On Retreat - February, 2009 - Archive-Diving

A remarkably beautiful weekend away with women pastor friends, words and photos I want to save, memories that are precious to me.

Last Friday morning, my husband was kind enough to drive me to the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank on his way to work, so that I could catch a flight to Seattle.

Since the mid-1990s, I have been 1/6th of a group of women pastors ordained in the Evangelical Covenant denomination. Sometimes I wonder what sparks friendship, what bonds people to a commitment to one another. I think we found a certain commonality in our mid-life call to ministry, our shared experiences within the denomination and a rather off-beat sense of the absurd. (As a fine example of that last point, we called ourselves the Ya-Ya Goddesses. Yes, we did.)

About once a year, we tried to gather for a period of retreat - usually about a week long - with days spent in silence and solitude and evenings spent in conversation and community. We searched for someplace beautiful and quiet, some place that would allow us time to savor the goodness of God in the natural world while at the same time enjoying the conveniences of indoor plumbing and cooking facilities. Due to a long list of stresses in all of our lives, it has been almost 5 years since we have attempted to get together and now a weekend opened up for 4 of us and we grabbed it.

I met my friend Nancy in the Seattle airport, picked up a rental car and drove 2 hours north through rush hour traffic to the Stanwood exit, following lovely 2-lane country roads to one friend's spectacular home and guest apartment on Camano Island.

Oh, my. 

      What a view. 

           What a house. 

                What a welcome. 

Because we have been unable to squeeze out travel time in these last five years, this year's gathering was filled with catching up, story-sharing, lots of laughter and a few tears here and there - in addition to fabulous food, cooked by Diane and Vicki and cleaned up by Diana and Nancy.

Basically, we had 2 days together rather than our usual 4 or 5, as one whole day on each end was spent in travel. During these years since our last gathering:

     one of us has lost a daughter to breast cancer, 

     one has lost a son-in-law to the after effects of cancer 

               treatment many years ago, 

     one has survived (successfully) a drawn-out lawsuit and 

               built a new home, 

     one has endured terrible disappointment in her job 

               situation and has very recently both remarried and 

               moved from one state to another.

So there was LOTS to talk about.

And talk we did, until fairly late into the evening on Friday and Saturday nights. And on Sunday night? Well, on Sunday night....we ordered pizza by the boxload, enjoyed hot fudge sundaes AND watched the Red Carpet and the Oscars. What more could you ask for?

Diane's home and apartment mirror each other architecturally and are both lovely to look at and live in. The apartment is dedicated to providing retreat/renewal space for weary pastors - what a glorious gift to offer the church!

When I went back to work on Tuesday, my boss asked me what I had gained 'spiritually' while away on retreat with my friends.

At first, I was stymied - this gathering was filled with more talk and less silence than most. But as I thought about his question, I was once again reminded that often very profound things can happen spiritually when you least intend it and seemingly don't plan for it.

I went away this last weekend in a spirit of openness to whatever God might do with our time together. And it was so good for me to hear something of each of their stories --- in order to make better sense -- or perhaps to have a better sense -- of my own.

For of the six of us, I am the last remaining pastor serving in a local church. Two work in retirement community environments, one teaches, two are 'retired,' though both are active in the parish churches they currently attend.

My pastoral role has been a gift to me, to my family and, hopefully, to the churches that I have served. And as I reflected on both the question I was asked and on my time away from the routines of life and work in Santa Barbara, I discovered (or re-discovered) these important truths about myself:

          1. I am a person who needs regular exposure to God's beautiful creation to function well in ministry and in life.

          2. I am a person who needs some kind of regular interaction with long-time, hold-me-accountable, encourage-my-gifts, listen-to-my-crap friends, friends who know something about me in my local setting but are not a part of that setting.

          3. I am a pastor who is called to serve the Lord in the local church.

          4. I am a pastor who sometimes needs reminding that taking a break, setting a boundary and stepping out of the routine are necessary and important things to do from time to time.

          5. I am a person who, despite being in the throes of long-term, low (and sometimes high)-level-anxiety-and-concern-now-moving-into-grief - I am a person who needs to have some order around her. And that sense of order has just fallen off the cliff during these years of illness and worry in our family.

After seeing the lovely, quiet and restful spaces that Diane has created in her home, I am encouraged and challenged to make such spaces around me in my work environment and in my home office environment. Slowly, slowly, I am going to purge my book collection, get rid of extraneous paper and create workspaces that are conducive to reflection, writing, thinking and prayer.

          6. I am a person who will very likely apply for the next go-round of the Center for Spiritual Direction, offered by our denominational seminary and ministerium. It's been on the back burner for a number of years, and I think the Spirit is nudging me to move in that direction NOW. (Applications are due March 31.)

So, yes, it appears that some things did happen spiritually during this time away. Thanks be to God - and to really good friends.

Nancy and Diana with Diane
Nancy and Diana with Vicki (Maybe next time, we'll master that automatic picture-taking thingy.)

Quiet for the Weekend - November 17-18, 2012

"Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, 

for God can be trusted to keep his promise.

Let us think of ways to motivate one another

to acts of love and good works.

And let us not neglect our meeting together,

as some people do, but encourage one another,

especially now that the day of his return is 

drawing near."

Hebrews 10:23-25, The Message

Oh, kind friends, may you enjoy the privilege of meeting together for mutual encouragement and for holding onto hope, tomorrow 

and through the week ahead.

Please know that the 'meeting together' we discover

out here is a gift to me, from you and from the God 

in whom our hope is found.

Joining with Sandy King and Deidra Riggs and their invitation to quiet and rest.

31 Days in which I am Saved by Beauty - Day 9

I have already written about this evening walking I do. 

This circle walking.

And circle praying.

Tonight I was a little distracted.

This is the season for the acorn drop,

and there are hundreds of them,

all over the paving stones of our driveway.

Can you see them in this picture?

The one below these words?

Earlier this fall, my grandgirl Gracie and I picked up a few,
and put them in a bowl on my china cabinet.
We don't usually see their small caps,
just the cylindrical bodies.
But this year, early in the dropping season,
we found a hundred or so that had their hats.

My husband believes that 
the number of acorns on the driveway
is a good predictor of how rainy it will be during 
the winter months here on the coast of California.
So far, he's been right. 

I think maybe we're in for it this year.

They're in every crevice, 
cracking underfoot as I turn circles,
round and round.
And when our cars drive over them,
they break open,
revealing the nutmeat inside.
Tonight, 
a small brown bird hopped out
from his hiding place under the
oleanders,
jumping into the space I had just left.
He began busily picking at the broken pieces.
When I'd get within about 15 feet of him,
he'd hop away into the bushes again.
He did this on almost all of my 36 circles this night. 

I like the crackling sound these acorns make as I walk.
That noise, these small objects - they remind me
that it is now fall,
even as the changing angle of the light
helps me remember that the seasons
are shifting.
We don't have a lot of other clues in 
central California, 
just these subtleties, these small things.
To me, they are beautiful
and evocative,
reminding me of how things
stay the same,
even as they are changing.

If I have planned well,
and begun my walking early enough,
I can finish my time outdoors
by sitting in this swing,
which hangs across the yard.
It's a beautiful spot,
sheltered under the oaks,
and the swing is strung up by sturdy chains,
wrapped around a large, twisting branch. 

If I have planned well,
I try to spend between ten and twenty minutes
in this swing,
centering,
focusing quietly on one or two words
from scripture.
I breathe carefully,
purposefully,
with awareness, trying to stay
in rhythm with both the words
and with the swing.
It always feels to me like I am
held.
Secure, cradled.

Even when the words are these:
"Mercy, Lord."
Which is what came to me tonight,
for a long list of reasons. 

I choose to believe that God hears and answers.
And even when I don't particularly like
the answers,
there is still mercy to be found. 
Selah.

A Photo Essay: Quiet for the Weekend - August 31-September 2, 2012

It's been a strange sort of week.

'Found time,' here at home,

time we thought we'd be traveling -

but we're not.

So we got to extend our days with our

youngest granddaughter by a couple of weeks,

and that was sweet.

Next Wednesday, she begins pre-school.

We took time to plan vacations for next year,

always a fun thing to do.

But communication with the agent got a little dicey 

and we weren't sure why.

Everything worked out in the end;

it generally does. 

Yesterday, we went to see "The Odd Life of Timothy Green,"

and found it quirky and sweet.

And then the projector blew up about 2/3 of the way through.

Say what?

We got a couple of free theater tickets out of it,

but still . . .

So we had an early dinner at a nearby

cheap-o place that turned out to be pretty good,

and we shopped at Costco, to prepare

for the thundering herd (in the nicest possible way!)

that will descend on us for the holiday weekend. 

It was 7:00 p.m. and the sky was unusually pretty,

so I turned the car right instead of left as we drove out of the parking lot, and headed to Isla Vista - the crazy college community that isn't quite crazy yet,

 as UCSB hasn't begun their fall semester. 

There was a good place to park, so I grabbed it,

reached in the back seat for my camera bag,

and headed out onto the bluffs,

just as the sun was beginning its last 

sinking, saturating radiance,

and the blue moon was starting its ascendency.

And I walked.

And I looked.

And I breathed.

Every once in a while,

I stopped to take a picture

to exclaim over the beauty all around,

and to say, 'Thank you' to the One who made it all. 

Come along with me, won't you?

(By the way, I have no idea what all those multi-colored small flags mean,

but they were pretty and whimsical in their own right, so I took their picture.

And I have to say that just scrolling through these pictures makes me say 'Thank You' over and over again. I cannot begin to put into words how grateful I am to live where I do.) 

And these words from scripture jumped out at

me as I reflected on this experience today, 

the day after all that confusion - and all that beauty.

Because someday, all that we see now as 

spectacular,

glorious,

breath-taking,

and life-giving

will pale in comparison to the LIGHT

that will overwhelm and bedazzle us on the Day of the LORD.

"No longer will violence be heard in your land,

nor ruin or destruction within your borders,

but you will call your walls Salvation

and your gates Praise.

The sun will no more be your light by day,

nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,

for the LORD will be your everlasting light,

and your God will be your glory.

Your sun will never set again,

and your moon will wane no more;

the LORD will be your everlasting light,

and your days of sorrow will end."

Isaiah 60:18-20

Joining Michelle DeRusha's invitation to Summer, for the last time this year,

and with Sandy and Deidra for their ongoing weekend invitation to quietness and reflection.

At the Marina: a Photo Essay

It was a beautiful morning - 

clear skies right from the get-go,

warm sunshine,

gentle breeze. 

A perfect day to treat ourselves to lunch out 

at the local marina.

 

Although boat culture is not our thing,

we love to look at them.

So we took ourselves to a ringside seat,

with a close-up view of hungry starlings 

and brightly blooming hibiscus, 

 and a more distant view of masts and docks.

Dick had his favorite seafood Louis salad,

I had a chicken quesadilla,

and we just sat and breathed for a while,

taking in the spectacular view 

and wondering aloud every so often 

if very many of these boats

before us actually make it out to the open sea.

After lunch, we took a slow amble down the waterfront,

noting how much clearer the water is now,

after a major harbor clean-up a few months back. 

 

We spied one turquoise-bottomed fishing boat 

as it slowly wound its way into the dock.

We stood and watched a bit, as it idled

in the unloading area while we walked 

south along the wooden decking.

There were others out and about, too, 

enjoying the warmth of the sun,

the sound and smell of the water. 

 One of the things I love about our town 

is the juxtaposition of ocean and mountains.

There is always something beautiful and inspirational 

to look at, no matter which direction you face.

 At least two fisherfolk were still out at sea 

(see their empty slips in the picture below?);

we hoped we might be lucky enough to see

at least one of them come in and unload their cargo.

 Sure enough,

a small, 2-person ship -

complete with crow's nest -

came chugging into view as we walked along the pier.

 These boats are far more interesting to us than the 

luxury cabin cruisers and humongous catamarans  

that dot our marina.

(See that big one in the right-center-rear 

of the picture above?)

Maybe that's because these small, well-worn boats 

represent the life and livelihood of a dying breed

in these parts - the journeyman fisherman.

Their territory has been impinged upon by 

multiple facts-of-life -

government regulation, most of it necessary;

predatory otters - all of them adorable, but destructive;

over-fishing and diminishing quantities of some of the

Santa Barbara channel stock-in-trade -

abalone and lobsters in particular.

 The white-haired gentleman atop the boat is the captain;

his long-suffering wife is waiting on the dock,

barely visible through the rigging.

There was one other crewman,

middle-aged and about as worn looking as this boat.

 We'd seen scarecrow-owls atop buildings before,

but this was the first time we'd seen one 

on a sea-faring vessel.

 We waited patiently, walking from one of the

weigh-in piers to the other,

noting two grey, covered trashcans on the deck.

What could be inside this time?

 Slowly, the winch raised those grey cans off of the ship

and onto the dock where a scale waited.

These two gentlemen below,

with Chinese last names,

opened some grey trashcans of their own,

taken from the bed of their small pick-up truck.

And then they poured amazing quantities of...

octopi... into them.

 The longer-haired gentlemen switched position

at the exact same moment I clicked the slow-shutter on 

my point-and-shoot camera, so I did not get a

picture of those slimy critters as they swirled into the can.

The buyers snapped on the lids, to protect their precious 

purchase from the vagaries of freeway traffic,

then got into the cab of their truck,

and drove those things back to somebody's

favorite Chinese restaurant somewhere. 

Just before we headed home,

 we snuck a peek into the local Fish Market

to remind us of what we usually see

when we come here!

 A beautiful selection of fish,

much of it very high-priced -

all of it delicious and fresh, fresh, FRESH.

We may not be part of the boat culture,

but we are most definitely part of the FISH culture.

And we are appreciative of the those who are dedicated and brave enough to gather the fish that we eat from the sea. 

All in all, a lovely summer afternoon.

Joining Michelle and her Graceful Summer invitation each Friday of these summer months: