thespiralnotebook

Welcome Home

2011-08-23T23:09:00.007-04:00

When we arrived at our new home on Welton Grove Circle, I noticed the previous owners had left behind not one, but many welcome mats. At every point of entry we encountered the word, scripted in beautiful colors coordinated with the home’s architectural style.

Welcome, welcome, welcome the message repeated itself and wove its way into our lives….not only in the mosaic of mats strategically placed in our home, but also in the words and actions of the many strangers, soon to become friends, who have come to our door. We have been welcomed with tasty packages of food, with flowers, with meals, and with gracious words, “We’re so glad you’re here.”

We have been welcomed by church members with strong arms and a truck, who transported my books and files to my office at the church. We have been welcomed in worship, by friendly faces, gleaming stained glass, soaring music, inspiring Scripture, proclamation and prayer. In the swapping of stories we are already building connections between and among us. And, we have been welcomed by a church staff, eager to orient us to this place. Even nature has joined in manifold witness (as the old hymn goes). We’ve been welcomed by the beauty of a summer sunset beckoning us westward as we drove into town, by the evensong of the cicadas, by the crackle of lightening, rumble of thunder and nourishing rains that have watered the parched, dry earth. The sounds of the city have welcomed us, too. From our screened–in porch we can hear the steady hum of traffic on the interstate, the wail of emergency sirens, the whistle of trains and the roar of planes flying low on their way to and from Forbes AirField.

Welcome, welcome, welcome. The word is an invitation to practice hospitality. In their book “radical hospitality,” Father Daniel Homan and Lonni Collins Pratt write, “It is a courageous thing to keep getting up every day, and it is a much more courageous thing to rouse your heart and incline it to love. To care for each other, to open the door to the stranger, to open your heart to the stranger, lifts you into the great dance of life…What matters is that we stretch our hearts open and draw near to each other. It is the way of hospitality, the way of life, and it is, in this remote place where we have awakened to find ourselves, the only way home.”

Blessings,

Cheryl

Yard Sale-ing

2011-07-16T11:23:00.009-04:00

This weekend we had what was, for us, an unusual experience....a yard sale. Actually, it's a moving sale since we are getting ready for our move to Topeka. For the past couple weeks we've been sorting, cleaning, and pricing the stuff we no longer use and don't want to haul half-way across the country. Our children have begun to pack up their child-hood mementoes. We've tossed and turned on what to take with us and what to leave behind...what we 'treasure' and what is just more stuff, taking up space. It's quite a process.

Our day dawned bright and early as we hauled out our offerings, posted our sign, and waited for customers. Although yard sale-ing is unusual for us, around here there are folks who make a sport of it. All season long they hop from sale to sale, looking for bargains. Some save up $1.00 bills just for this purpose. Some arrive as soon as you're open for business. Others drive by slowly, just scoping things out. One guy strode up the driveway and asked, "how much for it all?" Now that would be a deal. He did snag quite a number of items. By the time he was done, it was clear that he was working a well-honed system.

I was interested in what sold. Like many, we had an assortment of odds and ends from the kitchen, ramdom office supplies, a few books, some linens, a couple of appliances, a few pieces of furniture, and some trinkets from the kids' younger years. Some of this went, but much remains. Instead, we quickly sold a glockenspiel that our son used in high school band. A couple of needlework pieces that once were in Jack's family, but more recently have sat un-noticed in our basement went to a woman who owns a B&B. A pouch with a dozen tiny perfume bottles were purchased by a woman who has a bottle collection. And the lava lamp went to a little boy who was absolutely delighted with it.

We were also been fascinated with the people who stopped by. Everyone wanted to know, "where are you moving?" They were surprised to hear, "Topeka, Kansas," but then the small world connections began. We met a man grew up in a little town outside Wichita. Another was wearing a t-shirt from a bird sanctuary we visited during our PA years. Neighbors we hadn't seen in quite some time, stopped by to wish us well.

At the end of the day, we still had quite a bit of stuff we don't need, but we agreed it was a pretty good day. It was a gorgeous day to be outside. We met some interesting people. And now, we'll pack up the remains to donate. The hard work of sorting and deciding what to do with the accumulation is behind us...at least for now.

What to do with the past is a question we'll continue to ponder, as we say our good-byes and move through the transition from Ontario to Topeka. What to leave behind? What to recycle? What to take with us? Questions not only of the household, but also of the heart.

Blessings,

Cheryl

Stepping IN

2011-04-03T15:52:00.008-04:00

Some babies are not easily comforted, when they become anxious. They will NOT take a bottle. They will NOT take a pacifier. They will NOT take to anybody other than mommy and daddy, even well-meaning grandparents. From the time we enter this world, we need to be comforted, especially when life is too much for us: when we are anxious or afraid, when we are tired or irritable, when we are confused or uncertain, when we are depressed or disappointed or sad, we need to be comforted. Sometimes, that means reaching beyond our own resources, connecting with someone, something or some place that somehow calms us, helps us feel safe, secure, okay. Sometimes it means knowing how to access resources within ourselves.

This is my blessing bowl. I made it at a gathering of our church's College Moms group, so it holds all of the love and energy of a group of women who are special to me. My blessing bowl contains brightly colored slips of paper...post-it notes on which I have written words that represent some of the concerns of my life....the names of those I am holding close to my heart, the uncertainties I face in life, the things that are beyond my control, situations that bring anxiety to my soul. My hopes, dreams, and longings are here, too.

The blessing bowl becomes a source of comfort as I sit with it, opening each slip of paper and lifting its contents to God, in prayer. It is comforting when the needs and realities of my life change, and I can take a slip of paper out of the bowl or add another. I am comforted by the awareness of God's activity in my life, whether I always notice it, or not. As I hold the bowl to my heart, lift it up, then set it down, I find it helps me ground my day in the love of Jesus, for me and those I love. This is one source of comfort for me.....what's yours?

With this question, the sanctuary was abuzz this morning, as people moved into triads and shared with one another, what brings comfort to them. We listened to the story of a man born blind, who Jesus healed (John 9:1-41) by making a paste of dirt and spittle, applying it to the man's eyes and telling him to wash in a pool of water. Not a very comforting picture. The healing touched off a controversy among virtually all who witnessed it. No comfort there, either. Comfort comes when there is a shift, an awareness, from within or beyond, that enlarges the blind man's soul so he able to confess, "Lord, I believe." Crossing from 'once I was blind' to 'now I see,' the blind man finds comfort when he is awakened to the love and light of God, in this gift of healing.

Comfort is not the end, but the beginning of his transformation, and mine. Stepping in to comfort, my soul is enlarged and awakened, so that the healing love and soothing light of Christ I experience may flow from my life, with God's healing, for the world.

Stepping in,

Cheryl

Stepping OUT

2011-03-21T22:20:00.019-04:00

This is Sarah. She and her boyfriend Scott recently went to Trapeze School, on Pier 40, in New York City. I asked her to tell the story in church, to help us think about what it is like, to Step OUT into God's unknown. Imagine being strapped into a safety harness, clipped to another safety cord, and sent off to climbup a 25 ft. ladder. Imagine meeting a tiny girl at the top, whose job is to hold your entire body weight, as you lean over the edge of the platform to grab the trapeze bar that seems miles away and way beyond your reach. Is your heart racing yet? Have you begun to question what you are doing way up there, and why you are even considering launching yourself off the platform into the air?! Go ahead and look down. Do you see the instructor who will use his body weight to pull the safety harness, so your face won't smash into the net and then the ground? Are you wondering if it's too late to turn back now?

It’s all a process of timing, weight and motion. The instructor will get the rhythm going 1...2...3... hut!' On 'hut' you are supposed to jump off the platform and swing forward, and backward, while flipping upside down. How many tries do you think it will take to convince your feet to budge and leave the platform? What questions are running through your head now? Do you trust the process? Here's what happened, eventually, for Sarah...

"As I climbed that ladder I took a moment to embrace the experience. I realized that the view was beautiful, the sun was setting as I enjoyed the beauty of the city skyline and now it's time!!! Now I'm ready to step off and take a LEAP OF FAITH! I loved the feeling of swinging in the breeze, hanging upside down by my knees and finally letting go and free falling. What a rush!!

My heart was pounding and the adrenaline was flowing!!!!! Before I knew it, I was lying in the middle of the net, thinking, 'I made it' , 'I survived'!! That day, at Trapeze School, I learned a lot about going beyond my comfort zone, trusting my life to complete strangers and a single cable."

Listening to Sarah's story, I wondered how I embrace both uncertainty and exhilaration, as I step out beyond the familiar territory of known experience. With trust? Yes. Courage? Surely. But also with a beginner's mind. In his book, "a life of being, having, and doing enough," Wayne Muller makes a distinction between the beginner's mind of child-like awe, filled with wonder and curiosity and the expert's mind, which just 'knows' how things ought to be done, how they will work, which way is the right way, and which is clearly wrong.

This distinction may have been at play in a conversation Jesus once had with a so-called expert named Nicodemus. Jesus said, “The wind blows where it will, and we hear the sound of it, but we do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8

"We do not know," Jesus said. With a beginner's mind, frontiers of new experience may become a source of birthing as well as blessing. If I am willing to be surprised, I may learn something new about myself. I may learn something new about God. Stepping OUT beyond the frontier of known experience, I may be born again.

Stepping OUT,

Cheryl

Stepping OFF

2011-03-13T17:06:00.016-04:00

This year, I'm beginning Lent by stepping step OFF the treadmill!

The advantage to exercising on a treadmill, of course, is all season, all weather, access. The disadvantage is….the scenery never changes. It’s sheer repetition. Effort that eludes a sense of progress. Movement that gets me nowhere.

Still, many of us run, we walk, we pedal, we jump. We bend, we stretch, we huff and puff, to get our blood circulating to all the vital organs of our bodies...to keep our muscles toned...to build stamina and endurance....for flexibility and balance...to burn off calories….or reduce stress....to discharge anger or boil off frustration….or break a sweat. We work out. Yesss!!!

At the outset of Lent, I'm stepping OFF the treadmill, because, if the scenery never changes and I am moving but getting no where….am I really living? Not that I'm giving up my exercise routine for Lent. I wouldn't dream of abandoning the Jazzercise, yoga, and walking by which I maintain some semblance of physical health. I'm stepping OFF the treadmill, that I may draw upon its benefits to gain access to my inner life...to explore the interior landscape of my soul.

In nature, layers come from the passage of time and the interaction of various elements. Wind, sun, soil, rock, freezing, thawing, flooding, the erupting of a volcano, the shifting of tectonic plates, the movement of a glacier creates layer upon layer, a natural process, a process by which the earth has come to the shape and form in which it exists today. In places like the Grand Canyon, the layers are visible….the carving out of that massive hunk of earth broke through the encrustation to reveal what lies within. And what lies within is beautiful, is it not? What is true in the geology of nature is also true in the geology of a human soul…over the passage of a lifetime, elements we experience create layer upon layer so that the image of God in which we have been created: our beauty and creativity, our unique gifts and wiring, our life-pulse and heart-beat, the expression of divine essence that God called good, lie within an accumulation of layers, resulting from the natural process of living.

Layers of defense built up when we needed to protect ourselves from pain.

Layers of denial accumulated to shield ourselves from difficult truths.

Layers of habitual action we used when we didn’t want to risk vulnerability, on life's treadmill.

Stepping off the treadmill to enter the wilderness, as Jesus once did, these layers of defense denial, and habit may be sifted and sorted, laying bare one's essential character, deep passion and core qualities. But, as long as I consider this testing to be about pass/fail, right/wrong, good/bad…I dare not step off the treadmill. Remember what it was like to take a test, when you were younger? Some would tear eagerly into the test, confident, ready to show what they know. Others might have tried for a while, picking their way through the material, sometimes knowing, other times guessing, filling in the circles on the sheet randomly or making things up, hoping at least to get points for creativity. Some never tested well and approached every test with dread and anxiety, doomed to fail, because that’s what experience taught.

Only as I step off the treadmill to explore the contours and layers of my soul, with love and compassion, will I experience renewed vitality and hope. Could I, like Jesus, allow the Spirit to lead me to a place where I might give full attention to what is going on with my soul? (Matthew 4:1-11) Full, undivided attention. How about giving myself breathing space, these 40 days?! Sit still before God and try to listen to what God is saying to me. Reflect on who and what I love. Notice what is difficult to admit, even to myself. Name what I need. Do not judge or criticize or complain. Instead of telling God my troubles, say "thank you." Say, "I love you." Say, "here I am." The advantage of a treadmill is all-season, all weather access to exercise. The advantage to stepping OFF, is access to the Source that gives me life, the goodness in which I am being created, and the purpose toward which my life is moving.

Stepping off,

Cheryl

Attraversiamo

2010-11-28T19:13:00.012-05:00

Yes, it's a sunfish sailboat, in our sanctuary. In ancient times, artists used to portray the church with the image of a boat....so we did, too. On the final Sunday of our series from Unbinding Your Heart, we imagined ourselves, the wind of God's Spirit, filling our sails, crossing over, with well-tended spiritual lives, to an ever-deeper faith. With eyes and hearts open, receptive to what's next, we envisioned crossing over to share our faith with people who do not yet know God’s love.

When we started this adventure, six weeks ago, no one knew what God would do, if we started praying like we never prayed before, if we gathered in small groups for conversation about why it matters that we are Christians. When we started this adventure, six weeks ago, our boat was rocking gently on placid water, ripples just beginning to flow out from our center.

Who knew that God would bring new people into our lives and deepen the relationships among us? Who could imagine the spark that would expand our worship life? Who expected the flow of faith stories, shared from the heart, awakening us to God's activity in our lives? Who would have guessed that our small groups would not disband after six weeks, but would value what they shared together so deeply, that they would find a way to continue? Who anticipated new ministries emerging, as the Spirit whispered in listening ears and open hearts?

Attraversiamo is an Italian word that means 'let's cross over.' In her book, Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert calls it her favorite Italian word, as she describes dragging her friends across the crazy traffic of Rome. If Italian had been Jesus' native language, we'd find this word sprinkled all over the gospels, for Jesus often crossed over to people and places that needed to be touched, to be blessed by God's love. In this painting, by our resident artist Chip Stevens, Jesus is crossing the Sea of Galilee, where his disciples are caught in a storm. In a brash moment, one of them, Peter, stepped out of the boat, believing, he too could walk on water. When fear got the best of him, and he started to sink, Jesus reached out to steady him. Peter and his friends found, in Jesus, a companion they could trust, whose love and faithfulness would cross over the chaos of a stormy sea to steady them.

Who knew that over the six weeks of Unbinding Your Heart, we too would experience Jesus, crossing over to us...with courage that deepened our faith...with love that opened our hearts...with compassion that steadied us, as we stretched and took risks, together. And, who knows what will happen next?! Attraverisamo...let's cross!

Blessings,

Cheryl

a box...a bulb...and a brush

2010-10-26T16:08:00.007-04:00

"Life in the Spirit is like plugging into an electrical current." When I read these words in my prayer journal from Unbinding Your Heart, I remembered some images I'd pulled from magazines for soul collaging and got to work! I cut and pasted them into a composition that has been inviting my reflection this week.

The warm background colors are vibrant, warm and energizing. They represent the adventure our church is sharing together, that our faith may be vibrant, that our church may be bold in sharing the love of God with others around us. At the center is a big red box, tied with a raffia bow...the gift of Jesus...for us. What is in the box? This question could be an invitation to curiosity and wonder...what gift has Jesus given us? The question could also be an invitation to unwrap the gift. As Jesus said, "those who love me will keep my word...and we will make our home with them." (John 14:23) Imagine digging into the Scriptures, digging into life, as you would a brightly wrapped package. Rip off the paper, if that is your style. Or, gently pull off the tape and and let the paper fall. Open the box, dig through the layers of tissue, discover what is there, for you. Take it out of the box. Examine it, learn about it, delight in it. Hold it in your hands. Wonder why Jesus picked this gift, for you. Wonder what to do with it.

The bulb on the box glows with the electrical current of the Spirit. When it's plugged in, it sheds light on what is there to see. It also fires the synapses of memory and brings to awareness the knowing that lives in our memory. Jesus said "the Holy Spirit will teach you everything and remind you of all I have said to you." (John 14:26) This glowing bulb is, to me, an image of what can happen, through prayer. Not always, as in cause & effect. Sometimes, even when plugged in, a bulb fails to glow....when forces beyond its control interrupt the flow of current. What are those forces in your life? But, to be sure, if the bulb is not plugged in, it will be dull, dark, unable to fulfill the purpose for which it was made.

And the hand of God is the Source of it all: the vibrant colors, the gift, the current. God's hand holds a paintbrush, with loving intention, infinite imagination, and belief in our creative potential. Sweeping the broad canvas of our world and brushing from the palette of our lives, what is God making visible, through us?

A box, an incandescent bulb, a hand holding a paintbrush....what could this trinity of images suggest about our congregation's life in the Spirit?

Blessings,

Cheryl

The Cat Who Came To Church

2010-10-03T17:27:00.007-04:00

As I was pondering what to write about, in my next blog posting, an answer wandered through the door. This beautiful cat decided to join us for worship today. As the people arrived, so did the cat. She'd enter the building and someone would put her back out. Then the next person would come along, and in she would follow, until she was sent out again. Finally, I suggested we just leave her be. As the congregation settled in for worship, so did the cat. I was amused when I remembered that in some traditions, today is the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, and some churches do a blessing of the animals. "This cat knew where to come, to be blessed," I quipped to the congregation. Did she ever!

Throughout worship, she wandered. She walked down the aisles, along the pews, and under them. She sat in the laps of some parishioners and rubbed the ankles of others. As I stood in the chancel to read a storybook, the cat came forward, her tail brushing the hem of my robe, much to the congregation's delight. When she was within reach, hands of parishioners reached out to pet her, even to hold her, for a moment or two. When she was in sight, all eyes followed her. When she climbed up onto the organ bench and sat in the organist's lap, we smiled! Most of the way through the sermon, I figured I might as well weave this unexpected experience into the message. I was talking about experiences that stop us and show us something that already exists but we haven't noticed....signs we might catch, out of the corner of our eye, messages we might receive, if we stopped to read them, that remind us of God's love and the hope that is always there, right under our noses....waiting for us to notice.

I couldn't help speaking about the cat as such a sign. In what ways does God wander through our lives? What experiences of faith and life get our attention and prompt us to reach for God? How does our faith bring a smile to our face and give us delight? What is it like, when God's Spirit brushes the hem of our lives? As I talked about her, the cat laid down on the floor, front and center, looking out at the congregation. I saw in her attentive gaze, the love of Jesus. I wonder if she found a blessing this morning? I know we did, because she found us. As we begin our congregation-wide experience of "Unbinding Your Heart, " Who knows what other unexpected surprises and unanticipated blessings lie ahead?!

Waiting and Wondering,

Cheryl

Unbinding Your Heart

2010-09-14T17:03:00.017-04:00

Unbinding Your Heart will begin on 10.10.10, as we meet in small groups, once a week for 6 weeks, to read and discuss a book together, pray together, and talk about our experiences of God together. This will be a new experience for our congregation. We've never done anything quite list this before. Our intention is to grow closer to God and to learn to share our faith. It’s that simple….and because it's new, it may take some getting used to.

Some of our church's leaders have been for a 'test drive,' using a resource called "Unbinding the Gospel, and powerful things have been happening in their life with God. As we now invite the rest of the congregation into the experience, my blog will be a way to document what God is doing. I want to begin by sharing a bit about what I've gained, over the past year, through Unbinding.

I’ve gained Love. It's true. The more I open myself to God, the more I know that I am loved. I've found I need a boost to stay grounded in God’s love. For me, it’s easy to slip into a pattern of prayer and study of Scripture that’s all about getting ready to lead worship…My God time can become more about work than about love. The Unbinding prayer journal gave me a guide for my God-time that is simple and clear, new ways to pray, Scripture that isn’t for preaching, and a couple of helpful God questions to ponder, and carry into my day, so God’s love stays with me and flows through me.

I’ve gained Life. I've found that the more I bring of myself, into my relationships with others, the more LIFE pops open with vitality, creativity and possibility. Out of the experience of sharing in a small group, using Unbinding the Gospel as our guide, many of us have found more ways to share more of ourselves. Text messages fly through cyber-space and my cell phone rings with words of comfort or inspiration, with a beautiful photo, or with the poignant question, “How may I pray for you today?” Email exchanges offer updates on our lives, and in face-to-face conversations, we’re learning to be authentic, to be real with each other. Yes, we’re all busy. Our lives are full of activity. We’re surrounded by people every waking minute of the day….and taking time to connect in these ways connect is good. It’s life-giving. It brings well-being in Christ, even on our most difficult days.

I’ve gained ‘Holy ground.’ I've found, the more we hang out with each other and God, the better chance we have of encounters that are precious, even sacred. It takes time. It takes trust. It takes a willingness to be vulnerable. But I have found that when I go there. When we go there, in community, with God...Our stories come out. God in our stories comes out, and we are deeply blessed. Among the most sacred moments I’ve had in ministry was one that happened just a few weeks ago, when a small group of leaders asked God to bring to mind an important time in their life with God…and powerful stories were told.

I want nothing more for you, than what I have witnessed with my own eyes and experienced with the unbinding of my own heart, over the past year. Love, Life, Holy Ground. True riches of God, for shrewd servants. This fall, as we make ourselves available to God in small groups, in daily prayer, and in our Sunday morning worship, I wonder what else God will do? The picture at the top of this posting is a soul collage I made, to express what I have experienced through Unbinding the Gospel. What do you see?

Blessings,

Cheryl

The Light Is Changing

2010-08-23T22:03:00.008-04:00

All summer long, I've been sitting outside, first thing in the morning, with a cup of coffee, my journal, and my Bible. And the sun, high in the sky, has softly warmed the place I sit. I know it's been happening gradually, a bit at a time, but this morning, I noticed a distinct change in the light. The sun looks lower in the sky. It's rays are filtered through the still green and full leaves of the tree. But now I sit mostly in shade. The dew is heavy on the grass. It sparkles where sunlight falls. The glass table-top in front of me shimmers, almost rainbow-like, with sunlight reflected in the tiny dew droplets. Behind me, the tomato plants hang heavy, still waiting to ripen. Gradually, they soak up water and bask in the warmth of the sun until, one day, they will turn from green to red. They will be ready. This is the gradual, yet inevitable pace of the changing of the seasons. It's mid-August. Before we know it, fall will be here.

What I have observed today, in the changing of the light, in the turning of the seasons, can also be true of God's work in our lives. Often, it is gradual, sometimes imperceptible, until one day, suddenly you notice it. Something has shifted. Something has grown. Something has ripened. Something is ready. In my Bible I read, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. The life I now live, I live by faith in Christ who loves me. I do not nullify the grace of God..." -Galatians 2:20,21. Apparently, Paul noticed the light changing, too. Not by his own effort, but by the love of God. Soaking up God's grace, and basking in the warmth of Christ's love, may the changing of the light keep us mindful of God's subtle but sure healing power at work, in us.

Blessings,

Cheryl

2009-06-16T21:26:00.003-04:00

In the dead of winter, the members of my congregation dropped some sunflower seeds into pots of soil. It was intended to be nothing more than a ritual act. The seeds, in their pots of dry soil, sat, untended in the dark, cool sanctuary, until on Easter Sunday, signs of life were spotted, climbing out of the pots of soil. No one had watered them. No one had put them in sunlight. But the seeds sprouted anyway. The seeds broke out of their hard shells, sent roots deep into the soil and shoots reaching for the light.

On the day Christians celebrate the hope of new life that emerged from the empty tomb of Jesus, we Presbyterians had before us a real-time, real-life mystery: what made these seeds grow? One could say, that’s what seeds do when they are planted. But not always. Sometimes, even the most carefully tended seeds fail to take root and do not flourish. The easy answer is: God did it. But life doesn’t always hold up to the easy answers, does it? Life is as full of mystery and promise as is the growth of those seeds.

So, we are doing what one does in the face of such a mystery. We’re planting the evidence in the rich Ridge soil. And we’re waiting to see what happens. We’re watching to see what grows. In the meantime, we’re wondering what’s growing in Ontario. Where is hope hidden in the soil of our community? Where is peace taking root? Where are shoots of joy, sprouts of beauty growing? We’re waiting, we’re watching, we’re wondering, and we have no easy answers. Only tender young plants, and faith enough to put them in the soil. Do you enjoy a good mystery? Come, join us Sunday mornings at 10:00 a.m. for worship, Monday and Thursday evenings at 7:00 p.m. for yoga. Who knows what might grow?

Blessings,
Cheryl

Our Remembrance Walk

2009-04-09T21:00:00.004-04:00

With this image, we began our Maundy Thursday experience. The image is called "New Song." It is by Maria Gabankova, an artist who lives and works in Toronto. I invited those gathered in remembrance of Jesus, this evening, to imagine this image as a contemporary setting for the Last Supper. We shared what we found inviting, welcoming about this table: the musical instruments, the food, the candles, the tablecloth, the diversity of those gathered, the faces, some of whom are looking toward us. We noticed they look serious, pensive. A child was interested in the tree - a pear tree he called it, and then we noticed the tree also contains a fish and a building that looks like a church, and birds, and other fruits. We noticed that the table seems to stretch into infinity. We wondered where we would seat ourselves at this table. Who would we want to sit next to...and why? And then we listened to the story of how Jesus gathered his friends around a table on the night before he died, and spoke to them and washed their feet, and said to them, "If you know these things, blessed are you, if you do them." (John 13:17) We wondered...what things? And what does Jesus want us to do, as we remember Him?

And then we began what has become our Maundy Thursday tradition....walking the labyrinth in remembrance of Jesus, and receiving the elements of communion in the center. Accompanied by the sound track from "The Passion of the Christ," I carried the chalice containing grape juice and began walking. For a bit....it seemed like quite a bit....I walked alone. A solitary walk, holding the cup that signfies the blood that was poured out for me and for all. Soon enough, others joined me. They broke off a piece of bread from the loaf that was offered at the threshold, and then carried the bread that represents Christ's body into the labyrinth. We were all invited to reflect on Jesus while we made our way to the center. As more and more people entered the labyrinth, it became crowded, a sea of humanity twisting and turning on a common journey. I couldn't help but to think of the crowds who walked with Jesus in Jerusalem...walked in triumph with him as he entered the city...walked in confrontation against him on the way to the cross...walked in sorrow as he died.

As each one reached the center I was standing there with the chalice and the words: "the bread of life, the cup of salvation" From a basket in the center of the labyrinth, we picked up a piece of broken pottery and carried it on the long walk back to the threshold, while reflecting on our brokenness. Pretty soon, the crowd had dwindled, as one by one, worshipers completed their walk. By the end, it was down to just three women...those who had been holding the elements at the threshold, and me. Like Mary Magdalene, and Mary and Salome, the women who, according to Mark's gospel, were looking on from a distance as Jesus was crucified. (Mark 15:40) Our dance was tinged with sorrow, though also with gratitude for the love we remembered and in which we participated, tonight.

By the end of the evening, Maria Gabankova's "New Song" became, for me, the welcome table of the kingdom of God, to which people will come from east and west, and from north and south. The essence of that community, that communion of saints, she captured in her painting. And, we experienced a taste of it this evening, in our remembrance of Jesus.

Walking to Remember...On the Way,

Cheryl

The Bottom Drawer

2009-03-17T14:21:00.006-04:00

Harriet was a much beloved wife, mother, grandmother, friend. She was a member of my congregation and a former member of a neighboring Presbyterian Church, where she maintained many close ties. When Harriet died, her Memorial Service was shared by the two churches. I have received so many comments about the sermon I preached at the service, that I find myself wanting to blog about "The Bottom Drawer." The sermon and the entire Memorial Service were designed around the contents of a file, carefully saved in the bottom drawer of Harriet's desk. There, she had placed copies of favorite poems, bulletins from other Memorial Services she had attended, the names of hymns she especially liked, prayers and Scripture passages that had meaning for her. The focus Scripture passage I used for the sermon came from a meditation she wrote for her church's devotional booklet back in 1968.

Between the contents of the Bottom Drawer, the memories her family shared with me, and my own experience of this beloved church member, I had many rich resources to bring into the process of creating a sermon that would honor Harriet's life. But more than having ample material with which to work, I was struck by the resonance of the material with the life she lived.

The Scripture passage was filled with images that I could connect to the Harriet I knew. In fact, anyone who knew her could easily connect the dots between the contents of the drawer and the 'content' of her life. Someone told me that during the sermon, there were smiles, tears and times when one wanted to say, 'Yes!' Her words and deeds generally matched her values and beliefs. The life that was visible to others reflected the relationship she lived with her God.

How do you want to be remembered? Why not start a 'bottom drawer' file and fill it with bits and pieces that say something about who you are and what you have loved. Start gathering words and images and songs that capture what is sacred to you, that reflect what has been true, for you. Let the contents of your bottom drawer be a reminder of the life you wish to live. And then, with the gift of each of your remaining days, live it!

Blessings on the Way,

Cheryl

The Shadow

2009-03-12T22:17:00.004-04:00

One bright sunny morning, recently, I walked through my dining room and noticed how the sun was shining on the bright pink cylamen sitting on the table. I noticed how the light brought the color vividly, to life. And then I noticed the shadow. I noticed the darkness, contrasting with the light.

Have you seen your shadow, lately?

This week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy" explored the shadow side of a brilliant neurosurgeon, whose gifts brought healing for many. But when a mistake leads to the death of a patient, the surgeon is overwhelmed by his shadow. When presented with the evidence of the many lives he could not save, all he can see is the shadow. It doesn't matter to him that many of them had reached a point beyond the capacity of medicine to bring healing, when they turned to him. It doesn't matter to him, that by using his gifts in these last-resort cases, he gained knowledge that could advance the boundaries of medical science. Facing what is beyond his control, discovering the limits of his abilities, seeing the consequences of his mistakes, experiencing the difficult emotions that come up, the shadow is overwhelming, even terrifying.

Have you seen your shadow lately?

This week, I've been thinking about the cross as the shadow of our faith. In some parts of the world, churches, even stadiums are filled to capacity on Good Friday and empty on Easter. For people who live every day of their lives in the shadow of death or violence or suffering, the cross of Jesus is a profound source of comfort. Not so much among those who fill churches on Easter, the joy and hope of resurrection eclipsing the shadow of the cross.

The "Grey's Anatomy" episode ended with the statement....one way to get rid of the shadow, is to turn out the light. Where does that leave you? In darkness. In this season of Lent, perhaps the idea is not to get rid of the shadow, but to turn toward the light of Jesus, where as for my cyclamen, our brilliant colors may be exposed alongside our shadow. Perhaps there we find God, loving both the light and the shadow, in us. Perhaps there we find the courage to walk with the suffering and to trust the path God has provided for our healing, for our salvation.

Blessings, on the Way,

Cheryl

Standing By

2009-03-04T12:12:00.003-05:00

Now that the snow is mostly gone and the earth is once again visible, it looks absolutely dead, does it not? The lawn that will turn bright green, with fresh, sweet-smelling new growth is now nothing but frozen brown thatch. The trees lift stark, bare branches to the sky like gaunt arms, raised in surrender. Flower beds and gardens lie empty, blank, bleak....there is not even a hint of the riot of color and fragrance that will break through, come spring. At this time of the year, we are still in the dead of winter.

Today, I am thinking the same may be true for our souls. In his book "Care of the Soul," Thomas Moore writes, "Soul is not a thing, but a quality or dimension of experiencing life and ourselves. It has to do with depth, value, relatedness, heart, and personal substance." In the dead of winter, our souls may look like death: our mood may be dark, our thoughts may be negative, our energy may be low, our desire to withdraw or escape may be compelling, our heart may be heavy, our capacity to engage life with enthusiasm may be just about null and void.

Just as, within the earth lies the capacity to generate growth once again, the same is true for our souls. However, as long as we view the dead of winter as a problem to be solved or a condition to be avoided, we may miss the gift that is in this season, for us. Joe Cocker sings a song called "Hymn for My Soul." The lyrics include a line that says, "sing a hymn for my soul, stand by me as I grow...."

It seems to me that Lent is a season to stand by our souls, in the dead of winter. Standing by is about acceptance of what is. Standing by is watching the darkness, noticing the heaviness, observing the emptiness....and wondering what it can teach us. Standing by requires patience and trust. Standing by is about loving the soul that looks like death. Just as we would not judge the grass for its brown-ness or the garden for its emptiness, or the trees for their naked branches, neither need the winter of our souls be cause for criticism.

Jesus said, "Those who want to save their live will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it." (Mark 8:35) Standing by, we relinquish and there we find the healing, save love of Jesus, standing by us, in the dead of winter.

Standing by, on the Way,

Cheryl

Laundry and Lent

2009-02-27T10:14:00.005-05:00

In her book, "An Altar in The World," Barbara Brown Taylor suggests looking for the 'more' that is sometimes called God, in the "red X under your feet..." or in my case, in the laundry basket that is before your eyes. I woke up to a mountain of dirty laundry today. The basket was not only heaped-over, but also overflowing into a colorful jumble on the floor. I did not greet this awareness with dread. Although doing the laundry does not necessarily fill me with joy, it does give me a certain sense of accomplishment. Seeing the pile transformed from an unruly, disorderly jumble into a display of clean, neatly folded or hung clothes is a weekly experience that is unlike much of the work that I do.

Most Fridays, you will find me at home, immersed in the process of creating the pieces that will become a service of worship on Sunday. It is a process that, like my laundry basket, can often appear unruly, disorderly, and a colorful jumble. By Sunday, I will bring the pieces to church, where they will become an offering that may be anything but neat and tidy. But that's not what it's about, is it? When we come into the sanctuary, we bring with us the colorful jumble that is our lives, not so much so God can bring order to it....but so that we may experience more of God, loving us and working with us in the midst of it.

I've been thinking about how I might experience more of God in this season of Lent. In my life, I have experienced more of God by reading what others have written about God. I have discovered more of God by talking with others about the things that matter to them. I have found more of God in the labyrinth and in nature. My experience of God has been shaped and changed by encountering people whose own life experiences have been quite different from mine. Through prayer and meditation, through acts of service and various other spiritual practices, all of this has led me to experience more of God.

This year, maybe I should just do more laundry. Which is to say, maybe I will find more of God in the colorful jumble that is my life. Maybe I will experience more of God in the bending, lifting, and folding. Maybe in the fragrance of the laundry detergent. Maybe in the empty basket, waiting to be filled again. Maybe even the smelly socks and wrinkled shirts will speak to me of the God I have come to know in Jesus, who never shied away from the messiness and unruliness he encountered.

Where do you suppose you might find more of God?

Blessings, on the Way,

Cheryl

Turning The Corner

2009-01-15T18:35:00.005-05:00

Here's our group, in two pictures, standing in front of MR GO: The Mississipppi River Gulf Outlet. This "short cut" shipping channel, carved between the Mississippi River and the Gulf Goast is part of the reason Katrina hit New Orleans with such force. MR GO brought salt water into the marshes, destroying Mother Nature's 'speed bump' for hurricanes and also became a conduit for the storm surge. The decision has now been made to close the outlet and allow nature to be restored.

We had the opportunity to hear a representative of the Army Corps of Engineers talk about the risk management plans that are in the process of implementation. In addition to improving the levees and closing MR GO, residents are being encouraged to build higher - thus some rebuilds are happening on pylons. The Corps has received $14.6 billion and plans to have a new hurricane risk reduction system in place by 2011, with many years to follow for the restoration of the wetlands.

We also enjoyed a driving tour on Wednesday afternoon. We stopped by a couple of the houses we worked on in previous years, which are now occupied. We drove through the Lower Ninth Ward, which is but a shadow of its former self. We saw the levee that was damaged when a barge was driven into it and is now repaired. And, Brad Pitt's housing project is now well underway. He has hired archictects from all over the world to design 150 houses that will be built in the Lower Ninth Ward. They are designed, not only to be hurricane-proof, but also to be envirnonmentally sustainable. Musicians' Village, in the Upper 9th Ward, continues to grow.

Today was the most satisfying day of work so far. In the first part of the week, both of our teams experienced many frustrations, as we tried to learn new skills and struggled with the difficulties of completing tasks in these homes that have been so badly damaged. Today, both teams turned a corner in their work. Floor scraping gave way to pouring and smoothing a new skim coat to prepare for the tile floors that someone else will lay. Hauling sheetrock up a flight of stairs gave way to more dry wall sheets, hung and taped. One of our teams enjoyed an authentic New Orleans lunch prepared by the resident of the home they are working on: gumbo, jambalaya, and fried chicken.

After work tomorrow, we'll probably go into the city to do a little more exploring. Then, we'll be rising early Saturday morning to begin our trip home. We look forward to sharing our pictures and stories with friends, family, and our congregations, when we return.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Changes

2009-01-13T18:34:00.003-05:00

Those of us who have been here before are noticing the changes that have happened over time. Whereas last year, progress was seen in the concrete slabs that remained after abandoned houses were razed, this year more homes are occupied, but we are seeing many abandoned houses that are still standing...with broken and/or boarded up windows and overgrown lots. The streets in this part of town are in very poor condition, and there is some evidence of road work underway. A sign of progress is seen in the homes that have not only been restored, but also have finishing touches like landscaping.

In the homes we are working on, there is a common theme: warped wood studs. Our crews are learning how to create shims so the sheetrock can be hung properly. Between the length of time that has passed since these homes were gutted and the work that was not always properly done, there are plenty of challenges in trying to figure out how to accomplish the tasks we are given. The PDA folks are well stocked with good tools, at this point, and have construction assistants who are very helpful - another sign of progress

Some members of the group drove by the home we gutted last year. After a year's time, the homeowner has not yet moved in, but significant progress has been made. It is such a slow process. I met a neighbor today, whose daughter has been on a waiting list for 2 years.

We are tired, but the spirit of the group remains very good. The sun was shining today, with temps in the low 60s. Not bad, for January!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Beginning

2009-01-12T23:12:00.005-05:00

Sunday's sightseeing included a visit to the Aquarium and the viewing of an IMAX film called "The Hurricane on the Bayou." It showed the relationship between the depletion of the wetlands in this area and the growth in the destructive power of hurricanes. It was a helpful piece of context, especially for those who are here for the first time. Emotionally powerful, it gave us a glimpse of the natural beauty of this area before Katrina, and offered some images of the immediate aftermath of the storm.

Monday we received our work assignments and got busy! Our group from New York has been divided into two work crews. One group spent the day hanging sheetrock on the walls of a home. The other group cut and placed insulation in a ceiling and began hanging sheetrock on the ceiling, while other members of the group (including yours truly) spent the day attempting to scrape the remains of the adhesive residue that had held tile onto concrete floors...using warm water, soap, and metal scrapers. There must be a better way, we concluded. And yet, the slow, difficult process with little to show for it gives us a window of insight into the experience that many residents of this area have been living for three and a half years.

At the Olive Tree Camp, our numbers are now around 80. There are groups here from Virginia, Minnesota, Wisconsin, New Jersey, and Quebec. We are eating, sleeping, showering, and living in a facility that used to be a Presbyterian Church. Our sleeping areas are dormitory style rooms with wooden-framed bunks and mattresses. We shower (with wonderfully warm water) in a trailer parked on the premises. All of us here share the responsibility for coooking meals and keeping the facility clean.

Monday evening, we had a bit of time to circle up our group for a bit of reflection on the experience that is just beginning. We used the story of Zacchaeus from Luke 19:1-10 as a springboard for reflecting on themes of 'lost and found,' 'hope,' and 'hospitality,' especially in this New Orleans context. Our group is working well together and is sharing plenty of laughter. We're off to a great start!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Getting Here

2009-01-11T08:48:00.005-05:00

After airport "Ice-Breakers" and snagging a stranger to snap a photo, and a slight delay for airplane de-icing, we lifted off from Rochester and flew through a flurry of snowflakes, soon enough clearing the clouds for a smooth flight to Atlanta. Wheels down, with just enough time to grab a bite to eat before catching our connection to New Orleans. While waiting in line at the Atlanta Bread Company, Jack and I were approached by a young woman who noticed the Team New Orleans shirts we were wearing. "Are you going there to fix houses?" she asked. "Yes...it's our third trip, we replied." "New Orleans is where I live," she told us. "Thanks so much for coming to help us out." And so the journey begins. Before we have even arrived, we have tapped into the need and the gratitude that have drawn us here.

Of course, rarely can you fly anywhere in the U.S. these days, without encountering travel glitches. Ours came in the form of a one hour delay in our departure from Atlanta. So, we waited and walked the airport concourse and people-watched, until time for take-off from Atlanta, 10:00. We crossed a time zone by the time of our arrival in New Orleans, around 10:45 p.m., Central Time....11:45 according to our body clocks. A shuttle ride to the rental car agency and a 1/2 drive later, we arrived at our destination...the Olive Tree Camp of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.

It was a short night last night, but we are up and about this morning, getting ready for breakfast, church, and some sight-seeing. Our first day of work is tomorrow. It was too dark to see much when we came in last night, but we know that we're working in a part of the city that is still pretty devastated from Katrina. I will post more after we've had a chance to settle in and start to work.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

By Word of Mouth

2009-01-07T21:20:00.004-05:00

For the third year in a row, I am starting the New Year with a trip to New Orleans. No, it's not about the French Quarter or Bourbon Street, or the majestic Mississippi. It's about the on-going rebirth of the region in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Three years later, many people have returned to their homes, but the waiting lists are still growing. Much of the progress is being made with the help of volunteer groups like ours. Our initiative started with two people from the First Presbyterian Church of Ontario Center, where I am pastor. They travelled to the Gulf Coast with a group from Geneva Presbytery and returned with stories and a passion to continue this important work.

By word of mouth, we gathered a group and in our first year, 15 of us arrived at Camp Hope, in St. Bernard's Parish, ready to work. We were deeply touched by the stories of those who had endured the devastation of losing everything. We were angered by the sense of abandonment. We were saddened to see restaurants and businesses standing, vacant, and neighborhoods that looked like ghost towns, and parking lots filled with FEMA trailers, and homes still filled with muddy, moldy debris. We pitched in, did our part, and returned home, with stories and a passion to continue this important work. We were heartened by the spirit of the people and by the gratitude expressed by everyone we met.

By word of mouth, our group grew. Three churches got involved. Local businesses became corporate sponsors. Friends told friends. Connections spread through college and church networks. Year two, we were 30 strong. Back to Camp Hope we went. Progress was seen. There were fewer FEMA trailers and more businesses open. Neighborhoods were starting to come to life. But we were shocked when assigned the gutting of a house, two and a half years after the hurricane. How are people managing? What keeps them from giving up? Their patience and perseverence were inspiring. Habitat for Humanity has come a long way in restoring Musicians' Village, a neighborhood dedicated to preserving the rich musical cultural heritage of the region. The rainbow colored homes are a hopeful sight. Brad Pitt has launched a Do It Right initiative in the lower ninth ward. There is still a long, long way to go. We returned home, with stories and a passion to continue this important work.

This year, we are a group of 23 college students and adults from the communities of Ontario and Walworth in New York. Only a few of us are from the church that started this initiative. By word of mouth, it's spun way beyond it's starting point. At this point, many of us are strangers, drawn together by a common desire to contribute to the rebirth of New Orleans. We are grateful to a vast network of friends and family who are partnering with us through generous financial contributions. On Saturday, January 10th, we will embark on our third Hurricane Relief trip to New Orleans. It is my intention to offer blog postings from the Olive Tree Village Relief Camp, where we will be living.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Window to the Heart

2008-12-21T22:20:00.000-05:00

This is a week to be drawn into the circle of God's love.

As you light 4 candles, see if you are able, in your memory, to visit a relationship or activity in which you experienced the healing power of love...

At church, we have been inviting ourselves to the lighting of the Advent wreath by singing a prayer song that originated with the brothers of Taize. We sing in Latin, and here are the words:

Magnificat, magnificat, magnificat anima mea domium.
Magnificat, magnificat, magnificat anima mea.

The words simply mean: my soul sings praise to God. It is based upon the song that Mary sang (Luke 1:47-55) after she said "yes" to the angel who announced that she would give birth to a child who would be the Son of God. We've been singing Mary's song differently each week of Advent....adding something new each week. Like the light on our Advent wreath, the song has opened an expanding, gracious space, where we have been drawn into the circle of God's love.

This week, amid all of the preparations leading up to Christmas, ask God to open the window of your heart. Ask God to visit there. Do you imagine God visiting you, in the form of an angel? Or, is God likely to be seen in the greetings you exchange with family and friends? Is God's love growing in the way that you listen....or in the words that you speak? Is it in moments of quiet or in a courageous action that you might re-experience the healing power of love? Ask God to awaken your imagination, that it may be so for you.

Blessings,

Cheryl

P.S. Last night our family went to see "Triple Espresso" at the Geva Theater. It was hilarious. This show features music, magic, and comedy that had us laughing, non-stop. If you are looking for a great activity to share with family and friends this holiday season, we highly recommend it!

The Window to Joy

2008-12-14T21:07:00.000-05:00

In the movie "The Secret Life of Bees," there is a great scene that is a window to joy. It's a hot, sultry day in South Carolina. On this day, in the life of three sisters who live together in a house painted the color of pepto bismol, one of the sisters is in the house playing the cello, mournfully. Another is sitting on the porch eating lunch with their 14 year old guest, Lily, when the sound of squealing is heard....the kind of squealing you might hear on a schoolyard playground at recess time. It's two grown women, running through the water sprinkler, barefoot and fully clothed. As Lilly and her companion approach, they pick up the sprinkler and aim it at them - splat. Pretty soon all of them are drenched and they begin to dance in the cool spray. Then the sound of the porch door is heard - bang - and out comes the cello-playing sister, with her dander up. Lilly aims the sprinkler at her and she yanks it out of the young girl's hands and turns it back on her. Back and forth the two wrestle for it, soaking each other until anger softens and laughing begins. They sprawl on the grass in convulsions of laughter until tears flow.

Can you remember a time when you laughed so hard that you began to cry? Where were you? What were you doing? Who else was there? What emotions did your laughter and tears release?

Already, it is time to light the third Advent candle. The first candle is the candle of hope. The second is the candle of comfort. The third is the candle of joy.

Today, why not offer a prayer and ask God to open a window to joy, for you.?! Seek God's support to practice laughter today. Jump for joy. Ask God to bring to your imagination, someone to whom you could offer a gift that would bring joy. If you are at a loss for words, try using Mary's song of joy, found in Luke 1:47-55. Let your spirit rejoice!

Advent Blessings,
Cheryl

Windows to The Soul

2008-12-08T08:19:00.001-05:00

This, week, I have been thinking about our eyes as windows to the soul, and wondering...what are the people and experiences that open our imaginations to see differently? I remember a day, many years ago, shortly after our family had moved to Princeton. My children and I were doing an errand on the campus of the seminary, when Lindsay's attention was drawn to a weeping willow tree. She loved the long, slender branches that reached all the way down where she could touch them, dance in them, play with them. This was a type of tree she had never experienced before....or so she thought. A short time later, we were back in Harrisburg, PA, where we had lived before moving to Princeton. On the drive to our church in Hershey, Lindsay was gazing out of the car windows at the golf course bordering the church. "Look!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Weeping willow trees!" Yes, there they were: trees she had seen many times before, but now she knew them, differently. Now, she saw them in the light of her playful experience with the willow tree at Princeton.

Can you name a time when you saw something familiar, but you saw it as if for the first time?

Today, as we move into the second week of Advent, it is time to light two candles. The first is the candle of hope. The second is the candle of comfort.

Read Isaiah 40:1-11 and let the images in the text invite your soul to ponder what God wants you to see.....

Offer a prayer and ask God to open the window of your imagination to help you see what you never saw before. It has been said that, "Sometimes the view from someone else's window brings light into our own." Ask God to reveal to you, today, the people or stories or activities that could be a window to your soul.

Advent blessings,
Cheryl

The Window of Hope

2008-12-01T09:16:00.001-05:00

This is the window of "Hope." It is found at Clos Luce, a chateau in the town of Amboise, France, where Leonardo da Vinci spent the last years of his life. This chateau was made available to Leonardo by a king who wanted to offer the artist a place in which he could be free to dream and to work. Leonardo was a visionary who was able to imagine a future no one else could yet see. He was a keen observer of nature and an inventor who was far ahead of his time. He also had a rich spiritual imagination, often reflected in his paintings.

This week, we are invited to light one Advent candle and spend some time at the window of hope, daydreaming a bit about the future that looks impossible, from today's vantage point.

What words or images come into your imagination when you think about a future that has been transformed, as a result of God's intervention? What does HOPE look like to you?

There is a song from the Taize community that can be used to settle our souls and quiet our minds. Try saying or singing these words (the tune can be found on p. 2157 of Sing the Faith), repeat the words several times.....

Come and fill our hearts with your Hope. You alone, O Lord, are holy.
Come and fill our hearts with your Hope, Alleluia.

Now, perhaps, you are ready to offer a prayer, asking God to open the window and come down....that you may be aware of God's presence in your life today, that you may be able to move toward the future that you are imagining, that you may respond to someone in need, around you, that you may be surprised with a blessing, today...that you may have HOPE.

Advent blessings,

Cheryl

Windows for the Imagination

2008-11-30T20:02:00.000-05:00

“We all need a window for the imagination.
We need a time and a place to stare out the window at the snow. We need places and practices that open the trapdoor in our imagination and allow the breath of greater worlds to enter our too-claustrophobic lives.”
~Julia Cameron, Walking In This World~

These are the windows of the Craft Company No. 6 Store in Rochester, NY. When I want to open the trapdoor in my imagination, this is one of my favorite places to visit. Here, I am able to take in the colors and shapes and textures and fragrances that have sprung from the imaginations of potters and woodworkers, jewelry and textile artisans. I can get lost for quite some time, just admiring the beauty here.

How about you? Where do you go, what do you do, when you want to open the trapdoor of your imagination?

This Advent, I am using the theme, "Windows for the Imagination" to guide my congregation's worship experiences. Each Sunday, we will look through a different window, seeking to allow access in our souls, for the entry of Christ into our lives, into our world. On Monday morning, I will post some resources to this blog, which may be used as additional windows for the imagination. It has been said that true change begins in the imagination. May it be so, for us, this Advent season.

Blessings,
Cheryl

Living With Limits

2008-10-06T08:34:00.000-04:00

In virtually every area of my life I am aware of myself and others struggling with important choices. It seems that in the church and in the presbytery, it is becoming more and more difficult to maintain a boundary around transformation, as our priority. To do that, we might have to use our time and resources differently, and because life is intended to be lived within limits, we can’t do it all. Something has to give. Some things – good and worthy and important things – may need to be given up, set aside, for a while.

Emerging from the Sabbatical season, I have some fresh perspectives about some new life-giving and potentially growth-inducing initiatives to which I am sensing God’s call. Web site development, building relationships outside the congregation, bringing new music experiences to the congregation, and leading the Session and Core team through a process of Communal Discernment around a bequest are four major new areas to which I can envision devoting major time and creative energy. However, to place boundaries around any of these new initiatives, I will have to make some changes. And the changes that I make will bump up against the way others experience their roles and responsibilities in the life of the church.

I have been daunted by the prospect of how to do this…but after God and I wrestled through the sermon last week, I am ready to begin. And I am now seeing that small, specific changes will get me on the way. For instance, I could pretty easily, sketch an outline of what I envision our web site might include, who I’d like it to reach, and how I’d like it to be used. Taking this to next week’s Session meeting might get the ball rolling on this initiative. At the same time, now that we are using a screen on Sunday mornings, do we really need printed bulletin announcements? Could I invite with my secretary and those preparing the powerpoint presentations to make a set of announcements slides that, once created, will require minimal time to update each week?
One small, specific change. That, I can do.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Garden Gleaning

2008-09-26T20:16:00.001-04:00

I am way overdue for a post. My intentions for a Monday morning bread-baking, blog-making routine have been difficult to establish. I did get some bread baked this week, but the blogging did not happen. So....tomorrow I am going, with some folks from my church, to Camp Whitman, where we will glean the vegetables that remain in the garden. We expect to bring back lots of tomatoes and peppers, which we will place on the Harvest Table on Sunday. The church's Harvest Table is open to community members, who are welcome to take what they want in exchange for a donation to our upcoming Hurricane Relief trip to New Orleans. Whatever produce is not purchased by the end of the day Sunday will be donated to the Ontario Food Pantry.

For any who are wondering what to do with the season's abundance of tomatoes and peppers, here is a recipe for Marinara Sauce that my mom shared with me. My freezer is bulging with containers of the sauce, which I will enjoy pulling out for a quick spaghetti meal all winter long.
This recipe is relatively quick and easy to make. The sauce is flavorful and freezes well. Enjoy

Marinara Sauce

2 cups minced onion 3-4 frying peppers
2 cloves garlic, crushed 1/4 cup olive oil

Saute onions, garlic, and peppers in oil until golden. Add tomatoes to fill Dutch oven and cook until soft. Press through food mill. Add two 12 ounce cans tomato paste, 1 cup dry red wine, 1 tablespoon salt, 1 tablespoon sugar, 2 teaspoons oregano. Heat to simmer. Makes 15 cups

Now...on to the Presidential debates. In a week that has been full of surprises, I am relieved that candidates are going forward with the debate. This is a time in which we especially need to hear what John McCain and Barack Obama have to say about the leadership they would offer our country.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Changing Seasons

2008-09-08T09:51:00.000-04:00

Today is a day of transition for me, marking a season of transition. I am moving from the Sabbatical Season into a new beginning with the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church of Ontario Center. Honoring the character of my Sabbatical, I am marking this new beginning with what I hope will become a Monday morning ritual. I have filled the bowl of my bread machine with the ingredients for a healthy oatmeal bread, and while the machine does the mixing, kneading, and rising, I intend to do some reading, ruminating, and writing….with my heart and mind aligned toward worship this Sunday. By means of a Monday morning blog entry, I hope to begin a conversation with the Scriptures and with anyone else to cares to read along and/or chime in, that will enrich our experience of worship by the time we reach Sunday.

So...this Sunday’s Old Testament text is Exodus 14:19-31, the story about the day God made it possible for the people of Israel to escape the great and powerful army of the Egyptians, who were in hot pursuit. Out of slavery in Egypt, their leader, Moses had led them. Out of oppression, beyond the reach of cruel taskmasters, and toward a new life, in a new place. And when it seemed that Israel had reached a place of no escape, literally caught between the sea ahead of them and the Egyptian army behind them, there, at that place a miracle happened. Moses raised his arm and a strong wind swept back the waters. The Israelites walked into the sea bed, a wall of water to the right and to the left, and the Egyptians pursued them, until thrown into a panic, they began to become bogged down in the mud. When Moses raised his arm again, the waters returned and the great and powerful Egyptian army perished in the waters of the Red Sea, while the people of Israel emerged, unscathed and freshly awed by the power of God. It is a great story that celebrates redemption, freedom from oppression, God’s love and compassion, God’s power to liberate.

But, today I notice that this deliverance came at great cost. What about the Egyptians? What about the mothers and wives whose sons and husbands were lost that day? What about the men who answered the call of their king and charged fearlessly and faithfully into a quagmire of mud? What about the Pharaoh of Egypt and his ambitious plans? What about the taskmasters whose cruelty prompted this exodus?

As we enter this fall election season, we are already hearing the words “my opponent” and "the enemy" quite frequently. We have fresh images of the power of wind and water to claim human, plant, and animal life and to destroy property. The great rejoicing by those who have escaped the path of a hurricane is tempered by the sobering reality that someone else’s life lies in ruins.

And so I will end this entry with a Jewish legend that quotes God’s words to an archangel who was celebrating the defeat of the Egyptian army. “Why do you celebrate, while the work of my hands is being destroyed?”

The Exodus gave the people of Israel an experience of God that was a reason for celebration. Especially in light of the loss that accompanied their deliverance, the story also invited the people of Israel (and us) to ponder what this new beginning offers...

Blessings,

Cheryl

Sunflowers

2008-08-12T18:24:00.000-04:00

“In a way, nobody sees a flower—really—it is so small—we haven’t time---and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time. If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it, no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small. So I said to myself, “I’ll paint what I see – what the flower is to me, but I’ll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it.” -Georgia O’Keeffe

Recently, I took the time to see this field of sunflowers, which somebody planted big. Row upon row of bright yellow, heads lifted toward the sun, roots drawing nourishment from the rich, fertile soil by the shores of Seneca Lake. Aren’t they spectacular? At a time when there is much angst and anxiety about the problems of our nation and world, in the midst of the quest for Olympic gold, while politicians argue over who has the right solutions, these flowers are quietly standing tall. Could they be seen as a sign of earth’s abundance? Do they invite your heart to gratitude? Or, perhaps they speak to you of the power that may be evoked, whether by the fortitude of a single, solitary individual or by the solidarity of the one standing among the many. Are they the ‘lilies of the field’ of which Jesus spoke, that neither toil nor spin, but are clothed by God? What do you see in a field of sunflowers?

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Cheryl

P.S. If you click on the photograph, you can see it, full size.

Shifts

2008-08-11T16:14:00.000-04:00

Lately, I’ve not been as faithful with this blogging thing as I had hoped, but with about a month remaining of my Sabbatical season, I am noticing that this time away from my work is starting to bring about shifts that are discernible…

The shift from a sense of urgency generated by attention to many tasks, people and relationships to a sense of peaceful mindfulness to whatever and whomever I happen to be present, at the moment. This has offered special moments with family and friends, many of whom I have not seen in quite some time. This past week, our son Peter was home, and I can’t remember the last time I was able to fully relax and enjoy his company. We’ve been bike riding, and together, we tackled a home improvement project: building a small pad for our gas grill out of paving stones. There was much sweat and digging of dirt involved, and we even discovered buried treasure at the manse. It seems that there was a brick walkway in our backyard at one time. We unearthed about a dozen bricks as we dug out the area where we laid the paving stones. We also found the decayed remains of a tree stump and disintegrating remnants of its root system.

Another shift I’ve noticed has entailed the move from theory to practice. I have long been interested in what makes life healthy and sustainable, over time….for individuals and for our planet. The purchase of my Prius was not simply prompted the impact on my pocketbook from rising gas prices, but by my desire to minimize the ecological impact of my driving habits. Previously, I have blogged about my interest in developing and promoting a food culture that is healthy and sustainable. But reading and writing about it are different from practicing it. I now realize that the changes I have begun to incorporate into my own life have evolved as a result of the breathing space this Sabbatical Season has afforded. It takes both intention and time to move into new ways of living and being. It also involves new learning and trying out what is not already familiar or comfortable....like blogging, for instance?

Soon, I hope to experiment with adding photos to my blog, and by September it is my intention to use "The Spiral Notebook" to share reflections on the Scriptures as well as daily life, as a part of preparing for worship with the congregation. It will be interesting to see what develops, as we follow this new learning curve.

For now, I am grateful for this Sabbatical season. Having cleared the calendar, I am also finding a clarity of mind, a clearing of heart, a cleansing of soul that, I trust, invites the sort of shifts that make authentic leadership, not to mention authentic humanity, possible.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Community Table

2008-07-25T15:57:00.000-04:00

I am still ruminating (pun intended) on questions about community relationship-building and what makes for sustainable, healthy living. I have re-read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I hope to attend a discussion based on the book at Third Pres. in Rochester this Sunday. I have also just completed Gary Hishberg’s Stirring It Up. Gary is the CE-YO of Stonyfield Yogurt, a company that is committed to organic and to building a business that is not only profitable, but good for the earth. Yesterday, I picked a bucket full of blueberries. My vegetable garden (patch) has been drinking in all the rain and there are signs that it just may yield some decent produce this summer. My experience with the food culture in France was a fresh reminder of how rewarding it can be to eat food that is prepared with fresh ingredients and eaten around a table with others, for pleasure, without attachment to efficiency.

Meanwhile, I had an epiphany about the communities of Ontario and Walworth. This is a community with a strong agricultural identity. Orchards and vineyards still grace our landscape, and vegetable gardens, even modest fields of crops can be found here. Yet we are also a community of new housing developments, ball fields, and businesses. The 104 corridor is lined with auto dealerships and gas stations…with fuel prices rising, what is the future for these places of business? It seems like there’s an unprecedented number of homes for sale right now. I have frequently heard laments that we lack community cohesiveness—that we are a community of individuals, households, and organizations without a center that holds.

I wonder if such a ‘center’ could be found be reclaiming our agricultural identity to establish a healthy, sustainable food culture for Ontario? Could a farmer’s market bring people together? Could our new community center be a venue for classes on organic gardening, cooking organically, even canning, freezing, preserving foods grown locally? Could a web site be a place to share stories and recipes? Given the popularity of the ubiquitous fund-raising meals of various civic and church organizations, could it be time to add periodic meals that feature an all-organic menu – not as a means of raising funds, but to raise awareness and to build relationships around a common concern for the health of our bodies and the healing of the earth?

As I continue ruminating...and reading....and experimenting with the food culture in my own home, I wonder what the fruits of this Sabbatical season will be?

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Summer Culinary Capers

2008-07-06T16:45:00.000-04:00

You should see the vegetable garden at Camp Whitman! Inspired by this year's environmental focus, our cook, Cathi Wallwork, and her family planted a garden that will soon be brimming with fresh produce. Along with the usual assortment of summer veggies, there are herbs, sunflowers, and other brightly colored flowers to attract bees and butterflies. The soil on the shores of Seneca Lake must be nutrient rich, because that garden is growing at an astounding rate. Cathi has been inviting campers to sit in the garden with her, where she tells stories, shows her garden journal, complete with pictures of the garden-in-the-making, and invites campers to write down their own comments. What a wonderful addition to our environmental focus!

At home, my garden is growing at a slower, albeit steady pace. I have hope that we may get to enjoy some tomatoes, peppers and squash by summer's end. Earlier this year, I read Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It is the story of the author's family's adventures in becoming locavores - eating only what they could produce or purchase in the geographical region in which they live. Concerned about the environmental impacts associated with growing and transporting foods all over the country, and wanting to eat foods that are healthier and tastier, Barbara and her family made a commitment to eat locally for one year, and then wrote a book about the experience. The book is full of information, inspiration, and recipes.

Anticipating the season of fresh, New York grown produce, I am reading the book again. On Saturday, I visited the Webster Farmer's Market, where I found a nice assortment of local fruits, veggies, and baked goods. Next weekend, I hope to check out the market in Fairport. With my first zucchini of the season, I made Zucchini Chocolate Chip cookies. They are delicious. Anyone anticipating a bumper crop of zucchini can check out the recipe at www.animalvegetablemiracle.com

In a week, I will return to Camp Whitman for Middle School Girl Power Camp. I hope to involve the girls in the garden, and we will undoubtedly try out some recipes that feature fresh veggies and fruits. I wonder if I can convince a group of Middle School girls of the pleasure that fresh, well-prepared and healthy food can bring. This week, I'll be trying out some more recipes!

Blessings and Bon Appetit to all,

Cheryl

Handle With Care

2008-06-27T13:07:00.000-04:00

I have been away from the computer for a while. Just returned from a week-end at the Chesapeake Bay, where I re-connected with a group of friends that go all the way back to first grade. What a gift it is to sustain friendships over a lifetime! Also spent a couple of days in Pennsylvania, visiting with my parents. It is always good to go "home."

This morning, I began my day with a cup of coffee, sitting in the backyard with a Bible and a journal. I turned to some notes from my time in Taize. The Bible Study was centered in the first few chapters of Genesis. Led by Brother Peter, of Taize, the studies were rich in insights, fresh in perspective and followed-up with evocative questions. We were invited to read the 7 days of creation like a chronological dance into freedom, noticing the gifts that were given, as each day of creation unfolded. For instance, with the first day, as night and day/light and darkness are created, there is the gift that makes it possible to see. It is inspiring to read Genesis 1 in this way, and to contemplate the gifts that have been offered to sustain the relationship that God desires among God, the universe and humanity. Brother Peter interprets the Sabbath as God's rest, in order to contemplate the creation....and to see that it is good.

Since returning from France, we have dug ans planted a modest vegetable garden. Our yard is pretty unruly, having taken a growth spurt in our absence. Some dead trees were removed while we were away, leaving empty brown circles. The weeds are thriving. The birds are singing. The sun is shining and there is a gentle, cooling breeze. I had been dreading the task of attempting to tame the wilds, but as I was reminded of the gifts in all of this, I was brought to a sense of wonder and joy. For the next couple of hours I happily planted some flowers and pulled lots of weeds...as the unruly gardens became a playground.

Among the questions Brother Peter 'planted' with us: What is your first impression of God, in the creation? and How do we exercise our responsibility for the creation?

On Sunday, I will begin a week at Camp Whitman, where I will serve as a Volunteer Leader with a group of Sr. High Counselors-In-Training. Our summer-long theme is "Handle With Care," and draws largely from the Genesis Scriptures. (I was delighted to discover how the Taize Bible Studies and the Camp Whitman curriculum coincide). I look forward to continuing my contemplation on the gifts in God's creation...and to exploring the invitation to partnership in handling with care the network of relationships into which I have been called.

I will be without access to technology during my time at camp. I will resume blogging upon my return home, July 4th.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Adjusting...Or Not

2008-06-17T20:18:00.000-04:00

We have been home for several days now, still very much in the midst of transitioning back into our lives here. Our bodies have not yet adjusted to the time zone difference, waking early and fizzling out shortly after dinner time. Our palates have not yet adjusted to a return to food, American style. It was a large accommodation to stop at Wendy’s on the way home from the Toronto airport. It may be fast, but it is not nearly as satisfying as a sandwich from a café or brasserie. And I already miss the café au lait to which I awakened each morning. Our ears have not yet adjusted to a totally English-speaking environment. Lindsay, especially, misses hearing the sounds of the French language. Our minds have not yet adjusted to such American traditions as Wegmans…it was sensory overload after having grown accustomed to shopping in neighborhood markets that sell only one type of food item…and SUVs – with the price of gas at 6.00 euros per gallon, (over $8.00) the French are driving small cars, Smart Cars, or riding motorcycles or bicycles, or using public transportation…and the absence of flower vendors everywhere. Every block has at least one florist and in restaurants, you are likely to encounter what Lindsay referred to as the “ubiquitous” rose man, who roamed from table to table with fresh roses for sale.

On the other hand, it is good to breathe fresh, clean air. Cigarette smokers are more publicly prevalent in France. A new “no-smoking inside restaurants” law has all the smokers sitting at the outdoor café tables – it was difficult to walk down any city street without inhaling someone’s smoke. It is good to be back in the comfort of our home, no longer living out of suitcases, searching out Laundromats, trying to navigate unfamiliar roads, or running to catch trains. It is good to have the rest of the summer for reading, writing, and reflecting, and enjoying life with family and friends.

This morning, as I listened to a CD of music I brought back from Taize, a flood of memories returned and reawakened my desire to consider how we might weave experiences of contemplative prayer, in community, more intentionally into our congregation/community/presbytery lives here. I read three books during our travels: "Three Cups of Tea," "Breathing Space" and "There Is No Me Without You." Each of them took place in a culture that is different from the one in which I live (although Breathing Space is situated in the US – the Bronx is not exactly Ontario, NY). Each of them explored the storyteller’s passion to engage a particular social justice need by building relationships in his/her own context: peace through access to education in Pakistan, new life and hope emerging from poverty and violence in the Bronx, and caring for orphaned children in the AIDS crisis in Ethiopia, respectively. How could I be more intentional about seeking out and becoming acquainted with those living on the margins of my community? Where are people struggling around me? How could I begin (or continue) in relationships that might lead to the discernment of appropriate responses? These are a few of the questions that are now bubbling to the surface. They are not new questions, for me, but questions that continue to pull at my heart, requesting renewed attention.

In the words sung by the brothers of Taize, and all who join them in prayer and solidarity:
"The kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Come, Lord, and open in us, the gates of your kingdom."

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Parlez-ing Francais

2008-06-14T13:30:00.000-04:00

Generally, when it comes to the debate about U.S. immigrants learning English, I have a great deal of empathy for those who want to retain their native language. Language is more than the words used to communicate. It is an expression of culture and a mode through which the essence of identity and belonging are expressed. It takes a great deal of effort to learn and use a new language. However, the ability to do this also allows access to the full expression of life in a new place.

Upon our arrival in France, I was curious to discover how I would manage with the language. At one time (30 or so years ago), I was fluent, but I haven't used French much since then. Although almost everywhere we went, there were English speakers, I wanted to be able to communicate with the French in their language--rather than expecting them to be able to accommodate to mine. I wondered, if I ask a question in French, will I be able to understand the answer? I found my French was adequate for all of the basic transactions that come with travel: restaurants, hotels, and train stations. I could read and understand the descriptions on placards at tourist sites and follow the spiels of tour guides, speaking French. I enjoyed following Scripture and prayer and singing hymns in French. As our time unfolded, my vocabulary and comprehension grew, while my ability to speak seemed to diminish (maybe it was a confidence thing.) But I've lost too much grammar and syntax and the nuances required for conversation seem to be buried deep in the recesses of long-term memory. Still it is amazing how much came back. And, I found such delight in listening and noticing which words and phrases are most commonly used in everyday speech. It amused me to discover common French expressions that, when translated literaly into English have an a humorous or thought-provoking nuance...

"coupe faim", the expression for snack, literally means to "cut hunger"

"Droit d'auteur" is the way the French say "copyright." It translates "the right of the author."

In restaurants, when waiters or waitresses come to the table to take your order they say,
"Je vous ecoute," which translates, "I am listening to you."

Gift shops often carried souvenir mouse pads. In French they are called, "tapis de souris,"
or "rug of a mouse."

A speed bump is a "dos d'ane" or "back of a donkey"

To flush a toilet is "chasse d'eau," or chase with water

In an ad for yoga, there was a reference to "respirer profondement," which means "breathe deeply," but gave me quite a chuckle when I translated it it more literally: "respirate profoundly."

To have the blues or be down in the dumps is to "avoir les cafards," which translates "to have cockroaches."

To faint is to "tomber dans les pommes," or fall into the apples.

You can get into trouble when you translate too literally, so Jack found out. On the day when the train station at Lyon was jam packed with soccer fans, a railway official came through to designate where folks were to stand for various destinations. In an effort to gain clarification, Jack shouted, "Pourquoi?" - which in his rudimentary, literally translated French meant "For what?" (Destination) However, Pourquoi is actually the French word for "Why?" So when the train official said stand here and Jack said, "Why?" she thought she was being challenged. Not a pretty picture, until we explained the miscommunication.

Many Europeans have at least one language other than their native language. We overheard an American business man declare that he gets along well in France, as long as they provide a good English translator. I wonder if he's ever considered learning French? Yes, it is important to retain the use of one's native language. However, much can be gained by learning and using the language of the places one lives and moves and conducts one's life and business. Everywhere we went, folks sized us up as an American family, looked at Lindsay and said, "Mais vous parlez bien le francais." (But you speak French so well.) Surprised, they were.

My admiration grows, for those who are able to function in a bi-lingual context. We are home now, full of memories and experiences to share. Parlez-vous francais?

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

The Opening Of The Window

2008-06-10T16:49:00.000-04:00

Following our round-about route to Chamonix, we settled into our hotel room, with its windows over-looking the mountains. Even with gray clouds hovering at the tree line, it was a beautiful scene: the spire of a church steeple, the Alpine-style buildings of the village, and the evergreen-clad hills rising in the background. We wondered when or where we would see Mt. Blanc – the highest summit in the Alps – and went to bed hoping for a break in the cloud cover.

The next morning, I drew back the curtain from the window, and there was a snow-clad mountain peak where there had been only clouds the night before. It was as if the mountain had materialized, overnight. Our hostess at the hotel told us they hadn’t seen the mountain in three weeks, so persistent have been the clouds. “If you want to go up the ‘Aiguille de Midi,’ I suggest you do it this morning,” she said, “before the clouds return.” The Aiguille de Midi, translates ‘The Mid-Day Needle.’ It is literally a rock needle at 12,600 feet above sea level. We rode in a gondola and soared up the face of the mountain. Disembarking, the view was breath-taking. At that level, ice and snow were everywhere. We could see mountain climbers and granite cliffs. The thin atmosphere quite literally took our breath away. We spent quite a while up there, snapping pictures and marveling over the amazing views in every direction.

On the way back down, we stopped at the Plan D’Aiguille, a (relatively speaking) level plateau from which hang-gliders were launching themselves off the edges of cliff and soaring in great circles over the valley below…eventually touching down after about a 20 minute flight. Breath-taking, exhilarating enough for me to watch….Jack and Lindsay were wishing they could soar, too.

Predictably, the clouds rolled back in by mid-afternoon and the window on the mountain closed. By day’s end it was pouring rain.

We found a little Reformed Church in Chamonix, and stopped in to join the little congregation for a Bi-Lingual Sunday evening service of praise and prayer. On this evening, with the three of us, the congregation totaled 8! Their pastor was away at a conference, and the service was entirely lay-led. It was simple and informal, and we were grateful to be able to join this gathering of faith, bearing its witness in the midst of the town’s tourism. Among those gathered were a man who’s just finished an assignment with the International Red Cross in Africa, a young woman from the U.K. who has been working in Chamonix this year, the worship leader, who is originally from Zimbabwe, and a couple of permanent residents of Chamonix. Each of us coming from different places, with differing needs, all of us looking for a window to stay connected to God and to a community of faith.

Our Chamonix adventure ended with the opening of yet another window on the mountain. This time, an early morning peek out of the hotel room window yielded nothing but fog---not even the tree line was visible. After I showered and dressed, it was my intention to go downstairs for a leisurely cup of coffee, while waiting for Jack and Lindsay to arise. Taking the spiral staircase down to the lobby, I glanced out the window, and there was the mountain again. In the space of less than ½ hour the fog had lifted completely, and the skies were blue. With just enough time to squeeze in one more Alpine adventure before our planned departure, we boarded the rack-and-pinion Montenvers Train to the Mer de Glace – Sea of Ice…France’s largest glacier.

The little train carried us up 1930 meters above sea level, to look out upon a snaking ribbon of ice, coated with a dusty gray mantle of dirt. The ice descends deep into the earth and winds as far as the eye can see. Intrepid hikers and mountain-climbers were walking across it, en route to ascend and scale the heights. It was impressive to see this chunk of ice, which, like many of our earth’s glaciers, is shrinking.

Looking at the majestic mountains and the diminishing “Sea of Glass,” it is sobering to think that the window could close indefinitely….another reminder to be intentional about the way we live and care for the earth.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

P.S. I expect this will be my last post from France. We return to the U.S. on Thursday, June 12. I hope to continue the practice of blogging once we are back home.

Separating the Sheep from the Goats

2008-06-07T14:43:00.000-04:00

We have endured our first encounter with major travel glitches. Most of the time, the train system is an efficient and intelligible way to get around in France. But when there is a problem, there is also the domino effect. For us, it began with a misunderstanding in Nice that put us on the wrong train. Several hours and four attempts at the ticket window later, we finally figured out another way to get to Chamonix, our next destination. In the process, we discovered it makes all the difference, what questions you ask. Repeatedly, we were told, “No space on the trains to Chamonix, today or tomorrow.” But when we asked for a train to Lyon (a connecting hub to Chamonix), it was no problem. Not on the day we expected to get there, but the next day. We had to book a hotel in Lyon and adjust our reservations in Chamonix, but a way was opened and for that we were grateful…

Until we showed up at the train station in Lyon to board our 9:00 a.m. train for St. Gervais…then on to Chamonix. The train station was swarming with people. At the appointed hour, we went to the departure platform to stand with the masses. A train arrived and we were swept into a human tide and crammed, bag and baggage into the entry way of the train, which was posted not only for St. Gervais, but also for Geneva, Switzerland. That’s when it dawned on us – today is the opening day of the Euro 2008 Soccer Tournament in Geneva. The throngs of people were soccer fans, Geneva bound…and quite a few others, like us, trying to get to other places in the region. The train was going no where and we were informed those of us headed to destinations other than Geneva would need to board another train. Eventually, the whole train was emptied and it left the station sans passageurs (without passengers), while everyone waited for more trains and more instructions.

Eventually, the train officials began moving through the crowd, designating particular areas for the various destinations. Here for Geneva, there for St. Gervais. “It’s like separating the sheep from the goats,” I quipped. “Which is which?” my family asked, to which I declined to respond. The crowds and delays meant we would miss our intended connecting train to Chamonix. We had no idea what other options we would be offered upon our arrival in St. Gervais. Would we be able to make it all the way to Chamonix by bed time? If not, where would we spend the night? Will we get to see the Alps? And when will the cloud that has been hovering over France disperse? These are the questions that occupied our thoughts as we sped toward St. Gervais.

Yes, there was a connecting train, within a half-hour after we arrived in St. Gervais. We made it all the way to Chamonix by mid-afternoon. We have seen the foothills of the Alps, but the stubborn clouds are still hovering. There is a hopeful forecast for tomorrow. We are situated at the foot of Mt. Blanc, the highest summit in the Alps. We hope to explore the heights tomorrow, weather permitting. If not the heights, there are mountain trails that can be walked. Who knows, maybe we’ll see some sheep…or perhaps it will be goats we encounter. I wonder if it’s raining in Geneva?!

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Sanctuary

2008-06-05T03:54:00.000-04:00

Sunday morning found us not at church (malheurusement), but at Clos Luce, which was, in its own way, a sanctuary, holy ground. Our couple of hours at Clos Luce offered nourishment for heart and soul. This is the castle where Leonardo Da Vinci spent the last three years of his life. Leonardo’s words, mounted on plaques throughout the chateau, spoke to us of his wisdom, of truth, as he saw it, and of light…across the centuries. Translated from the French….

"What can stop hatred but love?"
"A day well lived gives a good sleep. A life well lived gives a tranquil death."
"It is necessary to contemplate. It is necessary to think: the one who thinks little is fooled much."
"Wisdom is the daughter of experience."
"Strength comes always on the other side of an obstacle."
"It is easier to oppose yourself at the beginning that at the end."
"Love triumphs over all."
"If you want to stay in good health, follow this regimen: do not eat anything without the desire for it."
"The water ranges the mountains and fills in the valleys. If she wanted to, she could reduce the world to a perfect sphere."

Reading words like these, we were surrounded by reproductions of some of Leonardo’s drawings and paintings, beautiful furnishings, and classical music playing softly in the background. In his bed chamber, where he died, is his beautiful rendering of the annunciation to Mary—a print of which I purchased There were also drawings, explanations and small models of some of Leonardo’s inventions. Beyond the chateau are gardens with life-size models and reproductions of his works. Huge canvasses hung from the trees bear the likeness of some of his works. Also nestled among the plants, water, and trees were Leonardo’s sketches, revealing the close student of nature that he was.

Prolific inventor, problem-solver, and artist, Leonardo was an inquisitive student not only of nature, but also humanity and human systems. Many of his inventions, we discovered, were attempts to solve the problems of cities or make wheels or gears move more efficiently. Some were pure flights of fancy, such as a design for a helicopter and a contraption with wings like a bat that was an attempt to make it possible for humans to fly. We wandered, we marveled, and we were moved to gratitude for the gifts and the legacy, not only of Leonardo, but also for all who made it possible for his gifts to be expressed and preserved. Leonardó’s years at Clos Luce were the gift of King Francois I, himself a dreamer who must have seen in Leonardo a like-,minded soul…and thus opened the space for him to work. The chateau and its accoutrements have been carefully preserved and are reverently displayed. Some of the models of his inventions were rendered b y IBM.

Clos Luce invites us to see, as he did, the possibilities beyond the limits of our own minds. Although the "congregation" with whom we gathered was tourists and the experience was the celebration of the gifts of a human being…it had the fingerprints of God all over it. For those who have eyes to see and ears to heart and hearts to understand, Clos Luce is also a witness to the manifold expression of the gifts of God – visible in nature and flowing from God’s creative and beneficent hand to animate the mind of Leonardo Da Vinci. Leonardo was able to see and think and imagine way beyond his day. In his own words…"I plead to God, light of all things, to enlighten me, so that I may treat with dignity the light." Amen.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Going to the Dogs

2008-06-05T03:53:00.000-04:00

We have departed the Dordogne Region, where there was so much to see and appreciate that we find ourselves hoping to return someday. But now, we have traveled to the Loire Valley, an area known for its chateaux and wineries. Not unlike our own Finger Lakes Winery Region, the landscape here is adorned with neat rows of grapevines, fields freshly planted with corn and some with already ripening grain. The roses are blooming in the Loire Valley…not to mention the iris, geraniums, pansies and fragrant honeysuckle.

The chateaux here are castles built by kings, not for purposes of fortification, but for sheer pleasure. In our time here, we visited three of them: Chambord, commissioned by King Francois I, who, at age 20, became king and dreamed of building the most impressive castle anywhere. It is huge, with elaborate adornment, including a central spiral (double helix) staircase. Francois only spent 72 days at his dream house…its construction actually went on long after he died.

We also visited Cheverny, the most elaborately furnished of the chateaux, and a castle where fox hunting – on horseback with hunting dogs – it still practiced. We planned our time to be at Cheverny for the feeding of the dogs—71 of them (a mixed breed that is half English bloodhound and half French pointrou). The 5:00 feeding is a spectacle that draws a crowd. Contained within a kennel with a cement floor, brick-wall and wrought iron railing, the hounds relax, play, rumble and occasionally howl…until their trainer enters, when the howling commences in earnest. He releases them to a rooftop caged-in area while he prepares the "dining hall" below.

Step 1: ½ hour before feeding time, scoop buckets-full of water out of the watering trough and throw them onto the kennel floor, washing away all traces of dog hair and excrement.

Step 2: Bring wheelbarrow full of meat into the kennel and dump the pile of whole raw chicken, and other various bird parts onto the kennel floor and spread it evenly within the trough that runs from one end of the kennel to the other.

Step 3: Open the bag of kibble. Drizzle the contents of the bag over the raw birds until the bag is empty.

Step 4: Stand at the doorway of the kennel, bullwhip in hand, for 15 minutes, while the dogs watch and wait from their rooftop vantage point.

Watching the various waiting styles is hilarious. Some of them sit with eyes fastened on the food—staring intently. Others lie down, seemingly oblivious to the meal waiting below, apparently confident that they will be fed, in due time. Still others pace and roam restlessly, occasionally howling about it.

Step 5: When the clock tower bell rings 5:00 p.m., walk to the gate that leads to the rooftop and open it to the hounds, now raising a ruckus.

Step 6: Stand between the hounds and their food with the bullwhip, waving it in front of the dogs, so they will ‘’toe the invisible line." Gradually step backwards until you are on the other side of the food. When you are ready, lift the whip and step out of the way. The pack will charge the food, jumping on and among one another in an all-out feeding frenzy. Some will grab whole birds; there will be tugs-of-war, and some, aware that they don’t stand a chance of nabbing any meat, will concentrate on consuming as much kibble as they can. When it’s over, there won’t be a speck of meat or kibble on the kennel floor and the dogs will finish the meal by licking the juices that have dribbled onto the backs of their kennel-mates.

What a riot. This eating regimen obviously fits with the larger scheme of training the dogs to hunt. It would be fascinating to see them in action. Going to the dogs was an unexpected and much enjoyed experience in the Loire Valley.

Clos-Luce, the third Chateau that we visited, was another highlight, worthy of its own blog entry, which will follow this one, as time and internet access allow.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Beneath the Surface

2008-05-31T06:02:00.000-04:00

It has been amazing, to us, to see and discover all that lives and grows beneath the surface of the earth. During our time in the Dordogne, we merely scratched the surface. In the first cave we visited, the stalagtytes have grown, not only in vertical, but also in horizontal formations, giving an appearance that may be likened to stars in the night sky. Necks craned and heads tilted back, we star-gazed beneath the surface of the earth. It was every bit as awe-inspiring as watching the stars in the sky...and to see these intricate and infinitely fascinating formations growing, unbeknownedst to us, underground, was a fresh reminder of the many mysteries that are a part of our universe.

In two other caves, we began to learn about the etchings of the humans who inhabited the Dordogne 12,000-20,000 years ago. Fascinating enough are the caves themselves, still actively growing stalagtytes and stalagmytes...columns as thin as a strand of spaghetti or as rotund as the trunk of a centuries-old tree. Did you know that when these columns are broken, they cease growing? Another mystery.

Even more fascinating, are the drawings that have been discovered on the walls of the cave. No one knows why they drew...but it is believed there may have been a spiritual purpose to the drawings. Indeed, one of the guides described the cave as a sanctuary, holy ground. To the untrained eye, in the dimly lit cave, there was nothing more to see than the walls sculpted by underground rivers and glacier melt...but with flashlights and laser pointers, and the trained eye of our guide, we began to see the outlines of the animals, scratched with flint on the walls--the line of a head, a back, legs....of horses, buffalo, even wooly mammoths, and occasionally a human being. Often they followed the concave or convex contours of the cave walls to give the drawings a more 3-dimensional appearace. Sometimes, the lines of one drawing would be incorporated into the lines of another--superimposed to create an entirely new image. Minerals were sometimes used to add color, blown through a hollow bone. It was interesting to note that although the sketches were not more than simple rudimentary outlines, in many of them, eyes were drawn with signficantly greater attention to detail...bringing to my mind the words of Jesus that the eye is the lamp of the soul. I wonder if these ancient humans had this sense as well.

The discovery and excavation of the many caves of the Dordogne yields a glimpse of the life that once existed and still lives beneath the surface, where there is much to learn and there are many un-answered questions. These caves appear not to have been used for living or protection. Why, then, were they used? What did the people do in these sanctuaries, deep in the ground? And what was being communicated through the drawings? Although our guides, with their trained eyes, were able to show us the drawings and help us see the contours of the animals represented, they did not attempt to explain or interpret or analyze or answer the questions evoked within these holy spaces.

"Imagination" and "curiosity" were words we heard a lot, in these caves. These are spaces that evoke awe and inspire appreciation for the creative life force that exists, even beneath the surface.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Chasing Wild Geese

2008-05-28T16:29:00.000-04:00

On Monday, we picked up our rental car and departed from Nantes to drive to the Dordogne Region, an area known for caves full of fascinating rock formations and pre-historic drawings dating back as much as 20,000 years. This is also the area where the bones of 'Cro-Magnan' man were first discovered. It is a region of stunning natural beauty and home to many foie-gras farms that produce the goose liver pate for which France is well known. Thus, as we were headed to goose country, it seemed fitting to dub our journey here...a wild goose chase.

It started out well enough, as we carefully followed the MapQuest directions Jack generated (having converted the miles to kilometers first (bien sur). It took a while to figure out how the roads here are identified...and just about every intersection is a round-about, with other roads shooting out of the center like the spokes of a wheel.

And we learned, on this wild goose chase of ours, that nothing is open in France on Monday. With the baguette and peanut butter we brought long gone, we began looking for a cafe in one of the many towns we drove through. "Ferme" (closed) was the word of the day. Finally we stopped, believing that if we got out and walked through the side streets of a village, surely we'd find something. After more chasing of wild geese, we got back in the car and drove on, still hungry and thirsty. Relief came in a surprising form: an Irish pub, dropped in the midst of the French countryside, and the sign said, "Ouvert" (open). Entering, we were greeted in English and served a hot and hearty meal of Irish stew and fish & chips...fortification to forge on.

About half-way through the 8 hour drive, we discovered a problem with our directions...they stopped far short of our destination. It turns out there are two towns named Beynac in France. The one where we wanted to go has the fuller name Beynac et Cazenac...the one to which our directions led is simply Beynac. Fortunately, we had picked up a map from the rental car dealer and with the exception of a couple of moments when we were clueless enough that we had to stop and ask for help with directions, we figured it out.

Our wild goose chase brought us to the good that laid the golden egg as we drove, finally, into Beynac. The scenery all the way along the Dordogne River was spectacular and as we drew nearer our destination, we started spying the castles tucked into the hillsides. We knew that our hotel was called, "Hotel du Chateau," so we'd wonder, Is that our castle? and then, rounding a bend we saw it: the silhouette against a twilight sky of a magnificent medieval castle towering over the river valley. A monument to the day when fear of invading Norsemen led to the construction of fortresses designed to be impenetrable. Our hotel and the little town of Beynac, are nestled between the swiftly flowing and mud-swollen Dordogne and the castle cliffs. All of the buildings here are made of yellow sandstone with tile roofs, making for villages that are quaint and picturesque. After a day of chasing wild geese, we celebrated our safe arrival with dessert at the hotel cafe and a deep exhale of gratitude.

Our day of travel had its challenges, but also pleasant surprises....moments of difficulty and also moments of sheer delight. The Dordogne Region, we are discovering, is full of treasures just waiting to be discovered....for those who don't mind chasing wild geese, that is.

Blessings,

Cheryl

Lindsay's Stair-Master Tour of Paris

2008-05-24T12:12:00.000-04:00

Well, we have wound down our time in Paris and we are now sitting in an internet cafe in Nantes. We'd love to know how many stairs we ascended and descended during our one week in Paris. It all began with the 52 stairs from the courtyard to our apartment. Add to that the running up and down...in and out of the Metro...all week long. We also climbed the steep ascent to Montmartre - where sidewalk artists sketch and paint - to the summit of its crowning jewel - the cathedral, Sacre Coeur. The panoramic view and full moon over Paris was worth every step. Mid-week, we joined the centuries of pilgrims who have walked the stone stairs of Mont St. Michel - seekers of a place to worship God under the protective watch of the gilded sword-wielding watch of Saint Michel.

We did not climb the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, and our late evening attempt to ascend the Arc de Triomphe was thwarted by our late arrival back to Paris and a complicated sequence of Metro hops that got us there just after it closed. The late night outing was redeemed by positioning ourselves at The Trocadero, where we saw the Eiffel Tower sparkle. Every hour, on the hour, the already illuminated tower dazzles with tiny white lights blinking in rapid, firefly sequence.

With our Museum Pass, we skipped through some long lines and traipsed up and down the stairs and passageways that led to the colorful impressionist works of Van Gogh, Degas, and Renoir at the Musee D'Orsay, the unforgettable water-lily masterpieces of Monet that fill two rooms of L'Orangerie, and the grand scale of the Louvre...where we gawked at the Mona Lisa, admired the statue of the Venus de Milo, and surveyed works of some of the Italian Renaissance masters. We joined some school kids (gamin) and tourists for a picnic lunch on the steps of the Musee D'Orsay, resting our very tired feet.

Somewhere in the midst of climbing yet another flight of stairs, we started referring to our Paris adventure as "Lindsay's Stair-Master Tour." Yet, all of the walking and climbing did not deter Jack from a run along the Seine, admittedly accomplished early in the week. Lindsay knows the city well enough that she guided us quite capably through the congestion that is typical in a city the size of Paris. And she only lost us once, when we all jumped onto a jam-packed metro, only to discover that Lindsay had entered a different car from Jack and I. We had not a clue where we were going and Lindsay had the only functioning cell phone among us, so we had a few moments of panic until the next Metro stop, when Lindsay hopped out of the car she had entered and popped onto the once we occupied, much to our immense relief. That was day one on the Metro. Needless to say, from that point on, we were more vigilant when stepping onto the train.

Although we all enjoyed the experience that is Paris, we were also ready to board one final set of stairs onto the train that carried us through the country-side to the much smaller and quite charming city of Nantes, Lindsay's home for the past 9 months. We have been greeted by typical Nantais weather...pouring rain...so we've done a bit of exploring and some resting. Tomorrow we'll go to Lindsay's church, where we will worship in a French-speaking congregation, and we'll experience the open-air market here in Nantes. Monday we depart for the Dordogne Region.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Eating In Paris

2008-05-22T13:31:00.000-04:00

No, it’s not about gourmet foods served by tuxedo-clad waiters, but the daily adventure of purchasing fresh foods from local vendors and preparing simple meals from our apartment kitchen. Each morning, I am able to find, in the space of less than a city block, small stores: la boulangerie for our daily bread, la charcuterie for fresh meat, les fruits and les legumes (produce), and a small supermarche for delicious dairy products, like yogurt and cheese, not to mention la confiture – the jams that are amazing on French breads. There are also plenty of restaurants and cafes in our little neighborhood, called Le Marais, but we have chosen to take advantage of having a kitchen, for now. For the French, breakfast is bread and jam, with coffee. Lunch is more bread, with cheese, fruit and perhaps some yogurt. For our dinners, we especially enjoyed a roasted chicken, purchased at a fresh air market and cooked with new baby potatoes, and spaghetti, made with sauce containing locally produced spiced sausage. It is very satisfying and economically reasonable to purchase only the food that is needed for the day, wasting little and driving not at all, to bring food to the table. I am inspired to continue reflecting on how we might modify our shopping and eating habits, at home, to include more locally grown foods---less meat and more of the fresh fruits and veggies that will soon be in season in New York…

…Which is not to say that we have not also enjoyed some culinary delights prepared and served in restaurants. We took a break from our Paris immersion experience to travel to Mont St. Michel for an over-night. An impressive abbey built high on an island over the course of several hundred years, Mont St. Michel is, as they say, a place between the heavens and the earth. We stayed in a hotel inside the walls and climbed winding stone staircases to reach our room, tucked behind centuries-old stone walls---looking out at the belfry and down on the pigeons and gulls roosting at the apex of one of the many rooflines below. Here, at Le Mouton Blanc (The White Sheep), we enjoyed our first authentic French repast, featuring the cuisine of the Normany region. Jack’s seafood plate first-course contained species, the likes of which we had never before seen, complete with special tools to dig out the delicacies. I dined on rack of lamb, prepared according to local custom, and a salad with goat cheese. Desserts of crème brulee and profiteroles (ice cream filled puffs drizzled with chocolate and crowned with fresh whipped cream) finished the meal. Did we mention that we are eating well?

Mont St. Michel was a welcome respite from the congestion of Paris. It is awe-inspiring to reflect on the persistence, courage, and faith of those who built this impressive abbey. They gave hours of labor for the sake of a project, the completion of which they would never see. The imagination, ingenuity, and engineering acumen that were required are quite impressive. It is built over-looking the English channel and affords a vista that is truly soul-stirring. Our overnight visit allowed us to experience the setting in the evening tranquility, to see the Mont illumined against the night sky, and to spend a leisurely day exploring the edifice and grounds.

By now, we have returned to Paris, and tomorrow (Friday) we will travel, by train to Nantes. We are grateful for Lindsay, our tour guide….more about that in our next posting. As I bring this post to a close, I would be remiss if I did not mention one more Parisian culinary delight. Yes, we found the best ice cream in town, courtesy of a recommendation from Peter and Andrea, who discovered the place in their visit earlier this spring. Believe it or not, ice cream with liqueur-soaked prunes is not to be missed.

Blessings to all,

Cheryl

Pilgrimage

2008-05-16T15:35:00.000-04:00

"Bless the Lord, my soul, and bless God's holy name. Bless the Lord my soul, who leads me into life."

Imagine singing these simple words, set to a beautiful melody, over and over again...Imagine singing them in a darkened candle-lit church adorned with the bright reds and oranges of Pentecost...Imagine yourself engulfed in a sea of humanity--2,000 souls from all over the world, singing and speaking a common prayer...sitting in silence and listening to readings from Scripture...Imagine singing in English or Latin, or perhaps German or French, and in the singing...imagine losing yourself and finding God's love.

This is worship at Taize. After the long, but blessedly uneventful journey, I was grateful to arrive. Life at Taize is built around worship, 3 times a day. When the carillon of bells rang, we all converged upon the church. We stopped whatever we were doing, morning, noon, and night...to remember who we are and to see God's peace for our lives and for our world.

Taize is set in the idyllic French countryside, surrounded by rolling green hills, the songs of birds, and even the distant lowing of cattle. In this setting, a community of brothers have chosen to seek peace and reconciliation for our world through a life of simplicity, poverty, and prayer. The community they have formed also welcomes guests, a week at a time, all year long. Many of them (the majority of them) are Sr. High youth and young adults, who have made a pilgrimage to Taize from their homes and churches. German schools have been on holiday this week, so there has been a strong German presence here.

Around worship, our day includes meals, chores (I help wash the dishes after lunch) Bible Study led by one of the Taize brothers and small group discussions with other guests. There is also time for walking, reading, and resting. The rhythm of life in this place is good for the soul...in work and worship, solitude and community, song and silence, Scripture and conversation, a sense of wonder and praise is awakened, the soul is filled with gratitude and love, and the heart is opened to receive God's good gifts. It has been an amazing experience, and I was sorry to leave.

However…today was the day to travel to Paris. Lindsay and I both boarded trains this morning and made a successful rendez-vous at the train station in Paris. After a short ride on the metro, we moved into the apartment that will be home for the week. It is a charming place in a neighborhood that has a lot of historic character. Jack flies over tonight and we will retrieve him from the airport in the morning. We have already visited the local markets to fill our kitchen with fresh food and we are soon ready for bed.

My French is coming back...and I am loving the immersion in all things French!

Blessings,

Cheryl

Blending In?!

2008-05-10T14:12:00.000-04:00

For a little pre-travel fun and inspiration, I returned to an essay, written by Barbara Kingsolver, entitled, “Going to Japan.” In the essay, Barbara writes about her intention to learn about Japanese culture, prior to traveling there, so as to be able to ‘blend in.’ She didn’t want to commit any cultural faux-pas. She didn’t want to come across as the Ugly American.

In spite of her careful attempts to prepare, she found ‘blending in’ impossible. There were too many unknown and unwritten cultural rules. Her cultural faux-pas were many. And yet, where she was mortified, the Japanese were exceedingly forgiving.

So, I wonder if it’s not about blending in, after all. If you can’t prepare for cultural differences, you might as well accept them. I wonder what that will mean for us, in France? I am accustomed to smiling and making eye contact with strangers…not so typical, in France. I am able to use the language, at least to a limited extent….yet sometimes, I am told, it is preferable to use English than to attempt French that is less than adequate. My clothing, especially at this time of the year, features bright colors…yet Lindsay describes French wardrobes as mostly color-less. I believe I, too, can forget about blending in.

At home, my congregation will welcome a new pastor, for the Sabbatical season. What unknown and unwritten rules of the congregation’s culture will be revealed? What cultural differences will be expressed?

Accepting cultural differences, it seems to me, begins with the awareness that they exist.
To deny them or seek to gloss over them with the veneer of our common humanity can be a form of disrespect. To affirm that our common humanity is displayed through many languages, is reflected in a broad range of customs, and is conditioned by our life experiences is the beginning of learning who we are. Better to approach with awareness of self and curiosity toward others. With a ‘beginner’s mind,’ who knows what surprises may lie ahead?!

Blessings,

Cheryl

Entering...

2008-05-02T13:19:00.000-04:00

A couple of years ago, I began walking the spiral path of the labyrinth. Alone and with others, I found on that path: gratitude, a deepening sense of connection with God, and a growing awareness of how I might live, with mindfulness and intention, toward God and toward the others I encounter on the path - of the labyrinth, and of life.

For many years, I have also written on the pages of a spiral notebook. Like the labyrinth, my spiral-bound journals have held my reflections about life while also giving me a fresh and daily awareness that the contours and content of my life are being held and shaped by God.

Now, I am about to enter yet another spiral path. For the next four months, I will enter a Sabbatical Season: a time away and apart from the relationships and responsibilities of my work, as a pastor... a time to move toward and into the relationships and experiences of family and friends, of leisure and travel, of encountering strangers and becoming re-acquainted with the stranger within...a time to search out experiences that will bring joy and delight...a time to experiment and explore, to remember and to be renewed, in body, mind and spirit.

The spiral path of my Sabbatical will begin on the evening of Pentecost, when I will board a plane in Toronto and be carried to Paris, France. From there I will travel, by train, to Taize, entering into the prayers and practices of this ecumenical community for a trinity of days. My soul awakened and nourished, I will travel back to Paris, to connect with Lindsay, who is finishing up her study-abroad experience in Nantes, and with Jack, who will fly over to meet us. From there, we’ve planned a month, to explore the sights, sounds, fragrances, tastes and textures of France.

Entering the season of Sabbatical seems as fitting a time as any to enter the sphere of blogging, as well. Led and inspired by my intrepid daughter, who has kept us informed, amused, and delighted by posting to her blog, many of her experiences, in words and pictures, I will begin this practice….and see what happens. thespiralnotebook is intended to be a place of reflection and hospitality, among family, friends, church members, colleagues, and strangers.

May you be blessed,

Cheryl