Reflection from Sarah

My husband is a great cook (I’m a proud “microwaver.”)  He enjoys creating dishes and no two ever taste exactly the same, always delicious, but each in their own way.  At the beginning of the pandemic we decided to start an herb garden.  (I should also confess that I have a very brown thumb.)  We live in a 4^th floor condo so our garden sits on the window sill.

The cilantro grew in bold and strong.  You could smell its sweet aroma when you gently rustled the leaves.  Late in the season, we noticed the leaves entangled in webs from the tiniest mites.  Where did these critters come from?  The soil?  Our home?  Hmmmm.  Unfortunately, the cilantro was overcome and to keep the other herbs safe we decided to cut it back.  

A couple days later we noticed new growth a pattern I know plays out in gardens regularly.  As I thought about the cilantro, I was reminded how much renewal and regrowth will bloom through our experiences in this pandemic.  That who we are and how we live will change in ways that produce growth.  I was also reminded that renewal and new beginnings are central to the Lenten journey which begins today – Ash Wednesday.  New beginnings invariably come from old false things that are allowed to die (Richard Rohr).  May you experience trimming back and beginning anew with curiosity.  Open to renewal with wonder at what may be.

Reflection from Sarah McEvoy, CPE Intern

I love how an artist or poet can shift my perspective on the world with even the simplest of strokes.

An artist friend of mine, Laurie McGugan, was out hiking when she came across a gravel pit, well

hidden from the pretty countryside by berms and trees. Gravel pits are not pretty places, but Laurie suddenly saw it as a big sandbox, with big boys playing in it with their heavy machinery. She snapped some pictures and continued on her way.

At home, Laurie printed the pictures out on a large color ink-jet printer. She then painted sandbox toys onto the gravel-scape. My favorite of the series features a big, red bucket, yellow shovel and the members of the Village People.

Life in the New England midwinter during a pandemic is not always pretty. But I’m setting out today to ‘reframe’ one thing in my day, just like Laurie did after her hike.

Where can I place the red pail and the yellow shovel in my landscape?

Or maybe I’ll just sing “YMCA”:

Young man, there’s no need to feel down
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said, young man, ’cause you’re in a new town
There’s no need to be unhappy….

John Terauds, CPE Intern

Love’s Lonely Office

I listened to a podcast today about love. The speaker talked about the textures, nuances, complexities of love. It seems that the thing that is so necessary for a human soul to survive should come simpler and with cleaner lines.

True love that can rattle the bones and break a heart wide open can make us feel too tender, too vulnerable. Like somehow if we see it, offer it fully, step right into it and embrace it we will turn to jelly and disappear. Maybe we unknowingly close our eyes, resist love, and then cry because we do not see those who love us. And maybe we cry because the love we offer isn’t seen either. . .because our missteps and mistakes make the love we offer the world harder to see so it sits in its lonely office.

This poem, about love, is like love. It has texture and nuance and complexity. I hope it speaks to you today in some meaningful way.

In honor of Black History month, Robert Hayden was the first African American to fill the role of poetry consultant to the Library of Congress which he was appointed to in 1976, a role now known as poet laureate.

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

By Robert Hayden

Reflection offered by Cherie Shaw, CPE Intern

Today is Valentine’s day…I hope you are showered with real love and care today.

As I was coming in today, I was listening to a podcast “On Being” with Krista Tippett. She had previously interviewed Omid Safi who talks and writes about marriage and love. Omid talked so realistically about love and how we are all tremendously broken people trying to be relationship with other broken people. And we are trying to build relationships amidst all the fluffy “falling-in-love” fantasies of TV and movies. I so appreciated Omid’s take on love and the fact that primary relationships ARE HARD and messy and often misses the mark of the fantasy.  

They also talked about how many dimensions of love there are and that we can practice a service kind of love or a friendship kind of love or a familial kind of love that is probably more important than romantic love. I so appreciated the breaking open of the myth that couplehood is heaven or even the ideal. No. For those of us who live in a couple… we know that it is hard hard work to come to terms with our own brokenness and that of the one we love. Just trying to bring up kids with another person is incredibly challenging and probably the hardest thing in the world!

Anyway, I work hard at it, (love) at home and I could do better at leaning on alternative love relationships like in service, friendship or family.  How about for this valentine’s day we celebrate all kinds of love… like the service love we have for our residents? How about we bring a bit of humility and non-judgment to our beloved even if there are no flowers or chocolates waiting for us?

We are all hard at work at love in all our brokenness. Spread some kindness and appreciation today.

Be the love you hope for the world.

Warmly,

Michelle

Jewish tradition is rich with prayers and blessings for virtually every occasion and every moment of the day.  For instance, upon waking up from sleep, one should say the Modeh Ani, “I am thankful before You, living and enduring King, for you have mercifully restored my soul within me.  Great is Your faithfulness.”  Then, after getting out of bed and washing your hands, another blessing is recited.  Step by step throughout the day, Jewish tradition honors the moments by acknowledging the Divine’s presence in our lives and expressing gratitude for creation.  Even after using the bathroom, a blessing is said, the Asher Yatzar, thanking God for creating us so completely and wondrously that our bodies are in good working order.  I love this feeling of continual reminders that our days and our lives, even the small moments we usually take for granted, are holy.

The last time I was on the Havenwood campus was Thanksgiving Day, when I offered a blessing to Lodge residents before their meal in the dining room.  I ended my prayer for that day with the Sheheecheyanu, translated from Hewbrew as “Who has given us life.”  This blessing is traditionally offered to mark a special occasion, when something is happening that occurs infrequently or is quite momentous.  It felt appropriate for that day, as I looked into the dining room and saw all the Lodge residents gathered together for the first time in months, though separated by plexiglass barriers.

As the HHH community is completing its vaccination process and our nation is embarking on an astounding endeavor to vaccinate the public, this blessing feels appropriate once again.  No doubt we still have hurdles ahead of us, and these new COVID variants present some uncertainty.  Still, we’re approaching an historic moment.  And so I invite you to join me in reciting the Sheheecheyanu:  

“Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and allowed us to arrive at this Time.”

Blessings & peace to you,

Jennifer, CPE Intern

When I am juggling multiple responsibilities that coincide with each other, I often get carried away, focused on the destination, the deadline, the result. I rush to get accomplish what I’m doing as if they are tasks to be checked off a to-do list. Sometimes, I do need to rush. Other times, the pressure to rush is internally created.

If I take a moment to pause, I can more easily discern which is true and respond with greater clarity. When I slow down, I often realize I can experience the moment I’m in, while also accomplishing what I need to do by taking it one step at a time.

Stepping into the new day.
Being present to one moment at a time.
Moving your Body.
Anyway you can.
Maybe a morning walk,
or an evening stroll.
What is possible?
How are you moving?
Real or in your mind?
If you can walk:
moving one step at a time – feeling the soles of your feet – feeling the ground under your feet.
Letting the ground caress your feet.
Hugging the ground with your feet.

Or

Simply being present to walking.
Connecting the rhythm of your breaths to your steps.
The real or imaginary steps.
Reminding yourself with each step, you are doing the best that you can.

— Yasemin Isler

One step at a time, may you have ease and peace today.

Marianne DiBlasi, CPE Intern

Meet in the middle with light.

Many of us wait every year to see what the commercials are going to be during the Super Bowl. The first few years this was promoted, it was exciting to see which commercial would win. But then I began to lose interest. However, this year one caught my attention. I was born in Kansas, but left when I was ten years old. My brother still lives there and I visit him about once a year. As soon as I saw the Super Bowl ad with Bruce Springsteen, I thought for sure it was the plains of Kansas. As the commercial progressed, I found that I was correct. It was a church in Lebanon, KS, near the Nebraska border—a church that “never closes.” I was surprised that I recognized the Kansas plains, but there is something magical about the plains. I was more impressed, however, with the message. Lebanon, KS, is the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states. The point of the commercial was to suggest that we must meet in the middle. Our country is so divided, and this was an attempt to spur viewers to mend the rifts of politics and polarization. As he is sits in this small chapel, Bruce Springsteen says “We just have to remember that the soil we stand on is common ground. Our light has always found its way through the darkness. And there is hope on the road ahead.” I find it interesting that there is a similar message from Amanda Gorman’s inaugural poem:

                        For there is always light,
                        if only we’re brave enough to see it.
                        If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Lord, help us be the light and meet in the middle.

Mary Anne Totten, CPE Intern

Her hands are old
Yet they are soft with the talcum of time
Hands that hold deep secrets in their wrinkles;
The hands she’s held, the cheeks she’s caressed
The baby she cradled
The love she gave
Her hands are cold like always
Her circulation slow
Her fingers are short and crooked
Arthritis playing center stage
They’ve seen beautiful writing and knitting needles
They’ve taken stunning pictures and run through saltwater sand
These are my grandmother’s hands. So powerful and true
They are gorgeous works of art
Sitting with her tea
A simple kind old woman with hands of stories and dreams.

– Emily Austin

Sarah McEvoy, CPE Intern

I had to pick up something from a parishioner last Friday. She invited me in for a carefully masked chat

and showed me one of her Christmas gifts: the biggest pink amaryllis I have ever seen.

It is a magnificent flower, easily more than 3-feet high, with a sturdy, unsupported stalk and three giant pink blossoms.

All of this beauty grew out of something that looks like a large onion. The pot is filled with rocks, not rich soil. All it needed was the right amount of light and water. It also had the company of other plants. Maybe they were silently cheering on this newcomer, encouraging it to turn into something even more dazzling than anything they could ever hope to be.

The bulb, that unremarkable onion-shaped thing, contained within it the potential for something to delight and impress our eyes. Just add water and light for it to reach its full potential.

How many more things, or people, around us might enjoy reaching their full potential with just a little bit of attention, a little bit of water and light?

John Terauds, CPE Intern

Hope for the Long Haul

We have been battling an unseen enemy for almost a year now. We have had to sacrifice, work together, and think of the greater good just like others who have fought seen enemies in earlier times. And like them, like anyone engaged in a battle, we are tired.

We speak of hope, another unseen thing, our unseen weapon in fighting this unseen viral enemy. But what happens when you are under attack and life is hard and your energy begins to fade? What then? Will our hope carry us for the long haul?

My faith tradition brings to mind this text, “Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm.” (Eph. 6:13) These words remind me that hope has the ability to strengthen and fortify our resolve to carry on and finish well.

It is also interesting that this “God armor” is made up of unseen things like trust, truth, peace, and right thinking. It seems these qualities knit themselves together and provide us with hope, a hope that sustains us when we are tired.

How do we know these unseen qualities exist? We see what is unseen when we witness kindness and generosity in others, when we see love being extended, when we observe generous acts, when we see positivity rates decreasing because we have been doing the hard work. We see them when we take a moment to look for them. And as we do, hope is stirred and promises to carry us for the long haul.

May we all be standing firm when this battle is over. May we have eyes to see the unseen and allow hope to carry us on, carry us through.

Cherie Shaw, CPE Intern