Well, not quite dancing... but grooving on the elliptical trainer at the gym. The power went out this morning at Planet Fitness, so instead of watching inane stuff on the tv, I was grooving to my Afriki album on the Ipod. (Which I coincidentally brought for the first time because I was bored with the junk they broadcast on the tvs at the gym.)
I have a love/hate relationship to the ipod. On the one hand, it is cool to have your own personal soundtrack as you go about your business. On the other, I think music is meant to be a communal experience. I love listening with others, dancing and singing along. It seems isolating to listen alone.
Working out has been great, thoough. I started a few weeks ago because I wanted to be in better shape for the Big Trip. So every day I have been doing about 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer and then working either my arms or legs on the nautilus machines. (Do they still call them that, I wonder?)
Yup. I am superwoman:
Faster than a lazy water buffalo. More powerful than a kid selling gum on Nha Trang Beach. Able to lift extra large bowls of pho.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
The Big Trip
I am thinking it is silly to spin off yet another blog. (Three and counting at this point...) So I will be posting about my big trip to Vietnam here.
First, the particulars:
6 of us are traveling together. My husband, kids, my parents and I are flying from Providence to Chicago, from Chicago to Hong Kong and from Hong Kong to Saigon. (No one, and I mean no one, calls it Ho Chi Minh City!)
The flight between Chicago and Hong Kong is the longest leg, of course. It is just under 16 hours. Oddly, it is the one part of the trip that worries me. (Bad food? Nah! Malaria? Nope. Cockroaches the size of poodles? Pshaw! 16 hours in a confined space? It's enough to scare the crap outa me.)
I have prepared for the long flight by buying an inflatable pillow and packing ambien. Better living through chemistry, I say. I'll probably get some saline for my nose, too. The last long flight I took, my nose hurt like crazy by the end of it.
But oh, we are so excited. We leave in 2 weeks. My father in law is preparing for us. We are beginning to pack. We have our shots, our passports, our visas (very official from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, complete with a red star in the corner.) We have rehydration salts and immodium. We have water tablets and nalgene bottles. We have 6 bottles of bean sauce for my father in law. We have a box of wine and a phrase book.
We are getting ready.
First, the particulars:
6 of us are traveling together. My husband, kids, my parents and I are flying from Providence to Chicago, from Chicago to Hong Kong and from Hong Kong to Saigon. (No one, and I mean no one, calls it Ho Chi Minh City!)
The flight between Chicago and Hong Kong is the longest leg, of course. It is just under 16 hours. Oddly, it is the one part of the trip that worries me. (Bad food? Nah! Malaria? Nope. Cockroaches the size of poodles? Pshaw! 16 hours in a confined space? It's enough to scare the crap outa me.)
I have prepared for the long flight by buying an inflatable pillow and packing ambien. Better living through chemistry, I say. I'll probably get some saline for my nose, too. The last long flight I took, my nose hurt like crazy by the end of it.
But oh, we are so excited. We leave in 2 weeks. My father in law is preparing for us. We are beginning to pack. We have our shots, our passports, our visas (very official from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, complete with a red star in the corner.) We have rehydration salts and immodium. We have water tablets and nalgene bottles. We have 6 bottles of bean sauce for my father in law. We have a box of wine and a phrase book.
We are getting ready.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Confidential to A.F.
Welcome home!
I can't wait to hear about India. Wanna do lunch? I don't have your email!
Love,
Rachel
I can't wait to hear about India. Wanna do lunch? I don't have your email!
Love,
Rachel
The evangelist
Suddenly, I am evangelizing.
Not the showing-up-on-your-doorstep-talking-smack-about-the-state-of-the-world kind. Not telling my friends that they are destined to an eternity of hellfire and bad food if they don't mend their ways. Not even Jesus is Lord and until you accept that you are doomed.
Nope. I am just inviting people to visit my church. And they have been. And some have stayed. My son's friend mentioned a couple of weeks ago that they were planning to visit the Baptist church in the neighborhood.
"Really?" I said. "What's your mom's number at work?"
At which point I called her and invited her and the family to come to Grace on Sunday.
"I'll swing by and show you how to get there." I said.
They came, and it turned out that long ago, they had been Episcopalians until their parish closed and they never found another church.
They loved Grace. They joined. The kid is now in the middle school youth group with Noah. The teenager is excited about the mission trip this summer. The parents are going to volunteer to make sandwiches for the homeless. They all went up and took communion for the first time in years.
When I talk about my church, I talk about it with such joy and affection, I think people get interested.
A week ago I had dinner with friends and yesterday one of them showed up for the 10am service at Grace. She is a Unitarian Christian who is, I think, coming to understand that there is an oxymoronic element to that. She is longing for the sacraments. She is longing to hear about Jesus in church. She longs to sing his praises. So there she was. Next week she is coming to Lectio Divina before the service.
I loved my UU church, but interestingly, I never invited any of my friends to come with me. Well, maybe once or twice. A lesbian friend checked it out once, but it was the most dour of services. Doom and gloom, like Lent without the uplifting possibility of redemption. Even the hymns that day were like dirges. One of the problems with a UU church is you really never know what to expect. One week it was a sermon on the redemptive elements of Harry Potter. The next it was a survey of Sufi poets. The next it was a diatribe on how the Catholic church mounted a smear campaign against Mary of Magdala. My friend never came back.
Getting people excited about a church is, admittedly, a little bit of bait and switch. Because it is not that I think that Grace is the be-all of churches. Or that going to church is even the point. It is that something remarkable has been happening there. God is kicking butt. People are experiencing transformation. Redemption. Miracles are occurring. Yesterday a man who has been coming for almost two years took communion for the first time. (Maybe he figured if Nguyen could do it, he could too, LOL.) Grace is a community of people who are earnestly seeking to be in deeper relationship with Jesus. So, by inviting people to our beautiful building with our great choir and sweet, funny priests and friendly parishioners, I am actually inviting them to open a door to God. I figure if I try and get them in the pews, God will do the rest.
So, what are you doing this Sunday?
Not the showing-up-on-your-doorstep-talking-smack-about-the-state-of-the-world kind. Not telling my friends that they are destined to an eternity of hellfire and bad food if they don't mend their ways. Not even Jesus is Lord and until you accept that you are doomed.
Nope. I am just inviting people to visit my church. And they have been. And some have stayed. My son's friend mentioned a couple of weeks ago that they were planning to visit the Baptist church in the neighborhood.
"Really?" I said. "What's your mom's number at work?"
At which point I called her and invited her and the family to come to Grace on Sunday.
"I'll swing by and show you how to get there." I said.
They came, and it turned out that long ago, they had been Episcopalians until their parish closed and they never found another church.
They loved Grace. They joined. The kid is now in the middle school youth group with Noah. The teenager is excited about the mission trip this summer. The parents are going to volunteer to make sandwiches for the homeless. They all went up and took communion for the first time in years.
When I talk about my church, I talk about it with such joy and affection, I think people get interested.
A week ago I had dinner with friends and yesterday one of them showed up for the 10am service at Grace. She is a Unitarian Christian who is, I think, coming to understand that there is an oxymoronic element to that. She is longing for the sacraments. She is longing to hear about Jesus in church. She longs to sing his praises. So there she was. Next week she is coming to Lectio Divina before the service.
I loved my UU church, but interestingly, I never invited any of my friends to come with me. Well, maybe once or twice. A lesbian friend checked it out once, but it was the most dour of services. Doom and gloom, like Lent without the uplifting possibility of redemption. Even the hymns that day were like dirges. One of the problems with a UU church is you really never know what to expect. One week it was a sermon on the redemptive elements of Harry Potter. The next it was a survey of Sufi poets. The next it was a diatribe on how the Catholic church mounted a smear campaign against Mary of Magdala. My friend never came back.
Getting people excited about a church is, admittedly, a little bit of bait and switch. Because it is not that I think that Grace is the be-all of churches. Or that going to church is even the point. It is that something remarkable has been happening there. God is kicking butt. People are experiencing transformation. Redemption. Miracles are occurring. Yesterday a man who has been coming for almost two years took communion for the first time. (Maybe he figured if Nguyen could do it, he could too, LOL.) Grace is a community of people who are earnestly seeking to be in deeper relationship with Jesus. So, by inviting people to our beautiful building with our great choir and sweet, funny priests and friendly parishioners, I am actually inviting them to open a door to God. I figure if I try and get them in the pews, God will do the rest.
So, what are you doing this Sunday?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
1 Corinthians
Thank God for the bible. I love reading it. I love studying it. I love living by it.
Lately I have been struggling with myself. I have been obsessing over whether this person is mad at me, or that one thinks I am a jerk. Essentially, I think, it has been a kind of self-centeredness gone berserk. Of course you are cranky because of something I did. Doesn't the whole world, including yours, revolve around me?
So today I was at Bible study with all my dear dear friends and we were reading Corinthians and leave it to Paul to get straight to the point and whack me upside the head.
1 Corinthians 4:3
3 I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. 4 My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. 5 Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.
For me, this means that I need to let God be the one to judge me. Not you. Not my friends. Not myself, even. And I need to be very careful not to judge others.
After bible study, I sat in a pew and prayed for awhile, asking Jesus to let me rest in his peace. In him, I do not fret. I am calm. I am safe. I am free.
Lately I have been struggling with myself. I have been obsessing over whether this person is mad at me, or that one thinks I am a jerk. Essentially, I think, it has been a kind of self-centeredness gone berserk. Of course you are cranky because of something I did. Doesn't the whole world, including yours, revolve around me?
So today I was at Bible study with all my dear dear friends and we were reading Corinthians and leave it to Paul to get straight to the point and whack me upside the head.
1 Corinthians 4:3
3 I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. 4 My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. 5 Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.
For me, this means that I need to let God be the one to judge me. Not you. Not my friends. Not myself, even. And I need to be very careful not to judge others.
After bible study, I sat in a pew and prayed for awhile, asking Jesus to let me rest in his peace. In him, I do not fret. I am calm. I am safe. I am free.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Jesus' baptism
Yesterday during Lectio Divina, we were reading Matthew's account of Jesus' baptism. I read first. Inexplicably, about half way through the reading, I choked up. I just started crying.
Next it was my friend's turn to read. I pulled myself together and tried to understand what had caused my reaction. Since there were only two of us, I read the passage a second time. Once again, halfway through, I began to cry. This time I was nearly sobbing. I had to get some tissues to wipe my nose. My makeup was smeared all over my cheeks. My face turned red.
What in the world happened?
The night before my baptism 4 1/2 years ago, I randomly opened the bible and landed on this very passage in Matthew. At the time, I didn't know what baptism meant. I had asked my minister to baptize me as a symbol of my surrender to God... but did not understand the sacramental nature of what I was doing. I don't think my minister had a clue about that either, to be honest. He knew I was earnest. He believed I was genuinely being called to do this thing. But he had no idea what it really was. We sailed past the whole Jesus issue. Being a Unitarian at the time, it didn't occur to me to specifically talk about Jesus at the baptism. It wasn't until days later that I realized that the made-it-up-as-we-went-along baptism had done something totally unexpected: I was baptized by the Holy Spirit. I became a Trinitarian. I became a Christian. And most importantly, I died and was reborn in Christ, Jesus. I died and was reborn.
Which to someone who hasn't experienced it, sounds a bit off the wall. Maybe even frightening. But to me, it was blissful. Scary at times, especially in the weeks following my baptism. But joyful nonetheless.
Yesterday, when reading the passage from Matthew, the feeling that opened the floodgates was gratitude. And a sense of calm and peace and joy, mixed with a bit of longing, too. John was unworthy, and yet Jesus chose him. I am unworthy, and yet I, too, feel I have been chosen to serve God. Mostly what I felt was a kind of calm that only comes with resting in the presence of God.
Mat 3:13
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John.
Mat 3:14
But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
Mat 3:15
Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented.
Mat 3:16
As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him.
Mat 3:17
And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”
Next it was my friend's turn to read. I pulled myself together and tried to understand what had caused my reaction. Since there were only two of us, I read the passage a second time. Once again, halfway through, I began to cry. This time I was nearly sobbing. I had to get some tissues to wipe my nose. My makeup was smeared all over my cheeks. My face turned red.
What in the world happened?
The night before my baptism 4 1/2 years ago, I randomly opened the bible and landed on this very passage in Matthew. At the time, I didn't know what baptism meant. I had asked my minister to baptize me as a symbol of my surrender to God... but did not understand the sacramental nature of what I was doing. I don't think my minister had a clue about that either, to be honest. He knew I was earnest. He believed I was genuinely being called to do this thing. But he had no idea what it really was. We sailed past the whole Jesus issue. Being a Unitarian at the time, it didn't occur to me to specifically talk about Jesus at the baptism. It wasn't until days later that I realized that the made-it-up-as-we-went-along baptism had done something totally unexpected: I was baptized by the Holy Spirit. I became a Trinitarian. I became a Christian. And most importantly, I died and was reborn in Christ, Jesus. I died and was reborn.
Which to someone who hasn't experienced it, sounds a bit off the wall. Maybe even frightening. But to me, it was blissful. Scary at times, especially in the weeks following my baptism. But joyful nonetheless.
Yesterday, when reading the passage from Matthew, the feeling that opened the floodgates was gratitude. And a sense of calm and peace and joy, mixed with a bit of longing, too. John was unworthy, and yet Jesus chose him. I am unworthy, and yet I, too, feel I have been chosen to serve God. Mostly what I felt was a kind of calm that only comes with resting in the presence of God.
Mat 3:13
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John.
Mat 3:14
But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
Mat 3:15
Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented.
Mat 3:16
As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him.
Mat 3:17
And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”
Monday, January 07, 2008
Strange
Every once in awhile I feel drawn to purge my old notebooks and diaries. A couple of years ago, I threw out my diary from High School. Today, I was looking at my tattered collection of bad poems and adolescent declarations of love from 9th grade with intention of tossing it. My stuff was positively embarrassing.
But in the midst of the schlocky poems and gushing love letters, I found a type written letter to the parents of a friend:
Oct. 9, 1979
Dear Mr. and Mrs. F_____,
I am a friend and somewhat of a confident of your son G. He seems to feel that your punishments are unfair and he is afraid to talk to you about it.
I realize that this is not my business, but I think that G is really depressed. He constantly mopes about in class and feels that everyone is out to get him, which, needless to say, is totally untrue. I think you should have a talk with him about his feelings.
I know G loves you both very much, but I believe he feels a complete communication block. If you could learn to accept him as he is, rather than ask him to be something he isn't, I am sure you would both be better off.
I left the letter unsigned. Apparently I never sent it. It is such a strange artifact of my life as a prep school kid.
My friend G killed himself 4 years ago and though I am certain that nothing I could have done would have ever changed that, it seems that even as a 9th grader, I could see that something was wrong.
Beloved God,
I pray that my friend G is at peace. I pray, too, for his parents, who even now must be filled with grief. And today I pray for all who suffer from mental illness and depression. Give them strength to seek help, Lord. And be with them in their pain.
But in the midst of the schlocky poems and gushing love letters, I found a type written letter to the parents of a friend:
Oct. 9, 1979
Dear Mr. and Mrs. F_____,
I am a friend and somewhat of a confident of your son G. He seems to feel that your punishments are unfair and he is afraid to talk to you about it.
I realize that this is not my business, but I think that G is really depressed. He constantly mopes about in class and feels that everyone is out to get him, which, needless to say, is totally untrue. I think you should have a talk with him about his feelings.
I know G loves you both very much, but I believe he feels a complete communication block. If you could learn to accept him as he is, rather than ask him to be something he isn't, I am sure you would both be better off.
I left the letter unsigned. Apparently I never sent it. It is such a strange artifact of my life as a prep school kid.
My friend G killed himself 4 years ago and though I am certain that nothing I could have done would have ever changed that, it seems that even as a 9th grader, I could see that something was wrong.
Beloved God,
I pray that my friend G is at peace. I pray, too, for his parents, who even now must be filled with grief. And today I pray for all who suffer from mental illness and depression. Give them strength to seek help, Lord. And be with them in their pain.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Poked
We went to the travel clinic at Miriam hospital for our shots for the Vietnam trip. In a word:
Ouch.
I had the worst of it, with 5 shots. (FIVE!)
I got typhoid, tetanus, measles, hepatitis A and the flu shot. Noah was also pretty bad, with three, including the dreaded tetanus, which makes your arm feel like it has a rock in it for a month.
Emmett handled his shots well, but then fainted afterwards, so we had to apply cold compresses and get him sugared up on ginger ale and lollipops. Nguyen had just 2 because his were still good from the last trip.
I have to say that I am starting to get very excited! We leave in 5 weeks and are starting to get all our ducks in a row. I am designating a spot in the guest room to start piling stuff. We have a long list of things we need for the trip, including deet and sunblock, imodium and electrolyte solution. Ear plugs and sleeping pills. Tee shirts and shorts and sandals. (Especially for me, as they won't have size 10.5 in Vietnam, LOL!)
We are beginning to pull together our itinerary, too, with a planned stop in Mui Ne on the way to Nha Trang.
Just can't wait!
Ouch.
I had the worst of it, with 5 shots. (FIVE!)
I got typhoid, tetanus, measles, hepatitis A and the flu shot. Noah was also pretty bad, with three, including the dreaded tetanus, which makes your arm feel like it has a rock in it for a month.
Emmett handled his shots well, but then fainted afterwards, so we had to apply cold compresses and get him sugared up on ginger ale and lollipops. Nguyen had just 2 because his were still good from the last trip.
I have to say that I am starting to get very excited! We leave in 5 weeks and are starting to get all our ducks in a row. I am designating a spot in the guest room to start piling stuff. We have a long list of things we need for the trip, including deet and sunblock, imodium and electrolyte solution. Ear plugs and sleeping pills. Tee shirts and shorts and sandals. (Especially for me, as they won't have size 10.5 in Vietnam, LOL!)
We are beginning to pull together our itinerary, too, with a planned stop in Mui Ne on the way to Nha Trang.
Just can't wait!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Joy to the world! The Lord is come
Did it work for you? Did you wake up on the 4th Sunday of Advent and suddenly realize that the energy was shifting? It was right around Saturday when I began to see the Light at the end of the darkness.
A plan had been percolating in my head: We'd decorate the tree on Christmas eve. I bought a beautiful wooden Nativity set from Guatemala, complete with three cows, three kings and a baby Jesus as big as a cow. The children would unwrap it and set it on the mantle. My brother, mom and friends Tom and Donna were coming over to eat appetizers and light the 4 Advent candles and the wonderfully cheesy votive candle with the picture of the Holy Family I bought in the Spanish section of the grocery store.
It all went as planned. I cooked appetizers and baked cookies all day. Nguyen took a rare day off and helped clean the house and get ready. He chopped cabbage and carrots and wood ear mushrooms for his famously delicious egg rolls. The kids pulled out the boxes of decorations and spent the day stringing lights and hanging ornaments. In the end we had a tree with colored lights on the bottom, white lights on top, and no ornaments above 5 feet up. It turned out to be the most beautiful tree we have ever had.
I went, alone, the 2:00 service at Grace while Nguyen and the kids finished getting the house ready. It was quiet and beautiful. Fr. Rich preached a wonderful, heartfelt sermon that made me cry.
My plan of all appetizers was a hit! The food was delicious and simple. Before we dug in, I read a prayer I wrote. (Inexplicably, I couldn't find my Book of Common Prayer.)
It was a relaxed, funny, joyful and loving evening.
On Christmas morning, Nguyen got up and said "I feel like going to church." and since I was waiting for my family to come back, he went alone.
When my brother arrived, he asked where Nguyen was.
"At church", I said.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
And suddenly, something shifted for my brother. Later he joked about it, calling Nguyen "Bible Boy" and worrying that my husband will try and evangelize him. In all his bluster, though, I know that he was pondering this new turn of events.
Later, when my mom arrived, we made a fabulous breakfast and had a wonderful conversation about religion, politics and just about everything else you aren't supposed to talk about. As I drove my mother to the airport, she said "that conversation was my Christmas wish. That we would all talk and listen and enjoy each other's company."
Seems like maybe we all got our wishes this year.
Praise to you, Lord Christ. Glory to you, Lord Christ.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Seashells
My father and stepmother have a beautiful tradition for Christmas.
Back when my grandfather was alive, he and my grandmother collected scallop shells on the beach near their cottage in Truro, Massachusetts. Grandpa carefully drilled tiny holes at the top and strung them, in pairs, on florist's wire to use as Christmas tree ornaments. They made dozens and dozens of them.
After both of my grandparents died, my father inherited the scallops. Somehow, he and my stepmother came up with a wonderful tradition. Each year they take a sharpie marker and inscribe the names of friends or relatives who have died during the year. Then they spend an evening putting up all the shells that have accumulated over the years. It is a very moving process. One by one, they read the name and talk about what that person meant to them. Plenty of tears flow. (Usually plenty of scotch, too, I think!)
Last year, in Newfoundland, I was part of this for the first time. I came across the name of my friend Gig, who had died a couple years before, during Holy week. And my granny. And other friends of the family. My mother in law. Even beloved pets.
In the midst of the tears, we had such joy at having known them.
Back when my grandfather was alive, he and my grandmother collected scallop shells on the beach near their cottage in Truro, Massachusetts. Grandpa carefully drilled tiny holes at the top and strung them, in pairs, on florist's wire to use as Christmas tree ornaments. They made dozens and dozens of them.
After both of my grandparents died, my father inherited the scallops. Somehow, he and my stepmother came up with a wonderful tradition. Each year they take a sharpie marker and inscribe the names of friends or relatives who have died during the year. Then they spend an evening putting up all the shells that have accumulated over the years. It is a very moving process. One by one, they read the name and talk about what that person meant to them. Plenty of tears flow. (Usually plenty of scotch, too, I think!)
Last year, in Newfoundland, I was part of this for the first time. I came across the name of my friend Gig, who had died a couple years before, during Holy week. And my granny. And other friends of the family. My mother in law. Even beloved pets.
In the midst of the tears, we had such joy at having known them.
Stymied
I admit it. As a Christian, I have no idea what to do with Christmas. Not the religious piece. That part seems clear enough. We are in the midst of a penitential time of introspection and anticipation. We hear about John the Baptist on Sundays and go to confession. We examine our inner darkness and try to clear the way for the coming light. All that makes sense.
What doesn't make sense is how to do that while the world is screaming at you from every corner to
Have fun!!!!
Buy stuff!!!!
Buy more stuff!!!!
On SALE!!!
Back before I was a Christian, I loved the 'out in the world' version of Christmas. Nguyen and I would listen to sappy big band Christmas albums and go shopping at 2 am at whatever store was open. (Zayre's used to stay open all night in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Remember that, New Englanders?) We'd make hot apple cider and decorate the tree.
Maybe all of this is going to happen on Christmas Eve, from now on. As it is, we have had a tree since the Saturday after Thanksgiving... but haven't done anything more than string a simple string of white lights. No ornaments or star. No wreaths on the house. No lights on the bushes. It just doesn't seem right to be doing all that during Advent.
This is all so new to me, this oddball conjoining of the sacred with the profane. What do you, as a Christian, do with this? Your thoughts and comments are welcome!
What doesn't make sense is how to do that while the world is screaming at you from every corner to
Have fun!!!!
Buy stuff!!!!
Buy more stuff!!!!
On SALE!!!
Back before I was a Christian, I loved the 'out in the world' version of Christmas. Nguyen and I would listen to sappy big band Christmas albums and go shopping at 2 am at whatever store was open. (Zayre's used to stay open all night in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Remember that, New Englanders?) We'd make hot apple cider and decorate the tree.
Maybe all of this is going to happen on Christmas Eve, from now on. As it is, we have had a tree since the Saturday after Thanksgiving... but haven't done anything more than string a simple string of white lights. No ornaments or star. No wreaths on the house. No lights on the bushes. It just doesn't seem right to be doing all that during Advent.
This is all so new to me, this oddball conjoining of the sacred with the profane. What do you, as a Christian, do with this? Your thoughts and comments are welcome!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
On the occasion of a Nor'Easter
Beloved,
When sin knocks at the door
Of my heart
Let me keep it closed, shut tight.
When Joy approaches
I will throw open the door
And invite Him in.
When sin knocks at the door
Of my heart
Let me keep it closed, shut tight.
When Joy approaches
I will throw open the door
And invite Him in.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Community
I have been thinking about the ways that God uses community to help us grow as Christians. Increasingly, I am grateful to be a part of a religious community like Grace church.
Being in community with others means that we get to practice being Christians. When difficulties in our own lives arise, we have people who are committed to helping us through them. When we see others in pain, we are called to extend a helping hand to them. It is powerful in both cases.
Nguyen and I have been worried about a congregant at Grace who is battling major health issues. We called his friend last week and invited them to the Wednesday evening Eucharist. They came. When the priest brought communion to my friend in the pew, I was overcome with joy because I felt so sure that he is no longer alone in this struggle. Not only is he bound to Christ with this rite, but all of us are bound together through it. Together, we face his challenges, losses, fears. Together we support him through this painful time.
During Advent, I have been struggling some painful issues of my own. Things that I wanted to hide and keep secret. But gently, God offered me a way to open them up and expose them to the light. He gave me a way out. He gave me a spiritual friend. A Godparent. The sacraments of communion and confession. The words of Thomas A Kempis. A community of people who love me, and whom I love. God gave me all these things to remind me that I never have to struggle alone with my sins and fears.
2 years ago I sat in the Rector of Grace Church's office and told him all the things I disliked about his church. I told him that I was unhappy, but that God was calling me to stay. I confessed that I was none too pleased about it, but that I would stick it out as long as I felt God was asking me to be there.
Yesterday I called him to tell him how grateful I am to be a part of Grace Church's community. Miracles are happening. Love is abounding. Blessings are everywhere. I thanked him for his leadership and his willingness to let the Holy Spirit be in charge.
Miracles are happening.
Thanks be to God.
Being in community with others means that we get to practice being Christians. When difficulties in our own lives arise, we have people who are committed to helping us through them. When we see others in pain, we are called to extend a helping hand to them. It is powerful in both cases.
Nguyen and I have been worried about a congregant at Grace who is battling major health issues. We called his friend last week and invited them to the Wednesday evening Eucharist. They came. When the priest brought communion to my friend in the pew, I was overcome with joy because I felt so sure that he is no longer alone in this struggle. Not only is he bound to Christ with this rite, but all of us are bound together through it. Together, we face his challenges, losses, fears. Together we support him through this painful time.
During Advent, I have been struggling some painful issues of my own. Things that I wanted to hide and keep secret. But gently, God offered me a way to open them up and expose them to the light. He gave me a way out. He gave me a spiritual friend. A Godparent. The sacraments of communion and confession. The words of Thomas A Kempis. A community of people who love me, and whom I love. God gave me all these things to remind me that I never have to struggle alone with my sins and fears.
2 years ago I sat in the Rector of Grace Church's office and told him all the things I disliked about his church. I told him that I was unhappy, but that God was calling me to stay. I confessed that I was none too pleased about it, but that I would stick it out as long as I felt God was asking me to be there.
Yesterday I called him to tell him how grateful I am to be a part of Grace Church's community. Miracles are happening. Love is abounding. Blessings are everywhere. I thanked him for his leadership and his willingness to let the Holy Spirit be in charge.
Miracles are happening.
Thanks be to God.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
The Messiah
It is a spectacular experience, seeing The Messiah live for the first time. It is true that I have gone to Messiah sings for the last few years, but this year we scored tickets to the sold out production put on by the Providence Singers and the RI Philharmonic. It was a gorgeous production.
For me, it was almost like seeing David Bowie for the first time. I actually wept a little hearing my favorite pieces performed live. For years now I have been listening to the Bernstein version of The Messiah on a more or less endless loop in my car. I can sing all the words, I know all the music parts, I play bits of it on the piano. So, when the orchestra began playing Sinfonia, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
Since my children know the score so well themselves, after years of hearing it in my car, I think I will bring them next time. I am sure they will love it.
Thank you Handel.
For me, it was almost like seeing David Bowie for the first time. I actually wept a little hearing my favorite pieces performed live. For years now I have been listening to the Bernstein version of The Messiah on a more or less endless loop in my car. I can sing all the words, I know all the music parts, I play bits of it on the piano. So, when the orchestra began playing Sinfonia, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
Since my children know the score so well themselves, after years of hearing it in my car, I think I will bring them next time. I am sure they will love it.
Thank you Handel.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Wednesdays at Grace
I have already mentioned that we have a beautiful sung service at Grace on Wednesdays. This week I invited my husband, kids and a friend to join me. They did. The kids were remarkably un-squirmy... even when Noah lost a tooth right in the middle of the homily and started bleeding all over the place. It was a heroic effort, but he got through to the end without distracting everyone around us. (The tooth fairy will pay extra for that, I think!)
But here's the thing: Nguyen took communion. I tried not to make too much of a fuss, but truly, I wanted to blubber like a baby when he came up with us. Afterwards I jokingly asked if he felt a lightening bolt from the blue. No. But it turns out he has been praying every day.
I am so grateful.
But here's the thing: Nguyen took communion. I tried not to make too much of a fuss, but truly, I wanted to blubber like a baby when he came up with us. Afterwards I jokingly asked if he felt a lightening bolt from the blue. No. But it turns out he has been praying every day.
I am so grateful.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Advent is upon us.
I am a couple of days late, but today I went to the church supply place here in town and bought some simple purple votive glasses for an Advent wreath. I placed them on a round glass plate scattered with seashells. The candles themselves are white. It is spare and lovely.
I also picked up another copy of the Imitation of Christ. I think that will be my Advent reading for this year. I loaned out my other copy awhile ago and now would like my friend to keep it.
This morning at bible study, we began with the Advent lessons for next Sunday. I read Isaiah 11 and admit, I couldn't get through it without tears.
A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
2The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
3His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
6The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
7The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
8The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
9They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
Lord,
For all you are, for all you have given us, and for all you promise, I am thankful.
I also picked up another copy of the Imitation of Christ. I think that will be my Advent reading for this year. I loaned out my other copy awhile ago and now would like my friend to keep it.
This morning at bible study, we began with the Advent lessons for next Sunday. I read Isaiah 11 and admit, I couldn't get through it without tears.
A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
2The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
3His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
or decide by what his ears hear;
4but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
5Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,
and faithfulness the belt around his loins.
6The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
7The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
8The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
9They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
Lord,
For all you are, for all you have given us, and for all you promise, I am thankful.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Simple gifts
My step mother is in awe of how I manage to throw together a simple meal that tastes good. I don't love cooking, so I often seek the path of least resistance. Thanksgiving was a case in point. Instead of turkey, we had standing rib roast. Preparation for that involved copious amounts of salt and pepper, calculating cooking time on the calculator, setting the oven and the putting it in the oven. No basting. No stuffing. No brining. No covering with cheese cloth or other fancy preparations.
To that we added a green salad, grilled asparagus, baked potatoes, creamed onions, beets, a couple of pies. We all did a side dish, so no one had more than one or two things to prepare. It was a cinch. It allowed us time to do what is more important on Thanksgiving. Drink. Ha! And spend time chatting and taking our time tidying the house and decorating together. It was just laid back and relaxed.
My step father and drumming teacher couldn't make it, so we had way too much food, but leftovers are a wonderful thing, too.
I am thankful that we had a wonderful day together. How was your Thanksgiving?
To that we added a green salad, grilled asparagus, baked potatoes, creamed onions, beets, a couple of pies. We all did a side dish, so no one had more than one or two things to prepare. It was a cinch. It allowed us time to do what is more important on Thanksgiving. Drink. Ha! And spend time chatting and taking our time tidying the house and decorating together. It was just laid back and relaxed.
My step father and drumming teacher couldn't make it, so we had way too much food, but leftovers are a wonderful thing, too.
I am thankful that we had a wonderful day together. How was your Thanksgiving?
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thanksgiving
My parents got in from Newfoundland yesterday. I am so excited they are here. It has been years since we had Thanksgiving together.
I am thankful for so much, this year. Thankful that we are going to Vietnam. Thankful that my mother found a lovely new apartment that she can afford. Thankful I am taking drumming classes. Thankful that my church is a vibrant, loving community. (We had 16 people at Bible study today!?!?!) I am grateful that my children are thriving, and that even in the midst of economic insecurity, Nguyen and I still love each other.
So much.
This Thursday, we are having a small (for us) gathering of 11 people. My father, step mother, mother, former step father, brother, my drumming teacher and my mom's friend. I think I might ask people to share what they are grateful for throughout the meal. And I found a beautiful prayer of Thanksgiving in the Book of Common Prayer that will suit the Muslim, the atheists, agnostics and Christians.
Blessings to all of you, dear readers. I am thankful for you, too.
I am thankful for so much, this year. Thankful that we are going to Vietnam. Thankful that my mother found a lovely new apartment that she can afford. Thankful I am taking drumming classes. Thankful that my church is a vibrant, loving community. (We had 16 people at Bible study today!?!?!) I am grateful that my children are thriving, and that even in the midst of economic insecurity, Nguyen and I still love each other.
So much.
This Thursday, we are having a small (for us) gathering of 11 people. My father, step mother, mother, former step father, brother, my drumming teacher and my mom's friend. I think I might ask people to share what they are grateful for throughout the meal. And I found a beautiful prayer of Thanksgiving in the Book of Common Prayer that will suit the Muslim, the atheists, agnostics and Christians.
Blessings to all of you, dear readers. I am thankful for you, too.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
God's Work
I have been gently, periodically inviting Nguyen to communion since we have been going to Grace. Two or three times he has come to the rail with us. In each case he has crossed his arms in front of his chest to receive a blessing.
Last night I told him about the priest at the Wednesday evening service. He shared as to how he invited his friend to take communion, even before he was baptized. His friend, for a couple of years, took communion. Then one day decided to be baptized.
I did it the other way around. I got baptized first. But at my baptism, I didn't intend for it to be a Christian thing. I did not recite a creed or agree to anything. I just surrendered myself to God and invited him into my life to do whatever work (lots) needed to be done. God took me up on my offer, sent Jesus knocking at my door and within a few days of the big dunk, I was a born again Christian.
My point is this. There are rubrics. There are guidelines and rules about how these things ought to happen. And then there is God's way. Which cannot be contained by the rules.
I was telling this to Nguyen last night because I think he wants, on some level, to take communion... but is afraid that he doesn't 'believe' enough to qualify. That, to me, is like thinking you need to be healed before you can take the medicine that will save you. Jesus was surrounded by doubters for his entire ministry on earth. I'd wager that MOST of his priests in the world have some levels of doubt at some points in their ministries. (correct me if I am wrong, anyone.) So, no. I do not believe that you have to sign a form or know what you are doing or put your thumb print on some cosmic agreement. I believe you simply have to be willing to open your heart to Jesus and let him invite you to the table. You are taking the body and blood of he who has saved the world into your physical self. It will heal you, whether you believe it or not.
Last night at Grace, a mentally ill, ex con homeless man took communion. He is delusional. He often just lies down and falls asleep in the pews. He stuck his finger into liquid pool of wax in the candle burning in front of him and traced a white wax cross on his forehead. During the service he sat muttering to himself. Who knows if this guy has been baptized. Who knows what is going on in his head. But God knows that he needs His love. His mercy. His tenderness. God knows he needs to take Jesus into his life.
I have taken communion three times in a Roman Catholic church. The first two times, I wasn't even a Christian. I didn't know the rules. I was attending church with friends and just walked up and received.
Then, a year ago, at the Christmas eve service in Newfoundland, I went to church with friends and took communion. I know it broke the rules. I'd normally not do such a thing. But the idea of Christmas without it was so unbearable I simply couldn't not do it. I called the priest ahead of time and put him in the incredibly uncomfortable situation of having to tell me yes or no. At the time, it was respect for the church that motivated me to make the call. Now I wonder if really, it is just between me and God. I think next time I'll let the priest off the hook. (He said yes, by the way, even knowing it was against the rules.)
Here's the thing: Is it possible that those times I took communion were the beginning of my conversion? Can it be that the body and blood of God seeped into my soul and began it's work, years before I was to finally accept Jesus? Did God take my hubris (or ignorance) and use it to good? It can't be an accident that I remember, 15 or 20 years later, the exact moments of communion.
I know that you, my readers, have differing opinions on this. Comments are welcome.
I pray for all those who have not yet received. Open their hearts, O Lord.
Last night I told him about the priest at the Wednesday evening service. He shared as to how he invited his friend to take communion, even before he was baptized. His friend, for a couple of years, took communion. Then one day decided to be baptized.
I did it the other way around. I got baptized first. But at my baptism, I didn't intend for it to be a Christian thing. I did not recite a creed or agree to anything. I just surrendered myself to God and invited him into my life to do whatever work (lots) needed to be done. God took me up on my offer, sent Jesus knocking at my door and within a few days of the big dunk, I was a born again Christian.
My point is this. There are rubrics. There are guidelines and rules about how these things ought to happen. And then there is God's way. Which cannot be contained by the rules.
I was telling this to Nguyen last night because I think he wants, on some level, to take communion... but is afraid that he doesn't 'believe' enough to qualify. That, to me, is like thinking you need to be healed before you can take the medicine that will save you. Jesus was surrounded by doubters for his entire ministry on earth. I'd wager that MOST of his priests in the world have some levels of doubt at some points in their ministries. (correct me if I am wrong, anyone.) So, no. I do not believe that you have to sign a form or know what you are doing or put your thumb print on some cosmic agreement. I believe you simply have to be willing to open your heart to Jesus and let him invite you to the table. You are taking the body and blood of he who has saved the world into your physical self. It will heal you, whether you believe it or not.
Last night at Grace, a mentally ill, ex con homeless man took communion. He is delusional. He often just lies down and falls asleep in the pews. He stuck his finger into liquid pool of wax in the candle burning in front of him and traced a white wax cross on his forehead. During the service he sat muttering to himself. Who knows if this guy has been baptized. Who knows what is going on in his head. But God knows that he needs His love. His mercy. His tenderness. God knows he needs to take Jesus into his life.
I have taken communion three times in a Roman Catholic church. The first two times, I wasn't even a Christian. I didn't know the rules. I was attending church with friends and just walked up and received.
Then, a year ago, at the Christmas eve service in Newfoundland, I went to church with friends and took communion. I know it broke the rules. I'd normally not do such a thing. But the idea of Christmas without it was so unbearable I simply couldn't not do it. I called the priest ahead of time and put him in the incredibly uncomfortable situation of having to tell me yes or no. At the time, it was respect for the church that motivated me to make the call. Now I wonder if really, it is just between me and God. I think next time I'll let the priest off the hook. (He said yes, by the way, even knowing it was against the rules.)
Here's the thing: Is it possible that those times I took communion were the beginning of my conversion? Can it be that the body and blood of God seeped into my soul and began it's work, years before I was to finally accept Jesus? Did God take my hubris (or ignorance) and use it to good? It can't be an accident that I remember, 15 or 20 years later, the exact moments of communion.
I know that you, my readers, have differing opinions on this. Comments are welcome.
I pray for all those who have not yet received. Open their hearts, O Lord.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
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