tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68207199995430921282024-03-13T22:27:26.154-05:00House of GraceRevdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.comBlogger338125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-46428685617963542632017-08-18T10:31:00.000-05:002017-08-18T10:31:11.872-05:00Renovating the Blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been blogging via blogspot for a number of years. I love being able to connect with you through words and images.<br />
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Sadly, about a year ago, blogspot stopped supporting blogging from mobile devices. Since I blog most often when I travel, and I prefer to travel light, I've been searching for a platform that allows me to blog via my phone.<br />
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Today I imported this blog (<i>revdbethhouseofgrace.blogspot.com</i>) to my new blog site<br />
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I'm still learning how to use this new service--which is always a good neurological practice.<br />
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Meanwhile, please be patient as I learn how to do this. And join me on this next writing journey.<br />
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-36768362186299300192017-06-11T10:15:00.001-05:002017-06-11T10:15:22.894-05:00The Twenty Four Project: Labyrinth Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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One of my favorite things to do on vacation is to find and walk labyrinths. There is a great <a href="https://www.labyrinthlocator.com/" target="_blank">website </a>that helps you locate labyrinths near you. I'm still hoping that one day (soon!) we'll build a labyrinth at St. Mary's, and I'm always curious about how communities create labyrinths--there is a world of materials and designs.<br />
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On my trip to North Carolina, I found five labyrinths to walk in two days:</div>
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<li>Outdoors beside the Stations of the Cross at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church</li>
<li>Outdoors at the Cancer Hospital of University of North Carolina Health Care (where I prayed for those fighting cancer, their health providers, and those who love and support them)</li>
<li>Outdoors at another Episcopal Church in Chapel Hill that had been built as a scout project ten years before and not maintained; I could only walk <b><u>to</u></b> it, not <u><b>on</b></u> it because the path was no longer visible due to lack of care (I know, there's a sermon there)</li>
<li>Outdoors at Duke Integrative Medicine in Durham</li>
<li>Indoors at Calvary Methodist Church</li>
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Each labyrinth had it's own gift of prayer, but the one at Calvary was added as a recipient of the 24 Project, the 24@ $100 giving mission I began in January in response to twenty four years of priesthood. The project will be coming to a close later this month in anticipation of my next project in celebration of twenty five years of ordination to the [transitional] diaconate.</div>
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Calvary Methodist is one of those precious churches that seems to have fallen on harder financial times and is faithfully seeking its mission amidst change. Their labyrinth was in the basement of what appeared to be the parish hall. It had been created in the floor itself by linoleum square tiles placed in a rectangular pattern in the Chartres design. (I wondered: <i>Why didn't we do that at St. Mary's when we replaced the tiles in our upstairs gathering space?</i>). What I loved about the labyrinth was all of the events that happened on top of the labyrinth--with most folks, I imagined, not even knowing about the prayer foundation upon which they stood.</div>
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When I had called about walking the labyrinth, the administrative assistant told me that there were chairs arranged on it, and the room was set up for food distribution and medical and social services that afternoon. Could I wait until after that event, and their volunteers would move the chairs so that I could walk the labyrinth? How many layers of ministry can you count here?</div>
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But there was more: When I went to do my prayer walk the next day, the administrator told me that on Sunday afternoon that space was used for two different worshipping communities. What holy stewardship!</div>
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So I gave $100 from the 24 Project to this faith-filled community--followers of Christ who have taken what they have been given as abundance and used it to cast wide a net of God's love. The labyrinth at Calvary United Methodist may not be the very most beautiful by outward appearances, but it is definitely one of the very most exquisite by God's reflection through it.<br />
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-80749169852781529792017-06-06T09:51:00.000-05:002017-06-11T09:07:15.933-05:00God's Good Traveling Mercies<div style="color: rgb(69 , 69 , 69); font-family: ".sf ui text"; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">After an hour wait on the tarmac in Houston before taking off, I finally arrived in North Carolina. My friend was waiting to pick me up so that we could do the three hour drive to our concert. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">We stopped about halfway to get some bug spray for the outdoor venue. Afterwards, my friend met me at the car with the question, "Could you stay another day for a concert?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">Turns out that the concert we'd both traveled many miles to attend had been cancelled due to bad weather. It was rescheduled on Wednesday night, a few hours after my flight home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">Remembering I'd put this trip in God's good hands at four that morning, we peacefully grabbed a bite at the local burger place and pondered what to do next. On a whim, I called United once again. Yes, they were happy to change my flight to the morning after the concert, and since I'd already been inconvenienced by a cancelled flight, they'd wave all fees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">Now I'm coming back on the early flight Thursday, home in plenty of time for my Thursday appointments. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">It was lovely after a day of travel having a quiet evening chatting and laughing at the hotel. Today I am on slow time in Durham. I have a conference call in a few minutes, but I'll do it outside drinking coffee at a favorite place of one of my clergy friends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">Then I'll see what the day has in store. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext";">God is the best travel agent ever.</span><img src="webkit-fake-url://8b0177d5-fc64-4e10-9931-b0f0abafa405/imagejpeg" style="text-align: center;" /></div>
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-14817250520428072072017-06-05T10:19:00.000-05:002017-06-05T10:19:21.822-05:00Unexpected Road Trip<div>
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The news you never want to wake up to at 3.30 in the morning for your 7.30 AM flight: CANCELLED. The good news was that I'd been rebooked on the flight arriving at 10.30 tonight <u>except</u> the purpose of my visit was to attend an Indigo Girls--Joan Baez--Mary Chaplin Carpenter concert that would have been done by then. Sigh.<br />
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A very helpful United agent helped me find alternate flights that would get me there in time. So I'm going to Raleigh via Charlotte, and my friend waiting for me in Durham is driving over to pick me up so we can make it to the concert. Road trip with a bonus of a first class upgrade!<br />
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And when it looked like at 4 this morning that I was going to miss the concert I did remember to pray--for God to get me where I needed to be today.<br />
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Thanks, God. Traveling Mary is on her way to a concert in North Carolina.Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-16285755185520968612017-03-18T10:28:00.000-05:002017-03-18T10:33:22.660-05:00Lenten Retreat: Standing to be blessed<div>
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This is my last day of retreat on Tybee Island. <br />
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My friend and I were up before dawn for the walk to the beach to see the sunrise. Then we sat on a swing that faced the ocean and did morning prayers to greet the new day.<br />
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Returning back to the Blue Bird Cottage, enjoying the first coffee of the morning, I continued to read and pray. As is my custom when I travel, I prayed a month's worth of the St. Mary's daily cycle of prayer. I love holding the name of each St. Mary's parishioner in my hands and heart and lifting them to The Holy One. It's a particularly good practice as I prepare to return to be with them for worship in the morning.<br />
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Yesterday afternoon I sat at the table the looks over the marsh and created a few cards. As the sun set, I held friends and family in prayer.<br />
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Having time to wander through devotional practices this second week of Lent, I found writings of <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Upstream-Selected-Essays-Mary-Oliver-ebook/dp/B01CDVCAUQ/ref=dp_kinlend_rdm_t?_encoding=UTF8&m=A38SEFUGZMJU8S" target="_blank">Mary Oliver</a> to read; <a href="http://www.dioceseofalgoma.com/UploadedFiles/file/LentandEasterPoetry.pdf" target="_blank">an Anglican website with a poem to read each day of Lent</a>; a couple of new daily emails to subscribe and enjoy; and, of course, my quotidian spiritual practices. Holding prayer beads I'm using for Lent as I did Centering Prayer each morning was especially precious.<br />
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My friend and I decided to live as simply as possible this trip--traveling less, eating out rarely, and not shopping except for groceries. It is Lent, after all. This morning, as we prepare to pack up, we'll eat whatever food we have left. The money we've saved will go to the<a href="https://tybeeisland.com/site/rising-tyde-community-food-pantry/" target="_blank"> local Tybee food bank</a> (we decided that a cash gift is probably a more useful for the ministry than going and buying groceries to donate).<br />
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We've let the light be our clock. We've allowed the rhythm of the day be our schedule. We've laughed a lot. <br />
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My Word for the week has been a line from Mary Oliver (<u>Evidence: Poems</u>):<br />
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-47330248923551154162017-03-17T10:43:00.002-05:002017-03-17T10:43:33.680-05:00Lenten Retreat: Slow Time on Tybee<div>
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One of the most frequent questions I've been asked this week is, "So what exciting plans do you have for today?"<br />
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My friend and I usually respond first with silence and then say something about walking on the beach or making cards or being quiet. The very kind folks usually follow up with a list of delightful suggestions of things we should do. I am grateful, but those kinds of activities haven't been what I've been looking for this trip.<br />
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I've been thinking about the need to <b><u>do</u></b> things. I have a job, which I love beyond words, that is full of things done, and more often, left undone. I am aware of how every choice I make has consequences, not only for me, but for a host of other people. I get a lot of feedback when those choices have unintended consequences, both positive and not so positive. It takes a lot of thought and even more prayer to go though each day as a priest.<br />
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These past eleven months I've had even more things done and left undone because of decisions about rebuilding the Rectory. I've gotten to a point that when friends ask me to make a choice, if it really isn't a big deal, I want <b>them</b> to make it (Which seat do you want? Where do you want to eat? Which movie shall we go see?). <br />
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On these five days on Tybee Island, number fourteen of what began as a vacation lo that many years back and has become an annual Lenten retreat, I find myself on slow time. I love not having the clock tell me when to get up and having no schedule to follow. My friend, who went through the flood, literally, with me, is going through her own healing process post-Tax Day Flood, and is in sync with floating through these days.<br />
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I've floated into new places this year. This morning instead of getting up to see the sunrise, I slept in. I was rewarded with flocks of birds in front of my cottage--herons, egrets, cardinals, and even bluebirds.<br />
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Yesterday, on our one, and most likely only trip off the Island until I fly home tomorrow, at breakfast at one of my favorite places in Savannah, <a href="http://backinthedaybakery.com/" target="_blank">Back in the Day Bakery,</a> while enjoying the most delicious breakfast biscuit I've ever eaten with a luscious, foamy cappuccino, a woman dressed in very simple clothes stopped on the street, and appeared to look longingly at us eating our fabulous upscale treats. After she began to walk away, on what I believe was a Holy Spirit nudge, I went out to offer to buy her breakfast. If she was hungry, how could I eat this extravagant meal? Alas, she was gone from view. <br />
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I looked out and saw several men on the corner, gathering because a <a href="http://www.oscm.org/" target="_blank">mission </a>that provided resources for them was across the street. How could I keep from sharing? As my friend and I left, a took a hundred dollar bill I keep hidden in my wallet for emergencies, and went inside and gave to <a href="http://www.oscm.org/" target="_blank">The Old Savanah City Mission.</a> #15 of the 24 Project. <br />
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After lovely pedicures at a spa in Savannah, my friend and I decided the other things we'd thought about doing--visiting an art museum, shopping at SCAD, lunch at a favorite local barbecue place-- were things that could be left undone. Largely, I'll admit, at her urging, we returned to the Island in time for the Thursday healing Eucharist.<br />
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I'm accomplishing what I think God has in store for me this retreat in Lent: time for my soul to catch up with my body. <br />
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-6877295099545484022017-03-15T20:29:00.000-05:002017-03-15T20:32:18.787-05:00Lenten Retreat: A cold winter day<div>
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I can forget that it's still winter, when my air conditioner has been running occasionally since January with Houston's too frequent eighty degree days. With a wind chill below thirty degrees here on Tybee Island this morning, it was a good day to be inside.<br />
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A lolling day was just what I needed. I didn't get up until nearly eight, and I spent the first hours of the morning reading and praying. <br />
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I had one project to work on while I am here. Women Touched by Grace is a program for women clergy of which I have been part--first as a participant, and then twice as a facilitator. Originated by a small group of women clergy in conjunction with the women religious of Our Lady of Grace Monastery, this ministry is a unique opportunity for women clergy to be in community and conversation with the sisters of the monastery.<br />
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The first three groups were funded through a generous grant from the Lilly Endowment. For the past two years, I have been part of a group of women who have been working to secure long term funding for the ministry. We have received ongoing financial pledges from all sixty-eight clergy women who have been part of Women Touched by Grace; we WTBG-ers, in turn, are inviting others to be part of a longterm financial effort called Circle of Grace. Earlier this year, the Lilly Endowment invited us to apply for a grant that would assist us in securing additional generous funding.<br />
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This morning was the time I'd set aside to write my part of the grant. I am passionate about supporting clergy, particularly women clergy, and it was a fine way to spend a part of my Lenten retreat.<br />
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The high winds ceased late this afternoon, and bundled up, a beach walk was finally possible. I've walked the beach on Tybee hundreds of times. It's not a spectacular beach, but it's a perfect place for a Lenten retreat.<br />
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I've loved the slow day. When my friend and I went to the local IGA after our walk for groceries, we saw that the local food bank is having a large distribution next week; we'll be going back to buy nonperishables to donate. <br />
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Tonight I funded number #8 of the 24 Project, my thank you gift for my twenty-four years of ordained ministry which I'm celebrating by giving twenty-four $100 gifts to ministries chosen by twenty-four folks who have joined me on my journey.<br />
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This time I gave in thanksgiving for my spiritual director, Sarah, a remarkable woman who has walked with me in both joyful and sorrowful times and has helped me stay on God's path. She asked that I give to <a href="https://www.lifehouston.org/" target="_blank">Life Houston</a>, an organization that provides food for infants. $100 feeds an infant for one month. <br />
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Full from a delicious dinner of local fish and chips, a pint of ice cream ready for me to enjoy, I am sobered by the local statistics on the Life Houston website: 26 percent of children in Harris County are food insecure, and Houston is second in the nation for food insecurity in children. God of enough, what would you have us do?<br />
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The sun is going down over the marsh. A freeze is expected tonight. I am once again aware of what a woman of great privilege I am. I am surrounded by beauty. I have a warm, safe place to sleep. I have more food than I need and an abundance of clean water. I have a suitcase full of clothes. I have people who love me and who pray for me and are there to offer support whenever I need it.<br />
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How does God call me to share God's warmth that pours from my heart?<br />
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-69396715404719435432017-03-14T08:11:00.002-05:002017-03-14T08:11:23.451-05:00Lenten Retreat: Receiving love. Loving others.<div>
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It's Tybee Time, again. For as many years as I can remember, I spend a few days each Lent in this sleepy, quiet beach town outside Savannah.<br />
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Up at 4 AM to catch the first flight out, my mind was still pondering last night's Vestry discussion. We watched the 5 Marks of Love video appointed for that day in Lent and responded to the question posed:<br />
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<i>How have you experienced God’s love? How does that experience inform how you love others?</i><br />
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As the Rectory nears completion after the flood eleven months ago, as I am surrounded by peace, care, and beauty, my heart overflows with God's love. As I drove to the airport, I could feel that love seeping out to those around me.<br />
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It started on the shuttle bus from the parking lot. I found myself praying for the folks traveling with me, and especially for the two dark-complected men who spoke to one another in Spanish. I wondered about them and the people they love--are they anxious or fearful about possible deportations? <br />
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My driver was especially gracious and helpful. He did little things to make that trip easier--found out when our flights were leaving so he could be sure that we got to our terminal on time; updating us about changes in the parking rules and how we could make things go more smoothly.<br />
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When I arrived at my terminal, as I gave the driver a little more generous tip than usual (it is Lent, after all), I thanked him for his service and complimented him on how well he did his job. He teared up and told me that his whole day had changed. Having experiencing God's love, loving others.<br />
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When I got to my gate, the flight was way overbooked. I am an anxious traveler (my growth edge with God, for sure). I told my friend who would be meeting me in Atlanta that there was no way that I would give up my seat.<br />
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Then the gate agent asked for volunteers. They were guaranteed a seat on the flight leaving an hour and a half later, with an upgrade, a voucher for food, and a credit for a future flight.<br />
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As if a hand was pushing me out of my seat, I was first in line to volunteer. I decided it had to be a God thing, and as folks who had been waiting for seats were given tickets, I wondered if there was someone who really, really, really needed to get to Atlanta, who was now able to go. I'll buy my friend a coffee in Atlanta with my food voucher to thank her for waiting an extra hour or two for our retreat to begin (thankfully, she hadn't left home yet). Having experienced God's love, loving others.<br />
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So I'm waiting a little to get started on my retreat. But maybe if my retreat is to be about having received love, then sharing that love in small and not so small ways, perhaps I've already begun.Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-4105452001834315952017-03-07T07:50:00.002-06:002017-03-07T07:50:58.300-06:00How can I keep from singing?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Sunday in Adult Christian Formation, one of our responses to the <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+3%3A++13--17&version=CEB&interface=print" target="_blank">Scripture</a> we read was to write a love letter to God.<br />
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I began my letter of love with words describing an image from the night just days short of eleven months ago when flood waters poured into my home. <br />
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A man I'd never met before and a man I consider a trusted friend kayaked, then walked, through the murky thigh high waters to rescue my best friend and me. As I sat safely in the kayak, being rowed to dry land by a man I didn't know, holding a zip lock bag with all the possessions that I knew for certain would make it to safety, I was full of peace that passed any understanding.<br />
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Floating on the quiet waters that filled my street, the night lit only by street lamps that were somehow miraculously still working, the stillness and the silence except for the sound of the oars, was a defining moment of God's love.<br />
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The days and weeks and now months that have passed have been the most challenging of my life. My life as rector of a parish with its own day to day joys, tasks, sorrows, and conflicts continued amidst the gutting and and throwing out and restoring and hauling as I redefined home. Grief, anger, joy, laughter, exhaustion, chaos, rest, and peace have measured my days. As I look back, now I begin to see God's love in each and every moment.<br />
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This morning's <a href="http://ssje.org/word/" target="_blank">Lenten devotional</a> quoted a familiar hymn, How Can I Keep from Singing.<br />
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<i>My life flows on in endless song;</i><br />
<i>above earth’s lamentation,</i><br />
<i>I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn</i><br />
<i>that hails a new creation.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Refrain: No storm can shake my inmost calm</i><br />
<i>while to that Rock I’m clinging.</i><br />
<i>Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,</i><br />
<i>how can I keep from singing?</i><br />
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As I did my morning prayer walk this first Tuesday in Lent, still in my temporary home, there was a visible sunrise for the first time in days. Completing the walk, I looked back on the way that I had traveled this morning. I noticed that the gravel path was full of puddles from the last few day's rain--little pools of flood waters. The spring green of new growth framed the road. All the morning birds were singing their hearts out. At the end of the path was a gentle, beautiful sunrise. <br />
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Another love letter to God. <br />
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How can I keep from singing?<br />
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<i>Through all the tumult and the strife,</i><br />
<i>I hear that music ringing.</i><br />
<i>It finds an echo in my soul.</i><br />
<i>How can I keep from singing? </i><br />
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<i>Refrain: </i><i>No storm can shake my inmost calm</i><br />
<i>while to that Rock I’m clinging.</i><br />
<i>Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,</i><br />
<i>how can I keep from singing?</i><br />
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<i>What though my joys and comforts die?</i><br />
<i>I know my Savior liveth.</i><br />
<i>What though the darkness gather round?</i><br />
<i>Songs in the night he giveth. </i><br />
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<i>The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,</i><br />
<i>a fountain ever springing!</i><br />
<i>All things are mine since I am his!</i><br />
<i>How can I keep from singing? </i><br />
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<i>Refrain: </i><i>No storm can shake my inmost calm</i><br />
<i>while to that Rock I’m clinging.</i><br />
<i>Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,</i><br />
<i>how can I keep from singing?</i>Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-46927002519052836502017-01-27T12:37:00.000-06:002017-01-27T12:37:08.301-06:00Epiphany in Taos: Not so Stray Hearts<div>
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I woke up in the middle night and had some pondering time. I was pondering the companions I have found traveling to New Mexico each year. Most, if not all, though people of faith, hope, and love, have no formal connection to a faith community. I'm not certain if any would say they follow Christ. Yet being with them, I find my own faith growing and being deeply enriched. They are always accepting of my faith journey and our conversations are rich.<br />
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Having begun the 24 Project here, I gave to organizations that might not have been on my own list yet each organization furthered God's good work.<br />
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<b>Project #4</b> was to Stray Hearts Animal Shelter. I'll be honest. I love animals, but for me, caring for animals is always second to providing for the needs of people. Yet I know that among God's first words to us in Scripture was a charge to care for all of creation. As I drove the streets of wintery Taos, handmade signs had been placed beside the road reminding folks to bring their animals in for nights that were sub-freezing temperatures.<br />
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I gave to Stray Hearts in honor of Pablo and Lydia, owners of The Coffee Apothecary. Pablo and Lydia opened our new favorite coffee place in Taos only five weeks ago. Not only do they brew the most delicious coffee in town (and some other places, too), what makes this our new favorite is the amazing hospitality. Smiles and warm personal greetings abound, and after your first visit, they<br />
remember your beverage of choice. We've come at least once each day of our stay.<br />
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My heart was moved to tell them about the 24 Project, and a request to give in their honor. What followed was an beautiful conversation the joy of giving.<br />
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Today is my last day in Taos. As we prepare to leave town, we stopped for coffee at the Apothecary. We were greeted by name, and Pablo and Lydia were so hoping to see us before we leave town. They<br />
gifted us with our final cappuccino and latte until the Epiphany trip next year.<br />
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For we've discovered a new rhythm. The quiet of January in Taos fits our travel style far better than the bustle of Advent. It's been a slow and good rest, with time for creativity, friends, and much laughter.<br />
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-3551111645972925622017-01-26T11:00:00.000-06:002017-01-26T11:00:37.443-06:00The Twenty Four Project: A beginning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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As part of my celebration of twenty four years of ordained priestly ministry, I decided to ask some folks who had been important on my journey during this Epiphany visit in Taos who I could support in thanksgiving for them. </div>
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<b>Number 2 </b>of the Twenty Four Project<b> </b>was to <a href="http://environmentnewmexico.org/" target="_blank">Environment New Mexico</a>.<br />
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I went to visit Bonnie, a massage therapist, with a gift for healing. Every year when my very best traveling friend and I come to Taos, her husband graciously pays for the gift of a massage. Bonnie has blessed me each year through her healing hands. </div>
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Environment New Mexico was the nonprofit Bonnie wanted me to support in her honor. This group works for clean water, clean air, and open spaces in New Mexico. As someone who has savored the blue skies and wide vistas of this beautiful state, I am delighted to be part of insuring this for future generations. </div>
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<b>Number Three </b>of the project was to the University of New Mexico's Education Program through the Harwood Museum. This program inspires Taos area youth to think creatively, particularly underserved children in a population that is 56% Hispanic or Latino and 8% Native American. As someone who is passionate about arts in education and providing excellent educational opportunities for those with less financial resources, I am very pleased to do this.<br />
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I gave to the Harwood's Education Program in honor of my friend, Abby. <a href="http://butterpieproductions.com/" target="_blank">Abby </a> is a local artist whose pottery holds the food I eat most everyday. After the flood, I would particularly select pieces of her pottery for my meals as a tangible sign of love and support. Abby personally knows the great value of arts education, and it is important to her that those opportunities be available for all children and youth. In a time when arts education is too often viewed as an add-on rather than an essential part of a core curriculum, I am grateful to share my abundance to insure funding for children and the arts. </div>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-48988204658420860912017-01-25T08:45:00.002-06:002017-01-25T08:50:49.859-06:00The Twenty Four Project<div>
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This is one of those days when I can walk through the hours and know exactly where I was twenty four years ago today.<br />
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It was an unseasonably cold day in Houston, and I was surrounded by many of the people I loved. I was preparing to be ordained priest in Christ's one holy catholic apostolic Church.<br />
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I have received so much more than I could begin to give since I've been ordained. As I went to sleep last night, like an opening montage at the Academy Awards, images of the richness of my experiences these past twenty four years and the people who have invited me to walk with them on their spiritual journies danced through my prayers.<br />
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To celebrate those twenty four years of blessings I'm going to create the Twenty Four Project. I've set aside $2400 from my discretionary fund to use as needed to give to twenty four organizations and ministries as the Spirit leads.<br />
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To begin my day, I made a commitment to knit prayer shawls for Native American elders. Joy Moody, at Lupine Fiber Arts in Maine, started this project after learning that Native elders were literally freezing to death during the winter on our American reservations because of insufficient heat, indoor plumbing, or adequate shelter.<br />
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One of the practices my very best traveling friend and I have is to support local outreach ministries in the places we visit. From The Isle of Iona to Tybee Island, Georgia, we've found great joy, and yes, fun, thinking of creative ways to share our abundance.<br />
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I can think of no better way to dance and sing my Epiphany in New Mexico.<br />
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-91427794049829632292017-01-24T17:09:00.001-06:002017-01-24T17:09:30.724-06:00Epiphany in New Mexico<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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My annual Advent rest in New Mexico has become an Epiphany journey to New Mexico this year. One thing and another has made this the season to come for my annual trip. It is part of discovering new rhythms on my life pilgrimage.<br />
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I'm finding myself deeply pondering and needing more time for contemplation than usual as I search to find words for where my heart is. As I move towards the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordination and two decades serving as Rector of St. Mary's, I am full of thought. <br />
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Last night, my very best traveling friend and I went to see <u>Hidden Figures</u>, an outstanding film about courageous women of color who made a significant difference by addressing issues of racism, education, and human rights through their everyday jobs.<br />
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I was particularly mindful as I watched of those cultural practices portrayed in <u>Hidden Figures </u> that are now unacceptable yet were all too common in the 1960's. People bravely stood up and said, one by one, in small and not so small ways, that issues of basic justice were at stake. <br />
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What issues of justice and peace am <u>I</u> called to say, enough? On my heart are the many ways that we do not respect the dignity of every living person particularly through the words we choose to use and through the availability of health care, education, and food. How do I share the abundance I have received?<br />
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In <u>Hidden Figures</u>, the women were nourished by their faith communities (and lots of "thank you Jesus-es"), shared meals, laughter, music, and dancing. I'm reminded of a Zimbabwe saying:<br />
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<i>If you can walk, you can dance. If yo</i><i>u can talk, you can sing. </i><br />
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As I rest and sing and dance in snowy Taos, I expect I'll return home with clearer discernment.<br />
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-11132952309892922812016-12-22T10:30:00.000-06:002016-12-22T10:30:11.248-06:00The Sixth Day of the O Antiphons: O Come, Desire of Nations, Come<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>O come, Desire of nations, come</i></div>
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<i>Bind in one the hearts of all mankind,</i></div>
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<i>Bid thou our sad divisions cease,</i></div>
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<i>And be thyself our King of Peace.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emmaneul shall come to thee, O Israel!</i></div>
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Syria. Sudan. Christmas Market in Berlin, Germany. Bombing during worship at St. Mark's Coptic Orthodox Cathedral in Cairo, Egypt.</div>
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Each day of this final week of Advent, a tragedy has lit up the news. It seems particularly fitting that today we pray as we sing:<br />
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<i>Please, please God: Come as King of Peace,</i><br />
<i>Please, please God: End our sad divisions, </i><br />
<i>Please, please God: Bind us into one heart. </i><br />
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If we believe that all of this is God's will, and I do, why doesn't God say yes? The truth is perhaps that it's not that God isn't saying yes, but that we say no. </div>
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I've been thinking and praying about how to respond in a meaningful way to each of the many ways that we say no to God's perfect will. The past two days I've heard the same answer through conversations with women whom I respect greatly, and so today I share it with you.</div>
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If we do indeed believe that God is ultimately Love--fully, completely, perfectly, then it seems that every time we share God's love with others that we become part of God's yes. If my small, though not truly small, act of love, incarnates God's love, and then that love incarnates another act of love in someone else, and then another, and then another.........would the impossible become possible, one act of love at a time?</div>
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Could my sharing of love through some act with a person in Spring, Texas, actually travel eventually to acts of love in Aleppo and Cairo and Berlin and Moscow and Tehran? When I recall that the love I share found it's way to me by a 2000 year journey from Bethlehem in Palestine, I know that the impossible is possible with God.</div>
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How will God come to you today? </div>
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Will it be by sharing God's love with someone who may not even know that he or she needs it?</div>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-9997691755513453182016-12-21T19:14:00.002-06:002016-12-21T19:14:39.693-06:00The Fifth Day of the O Antphons: O Come, Thou Dayspring from on High<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>O Come, thou Dayspring from on high,</i></div>
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<i>And cheer us by the drawing nigh;</i></div>
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<i>Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,</i></div>
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<i>And death's dark shadow put to flight.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel shall come to thee, </i></div>
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<i>O Israel.</i></div>
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Today is the shortest day of the year. Tonight is the longest night of the year. It is especially holy that today we sing about Christ, the Dayspring, and the promise of bringing light to the darkest places of our lives.</div>
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In Houston, our shortest days are not that short nor our longest days all that long. However, when I was in Iceland in May, the only challenge for me was that even though there was a supposed sunset in the middle of the time we call night, it never really got dark; it was always light. Hotel rooms in Iceland were rated by travelers by how well the curtains would darken the room at night for sleep. <br />
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Today in Reykjavik, the sun rises at 11.30 in the morning and the sun sets at 3.30 in the afternoon; however, those four hours in the sun are actually full of darkness. The shortest day of the year in some places in our world may never have any apparent sun light.<br />
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On this winter solstice, we sing of the Light of the Son that goes into the darkest places of our lives and hearts. For some of us this Advent, our darkest place is the fear and grief of the separation of death. In our hymn, we pray as we sing that Emmanuel, God is with us, even there, especially there.<br />
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Once again, we sing that in Christ there is no darkness at all, the night and the day, life and death, are both alike in him.<br />
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How will Christ's light come to you today? <br />
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Today we are invited as we sing to look for Christ in our very darkest moment.</div>
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-69640821661564779232016-12-20T15:23:00.001-06:002016-12-20T15:23:09.467-06:00Fourth Day of the O Antiphons: O Come, thou Key of David, Come<div style="text-align: left;">
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At St. Mary's at nine o'clock this morning, three of us gathered to pray Morning Prayer. We lit three blue and one pink candle on the Advent wreath, and sat to listen and knelt to pray. <br />
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After hearing the lesson from the First Testament appointed for the Tuesday in the fourth week of Advent, we sang and prayed:</div>
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<i>O come, thou Key of David, come</i></div>
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<i>And open wide our heavenly home;</i></div>
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<i>Make safe the way that leads on high,</i></div>
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<i>And close the path to misery.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emanuel shall come to thee,</i></div>
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<i>O Israel.</i></div>
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My soul proclaims your greatness, O God; </div>
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My spirit rejoices in you, my Savior, </div>
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For you have looked with favor on your lowly servant.</div>
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From this day all generations will call me blessed; </div>
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You, the Almighty, have done great things for me,</div>
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and holy is your Name.</div>
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You have mercy on those who fear you</div>
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from generation to generation.</div>
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You, O God, have shown strength with your arm, </div>
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And scattered the proud in their conceit,</div>
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Casting down the mighty from their thrones</div>
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and lifting up the lowly.</div>
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You have filled the hungry with good things</div>
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and sent the rich away empty.</div>
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You have come to the help of your servant Israel, </div>
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For you have remembered your promise of mercy,</div>
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The promise made to our forebears, </div>
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to Abraham, Sarah and their children for ever.</div>
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<i>O come, thou Key of David, come</i></div>
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<i>And open wide our heavenly home;</i></div>
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<i>Make safe the way that leads on high,</i></div>
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<i>And close the path to misery.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emanuel shall come to thee,</i></div>
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<i>O Israel.</i></div>
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We were using the translation of the Song of Mary provided from the breviary of the <a href="http://osh.org/" target="_blank">Order of Saint Helena</a>, an Episcopal religious community for women (yep, Episcopal nuns). I love this translation of the Magnificat because it has been reframed to make it a prayer, using the second person pronoun to address God, rather than the third. This also opens our hearts for God to be gender neutral and expands the possibility of the mystery of God. I believe that singing is a way to pray, and rephrasing the Song of Mary to make it a more intentional prayer is helpful as we listen to God's answer to our question for this fourth week of Advent:</div>
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How is God coming to us today?</div>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-90242247357326222362016-12-19T08:04:00.001-06:002016-12-19T08:04:33.944-06:00The Third Day of the O Antiphons: O Come, thou Branch of Jesse's Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>O come, thou Branch of Jesse's Tree,</i></div>
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<i>Free them from Satan's tyranny,</i></div>
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<i>That trust the mighty power to save,</i></div>
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<i>And give them victory o'er the grave.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel shall come to thee, </i><i>O Israel!</i></div>
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I can recall the first time I ever learned about the Jesse Tree. It was early days in my walk in the Episcopal Church, and I was learning about the difference between Advent and Christmas. At St. Cuthbert, when it is was still housed in temporary metal buildings near Bear Creek, during Advent we created Jesse Tree ornaments tracing the lineage of Jesus through the Hebrew Scripture.<br />
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O Come, O Come Emmanuel, is also a journey through the Scripture Jesus would have known, read, studied, and loved. Each verse has ties to the First Testament, and if those passages were important enough for Jesus to know, read, study, and love, they are for us, too.<br />
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Jesse's Tree in the hymn connects Jesus to his ancestors, those cloud of witnesses that were part of who he became. Ruth married Boaz, and they had a son named Obed. Obed had a son named Jesse, and one of Jesse's sons was David, who became King and was the fixed hope of the Jews for the coming Messiah, who Jesus is.<br />
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At this time of year, most, if not all of us, feel connections to those we love and see no more. For some, this grief is still so sharp that this season brings more pain than joy. We sing today, as the antiphon for Mary's song of the world being turned right side up again by the son she will bear, that we carry our sorrows, but not as those who have no hope. Today as we sing, we pray for the trust to know that in God there are no longer graves but a new birth and a life after we die. For some, this may be at best a small comfort, but it is truth.<br />
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So we have the courage to sing:<br />
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice.</i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel: God is with us.</i></div>
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<i>Israel: God prevails.</i></div>
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Always.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My grandson, Austin Jack, at the grave of his great grandfather, Austin Jack Jernigan.</span></div>
Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-47449611146132094622016-12-17T21:23:00.001-06:002016-12-18T09:08:03.953-06:00Second Day of the O Antiphons: O Come, Thou Lord of Might<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How will God come to us? </div>
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At St. Mary's today we will offer this question as an oblation, a prayer that offers our lives to God, especially each day this final week of Advent.</div>
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As we listen for the answer, we are invited to sing the O Antiphon appointed for the day. Today we will sing the verse for December 18, verse 4, before and after praying Mary's Song.</div>
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<i>O come, O come, thou Lord of Might,</i></div>
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<i>Who to thy tribes on Sinai's height</i></div>
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<i>In ancient times didst give the law,</i></div>
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<i>In cloud, and majesty, and awe.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.</i></div>
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My soul proclaims your greatness, O God; </div>
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My spirit rejoices in you, my Savior, </div>
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For you have looked with favor on your lowly servant.</div>
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From this day all generations will call me blessed; </div>
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You, the Almighty, have done great things for me, and holy is your Name.</div>
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You have mercy on those who fear you from generation to generation.</div>
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You, O God, have shown strength with your arm, </div>
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And scattered the proud in their conceit,</div>
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Casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly.</div>
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You have filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.</div>
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You have come to the help of your servant Israel, </div>
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For you have remembered your promise of mercy,</div>
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The promise made to our forebears, to Abraham, Sarah and their children for ever.</div>
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<i>O come, O come, thou Lord of Might,</i></div>
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<i>Who to thy tribes on Sinai's height</i></div>
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<i>In ancient times didst give the law,</i></div>
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<i>In cloud, and majesty, and awe.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice!</i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.</i></div>
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Rejoice! Rejoice! </div>
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Emmanuel, that is, God is with us.</div>
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Israel, that is, God prevails.</div>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-28709350141055810292016-12-17T14:44:00.000-06:002016-12-17T14:45:30.358-06:00The First Day of the O Antiphons: O Come thou Wisdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'd never paid attention to the O Antiphons until I read Kathleen Norris' account in <u>The Cloister Walk</u> of searching during Advent for a place to hear them sung. <br>
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How could I have missed this? The most common hymn we sing during Advent is Hymn 56, "O come, O come Emanuel." And there, beginning for December 17, clearly beside each verse, a date is clearly written, as well as rubrics at the bottom, <i>The stanzas may be used as antiphons with "The Song of Mary" on dates given.</i><br>
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Since the passage we are hearing from Isaiah tomorrow for the Fourth Sunday of Advent contains these words: <i>Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel (</i>Isaiah 7.14), and the Gospel being like unto it: <i>Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel (</i>Matthew 1. 23), I've spent some time this week thinking about Emmanuel (the spelling from the Greek) and Immanuel (from the Hebrew)--both meaning <i>God with us.</i><br>
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One author I read said that in her parish a question was posed the last week of Advent in response to this hymn: <i>How will He come to us?</i><br>
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I believe we have a gift this final week of Advent. Beginning today, we can ask each day in prayer: <i>If God is indeed with us, how will Jesus come to us today? </i>The answer is found in singing a verse from the hymn appointed for that very day.<br>
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Today our verse is this: <br>
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<i>O Come, thou Wisdom from on on high,</i></div>
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<i>Who orders all things mightily;</i></div>
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<i>To us the path of knowledge show,</i></div>
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<i>And teach us in her ways to go.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice! </i></div>
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<i>Emmanuel shall come to, O Israel.</i></div>
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As a note, Israel, besides being the name of a country, besides being the name of Isaac's son who was also named Jacob, Israel literally means <i>may God prevail. </i></div>
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So we are invited to sing this last week of Advent, in these final days of preparation for the Incarnation: </div>
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<i>Rejoice. Rejoice. </i></div>
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<i>God with us</i></div>
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<i> shall come to us</i></div>
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<i> O may God prevail.</i></div>
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<br>Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-920724311483825912016-11-09T09:49:00.001-06:002016-11-09T09:49:48.519-06:00Thoughts the morning after the election<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I went out for my morning walk this morning, it was gray and drizzly. My street was full of trash, and as I looked down the road towards the neighborhood school, I saw leftover campaign signs from yesterday's election.<br />
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Sleep deprived as many, if not most Americans are this morning, the weather and the view on my street matched how I was feeling. Gloomy. Surrounded by garbage.<br />
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So I did my walking prayer. Thoughts rose to God: My anger and frustration that my home, the Rectory, seven months after the Tax Day Flood, had not yet commenced its restoration. My sadness for all people who are angry and afraid of what the future holds for them. I beseeched God for the strength, God's Strength alone, to help me lead the community entrusted to me to be instruments of reconciliation, peace, and Gospel living. <br />
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I prayed for our newly elected leaders and for all of those who had the courage to put themselves forth with unbelievable vulnerability and were not elected.<br />
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When I returned to my becoming less and less temporary home, I went indoors and put on my work gloves. I grabbed a trash bag and went back to the street. I picked up soiled sacks of MacDonald's waste, a Lone Star beer can, dirty napkins, a spent bottle rocket, and an empty Vodka bottle.<br />
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And I wrote a note to our newly elected president in my head:<br />
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<i>Sir, you have vowed to unify our broken nation in your acceptance speech this morning.</i><br />
<i>As I write this, the majority of our American citizens who voted yesterday did not vote for you. Please know they will hold you to this early morning promise.</i><br />
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<i>Meanwhile, this one chick priest is already picking up the trash and will continue to work for a country where we strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of human being.</i><br />
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<i>No exceptions. </i><br />
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<br />Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-91929853393205732892016-11-07T11:06:00.001-06:002016-11-07T11:08:02.961-06:00Prayers of the Saints on the Eve of the Election<br>
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I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately. He died in 2008, and the last person he ever voted for was Hillary Clinton in the 2008 Democratic Presidential Primary. <br>
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My dad was a lifelong Southern Baptist. He was a deacon in the Baptist Church, and at least two of his pastors wrote of him in their books; their words were about how he had inspired their own spiritual journeys.<br>
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One of his tasks the last year of his life was to read the Koran in its entirety. He could no longer easily hold a book, so he sat at his computer each morning and read chapters from the Koran, in addition to the Bible, as part of his morning discipline. Daddy was curious and wanted to understand folks who believed differently from him, so he read and he listened.<br>
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Daddy was a clinical psychologist, spending much of his professional career serving veterans as Chief of Psychological Services at Veterans Hospital in Dallas. A president of Texas Psychological Association, he was nationally respected. <br>
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Daddy led an effort in Texas to require that psychologists be accredited. Before this effort, any person could simply claim to be a psychologist and take clients, whether they had had proper preparation and training, or not. He had seen the deep damage that poorly educated therapists could inflict on those who were the most vulnerable, and he was an instrument of change.<br>
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In this election season, I've been wanting to talk with my dad. As both a Christian and a psychologist, he always had interesting insights into the people who served in government and those who put themselves forth as candidates. He had a gift of wisdom that clarified.<br>
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I've wondered what he would say about Secretary Clinton and Mr. Trump. I know that he would have been respectful, because that was a value he held. Daddy would have had some sage insights about their personal motivations. He would have helped me understand the anger and fear of the American public, and would have offered me wise counsel about how I could be an instrument of God's reconciliation and peace. <br>
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In this season of All Saints, I am especially aware of the prayers in heaven of all of those we love and see no longer. I have a keen sense of my dad's prayers for all of us. That includes his prayers for Mr. Trump and Secretary Clinton. A veteran of World War II, I know how much he loved our country. <br>
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When I voted last week, as I made my selections, I thought of my dad. I miss him so much. I'm grateful he's praying.<br>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-22934607604843611252016-10-17T09:10:00.001-05:002016-10-17T09:11:12.521-05:00On my way with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Tuesday I received an urgent call at the office from a parishioner. His wife, who had had life-threatening complications following heart surgery, had taken a turn for the worse. Could I come and bring her communion and pray with her?<br>
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Of course I would. Before I left, the staff circled around me and prayed, and I got in the car to drive to the hospital. I was half way there when another call came in. It was the wife of a sweet man who attended worship from time to time at St. Mary's. He had just died--could I come and pray? <br>
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After offering her words of care, I told her our curate could come immediately, and before I had arrived at the hospital to see one parishioner, Alan was on his way to be with another.<br>
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It was that kind of day.<br>
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It's been that kind of year.<br>
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Friday I was on my way to meet with the contractor who is hoping to begin work very soon to restore the Rectory, my Tax Day flooded, now gutted, home. I had a little extra time before we were to get together, and I stopped at Starbuck's for a bite of lunch and to check emails. In my inbox there was a particularly negative email that left me feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach. I'm actually pretty good at not letting those type of words have any lasting effect, but this was the latest in a series of less than helpful emails from a person who is supposed to be helping me negotiate the rebuilding of my life after the flood. I allowed the unkind email to color the rest of the afternoon and evening.<br>
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It was that kind of day.<br>
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It's been that kind of year.<br>
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On Saturday I was cooking, and I cut my hand grating some cheese. We've all had one of those small cuts that bleed and bleed, and then open up and bleed again every time you accidentally hit it. I knew that this could be a problem when celebrating Eucharist the next day (not wanted to bleed into the Blood of Christ), so I went looking for bandaids.<br>
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The thing about losing most everything below waist level in your home is that you keep discovering ordinary things that you no longer have. Thankfully, I had remembered this before my grandson came to visit in July, and I had made sure that I had basic first aid items in supply for the cuts and injuries of a five year old boy.<br>
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That meant on Saturday that the only bandaids I had were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bandaids. As I put a green bandaid with a ninja turtle over my cut, I had to smile. Good memories of my grandson's visit surrounded my heart. It also felt good to have a symbol of power (be it a cartoon figure) pop up in sight each time I used my hand.<br>
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I celebrated Eucharist on Sunday with a liturgically correct colored Ninja Turtle bandaid. The sorrow in my heart, the grief in my spirit, got a little abated by the silly bandage each time it came into view.<br>
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That bandage represented the many more kind and caring words that I receive from parishioners and friends and families and even perfect strangers. That bandage represented that most cuts and hurts, cared for, heal. That bandage is a reminder of how God's (not so) small gifts of joy can be a raft in a flood of tears. That bandage reminded me that with God, I have all the Power I need to face any challenges that pop up on the Way. <br>
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<br>Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-9763233941008281672016-09-27T13:02:00.001-05:002016-09-27T13:02:57.616-05:00State of Grace: Sharing a birthday with Judah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday was my birthday. My best friend had flown into town on Saturday so we could take a road trip to Marfa to celebrate. God had a different road trip in store for us.<br>
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A member of the parish, Judah, age three, drowned during a family cookout on Saturday night. After much heroic effort, professionals were able to restore his heartbeat. Our curate, Alan, and I spent Saturday evening and early into Sunday morning with the family as the medical professionals stabilized Judah. Sunday, Russ, our deacon, was with the Browns while Alan and I walked this hard road with our parish family back at St. Mary's.<br>
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Monday, my birthday, my friend and I were up before dawn to drive to the Medical Center. God gave us a beautiful sunrise for the nearly two hour drive into town with the other early morning commuters. A stop for coffee on the way was blessed by a birthday call from my mother.<br>
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My friend spent most of the day in the PICU waiting area, listening to family members, fetching food, and being a pastoral presence. God used her skills as a hospice volunteer to provide unexpected, unplanned care. This was not the trip she'd planned for this Monday, but this was the trip God had placed her on, and Ginny was beyond gracious.<br>
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I spent my birthday mostly in the PICU with Judah. I sang and prayed with him, and felt a cloud of witnesses who had gone before us surround us in the room. In particular, I was aware of the praying presence of Jamie and Andy, two other young people from St. Mary's who had died before we were ready.<br>
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Conversations with medical personnel, with family, and with Judah as he prepared to die were the most holy way I could have ever shared this day. Time and again, God put me in the path of the right people to gather and to provide information, to pray, and to offer unexpected ways of support and to offer God's care. <br>
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When the time came late in the day to make the kind of decisions no parent ever should have to make, I was ready to offer all my years of living to this family. The words <i>holy, holy, holy</i> kept whispering in my ear.<br>
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After it appeared things were in a stable place, I left to have dinner and to travel home for the night. My friend had found a restaurant to celebrate my birthday near the Medical Center with the lovely name, State of Grace. Because we were between meal times, we sat at the bar and ate food that cannot be aptly called bar food--a feast of sumptuous smallish plates. <br>
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Drinking club soda in preparation for the long drive home, we began a conversation with our server, Ed. As we told him the story of my unexpected birthday with Judah and his family, he gave us words of good wishes. Then he poured me a large flute of champagne, and as he served me, he said, "I'm not done with you yet!" He said he would be bringing us dessert, and then offered us cappuccinos. Turns out Ed didn't bring us one but two different desserts. I don't know when I've enjoyed a birthday dinner more, which included receiving a hilarious text from our bishop. I was truly in a State of Grace.<br>
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My friend and I were on our way to walk a labyrinth to wait for the traffic to clear when we had a call asking us to return to the hospital. The final tests would be completed that evening to determine whether or not Judah was dead, and clergy presence would be helpful. <br>
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So with prayers for energy, we returned once again to the Medical Center. I was there to support the family and friends holding vigil in the lobby, and to encourage their own self care during this time. Then our bishop arrived for a visit, and we were at Judah's bedside finishing our prayers when the medical personnel told us the test results--Judah's brain was no longer alive. <br>
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We stayed as the family processed and began to plan the next part of Judah's life journey--deciding to give whatever tissue and organs possible to other folks so that their lives could go on, and their family and friends would have the gift of hope and joy. <br>
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Eighteen hours after I had awakened on my birthday and begun this state of grace, I got in the car to drive home. <br>
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When I awoke this morning, grateful for the birthday God had given me, and one I would never ever planned, I realized that there was yet one more birthday the day before. I now shared a birthday with Judah. <br>
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In the Christian faith, we have three birthdays: <br>
The day that we are born into this world. <br>
The day that we are baptized and born into the family of God.<br>
The day that we die, and are born into eternal life. That third day is the day that we become saints in God's kingdom. September 26 is now St. Judah's day.<br>
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With a heart full of sadness, I celebrate your day, Judah. You are in the truest State of Grace.</div>
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Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-76561516875935350692016-09-02T15:15:00.001-05:002016-09-02T18:32:06.721-05:00My heart is the cross<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EKt0ThkO8s4/V8ngAM545jI/AAAAAAAADd8/dOXazwXvhMc/s640/blogger-image-1453185427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EKt0ThkO8s4/V8ngAM545jI/AAAAAAAADd8/dOXazwXvhMc/s640/blogger-image-1453185427.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Tomorrow I travel back to Houston. Flying, not walking. </span></div><div><div><br></div><div>While on retreat, August became September, and in the Georgia mountains I saw the first tiny glimpses of fall. Today Hurricaine Hermine brought cloudy skies and cooler temperatures, and I wore longer pants and an extra layer when I walked. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uYX1WYgzVfE/V8ngD0gWP3I/AAAAAAAADeA/e3oJTuucJD0/s640/blogger-image-864465127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uYX1WYgzVfE/V8ngD0gWP3I/AAAAAAAADeA/e3oJTuucJD0/s640/blogger-image-864465127.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>The gift of delicious food prepared for me from local ingredients in a beautiful setting has been spiritually nourishing. The meals with friends always included good conversation and laughter. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v0-T7QudMw8/V8ngKpXiH7I/AAAAAAAADeM/5RqBOO52YPg/s640/blogger-image-764036791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v0-T7QudMw8/V8ngKpXiH7I/AAAAAAAADeM/5RqBOO52YPg/s640/blogger-image-764036791.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Sitting amidst the trees on the porch to write, to read, to pray, and to knit (and eat those meals with my friends) has been a place of peace. I've felt creative ideas bubble up; the good ones will remain, and perhaps bear fruit. </div><div><br></div><div>On the morning walk along the Tallulah River today, we played <i>In My Heart is the Road</i> and did our prayer dance. This afternoon, after a stop at Osage Market for peaches, we walked a labyrinth at the bottom of the ridge at yet another <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Presbyterian Church, this one in Wylie, Georgia. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PTSHNbliMCc/V8ngIbXqyoI/AAAAAAAADeI/XQrNrbTy_gw/s640/blogger-image--1751522544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PTSHNbliMCc/V8ngIbXqyoI/AAAAAAAADeI/XQrNrbTy_gw/s640/blogger-image--1751522544.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This labyrinth overlooks the highway, and I walked the moss--covered path as trucks and cars raced by down below. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This path has surprises of rocks and crosses and acorns and green plants and strange mosses. The labyrinth is built on the slant of the earth, and my steps were a series of ups and downs. </span></div></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">When I got to the center, I created a cross from twigs that scattered the pathway. As I placed my simple cross on the center rock, I prayed. I was reminded that what the </font><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">cross means for me is to offer my whole self to God. That's what Jesus did: offer every bit of himself to God. Our lives, and how we choose to give them to God, are the cross. </span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">As I walked back from the center, each step was a prayer for all the other cross walkers in my life. When I returned to the entrance to the labyrinth, a brisk breeze began to blow. My head told me it was the very edges of the hurricaine. My heart told me it was a blessing from God. </font></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oCCJSgnb3P8/V8ngGJMK0DI/AAAAAAAADeE/pmT83e7QYrY/s640/blogger-image--1954157788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oCCJSgnb3P8/V8ngGJMK0DI/AAAAAAAADeE/pmT83e7QYrY/s640/blogger-image--1954157788.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div>Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820719999543092128.post-38669888451975166672016-09-01T13:34:00.001-05:002016-09-01T14:41:44.425-05:00Walking a retreat: In my heart is the road<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uSWCdnGl6Kc/V8h2NDmClOI/AAAAAAAADdE/O280js20zq0/s640/blogger-image--1020938127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uSWCdnGl6Kc/V8h2NDmClOI/AAAAAAAADdE/O280js20zq0/s640/blogger-image--1020938127.jpg"></a></div><br></div>In my quiet on the porch during this mountain retreat, I'm continuing to spend time slowly moving through Christine Valters Paintner's, <i>The Soul's Slow Ripening: Celtic Wisdom for Discernment</i>. Todays's reflection was the invitation to dance with Betsey Beckman. <div><br></div><div>I'll be honest. Though I enjoy dancing, the day on this retreat that I have to watch one video, take time to learn a dance that is a movement prayer, and then do the dance is the one I find most challenging. I always feel closer to my spiritual self afterwards, but it's a real journey to get there. Hmmm. Not such a bad thing. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, today the video was filmed at a retreat center in New Mexico, and since that's a place that is part of my rhythm of annual travel, it felt like home. Then, Betsey's instructions were simply to let the music guide your feet as you listened to the song provided--doing it once contemplatively, and the other playfully. </div><div><br></div><div>I downloaded the song by Richard Bruxwoort Colligan to my phone. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The words were inspired by Psalm 84:</span></div><div><br></div><div><i>In my heart is the road</i></div><div><i>And I will not be turned</i></div><div><i>In my heart is the road</i></div><div><i>Bless my feet on the journey</i></div><div><i>To Jerusalem, to Jerusalem. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>On the river walk today, my friend and I played the music and danced the Psalm. </div><div>Yes, in a public place. We were filled with joy as we let our feet do the praying. Playing and praying. They are good spiritual companions. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_jH47ZdpfD0/V8h7RXCbjKI/AAAAAAAADdo/WoGlizBacGk/s640/blogger-image--235672679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_jH47ZdpfD0/V8h7RXCbjKI/AAAAAAAADdo/WoGlizBacGk/s640/blogger-image--235672679.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div><br></div><div>When I began my retreat this week, I didn't imagine that taking steps would be a central theme. But beginning at the airport in Houston when I walked between terminals because I had extra time, and happened on a surprise sunrise riding down an escalator; to the labyrinths of recycled glass, an Eagle Scout project, and hidden crosses; to an invitation to dance; I've been praying through my feet. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1h84AU1p2KY/V8h7TZEZUhI/AAAAAAAADds/ieVHrS7QUTE/s640/blogger-image--1702689130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1h84AU1p2KY/V8h7TZEZUhI/AAAAAAAADds/ieVHrS7QUTE/s640/blogger-image--1702689130.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>I'm walking on holy ground. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-85-WKvWaJjQ/V8h3VAgbPRI/AAAAAAAADdQ/nsD6e4dnZBk/s640/blogger-image--77748144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-85-WKvWaJjQ/V8h3VAgbPRI/AAAAAAAADdQ/nsD6e4dnZBk/s640/blogger-image--77748144.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Revdbethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10223624569382233288noreply@blogger.com1