On May 26, 2013, Grace Episcopal Church held its last service of worship and then closed. The decline had been coming on - with occasions of hope-filled bright spots - for a long time. Money might have helped keep the doors open. But, and I make every effort not to use the word but unless I want to call the previous clause into question, but, the people could no longer carry on. In God's good time, it was time to let it go.
It is now a month later. The building stands empty, waiting for Our Diocese, Connecticut, to discern, with God's help, how that property can best be used to join God's mission of restoration and reconciliation of all people and creation to God and one another.
The people have dispersed. I hear, from time to time, their forays into trying other places, their signs of hope for their next place of worship.
And the greatest sign of hope for the work that was done at 1 Union Park in Norwalk Connecticut, begun on Belden Avenue 1n 1890, is the story of Holy Needles.
This was a ministry introduced to Grace by Deacon Sally Herring. The purpose was to knit shawls for people who could use a sign of the prayers of the community at Grace. As people knit, or crocheted prayer shawls, they talked. They taught one another. They brought the concerns of the community of Norwalk to one another and worked on how to meet them. Men and women both were part of this community. When Family and Children's Agency wanted to present to Grace the opportunities the agency has for outreach, working within the City of Norwalk, it was to Holy Needles they came. And Holy Needles engaged members of the congregation in the connection with FCA.
When the vote was taken in April to close the church - a vote with only three dissents - the women and men of Holy Needles talked about how they might continue their work together and their conversations on behalf of the community.
A former parishioner heard of this, and made a suggestion. There is a local residential care facility that is looking for a group to come in regularly and teach and/or encourage knitting or crocheting to the residents, and engage them in conversation. After meeting one time at a local coffee house, the group decided that they would take up the invitation from the care facility. Now, every first and third Saturday morning, you will find Holy Needles embedded in the community, outside the church walls, where they have found God has gone with them.
I can think of no greater legacy for Grace Episcopal Church, Norwalk, Connecticut to have left. God grant them many years of loving service in the name of Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
Reinventing One's Self
Today, on a posting from Shalem Institute on Facebook, I read the following:
"The ways to God are many.
They appear when we are ready for them
And when our faithfulness has shown
We can live with the consequences
Of further Growth." - John Punshon
#Shalem
"...live with the consequences..."
I have in the past, here and/or in other places, shared my love/hate relationship with God. I know God is. And I know I am supposed to love God. And when things go wrong I want God to fix them. And when they are not fixed I rage at God and wonder what the purpose of God is in the first place if it is not to make life better for us poor creatures of God. And at the same time I know I am "supposed to" let it be enough that God is with me in the horrible time. And it is not, absolutely not, enough.
Lately, this has haunted me every time something goes terribly wrong - most lately, the inexorable move toward death of the congregation I have been serving, its closing on Sunday, May 26th, 2013, the bureaucracy of working out severance for myself and employees of the church, the fear that rose in me over disagreement on administering that severance, and, lastly, the terror I experienced when after having been told by an instrument of the national institution that I would be receiving a form for extension of medical benefits, I was told at the almost last minute that I was too old for that extension, and fear engulfed me and rage that God had so abandoned me, and abandons others like me, leaving us without resources overwhelmed me.
As I wept in fear and bitterness I also wept for all who were far worse off than me - the whole world, and particularly in Oklahoma including two women clergy who were in seminary with me, and I felt I had no right to my fear, my terror, my rage. I felt ashamed of myself. And yet, there it was. And I am so tired, I thought, that it always has to be this way, that God doesn't take care of me until I lose it, materially, spiritually and emotionally.
So, after I told my spouse, and after he called me back while he was looking for a phone number of someone we had spoken with two years ago when he had a conflict with the mail order pharmacy over his glaucoma drops and my fear ratcheted up over the possible loss of his eyesight if we could not afford those drops, a glimmer of reason crept in. I checked my emails from two years ago and there was the name, which Spouse could not remember, and an email address. And I also saw in my mind's eye, and went to check it physically, two words in the upper right corner of something I had received from the national institution of the church three days before: 2013 Retiree. Somehow I had been retired without my permission.
The woman whose name I found was our official advocate with the national institution of the church and in 24 hours things were going better and 24 hours after that we were confirmed as eligible for extension of benefits.
Now, lest you get all caught up in the details of this transaction, which came out all right, let me remind you of what I read today in the Shalem post:
"The ways to God are many.
They appear when we are ready for them
And when our faithfulness has shown
We can live with the consequences
Of further Growth." - John Punshon
#Shalem
"...live with the consequences..."
I have in the past, here and/or in other places, shared my love/hate relationship with God. I know God is. And I know I am supposed to love God. And when things go wrong I want God to fix them. And when they are not fixed I rage at God and wonder what the purpose of God is in the first place if it is not to make life better for us poor creatures of God. And at the same time I know I am "supposed to" let it be enough that God is with me in the horrible time. And it is not, absolutely not, enough.
Lately, this has haunted me every time something goes terribly wrong - most lately, the inexorable move toward death of the congregation I have been serving, its closing on Sunday, May 26th, 2013, the bureaucracy of working out severance for myself and employees of the church, the fear that rose in me over disagreement on administering that severance, and, lastly, the terror I experienced when after having been told by an instrument of the national institution that I would be receiving a form for extension of medical benefits, I was told at the almost last minute that I was too old for that extension, and fear engulfed me and rage that God had so abandoned me, and abandons others like me, leaving us without resources overwhelmed me.
As I wept in fear and bitterness I also wept for all who were far worse off than me - the whole world, and particularly in Oklahoma including two women clergy who were in seminary with me, and I felt I had no right to my fear, my terror, my rage. I felt ashamed of myself. And yet, there it was. And I am so tired, I thought, that it always has to be this way, that God doesn't take care of me until I lose it, materially, spiritually and emotionally.
So, after I told my spouse, and after he called me back while he was looking for a phone number of someone we had spoken with two years ago when he had a conflict with the mail order pharmacy over his glaucoma drops and my fear ratcheted up over the possible loss of his eyesight if we could not afford those drops, a glimmer of reason crept in. I checked my emails from two years ago and there was the name, which Spouse could not remember, and an email address. And I also saw in my mind's eye, and went to check it physically, two words in the upper right corner of something I had received from the national institution of the church three days before: 2013 Retiree. Somehow I had been retired without my permission.
The woman whose name I found was our official advocate with the national institution of the church and in 24 hours things were going better and 24 hours after that we were confirmed as eligible for extension of benefits.
Now, lest you get all caught up in the details of this transaction, which came out all right, let me remind you of what I read today in the Shalem post:
"The ways to God are many.
They appear when we are ready for them
And when our faithfulness has shown
We can live with the consequences
Of further Growth." - John Punshon
#Shalem
Today I look back on the last week and wonder if that is what has been happening with me. I have truly reflected on my reaction a week ago Tuesday and wondered what would be different if I didn't "lose it", at least quite so totally lose it. I don't think losing it was irrational. The experience of being given a cut off date for benefits was the last straw in months of little traumas leading up to the closing of the church I served. It would be irrational not to lose it, it seems to me.
Yet, I don't like how I feel when grief - and that is what it was, grief - is so total, so complete. Is there redemption in it? Does it have to include raging at God? I am reminded of Elijah's words to God as he knelt beside the dead child of the widow and raged, "O Lord, my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?...O Lord my God, let this child's life come into him again." So maybe, yes, rage at God. And at the same time...
Some other words of wisdom from Facebook:
From Shalem: "...But even when things are challenging and worrisome, we still have good energy to share. Of course it may mean we have to dig a little deeper..."
From unknown, via Priscilla Welch: "there are so many people out there who will tell you that you can't. what you've got to do is turn around and say 'watch me'."
From Meister Eckhart via #Shalem: "The spiritual life is not a process of addition, but rather of subtraction."
From Rumi: "Apart from Love, everything passes away. The way to heaven is in your heart. Open and lift the wings of Love!"
From Queenisms, A Postcard: "Hi, This is just a reminder that you are past due on living the life you've always wanted. What's stopping you? xoxo Me"
Shared by Jody Rodiger: "A strong person is not the one who doesn't cry. A strong person is the one who cries and sheds tears for a moment, then gets up and fights again."
"Stop thinking you aren't good enough." (Posted on the pole of a STOP sign)
My precis of a blog post from Homeboy Industries: "Failure builds strength. We really must destigmatize failure."
And first in the string, which can be read from her up: "Become the moon."
Every time I have done group work on my issues there always comes a time when I have reached the limit of my ability to endure one more growth experience. This would be one of those times, normally. And yes, I don't really want another growth experience for a very long time.
And when it does come, I want to remember all I have learned this week, beginning with "Become the moon" all the way through "...when...we can live with the consequences of further growth."
I think I am in the process of reinventing myself. I know who I want to be. I know who I truly am. I am good enough to be that person. I am the only one stopping me from living the life I want to live. Every other objection can be satisfied. It will take courage to endure the consequences of growth. I am strong enough. After all, I have lived many decades, and I'm still standing.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Detours
I have always loved maps. I remember going through magazines with my oldest brother, the two of us clipping coupons for information from all over the world for travel information, especially for maps. Before the days of mobile phones with maps on them, I always had a map open on my lap when I rode in the passenger seat. I loved seeing where we were, what was coming up, what was nearby, how other places I knew related to one another, and discovering new places and things.
I have had maps in every place I have served. They're not for only finding my way; I find my way in relation to other points on the map.
So when my extended self-guided daily retreat time, The Map you Make Yourself, a pilgrimage inward, addressed detours, I was intrigued. I was especially intrigued by the question asking what maps do I live by.
There are limits to self-revelation. I won't share here what I discovered about myself. I will, however, share the blessing Jan L. Richardson wrote, and how I choose to read it.
God beyond borders,
may I wander
with wanting enough
to unlearn my path,
with wonder enough
to receive the secrets of each place,
with wisdom enough
to allow them to whisper me
home a different way.
(Jan L. Richardson)
I first read is as "...may I wander with wanting enough...." as in "enough wanting" - "...to unlearn my path, with wonder enough [ie enough wonder]...with wisdom enough [enough wisdom]..."
The second time I read it, it came out this way:
"...may I wander with wanting [ , ] enough to unlearn my path,
with wonder [ , ] enough to receive the secrets of each place,
with wisdom [ , ] enough to allow them to whisper me home a different way."
That is, may I wander with wanting, with wonder, and with wisdom, long enough and fully enough to unlearn, receive, and allow.
It is a fine distinction.
Imagine the map by which you live - your internal rules, your internal habits, routines, self-expectations, expectations of others, et cetera. What would a detour from all that - or even one part of it only - look like? Feel like? Would it be disorienting, or freeing, or both, or something else?
The writer of a series of books I've worked in the past suggests that creativity can be unlocked when you choose a route to someplace familiar, a route you know like the back of your hand, a route you always, always take the same, when you choose to take a different route, one you have never taken, one you do not know for certain. No GPS or maps. Mi esposo and I call it "getting lost", "going on an adventure".
Now I'm trying it on internally. It's strange. It's strange when I find myself not fretting over an outcome. My internal map includes a route called fretting. I choose a detour and suddenly, I found myself, without thinking about it, trying it on. I shall try it again.
I have had maps in every place I have served. They're not for only finding my way; I find my way in relation to other points on the map.
So when my extended self-guided daily retreat time, The Map you Make Yourself, a pilgrimage inward, addressed detours, I was intrigued. I was especially intrigued by the question asking what maps do I live by.
There are limits to self-revelation. I won't share here what I discovered about myself. I will, however, share the blessing Jan L. Richardson wrote, and how I choose to read it.
God beyond borders,
may I wander
with wanting enough
to unlearn my path,
with wonder enough
to receive the secrets of each place,
with wisdom enough
to allow them to whisper me
home a different way.
(Jan L. Richardson)
I first read is as "...may I wander with wanting enough...." as in "enough wanting" - "...to unlearn my path, with wonder enough [ie enough wonder]...with wisdom enough [enough wisdom]..."
The second time I read it, it came out this way:
"...may I wander with wanting [ , ] enough to unlearn my path,
with wonder [ , ] enough to receive the secrets of each place,
with wisdom [ , ] enough to allow them to whisper me home a different way."
That is, may I wander with wanting, with wonder, and with wisdom, long enough and fully enough to unlearn, receive, and allow.
It is a fine distinction.
Imagine the map by which you live - your internal rules, your internal habits, routines, self-expectations, expectations of others, et cetera. What would a detour from all that - or even one part of it only - look like? Feel like? Would it be disorienting, or freeing, or both, or something else?
The writer of a series of books I've worked in the past suggests that creativity can be unlocked when you choose a route to someplace familiar, a route you know like the back of your hand, a route you always, always take the same, when you choose to take a different route, one you have never taken, one you do not know for certain. No GPS or maps. Mi esposo and I call it "getting lost", "going on an adventure".
Now I'm trying it on internally. It's strange. It's strange when I find myself not fretting over an outcome. My internal map includes a route called fretting. I choose a detour and suddenly, I found myself, without thinking about it, trying it on. I shall try it again.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Traveling inward
I'm at the end of the first half of Jan L. Richardson's self-directed retreat for a women's Christmas, The Map You Make Yourself - "Saint Catherine's Labyrinth."
At the end of the meditation, Jan asks, "When have words taken you on a journey - not into a physical space but into your own soul? What did you find there?"
O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,
as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.
Therefore I have gazed upon you in your holy place,
that I might behold your power and your glory...
My soul clings to you;
your right hand holds me fast
(Psalm 63:1-2, 8)
One thing have I asked of Adonai;
one thing I seek;
that I may dwell in the house of Adonai all the days of my life;
To behold the fair beauty of Adonai
and to seek him in his temple...
You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face,"
Your face, Adonai, will I seek.
(Psalm 27:5-6, 11)
I found in those words a desire to see the face of God, a desire to track God down, to find God in God's lair, even, and, even, drag God out by the throat and shake God, and ask, "What do you think you're doing down here? Don't you know these are people's lives you're playing with?!"
And, sometimes, the desire just to gaze on God's face. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Paradoxically, Richardson ends the meditation with this blessing:
"May you sink
the roots of your soul
deep and deeper still
into the love of God,
who encompasses and encircles you
without beginning, without end."
And so, God, I seek your face.
I have questions.
The answer to Job is no answer at all.
Why do you hide?
How do you hide,
encompassing me,
circling me,
right here before me,
behind me,
above, beneath,
to the side?
Ah, but then, every once in awhile,
there is the hawk.
( (c) Lois Keen, January 14, 2013)
I have found there, more. I have found that I see things others do not see, and where others do see, I see differently. I see connections between disparate things, thoughts, writings. I see poetry beyond words. I see words beyond sight or thought. And people have trouble understanding what I say.
At the end of the meditation, Jan asks, "When have words taken you on a journey - not into a physical space but into your own soul? What did you find there?"
O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,
as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.
Therefore I have gazed upon you in your holy place,
that I might behold your power and your glory...
My soul clings to you;
your right hand holds me fast
(Psalm 63:1-2, 8)
One thing have I asked of Adonai;
one thing I seek;
that I may dwell in the house of Adonai all the days of my life;
To behold the fair beauty of Adonai
and to seek him in his temple...
You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face,"
Your face, Adonai, will I seek.
(Psalm 27:5-6, 11)
I found in those words a desire to see the face of God, a desire to track God down, to find God in God's lair, even, and, even, drag God out by the throat and shake God, and ask, "What do you think you're doing down here? Don't you know these are people's lives you're playing with?!"
And, sometimes, the desire just to gaze on God's face. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Paradoxically, Richardson ends the meditation with this blessing:
"May you sink
the roots of your soul
deep and deeper still
into the love of God,
who encompasses and encircles you
without beginning, without end."
And so, God, I seek your face.
I have questions.
The answer to Job is no answer at all.
Why do you hide?
How do you hide,
encompassing me,
circling me,
right here before me,
behind me,
above, beneath,
to the side?
Ah, but then, every once in awhile,
there is the hawk.
( (c) Lois Keen, January 14, 2013)
I have found there, more. I have found that I see things others do not see, and where others do see, I see differently. I see connections between disparate things, thoughts, writings. I see poetry beyond words. I see words beyond sight or thought. And people have trouble understanding what I say.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
The Door
This morning I was reminded that the symbol of St. Anne is the door,
she who was the door
through whom Our Lady Mother Mary
was born
Yesterday I asked, piteously, how a person becomes a professional retreat leader,
like Jan L. Richardson. "By writing a book" was the answer. "By being an artist, a poet - look at her work!"
Today I have been offered an opportunity to lead a vestry retreat.
The poem/prayer for this step on my pilgrimage inward, page 8 in Jan L. Richardson's self-guided retreat for a Women's Christmas, warns that it is probably a good thing we cannot see the entire road ahead in this pilgrimage, for we might not make the journey at all. And that there is a gift each of us has that only we can bring, and there will be a place to which to bring that gift.
So many doors
and I don't know the names of the half of them
I don't have the keys to them all
and some of the keys I have
are rusted
and some of the locks
are rusted
and the only way to tell
is to try them
St. Anne, pray for me
St. Anne, pray with me
St. Anne, pray in me
I am tempted to take all the piles and piles of keys that have accumulated in the church and toss out every last one of them.
she who was the door
through whom Our Lady Mother Mary
was born
Yesterday I asked, piteously, how a person becomes a professional retreat leader,
like Jan L. Richardson. "By writing a book" was the answer. "By being an artist, a poet - look at her work!"
Today I have been offered an opportunity to lead a vestry retreat.
The poem/prayer for this step on my pilgrimage inward, page 8 in Jan L. Richardson's self-guided retreat for a Women's Christmas, warns that it is probably a good thing we cannot see the entire road ahead in this pilgrimage, for we might not make the journey at all. And that there is a gift each of us has that only we can bring, and there will be a place to which to bring that gift.
So many doors
and I don't know the names of the half of them
I don't have the keys to them all
and some of the keys I have
are rusted
and some of the locks
are rusted
and the only way to tell
is to try them
St. Anne, pray for me
St. Anne, pray with me
St. Anne, pray in me
I am tempted to take all the piles and piles of keys that have accumulated in the church and toss out every last one of them.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Women's Christmas Retreat: The Map You Make Yourself
I have discovered the tradition, mostly Irish, of Women's Christmas: Epiphany being the time when women took the day off from making everyone happy and caring for everything.
Here is a link to a Jan L. Richardson site that just might be helpful. I posted this link on my primary blog, Ramblings With Lois, but I will speak more fully and regularly about this Women's Christmas on this blog.
I wrote on Ramblings:
"As a clergy woman, I am recognizing a tiredness normal to this time of year. In a year when Lent will begin so soon after Christmas and Epiphany - Ash Wednesday, February 13 - I pledge to myself to take these few weeks in between to take that pilgrimage within, to sort through where I want to be and go, where I might go, who I might be, and just to rest. To stop, and rest. And maybe stand outside or walk about once in awhile for not purpose at all.
"I hope you enjoy Jan. I have read her book Night Visions every day from the Monday before Christmas through the week after Epiphany for, oh, I guess 14 or 15 years now. It inspired me to, every year, to a piece of art and/or write each day as part of my daily devotions during that time of year.
"One place in the Women's Christmas pilgrimage I want to go is to extend that spiritual practice to all the year round. Pray for me, if you will."
Well, I have begun this self-retreat and Oh cripes, she starts right out, doesn't she!?! and asks the questions, "Where do you want to go? What would it take?" In other words, what's stopping you?
Can't I work up to that? Do I have to dive right in? Well, after all, this is a map I am to make for myself. It might be nice to have some ideas where I might go. But, oh, this is a journey inward. The outward is merely the starting place. So yes, I get to work up to it.
So, to begin: The first thing that comes to mind is money. The second is time but money is the real thing stopping me. What would it take to make this happen? And where do I want to go? Almost anyplace in England, and to Lister in Norway. To take that pilgrimage on the milk boat to the land of my forebears. My mother's forebears.
Where do I want to inward? I will let that unfold.
Now, to rest a bit. Time for a cuppa. Harney's Earl Grey with silvertips - mmmmmm.
Friday, January 4, 2013
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