Life in Lent

I've been working on my very first sock, using this great Swedish yarn that makes me want to make sweaters, even though it's about spring and nearing the end of knitting weather. I've turned the heal, and am headed toward the toe. It's going to be a thick "house sock"; there's no way it will ever be able to be worn with shoes; but it's great to learn on.

It's not as easy as you might think to throw away, or somehow get rid of one thing every day. A couple of things were no brainers: an old black wool skirt that has unrepairable tears, a pair of shoes which never fit me, an old coat which doesn't fit anybody. But, it's easy to get behind. Someone expressed a sense of awe that I could find 40 things to get rid of, but the reality is, there are probably many more than 40 things I have that I could probably live without.

I'm reading Olive Kitteridge for book group. I've also begun reading a book called Transforming Congregational Culture, by Anthony Robinson. I just saw this one quote on Facebook, and got really really intrigued. I've been zipping right through it, underlining and circling many things.

I had to buy a new phone today. oh-uh. My phone froze. Then it died.

We are leaving for Arizona on Monday, a week's vacation during Lent, and I don't think I have one pair of shorts that fit me. There's a topic for reflection.

And I'm taking Scout to day care tomorrow, probably for the last time this season. The weather is getting warmer, and it will be easier for us to make sure she has the required amount of exercise.

So, I called to make sure she had a spot this afternoon, and the woman who answered the phone said, "We might be full." She put me on hold for awhile, and when she came back on the line, she asked, "Which Scout is this?" I told her my name, and after another pause, she said that she needed to find out which play group Scout was in.

Play group?

Living For Jesus

I went to visit my dad at the hospital today. He went in Sunday night with pneumonia. I didn't sleep very well last night. I was a little worried about him.

He wasn't on oxygen today; his bed was set low toward the floor. At first, I don't think he knew who I was. He commented about my glasses (thought they were nice) and said the problem with having two daughters was....

I couldn't find the nurse, so I didn't know how he was coming along. I saw a note that he might be going back to the nursing home today, but no one seemed to know if that was the case or not. He crooned a little of the song that drove me crazy when I was a kid, "Smile for me, my Diane." I hated it when he would sing that song for me.

We said the Lord's prayer together, and because he was having some trouble following the conversation (and this made him upset), I decided to start singing "Living For Jesus," the old gospel song.

He knew all the words.

Apparently, he knows this song better than he knows "What a Friend we have in Jesus."

After awhile he thought he had to get up. I had to persuade him that this was not a good idea. He kept talking about trying to get to "the other side". Maybe singing "Living for Jesus" made him think that he needed to get to it -- living for Jesus, being a disciple.

"Living for Jesus a life that is true/striving to please him in all that I do"

I've been thinking a lot about that: living for Jesus. It's Lent after all, and time to meditate on what we are living for, time to turn around and see if our values and our actions and our words match, or not.

Singing the song with my dad, I thought about living for Jesus. Being a disciple for my dad meant caring about his work, his family, going to church and singing the hymns (and the baritone part on the three-fold amen). It meant being kind, and firm, and trying to teach his children what was important. I think a lot of his faith had to do with music.

"Living for Jesus a life that is true", you spend your whole life singing. Then one day your daughter tells you you can't get up any more; you have to stay in bed because your legs are too weak. And the nurse has to bring you water and you drink from a straw because you might spill. And you wonder what your life has been.

And if you are fortunate, you might realize that you have been carried your whole life, carried and fed and given water when you were thirsty. You might realize that every day you lived for Jesus, every ordinary and heroic thing you ever did was really a gift, that the power to live is the power of the Holy Spirit, deep inside.

Living for Jesus a life that is true...

Something there is that seems to love a wall...

I teach a Saturday morning men's Bible study on Saturday mornings. We're reading Luke now. When I say "teach", I mean this rather loosely. Though I have been known to hold forth on occasion, for the most part this is a conversation rather than a lecture.

And we do venture off-topic once in awhile. A couple of weeks ago, for example, one of the men brought up an article he had read about one of our more well-known (and conservative) congressional representatives. He said he learned the term "cognitive dissonance" for the first time, discussing the term and the congresswoman with his son. I believe that the issue at hand was that she was against funding for programs from which her family benefitted, as they were parents to several foster children.

Basically, the writer of the article did not understand the Congresswoman, something our table discussed. One of the men ventured this opinion as to why not, "Liberals think that all charity should come from the government."

Now this statement was jarring at first for several reasons: first of all, I was sitting right there, and I consider myself rather liberal, although not in such a way as to insinuate that those not of my political persuasian could not possibly by Christians. And I'm pretty sure that I don't think that "all charity should come from the government." So I wondered why this gentleman should think this way. I do disagree with this gentleman's politics, although I consider him to be (of course) a brother in Christ. I'm sure he does not get this opinion from his conversations with me. I can think of plenty of private charities I endorse and even contribute to.

So, my first thought was, it must be all those conservative authors, the ones with names I won't even mention (why give them any more P.R.?) If he talked to me, he might find out what I really think, which has less to do with ideology (I thought) and more to do with a program's effectiveness. Some people think that a private charity is always more effective; others think that a public/government program is always more effective and appropriate.

Why is it that he might be more interested in his opinions about liberals from conservative authors rather than a real liberal?

Why is it that I might be more interested in getting my opinions about conservatives from entertaining liberal authors rather than a real conservative?

Those were my first thoughts.

Then I went a little further, and considered the word "charity". I also considered, if we really had a deep and respectful conversation with one another, that he and I had different ideas about the line between "charity" and "justice." For example, I think some government help for the poor is really a justice issue, not about charity, because I think that there are many cases where the playing field is not level, and some people start out with a disadvantage, and there are others who definitely start with a big advantage, who benefit from the system the way it is. He might be absolutely certain that anytime there is help for anyone, it is charity, not justice, because justice means that those who work hard get to reap the benefit.

I'm not sure that this is ever a divide that can be fully bridged.

However, the Bible's idea of justice might be a place to start. I suspect this justice (and this mercy) might challenge both of us.

"What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God."

things that make you go hmmmm....

Before I posted a couple of Mondays ago about the ELCA's policy regarding gay and lesbian clergy, I had 73 followers in Google Reader.

The day after I posted, I had 72.

It's not a big deal, it's only one Reader, but still, it gave me pause.

It's February here. Still. Which means that even though it was slushy and warmish for a few days last week, it has dipped below zero again and will be cold all week. I don't know why I am always fooled by the early thaw, but I am. And the older I get, the less patient I am. I want it to be Spring.

We saw a lot of birds yesterday. I didn't get a close look, but I think they might have been mallard ducks. Also, our dog's hair is coming out in tufts. So there are two sure signs that spring will come.

In a couple of weeks, we'll be going to Arizona. In the middle of Lent. I can't believe that I'm doing this. But, I kind of like it.

I have a lot on my mind lately. I want to post more often here, and more deeply, but I often feel that I can't quite get my whole mind around my thoughts.

Here are some of the things I've been thinking about lately:
1. Being in the desert during Lent.
2. The Centered Life- our Lenten Wednesday series.
3. What does it really mean to have a Passionate Spirituality, a la the "Natural Church Development" definition?
4. Why conservatives and liberals prefer to hold on to pre-conceived prejudices rather than talk to each other.
5. just how brilliant Jesus' answers to the devil really were....
6. the big political battle between the governor and the legislature in my state over General Medical Assistance for Poor people. I am wondering if people in other states are following this at all....

God is Still Creating...

This morning I had six fourth graders and their parents for a class on the Apostles' Creed. It's a lot to cover in an hour and a half, and I think the Holy Spirit got short shrift (she nearly always does), but we had a good time, starting with the name tags.

Everyone wore three name tags. We talked about different names we have, nicknames, roles we take, and how we are not three different people. We talked about different uniforms we sometimes wear at different times, a sports jersey, a school uniform, a suit and tie, a bathing suit. We talked about how God comes to us in different ways, too.

Everybody got an apple, and the parents cut it in half. The young people tried to think about the parts of the apple, and also the different "persons" of God. They got to imagine that God the Father is like the ______ of the apple because_______________. There were no wrong answers, just good imaginations.

Afterwards, we got to eat the apples.

There is a beautiful piece of art in the room where we met, an artistic rendition of the Apostle's Creed. We stood in front of the art piece for awhile, reciting the creed, and talking about some of the words we didn't understand.

We drew pictures of stories from the Bible about Jesus. We each drew a picture of a story about something Jesus did that ISN'T in the creed.

My favorite part of the class, though, just lasting a few minutes, was when we talked about God the father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.

What are some of the things that God created?

bears, snakes, giraffes, flowers, cats, birds.......us.

"Us," one little girl said.

"yes, us," I said. "God didn't just create along time ago. God is still creating, and when you look in the mirror, you can see...."

".....a creation of God."

When you look at a snake, when you look at a bird, when you look at the grass, when you look at a star, when you look at your sister, when you look at your brother,

When you look at yourself, you can see.... a creation of God.

And you know what? It was a sermon to me, too.

a Belated Update Regarding Reading

Early in January (while I was still on vacation, to be specific), I reported that I had dispatched my first two books of the year rather quickly, the final Maisie Dobbs mystery, Among the Mad, and The Art of Racing in the Rain.

While lying on the beach, I also read The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, a lovely book which is a combination memoir and history of bookstores. You would not think that bookstores had a fascinating history. But they do. I also read The Florist's Daughter, by Patricia Hampl. Ms. Hampl is a rather famous (locally) memoirist; this is I think, her best. It is framed by her mother's death, and deals in what is means to be the child of her particular two parents, her Irish mother and her debonair Czech father. This book made me really think about what it would be like to write a memoir of my own. (The TV Repairman's Daughter?)

Then I had a colossal failure: I did not finish reading our January book club book, The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. I still feel bad about that. It was slow in places, but after our discussion, I think I will try finishing it, someday. (It's a literate Dracula novel.)

Then I treated myself to the latest Spencer Quinn mystery, Thereby Hangs a Tail.

Finally, I re-read the book we'll be following during Lent: the Centered Life, by Jack Fortin.

I'm working on Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult, right now.

so. 6 1/2 is my official count, so far.

Taking Out the Garbage as a Lenten Discipline

This morning, Ash Wednesday, when I got up to take the dog out for her morning walk, I realized that we had forgotten to take the garbage out last night.

What a coincidence. This is Ash Wednesday. It is also garbage day.

In the wintertime, taking out the garbage involves a few more steps than it does at other seasons of the year. For one thing, I often have to kick the garbage can a couple of times because the lid freezes shut. We also have to wheel the garbage can through the snow past one or two cars parked in the driveway. I have become an expert at the graceful "swoop" down as I wheel the can past the rear view mirror.

This morning, I spent a little extra time going through bags, deciding what else could be "garbage" and what I might want to save. There are a few things that are clearly useless. There are a few things that "might come in handy." There are a few things that should not ever be considered garbage.

So, this morning, as I was kicking the garbage can to loosen the lid, and as I was sorting stuff and considering what was valuable and what was not, I considered as well that this was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.

What would be a good Lenten discipline this year?

One friend of mine has an exercise plan in place. It sounds guaranteed to change her life, or at least help her lose a few pounds. A teenager I know always gave up soda. Another friend refrains from chocolate. One year I gave up buying (not reading, just buying) books. The Mayo
Clinic Diet book, which I recently bought, sounds positively Lenten to me these days. The very beginning pages tell about 5 New Habits to Develop and 5 Habits to Drop. Sounds exactly like the twin disciplines of Lent: giving up something (fasting), and taking up something.

And yet, I can't help thinking about taking out the garbage as a Lenten discpline, starting at the beginning, with kicking the can. Sometimes you have to do that, you know. Sometimes your life is just frozen shut, and nothing new can happen unless you kick it a couple of times.

Then the discernment begins; what is valuable in my life, and what is "garbage"? What things "might come in handy someday" and why do I think so? Is it true? Where does the true value of my life lie? And in the midst of it all, I remember these words:

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

During Lent this year, I will throw away, or somehow get rid of, one thing every day.

I'll let you know, occasionally, how it's going.

How about you?