Spiritual Trek

In conversation with a friend recently,  we were discussing our lives as 'spiritual journeys'.   I happened to comment that a spiritual trek might be a better description.

I don't know why I said that, really.  But it got me to thinking.  And then I decided to look up the word trek.

I probably used the word 'trek' because in my mind, a spiritual journey is always an arduous journey, which is the way trek is described.  I happen to know that from encountering the word a lot in crossword puzzles recently.

The word is chiefly from Afrikaans, originally from Dutch, akin to an old German word trechan, meaning to pull.   [Can you tell I watched the National Spelling Bee recently??]

Whenever the word trek is used, it implies something more challenging than a mere journey.  In fact, in its original context, it even meant to travel by ox wagon, which must have been a very rough trip.

A spiritual journey is never an easy journey, because the goal is to learn and grow and change.  In order to learn and grow, one must be shaken out of their regular routines or beliefs or patterns or thoughts.  Not surprisingly, many people resist that.

A spiritual trek is guaranteed to take one through difficult internal terrain.   It is not for the faint of heart.

While I have not trekked the Himalayas,  I definitely have been trekking all my life on the spiritual path.   Along that road, one has to face their demons, and mistakes, and fears.

And perhaps most difficult of all, one has to ultimately learn to love themselves despite all that.

A Wedding

Today we attended a wedding.  To the right is the Chapel at Casowasco, where the wedding took place.  The bride and groom met at Casowasco  (Camping Ministry) so that location was fitting.

As I thought about weddings,  I realized that most of the weddings that I have attended have been those of relatives, or children, or occasionally, those at which I might have officiated.  The most recent weddings attended were those of a grand-daughter in 2008 and daughters in 2010.

 It is most rare to be invited to a wedding simply as a "guest".  I cannot even remember the last time that happened.  That occurred in this particular case because I was once the pastor of the bride,  Stephanie.  During the years I was her pastor, she was confirmed

 Stephanie's father is clergy, and they made the same choice clergy families often make---the clergy father officiated at the service.  He did well, except for a couple of moments when he clearly was overcome by emotion and could not speak.  But that only lasted a couple of seconds.

Stephanie and Brian Henry

Gerry and I seemed to be sitting at the "clergy" table.  Several of Stephanie's former pastors, as well as some of her clergy friends were also in attendance.  She has been active in the conference ministries even as an adult, and has many connections.

Gerry also has connections to Casowasco having served on the conference Board of Trustees for some years, and the Board of Camping Ministries.   We both invested much sweat equity there over the years.


Thus, my name is embedded in the walkway.

Versions of Me

I've been through more iterations of myself than I can count.

The two that I can most clearly remember from childhood are:  the  fat kid,  the preacher's kid.   I internalized both of those rather deeply, the first in particular, which took many many years to transform into something more positive.

 Being the "preacher's kid" in the deep south of the fifties and sixties also carried quite a bit of baggage, which also took time to sort through.   That one was largely positive, but I wanted to be my own self, and not known by my father's position.

 It certainly is most ironic that, in the end,  by choice, I took my father's position as my own primary identity.

There are many names associated with that.  Minister, ordained elder, clergy, clergywoman, pastor, parson, priest, reverend.  I think I more often have referred to myself as preacher, probably because that was the most passionate part for me.

Then over time and the decades,  I incarnated into many forms.  Southerner.  Yankee.  For a while I was a teacher.  Professional.  Leader.

I have been a school board member, a faithful church member, a tennis player (athlete), a slimnastics instructor, and on and on the list goes. Wife.  Friend, aunt, niece, sister.   Daughter.

Child, Youth, Adult, Senior Citizen, Retiree.

Most of all,  I am mother.  (And for a time, single mother.)   Now, grandmother. Step-mother. Step-great-grandmother.  Mother-in-law.

Often, over my lifetime, I've been the resident poet, always some version of writer. (of articles, newsletters, short stories, sermons, etc.)  And more recently, novelist.

I am an avid reader.  Today I went to the library to get a pile of books to read.  The clerk at the desk looked at my name which came up on the computer with my library card.  She said,  "Oh, are you the author?"

I am scheduled to give a Book Talk there in August, so she recognized my name.  Still, I think that might be the first time that I have been primarily identified by that particular version of me.

Billboards

I remember the time when billboards littering highway routes were the norm.  Now they are rare, and in some places, I suppose even illegal.   Billboards have been replaced by small highway signs the precede exit ramps from major highways.

  I am guessing that in some places on non-interstate routes, one might still see billboards.  I think I'll check that out on our travels this summer.  For at least a portion of the trip, we will definitely be traveling a non-thoroughfare roads.  I will see if I can find one that tops my favorite one locally!

There is a particular billboard that one drives past on the local highway from Ithaca toward home.  One only gets a moment to read or glimpse a billboard message.   I remember the first time that I saw this particular one, I read it, I pondered it;  it took me a few moments to figure out what it was all about.  And that is what I like about it so much.  It is subtle.

This is absolutely the cleverest, most unique billboard advertisement I have ever seen.  There is an icon in the upper corner, and I do not remember the exact company, but it is either for a medical convenient care, or urgent care center--emergency room alternatives.

It takes a few minutes to absorb the unusual message, but it is worth repeating here!

Chicken noodle care in ramen noodle time.

Morning Air

Since Gerry built the patio last year, I have especially enjoyed drinking my coffee in the early morning air outside.

Early morning air is a little like virgin snow.   It is crisp and fresh and new, and not yet marred by the intense rays of the sun, or whatever other weighty things might fill it up or bring it down.

My favorite sensory experience in this whole wide world, in this whole big life, is the feel of newborn baby's skin.  There is no equal anywhere.   It is new and innocent and soft and exquisite!

I like the feel of the cool morning air blowing softly on my skin.   I can hear the birds sing, the distant traffic.  I can smell the lilacs.  I can see the flowers and the trees.   I can taste the coffee.

All the senses fully engaged.

Morning air is one of life's little pleasures.  Such a simple thing!        

God is good.

Vermont

On the way to Vermont, we took the ferry across Lake Champlain, as we typically do.

It was rather a gray and cloudy and cool day.  Still, in the distance, you can see "Camel's Hump", the name of the mountain in the distance in the center of the photo.

Sitting in the living room at Gerry's daughter's house,  the large window perfectly frames the same mountain, though much closer.

Part of the purpose of this trip was to participate in "grandparents day" events at the Waldorf School where two grandchildren attend in Shelburne.  Another purpose was to see some family members we haven't seen in a while.  We enjoyed a nice family dinner.

We attended a school concert on Thursday night and the quality of the student performance was awesome,  but I must say that the Community Chorus (parents, teachers, adults, anyone who wanted to) was out of this world.   It was a tight space, and a very large chorus.  The acoustics were excellent.  The power of the music almost blew me away.  I wish I knew the name of the first song they sang  (a classic/by classic composer) but I turned my program in to be reused the next night.  I knew I would not remember the name of it, and I don't.

It proved to be a very interesting weekend with surprises, connections, good company and the delight of a glorious sunset!

In-Laws

Whenever we go and visit our daughter and son-in-law, it is often a holiday weekend of some sort.   Matt's family-- let's call them the Jones---are very generous in always inviting us to family gatherings.

This weekend was Mother's Day, and the Jones family celebrated at Matt's sister's house.  There were aunts and uncles and cousins of various sorts, as well as us, who are Matt's in-laws.

It is a good thing that all of us can celebrate together, and I suspect somewhat unusual.

It was a perfectly beautiful day to be outside.  Our oldest daughter also made the trip with us this time, so that added another special element to the weekend.  V and M and B all went into the city on Saturday to see the sights and take in a performance of Cirque de Soleil.  Gerry and I opted for a more relaxed day at home, or nearby.

We enjoyed a lovely weekend,  but there's nothing like home, no place like home.   We do so much enjoy our home.

How will we handle being away for a whole month?   I wonder if we will be able to endure it at all.  I guess that remains to be seen.

Mother's Day 2013 at the In Laws

Deer Treat

Since we are going to be away a good part of the summer, I decided not to try to plant any vegetable garden this year.

 Instead, I thought some bulbs would be nice....yes, some tulips!!   Beautiful tulips had fat blooms just about to open---and then, this morning---all is lost!

I can only assume that tulip buds make delicious treats for deer!   Good for the deer.  So sad for the flowers and for me!

All gone, all in a row!

It is hard for me to give up the idea of tulips,  but I suppose I might as well.   The funny thing is, I've never even seen a deer in our neighborhood.  But Gerry says that's what is causing the damage, and I've seen the footprints in the garden.

So my question is----do I keep trying to plant flowers?  If so, what kind do deer detest?  Maybe marigolds?  No respectable critter would be caught eating marigolds, right?

There is an abundance of trees and grass and bushes and dandelions as far as the eye can see.  Why my flowers?

At this point, I cannot be too sure of anything, and have to be emotionally prepared for every green thing I love to  be destroyed!

I've always loved spring.  At the moment, I'm not so sure.  ):