The real reason we are here

For my girls and one guy on the Catheter Care Team

I have no idea why we are here.  Absolutely none.  Some days I think I know, other days I know I know and still others I haven’t a clue.  I can give you some very deep theological answers as to why if that speaks to you.  I can give you some very humanistic answers as to why if that speaks to you.  I can even make some good answers up and give a very shallow answer. All in the same day.  But the truth is, I just don’t know most of the time. 

But today, today, was one of those days when I thought…this is why we are here. 

So, last night I decide to bake a cake from scratch.  First, you need to know I can bake and actually am pretty good at it. I asked for a Kitchen Aid one year along with a professional grade food processor for Christmas and own about 50 cookbooks.  My knife collection is pretty cool and even Emeril would like my saucepans that come from Germany.  I also own two very, very good sauté pans along with frying pans.  Let’s just say, that Williams and Sonoma is my friend.  I long for a Viking stove.  I read cookbooks for fun.  Second, you need to know I really love the kitchen and cooking can be a spiritual experience for me.  Obviously, eating is. Once a spiritual director suggested that perhaps since I loved to cook so much, I should consider incorporating it into my Rule of Life.  Somehow, I don’t think that is what Benedict meant when he said welcome everyone as Christ.  He wasn’t talking about trying out the newest cake recipe you spent twelve hours looking for on Pinterest.  Pinterest is the devil.  It is like Real Simple, Martha Stewart, Rachel Ray, Southern Living and Southern Lady, Gourmet, Cooking Light, Food all in one.  It is a magazine lover’s virtual dream addiction.  I could surf all night, especially the recipes. 

About a week ago, I found the best Chocolate Cake ever recipe pinned by someone I don’t even know.  I usually am pretty good at reading a recipe and telling whether or not it will be good and exactly how easy it will be to make.  Baking is a science. It is chemistry and you can’t make a mistake.  If you don’t follow the directions exactly in a baking recipe, it will be a disaster.  Unless, of course, you happen to understand the science behind self-rising flour, buttermilk, baking soda, baking powder, cake flour and acid base balance.  Then you can probably rescue a thing or two.  It also helps to have a working knowledge of barometric pressure and the humidity index.  I can promise you that both affect a pound cake. 

Cooking however is more antedotal.  You can make stuff up as you go along and as long as you have a reasonable palate, it will taste good. (OK, except for beef tenderloin.  You really can’t roast that any way you want and hope it will taste ok. In case you are wondering, rub with salt, pepper and garlic; place in a very hot oven (500 degrees)-24 minutes for about 8 lbs. Absolutely no more.  Rest for 20 minutes before slicing. Perfect medium rare every single time).  For instance, tomorrow night, I am making penne pasta with vodka cream sauce, crispy proscuitto and green peas. (And yes, I found the recipe on Pinterest).  I only had to read the recipe to know that not only is that delicious, my family will love it, even though they have never tasted it.  I have already modified the recipe in my head. 

I digress, back to my cake story.  I wanted to make this cake for my work buddies.  Tomorrow will be my last day and I know they like cake (I think they have made me at least four), and I just wanted to surprise them.  Let me go on record as saying, this is one damn good cake.  Just don’t do your own thing with the recipe.  Follow it exactly.  And it probably will be the only chocolate cake I make from now on.   It would be hard to beat this cake.  It is a dense, moist dark chocolate (almost black-because of the 1 ½ cups of coffee in it), two layer cake with a ganache frosting.  It is not too sweet and not too bitter.  Hard to pull off with chocolate.  The perfect balance between sweet and bitter. 

So, one would think we the numerous kitchen disasters I have created, that I would never, ever attempt to alter a cake recipe.  And one would think, that given I am very capable of going from Southern belle to ghetto thug in about 5 seconds, I just wouldn’t tempt myself with the frustration.  And one would think, that given that I love bake and do kind of understand why a certain flour is used in a recipe, why baking soda must be used with buttermilk and why you can’t just add more butter to cookies (they will be flat and spread), I wouldn’t tempt fate.  But I do and did.

I hate to use flour in my cake pans on chocolate layer cakes.  I think cocoa is better.  I love butter and hate Crisco. I didn’t have parchment paper and thought, hell, just skip that step.  (I guess you can tell by all my curse words in one post, this was a disaster of epic proportions).  The answer is no, no, yes and yes.  When I took those two cake pans out of the oven, it was the most beautiful site I have ever seen in a cake pan.  They were perfect; I mean perfectly even, tall layers.  PERFECT.  While my lovely ganache was chilling in the fridge and after my gorgeous layers had cooled, I attempted to release them from the cake pans.  The string of profanity that came out of my mouth scared my cat and my next-door neighbors.  Vance, not so much.  He has lived with me for 17 years and by now is quite used to my cooking induced profanity.   I really should have used flour and Crisco and not skipped the parchment paper step.  (BTW, the substitute for parchment paper is brown paper bag covered in Crisco.  See, I told you I know how to bake). To say that my layers fell apart would be an understatement and I could not put them back together again with toothpicks.  Another baking trick.  I didn’t quite read the whole icing recipe and just skipped the step of whipping the ganache, and it ran.   And I was so mad, I just dumped the whole four cups of ganache frosting on that damn cake and took it to work anyway.  I would like to go on record as saying that the inside of my cake carrier was lovely.  It really was.  Ask Matthew, not the apostle, the guy I work with. 

But it was good and I think this is the real reason we are here and I think besides learning a whole lot of nursing stuff I didn’t know, they really taught me the real reason we are here.        
"There are things you do because they feel right and they may make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other and to eat each other's cooking and say it was good."  Brian Andreas

I will miss many, many things about them.  I will miss the oncology patients.  I will miss the challenge.  Putting needles into people’s chest is an art.  I will miss the laughter.  But mostly, I will miss the food and talking and sharing and telling each other our stories.  And that is the real reason we are here.  To love each other and say it was good.

All is grace and thank you and love and blessings and peace to each of you…and I will bring cake again,

Kathleen

When you don't know where to go

That Karma lady is for real.  That’s what she told me.  Her face had swollen up like a cartoon character and her eyes looked like little boxes.  She actually told her doctor that she “quit him” and that “he just better stay on the other side of the bed because she wanted to fight him”.  Personally, I was betting on her.  I think she could take him.  Let’s just say she was prophesizing a bit about what was going to happen in the future to this particular doctor because “some doctor who looked all Harry Potter” decided to go all “cowboy” on her.  And it made me think.  God will send you a soul friend whether you like or not.  It is up to you to take the healing medicine she offers you.  That’s kind of what I think about Karma.  God sending you just what you need and you get to choose what to do with it.  I often wonder how many soul friends I have ignored, “quit”, became indignant and defensive with.  Far too many, I suspect.  I envy that about Oprah.  She seems to have  about  three dozen soul friends and an “ah-ha” moment  twice a day.  Me.  About once every decade.  This is one of my deep reasons for praying the Daily Office.  It is my soul friend and I find I need prayers wiser than mine own.  I am sure this is an enigma to some of my friends not familiar with the Christian calendar.  It is a more “catholic” style of prayer.  I suppose some are probably offended or at least puzzled as to why I don’t say my own prayers.  C.S. Lewis thought it strange that his wife, Joy Davidson prayed prayers written by other people.   

Once, a patient asked me four questions before she agreed to let me in her house.  She had thrown out the first nurse and social worker.  First, she wanted to know if I was born in the South.  “Yes, ma’am.”  Then she wanted to know if I drank bourbon and water.  “No ma’am.”  Then she wanted to know if prayed Compline every night. “Yes ma’am, I try, but sometimes I fall asleep.”  I sure as heck wasn’t  going to lie to her.  Frankly she scared me with that cane and evil eye. And who knows, she could have been the karma lady.  Finally, she asked, “Are you a Democrat?”  “Yes Ma’am.”  She said, “Well three out four ain’t bad, you can come in and at least your mama taught you good manners.”  I failed the bourbon and water test.  

About every other year, during the summer, my most favorite verse  is scripture is read.  John 6:68.  My second favorite is John 12:21.   Unlike the Psalms, which the Church Fathers deemed important enough to cycle through reading every week or month depending on how you use the BCP, the Gospel of John is read every other year.  Some have said those of us who like John, have a high Christology.  I think I developed a love - hate relationship with the gospel during my classes in Greek.  We translated the entire gospel of John.  So, if I tried real hard, and had the Greek text in front of me, I can recite the first chapter in Greek and sort of tell you what it says.  

So, when I read that verse this week, I really wanted to write something profound, deeply spiritual and moving about it.  And I thought about the Karma lady and soul friends.  Annam Cara.  I don’t think I came up with anything deeply moving that begins to do justice to the verse. A true Soul Friend, or an Annam Cara, is one with whom we feel nakedly ourselves, even when we don’t seem to know who that is.  With our Soul Friend, we are seen fully for whom we are, and more importantly, for who and what we might become as we grow more and more deeply aligned with the Spirit of God.

And I don’t know if Peter knew it or not but that was what he was saying about Jesus that day.  Jesus had just fed 5000, walked on water and seemingly endorsed cannibalism.   No one seems to understand he was offering them healing, wholeness and life.  And they left.  The cannibalism thing turned them off.  If only they had stayed to hear what he really meant.  Jesus seems a little hurt and turns to the remaining 12 disciples and asked, “Are you going to leave too?”  Peter answers in verse 68.  “Lord, where would we go?  You have the words of life.”  My favorite verse of scripture.  Where would I go?  I haven’t found a better option. I haven’t always trusted or even understood the plan, much less the path, but better choice of who to turn to? There just is not a better option.  There just weren’t any better options for Peter either, even though Peter didn’t know about the cross yet, didn’t know he would come to eat humble fish sandwiches and deny the person offering him life, hadn’t met Paul yet and didn’t know the ego battle, hadn’t been to prison, hadn’t been beaten and apparently wasn’t clear on the whole cannibalism issue, but he just didn’t see a better plan other than the friend in front of him.  He had even given up fishing to follow the words of the friend in front of him.  Something deep inside told Peter and Peter listened to that still small voice…”this is the way.  Walk in it.” No he didn’t understand the message.  No he didn’t always take the medicine offered to him.  But he did stick it out.

For more on praying the Daily Office.

http://www.richardliantonio.com/blog/2009/08/how-to-pray-the-daily-office-from-the-book-of-common-prayer-part-2-introducing-the-book-of-common-prayer/

For when you don't think you'll have enough

Full disclosure:  I don’t have a back to school ritual for my child.  When I learned this weekend that all good mothers have these in place for their children, I was crestfallen.  To say that I find meaning in the ritual is an understatement.  Narrative and ritual give meaning to the contradictory nature of our lives.  Most who know me well also know that once for kicks and giggles, I took an Anthropology of Religion course and a class in the Power of Liturgy.  Currently I am re-reading Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals Weaving together the Human and Divine just because.  I guess it is apparent by now that religion or theology should have been my major, not nursing.  I don’t know how people manage to make a living teaching people about the power of ritual, but (and by now given my experience on LinkedIn, it should not be), you can be a ritual coach.  If I can ever figure out how to pay bills doing that, I would be living my passion.  Maybe that is why I like baseball so much.  Storytelling and ritualizing, construct meaning, build community and order experience.    So, when I learned on Sunday that I don’t have a back to school ritual, well, I almost need a grief ritual for all the ritual I missed incorporating. 

And I have also been known to once or twice dress to impress another mother, think twice about what my kid wore to school to impress another mother, and compare myself to other mothers.  This is kind of ridiculous when you think about it.  Just thinking I may have missed a great parenting moment; I had to quiz every mother I could think of about their back to school rituals.  Guess what?  They all had one or two.  Of course upon learning this, I perseverated about creating a ritual for back to school.  Probably starting high school is a little late to introduce a new ritual.   I decided that since Davis didn’t know he was supposed to have a back to school ritual, and then probably the lack of a back to school ritual would never be the topic of therapy.   My whole goal in parenting.  Not to be the topic of therapy.  Okay, not my whole goal, but at least in the top five.

And isn’t that at the crux of all our struggles?  Comparing ourselves to others and seeking approval or trying to prove we are more than the other.    Comparison shopping never works.  At least not in human and divine terms.   Approval seeking will always fail.   Because at the end of the day we are all still human and at the end of the day, I think we are all trying to do the best we can.  And that is enough.  We are all a mess.  We really can’t have it all.  I know you have all seen the woman on TV who says you can have a brilliant career, be mother of year,  selflessly volunteer in India four times a year, pray two hours a day, love your maddening husband who relentlessly channel surfs passionately every single day of your life, and wear a size 6, BUT you can’t.   I remind myself as I eat my third piece of brown sugar pie (yep-brown sugar pie, it has a whole box of brown sugar in it and that is another story for another day), we all get a slice of pie.  All of us have some thing not every thing to be joyful about.  Abundance is in all of our lives every single day.   There is always plenty of pie to go around. 

And God said it was good...

For the Rowes-Our Beach Buddies



Show of hands.  How many of you have ever continued eating just to keep your blood sugar hovering around 742 just so you wouldn't have to experience the crash?  I have and do about three times a year.  Tonight I am experiencing the crash and it is not pretty but worth it.  I began eating and drinking at about 6 pm Thursday.  My co workers were amazed that Vance and I could drive to Wrightsville Beach in 3 hours and 15 minutes.  (Would have been there in 3 hours and 5 mins had it not been for the traffic light at 74). Because, I have such a wonderful girlfriend who happens to be my beach buddy, drinks, snacks, made up beds were waiting.  I didn't stop eating and drinking until 3 pm today.  I don't know why stuffing myself and over drinking makes me feel so good, but it does.  And I am really glad I gave up wearing fitted waist bands about 14 years ago with the birth of Davis.  Elastic is my friend. 
I love the beach.  Everything about it.  The smell.  The salt air.  The humidity.  The heat.  How horrible my hair looks the entire time.  That I don't care what I have on or who sees me in a bathing suit.  Wearing flip flops everywhere, (even church).  Sunburns.  Laying in the sun.  The waves.  Sand in my ears and between my toes.  Getting tossed by waves and loosing my suit twice.  Davis did warn me it was rough out there.  Watching waves mindlessly.  (The only thing more perfect is if they played MLB on the beach.  Can you imagine?  Watching baseball mindlessly on the beach with the waves in the background?  Heaven.  Pure heaven).  Outdoor showers.  Cool mornings that require a cashmere sweater on the porch but by 11 am, nice and toasty outside.  Porch sitting.  People watching.  Talking about nothing and everything.  Eating everything and trying drink comibinations you would never try at home. 
I would describe dinner Thrusday as tapas.  We ate proscuitto wrapped around mozerella, guacamole, fresh salsa (and I mean fresh), pimento cheese that was probably the best I have tasted in a long, long time toasted on baguettes, carrots (we were trying to keep it healthy), fresh key lime tarts (I don't think they are any better in Key West), the absolute best peanut butter cookies I have ever tasted, freezer Pizza (the kids had to eat something substantial), some type of double chocolate fudge tart kind of a thing, skinny mojitos (Had to cut calories somewhere), purple Jesus (that is what Davis calls it), rosemary bread with some incredible chicken salad, Vance had beer, the kids had caffeine and water, and I might have even eaten some sunflower seeds.  We ate and drank until 11 pm.  My lips were numb and I had to loosen a button.  So, I am guessing my blood sugar was about 501 when I went to bed. 
I woke up and ate a carrot muffin, a fresh peach, drank hot plum tea and then we went to brunch at the best breakfast place on the planet.  The Causeway Cafe.  What to order when you want everything on the menu?  I suggest everything.  One of each.  Which is exactly what I did.  The Eggs Benedict just doesn't get any better.  So I had half an order.  Which also comes with these hashbrowns that are heaven on a plate. My friend ordered the french toast just so I could have a bite.  My husband ordered the Hungry Man Special.  I do so love bacon.  Actually, I just love pork in any form.  Davis ordered his fave- M&M pancakes with eggs and bacon.  Merritt ordered the Hungry Man Special.  I am also quite very fond of the sausage gravy.  I only know of one other cook who does it better and she lives in Abington, Va.  I ate a whole bowl once.  Her secret is fresh sage from the garden.  But, the gravy at the Causeway is tough to beat.  So, I had half an order which fortunately for me comes with grits.  (They are good-but not as good as mine).  So by about 1 pm, my glucose is hovering around 650 and I am feeling pretty good.  Since, it was raining cats and dogs and there would be no beach walking today and it was quite chilly, I had to go shopping at my favorite haunt Redix.  Cashmere was 65% OFF.  Lucky me.  I was cold and it didn't appear to be warming anytime soon and the brown one had these lovely square buttons, so it just had to be mine.  I have always wanted to wear cashmere with linen on the beach.  Always and now I have.  The weather broke a little about three and me and my beach peep headed down, drinks in hand and wrapped up in our cashmere sweaters and watched the dolphins swim and the waves crash which I might add were pretty impressive.  We brough along a few crackers, pretzels, grapes, just to keep us on an even keel.  I was still drinking my skinny mojito and she was drinking grape Vodka and cranberry.  The weather was dreary but the company was great.  We discussed everything from the state of politics and why is there so much anger, our kids starting high school Monday and maybe we didn't do a lot right, but we raised good kids and clearly fed them well.  We discussed friends battling cancer, the changing Church and how I feel so very lost and just don't know what to do.  We discussed religious pluralism and the latest linen blouse we each bought.  We discussed her new IPhone (I'm thinking I am going to upgrade).   Caught up on our respective families.  Laughed lots.  Compared middle age notes.  It sure as hell beats our thrities.  Smiled a babies and wished we had one to hold but only for an hour or two.  She gave me sound advice about no asking open ended questions anymore.  It gets me emotionally hooked everytime.  She gave me sound advice about taking care of me and not trying to take care of all the strays that show up in my life. 
As soon as Alan arrived, we cooked dinner.  Charcoal grilled filets, ribeyes and chicken.  The pist de resistance-smother pimento cheese on that filet right before you take it off the grill.  Yum.  Yum.  Roasted rosemary potatoes and corn on the cob that was so sweet it must have just been picked that day.  We agreed it was the best of the summer.  Of course, drinking.  Desert involved key lime tarts, pecan tarts, chocolate tarts and I think the kids went to get ice cream.  We were pleased that we have raised good kids who still like to eat with us and still laugh with us and tell funny stories.  Of course, this might have something to do with the fact that we have fed them well.  Very well.  Davis has also been blessed growing up going to some of the great sporting events.  He asked, "Oh really, which ones?"  Hmm, The Orange Bowl for starters, The NFC Championship Game, Seats behind home plate at the Braves game, The ACC championship game, a couple of major golf events,  Have seen every team in the ACC play men's basketball more than once, ACC World Series, NBA game with the Spurs, WBNA game where you met Marvin in person and talked trash to him.  So, my dear son you have been to few.  Just saying.  Not to mention where you have gotten to play baseball. 
The kids were sharing stories of the night we kept them out to 130 am (they were 4) and they were having a complete melt down on the ride home.  The 15 minute ride from hell.  At one point, Merritt told Davis to shut up because he didn't have to wear duck tape all over his body.  (She was being treated for a skin condition).  I think they like us.  The kids I mean.  And this is good, very good.  I once made the mistake of taking Davis and Merritt to a scary movie while the adults went to an adult movie.  Both children sat in my lap with there heads buried in my chest the entire time.  Another shining parenting moment.  The movie-Lemony Snickets.  They were 4. 
We have been doing this beach trips about for 10 years now and sometimes don't make it every year, but I try to committ to it.  We have a lifetime of memories, laughs, growing old together, watching children grow up and few pounds between us. 
Saturday was overcast but a beautiful day for the beach.  The waves were 8 to 10 feet.  Not kidding.  Never seen them that high.  Riptide brutal.  The surfers were impressive.  It was a show.  Played bocci ball which I discovered I am much better at after a couple of purple Jesus.  Vance watched pretty bikinis (not mine) and asked Alan to name the color for him.  Vance can be a regenerate at times.  Kids ran in and out of the surf.  Played frisbee.  Ate well.  Our snacks were gourmet popcorn, honey mustard pretzels, provolone, deli sliced fresh turkey, fresh bread, pimento cheese, chicken salad and assorted cookies.
Squeezed in a little LL Baseball.  Pitching was a little lacking this year I thought.  But Sara reminds me I am a purist.
So about 7 pm we went to dinner, I figure by this time I have kept a steady blood sugar of 742 and I feel good.  Hot Crab dip, hot crab cakes, stuffed oysters, coconut shrimp for appetizers.  I had Blackened Black drum with mango salsa over beans and rice.  Melted in my mouth.  Made me want to slap my momma kind of good.  Don't see Black Drum on menu often.  Not sure why but if you ever get the chance...it is a must.  Had desert again.  This time banana cream pie and red velvet cake. 
So all this eating and drinking had me in bed early and I woke early only to eat a carrot muffin and peach on the porch.  Stopped at Savory Cafe on the way out and ate sausage, bacon, onion quiche and another cupcake.  Scrumptous. 
Beach bumming with friends not a better way to end a summer.  Eating till you are full.  Drinking till you are full.  Laughing till you pee in your pants.  Runnging hard at waves and letting them carry you across the sand.  Sitting on the beach in a cashmere sweater.  Refusing to let gray skies ruin a day.  Our big opinion of the day...We hate TATOOS.  That is about the extent of our opinion.  Remembering the kids little, seeing them half grown and knowing in 4 years, it will just be the four us.  Adults.  Beach Party alone. 
And of course the Psalm for today just happen to be: 

Psalm 148¹ 

Praise the Lord.^[a]

Praise the Lord from the heavens;
    praise him in the heights above.
² Praise him, all his angels;
    praise him, all his heavenly hosts.
³ Praise him, sun and moon;
    praise him, all you shining stars.
⁴ Praise him, you highest heavens
    and you waters above the skies.

⁵ Let them praise the name of the Lord,
    for at his command they were created,
⁶ and he established them for ever and ever—
    he issued a decree that will never pass away.

⁷ Praise the Lord from the earth,
    you great sea creatures and all ocean depths, ⁸ lightning and hail, snow and clouds,
    stormy winds that do his bidding,
⁹ you mountains and all hills,
    fruit trees and all cedars,
¹⁰ wild animals and all cattle,
    small creatures and flying birds,¹² young men and women,
    old men and children.

¹³ Let them praise the name of the Lord,
    for his name alone is exalted;
    his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.
¹⁴ And he has raised up for his people a horn,^[b]
    the praise of all his faithful servants,
    of Israel, the people close to his heart.

Praise the Lord.

I like to think I was close to God's heart this weekend.  I like to think God was celebrating right there with and can't wait to come next year.  I know he has been watching us all grow up and hope he is pleased.  Because I think I heard as I pulled away today....

IT WAS VERY GOOD.

Confessions of a nurse

One of my favorite scenes in any movie is from Misery.  Kathy Bates plays the psychotic woman who has taken a man hostage and is torturing him in a cabin.  I don't remember exactly why she wanted to torture him just that she did and that she was a nurse.   My favorite scene is when Kathy tells this fellow not to get out of bed.  If I had a dime for everytime I said that.  He gets out of bed anyway and falls. He was actually trying to escape.  And if I had a dime for everytime a confused patient told me that. Kathy finds him, (of course), on the floor.  And if I had dime for everytime that happened to me.  She puts him back in bed and then proceeds to calmly tell him "I told you not to get out of bed" (and if I had a dime for everytime I have said that), and then she hobbles him.  So, I guess by now I figured I would have about an extra 10 thousand dollars to my name.  I have never hobbled a patient, but I did casually suggest to a quality assurance committee once that maybe the answer to reducing falls in the hospital was airing the scene from Misery with the comment:  " FULL DISCLOSURE: Kathy in serviced all of our nurses on reducing falls and we are happy to report an increase in referrals to the orthopedic department.  WE ARE COMMITTED TO YOUR SAFETY AND OUR SANITY."

So, it was no surprise to me yesterday, when that sock went sailing past  my head, that I considered hobbling.  I murmured to myself instead, "at least it was Nike"  I was not at all pleased and was somewhat grossed out because it was a dirty sock off a patient's foot and since he wasn't kinfolk, I really wanted to gag.  That being said, if one of my kin (especially Davis or Vance), tossed a dirty sock at me, I wouldn't have to reconsider hobbling.

The good news is that my personality type serves me so very well in these situations that one can never tell I am put out, unless I put my hands on my hips and take my earrings off.  Then watch out.  If I have to put my hands on my hips and take my earrings off,  I have eclipsed being put off and am fully in the I am so angry I might have to shorten your life mode.  Yesterday, I put my hands on my hips but didn't take my earrings off.  But thought about it.

If you are alot like me and I suspect you are, many, many things annoy you in a given day.  Many.  Sometimes it seems as if we are annoyed more than we are pleased.  And I suspect if you are like me, you know many people in your everyday life who live in annoyed mode.  And even that annoys me.  And all the horrible names I was calling this patient in my head reminded me of Balaam.
One of my favorite stories in the Old Testatment is the story of Balaam.  It is an odd story.  It is this extraordinary episode with the angel and the donkey - the donkey, terrified, trying to run away and only getting itself into a narrow twitten down between two fields, so it's stuck. And Balaam hitting the donkey - well, you would, wouldn't you? And the donkey opening its mouth and speaking to Balaam in human speech. And the angel being cross with him, as though it was his own fault he couldn't see him. The donkey at one point sits down in the road and refuses to move and one version the donkey kicks Balaam. (BTW at the end of story even though Balaam did what God said, he gets put to death for it.  Just sayin'.  That obedience thing is pretty hard core).  So it was no surprise to me that I remembered hearing Rich Mullins tell the story of a college professor who tells the story of Balaam a little differently.

“I had a professor one time... He said, 'Class, you will forget almost everything I will teach you in here, so please remember this: that God spoke to Balaam through his ass, and He has been speaking through asses ever since. So, if God should choose to speak through you, you need not think too highly of yourself. And, if on meeting someone, right away you recognize what they are, listen to them anyway'.”
― Rich Mullins

I guess the man spoke to me through that sock.   It reminded me that I could choose to spend the rest of the day annoyed about a petty little thing or I could see the joy of the rest the day.  Thinking about the donkey story made me choose the latter.  Listen to those annoying people anyway.  Just sayin'.

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Would Jesus Tweet?

Read an article this week about how to be a social media climber.  It is a free, easy way to market yourself. Cultivating a digital image of yourself can help you land a job, nab a book deal or have more social invitations.  Apparently, I need a Twitter, YouTube, Pinterest, and LinkedIn account.  I have the latter.  I learned that to be consider successful on LinkedIn, I need no less than 75 connections and I have to have a profile pic. On LinkedIn it is important to establish yourself as an authority, of what I don't know.  You should also follow threads and answer them.  The authority thing is a little suspect to me, since everyone I have observed on LinkedIn is a coach of some sort.  From business exec to life to relationship to marriage to spiritual and this was my personal fave- a courage coach.  I suppose if I were to think real hard about what I might have some expertise in, it would be dying.  But then who wants a dying coach?  I guess I might be able to coach someone through nursing school, but I might tend to ask all the wrong questions.  Like-Are you sure you don't like to eat lunch?  Are bathroom breaks a priority in your life?  And I promise you, there always is one thing everyday that will shock the hell out of you and you never get used to the smell.  Never.

I have a general rule of thumb about social media.  If I couldn't recognize you in a line-up, then I probably don't need to have you as a Facebook friend.  My rule for LinkedIn is, I need to have actually shared a real conversation and maybe a meal with you.  I also wouldn't connect with anyone I couldn't or wouldn't personally vouch for.  Very prudish rules, I  know.  But social media is growing fast and is wildly popular.  It is kind of addicting too.  I have a Facebook friend who posts so much during the work day, I don't know how she gets any work done.  I have another friend who literally never puts her phone down and constantly checks messages.   I also read an article this week and this completely grossed me out, that 89% of all phones cultured have e-coli, c-diff and shigella present on the mouth and ear pieces. For my non-medical readers, e-coli (strain 0157 to be exact), will make you very, very sick.  C-diff can kill you especially if you are neutropenic and shigella can cause a wicked intestinal infection that can make cholera look like a cake walk.   Word to wise, clean that cell phone everyday with alcohol and bleach of some sort.  Also, you might not want to answer it in the bathroom and I know everyone reading this has heard someone do just that. 

I suspect Jesus would have a Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter account.  His profile for Facebook might look something like this:

Education:  Solomon's Temple
Work: Itinerant Preacher, Carpenter, Wine maker, Vineyard dresser, Baker of Bread and Messiah
Living: Nazareth and Galilee and spent a little time at a stable in Bethlehem
Religious Views:  Jewish Reformer
Relationship Status:  Friend of sinners
Favorite Quote:  "Love one another..."

His LinkedIn connection:  God and God alone.

I learned that the best hours for tweeting are between 2pm and 5pm. Tweet 5 to 10 times a day and also tweet back.  It is best to stay engaged with loyal followers than worry about annoying people.  Avoid chiming in unless it is new and relevant. And don't tweet cryptic messages. Research shows that when someone untweets someone, it is because they are dull.  Who knew?  I think Jesus would tweet.  And followers...well there would be multitudes...tweets like...

Love one another, wash feet, the rest is commentary.

Pray.

You really do have all you need for today.

Give thanks in all things.

If you're not feeling it, do it anyway.

Be at peace and know a Good God is everywhere.

Providence and prosperity don't always go hand in hand.

The beauty is in the suffering.

You only have what you give away.  So give it all away.

Greater love has no one than the one who lays down his life for another.

Never be afraid to be broken, God only uses the broken.



Graces given today in abundance...

Mercy
Love
Strangers who love through blogs, facebook, twitter and one day in heaven it will be perfect
Hamburgers again at Fitz on Main
Davis saying after his third day of weight training...."My legs feel so weird, I don't think they will hold me up."
Watermelon
Freshly baked banana bread
The maples beginning to turn
And Facebook and Twitter just might be a mirror of the Kingdom of God
Smash Books

In Christ Alone

For Nick and Brittany-  remember your vows and keep them holy....



In the midst of planning,  life happens...and sometimes we forget to stop and breathe and just inhale and watch the breathtaking grace of the moment...but not yesterday....

So I walked into that kitchen and asked,  "Are we cooking yet?"  Truthfully, I could smell the food and see that they were, I just wanted to double check.  She asked, "Who are you?"  I answered, "I am a bride who didn't have food at her reception and we drank koolaid and tea out of salad bowls. Oh, and Jesus wasn't on my guest list. "  On Friday, the gospel reading was "The Miracle at Cana."  (Not kidding.  This made me chuckle since I was attending a wedding on Saturday, and I guess that is why the good Lord in all his wisdom has the story written down, so we read and remember).

You remember the story.  Only the writer of the gospel of John tells it.  And maybe that is why John is my most favorite gospel. His is a theological gospel, rich with symbolism and metaphor and there is always more to the story.  He never portrays Jesus as in a hurry, like Mark's account or kingly as in Matthew account.  In John, Jesus is a lot like me, doing everyday things.  Going to weddings.  Crying.  Laughing.  Praying.  Eating.  Talking.  Slow. And the Jesus of John's gospel is deep and has rich relationships with people.  Of course, I, unlike Jesus can't turn water into wine or heal.  I can talk alot though and eat.  And I don't really like to rush through once in a lifetime events.  And I love Mary and so did John apparently.

A simple village wedding taking place one Wednesday afternoon as laid down in the Jewish Law. It certainly wasn't like my wedding, and I guess it probably wasn't like yours because it went on for days. The actual ceremony took place after the feast and at the height of the festivities. Then the happy couple would be escorted to their new home using the most tortuous route possible. They'd be illuminated by the light of flaming torches, so that everyone in the village could share in their happiness and presumably throw the 1st century equivalent of confetti. It didn't end there either, because there was no sneaking off for a honeymoon. Oh no, for the next week the newly weds would have to hold open house, still dressed in bridal clothes and with crowns on their heads. They were treated like King and Queen and for that glorious week their word was law. In a land where there was poverty and constant hard work to scrape a living from the soil, this was a week to remember for the rest of their lives.  As weddings should be.  A day to remember for the rest of  your lives. 

Mary was probably a friend of the family and was helping.  I can just imagine Mary running around making sure everything is  going well.  The bride's mother could have been a life long friend or a cousin.  We are not told.  Just that Mary wanted the wedding to be perfect. Jesus is also invited. But Jesus doesn't come alone, he brings five disciples with him, five more mouths to feed and five more glasses to fill. Maybe that's where the well laid plans started to go wrong and Mary suddenly realized that there wasn't going to be enough wine.  Who knows or it could have been like my wedding and the food that  had been prepared had been served the night before. 

I was totally oblivious to the lack of food at my wedding.  So was Vance.  But my mom was not.  She is still quite traumatized (17 years later), that guests had to drink kool aid.  My brother in law was pleased as punch (no pun intended),  and thought it so cool that we had iced tea at our wedding. He didn't know that was not on the original menu list. I laugh now and my mom does too, but our favorite wedding picture is that of guests opening up the chafing dishes and looking in puzzlement because they were empty!  My sister in law remembers the caterers chasing my dad down with two steamships of round after Vance and I had left! 

So, yesterday when I went to double check tables and play with flowers,  I just wanted to be sure the food was there.  I had no idea what I was going to do if it wasn't, but I figured since I had read the gospel the day before, maybe Jesus would show up and work a miracle or two.  Just like Mary.  She didn't know how Jesus was going to fix the problem, just that he would.

And yes, Jesus did show up, but he didn't have to cook or make wine.  In fact, he didn't have to do anything at all but smile.  And I suppose he was singing and I know he was dancing, we just can't see him in the flesh, on this side of the resurrection.  But I know he was there. 

Jesus quite simply walked in to the sanctuary of Kernersville Moravian Church at 3:30 pm yesterday and sat down and smiled.  But, he had come long before that too.  He came the day she was born.  The angels danced and sang round the throne.  And because her parents promised years before, she lived into that promise.  He came long before that too.  I am sure the groom played and laughed and grew up just like Jesus did.  He made snow angels, giggled when the girls walked past, played catch, heard the stories of King David and wondered and promised to be a man after God's own heart.  And because his parents promised years before, probably in pale candlelight too, he lived into that promise.  That is how Jesus works miracles, my friends.  He lives into promises we make on behalf of our children we don't even have names for yet.  And when the minister sang blessings upon their heads, Jesus smiled again at that blessing and promise too.  And because, we believe in that grace of that moment, the blessing one day, years from now will bear much fruit.  Some of us will see that from this side of the resurrection and some of us from heaven.  And those witnesses who have gone on before us, smiled down in joy and were dancing in heaven watching another wedding miracle take place.

All weddings are miracles of grace really.  And the piano sung it for us...the secret to success in any marriage... the glue that will hold you together...the bond that is stronger than human love...the miracle in all the promises made before God in holy moments....

We can only keep those promises when we remember this....

In Christ alone...

Only in Christ can we love our spouses till death parts us.
Only in Christ can we forgive our spouses again and again.
Only in Christ can we become humble and love them as Christ loves Church.
Only in Christ can we actually make good on that promise to choose our spouse over own self. 

Those of us ten, fifteen or twenty plus years this side of marriage, smiled and thought about all the joy and trials that are to come.  The dreams they have that will come true, the disappointment, the joys, the sorrow.  And those of us on this side of the wedding day...know this to be very true and send them out in grace to learn it...only in Christ can you actually make good on those promises.  Because, by yourself you won't do it.  You can't.  In Christ alone.

And after we all were blessed and smiled and prayed and hugged and cried tears of absolute joy of the wonder of the miracle of Cana taking place before our very eyes again...we partied just like Jesus and his five friends did that day in Cana.

We danced and ate and laughed and drank and there was plenty of food and wine....and those of us on the other side of forty even managed to dance our booties off with the those who were twenty something and young and didn't have kids yet. And it was an amazing grace to watch unfold and to know that only In Christ alone can those kind of miracles happen. And maybe it was because I read the gospel the night before and was reminded, or maybe it was the music was glorious, or maybe it because in that very room there was quite enough love for all of us, or maybe because the bride was stunning and the bridesmaids wore beautiful and maybe because the flowers and pale candlelight made everything and everyone look even more lovely and really it was because Jesus was in the midst of it all and quite certainly it was because they started there life out together with the hymn...In Christ Alone....

may you always remember your vows and keep them holy and when the two of your hearts are bursting with more joy that you can contain and when you are tired and don't know how the two of you will make it through the next day...always remember the hymn that started your journey together....and it will be ok and place it in the hands of the One who will turn the water into wine without having to know how exactly that is going to happen...


all is grace,

kathleen

to hear the hymn that should be sung at every wedding:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsgwfliQoqg

What your kids will really say about you

Someone meets me at the door as soon as I walk in from work and asks, "What's for dinner?  Do we have to eat cereal again?" 
Somebody whines and says why do I have them fold the towels and when they never even use any towels and I think it best not to ask when was the last time they had a bath?
Somebody tells me they forgot to clean their room and clean out the litter box and start the laundry and feed the cat. 
At least I fed the cat yesterday. 
Where does my menu planning go in late July or August?  I wish I could be one of those face book mothers who make 12 crock pot dinners in two hours and put them in the freezer and only go to the grocery store once a week.  I read about it, print them off, but never do it.  I can't find two straight hours in a day.  And my kid doesn't take naps in the afternoon anymore. 
Who knew that no matter what age, kids  need to fed, watered and groomed?  Everyday.  Even on vacation. I still stand in amazement that husbands and children expect dinner every night, when I could just skip it.  And why can't we order take out every night.
And while I can do very, very hard things,  I can not do easy things like getting gas.  I hate to get gas.  I don't know why.  First, you can never read the screen because of the glare, second the fumes  always get on my hands and then inevitably no matter what pump I choose, it is always out of service  or I have to walk inside.  I hate to fold clothes.  If it were left solely up to me, I would leave them in the laundry basket forever and do away with drawers.  I hate to load the dishwasher and I have been known to re run it, just because I didn't feel like unloading it. 
So, I just hide out on the toilet lid and sob and sob and try to lower my raised blood pressure and figure out what we are going to eat.  I try to blame my stress and anxiety way too often on work.  I was a hospice nurse during all of Davis' elementary and middle school years.  I went back to school full time when he was in the eighth grade and choose to work on an oncology unit.  But the truth is, I am just a broken person who forgets that I don't have to do it all and only by the grace of God do I accomplish anything on any given day anyway.  I am a broken person who all too often thinks it all depends on me and none of it depends on God.    
I’m a stressed mom. I’m stressed too often. I worry that Davis’s most prominent memory of his childhood will be my contorted anxiety face walking in the house and snapping at him when he tells me homework is not done, the cat is hungry and he forgot to bathe again.  At times he asks me, “Mama, are you stressed?” Sometimes he tells Vance when he comes home: “Mom is all jacked up today."  So, maybe the stressed mom will be the story Davis will  tell.   But, right alongside it, let him also tell of the mom who prayed on toilet lid, "Lord have mercy on me, a sinner."   Let him tell the story of the mom who sat in her  chair at night and clutched her Book of Common Prayer and just really cried before God.  "Only in you, Lord can there be perfect peace."  Let him tell the story of the mom who reminded every night "say your prayers."  And let me be the mom who tells the story of Davis, "Mom prayer is alot like bread.  You should use like you eat bread and milk." 

Nothing hard

I met him about 9 years ago in a used bookstore.   I wanted someone wise to tell me how to have enough time.   I wanted to know the secret of finding the sacred in everything and how to believe it was enough.  It was Kathleen Norris who introduced me to him.  I was reading, "The Cloister Walk", and she told me that the Benedictines always believed there was enough time in each day for work, study, rest and prayer.  I envied Norris’ proximity to a Benedictine monastery where she would go to pray with them.  As a mother who worked full time outside the home, and someone who cared way too much what others thought of her, and someone who on any given day was known to have crying fits because, well just because, I was intrigued by the idea of a life rule.    I am by no means an expert on Benedictine spirituality or even well read on the subject, but I do have a lot of books with the word Benedictine in the title.  I did read a biography on St. Benedict once and I must confess if I ever went to the divinity school, I would be tempted to research his life.  I also would absolutely love for bells to ring seven times a day to remind me to pray.  (And yes, I am well aware there is an app for that, but that defeats the point I think).

I wonder what he would say about my life or the lives of American Christians today.  I come from a place that says if you love Jesus; you must shout it really, really loud and wear a bracelet that asks WWJD or a lapel pin that says Jesus is the reason for the season.   I live in a world that cannot be without for one moment:  constant noise, constant electronic access to everything and anything and anyone, iPhones, computers, TV, electronic media.  I have been known to stay up too late and drink way too much caffeine just to finish a blog and writing isn’t even my full time job and I would starve if it were.  What would he say about my son who plays Call of Duty or Black Ops?  What would he say about our intense obsession with social media and our inability to be silent for a moment?

Benedict was known for his sound reason.  I need more reason in my life.  In the Bible belt south, Christianity taught me that if I love Jesus, I must shout it really loud and the louder I shout, the more Jesus loves me.  My Christian culture taught me to go out alone and do something really big for God and that doing something great and individual and all by myself proved my worth.  I come from a culture that demands short term mission trips to every corner of the world, working at the Food Bank four times a year, praying really, long flowery prayers, committing to Bible studies that last longer and are more involved than any divinity school course, choosing CHURCH above everything and proving that my “right” is “righter” than your “right.”  My culture tells me that I am measured by how much I do and how much I produce.

Your wisdom said prefer nothing to Christ.    You said nothing matters but that I love Christ and that the work of God…is  PRAYER. You said nothing was more glorified than humility.  You said be quiet and say little.  You said welcome everyone as if or did you mean they are Christ?   I think you did.  You said that nothing should be harsh or burdensome.  You said nothing mattered more than charity, kindness and gentleness. 

And my favorite thing that you said…Always we begin again.  Always we begin again.  Every day is a new beginning.  You knew the secret of time was realizing we have enough time for work, study, prayer and REST.  You knew the secret of the abundant life was living in the moment and that the best future was a thankful now.  You knew that more, better, faster, noisier wasn’t going to provide enough.  You knew that really all Christ expects is that we love him.  You knew that community was the only way we grow up.  You knew that humility and gentleness and simple kindness was the only way to have a good life. 

I don’t know my dear friend Benedict if you would have had a blog, an iPhone, and Facebook friends, drank Starbucks twice daily, worked 80 hours a week or served on a church committee.  I don’t know dear Benedict if you would have shared your collective wisdom on twitter, worked on vacation or slept less than six hours a day.  I don’t know if the only community you would have had would have been electronic or if you would have had five email accounts.  I don’t know what you would have thought about social media or if you would have used the app to remind you to pray seven times a day.  I don’t know what you would have thought about all the challenges facing the postmodern church or just the challenges facing the mom who just wants to raise grounded kids, be Godly and love her family and friends to the best of her ability, but I do know you would have said the solution is this:

Prefer nothing to the love of Christ.
Be quiet.  Say little.
Pray often.
Practice humility.
Be kind.
Be gentle.
Welcome everyone.
Sleep.
Eat.
Work.
Pray.
Love.


All is grace and grateful for the present moment…the now of…

Gifts in August that are white:
Basil flowers
The next to the last full moon of summer
Heavy Cream
Gifts that are eaten:
Homemade vanilla ice cream made with fresh cream and vanilla bean
Tomatoes eaten in the garden just after you pick them before you get them inside
Grilled pork chops
Gifts in water:
dish detergent suds
shampoo
ice
Gifts at 10 am, 1 pm, 10 pm:
Asked:  would you have the surgery?
The movie:  The Perfect Game starring Cheech Marin as a priest!
Sleeping
Gifts sitting down
Tyler Perry’s Madea Movies
Rubbing Vaseline on your feet
Breathing

What if God were your girlfriend?

There are just times in your life when nobody but a girlfriend will do.  Who else understands the frantic feeling when you find your first grey hair or in my case your first hormone hair?  And I know some of my girlfriends don't know yet what a hormone hair is and this distresses me too...Who else understands why you you are obsessing over..."Can you believe she said that to me?"  Who else would listen patiently to your senseless, petty life dramas?  Who else understands why you dress up more for a play date than dinner with your husband?  Who else understands why you tear up every single time you hear the Olympic theme song and get so caught up in Bob Costa's cheesy dramas about Olympic athletes?  Who else can feel your indignation over petty work dramas?  Who else understands exactly why you need another white blouse and black dress?  I almost texted my friend who loves shoes and would shop endlessly with me for another black dress, when I found this perfect black dress from Columbia for $17.95.  It had been $175.00.  It fit perfectly.  It was made out of that incredible dry fit, omni sport, sun protection fabric, had a pocket, wrinkle resistant AND I PROMISE you could wear this from an interview for the job you really want to the ballfield and out to dinner with your husband or BFF and look great.  I can't wait to show it to her.  She will love it.  The only reason I didn't stop mid purchase and text her...I was going to be late getting Davis to his yearly physical because of the dress.  She would also laugh and understand why I stopped at home to change into that dress just to impress  Davis' doctor that I really am a wonderful, competant, caring, above average mother of a teenager who makes sure he gets the right amount of sleep, eats a healthy breakfast every morning, doesn't play too many video games, never drinks Mountain Dew and  loves salad for dinner.   Girlfriends always are the first to tell you why it is not your fault and maybe you should consider dating someone who doesn't look like an action hero figure.  Girlfriends will also show up with dinner cooked for your kids, clean your house and hold your hand while you puke your guts out from chemo.  Girlfriends will help you shave your head too when you are getting your first round of chemo.  Girlfriends will also be the first to tell  you...he really is just not that into you OR she really is an emotional vampire and perhaps you need a new lunch buddy.  A girlfriend will also remid you that TRUTH always works... and it really isn't in your best interest to jump out of your car and engage in a fist fight with the woman who cut you off on I-40.  A girlfriend will also grab your arm and prevent you from slapping the woman who jeered your son while pitching at a baseball game.  She will remind you just how horrible you look in orange and while you don't mind peeing in front of other women, it gets old real quick.   A girlfriend is also the only one who will go and pack your underwear, makeup and pjs for an emergency stay at a hospital because she knows your hubby couldn't.  A girlfriend will keep all your secrets, shave your legs when you are on bedrest or too sick to do so and paint your toenails.   A girlfriend also will never tell you that you shouldn't have that second piece of cheesecake or pizza AND you don't worry about what she thinks when you do.  And your girlfriend always reminds you that the devil can't be all your back if you shake him off. 

But that is exactly what God wants.  To be our girlfriend.  God wants us to text heaven seventy five times a day with the latest gossip and complain bitterly about how dirty our house is, how busy we are, worry needlessly about our kids, and share intimately about how insecure we are about our hair, dress, house, parenting abilities and how distant at times we feel from our spouse or just everyone in general.  God also shows up at the hospital when you are facing an uncertain diganosis, fearful because your child didn't come home last night, hugs you when you need it the most, tells you how great you look and doesn't care if your house isn't Southern Living worthy.  God does this best by...girlfriends...and prayer(the spiritual form of twitter or instanogram).  Hug your girlfriend and give thanks for her. 

August Joys

Gifts that are white....the full moon, big fluffy clouds, buffalo mozzarella cheese, grits, the blossom on basil, cream cheese, toothpaste, the pages of the BCP, cotton balls, q-tips, blouses, lotion, baseballs, chalk, milk...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieVIW_NQoH0