Six years ago today, we were all mid-Holy Week. That particular year I was in the sanctuary at Pine Shores Presbyterian Church in Sarasota early each morning–holding space for anyone who might want an early morning place for prayer, for silence..
On this particular morning no one had come. I was happily sitting in the stillness, prayerful, attentive, with eyes lightly closed. At a pause I opened my eyes to see what you see in the photograph above. The sun had risen enough to stream across the sanctuary and catch the large cross on the chancel. It was at once startling and stunning.
I fumbled through my backpack for my phone and snapped a few pictures before realizing that my heart was racing. A thousand thoughts were going through my mind. Was this an epiphany? A moment of grace? An accident? Was it my imagination, a fluke, a deception? Maybe a blessing. It took a while for the whirlwind to subside–and my heartrate to drop back to normal–only then relaizing I was sitting at the edge of the pew. I sat back and just stared. The sun slowly continued its climb and left the cross, and I continued to sit there for a very long time.
Remembering that morning these many years later, it suggested to me a spiritual concept I first learned from Macrina Wiederker in her book: “A Tree Full of Angels: Seeing the Holy in the Ordinary” originally published in 1988. I likely read it around then. It seems that her ideas have stayed with me in ways that are both simple and profound. Upon reflection, I realize I’ve been spiritually formed by her writings, by a woman I’ve never met. How that happens, she explains in the quote below:
I’m wondering about your awareness of this “holiness in the ordinary.” What burning bushes, or shining things have you seen lately? Where have you seen angels? What crumbs have you collected up because you’ve seen their hidden beauty? These are all spiritual acts. They also require seeing from the heart.
As I write, I am once more filled with a similar wonder as I was that morning six years ago. But not just the wonder of that morning, but at the many ways I have and continue to see shining things and trees full of angels everywhere in my life. I am especially grateful at this time in the history of the world…that I’ve also learned to see beauty in the crumbs. There are seasons when all there are, are crumbs.
My hope as we continue together toward Holy Week 2022, is that we might be attentive to and mindful of the shinings. And that when we see them we take the time to pause. Brother David Steindl Rast says it this way: “Moment by moment, life is offering you gift after gift…. But unless you stop, you will rush right by that gift; unless you look, you will miss it; and only if you go and do something with it can you fully avail yourself of that gift.”— Br. David Steindl-Rast This little offering is one of the ways I live the “go.”
The 3 gifts. Who knew a few weeks ago when I finally chose my word for 2022, that it would be the beginning of a wild ride? Yet even as I write that sentence I’ve known it to be true across my life. When I’ve begun or committed to something earnestly in my life–it’s always been wise counsel to hang on; as the Creator of the Universe takes us at our word.
If you could lift the tabs made of teabags on the above piece now hanging on my wall…you’d find a quote by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. (One of many quotes hiding in plain sight). “I want first of all – in fact, as an end to these other desires – to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life … in fact – to borrow from the languages of the saints – to live “in grace” as much of the time as possible. By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony. I am seeking perhaps what Socrates asked for in the prayer from the Phaedrus when he said, “May the outward and inward (wo)man be at one.” I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.” The clarity of her words were at first startling. Yet that quickly passed, as I received them as something to take with me on the journey in 2022 which I’d named for myself just a few weeks earlier as purity of intention. These words from Lindbergh were among the first gifts.
A second gift for my journey came from my continuing course with Jon Kabat Zinn. I hope you know his work in stress reduction through mindfulness at Massachusettes General, or his many books and video courses. As I began listening to the the next round of classes, my ears perked up…or my heart began to open, and receive, as he read a snippet from “The Four Quartets”
We shall not cease from exploration [And] the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall and the children in the apple tree.
I have been known to take exaggerated leaps in my thought processes, or in my logic, but it was no leap to recognize my desire for a heart-led practice of pure intention this year as nothing more than a “continuation of exploring.” And not only that but seeing this pursuit of intention as “the unknown unremembered gate.” And perhaps even, that where it shall lead is: “where we started/At the source/the voice of the hidden waterfall.” What tumbled together through Eliots words was that I’m not in pursuit of something new. Rather, of something elemental to all humankind; a desire to live from a place so deep in our hearts–that it’s where God’s heart resides. Or as Catherine of Sienna put it, where: “My deepest me is God.” A second gift for my journey.
And as if these gifts from Anne Morrow Lindbergh and from T.S. Eliot via Jon Kabat Zinn were not enough…
On Thursday of last week, I met via Zoom with friend Sharon Junn, who is also both a Presbyterian Minister and fellow Spiritual Director. Sharon is currently learning to help people discover their Enneagram type. For at least 25 years I’ve on occasion had an interest in the Enneagram and pretty consistently understood myself as a Mediator. After listening to Richard Rohr several years ago, I did wondered if I wasn’t off on that. After 50 minutes of conversation and to my surprise, Sharon and her supervisor suggested to me two types that I never considered. I’ve spent the rest of the week and weekend listening and reading definitions from many different interpreters. When first presented with their suggestions, I was amused as no one ever considered me a 2 or an 8 before. For various reasons, the 8 fell away rather quickly and I was left with this 2-ness. And the 3rd gift… Because in order to pursue purity of intention, one first must know their intention(s) and for two’s that can be a larger task than for some. I’m grateful for the invitation to pause right at the beginning for clarity–a gift.
Indeed my 2022 has begun as a wild ride. How about yours? My conviction is that the Creator of the Universe has exciting, challenging and comforting things prepared for us all. And while my spiritual path is not yours nor yours mine, our experiences are ultimately for good; ours and others. Hoping that awareness, invitation, response and growth, which are the material of transformation, will be yours and mine.
Closeup of a goose as he waddled by outisde my window.
Over the past month or so, an inordinate number of points of contact in my life have been suggesting that I choose a “word” for the New Year. While not something new to me, the suggestion seems more prevalent or even insistent this year–coming from such disparate corners as an artist I follow, a devotional podcast I listen to, a book I’m reading and my spiritual director. So okay, I can take a hint. The Benevolent Creator of the Universe seems to be seeking my attention.
I only began to seriously consider the choice of a word a few days ago. The holidays were joyfully full and busy with family. But as that time wound down, I was once again reminded of “that Word thing.” And like the nudging towards the act of choosing, there was also a clear nudge for what that word might be. But let me be clear, knowing what the word is…and knowing what it means/or is asking of me…are very different things.
Earlier this week I continued in an online class by Jon Kabat Zinn who in the second lesson was speaking about intention as it applied to mindfulness practice. During Advent, I lead an 18 day retreat where I encouraged participants to have a daily intention for their retrat. This morning as I listened to the Liturgy of the hours, my ears perked up as I heard: Our Lord told St. Faustina, “My daughter, let three virtues adorn you in a particular way: humility, purity of intention and love” ( Diary, 1779). As I heard this third reference to intention, ‘purity of intention’ I was reminded that the lore of my name is that it means pure. “Kathleen as a girls’ name is pronounced kath-LEEN. It is of Irish and Greek origin, and the meaning of Kathleen is “pure”. Variant of Katherine. First used outside of Ireland in the 1840s.”
So by now you know where I am going here. My Word for 2022 is Intention (modified by ‘purity of’). Other than thinking about it over the next few weeks, I’ll try to define it more cleanly for myself and put it into practice. I don’t know what that looks like yet and that’s okay. I am committing to doing some writing once a month about what I’m both learning about and doing with purity of intention–or more likely to be true–what it is teaching and changing in me.
What I am already noticing is that purity of intention likely has practical applications for many of the facets of my life. My interactions with family, with friends, my photography, my art, my ministry will all be impacted in ways I can’t yet imagine by a governor called purity of intention. It will open up things to do and ways to be–as well as limit or curtail other things I imagine.
Unlike those ‘lose 10 pounds’ New Years resolutions which have always been a dismal failure for me, this choosing to be guided by a word seems like an adventure. I’m on the road… to where… I do not know. But it seems as though the ‘pure intention’ to become is itself a success.
Wondering what you are hoping for, planning for, dreaming of, working towards in the year that lies ahead. Do you have a word, a phrase, a plan? My prayer for you is that your 2022 is full of joy and blessings. Happy New Year!
We moved to southwest Florida just shy of 20 years ago where I quickly became acclimated to experiencing One season…summer. Yes, there were a few cool days. Yes there was learning to live in a place with a ‘hurricane season’ and a ‘rainy season’ but in all truth a day in January, April and July were separated by only a few degrees. We settled in. We adapted. Sam cut the grass 12 months out of the year. Until now.
When we lived in Illinois and Indiana, Autumn was always my favorite season. I loved the smell of burning leaves, the colors of gold, auburgine, pumpkin and scarlet. I loved crisp apples at the outdoor market alongside the clusters of Indian corn, tied-up hay bails, wheat shafts to decorate the light posts, and all things signaling fall. It was, as all changes of seasons are, a sign of transformation. The creation shouting that something was afoot!
During the past 20 years, I did my best to create what I most loved, in a place for which such things were foreign. My good friends from up north would send me colored leaves which I’d carefully place on the runner on the dining room table. I’d get a nice spicy candle that smelled like apples or pumpkin to burn each early evening. I searched my wardrobe for clothes in the colors of Autumn…and dared to wear corduroy pants while it was still 80 degrees… and be hopelessly out of context. Until now.
We lived in Lehigh, Naples and Sarasota in those years, tropical and subtropical weather. Who knew that moving 200 miles north would bring so much change? This morning I woke up to a crisp 55 degrees and the high will be 70. The skies are blue, the sun shining, the breeze is out of the west pushing back the breeze off the Atlantic. Out my window even the birds are changing, some don’t stay for the winter, and others from the north are just arriving. Leaves are falling everywhere, and while there are not all the colors of maple and oaks that I remember, the bright green marsh grasses are beginning to turn copper. Creation is once again signaling transformation.
I tend to wonder, ponder, think and write a lot about both creation and transformation. Creation is the subject of most all of my photography. And the wide open invitation to transformation is at the heart of my theology and likely my original call to ministry. I am aware at this moment in time of the unbidden and gracious gift of the place I find myself today, where I “live and move and have my being.” Once again (and likely still) creation is speaking to me of transformation. And I am humbled, and I am grateful.
It’s important for me to put together, to write down my awareness of this important spiritual thread of creation/transformation and it’s guidance, teaching and the sacred metaphors it provides in my life. As I sit here it has been 20 months since I’ve walked into a church. My disciplines and spiritual practices have all changed dramatically. When I try to make sense of, or to articulate the spiritual transformation that has/is occuring, words that come to mind are embodied, creationist, universal, or to borrow a word from the mystics, “one-ing.” My spiritual director this week graciously gave me the word mystical to describe the path on which I am walking as I tend to my spirit in this time. It is a path where the gap between ‘sacred and profane’ has all but closed…every- thing sacred…because everything is of God. “And he said: Let us make humankind to our image and likeness. …. And God created humans to his own image: to the image of God he created him: male and female he created them.” —Genesis 1:26-27
Our transformation, yours and mine, is not a matter of becoming anything other than what we already are: created in God’s image. We are not seeking perfection, as we are already perfect as God is perfect.. The transformation open and waiting for us is simply our consent to likeness. To becoming like God whose image we already bear. The metaphor I see out my window, as the seasons change, is that the white pines, the scrub trees, and the grasses are not trying to become other than what they already are. They are simply transforming as a part of their life cycle…shedding what they no longer need…gaining strength by preserving in a season of want…storing and building in a season of plenty. Indeed. Creation signals to us what transformation looks like. Becoming. Always becoming. No books, diagrams, or “3-steps to perfection” needed. Just awareness.
I am grateful for the richness of creation and the diversity that I am experiencing as if for the first time. I am grateful for the wonder that wells up in me as wind, and temperatures, and foliage and flying things and creeping things speak to me of things divine. I am especially grateful for those who have gone before me and those who walk with me who also see/experience/welcome the transformation that creation speaks. Holy Autumn to you friends. Holy Autumn.
That snippet of conversation is one I had hundreds of times beginning in 2019. It referred to my treatments 4 weekly infusions, 5-7 hours each, every April and October, with a drug called Rituxan to treat my incurable but treatable Granulomatosis with Polyangiitis. “How long?” they asked. “Forever” I said.
While the ritual infusions are lifesaving, there are/were benefits and costs. Sounds like something I learned in Management by Objective training…benefits and costs. The benefit is to stop my body from destroying itself with an out of control immune response. A very good thing. The cost is the absence of an immune system at all, killed off by the drug, leaving me susceptible to anything and everything. A lesser cost was that in treatment months, all I could do was sleep. We’re talking 12-14 hours a day. Since April of 2019, I have missed every April and Ocotber. Till October 2021…
It’s October, and I’m awake. My pre-infusion bloodwork had none of the usual markers for active disease. My Rheumatologists recommendation is hold off on Sleeping through October. Re-do bloodwork in a few months… wait and see. So it’s October and I’m awake!
And it’s October and I am grateful. I’ve always experienced myself as a grateful person. But the contours of my gratitude have changed over the years. I was always grateful for extraordinary things, opportunities, experiences, people. I always had a sense of being gifted so much. I find now, however, that I am grateful for gifts that are everyones…at all times…when we are open to them. I am full of gratitude for the 100’s of different greens of the trees out my window. I am grateful for still water, and ripples from jumping fish, and windswept tides. I am grateful for the color of a blue sky with and without clouds and for the opportunity to watch a thunderstorm approach from the west. I am full of gratitude as I watch the white herons perch to catch the dawn on the tallest pines and preen before setting off for a day’s hunt. I am grateful of the reflections of the moon, the colors of sunrise and sunset, and trees on Lake Ibis–never the same twice.
Though complicated to reason through, it is the fact of my disease that has brought me to be AWAKE this October. AWAKE to what is freely given to all people, in all places, when we’re ready. I continue to build my reservoir of gratitude day by day, because I know it will come in handy in those darker days that come to us all. And I’m writing this all down to remind myself (and offer to you) the cultivation of this ‘awakeness’ this awareness…the filling of our reservoirs of gratitude moment by moment.
Sending peace, love and blessing to you on your journey,
In 2009, while still in fulltime church ministry, I began to wonder what I would do as I looked toward retirement. I already imagined staying active in spiritual work…but even then knew my leanings towards a contemplative path, a wide understanding of God, God’s love and welcome, and my eclectic choice of authoritites would make it difficult for me to be affiliated with any one denomination inside Christianity–or even as part of another world religion.
To kick off my road to retirement, I began the process of becoming a Benedictine Oblate of St. John’s Abbey… it was two years of spiritual nourishment. Next my continuing education time in 2011 was spent attending THE JOHN MAIN seminar in Ireland (there are old blogs about that way, way down at the bottom of the page). It was also a life changing experience. Around the same time, I chose to do my training in Spiritual Direction at Shalem Institute–a non denominational program. with outstanding teachers and curriculum. Putting it all together, I began a not-for profit called Peace River Spirituality Center which offered both group and individual retreats, Spiritual Direction, and for 10 years supported two children through Compassion International. That was then. It was a wild ride!
My old Blogspot account is closed now, as well as the Peace River Spirituality Center. To my surprise, I found a home within the Presbyterian Church far longer than I anticipated anyone would tolerate me-thanks Revs. Karen and Bruce-but with the move to Jax Beach I’ve come to the place once more of beginning again in this last chapter of life and ministry. (I can’t separate the two…my life is ministry).
To those of you who are new to this Blog on WordPress, Welcome! To those of you who have transitioned with me over the past 13 years, God Bless You! If the time just past is any indication of what is ahead, we are once again embarking on an adventure.
It is the adventure of beginning again that keeps my spirit bouyed. It’s the gift of openness to what is catching my attention, to what seems to need to be done or said…that makes me excited at each beginning–and makes me able to let go of what was, with some sadness surely, but not trauma. If I was a person who was tied to sameness, to continuing on the same path, in the same manner, in the same place…life would be quite miserable. But I have been given a child-like hope that holds me in good stead as the road turns and new vistas open.
My hope is that you have already, or will make time soon to consider the new beginnings in your life. What has come to you as new or surprise? What did you think was going to happen? What actually did happen? What happened next? We can choose how we react to newness. We can’t change the fact that paths bend, widen, narrow or end. May you know the faithfulness of the Creator of us all, in the beginnings, turns and endings of your journey. And may the adventure take you to green pastures, beside still waters.
Do you recognize that as the parachute that safely landed 4 American astronauts into the Gulf of Mexico after their stint on (ISS) the International Space Station? I don’t know whose idea it was, but in the markings on the parachute itself is the message: “Dare Mighty Things.” Surely preparing is a mighty thing. So is take off. But I never considered landing a “Mighty Thing.” Did you?
Well actually I never considered landing a mighty thing until the day I landed in Jacksonville Beach and within 12 hours calling paramedics because something was really wrong and in the hospital learning the word A-fib. Then home one night and when it happened again, driving myself to the ER to tell them it was happening again. After another day in the hospital, I was on my way back home; new meds in hand, new tests to be run, new doctors to follow-up. It seems after my 3-2-1 blast-off, I kind of crash landed. Not to be concerned…things are working themselves out. New meds, new practices, another new normal evolving.
While the landing looked catastrophic for a while…it was a safe landing. I was in a community with good health care. I am blessed with good insurance. A neighbor who only knew me by the car in the driveway–but whose name I learned from a newsletter–when I called, went to the house and took care of the dogs while I lingered in the hospital. I had the wherewithall in the middle of the unknown to leave the front door unlocked. And all the while Sam (who they would not have let in the hospital) continued in Sarasota with the packers and movers. He arrived in Jacksonville just a few hours after I was released.
This particular landing was mighty for me. But on reflection, I’ve come to believe a lot of our landings are, such as: that first night at summer camp as a child; the first time our dad takes his hands off the back of the bicycle seat when we’re learning to ride; the first time we call someone our best friend or say yes to a first date. We Dare a Mighty Thing when we move into the dorm, approach an almost full lunch table and sit down, when we decide to marry, to become a parent, to buy house. These are just a few of the landings in all of our lives for which we had to Dare to be Mighty.
What are the ways in which you have chosen to Dare Mighty Things?
We dare a mighty thing when we begin a new friendship. We dare a mighty thing when we negotiate new terms for an old friendship. We dare a mighty thing when we cope with physical, mental and emotional challenges constructively. We dare a might thing when confronted with change or loss. We dare a mighty thing by changing our minds from the way we always thought it would be/should be. We dare a mighty thing when we choose to reveal our weaknesses as well as our strengths. We dare a mighty thing sometime by putting one foot in front of the other and ‘doing the next right thing’.
After the suspenseful part of my most recent medical drama 😉 was over, I was feeling a little fragile. Adrenaline always has served me well in an emergency, but now that the eminent danger had passed the enormity of the landing was hitting me. I was at my first visit here with the new doctor who is taking over the care of my GPA, Dr. Manresh Relan. He had all the records from my history up to and including my recent ER and hospital stays. After the initial doctorly chitchat, he said to me was “you are stronger than you think.” You are stronger than you think. He wasn’t talking about my physical wellbeing, but resilience. It made me take a deep breath.
Where have you landed lately? Green pastures and still waters, or somewhere else? What are the opportunities before you to Dare Mighty Things? Are you taking them, or trying to go a different way? How is your resilience? I’ve thought almost daily about Dr. Relan’s words, especially when my mind is wandering down a less than mighty path. And each time, it makes a palpable difference.
May the encouragement and power that was given to me, be encouragement and power to you today. “You are stronger than you think.” You are stronger than you think. So do not be afraid to dare something mighty. You are stronger than you think.
Those who have known me very long, know that alongside my passion for all things subtely or overtly spiritual I have two other loves… 1. the Chicago Cubs, and 2. the literal heavens–sun, moon, planets, stars, the International Space Station, Space X, (Google it) and astronauts. DId you know that the area code for Cape Canaveral Florida is 321? I am so jealous. If I wanted a new phone number for our upcoming move (which I don’t) I’d choose that. But I digress.
Today is the beginning of my real life countdown to blast off, today, Friday, April 16th is *3* It is why we stayed in Sarasota and did not move when we closed on our new house last month. Today was my last infusion cycle to begin 2021. I don’t need that level of care again until October. Today is *3*
Tomorrow, Saturday the 17th is *2*. I will do my final sweep of the house to see what I absolutely cannot live without for the next week. Also tomorrow our kind and generous hairdresser Lisa, will come to the house to give Sam and I a haircut. Kind of like the ‘last rights’ in the beauty industry. Tomorrow will be day *2*
Sunday, will be day *1*. BLAST OFF! Well, kind of. Knowing that I was going to be an an infusion stupor, we arranged for my travelling buddy Mary to drive me to our new home before the arrival of the packers and loaders. Sam will oversee the actual move. I’ll blast off on Sunday, prepared and ready for the arrival of everything!
Now, I know you don’t need a blow-by-blow of my last hours in Sarasota, but my puzzle making, metaphor identifying brain has found something perhaps transferable and useable for each of us for times of change of any kind. I’ve already offered it above, but let me line it out, its based on my beloved 3-2-1. Ready?
For all of us in times of change there are some essential things, things we must do, things to which we must attend. It’s important to keep what is essential, essential…lest urgent-seeming things try to muscle their way into our mind, hearts and the precious commodity of our time. What are the essentials? Tending to our spirit. Tending to our families. Tending to our bodies. In times of change especially, we need to keep essentials, essential. *3* first things first.
Next, in times of change no matter how organized we are, no matter our intentions, skill, stamina or abilities we need ‘a little help from our friends’. In my current transition, I need Lisa to come to our home–I have no immune system and can’t risk inside spaces with strangers. I also need Sam to stay behind to work with a house full of people so that I can be alone and take naps. I need Mary to drive me 250 miles to the new house, out of the goodness of her heart. Even in times of necessary chaos, especially those of us who like to perceive ourselves as strong, must reach out for an accept the help of our families and friends. *2* ask for and accept help.
Then and only then, are we prepared, ready, and free to blast off into the newness God has intended for us. And this is the fun part. We don’t even really know what that is. *1* is to stay open, receptive and willing for the new thing God is doing in us, hopes to do with us, and intends to accomplish through us in the world. *1* is the stepping out on faith part…it’s where we discover ourselves…it’s where we need the most trust. Far from being lonely, *1* is the most exciting number.
There’s a transition upon us all in the year ahead. Together we will define a new way for a post-pandemic world. Hopefully we have learned somethings this past year that will serve us well. Hopefully we will not simiply try to crawl back into who we were but be open to the new invitation. My hope is that this little 3-2-1 will serve you on your new way. May God bless your comings and goings.
Grateful for your company on this amazing journey,
It was the week after Christmas 2020, a full 9 months into the pandemic and not a vaccine in sight, when we began talking about our personal “state of the union.” Who were we? Where are we? How did we get here? were just some of the questions. Questions made possible by the abundance of time. The defining question really became: “Is this who, where and how we would choose to live” — as we now approach the last fifth of our lives if so blessed…or the last days or years as the Lord allows. Such introspection and conversation made possible in the time we’d spent together away from the harm of others breath (I could write a sermon on this) but even more possible as we celebrated Christmas without family; they 1,000 miles away because of a Covid-19 exposure.
I raised the question first. Why are we living here? What is keeping us here? If we could live anywhere else, where might that be? We touched on these questions over the course of weeks into and including the week we were spending in Vero Beach, without the kids and grandkids–us being still quarantined together–now with very beautiful surroundings. Sam likely remarked first that we always liked the Atlantic side of Florida better than the Gulf. His parents had lived near Ft. Lauderdale years ago and we’d enjoyed the short bike ride to the beach each day. We’d even looked at houses on Merritt Island near Melbourne before relocating to Sarasota.
On a lark, on January 1st (with a very accommodating realtor) we went to look at a condominium which from it’s 10th floor screened deck had a clear view of two launch pads on NASA’s Kennedy Space Center on Cape Canaveral. “I could watch launches in my pajama’s” I said. The building was also at the base of a bridge that led to miles and miles of pristine beach in a National Park. Breathtaking! When sanity returned, we realized the condo was too small. The town (except for the space program) did not have the amenities we depended on. No, we wouldn’t be moving to the condo on the water with the 10th floor view that faced the launch pads.
But our wondering and our willingness to seriously entertain our options seemed to take on a life of its own. We were making lists of what we might want and what we might need. It went from the sublime to the ridiculous. Any community we searched, Sam would ask… “how far is Costco?” And then there were more serious considerations like, if we were really ready for condo living, or a 55+ community or another gated community. We agreed we had miserably failed down-sizing. Not one car had ever been in our 2 car garage in the past 6 years… Maybe we were hoping for a small house, just a little bigger than the one we failed into.
Other conversations kept the initial one alive. In our late 60’s we felt like we’d never really ‘chosen’ to live/move someplace. We spent the 30 plus years of our married life following my call to ministry and we relocated near the churches I would serve. It took us to 3 different states, the last being Florida. Florida was a semi-choice as I began to search for a call in SW Florida to be near my mom when she became ill in 2001. But now the question persisted…If we could…where would we live?
Just 48 days into 2021 we placed a bid on a small house, on a salt marsh, in Jacksonville Beach. In it’s favor not in any order were these things: a mile off the Atlantic Ocean, a mile from Mayo Clinic, situated in a protected nature preserve, just a little bigger than our down-size, and 5 miles from Costco 😉 We’ll close in 2 weeks. Did I mention that our new community is called The Sanctuary?
As this unfolded, I realized (with a little help from my Shalem peeps) that that was part of what it was all about from the beginning–that was the ground of my season of wrestleness. I was feeling a need at this time in my life for Sanctuary in the many nuances of that word. A holy place and a place of wholeness. A safe place and a place of peace…of beauty…of nature and nurture. And while a physical relocation does not, cannot, will not give sanctuary… in my heart of hearts I knew that I was being called to journey, to seek it, and the willingness to uproot from everything familiar was a piece of the way/pilgrimage. And so the adventure begins.
We’ll make the physical move in May, God willing. There are vaccines to finish up here and a round of infusions to begin. There are things to do we haven’t even thought of yet. But in still moments when we ask ourselves “is this the right thing?” and “is this the right time?” and “is this the right place?” the answer is affirmative. While the physical journey has a future date in time, the spiritual journey has already begun. We all must close one door to make room for something new to begin.
Since my life in the past year has been reduced to being a talking head on FB or Zoom, the physical location that I appear from virtually, really doesn’t matter. Sometimes my background has been the Abbey in Kentucky, or Vero Beach, or Selby Gardens or Mars! Hopefully, I’ll have found new beautiful places ‘to live and move and have my being’ on and off the screen. I will continue my practice of Spiritual Companionship to those seeking God’s face in the midst of their own dynamic lives because for me these precious hours remain a time of bliss: where my gifts meet the others’ need.
So here we go at this late time of life to seek to live pleasant days with new opportunities, learnings, and adventures. We hope to find a community of which we feel a part, to offer our gifts and welcome theirs. Wherever and however our journey’s have intersected my friend, I hope you’ll stay in touch. For our connections to one another have nothing to do with geography and ultimately everything to do with the One Who’s spark is within us…within us all...the One Who calls.
Blessings on your journey – please offer me your blessing on mine!
Kathleen Bronagh Wellerthe celtic monk
Lake Ibis in our backyard If you look carefully at the center horizon there are two large rectangular buildings… The Mayo Clinic, Jacksonville.
The Celtic Monk Musings 