Dogs, divorce and dings

    This week I'm thankful for moments of levity. Lately there has been a lot of stress in my life and the lives of my loved ones. So I was grateful to be able to do silly things this weekend, like enter a costume contest with my dog (and even win a prize). There's nothing wrong with a little silly sometimes, and I thank God for it.

SS

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“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, 

so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”

                                                                                              Joseph Campbell

Living Well Post-Divorce

Ah, the holiday season, chocked full of Hallmark commercials of holiday bliss. I’m trying to prepare myself for the onslaught of images of loving couples with perfectly mannered children. It’s too bad we can’t air brush reality.

Or is it?

I went with a friend recently to a noon day session at The Center for Women about living well post divorce. The speaker, a quote collector like myself, brimmed with positive reaffirming statements calling the period just after a divorce a “fertile void” that begs for recreation of yourself. It’s messy in the middle, she tells us. “You have to become lost enough to find yourself.”

She encouraged us to use reframing statements. Instead of happily ever after, it’s happily even after. It’s not a broken family. It’s a redefined family. I sigh inwardly, but have to admit how many people I know who have used divorce as a journey to authenticity and peace. I recently visited Jack London State Park in Sonoma Valley and looked at the picture of him with his second wife, who “got” him. Having had sad parts in his childhood, I rejoiced that in his short life he connected with someone with as an adventurous spirit as his own, who didn’t get burned by his meteoric glow.

(His quote in the photo above, in case it’s too hard to read:

“I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.”)

DB

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    The walls were showing ten years of dings and dirt, ten years of a life full of teenagers, friends, and family gatherings.  It was time for a spruce up.  I scrubbed the walls down, cleaning off an absurd amount of dirt, dust and cat hair. I spackled a few scrapes and nail holes and then did some light sanding.  Then  - a new coat of paint.  The walls looked fresh and better than new - unmarred, unblemished. 

   I often find myself in need of some spackle and sanding for my own self. How nice if it were that easy to clean the dings and dents out of our own hearts! I cling to old hurts and losses and spend too much time dwelling on past mistakes. I need to spackle the holes, sand down the mistakes and remember that with each new morning, I get a fresh start, a clean slate, a whole new wall to write on or paint anew and even ding up all over again.

AF

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Happy Easter!

     High and holy moments happen in my life  - but very rarely during Holy Week and Easter. I can count on the holiest week in the Christian calendar being one of only partly controlled chaos.  After 28 years of being married to a minister, I know there will be extra sermons to prepare, special services to attend, and always a pastoral care crisis or two in the mix.  We usually have extra family and friends visiting - which just adds to the general sense of pandemonium.

     So, the traditions that blend ritual with family become holy for me.  We invite our family/friends to Easter dinner in the evening - not at lunch.  I gave up that craziness years ago.   We dye eggs at the last minute on Saturday so we can  “fight” Easter eggs on Sunday.  (There’s not enough room in this post to explain -you just have to experience it.)  And then there’s the annual Easter photo with whatever children and family are home.  This picture is from last year at Easter.  

     Throughout the crisis and the chaos and always on Easter,  the Holy is present -  in the laughter. 

AF

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Easter Sunrise 2011 Edisto Beach

       The kids humor me on Easter. It's our family tradition to rise early in the dark and go to the beach to watch the sunrise. No one is allowed to gripe or complain, though it's fine to stagger around groggy. We all get to the beach and spread out, and come together, and spread out, in waves, processing the scene in our own ways. I love watching the light overtake the dark in a quiet spot, the wind and waves our music, the sermon speaking in our hearts. I used to enjoy a fancy, Easter service, but I find at this stage of my life, in what is a period of healing, I need an intimate sanctuary on this day.

      We arrive at the tomb of loss expecting grief, and behold, comes joy, unbidden. It never ceases to amaze me.

DB

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     During this Holy Week, I have been doing a lot of reading and a lot of chaplaining, and the two have definitely affected one another. Earlier in the week, I read Diana Butler Bass's Good Friday reflection and it stayed with me. Bass quotes the ancient saint Julian of

Norwich: “Here saw I a great ONEING betwixt Christ and us: for when He was in pain, we were in pain.” The reverse is also true, Bass asserts. "Jesus on the Cross, naked and mocked, is with us all on every broken-heartened, betrayal-laden, blood-soaked day of human history.  That is God’s Passion; that is Jesus’ Cross.  And, in the tortured Christ, we find the hope to endure, a love for others and creation, the power to enact God’s dream of love and justice for the whole world.  We are with God.  God is with us."

     This with-ness, this ONEING between us and Christ was at the forefront of my thoughts during my nights this week in the hospital where I am chaplain. That was particularly true when I was with the family of a young patient who died. "Could you pray with the mother and offer her some words of encouragement?" another family member asked me. I spoke

to her out of the Christian heritage we shared, and the insight that Diana Butler Bass's words had renewed in me. Speaking her child's name, I told her, "_____ was not alone in this. Jesus has been through death before, and so he can take our hand and lead us through it when that time comes. _____ was not alone; Jesus was right there. And he

will be with you, too, in the hours and the days ahead. He was a man of sorrows --"

     "Acquainted with grief," she finished the quote from Isaiah 53, one of the Old Testament passages that New Testament writers later used to describe Jesus. I hurt for this mother, and wished that I could take her grief away, wished I could undo the death of her child. The best I could do was be with her, and testify to God's being with her as well, remembering that in the suffering of Good Friday, God became one with those who suffer. And that is no small thing.

SS

And it's 2012 already!

A blessing for Elli

The first day of 2012 brought a special joy for me in my work as a hospital chaplain. Death and grief are much more common in my job, so this was a welcome change to begin the new year. Some friends of mine had come to the hospital in the waning days of 2011 expecting their first child, and after 30 hours in which her mother gained a whole new understanding of the word "labor," Elliott Virginia came into the world. She is, in a word, perfect. I started my first shift of 2012 by holding her, feeding her, and rocking her to sleep. She gave me the blessing of a tiny smile and wrapped her long fingers around my thumb. Then I got to do one of my favorite tasks as a minister. I spoke a blessing for Elli that went something like this:

Elliott Virginia, may God bless you with kindness and wisdom, creativity and strength, bravery and faith and beauty, in this new year and for many, many, many years to come. May you bring joy to God, your family, and all of us who love you, as we do our best to help you become the woman God created you to be, all the long years of your life.         Amen.

SS

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I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose.  ~Woody Allen

      I hear them laughing even though I'm in my office upstairs.  Our youngest daughter, Savannah, and her dad, Don, are laughing uproariously downstairs.  They both have the gift of loud, raucous, out of nowhere, belly laughs.  It could be something on TV.  It could be the face Savannah just made, a story, a one-liner, who knows?  The laughter blesses our house and my life as little else can do.  Laughter lights the darkness, cleanses the soul, and fills up a house.
       Savannah heads back to Furman University tomorrow for her final semester as an undergraduate.   She has been home for the holidays, working on grad school applications, sleeping late,  visiting friends and, of course, telling stories and laughing.  We will miss the laughter when she is gone.
      I turn off the light in the office and head downstairs.  I think I'll join them.

AF

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Last sunrise of 2011,  Myrtle Beach, SC

      It goes something like this.

      I'll come home and say something like, "I'm sure you all have done all your homework."

      One child will pipe up and answer that's "inconceivable!"

      And then another chimes in, "Do you even know what that word means?"

      For anyone who's a fan of the classic movie Princess Bride, no explanation is needed. Otherwise the preceding is just nonsense. What I love about ritualistic exchanges such as this is that it marks us a tribe with our secret code. It's a sign of intimacy - a moment to break from the routine or homework or whatever the issue is at hand and go off on a nonsensical tangent. That's one of my resolutions for 2012. More nonsensical tangents to thwart the over thinking, analytical side of myself that takes life too seriously.

      I told my family on our New Year's break to Myrtle Beach the story of a friend who found her Christmas marred by a contentious family member. She and others decided not to let this person's issues pull them down, so they used the word Duck anytime things got tense. Ducks just let the water roll off them and don't get pulled down by its weight. I shared this with the boys just as we were driving past Dick Pond going to Myrtle Beach. I'm not making this up. Needless to say the conversation deteriorated from there, but whenever things got tense or someone was irritable, someone would shout Duck, and we'd start snickering.

      I have my spiritual prompts that have the same effect. As I was walking the beach to see the last sunrise of 2011 and feeling a bit melancholy, a word unbidden rose above the mental chatter.

      Grace.

      More for myself. More for others.

     Just like that, the one word broke the spell of tension. I returned to the present moment with a deep breath. I opened to the new year.

     In the words of my friend, 'Happy New Year. Be the duck.'

DB