A Picture And A Poem

I wanted to share my favorite picture from vacation, and a new poem, by Jane Kenyon. I just discovered it in a collection called Otherwise. Jane Kenyon died of leukemia in April of 1995.

Here's her poem:

Happiness

There's just no accounting for happiness,

or the way it turns up like a prodigal

who comes back to the dust at your feet

having squandered a fortune far away

And how can you not forgive?

You make a feast in honor of what

was lost, and take for its place the finest

garment, which you saved for an occasion

you could not imagine, and you weep night and day

to know that you were not abandoned,

that happiness saved its most extreme form

for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never

knew about, who flies a single-engine plane

onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes

into town, and inquires at every door

until he finds you asleep midafternoon

as you so often are during the unmerciful

hours of your despair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.

It comes to the woman sweeping the street

with a birch broom, to the child

whose mother has passed out from drink.

It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing

a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,

and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots

in the night.

It even comes to the boulder

in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,

to rain falling on the open sea,

to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

From: Otherwise, by Jane Kenyon

copyright 1996 by Graywolf Press

Anniversary

Thirteen years ago today I was ordained into Word and Sacrament ministry at my home congregation. My talented, artistic sister designed a card (see left).

Thirteen years. Seems unlucky. I'll have a big celebration at fifteen.

There was a time in my life when it would have been hard to imagine doing the same thing for so many years. I worked in investments for two. Then went to Japan for three. Then worked in insurance for four and a half. Went to seminary for four. Now it seems like I have finally settled down. I even got married.

It's still an adventure, though. Preaching, teaching, being with people at all stages of their faith and doubt, listening to questions, not always having answers, equipping saints and seeing them in action: it's still an adventure.

Of course there is the routine of worship and preaching, the blessed liturgy of weekly visits to the nursing home and to hospitals, the late night meetings deciding what to do about the roof, or the boiler, but in the midst of it, there are the moments of light: the conversation of leaders revealing their own hopes for their congregation; the tight grip of a hand during prayers, the holy moment when teenagers laugh, and cry, and belong to one another. It's still an adventure.

Recollected in Tranquility

Red Squirrel


he dashed in and out
like the White Rabbit
late for an important date

from his bird house perch
he stared at us
darted back inside to get his watch
or his ring
or perhaps a piece of bread

then daring us he
leapt away like
a stunt aviator

we caught our breath
while he
caught the flying trapeze of
pine branch in his way

he fled without stopping to
hear our applause

Saturday

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day. It was also the last day to be North. Today I am back home, although technically still on vacation.

We checked out and drove down to the Canal Park area of Duluth. It's a great dog area of the city, and it was even better, as they were hosting a dog show at the Convention Center. The Park was full of dogs, of all shapes and sizes, including two large, beautiful Great Danes the size of horses! We walked the "lake walk" a bit, stopped for cheese curds and hot dogs at Crabby Dan's, and met many dogs and their people. Scout sniffed every bush, tree, piece of grass and lamp post she could find, as well as the tail end of quite a few dogs. We are finding that dog people are, for the most part, about the friendliest people in the world.

(No offense to cat people. You just can't find them so easily out walking their cats. They're usually at home, reading the newspaper or a good book with their cats. And their cat is usually sitting right on the part of the newspaper they want to read.)

We also stopped in at a couple of our favorite antique stores. They both allow dogs, which is one of the reasons we like them so much. I found a wonderful old children's book of Bible verses, called "The Wings of the Morning." But they were asking $25.00. I wasn't sure that it was that special.

Then we started the long, sad drive home.

We stopped at a flea market where they were not so friendly about dogs.

At home, I didn't remember that I had left the house so messy. The flowers hanging in the front yard looked just a little wilty. The dining room table had disorganized mail and books I decided not to bring and a few other stray papers. The kitchen still had a large cardboard box with styrofoam peanuts. A couple of Scout's balls were hanging around the floor.

Welcome home.

Rainy Night

It's a quiet, rainy night to be sitting in our room. I'm blogging (obviously) and Husband is practicing the guitar. So I'm glad he brought the guitar. (Venezuelan Waltz #3 by Antonio Lauro)

Niece M. has gone back to Minneapolis with grandma and grandpa. She had fun yesterday. I think she even had more fun today. We didn't even need the "paint toenails" backup plan.

We got up to Tettegouche State Park this morning (see picture from 2 days ago). Went down to the beach (lots of steps, hard for us, easy for M. and Scout). She asked to take the leash and ran ahead with the dog. She took off her shoes and rolled up her pants and waded in the cold lake water. On the other end of the hike was Shovel Point, and more running with the dog.

Then we returned to the hotel to meet grandma and grandpa, have homemade sandwiches and go up to Gooseberry Falls together. This is a series of three small waterfalls. It's very shallow at the bottom, with lots of big rocks. People like to try to walk across the rocks to get to the other side of the falls.

M. wanted to take the dog across. She got about halfway, too, but Scout started to pull and get a little tangled in the leash, so we thought it better to bring her back to the shore. M. stepped across the stones to the other side by herself, and was very proud of herself.

Then, she wanted me to do it with her.

Which I did. Even though I am kind of a wimp about things like this. M. took my hand a couple of times. I lost my balance once or twice and got really wet shoes and socks. But we both made it across to the other side of the waterfall. On stepping stones. Together.

It took some strategy to find the right rocks, the ones that were strong and sturdy and didn't wobble. And it takes some trust and humility to reach for a hand when you've chosen the wrong rock, one that won't bear your weight.

It's little things like this, though, that teach us how to live.

We stopped for pie on the way back. Poor Scout howled the whole time we were in the restaurant. M. came out to comfort her.

Scout is going to miss M. I think M. will also miss Scout.

It's raining harder, with thunder and lightning. Scout wisely decided to move away from the window. The music continues.

More fun, very tired

Okay, so we didn't go to Tettegouche State Park yesterday. Instead we went to Split Rock Lighthouse, pictured here. (I just wrote about three paragraphs and lost all of it, don't know why). We toured the lighthouse, heard stories about shipwrecks, heard the foghorn (my niece covered her ears). Saw pictures of storms where the waves came up above the rocks. Heard about the 29 shipwrecks in one year. The Song "the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot, is about a wreck on Lake Superior. We also got rained on trying to find Pebble Beach (finally found it).



We didn't go to Tettegouche, because we just kept driving and driving, trying to get up to Grand Marais in time to eat at Angry Trout Restaurant. It's an all organic and local place right on the pier. And I mean all. Everything they serve is locally produced, even the strawberry I stole from my niece's plate (can't let anything go to waste!). We walked around Grand Marais for awhile, and then took the long (too long) drive back to Two Harbors.


Grand Marais is an arts community, with lots of art galleries and shops selling handmade jewelry and crafts. They are having an arts festival this weekend, but looks like we aren't going to head back up there! Anyway, it's just a fun place to be.

This morning I got up early and took the dog for a walk and out to the lake. The sun was just rising and it was peaceful and beautiful. There are thousands of wildflowers everywhere, white sprays and golden petals and pink purple and orange dots and splashes. If we were to go farther north, past Grand Marais to Grand Portage, I'm pretty sure we'd see wild lady's slippers too.

Vacation so far so good

We arrived here in beautiful Two Harbors (just north of Duluth along the North Shore of Lake Superior) late afternoon yesterday afternoon and settled into our room here. We found out about this place about three years ago when I was invited to preside at the wedding of parish members here. They have regular rooms, suites and even lake homes. We have a regular room, not even with a lake view, because that would be too expensive up here. But the lake is just out back, and we spent some time out there in the evening, Husband teaching niece M. to skip stones out on the lake. She is not bored yet.

Scout and M. are bonding quite nicely. I have a picture of both of them, sitting together out under the tree in our front yard, waiting for us to go. M. wants to hold the leash, which is ok, except when Scout decides to ... dash off! M. also likes to brush Scout, which she could definitely use more often.

On the way up we made the obligatory stops at Culvers for burgers, at Hinkley's Antique Mall, and at the Canal Park in Duluth, where there was a brief torrential downpour. We drove up the skyline parkway, and climbed up Enger Tower, which I know nothing about, but which affords a nice view of the big ships coming into harbor, and the suspension bridge coming up.

Of course, as well there was the car music ambience, so important to a musician. We listened to: Jazz on the Road, a two CD set of jazz standards (in one of the coolest "jackets" I have ever seen). Also of course, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and James Taylor were traveling music.

After skipping stones until it got good and dark, and walking with Scout along the water, we were good and tired. M. watched a missed TV episode on the computer, I began the highly recommended mystery In the Bleak Midwinter, but was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open.

I have always wanted to do things like this with my nieces and nephews, but for some reason mostly, it hasn't worked out. I did have my oldest niece and nephew stay with me in South Dakota for a week once when they were very little. I'm glad finally to have the opportunity.

For a few minutes, watching Husband encourage M. in her stone-skipping technique, I wondered what it would have been like to have children of my own.

It felt good.

With any luck, sometime today we'll be able to stop in at Tettegouche State Park. It's a little drive, but a beautiful hike, and looks something like the picture above.