Beginning Again - 2009 - Archive-Diving

This post marked my re-entry into the blogging world after a break and I want to salvage it to remind myself to be careful with what I share here.

For anyone who might possibly be reading this blog, you have probably noted that there is a long gap between entries at one point - from June of 2007 until early January of this year. There's a reason for that, and that reason is deeply entwined with the very nature of public blogging sites.

I learned, in a very painful way, that whatever I write in this space needs to be as free from reference to other people as possible, even when those others have a dynamic impact on my own life. I learned this particular lesson the hard way by unintentionally causing pain to people I care about a great deal, so I am trying to be much more circumspect with what I write, keeping things as personal and ego-centric as possible, mentioning others only rather peripherally and with great care.

That's hard for me. Because writing has become my primary means of processing a whole lot of what happens in my life.

With words, I can wrestle and muse and ponder and rage.

With words, I can sing and shout and praise.

With words, I can think more clearly, find answers more readily, be more comfortable with the times that answers don't come.

With words, I can more easily locate the center - of a problem or a puzzle or an indescribable joy. Words.

But I also love pictures, photos, actually.

Taking them, studying them, pondering them as I remember where I've been and where I'm going. Last December, I very tentatively began to open this site again. At that time, I tried to post some newly shot photos, taken at the beach that has become my refuge, my home-away-from-home, my centering place, my reminder that the universe is an immense place, that my worries and fears - overwhelming as they are at times - are so tiny in the grand scale of God's creative genius and love.

But it had been a long time since posting anything and I forgot how to get those photos into the essays - in fact was stunned to see them show up as computer geek language rather than actual pictures, at least on the draft page. But now, some two months later, I've finally figured out that that strange language on one page of the blog magically transforms into pictures on the actual site - who knew??

So, I'll try and post those beachside photos from last fall here, toward the end of winter, as I joyfully and gratefully approach the beginning of longer light each day. Hooray for daylight savings time! (A couple of these have appeared in posts between the first attempt at this one and today's second attempt.)

This is where I most often park my car - to be quiet for a few minutes or to eat my lunch or to read or...

It's at Butterfly Beach, 5 minutes straight down the hill from our home, across the street from the stately and beautiful old Biltmore Hotel. This view is looking south and to the east. (That's right, we have south-facing beaches on our funny peninsula here in Santa Barbara.)

This view is still looking south, but more directly to the west - where, as the two photos below will attest, you can actually see a sunset during the winter months.

Looking in the same general direction as the daytime photo above.

Close-up of a beautifully striped sky.

Word Candy. . . Some Sweetness and Light

There's a wonderful new app out there that allows you to pick from a wide variety of fabulous, short quotes and then set that quote against either a photo (all of which are way cool) or a colored background. You can do amazing things with these Word Candies:

     ...post them on your wall at Facebook
     ...send them in an email to a friend or two. . . or three
     ...tweet them to a friend (or several)
     ...put them up on your blog
     ...use them as a springboard for a poem or a post
     ...cheer yourself up on a blue day. 

This one pretty much summarizes why I blog at all -- no one else can tell my stories. And no one else can tell yours, either -- only YOU.



You can get there by clicking on this line. You sign in using Facebook or Twitter and then - let the fun begin!

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 15

So there are some days in which

beauty takes you by surprise.

I had a doctor's appointment today -

not usually something that comes

even remotely close to being beautiful.

But for just a moment,

I spotted it.

"You look really good today,"

the cardiologist told me

when I went in to see him 

for follow-up to a change

in blood pressure meds.

"Your numbers are exceptional. 

I'll see you in a year."

That was a spot of unexpected 

beautiful news. 

And I had about one hour

after that appointment,

and before my next one.

I chose to spend it

in my second 'office,'

reading through a couple of days

in a new devotional guide,

recommended by my friend, Nancy Franson,

and prayerfully pondering future writing

themes and projects.

This is "my" spot on the bluffs, overlooking Butterfly Beach.

From the front of my traveling office space,

this is the view.

Shifting just slightly to my right,

brings in this one, which is a little bit less dramatic.

And this is the view to the rear of my work space.

Not too shabby.

We have been blessed to see some of the most beautiful

coastlines in the world -

the Garden Route in South Africa,

the Amalfi Coast in Italy,

the Italian Riviera,

the north Atlantic seaboard,

from Connecticut all the way up to Nova Scotia,

the Caribbean shores of St. Thomas and Mexico,

the Pacific coast of Costa Rica and Baja,

and the entire Pacific Coast of North America,

as far as Alaska and the Yukon.

And this right here?

This is at the top of the list. 

And I can drive here in five - count them FIVE - minutes.

Thank you, Lord. 

I will admit this about being surrounded by such beauty -

I can easily be distracted.

Take today, for example.

This was a day for boats,

a subject about which I know very little indeed.

My friend, Sheila Lagrand, might be able to tell you a lot more about that particular subject,

though I doubt these photos will give her enough

info to identify what type of boats

I was watching today.

This one was very purposeful,

heading toward waters down

the coast. (You'll note that I did not say

heading south down the coast. That is because

our funny peninsula here faces south

rather than west, so it gets a little weird

if you say you're heading 'south.')

This tiny guy, however, was content to just drift a bit,
taking in the sights,
enjoying the beauty of a suddenly balmy day
after a tender taste of real fall weather late last week.

 Then a bit bigger boat came into my sight line,
looking sleek and intentional.
Again, he was heading down the coast.

Suddenly, the meandering mellow guy
began to rev up the engine, 
and before I knew it,
I had an interesting shot -
the islands in the distance,
the oil derricks in silhouette,
and two ships, passing in the daylight.

And just before it was time to move my office
to a parking spot in front of a favorite restaurant
(yes, lunch with a friend is an appointment, right?),
one final flourish from a small craft heading up the coast.
Perhaps this was the first guy heading home?
Perhaps this was boat number 4 in 40 minutes?
Perhaps it was time for me to put the camera DOWN,
and write a bit? 

I did grab a few ideas here and there,
and quite possibly some of those will 
show up here or at 
A Deeper Story/Deeper Family/Deeper Church.
Who knows?
All I know for sure is this:
today's office visit(s)
were rich with reminder
that I am - truly - 
being saved by beauty as I walk through each day.
O Lord, may I have eyes to see!

5-Minute Friday: GRASP - A Photo Essay

I am sitting on a porch, in a beautiful wooden rocking chair, overlooking the Frio River in the Hill Country of Texas. Gathered at a Writers' Retreat are about 70 people, here to learn more about the creative process, to eat well, watch a little rain fall onto a drought-prone stretch of chapparal, and to marvel at the goodness of God. I am at Laity Lodge for the second year in a row, delighted to be among such good company, with time to laugh, converse, think--even to write. So, this week's 5-Minute Friday will look a little different than most. I'll write first and then give you a 

brief photographic overview of our trip out to the canyon yesterday. 

 Please come on over to Lisa-Jo's fine blog, where over 200 folks join in the party each and every week. We are to write for 5 minutes, no editing, no over-thinking -just whatever comes out of our fingertips. It's great fun and often more than a little revealing.

GO:

It's hard to get from Santa Barbara CA to San Antonio TX.

It requires an overnight stay near LAX,

getting up at 3:45 a.m.,

going through airport security before one is fully conscious,

flying one hour to Phoenix,

walking miles through the airport to another terminal

to board another plane for 2 hours to your final destination.

Then you wait for your van-load of compatriots,

some of whom you actually might recognize,

and drive for 2 hours away from civilization

to this amazing place.

I've been here once before,

so I know what to expect.

It's an enriching, challenging,

welcoming experience to land in this space.

And I cannot quite grasp the words to say why.

We're singing with a a grammy-winning worship leader,,

listening to a PhD in neuro-biology tag-teaming with 

a film critic, learning how to write a good sentence

from an award-winning author

and just sort of spreading out on the inside of our souls.

Funny stories, serious questions, shared struggles - 

all of it makes for an enriching, encouraging experience.

There is freedom in this place,

there is welcome.

There is beauty, silence, companionship when desired.

And there is a sense of God's smile everywhere you look.

I sat on a bench by a jogging trail early this morning

and just listened for about 5 minutes.

Do you know what I hear?

Nothing.

Only a far away bird song.

THAT's what this place provides that 

so few places on this earth can - 

the sound of good silence.

STOP

Driving away from the airport.

The contrast of brilliant light and pouring rain off in the distance seen 360 degrees around in Texas.

What you might expect to find in Texas actually can be found in Texas.

Something about these mailboxes seems representative of the wide open spaces and ranch land of this part of the world.

Turning off the highway to the dirt road leading down to the HEB Foundation Camps.

A lovely harbinger of good things ahead.

Reaching the river road that leads to Laity Lodge

This is the only way in and it's remarkable.

The rainbow almost spanning the canyon carved by the Frio.

Looking out over the Frio right after our arrival at about 6 last night.

Hopeful reflections of beauty to come. Thank you, Lord.

The Talisman: a Writing Prompt

I am a person who wrestles hard with major transitions in life.

I never want to move too quickly, to make big changes

in the routines and patterns I am used to

without a lot of thought, prayer, and discussion

with trusted friends and family.

I surprised myself when our senior pastor was hired in 2005,

midway through my time as associate pastor.

I thought I would retire; that had been the plan.

But then . . . he came, with his high energy,

and his working style that was so different from anything

I'd ever experienced before,

and he knew so much about the liturgical calendar,

and, and, and. . . 

I realized I could learn a lot from this man,

things I hadn't done, in ways I hadn't done them,

so I decided (and he graciously agreed)

that retirement would go on hold for a while.

 By July of 2009, it was becoming increasingly clear 
to me that my time as a member of a church staff 

was coming to and end. 

What, I wondered, comes next?

Who am I without this title, 

this role, 

this connection to the 

community of faith 

I've worked alongside all these years?

So, I took a leap of faith - gasp! -

and enrolled in a post-graduate learning

experience, this one in Chicago,

to see if spiritual direction might be what the Lord

was moving me toward in this last stretch of life.

I flew to Chicago for a very intense week.

A good week, a rich week, an exhausting week - 

"Like trying to drink from a fire hose," 

is how I described it to my friends.

And at the very beginning of that week,

we spent a day on retreat, in silence,

with periodic worship times spaced 

throughout the day.

I took a walk around the grounds of that retreat center,
discovering a small gift shop with jewelry for sale.
Almost immediately, I spied this Jerusalem cross 
(second from left above) and snatched it up. 

Somehow that small, silver ornament became a
picture of God's promised presence amidst all the
things that were shifting in my life.
I wore it daily for the rest of that year.
It became a sort of touchstone,
a reminder that I was not alone as I
navigated the changing scene before me.

And I began adding other symbolic pieces to the chain.
The small bee, which says, "just be," on the reverse
and the beautiful spreading tree,
with, "free spirit," on the back.
Both of these, plus the charm with my first initial,
reminded me - as I caught sight of them 
in the mirror or fingered them while
reading or praying - 
that my deepest need is for stillness,
for practicing the presence of God,
for sitting in the silence, 
in the Mystery.

About a year later, six weeks after my retirement
became official, my husband and I took a 
lovely trip to Hawaii,
a place of my heart for the last 32 years.
So I added the heart with the palm tree on it. 

That summer,
after being too ill the previous year to continue
the program in Chicago with my own denomination,
I stepped into training with the
Benedictines.
Such a gift. 
So the last piece added was the medal
of St. Benedict.

Taken all together,
this set of charms,
of talismen,
speak to me of who I am becoming,
of where I am finding space and gift and grace now,
without the title,
without the role,
but with a life. 
A rich, wonderful, Spirit-graced life. 

During the hardest months of
this time of change - from about October of 2010
through May of 2011 - I took it off only to shower.
Somehow, the weight of it called to mind
the immensity of this time in my life,
this move from active ministry
to a more quiet and quotidian way of doing life. 

Gradually, this way of living became the new normal,
and as it did, the necklace sat on the counter more and more often.
I still love to look at it. 
And I still tend to wear it when I'm 
feeling uncertain or anxious.
I wore it every day during my
last two weeks in community with the Benedictines
in July and August. 
And I'll likely wear it every day that I'm on 
retreat at Laity Lodge.
But I don't wear it to bed anymore.
I don't wear it every day or even every week. 

Because I'm here.
I've settled - as much as it is possible for
a person of my personality to settle anywhere!
And I am grateful,
so, so grateful for what I'm learning,
what I've been invited to do,
how God is working through me
and in me and around me
even here, even now.

I'm glad I took that particular route as I walked around 
the grounds of that retreat center in 2009.
And I'm glad to have this tangible reminder
of God's faithfulness in the midst of major life changes.
It's just a necklace.
But it's also a story, an Ebenezer of sorts,
a marker of how the LORD has been here,
right through the shifting sands of change.
I look at it and say,
"Thus far, the Lord has helped me." 
And I say, "Thank you. Thank you."



My thanks to Amber Haines and her new writing prompt each week. The word this week was 'necklace.' I cannot write in poetic majesty as she does, but I very much enjoyed thinking about this one. So, thanks, Amber. You can click on this sentence to find her beautiful reflection and to find links to others who have taken up her challenge.
I will also link this to Jennifer's, Emily's, Duane's, and Ann's gatherings tonight.

 

Psssst. . . A Sneak Peek at Something Grand!

Have you ever had a dream?

A crazy, wild, hold-your-breath,

jump-off-a-cliff,

and-hope-and-pray-for-the-best

kind of dream?

One that you're pretty sure came from God,

but sorta scares you to death?

My friend Deidra Riggs had exactly that 

kind of dream . . .

and she is doing something about it.

Beginning October 1st,

Early-Bird registration will open

for a wonderfully-wild-and-wooly retreat designed

to encourage women of faith in the blogging world.

It will be held April 19-21, 2013 just outside of Omaha, Nebraska

This picture header from the new retreat website 

doesn't really fit on my blog page,

but I think it will give you an idea of some of the folks

who are going to be there.

And they're going to be there in order

to encourage all who come to dream big dreams.

If you'd like to take a peek at the website (currently under construction), just click on this sentence and head on over to look around!

As the website nears completion, here are some important details to keep in mind as you think and pray about attending. Details like - dates, cost, and a peek at the retreat center. Clicking on that sentence up there will let you read about the speakers/leaders and the Big Dream ideas that will be the thematic thread of our time together. I am excited! And I'm honored to be there as a Pastor-in-Residence. Any opportunity to become Real Life Community is a gift. And this one is a doozy.

1. Early bird registration will begin October 1 and run through October 6.
2. The retreat will take place April 19-21, 2013.
3. Early bird tickets will be $249 and will include a retreat pass, two nights lodging, and five meals.  
4. Regular price tickets (purchased after October 6) will be $299.
5. A day pass will also be available for those who may live nearby and choose not to stay at the retreat center. The cost for a day pass is $99 (early bird) and $139 (regular price)  and will include lunch and dinner on Saturday.
6. Ashland, NE is a 30-minute drive from the Omaha airport. We will provide a shuttle from the airport to the retreat center.
7. The retreat will be held at the Carol Joy Holling Conference and Retreat Center. Here's a link: http://www.cjhcenter.org/the-sjogren-center
8. Optional "Be Brave" activities will include the ropes course and zip line, under the supervision and direction of Retreat Center staff members. Participants can add this activity as one of their breakout sessions for an additional $10.
9. The event is designed to be casual, cozy, and small — we're planning for about 60 overnight participants, with a possibility of up to 100 total (including those who choose a day pass)

Dear Me. . . a letter to my teen-aged self

Emily Freeman is one of my favorite writers out here in blogland. And she's just released her 2nd book, this one aimed at teen-aged girls. It's called "Graceful." So as part of that celebration, she has invited others to write a letter to their teen-aged selves. Here's her button - and you can get any one of 17 versions of this over at her site. 

We're all linking up on Friday at Emily's blog, Chatting at the Sky.

Hello sweet girl,

Somewhere between this fresh-faced 11-year old, on the cusp of the dreaded junior high school experience, the one with the barrettes in her hair and the sweet smile on her face . . .

. . . and this curly-haired (how on earth did that happen??), Peter-Pan-collared, 16-year-0ld high school student who is wearing just a little too much lipstick, I think maybe we lost a few things. 

And here, I am, on the other end of this long life of ours, trying to help us find them again. 

So to you, my just-barely-pre-adolescent-self, the one in the barrettes, I want to say this: your family moved that year, the year right before Junior High school, you moved to a brand new community, a brand new school. You left behind the only school you'd ever known, the one on Strathern Street in North Hollywood. The one where you had two outstanding teachers who were men. And the one in 5th grade? Mr. Naismith? Yeah, that one. He told you and your mother, when you were both standing there together at the school open house, he said that you were a writer. A really imaginative, gifted writer. 

And you didn't believe him. 

You felt shyly proud, but you really couldn't quite grab hold of it.  So hear me, please: believe him. And write like crazy, will you? Because if you don't, that piece of you will be lost for a long, long time - the imaginative piece. And that, my dear, was one of the best parts of you before that move, before adolescence hit like a hurricane and made you disdainful of all things fanciful.

And you up there, the one with the artificially curly hair? The one in the collar? I see that face that can't quite look into the camera, and I know how much you hate so many parts of yourself. Really, truly hate them. And that is because you've seen how your mother frets over you. And all her worries, her fears, her misguided thoughts, her anxiety-based worldview - that's all becoming part of you. And it's going to take you years and years to try and separate yourself from all those pieces of self-hatred. 

What you don't know is this: all that angst you soaked in through your skin, the stuff your mom fairly breathed into you? It was really, truly about her and not about you. It was her own deep-seated insecurities that made her hover and wring her hands and give you home permanents that never worked right, and tell you not to walk like a duck, and drag you from doctor to doctor trying to find a remedy for your congenitally difficult skin, and then when you were sixteen and absolutely perfect (yes, you were -- look at the pictures!) she took you to a 'diet doctor' and put you on pills, for heaven's sake. 

She never meant it to happen, but it did. You were screwed up for the rest of your life in some ways, sweetie. Metabolism messed with, your relationship to food permanently corrupted, and really life-twisting anxieties taking stubborn root inside. 

This is a portrait you had taken right after you started at UCLA at the very tender age of 17 because your actual senior picture from high school was dreadful, even after two sittings. Did you see yourself well when you were this age? 

Not very often, I don't think.

So I guess my number one bit of advice to you at sweet-sixteen is this one: move out from under your mother's fears and just be yourself, your own weird and wonderful self. Proudly!

You are a smart girl, kiddo. You know that with part of yourself. You're in the gifted classes and the other kids think you're a bit of a nerd. And you are. 

Doing something silly for a church event, because that's where you always, always were as a 16-year-old - at church, doing all kinds of things. And occasionally, some of them were silly.

But believe me, that smart stuff is really going to work out great for you. Yes, it is. In fact, I'd like to encourage you to relax into it. It's a gift of God, one you don't fully appreciate and that your mom is a little afraid of ("The boys won't like you if you're smarter than they are.") But it will serve you well. 

There is this, though: being smart is not all there is. In fact, it's not even the best of all there is. And there is a very big piece of you that knows this truth, too. In fact, that's why you decided to join all those choirs in high school, even though you had to audition and that scared the bejeebers out of you. 

Because in those marvelous choral classes, you got to be one of the singers, not one of the brainiacs. And that was a very good thing for you to experience. So good that you're going to do it for a whole lotta years and every one of those years will be rewarding and rich and will touch the part of yourself that is creative and artistic. So, sing loudly when asked. Say yes to the duets and eventually the solos. Because it's really good to do something that requires you to face into your fears. Something that helps you learn just a little bit more about trust. 

Because, dear girl, that's going to be the center of your journey for a long, long time: learning to trust. Learning to trust yourself and your instincts, learning to trust your husband and your children, and most of all, learning to trust that God is for you, not against you. No.Matter.What. 

You're going through the motions so well, dear one. And you're learning so much in that head of yours . . . so much. You're a leader in your church youth group, you fervently read your Bible and pray for a long list of people. You help at home and never break the rules. You are a very, very good girl. 

But you're beginning to experience some pretty deep questions about life and about faith, about relationships and about family. And if I could tell you anything, I would tell you this: lean into all those questions. Keep on asking them, without fear that you'll fall of the edge of the earth and into some sort of cosmic lake of fire. Because this is the truth: God is so much bigger. SO.MUCH.BIGGER than you can think or imagine. 

God is way bigger than your doubts, your fears, your inhibitions, your insecurities. And this? THIS is what I truly want to say to you -- 

                                   God believes in YOU. 

Yes, you heard me right. God made you, crafted you with love, calls you by name. God will walk with you through all that is to come - all the great stuff and all the terrible stuff, all the beautiful and all the ugly, all the terrifying and all the satisfying. So . . .

          write it all down,

               come out from under your mother's fear-soaked shadow, 

                     don't be scared of all the Big Thoughts you're having,

                             and, most of all,

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart...." for God will "direct your paths." 

And you are going to be SO surprised where God's path takes you. 

Love to you from . . .

YOU, all growed up at age 67

P.S. Some of those pathways God will take you down? They're going to be grand fun! 

FRIENDS: If you'd like to know more about Emily Freeman's book, click on this line right here to read all about it.

I'm also joining this with Emily Wierenga, Ann Voskamp, and the SDG at Jen's place, if it's not too late: