"The heart has reasons that reason does not understand" - Pascal

There is an odd clarity about a phone ringing in the middle of the night. Caught in the middle of a dream adrenaline wakes up the heart first. There is a stumbling realization that something urgent is happening to someone. For me there is a moment of fumbling for the phone, the light, a hand, some context my mind has not yet found its way to remembering. In the moment before the voice is heard and recognized, before I am drawn into what ever reality awaits, it is my heart that awakens and draws me forward into life. The clarity that exists in the moment of the ringing is not what or why or even how it is the simple knowledge that my presence is needed.

Over the years I have gotten the kind of calls you might expect in the middle of the night, a baby born, a hospital emergency, a mis-dialed number, and a traveler unable to calculate time differences in their excitement or boredom. All different situations but each one resulted in the same initial reaction, my heart filled with a response to life - I am here. I often forget until the middle of the night it is your heart that will call my heart to respond. It is your heart that I will remember and cherish. As words and memories and even language evade me it is your heart that holds onto mine.

As we move into this season of holiday's when so many greetings and gatherings occur I find my heart filled with gratitude for this community as a place to remember the kindness of a world where heart is more important than head. Thank you for reminding me and for allowing me to remember. I wish for you many precious moments, joy remembered in bittersweet times and safe travels to all who are leaving home to greet hearts far way.

As Fall

Ah fall, crunching sounds, musky smells, and leaves bursting forth into a brilliance of flame just outside my window. In the last weeks a feast for every sense has awakened with an almost gaudy flourish. I love this time of year. It is filled for me with wonder and the play of light. I can hardly believe that in the hurried tempo of life I have once again missed the opportunity to take a daily fall picture to catalogue this event. I want these pictures because I believe there is a deeper truth in this yearly event. A truth that I often wish I would remember for my own life throughout the year. Fall reminds me that as nature lets go it takes this last chance to expose all of its hidden colors and glory. The green chlorophyll that has dominated dies off and suddenly all the supportive elements shine through. In this display of letting go I can see that those supportive elements are just as brilliant.

There are things in my life that I know I have come to rely on simply working. Things to which I do not pay too much attention. I trust gmail to manage my calendar and email. I rest in long term friendships and familial connections. I even rely on the quick smiles and generous natures of those around me to engage. These are the reds, yellows, russets and orange that support my work in service to ministry. As a continual student, ministry is what I hope is the dominant green of my life, but fall reminds me that these other brilliance's must be tended, enjoyed and acknowledged for their support. This is a shout out to everyone who has supported me thus far along the road of life. It is also a fall like reminder to let the brilliant colors of life shine through.

Post 49: What is ministry

If call is to grapple with what I believe, to understand to whom I am responsible and to tug at what I serve than ministry must be defined.

Ministry at it's core, for me, is the willingness of a person to hold onto the hope, joy, creation, love, and the holy in the midst of life, everyday. Sometimes those moments are for yourself and the great whatever, sometimes they are for a gathering, sometimes they are held onto in the midst of a struggle to remember possibility when others are drowning in the fears of life, ... Holiness is what you are aware of and ministry is what you bring forward because of that awareness.

Day 48 - dreary before creation

I am tired of being clever - tired of trying to impress
What if I simply brought myself for today

A child of the holy I call g-d, no more and no less

Even though I am dreary before this stunning creation
I am still accepting, still remembering
     I am yours
     I am your creation
     I am your face becoming
     I am the edge of all that is and all that is yet to be

that seems like it could be enough.

Post 47: to be vulnerable

What does it mean to take risks? To be vulnerable and open to failure? Are there ways to measure this dance I make with my soul through this bending of time? What is gained or lost by not trying?

Sweeping up the floor I
look not at the brooms movement
But wonder at the swirl of dust caught in the light

Is that part of me or you
 or the plant on the shelf we always forget to water
The beauty of this spark reminding me of life and air

 I clean constantly not on one day
but throughout the week
On knees weeping with the weight of my overly fed body
I catch the hair in the corner

and wipe the stains of water from a mirror
Like tears, the drops formed from steam
Too much to release through the open door

It collects and reminds me of warmth and letting go
Does life always turn like this
Seeing in through the edges

Post 46: Where is the embodiment of our founding fathers intentions? - Furlough

Government Shut Down

For those people I know, and those I do not, who have been furloughed - life has happened to you. Someone else made a “decision” and your lives where changed. I am outraged and I am utterly perplexed by elected officials who are moving our country, my country, so far away from the intentions set by our founders. 

Here is how I see it:
The folks that have been furloughed are people who work for agencies that do not directly “protect” this country – instead they do the awesome work of ensuring that we remain moving toward the intentions set forth when this country was founded. These lofty goals – all are created equal all are endowed with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness - like any goal must be lived. Intentions must be embodied into actions in order them to become real, and that often mean watching out for human activity. Making sure that we use nuclear power safely, ensuring that we take care to test drugs and food, that we safeguard the standards by which we run little things like the internet these are examples for me of how our government lives into the potential of those intentions. This does not mean the gov always gets it right but getting it right all the time is NOT THE POINT. I expect government to hold onto these ideals because I know business, with a focus toward profits, cannot. For a biblical reference – from a guy named Jesus, you cannot serve both wealth and god. G-d here is that intention to act justly, behave kindly, and live as if others matter. I think this is why the government shut down feels so raw to me. For two Friday's I spent time with people that have held onto the intentions of our founders for me. I feel bereft that they have been told they are not important and outraged that my government has implied that these truths that I believe in no longer mater. I want to say clearly, as an individual within this community, I hear you, I bear witness, I write letters and I vote.

If there is any help out there - send it to Washington DC to help these fine people remember why we have a government in the first place - to protect, yes, to protect the vision set forth so long ago by a groups of people willing to take risks to live their principles. By the way they did not get it right all the time either - but mistakes (even entrenched choices) did not stop them from trying to live the intentions they espoused.

Come on folks we are better than this - at least we were at one point.

Post 45: Cold winds blow

I have what is colloquially known as a bucket list, my list includes people who I would like to see in person, to be in the presence of, and places that I would like to see. One of those people is Zen Buddhist Master Thich Nhat Hanh. His words and voice follow me throughout many days. The gift of his reading poetry and words have helped me through times of both sorrow and anger.Live now, love this moment, practice compassion. The work to be present to this moment, no more - no less is work that I come back to in my spiritual journey, especially in this season. 

Every couple of years I look up where these people are or check to see if there are any opportunities to see them. As we prepared to go to Europe this summer I looked into the potentials for visiting Plum Village in France, Thich Nhat Hanh's residence as he continues his exile from Vietnam (a situation that just seems crazy to me). It felt a bit too far away from Paris for the trip. We were traveling through to Germany on a trip focused mostly on moving Genny and meeting her beloved's parents. 

This Sunday I awoke to learn that a north American tour was underway bringing Thich Nhat Hanh to the US. At the mid-point Krista Tippet was interviewing this luminary. Searching the web I quickly found that he was traveling from the east coast to California his last east coast stop had occurred two days ago - I had missed an opportunity. 

This lesson is so hard fought for - there is only so much time, only so many dollars, only so many books, songs, opportunities, there is only so much life that can be lived. Choices make a difference.

What I choose to do today will impact my life for good or ill. How do I remember that? How do I breath into the losses and celebrate the moments brought on by chance? Maybe it is not what I experience but how (thank you always Michael Scott Brooks for this image of the journey is not about the destination but about how we take the trip).

I may not see Thich Nhat Hanh in my life time. I may have just missed the opportunity. Instead I was meeting new people at a congregation for a ministerial internship. Instead I was trying out new recordings, joining a chorus that will be a source of fun, learning how to get to my new room, chanting, praying, walking, healing, being. Instead I was living a full life. I am sorry to have missed this moment but it does not mean I will not hold within my breath the truth that I learned from this teacher Compassion with myself breeds compassion for others - we are all of one body. 

Post 44: A reminder for me from Mella

October has begun - filled with reminders to take care. The earth is turning and the chill spills in the window with the scent of fallen leaves, my sweet take care. Anxiety wakes you with too much to do, to much to live, to much to take on, my sweet take care. Expectations to care for others before myself loom over my heart along with the anger that would inevitably invade my soul, my sweet take care.

What a gift to wake after a restless night to the realization that I can choose to live within the flames of doubt or the passionate fires of reaching toward my true and best self. Either way I will be changed but in one I will be scorched in the other transformed.

And then this gift from Pam - take care my sweet, take care.

Making space - PMR 10-1-13

for nothing
Making space
for breath
Making space
for simply being.
For hope,
for dreams,
for wild possibilities.
Trees nearby hum electrically
a symphony of knowing.
My heart knows the tune.
Will I sing along?
The cat rubs her chin on my fingers.
she's right.
This is why we are here.

Post 43: Poetry & Pros

It is hard to be alone in this world. Hard to wonder who will actually be there when the dust of some crisis settles. It is hard to wake up and ache, cry, push, gather hairs, throw up, stumble, laugh, rage, and simply breath all in the space of a minute. Being sick is hard for a day but when it lasts months and year it is boring and maniacal all at once. Being sick is never to be ignored, if you think you take it on - can just wait it will rear up at you again and again and again and again.

Cancer is like that. For me, as a watcher, I could only (I can only)
bring jokes, beauty, stories, news, love, compassion, patience
              - I can bear witness and make this promise
                        - you will not go through this dark night alone, no matter where you go I will be there.

Perhaps that is too little, but I have found that it is after all, the only thing I have to  offer another, my presence.

*************************

A thought for the window:
How does a hill come into being?
Did it start knowing it would join to another?
Did it know that it would be an angling of grass that children's feet find a curious challenge?

Did this hill start as a wave - as a mountain - as an after thought of G-d?
Did this hill name itself as it waited under corn / trees / rocks?
Did this hill dream of something bigger - something majestic - something meaningful?

Today it takes its place as the ground upon which the young to walk hand in hand.
Tripping on the sloop, catching the arm, smiling a giggled embarrassment,
just grateful for the open space to explore their love.

Could a hill or any of us ever wish for more than this?
To bear witness to budding love.
To offer the sheltering comfort of a place to land firmly.

Sep 2013

Post 42 - To be encircled

It looks like we have finally made it - the we being homosexuals: gays and lesbians - not queer people in general...yet. It looks as if there is a turning tide of acceptance, we are finally allowed to marry. The IRS says that we can file returns jointly, we can get benefits from social security, health care, sign a marriage license and the pope has even issued a lets get on with other work statement.

It might look as if we have made progress. Because indeed we have. (A shout out to all the people who worked so many hours on this issue of recognition.) Today I wonder though... what does it mean to support love? To really support love - not the mewing cuddly cute kind of love that fills a 7 year old girls school notebook. Not the kind of love that only says yes - but real love. Love that takes hard work and sets boundaries and has expectations and lives in the trenches of daily life. Love that is weak and fails, love that sits up all night laughing, love that drops a gold coin into the salvation army bucket anonymously - or gives something just as valuable from the coffers of the heart. Love that knows when to step in to save me from myself. Love that will not condone violence in any of its subtle forms.

How is real love supported? Now that we have "arrived," even though in some places it is still only a murmur, what will real love look like?

I wonder because when I came out I got into a relationship that was emotionally violent. I got stuck in a battle of wills about my self-worth and mostly I lost, eventually I got pretty angry, and sometimes I acted poorly. Eventually I stood up for myself and acted better but it took a few years. I got stuck and I have wondered what part being a lesbian played in all of that chaos. If I had been in a straight relationship would it have been any better? Would I have known that I was worth more than someone constantly shaming me? I don't actually think so. I think that there are plenty of people who battle in this field everyday. Couples/relationship between people who are "stuck" because power feels good and can not be claimed anywhere else but through the force of domination.

I wonder because I do not want this kind of "real love" for anyone and I fear that the strength that being a lesbian, an outsider, gave me will not be available now to a scared 20 something just finding where they fit in the world. Being a lesbian brought me into a poor relationship, but it also gave me the tools I needed to get out. As a lesbian I had an edge, I could simply not speak about my primary relationship in my corporate life so that I could thrive there. It gave me a community to escape to once the relationship fell apart. It gave me the language of the oppressed that helped me to frame my experience so that I could push away from it. It gave me the strength of an outsider to choose the lone path. I heard a commentator say something like - well now the GL community can have screwed up marriages just like the rest of us with abuse and divorce and lovelessness. NO NO NO I do not want us to go screaming into that night.

Still while there is strength to overcome that can be found in the wild areas of our lives this is not the only kind of strength - indeed this strength may not be as sustainable as the strength gained in community. I wonder about this in relationship to real love because I also believe that being seen gives us the ability in community to call one another to our best selves. That being affirmed means that my life is open for the conversation that comes from observation and insight. Within a community I can grasp more possibilities about how relationships can sustain life beyond my own vision. Within community I allow my life, my choices, my actions, my interaction, perhaps even my beliefs can be examined. Ah and now the specter of judgement sneaks in, real love might demand of me this as well to withstand judgment to allow for those moments when conversation can lead to transformation.

It is confusing this love. Real love might demand that I draw on both of these things, from my strength forged in isolation and in community. Understanding that I receive something different from both. Affirming that both are needed. Accepting the insight that real love will mean that the conversation will allow for judgment but can also allow for celebration. Acceptance will not wipeout the potential for abuse but instead will demand a different set of tools to eradicate its specter.

Real love. In this place I realize that no matter what the choices I have only one person that I can hold accountable for my actions and that is myself. I have only one life that I can save and that is my own. BUT if I choose to bring that love into the light of a community the accountability can be filled by the grace of compassion, the actions held by the wonder of gratitude and maybe even forgiveness. Real love demands this of me - that I live as an individual responsible to myself and as a communal being accountable to my world.

Post 41 - Atonement

As we come to the end of the Jewish high holy days, I find myself thinking about life within the context of atonement and redemption.

What does it mean to "sin?" 

I believe that as Unitarian Universalist's (UU) we wrestle with this concept of sin as brokenness - in particular brokenness around relationship and commitments. In the broadest sense commitments are made and acted upon daily. I have made commitments to myself, family, community, the earth and Gd. I live within the expectations of laws and rules set forth by my communities. Sometimes those commitments are made in very public ways like within the context of a child dedications or union. I have found myself wondering about how the commitments broken within the context of these relationships might be acknowledged and mended within a community of UU faith?

The task of Yom Kippur (as I understand it) is, of course, atonement (at one ment - as some say). To ask for forgiveness as the year begins so that the course of the year can begin a new. I do ask this out of judgment having many things to atone for myself: forgiveness of broken promises, forgiveness for dishonesty, forgiveness for selfishness... but I find it curious that this holiday offers this opportunity. Interesting that the practices of faith call me to tasks that I might otherwise leave alone.

Post 40 - Let your memory be for a blessing MAC 1947-2008

August 12, 2013

Today an amazing and powerful woman would have been 65. Michaeline Chvatal lost her battle to breast cancer almost five and a half years ago. Let her memory be as a blessing.

Let her life shine in the hope that a cure might still be found. Let the reminder of her passion for community give me, give the world, the courage to reach out, even if I do not know what to do. Always in my heart I remember you and will always strive to be the person you saw.

Post 39 - home

Home. Why do so many of the really the complicated things end up being such short words. Love, fear, Gd, faith... they escape my mouth so quickly my mind has little to no time to reflect on what I might be saying. I hate my weight. I love my dog. I fear global weirding. I seek justice. I serve. All of these are true and they are complicated by life and love and experience. 

Today home is about a re-entry to the practice of liberal religion within Unitarian Universalism. This place is home, not only because I want to be here, but because I have been formed to belong here as I belong nowhere else in this life. Here I find others who join in questions and doubt. Here I find people passionate enough about justice to ask how they need to change. Here I find people seeking ways to engage the world they live within to know it and be known within it. Here I find people struggling to be open to the ambiguous nature of faith. Not everyone, not everyone ever day, but always there is a spark.

Such small words I use like home. I forgot that home is a place I seek, a welcome I recognize, a sense of belonging I cherish. Home is a smile, a smell, a word, a gesture, home is being known in the cacophony of all that is, all that was, all that yet might be.

Still I worry a bit (this may just be me). What the heck does one do when you have made your way away and back and away and back and away and back again. Can I say that I am back for good? Perhaps not, and maybe that is not the point. I can say I understand now that this is where I belong even if my courage has not gained its place yet in my heart to say no to an oppressor or to comfort. This is where I belong even if I long sometimes for the glittery sustenance and resource of belonging to the majority. This is where I belong even if my curiosity takes me somewhere to explore.  Even in this wondering away I affirm my belonging here among the seekers. While I may wonder what I missed and question if the journey away filled my heart enough to make it worth the suspicion I fear when I return? I have been salted with this gift of an explorers heart.

Post 38 - Cancer SUCKS

She stepped up to the microphone, cleared her throat, peered out at the audience (who responded with chair shifting and anticipatory laughter), put down her book, adjusted the mic, and she promptly turned around to take a drink. Seriously. Sneaking a look up at all of us, her fellow choir members, with a crookedy knowing smile, she turned. We were hers. They were hers and she knew it. It was a moment of sheer impossible audacity. She could have read the phone book and people would have sat at the end of their seat, would have leaned in rapt attention, we would have let go and laughed. It was beautiful.

My friend Meta is a stitch and a person for whom i hold deep love. When she let me, and her other 73 good friends, know she had cancer I knew I would shaved my head to be with her. "You are not going any where I can't go" I replied when she opened the door that evening. While obviously tinged with false bravado it was/is the only act of faith I can concretely give her from 600 miles away. Meta had been through cancer before, she was in our home when my beloved partner Mike died. So it is important to me that we both know that hers is not the same story. 

What is it like to sit this image of a comedian who has audiences waiting for her words next to the image of courage that cancer demands of you. Cancer sucks, not only for the obvious reasons - like, oh yeah death or dismemberment - cancer sucks because it invades every pore of your life. The very dust of your home becomes ladened with fear that did not exist a moment before. What are the numbers this week, what do they mean, how do we get them to change. The sun shining through the trees suddenly seen from your bed in the middle of the day. The hushed voices, the people all saying things will be OK, the books that once gave you comfort are too heavy, the food that filled you and made you feel whole tastes like a bad penny. So many things change. You also get to live for a brief and honest moment when it is clear - every moment - clear what matters.

My friend Meta amazes me. OK that seem obvious. I have come to expect to be amazed by people who are moving courageously through life - but Meta does this "thing" in the same way that she delivered that speech. Meta laughs, she lets other people laugh, she takes her time, she is audacious - she will not let cancer define who she is. Just like my Mike, Meta seems to say with her very life - cancer may claim more than I ever want - but it will NOT claim the me of me that is me to my core. Meta will now be someone who has survived cancer, but that will not always be the thing with which she leads a conversation. Because of this, when she reaches for the mic and turns and smiles I will not think solely of her as someone who once lost her hair to survive.

OK cancer sucks, and it is a reality that we live with. This week my friend is tired. So if you pray - I am going to ask you to pray. Pray that she sees her balding head as beautiful, pray that she claims her way (not mine not yours), pray that food tastes good, pray that her bones carry her, pray that the walk to her friends is not too long, pray that she laughs, and finally pray what you know she might need.

That night with the microphone, well later, sitting around in the after glow, I asked her about that thing she did to make people laugh and wait and lean in, that thing that she does so well. Meta said that she has learned that she can take her time. That people will wait to laugh, to be together, to be seen, acknowledged, drawn out, drawn upon, and will wait because ultimately we trust. 

Hmm a microphone might be the best teacher for how to sit with cancer - who knew.

Post 37 - Into the Myst

I look for the portal, in my well ordered closet
             to another place.
I can see the beauty there,
      sense the wild opportunity.
      feel the sun filtered by life.
But the portal is is guarded by the excesses of my life - things - ideas - order - wealth

Like a sumo wrestler the guard waits confident the weight of all that is will hold me.

If I turn around and walk out a door
      is there another way
      guarded only by a fog of uncertainty?

Do not pause to think too long, move, Get Out.

- Karen

Post 36 - What the saints teach us

Chicago - COS icons

To create an icon is to encounter a person you think you know. Through prayer, sounds super simple eh?
HA!
Once my knees hit the ground all bets are off. I might be changed, if I am lucky. I might have a conversation, if I try. I could find inspiration if that is what I seek.


Choosing a saint to create I must put myself in the way of prayer.
I submit to choosing and being chosen.
Choosing a saint to create I must put myself into a place of wonderment.
How did this happen that this person became who they were? What draws my attention in this time?
Curious I engage you?
I draw not what you looked like but who you are - to me - to the world - to spirit - to prayer - to the holy - to faith - to Gd.




Did they become themselves?
Did they dive into a holy presence?
Did they dance so hard that the body they knew shook off in favor of becoming a new being?




Of course I have heard of John, Francis, Jude, Simone, Theresa. I know they inspired others. They became so much that they emanated the presence of Gd.

As I understand it to become a saint in the Roman Catholic tradition you have to have performed three miracles. What would I do?
- Be nice to someone I really do not like.
- Gave away something that I loved.
- Heal myself so that I might heal some others in the world.
- Live simply
- Love with mercy
- Seek forgiveness
- Trip and rise, and trip again
Today all of these seem like simple miracles. Probably not enough to make a saint but still they are a place to start.

**********************************************************

About Icons: (From the service at COS)

An icon is an image that speaks to us. In fact the most important thing is not so much that we look at the icon, but that we allow the saint to look at us through this sacred sacramental image. A quick glance does not allow us to enter its mystery. We must quietly contemplate an icon before it can speak to us.
Beauty cannot be grasped, manipulated or owned. It is always a gift. We can only gaze and enjoy. Icons show us a way into the divine beauty that can sustain and refresh us.

An icon is an invitation to the experience that Francis Thompson expressed in his great poem ‘In no strange land’:
O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee, 
O world unknowable, we know thee, 
Incomprehensible, we clutch thee. 

Post 35 - Leaving another job behind

Karen - Chicago/ Chattanooga/ Life

You never know when you start a conversation with someone where it might end up.

Back in November a conversation to say good bye to a good friend led to a temporary position as a remote software tester. Now November of 2012 will go down in my life as a time of transitions. Moving from Chicago. Putting Mike's house up for sale. Being granted sponsorship from Second Unitarian. Ending my job with Rainbow Hospice. Starting work at Care Team Connect. Transferring worship leadership for a contemplative Anglican service back to the more capable hands of the Rector at COS-Chicago. On November 19th Pam and I packed up the car - found a suitable place for Christmas Penguin (yes literally watchin' our back for the 900+ mile to Chattanooga via Cleveland) - got the last bag of Garrets popcorn and took the skyway toward Indiana. If nothing else we were on an adventure.

Of course so much of this was prompted by what seemed to be a sudden shift in my faith journey. Rejected as priestly material by a Bishop (the brand of heretic is what I claim) I was thrust head long back into that gritty aspect of life we call "the desert." Ah the desert where deception, possibility, cruelty and temptation live in diametrical opposition to the reality of your life. The reality of my life.

The reality was and is that I had claimed Christianity as I believed the words of Jesus - Love your Gd and love your neighbor (Mk 12:31). I had struggled with these concepts all my life and at COS in Chicago I found a group of people who were struggling with this core as well. I was not attempting to hide my doubt of John 14:6 the only way. I was trying wrestle with how I related to Gd. I can not be sure but I think I missed the boat on what most people would call Christianity. I spent my time looking at the life of Jesus not worrying as much about his death.

The stark desert reality that has come through to me in the months since that phone call from Bishop Lee (taken on a 4 lane freeway in the middle of Naperville IL) is that to be a Christian probably means believing that we are all born sinful and that Gd sent himself to die so that we could know forgiveness. That to be an Anglican means that celebrating communion is a celebration of the feast on the table. I know, I know, I know for four years I said these words what did I think they meant? I am not sure I have the space to write that today - though I have 15 more days (weeks) to document with this year question. ...

Let me start here. I believe that we are broken and I believe that Gd responds to this broken nature with love. Not fear, not reprisal, not terror, but Gd responds with love. I believe in the table of Gd but not necessarily what is put on that table. The communion we celebrate is the conversation - the conversion - of our individual nature to one of unity and humble communal celebration.

To often in my life  conversations have become a sneaky way to create landing points for my opinions. I try to allow others thoughts to creep in and settle - yet - my opinion and perhaps lack of listening skills can get in the way. Conversation brings with it the notion that I might be changed by the thoughts that you have. Conversation means that I might just be converted by you into a better self or into this conversation. Conversation in this way becomes communion. Bread broken the stuff of our lives. Wine the drink that allows us to see each other as whole and holy, even in the presence (perhaps because of the presence) of our broken nature.

The desert brought forward two things - I am likely not a Christian in most people eyes, certainly not in the eyes of the Bishop of Chicago. Though I claimed this monicure while walking within the processions that make up the Episcopal Church - I am not an Anglican. An Anglican must be one who speaks the words and believes first even if there is doubt. Not one who comes with doubt in search of words that might hold.

The desert that I have inhabited of late takes on many different aspects, sometimes we find mirages, sometimes we find oasis, sometimes simply an offer that would chain us to security when freedom calls. I use this metaphor of the desert as that is what I have been walking with in this time as I sort through my life and try to understand the will of Gd in all that has happened.

I know that I am a minister. I thought that I was called to the ritual and practice of the Episcopal church. I have come to recognize that that discernment came when viewing this faith from within the procession not from the pew. I love Gd and I live within the worship of the holy but I would be hard pressed to state unequivocally that Christianity is the only way to that fount of blessing. I believe that the love of Gd stretches to all, it is our choice to partake or not of that gift (universalism). While I know that this is a belief that is held by many in the pews.

I think that Bishop Lee was probably right in labeling me a hertic (well that would be my choice of words given our dialogue) within his church. A Bishops role is, after all, to watch over the welfare of the church and its teachings. The Episcopal church is founded on the life and resurrection of Christ. So with me there is discord, while faithful to Gd, while profoundly moved by the ritual of communion, I am wrestling with the term Christian these days. A follower of Jesus and his teachings - yes. A believer in all the scriptures - no. A faithful follower of all the teachings of any church - ha. And there, there plainly, is the challenge. "You have a Franciscan call" - Bishop Lee stated. What Francis heard from Gd - fix my church.

So I am headed back for ministry within the faith of my youth - Unitarian Universalism. Which for me is the practice of the table, not the practice of what we put upon it in eucharist. It is a place where seekers come in search of community. Community that demands the best of us so that we might be saved and go out to serve the world.

I believe that we all have moments of transcendence moments when we know Gd, when we know ourselves to be part of a larger whole. These moments might come from being loved, from reading and absorbing scripture, from a pure sense of joy in service, from music, from worship, even from preaching, and from many many other places. I believe that these moments can transform us into our best selves. I know that is what I always pray for - still - these moments can slip through my fingers if I am not called to work with them in community. Community where other people hold up a mirror to my life and allow me to see what is actually going on rather than that for which I have hoped.

This is the work in any UU church (or in any congregation) that we call one another to wrestle with our moments of transcendence in hopes that we will be transformed. For UU's that means living in relationship (covenant) with one another - not believing the same thing but living to bring one anothers faith forward from the beliefs that have evolved for us from our experiences of life.

This week I left another corporate job.
I left because it is not the work I am called to in the world.
I am not a Christian. I am a believer in the table. I am a minister to the possibilities of conversation. I am a lover of life and of this wild and broken world. I am a caller of the holy into present moments. I am - no more than you - I am.

Day 34 - Making choices

Karen - 50 days - Eastern US


Do 50 days really have to be in order?
Is there magic mastery mystery in concentrating a question?


At some point I thought that life observed in the crucible of time, life compacted by need into a short stretch, might have a desired effect of making me think more about important issues.




The challenge - having thought more about important issues I found that being on the road for 14 of the last 18 days has hampered my ability to reflect on much besides how the people I am with today are - which upon further reflection may be the point of any life well lived anyway.



Call -
To be with two amazingly in love people as they celebrate publicly a commitment to one another - yeah Erin and Josh
To enjoy the company of friends and family as we traveled across the eastern states.
To be in the presence of courage, kindness, reflection and love with Meta and Susan.
To let go of the comfort of a sure job for the open life of ministry - again.
To enjoy the moments left with family taken slowly away by memory loss.
To be thrown into prayer when delayed by an accident.
To revel in the sheer joy of a 18 month old child.
To remember, to reconnect, to retreat, to be with - another.

To whom am I responsible. To those in front of me and to myself.

So 50 days
- delayed but not forgotten.




The next 15 will be chosen by the want of a story that needs to be told. Responsible to the call of life that must be shown.

Included here are some views from our trips.

Day 33 - What we meet on the road up hill...

Karen / Pam / Parker - Chattanooga [Poop Hill]
(Really Parker and Pam)

When we got little Parkery Parker - when she was a mere 8 weeks old and so small she could not get up one step - she set her sights on the hill behind our place as her "business" go to. Hence the moniker 'poop hill.' It is steep and essentially goes up into the woods / mountain behind us. There sit the requisite old car, the beaten up lawn chairs, a discarded plastic cup from Popeye's and pieces of hose (with no spout anywhere in sight).

We thought it cute, then annoying, then good for us, this mandatory exercise 3-4 times a day. It taught us to wear good shoes, what our apartment looks like from the top and how easy it is to see in our windows from 2-stories up. We did not know it was... well... dangerous.


We had heard that there were snakes - our friend Doris laughed and told us to wear boots... really we laughed back and thought - oh sure there are - not around people of Gd.

Then Pam came in and said the dreaded word - I saw..

we looked ...

Holy - %&)@$^#*

Yes friends a copperhead - pit viper - poisonous snake and ugly neighbor - right here is Chattanooga - YIKES.

Apparently they LIKE the rocks and the debris and the sun.

Walks up poop hill are temporarily stopped. And by temporarily I mean I will no longer walk up there but Pam might and Parker will plead...

 

Day 32 - Responsible, perhaps an answer

Karen - Chattanooga

A thin lines   
- draws
- sorts
- contains
- separates

If I believe in Gd

If I serve community / youth / homeless / humanity ...

Who holds me responsible to that service?

Who holds me to having some answers?

What thin line drew my heart closed...
... what thin line cracks it open again
         if I believe in LOVE
         if I serve the TABLE
            I am responsible to the INVITATION
 

Day 31 - Spirit is color

Karen - Chattanooga

Line distract from the whole
The whole distracts from the lines

To be both is to be aware
      of when
      of how
      of why
      of life       of love

To be both is not an answer
      it is simply a way

Enjoy the chaos of this moment - too

Day 30 - In a time of great rain

Karen - Lookout Mountain

The rain started about January in Tennessee and has not stopped since. The hills, mountains, that I now call my home have baptized every part of me. New green leaves against black, water drenched tree trunks, purple trumpet flowers and azaleas, the yellowing of euonymus against lichen, and moss, and lime stone - in my weariness of grey sky's, my soul leaps forward at the sight of these moments of beauty.

Stopping to let bikers pass, this flood of water appeared between the leaves. The sound would have let us know to look - but safely behind closed windows we stopped only for humanity and then paused in awe of this. The impossible, or the probable, the need to remember the desire to be that free, the will to let loose and tumble - all of that in the seconds it takes to rush past.


People here say it has never rained so much. I wonder if this is Gd's gift to me.

Wash free
Wash free
Wash free
Let the waters of salvation find you and wash free any doubt that Gd is here and remains in love with the love that is within her creation. Baptize me southern rain not to free me from sin but to remind me that even that which is broken can be used by the hand of Gd. Baptize me rain from a trembling heaven to give back to my soul a promise
- it does not matter what I believe in but that I have faith.
- it does not matter what or who I love but that I love
- it does not matter what I as long as I act in compassion and serve
- I am responsible to life : nothing more and nothing less. Baptize me - flood of rain. Save my soul. Fill me with the waters of life, of possibility, or promise.

Day 29 - the tallest thing on the horizon

Carol Myers & Karen - Chicago (a reminder of a different time)

 

Tall buildings reach for the sky. I have heard that you can tell through architecture what people value most - standing stones of Ireland bespeak a wonder of nature, the pyramids of ancient societies proclaimed the dominion of pharaoh or ruler, tall stretched steeples reminded us of Gd and now - now building that house commerce and living remind us where and with whom we place power and importance.

No longer the unknown, the far off king or even the holy, we are the objects of our own fascination.

There was a time when I would have railed against this. In a disgusted tone pointed this out at some poignant place in a conversation. But today I wonder.
The fog shrouds us in a cool glance. The suns rise inspires the rush of a horizon, possibility a waits, a new day is here, the gate to the harbor empty and the waters calm.
We have dominated the land and the earth has bends to our desires.

So ... let us be fascinated by our power enough to serve and be responsible to what we have created. This fog is not ours but the buildings are. The sunrise and its amalgam of chemicals not fully ours still its beauty is in part because of our living.

How will we work to save both.

Now that is a question for minds that will dream.

Day 28 - To whom

Karen - the world

Responsibility feels like the weight of the whole world

Responsible             To whom or what:
Pick up                    Family
Recycle                   Friends
Close the door         Community
Put down the seat    Homeless
Be informed            Women
Cook meals             Lesbians
Listen                      Gay
Ask questions         Trans
Make signs             Children
Sing                        Poor
Remember              Rich
Be with                   World
Create                     Earth
Clean up                 Pets
Write                      Animals
Teach                      Plants
Chant                      Environment
Spin                        Education
Sew                        Health care
Call                        Justice
Walk                      Equal rights
Petition                  Diversity
Organize                Freedom
Read                      Security
Garden                   Partner
Shop                      Memory
Give                       Future
Ride

Day - what are we at 26, 27...

Dante's inferno starts something like this: In the middle of the road of my life I awoke as if in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost.
Well here it is the middle - and these are not the gate of hell that I have found with the foreboding sign ***Abandon hope all ye who enter here ***

No instead today I have been confronted by a sea of possibilities. Really - literally - flooded!!!!
This guy at work (Mike S.) and I have had this odd conversation about possibility and intention and yes happiness as the result of attitude for the last 4 weeks - not taking life too seriously - letting go of guilt - setting goals but holding them loosely. Then a movie pop-ed up on Netflix from Sunday:
http://youtu.be/JcMQmuvzPmI
Reminding me of a double rainbow and this gift of the golden secret.
Why am I in this odd job while I appear to be simply waiting for my life to restart? Why doing the monotonous job of testing software for someone elses gain? Why sitting within this pit of anxiety - looking at the dark wood once again (Corporate America-abandon hope indeed)?
Why when faced with this does something seemingly random turn into this flood of possibility.

the way is not lost
the woods are not dark
this may be the middle and still there is so much more
I (we) need not abandon hope - grace is still here in the ridiculousness of feet and duckbilled platypus and taro roots and anything else that seems impossible and yet simply is - like love, forgiveness, joy, passion, hope, dreams, imagination, tomorrow, possibilities, random kindness, puppies, sun sets, bumble bees ... what ever you need to smile.

 

Day 25 - Prayer

Karen - Chattanooga

Prayer:
Filtered through life
the joy
the passion
the wonder
the knowing
I pray
Gd - love me
I am not proud that I pray this for myself. I am not proud that I pray so that I can love you, love life, love others, love the world, love love

It is hard sometimes this place that we are called to serve.

I pray with empty thoughts to hear
I pray with smooth intentions to act
I pray that always compassion
remind me not to blame on malice that which can be easily explained by ignorance.
I am ignorant too - speak Gd
I pray

Day in between days - a cloud of witnesses

Karen - somewhere near Northbrook

It was an explosion of pent-up-ness. A perfect arc of lemon ice streaming not out the window but back into the car.
A spoon had gotten caught and a small shower of sticky goodness refused to be released into the wild of the expressway. In all honesty at 65 mph  probably headed for the tires and the car doors.

What possessed me to try to toss it out the window?

I was in that space of needing to let go of something and the half eaten Culvers Lemon Ice seemed a better choice than the map of my life I was trying to sort through. I opened the window to dump and just as the cup met the rim of the glass I noticed the spoon sticking beyond - still in the car.

Later that evening as we drove we found gooey stuff - everywhere.
Gravity and wind disbursement are amazing things. They carried what I thought I was getting rid of right back into the car. They carried everything back inside where they must be dealt with. With each little goopy glop I find I pray to remember. My life will not change unless I change it.
My choices will not go away unless I make different ones.
My desires, no matter how sincere will not live without guidance and initiation.

But if I continue to look a small cloud of witnesses (this one on the front windshield) may even show forth from the aftermath of a failed attempt to simply release without preparation. A reminder that Gd is still present watching and waiting and praying, perhaps, for me.

How long will I be reminded of this ill-conceived action -
little drops of gooey are found everyday my friends ...
... everyday.

Day 23 - Burning away to burn brighter

Karen - Chattanooga

What is it in life that must be burned away.
Held so tightly to the ground that the only way to free up the earth for new growth is to scourge what is above.
When life burned away my hope I did not die -
I climbed to find the source - I sought out the what and why of my grief and loss.
Where did this flame start that cut so neatly into my well tended field of life.

Ah -
and what I found -
what sages have suggested from the start
The source of the flame was love.

Had love not found me the field would never have been planted
Had love not found me the flame would never have been able to reap its harvest
Had love not found me I would not have sought out the source of that flame
to look blinded by light into the face of love - of Gd and weep.

What will the field grow - new shoots come forth - some have already gone the way of the sickle.

Come love - I see your face more clearly now for having endured the flame
Come love - I know you are not the well ordered candles
Come love - I know you leap for life not joy or sorrow
Come love - be in y breast that I might live within you always.
 

Day 21 / 22 - Through the eyes of a child

Chicago - Betsy and her teacher - students

In Chicago on a Sunday morning during the school year. Betsy Peterson can be found teaching 9-12 year old children what she knows of Gd. In this faith a traditional ritual of communion is celebrated weekly as a promise - to love, to be with, to give grace.










What does love look like - a promise fulfilled, a gift of hope, the impossible, the sheerness of joy overflowing. All of these bespeak Gd.



And as is true for most good relationships, they teach her as well. 

"The most crazy making child did a big cross and at the center wrote the word hope. I could have wept for joy. He also did a candle - the Paschal candle I think, but wrote the word love."

God is Love - let heaven adore ... 

Day 20 - Simple gifts

Sue Dunmore - Chicago

My sister is an amazing artist. After this weeks events - terrifying, numbing, aggravating, and surprise-less. At a vigil she remembered these words:
Tis a gift                        Tis a gift to be simple                               Tis a gift to be free

Yes my sister - what else can we be called to in this world than to remain free.

Day 19 - What am I called to do

Karen - Lookout Mountain

It took a moment - my gut knew it first - still I did not stop or turn around, I drove on.

It was a good day. Beautiful sky. A cool breeze. I was wondering about this place with so much pollen that it collects as a fine dust of yellowing over everything even the pools of water after a hard rain. Parkery Parker in the back seat (our chewing machine - er - puppy), we were headed home up the mountain - a swervey curvy mess of a great ride. In my little Fiat I like to imagine myself part of an English spy film as I drive up at night.

But there in the middle of the road - you know already don't you - an animal. It could have been anything, it was brown, nondescript, long, mostly it was dead. I hate that, the sight and feel of seeing an animal killed by a car. I heard once that animals dieing this way is a clear sign that we humans had taken up too much of the planet.

I drove on. ... What should I do???
I drove on. ... What could I, me only me, do???
I drove on. ... What about the traffic if I went back???I drove on. ... What would I do with the body - this little life that was someones pet?
I drove on. ... What should I do about telling - someone - about this death?
I drove on. ... What if the person doesn't know and worries - unsure forever what had happened?
I drove on. ... What if I can't do it, what if I can't pick up ...
I drove on. ... What would I want if it was my pet???
I drove on. ... and then I turned around.

A reusable grocery bag from trade show in hand I did the only thing I would want from someone else
that saw Roxanne, or Max, or Dylan, or Bogart, or Icke, or Leo, or Grey Max, or Ruppert, or Simon, or Edju, or Kitten, or Suki, or Pie, or little Parkery Parker to do - I went back down the mountain and picked her up. Walking back to the car I waved down someone passing into a nearby drive way and asked - Did they own a cat? Yes. One had been killed - did they...? No.

So it was mine to lay this body down. I went into the woods (this is a mountain after all) and covered her as best possible. I said goodbye with a tear (odd really this life was not mine to mourn) and a prayer. It felt impossible really to know what should be done, but there was nothing else to do.

So I went back to the car and Parkery Parker.
I drove on. ...