thanksgiving

Today is my 45th Thanksgiving.  If I try to look back at them, they run together.  Into a stream of happy memories and trusted traditions.  Mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie.  Dad's personalized pilgrim face name cards. Mom's Alpine Casserole.  Turkey Trots.  Raspberry-Cranberry Jello.  Trips to California and to Maryland. Pecan pie.  Matt and Jenn's red dining room. Martinellis.  Hiking at Bent Creek.  Stuffed mushrooms.  Being full and grateful.

In all those forty-five Thanksgivings, 3 distinct memories stand out.  And they are my only negative Thanksgiving memories. Why these?  I don't know. But they ring clear as a bell, make me smile, and remind me so much of what Thanksgiving is all about. 

1.  Football?
I remember being little and loving the I Love Lucy marathons that were on all Thanksgiving day.  I remember Mom cooking and Dad and I watching and laughing.  This was a great holiday tradition and one that I would always enjoy.  Until that one year when Matty reached the age of TV opinions and I found Dad and him watching football.  Which I found irritating and confusing.  Why would any one want to watch football on Thanksgiving?

2.  Nothing?
I remember being a sophomore in college.  My boyfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving break.  I remember sitting around a bountiful table, loaded with delicious food.  I was surrounded by my precious family. And when it was my turn to share what I was thankful for I could think of absolutely nothing.  Which is what I said when asked.   "Nothing." (yes, I was a teenage girl.  And yes, a few years later that boy asked me to marry him and has spent the last 24 Thanksgivings with me...)

3.  Non-traditional?
I remember being a young married couple.  It was our first Thanksgiving alone.  And three days before Thanksgiving we had had a miscarriage. We were grieving and out of place and not feeling festive.
Thanksgiving morning when we woke up, we found a brand new mountain bike propped against our front door.  Steve's good friend was loving us the best way he knew how - with gifts and hobbies.  We decided to go see a movie and picked what looked like a romantic comedy.  Meet Joe Black.  It turned out to be a strange, awful death/afterlife story.  We stumbled out of the theater disturbed and decided to redeem the day by making a traditional meal.  Which is when we learned that a frozen turkey at 3:00 pm will do no one any good on Thanksgiving. We had delicious sandwiches with our bubbly.

Strange little dark spots in a sea of good memories. Funny now.  But so filled with the truths that make Thanksgiving so special.

Thanksgiving is about connection and love, not about being the center of the universe.   
           Be generous!
We are surrounded with blessings whether we are thankful for them or not. 
          Be grateful!
The spirit of Thanksgiving goes way beyond traditions or centerpieces or smiles.  It is knowing that nothing can separate us from the love of God.  It is hope.  
        Be graced!

Happy Thanksgiving!

main thing

In my last post I described my short lived career in ziplining.  After hiking back to the lodge, I huddled in the heated conference room and looked out the floor to ceiling windows at the forest below.  I was still trying to get warm.  Still trying to adjust to the fact that I hadn't finished the course.

I had only been there about thirty minutes when four students from my team walked in.  My son and three friends.

"How are you back so soon?"  I asked.

"Too cold."  "Not that fun." "We'd had enough" they answered.

"How far did you go?"  I asked.

"To the 4th platform. That one had steps.  So we walked down and hiked back."

I wanted to say "No!!!  I didn't have a choice to keep going.  You did.  It was supposed to get warmer. You should have hung in there. You needed to finish."

We had about two hours to wait for the rest of the group to reach the end and return.  I worried that they would come back triumphant and adventurous and my four would feel unfinished and slackerish. That they had wasted their ticket prices.  That they had missed out on the main thing we came here to do.

And then I watched them.

Sitting on oversized chairs on the covered porch.  Overlooking the forest.  Drinking cup after cup of the  hot chocolate the lodge provided for free. They were laughing and talking nonstop.  Telling stories and jokes.  Totally enjoying each others company.  Clearly no place they'd rather be.

They'd tried the expensive, thrilling adventure.  It was fine.  Hanging with their buddies at camp was better.  So maybe this was the main thing. 

Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out what the main thing is. 

     Company is coming over and I'm organizing the shoes in the back of my closet instead of vacuuming the living room.
    Settling out my weights, yoga mat and exercise clothes the night before and then turning off the alarm at 5:00 am and going back to sleep.
     Finding myself cranky and snapping at the boys while I am cooking dinner so we can all sit lovingly around the table.
     Missing the main thing....

I guess I'm not the only one.  Stephen Covey writes that “Most of us spend too much time on what is urgent and not enough time on what is important.” 

Jesus wrote about it too. Seek first the Kingdom of God and his Righteousness.  And all these things will be given to you as well.  Matthew 6:33

I will this morning.  Early.  Curled up on my cozy chair.  Hot chocolate in my pink bunny mug. Worship book in my hand.  Starting with the main thing.

bucket lists

One of my bucket list items is to make a bucket list.  I can't believe I don't have one.  I love lists!  I have a huge imagination and love to dream.  I get so excited hearing about other people's lists and what they have checked off.  And I keep starting my bucket list:
*See every square inch of Ireland
*Write a book
*Visit all 50 States
*Recover my dining room chairs
*Clean my bathroom
*Make sure Josh practiced the trumpet today. Oh dear,  I'm sliding into another list.

This month I got to do two things that would have been on my bucket list if I'd had one.

Josh's class had a week of outdoor ed and on the last day they went zip lining.  As they talked about zipping through the trees I realized that I have always been intrigued by this.  It sounded so adventurous and fun.  I immediately volunteered to chaperone and join in.

And it was awesome.  A huge, modern/rustic building and outdoorsy staff welcomed us in to get into our harnesses.  They talked us through the swinging through the treetops, platform by platform down the mountain. Total bucket list worthy.

But... It was 23 degrees outside.  We stood on the first platform for over 30 minutes learning the ropes and waiting our turn.  I had dressed in layer upon layer.  Yet my hands and feet grew numb with cold.  I was the last one in our group to go.  My heart was pounding as I stepped off the platform.  Nothing prepared me for the speed and freezing air that made my eyes water so badly that I couldn't see the instructor motion for me to get in landing position.  So I hit the endzone unprepared and swung around wildly for a moment.  "There is no way I am going to survive this day" I thought to myself, while I smiled and told the class what fun I was having.

Once I got my footing on Platform 1 I found out that one of the students already there had been badly shaken by the zip.  I looked in his eyes and realized that enough was enough for him.  The instructor radio'ed back to base that they were sending him back.  Then the instructor turned to me and said "you will have to go with him."  Wait!  I'm in the middle of a once-in-a-life time bucket list experience.  I can't stop now.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  To be relieved or disappointed.

So they rappelled the two of us off the seventy foot platform.  Had I ever thought to put rappelling on my bucket list I could have checked that off too.  We hiked back to camp.  We told each other that we had indeed zip lined. And on the longest and steepest run.  So I guess that's a check.

My friend Daina gave me her last session of acupuncture when she moved to Honduras.  I have always been curious about the whole idea of paying someone to stick you with needles.  And heard miracle stories of the effectiveness of this treatment.  It should have been on the bucket list.  So I made the appointment.

I met with the needle lady.  She did a through background check of my medical background.  Asked all kinds of interesting questions.  She talked about my blocked chakras and energy fields.  Then she stuck tiny needles into corresponding "blocked" areas - my forehead, my hand, my legs and between my toes.  That one hurt!  I laid quietly listening to soothing music and unblocking, hopefully.

And then it was over.  I don't think you can judge much from one session.  I'm also not sure when another  $70 needle stick will make it to the top of my to do list.  So I guess that's a check too.

I learned a German proverb while I was in Spartanburg.  Nacher is jeder klug.  In English it means "Afterwards, everyone is smart." It's like "well now you know." Not every thing you do will change your life.  But you don't know til you try.

I still want to make a bucket list.  And keep adding things retroactively so I can reappreciate my adventures.

Seeing The Lost Colony play on the Outer Banks with my parents and family should have been on my bucket list.  It was awesome!  Unforgettable.  Check.

Making the Martha Stewart Pumpkin Bread Pudding for Thanksgiving that I have been eyeing for a year.  eeehhh.  Once was enough.  Check.

Now I know...

cat pee and refuge

Homebody.  Noun. A person who enjoys the warmth and simple pleasures of being at home.  

I am the total definition of a home body.  I love a day where I don't have to leave at all. I could spend weeks puttering, organizing, rearranging, cooking, touching up....

At the end of a long day I can't wait to get home, get the fire going, watch HGTV while I unload the dishwasher and tidy up my little refuge.  My house reflects my tastes and my priorities.  It is filled with my treasures and my necessities.  It is my ultimate comfort zone.

So you can imagine my displeasure to arrive home last week and smell a very awful smell.  Cat pee.  Maybe the worst possible smell.  I quickly checked the litter box. Clean.  I followed my nose to a corner of the living room carpet.  Damp and stinky.  After three years of mr. kitty being immaculately house trained what could have possible gone wrong?  I got out carpet shampoo and spent my first hour at home scrubbing the floor.

The next day I could still smell it on arrival home.  I steam-cleaned the carpet.  My chairs were all piled up and the table was scooted against the wall.  The fan was on full blast making my living room feel like The North Pole.

The room smelled fresh and clean for a couple hours.  But I woke up the next morning and could smell pee.  I lifted the rug to see multiple dark spots.  How long has this been going on?

The next day I went to Pet Smart.  I bought dog and cat spray to clean carpets and keep animals far away.  Back at home I doused and scrubbed and aired and dried.  I was desperate to have my peaceful aromatic refuge back.

In the midst of this frustration, I was also preparing a sermon. I was studying 1 Samuel 22 about David who was also looking for refuge.

In Eugene Peterson's wonderful book Leap Over A Wall, he writes about this.

"In David's prayers refuge refers to a good experience, but what got him to refuge was a bad experience.  He started out running for his life; and at some point he found the life he was running for, and the name for that life was God.  "God is my refuge"

This happens all the time: it's one of the fundamental surprises in spirituality.  Whatever we start out feeling or doing or thinking can lead us to God, whater directly or meanderingly.

Whatever our ingredients - a messy house, a flat tire, a cranky boss, late homeowrk, another fill.  There are good ingredients too - fall colors, warm smiles, strong hugs, dear friends.  Whatever the ingredients they can lead us to God."

In this line of thinking, the smell of cat pee ruining my house should remind me that God is my real refuge.  If I'm spiritually mature enough to go there. 

Until I've reached the level I'm ripping out the carpet.  I want my house back. 

burning bushes

I love autumn!  The break in humidity.  Cool mornings. Soup. Return to routines. Pumpkins and hot apple cider.  And here in Asheville the riot of color - golds and reds - that marks this season and bring the tourists flocking in.

Today I drove past a tree that was so flaming red that it was almost unbelievable.  I wanted to stop and take a picture.  But I was in a hurry.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes about reverence.  

"Reverence requires a certain pace.  It requires a wilingness to take detours, even side trips, which are not part of the original plan. I can stop what I am doing long enough to see where I am, who I am there with, and how awesome the place is.  I can flag one more gate to heaven - one more patch of ordinary earth with ladder marks on it - where the divine traffic is heavy when I notice it and even when I do not.  I can see it for once, instead of walking right past it maybe even setting a stone or saying a blessing before I move on to wherever I am due next." 


Taylor talks about Moses having this kind of reverence.  Exodus 3 says
Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. ³ So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.” And Moses said, “Here I am.” ⁴ When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”

Moses' willingness to stop and notice the burning bush led to him having an unexpected experience with God and started him on a life changing path.   How many burning bushes/flaming trees have I rushed past this week.  How many God encounters have I breezed over?

Taylor quotes one of the wise women in Alice Walker's book The Color Purple.  "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."

This makes me smile.  It is not the picture I have of God, but I think it is a good reminder to be on the lookout for those beautiful, flaming red, autumn trees. 

closet full

This weekend a good friend is getting married.  We are making a quick trip to Maryland for a mini reunion/wedding.  So for the last couple of weeks the drum solo in my head has been beating out "go-to-the-store-buy-something-new-to-wear" over and over.

There is a myth that I've bought in to for a long time.  That the outfit I need to make me feel thin-energetic-successful is just waiting at a store for me.  Probably on sale.

But I have a closet jammed with clothes.   Some I love, like presents from my stylish, pro shopper Mom.  She takes time to consider flattering fit and wearer's delight. Some are hand-me-downs, practical pieces that are now part of my every day rotation.  Some I've grabbed, running through a store, because they were soft or a pretty color and only $6.00 on clearance. I've got lots of pieces, so many clothes and yet I'm still waiting for something else.

This summer I put a ban on more shopping.  I got strict with myself.  "Go to your closet."  I said.  "Dig deeper.  Be creative.  Stop thinking it's out there.  Find it in here."

The day of Jake's graduation, deep in my closet, I found a green and raspberry floral shell.  It was two years old, tags still on and beautiful.  I didn't have anything to wear with it.  Except a raspberry sweater that I bought a year ago and wear all the time.  Put them together with my white pants and I had a new party outfit.

A couple months later I was packing for my trip to California.  The one thing I was missing was a pair of nice, dark-ish pants to wear on the plane.  I kept thinking I would get to the store, and then found just what I needed at the bottom of my summer box, clean and folded since last year.

Yesterday I found an emerald green sweater to brighten my gray and black outfit and fight the chilly fall air. It was in a bag, bought on clearance during humid, hot days and tucked away.  It looks great with a multi-colored scarf I've had for years.

I need to trust that the closet is adequate. In so many ways.  Not just with clothes.  I find myself panicking about being equipped for my new job.  That what will make me feel thin-energetic-successful as a principal are the classes I can't take until next year, or the books I haven't finished reading, or the review I will get from my boss. The drum solo beats "you-don't-know-what-you-are-doing. You-are-in-over-your-head."

Then I look inside.  I realize that chaplain months in emergency waiting rooms with families, swallowing pat answers so I could hear their pain, is just the tool I need with frustrated parents.  Drawing out shy hospice patients is surprisingly not that different from drawing out shy 6th graders.  Plotting a sermon series uses many of the same skills that creating an art curriculum takes.  And leading an interdisciplinary team is a lot like leading a faculty meeting.

When I start to freak out I have to get strict with myself. "Dig deeper.  Be creative.  Stop thinking it's all out there.  Find it in here." I may be a brand new principal, and I can't wait to have more experience, but there are some good things in the closet.

I think about Elijah, looking for God outside of the cave, in the wind and fire and earthquake.  But God was inside the cave, Elijah's closet, whispering quietly to him.

So it's back in the closet for me.  To listen to God's quiet voice, to trust in my journey, and right now to find something to wear with a purple lacy J Crew skirt for the wedding.

blue -part one and two

Part one:  Once upon a time I had a blue office.  It was a really cool office, with tall windows, a square black table-desk, and two beautiful blue walls.  I loved this office.  I loved the color and the space.  I loved to sit at the table, look at the mountains and write and plan and think.  

Then I lost the office.  

After a while I started working at Spartanburg Hospital.  I had a cubicle.  And I was very thankful for the cubicle.  I hung a blue picture on the wall and learned to chaplain and chart and bare my soul.

Fourteen months later I became a hospice chaplain in Buncombe County.  I didn't have an office but I worked from my blue car.  I was so happy to be back in Asheville.  I visited and comforted and prayed with my patients.

I loved my work.  But it was hard and sad.  Sometimes, in the quiet of my bedroom or while driving back roads I would dream about someday having an office again.  With blue walls like the one I had lost.

I found out about the Principal job, interviewed and accepted it within one weekend.  I didn't even think about it coming with an office.  And then I walked into my new space and saw blue walls.  In that moment I felt God's personal, redeeming love with such force that I could hardly breathe.


Part two:  My blue walled office had been inhabited by a string of men.  It was very utilitarian.  There was a huge leather couch that took up half the room.  A third of the room was used for storage of various boxes and supplies. There were five different styles of chairs in one room.  I didn't care.  It had blue walls.

But I did call my friend Angela.  Angela is one of those friends who will sit in your living room and chat with you for hours.  And she will never wince at the dust piling up on the piano, or mention the door knob that has been broken for 36.5 months, or point out the slip-covered chair that once was white.  She is just restful and calm and friendly.  Until you call with a decorating emergency.  And then mild mannered Clark Kent turns into Super Decorating Woman.  You haven't had fun until you've watched dainty Angela move huge pieces of furniture back and forth across a room. Or balance on a chair to hang a picture.  Or sweep the room with her laser eyes before coming up with the perfect solution.    She is my hip fairy god decorator.   She took one look at the office and said "well, the couch has to go." And I knew things were going to get good.

She showed up with bags and furniture.  She brought chairs from her basement.  She found a beautiful table and lamp, a colorful rug, pillows, and a blue mosaic mirror.  Lots of rearranging and artistic perspectives later and my office is bright, welcoming, feminine, beautiful and.... blue.  I still cannot believe that this amazing room is my office!

I love this quote from C.S. Lewis about restoration and rebuilding. I can't read it without tearing up, because it reminds me that what Angela has done for my office, God is doing with my heart.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” 
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity