Mrs. Marple's sleuthing has brought results. She has delivered winter. The bubblers have just been installed around the docks, and Lake Mac is beginning to freeze. Soon we hope to see the bald eagles fishing near our shore.
Snow is silently falling. Zoe (our Yorkie) and I headed out this afternoon just as it began. She wore her bright red coat, but it was soon polka-dotted with snowflakes. To her delight, the sidewalks had just been plowed, and she was able to get traction on the wintry surface. Still, I wonder if some black boots would help her. By the time we returned home, we almost had white-out conditions over the lake, the opposite shore barely visible.
Yes, winter has finally arrived. The temperature has fallen. I rejoice in the stark beauty of the leafless trees and the firs enrobed in ermine. God has kissed the earth with Her frosty breath. All is well.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
What does the New Year mean to you?
The Christmas presents have been unwrapped, the feast eaten, and a new year commences. What happens? We change calendars and perhaps start exercising and eating healthy. In addition, by the time the champagne cork has popped, most of the Christmas decorations have been taken down. The Babe has only just come to bring Light to the world, and all we see are Christmas tree and outside light displays disappearing, quickly packed and stored. Did the Christmas message get put away too?
As we turn the page to a new year, do we still carry in our hearts the real Gift we received at Christmas, or does Jesus return to Sunday worship and the pages of the Bible? Instead of making resolutions, as Christians, we are called to transformation. To become like Christ. To love God and people. To be joyful. It's a lifetime journey, maturing in the faith. It's about believing and acting on the belief. It's about making things better for other people. So let's keep that "Goodwill toward all people" attitude year round.
Below are a prayer and a benediction for the new year. I hope they will be as meaningful to you as they are to me. Wishing you a blessed 2012.
Below are a prayer and a benediction for the new year. I hope they will be as meaningful to you as they are to me. Wishing you a blessed 2012.
12/28/2011 1:30 PM 
O God of infinite creativity . . .
At the beginning of this New Year – winter for so many – the rich brown earth is even now preparing to burst forth with a spring of possibilities and new life.
Though the human eye cannot see it, you continue to bless the earth with new beginnings.
We praise you!
Bless us with new beginnings, we pray.
Where we have lost sight of your Reign breaking in – even now at hand –
Renew our vision.
Where we have faltered in reaching out to our neighbor in love, missing the moment to extend a hand of wholeness,
Renew our courage.
Where we have allowed cynicism to dry our bones and sinews,
Renew our hope.
At this beginning of a New Year, dear God, our arms are still warm from cradling the Babe of Bethlehem.
Help us to keep that memory strong.
Strengthen our arms to welcome your many children into communities of love.
Prepare our hearts to burst forth with a spring of possibilities and new life.
Stir us to be and share your love with the same vulnerability, the same humble expectation that brought you into the world in person.
Help us, your church, your disciples, to be harbingers of your reign of justice and of peace fully emerged.
O God of infinite creativity, at the beginning of this New Year, we know that you are about to do a new thing. Help us to perceive it. And to join in.
In the name of Jesus, your greatest new beginning, we pray.
AMEN
The following is A New Year's Benediction
Devotional writing by Roy Lessin, DaySpring, from his blog: Meet Me In The Meadow.
May the coming year be one of increased riches of grace—hearing His voice more clearly, knowing His heart more deeply, resting in His love more fully, trusting His care more completely, walking His pathway more peacefully, knowing His presence more intimately, blessed by His goodness more abundantly.
And in all things, may you know the shalom peace of God—encouraging you to move forward, empowering you to boldly take each step, greeting you as you turn a new corner, calming your heartbeat as you walk through dark valleys, softening each footstep as you climb rugged mountains, and increasing your courage as you follow your Shepherd wherever He leads.
You crown the year with a bountiful harvest; even the hard pathways overflow with abundance. The grasslands of the wilderness become a lush pasture, and the hillsides blossom with joy. Psalm 65:11-12 NLT
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A Calendar
Neither Santa nor one of his elves left a wall calendar under the tree, perhaps because there was no tree! We had three really interesting calendars for 2011. The one I kept at my desk featured God’s word with daily scripture readings and beautiful pictures focusing on one color each month. The one on our refrigerator had the weeks of the year arranged according to the liturgical calendar and actually began with Advent of 2010. The third we kept at Howard’s End and had been purchased in France. Each week started with Monday, and the weeks were organized in a vertical rather than horizontal configuration. All of this variety reminded me that there are a lot of ways to think about a year based on culture and religion. This week I’m going shopping to find new wall calendars (most of them now ½ price), but I haven’t decided on my themes. Will I choose something spiritual, something humorous, something reflecting our love of travel?
Whatever I choose, each must have space for marking all the celebrations for those we love. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Births. I notice, not only in my life but also in the lives of others, the cycle of life and the march of time. How can my college roommate have a son in his thirties who already earned a masters degree and traveled the world? How can my beloved stepchildren be the chronological ages of how I actually feel inside? Where have all of those years gone, and why does it seem that time speeds up as I mature? Sometimes it’s troubling to think about, but I was blessed with an entirely different perception of time at the Christmas sermon we heard in Paris.
We attended a contemporary service Christmas day at the American Church, and the preacher talked about the most important gifts we can give to one another, not the ones from Chanel or Dior. One that he mentioned was time--taking the time to visit with or help others in a relaxed and unhurried manner. He reminded us that as Christians we don’t have to time-slot all of our interactions. We have an unlimited amount of time, an eternity. This was a message I needed to hear, and a way of life I need to live.
My new calendars? For me, they will mark time but not define it. My time is unlimited. When you call and ask if I have time to talk, the answer will be “yes.”
Whatever I choose, each must have space for marking all the celebrations for those we love. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Births. I notice, not only in my life but also in the lives of others, the cycle of life and the march of time. How can my college roommate have a son in his thirties who already earned a masters degree and traveled the world? How can my beloved stepchildren be the chronological ages of how I actually feel inside? Where have all of those years gone, and why does it seem that time speeds up as I mature? Sometimes it’s troubling to think about, but I was blessed with an entirely different perception of time at the Christmas sermon we heard in Paris.
We attended a contemporary service Christmas day at the American Church, and the preacher talked about the most important gifts we can give to one another, not the ones from Chanel or Dior. One that he mentioned was time--taking the time to visit with or help others in a relaxed and unhurried manner. He reminded us that as Christians we don’t have to time-slot all of our interactions. We have an unlimited amount of time, an eternity. This was a message I needed to hear, and a way of life I need to live.
My new calendars? For me, they will mark time but not define it. My time is unlimited. When you call and ask if I have time to talk, the answer will be “yes.”
Monday, January 9, 2012
Yoga
Is yoga supposed to be an aerobic activity? The advertisement mentioned breathing and poses and went on to say that “Hatha yoga practice is designed to rejuvenate the spirit, invigorate the mind, strengthen the body, and open the heart.” H-m-m-m, sounded beneficial and doable.
It was amazing how many people showed up for this yoga opportunity. It was a good deal. You paid what you could afford ($5.00 suggested), and each month the money is earmarked for a charity. January’s is allocated to the Crisis Nursery. The room was more than half-full when my friend and I arrived. There were men and women, most in the 30-50 age range. The older guy behind me looked like a Harley Hog rider complete with tattoo. He probably thought I looked like Miss Piggy.
As “virgins” we were without yoga paraphernalia, and our instructor, Steve, led us to the community supplies--mat, blocks, and rug. On the ride over I had told my friend to wake me up if I fell asleep, as I was anticipating a lot of deep breathing and mediation while lying on a mat. My sole prior yoga experience consisted of doing the sun salutation along with Jane Fonda (VHS 1994--her braid is priceless). I was in for a surprise. Steve had run through all of my Jane Fonda moves in a half-hour, and there was still an hour of instruction to go. And what was with that Hara Krishna music in the background?
In the beginning, I was amazed that I was still as flexible as I am since I haven’t been doing much in that area. However, some of the poses we tried later on I hadn’t done since ballet class in grade school! In my wildest dreams I can’t imagine doing the crow or crane (I’m scared of birds anyway) or ending the session with an inversion pose. Not going to do a headstand. No. Instead, I ended the class on my back with my legs outstretched up on the wall. The stereo was sending out sounds of the ocean, and I had on a soothing aromatherapy eye pillow. After a while my respiration and heart beat retreated from the red area, and finally I was truly relaxed. Stress free. Ready for the week to come.
It was amazing how many people showed up for this yoga opportunity. It was a good deal. You paid what you could afford ($5.00 suggested), and each month the money is earmarked for a charity. January’s is allocated to the Crisis Nursery. The room was more than half-full when my friend and I arrived. There were men and women, most in the 30-50 age range. The older guy behind me looked like a Harley Hog rider complete with tattoo. He probably thought I looked like Miss Piggy.
As “virgins” we were without yoga paraphernalia, and our instructor, Steve, led us to the community supplies--mat, blocks, and rug. On the ride over I had told my friend to wake me up if I fell asleep, as I was anticipating a lot of deep breathing and mediation while lying on a mat. My sole prior yoga experience consisted of doing the sun salutation along with Jane Fonda (VHS 1994--her braid is priceless). I was in for a surprise. Steve had run through all of my Jane Fonda moves in a half-hour, and there was still an hour of instruction to go. And what was with that Hara Krishna music in the background?
In the beginning, I was amazed that I was still as flexible as I am since I haven’t been doing much in that area. However, some of the poses we tried later on I hadn’t done since ballet class in grade school! In my wildest dreams I can’t imagine doing the crow or crane (I’m scared of birds anyway) or ending the session with an inversion pose. Not going to do a headstand. No. Instead, I ended the class on my back with my legs outstretched up on the wall. The stereo was sending out sounds of the ocean, and I had on a soothing aromatherapy eye pillow. After a while my respiration and heart beat retreated from the red area, and finally I was truly relaxed. Stress free. Ready for the week to come.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Round Up
Round Up. No, I’m not at a Dude Ranch, I’ve been out spraying all of the weeds growing between the bluestone tiles. Yes, the last couple of days, I’ve been working in the garden trimming back vines and perennials and raking flower beds. The butterfly bushes are sporting all green leaves, the clematis is in bud, the bulbs have broken through the ground, and the perennials are dressed in several inches of new growth. Clearly there is some confusion.
I remember the pansies were in bloom last January, but the entire garden didn’t look like spring had sprung. This 50-degree weather has the neighbor children pulling the cattail heads apart and spreading the white fluff on the ground for snow.
Where is winter? Where is my chance to hibernate by the fire with a good book? Ecclesiastes promises to everything there is a season…. I live in Illinois. We have four seasons. One of them is missing. Is this a case for Miss Marple?
Not all of this is bad. Yesterday Bob and I had the opportunity to chat with almost all of the neighbors. We get lonely for them in the winter when we all huddle in the warmth of our homes. We even discovered there’s a new dog on the block.
Still, there is just something not quite right about gardening in January. In the Midwest, this is the time for daydreaming, perusing seed catalogs, and finally planning the riotous beauty to flower in the summer. It’s the most important time for the gardener, and she shouldn’t be holstering a pruning tool while she’s doing it!
I say enough of this global warming, El Nino, shifting currents or normal variability. I want cold. I want snow. I want winter. Have you found it yet, Miss Marple?
I remember the pansies were in bloom last January, but the entire garden didn’t look like spring had sprung. This 50-degree weather has the neighbor children pulling the cattail heads apart and spreading the white fluff on the ground for snow.
Where is winter? Where is my chance to hibernate by the fire with a good book? Ecclesiastes promises to everything there is a season…. I live in Illinois. We have four seasons. One of them is missing. Is this a case for Miss Marple?
Not all of this is bad. Yesterday Bob and I had the opportunity to chat with almost all of the neighbors. We get lonely for them in the winter when we all huddle in the warmth of our homes. We even discovered there’s a new dog on the block.
Still, there is just something not quite right about gardening in January. In the Midwest, this is the time for daydreaming, perusing seed catalogs, and finally planning the riotous beauty to flower in the summer. It’s the most important time for the gardener, and she shouldn’t be holstering a pruning tool while she’s doing it!
I say enough of this global warming, El Nino, shifting currents or normal variability. I want cold. I want snow. I want winter. Have you found it yet, Miss Marple?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Lady Madonna
'Read at least one book a week' is the advice that Stephen King gives to writers. His recommendation has changed the way I allocate my time. I have been freed from the guilt I used to suffer from using my time “unproductively.” In fact, I feel like I have been given the keys to a Little Debbie delivery truck and told all the treats are calorie-free.
However, I have become very discriminating in my reading, enjoying mostly memoirs, since that is the genre I am most interested in from a writing point of view. But I do occasionally sneak in one of the many novels I’ve ordered from Amazon that are stacked on the bookshelves like soldiers at attention calling to me like Circe. This tantalizing title, Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Schoemperlen, became my most recent choice.
Imagine having a woman dressed in a blue raincoat and Nikes appear in your living room, identify herself as Mary, Mother of God, and ask if she can stay for a week’s rest. This is what has happened to the narrator, a single, middle-aged, non-Catholic woman who is a writer. Amazingly enough, their week together is quite low-key, however, Mary does tell of some of her miracles, and the narrator tells us of many more. But that isn’t all.
The meaning of life, the evil in the world, faith, mystery, time, reality and history are just some of the philosophical topics that the author addresses in a very readable and yet thought-provoking manner. Her reflections and soul-searching lead us to do the same.
What would you do if a woman carrying a suitcase and a purse appeared in your house claiming she was the Virgin Mary? Think about it. Then pick up this book and be prepared to be transformed.
However, I have become very discriminating in my reading, enjoying mostly memoirs, since that is the genre I am most interested in from a writing point of view. But I do occasionally sneak in one of the many novels I’ve ordered from Amazon that are stacked on the bookshelves like soldiers at attention calling to me like Circe. This tantalizing title, Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Schoemperlen, became my most recent choice.
Imagine having a woman dressed in a blue raincoat and Nikes appear in your living room, identify herself as Mary, Mother of God, and ask if she can stay for a week’s rest. This is what has happened to the narrator, a single, middle-aged, non-Catholic woman who is a writer. Amazingly enough, their week together is quite low-key, however, Mary does tell of some of her miracles, and the narrator tells us of many more. But that isn’t all.
The meaning of life, the evil in the world, faith, mystery, time, reality and history are just some of the philosophical topics that the author addresses in a very readable and yet thought-provoking manner. Her reflections and soul-searching lead us to do the same.
What would you do if a woman carrying a suitcase and a purse appeared in your house claiming she was the Virgin Mary? Think about it. Then pick up this book and be prepared to be transformed.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Labor day and a birthday
Labor Day, once called “a workingmen’s holiday,” originated out of workers’ protest over the 12-hour working day/7 days a week, low wages, and unsafe and unhealthy working conditions. Today it’s a celebration of the achievements and contributions American workers, male and female, make to the social and economic strength and vitality of our country.
Labor unions have been targeted by the politicians and public as evil and the source of all things wrong with our current economic conditions. But, as our country was moving from an agrarian to industrial society, it is through these labor unions that American workers came to have the wherewithal to purchase the goods that they were making. Something we need to remember today! And, it was because of the labor unions that our children are free to attend public schools, to become the educated populace necessary for a democratic and economically progressive society, instead of toiling in mines, factories and mills for pennies a day.
When we remember how and why this holiday came into being, can we as consumers in good conscience continue to buy products based solely on cost? Can we without embarrassment buy clothing that has been manufactured on the backs of child labor? Is it moral to buy electronics or sneakers or toys from companies that don’t pay their workers a fair wage and don’t provide safe and healthy working conditions for them? What would happen if our buying habits changed, and we wouldn’t purchase products from labor-unfriendly companies? Yes, the price of some products we desire may increase, however, so will competition, which can influence price, employment, and quality. And, better yet, the global pool of consumers with the means to purchase products and services from a wide variety of sources will grow and add to the economic viability of many countries.
Many think the need for labor unions is long passed, but look at the migrant workers in our country who toil outside labor laws. They put in 12 to14-hour days/7 days a week of hard physical labor, exposed to pesticides and dangerous equipment. They are low paid, uninsured, and suffer poorer physical health and have a shorter life expectancy than the general population. Their children often work by their sides but aren’t reported on the farmers’ books. The delicious tomato, peach, or mushroom you eat today may have been planted, tended, and harvested by one of these dedicated workers. You and I spend less of our money on food than any other country in the world. Now you know why. When will our migrant workers be included in Labor Day?
Fareed Zakaria’s blog entry, “Hey, America: Take a Vacation!” that he shared on his Sunday television show reminds us that the American worker is working too many hours on too many days every year. The average European worker gets three times more vacation days than the average worker does here and uses a higher percentage of those days. The average number of vacation days an American worker receives: 13. The average percentage of those used per year: 57%. H-m-m-m, do I see a possible solution to our high unemployment?
But, in fact, all the above is a mere digression from my true subject for this 5th day of September. This is the 60th birthday of my friend Muffy, and, in celebration, she and her cousin are kayaking the shores of the Upper Peninsula in girlfriend solidarity. Muffy has known me longer than any other non-relative and knows the true me, the one who imagined my doll was really a baby, and I was the teacher of a classroom of young students my age. She is an amazing and brilliant woman, well-described by the words of this post dedicated to strong women from Arlene’s Facebook wall:
I am strong because I know weakness,
I am compassionate because I have experienced suffering,
I am alive because I am a fighter,
I am wise because I’ve been foolish,
I can laugh because I have known sadness,
I can love because I’ve known loss.
I send her my love on this day, and I hope it will be just as special as she is.
Labor unions have been targeted by the politicians and public as evil and the source of all things wrong with our current economic conditions. But, as our country was moving from an agrarian to industrial society, it is through these labor unions that American workers came to have the wherewithal to purchase the goods that they were making. Something we need to remember today! And, it was because of the labor unions that our children are free to attend public schools, to become the educated populace necessary for a democratic and economically progressive society, instead of toiling in mines, factories and mills for pennies a day.
When we remember how and why this holiday came into being, can we as consumers in good conscience continue to buy products based solely on cost? Can we without embarrassment buy clothing that has been manufactured on the backs of child labor? Is it moral to buy electronics or sneakers or toys from companies that don’t pay their workers a fair wage and don’t provide safe and healthy working conditions for them? What would happen if our buying habits changed, and we wouldn’t purchase products from labor-unfriendly companies? Yes, the price of some products we desire may increase, however, so will competition, which can influence price, employment, and quality. And, better yet, the global pool of consumers with the means to purchase products and services from a wide variety of sources will grow and add to the economic viability of many countries.
Many think the need for labor unions is long passed, but look at the migrant workers in our country who toil outside labor laws. They put in 12 to14-hour days/7 days a week of hard physical labor, exposed to pesticides and dangerous equipment. They are low paid, uninsured, and suffer poorer physical health and have a shorter life expectancy than the general population. Their children often work by their sides but aren’t reported on the farmers’ books. The delicious tomato, peach, or mushroom you eat today may have been planted, tended, and harvested by one of these dedicated workers. You and I spend less of our money on food than any other country in the world. Now you know why. When will our migrant workers be included in Labor Day?
Fareed Zakaria’s blog entry, “Hey, America: Take a Vacation!” that he shared on his Sunday television show reminds us that the American worker is working too many hours on too many days every year. The average European worker gets three times more vacation days than the average worker does here and uses a higher percentage of those days. The average number of vacation days an American worker receives: 13. The average percentage of those used per year: 57%. H-m-m-m, do I see a possible solution to our high unemployment?
But, in fact, all the above is a mere digression from my true subject for this 5th day of September. This is the 60th birthday of my friend Muffy, and, in celebration, she and her cousin are kayaking the shores of the Upper Peninsula in girlfriend solidarity. Muffy has known me longer than any other non-relative and knows the true me, the one who imagined my doll was really a baby, and I was the teacher of a classroom of young students my age. She is an amazing and brilliant woman, well-described by the words of this post dedicated to strong women from Arlene’s Facebook wall:
I am strong because I know weakness,
I am compassionate because I have experienced suffering,
I am alive because I am a fighter,
I am wise because I’ve been foolish,
I can laugh because I have known sadness,
I can love because I’ve known loss.
I send her my love on this day, and I hope it will be just as special as she is.
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