She is one of the most intriguing people I know. But secretly, I always feel inadequate around her. She makes everything look effortless. In reality, I know this not to be the case, for life is hard. But she is intelligent, always has a clean house, remembers everyone's birthdays, cooks from scratch and looks amazing. She is one of those super moms we wish we could all be. My house is never clean. I can cook from scratch but rarely do. I am lucky to remember my own child's birthday and if it weren't for facebook, I would not remember half of what it appears I do. Last week was my anniversary and I didn't remember until the morning of. My hair only looks amazing if I pay Justin to style it and that only lasts till bedtime. My son forgets his manners, homework, refuses to bathe regularly, eats junk for dinner and breakfast and his room is never clean. I did have him vaccinated (and I am well aware of the medical debate on that one). Truthfully I guess I can not take credit for that since the pediatrician actually did it, I just held him down. And like Tina Fey, I pray regularly that the good Lord will protect him from having any Chinese symbol for wisdom tatoo or a rose tatoo with the name of some girl he thought he would love forever. I freely admit we have had popcorn for dinner and not on family movie night either. And I did allow his wrestling mania phase against my better judgement and prayers were answered, he outgrew it. I am sure he watches too much TV, plays too many war games and has not read enough of the classics. But he does know how to write a thank you note, diagram a sentence, give a hug and say thank you. But a wise mother, she knows this one secret:
"A wise mother knows what powerful man can forget-the way to move heaven and earth isn't with a strong arm but with a bowed head." Ann Voskamp
Motherhood, thankfully is not about perfection. Because you will fail. It is what you do with the failures that matter. Motherhood does not come with a superman cape either and here is where we can help each other. Remind each other that motherhood can spin you in circles and thankfully we are all encircled by Grace. Remind each other that motherhood is hard and we can do hard things. Remind each other of the promise written by the prophet Isaiah:
"He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young..."
So remember how much your Creator loves you and that mothering just requires committment and that really and truly it is His love that grows us all...
And all mothers know this:
"Mothers, preachers and prophets doggedly believe that leopards can lose spots and grace and angels can make pigs fly. And mothers they never stop believing in the miracle of change and believing in the miracle of change is the sum total of a mother's job and the theological term for that is faith. " Ann Voskamp
All is grace,
Grateful for mothers everywhere....
Kathleen
In case you need a good laugh:
A Prayer for all Mothers
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Go back to the place where you last knew who you were
I really can not believe that at the age of 22 the state of NC gave me a license to practice nursing. My mom wanted me to be a school teacher. I have never quite been sure what I wanted to be when I grow up. I know what I don't want to do, but choosing what to do has always been hard for me. If the Myers-Briggs is to be believed, I should have chosen another profession. Either the ministry or psychotherapy. You have no idea how hard that makes me laugh. No idea. The irony, oh the irony. Tomorrow I will receive my second nursing school pin some 25 years later. I lost the first one in a bag of laundry at Forsyth Hospital my second year out of nursing school. I have never replaced it. But I think I went to nursing school for the cap. I loved the caps. I also always wanted a blue cape. Always. I never got a nurse's bag till about 7 years ago and I loved it. It was one of the happiest days of my life. My very own nurse's bag. And I hope and pray my youthful nursing didn't kill anyone. I pray I always remembered this..."First do no harm."
Nursing school is tough. I will go on record here as saying it was one of the tougher majors. It is pretty hard core. The vocabulary alone is daunting. Most first year student nurses learn 15,000 new words their first year alone. I say most, because some never make it out of that first semester. Not to mention it is just plain gross. Most will tell tales of hypochondria. For instance, just knowing you had a brain tumor when you were studying neuro and convinced you had leukemia when studying hematology. The stress is pretty intense. And you cry just about everyday in nursing school.
When I began nursing school 27 years ago, nurses still wore caps. And you earned your cap. You earned your stripes on your cap too. Your cap was peculiar to your nursing school. My first year at Forsyth Hospital, all RNs still wore caps except in the critical care areas. We wore white dresses too. I loved my white uniforms, especially the dresses. I don't even know if you can buy a white dress uniform anymore. Scrubs are the uniform of the day and the newest trend is for hospitals to have their RNs all wear the same color. To be honest, we looked more professional back then. We really did. Now I look like I just got out of bed and am running around in blue PJ's. And since I start work at 530 am, I really did just roll out of bed and drive to the hospital. I have worked every shift. Nights, evenings, days.
One particular job I had, my beeper served as an umbilical cord to the physicians I worked for. When I was pregnant, I was very sick with some upper respiratory virus. According to the physician I worked for (who was a cardiologist, I might add), my OB must have graduated at the bottom of his class. George did not like the way he was treating me. So, George being George, called my PCP, told him I needed to be on antibiotics, needed 2 liters of IVFs, and an inhaler or I was not going to make it through delivery. His real concern was not my L&D at all, he was concerned I would not be able to work up to being wheeled in the delivery room and he would be without a nurse for longer than the anticipated 12 weeks. Not kidding. David the other MD I worked for just knew my dates were wrong. I was still working at 42 weeks. My dates were not wrong. I can assure you. He thought I had at least 4 more weeks to go, ergo 4 more weeks to work. I had to be induce and long story short, it was not pretty. David was convinced the whole reason I was hypotensive and febrile during delivery was my epidural. He was completely against them. His real concern was I might become paralyzed and not come back to work after the baby was born. He called me during delivery to see if I had said no. Trust me I didn't say no. Now, I will never, ever take a stadol trip again, but fentanyl is not bad at all. My son's name is Davis- the birth announcement in the department read DAVID VANCE O'BRIEN. No kidding. Everyone thought Davis was named after David. I guess I should mention here that my maiden name is DAVIS and I was unmarried the first five years I worked for him. I still tease David that he purposely made the typo. Oh, when my OB threatened to put me on bed rest if my BP didn't come down, David called him and assured him I would get all the rest I needed in clinic, and he would personally check my BP and my ketones everyday. Not kidding. I tell you all of this, just to say, doctors need nurses. Couldn't function without us.
I have done a variety of things in nursing. CCU, CVSU, Surgical ICU (it was also the transplant unit), EP lab, cardiology outpatient clinic, neurosurgery, research, oncology and hospice. I was an infertility nurse for about 6 months, but won't admit this on my resume or in public. I got about 10 people pregnant and destroyed a $50,000 centrifuge. The best and most holy work I have ever done is hospice. Would do it again in a heartbeat if the hours were more sane. I can honestly say I have seen it all. I have helped crack chests, massaged a dying heart, put needles in peoples' chests, thighs, buts, arms, legs, heads and feet, pulled chest tubes, held retractors, shocked more people than I can remember, done more CPR than I can remember, started 1000 IVs, pushed pills,given experimental drugs never used in humans before, sutured, cut sutures, inserted 100s of foleys, NGs, dobhoffs, changed a million dressings, cleaned up shit, had vomit in my shoes, blood on my hands and in my shoes, been slapped, bit, hit, screamed at, cussed at, hugged, loved, and needed. I have eaten food I never dreamed I would have eaten, (chitlins are coming to mind and some fried something from Egypt-it tasted like chicken), stood in roach invested homes, did a dressing change with a Ocelot watching me and stepped over an aquarium with a python just so I could pronounce the patient dead. Been accused of murder too. I have seen birth and seen death up close and personal hundreds of times. Oh the stories I could tell. And I have my favorites. The best thing about nursing is you are never, ever bored and every day you show up to work - you impact a life.
About my fifth year in hospice, I was visiting a patient for the first time. We didn't get started off on the right foot. As usual, I was not welcomed with open arms. Death is a pretty hard sell. (But I am guessing since I was relatively successful at selling death and dying-I could preach-that's a sales pitch too). Anywho, the patient called me a chicken shit and threw me out of the room. This became somewhat of a little risk management incident. Just a tiny one. It might have had something to do with me telling the patient that she could call me whatever name she liked, she could spit, scream all sorts of profanities. But one thing I was not was a chicken shit. That I can never be accused of. Never. I may be many things and most of them true, but a chicken shit- never.
Florence Nightingale called nursing the finest art and it is. So tomorrow I receive my second nursing school pin. I didn't order the 14kt gold one because of the $325 price tag and in case I lose it. I sprung for sterling silver. It was only $52. I am not sure what to expect at this pinning. Pinning used to be held in churches and were more religious type ceremonies. My son, husband, mom, dad and mother in law will be in attendance. I hope they won't be too bored. I will have much to think about-like how did I get here. I hope to finish my masters in the next 2 years (18 months if I push it) and believe or not I want my doctorate. Am seriously considering a dual track program on Vanderbilt that combines a MSN and MDiv. It is the only program in the country like it. I am a perpetual student. You can never be too over educated or too over dressed. My dissertation would probably be on the spirituality of nursing. But how did I get here? One of of the country's most talented singers and educator in her own right as well as a political activist, Bernice Reagon Johnson says, "If moving through your life, you find yourself lost, go back to the last place where you knew who you were, what you were doing and start from there."
So...who was I and how did I get here...
Through the prayers and encouragement of a friend with great shoes, great taste in clothes and who sent me flowers today and I cried and cried and cried...(and yes I will send you flowers for your GPA)...(BTW, she can flat cook too)...I am the one who loves shoes too much and clearly does not push her plate away too often
Through the endless cheering of a friend (who is a nurse), who has stared death down and said not this time, buddy, not this time...and who lives life like a bucket list...and that is the only way...and I am the one who loves wind chimes, candles and really good lotion...I am the one who will go the extra mile for anyone who needs a nurse...for whatever reason and she will too...
Through a friend who knows I love, love, love the BCP and love, love, love to read and secretly want to be Anglican but won't take the membership class and she gave me a book of the most incredible prayers and quotes today and I cried and cried and cried again....I am the one who knows that sometimes you need prayers wiser than your own and sometimes the only way to pray is to read the book of Psalms over and over and over again...it was good enough for Jesus, I should probably give it some credit...
Through carrot cake that will make Paula Dean slap her mama...I am the one who never met a desert I didn't like...
Through the patience of one very special boy who loves baseball and his mama and gives the best hugs and will do homework with me and tutored me through math...I am the one who knows that motherhood can spin you in circles and grace gets you through...
Through the love of one man who probably on any given day really doesn't understand me but loves me in spite of...anyway...I am his first wife...
Through the teaching of incredible nurses like Karla (she taught me everything I know about good, solid bedside nursing and how to really assess a patient head to toe quickly)
like Diane who taught me integrity is the only thing that matters....you will be remembered by your word...
like Elaine who reminded me day after day after day...one thing at a time...only one thing at a time...
like Robyn...the best damn hospice nurse standing...of that I am convinced...of that I am convinced...and there is no greater gift than a good death and everyone should get at least that...
like Yvette...there is no such thing as too much or too far when a patient really needs something...lunch can always wait...
like Freda...never let "you" get in the way of taking care of "them" EVER.
like Donna...perfection is over rated...very, overrated and an impossible goal to achieve...I am the nurse who values integrity and compassion above everything else...the patient always comes first and sometimes good enough is good enough...
Was it worth it? Every single minute. I would not change a thing.
All is grace and never stop pursuing your dreams...never...just remember you will be the same age next year with or without the dream...life is short...just do it..life is a big run on sentence with tons of commas...make it worth reading...
Kathleen
Nursing school is tough. I will go on record here as saying it was one of the tougher majors. It is pretty hard core. The vocabulary alone is daunting. Most first year student nurses learn 15,000 new words their first year alone. I say most, because some never make it out of that first semester. Not to mention it is just plain gross. Most will tell tales of hypochondria. For instance, just knowing you had a brain tumor when you were studying neuro and convinced you had leukemia when studying hematology. The stress is pretty intense. And you cry just about everyday in nursing school.
When I began nursing school 27 years ago, nurses still wore caps. And you earned your cap. You earned your stripes on your cap too. Your cap was peculiar to your nursing school. My first year at Forsyth Hospital, all RNs still wore caps except in the critical care areas. We wore white dresses too. I loved my white uniforms, especially the dresses. I don't even know if you can buy a white dress uniform anymore. Scrubs are the uniform of the day and the newest trend is for hospitals to have their RNs all wear the same color. To be honest, we looked more professional back then. We really did. Now I look like I just got out of bed and am running around in blue PJ's. And since I start work at 530 am, I really did just roll out of bed and drive to the hospital. I have worked every shift. Nights, evenings, days.
One particular job I had, my beeper served as an umbilical cord to the physicians I worked for. When I was pregnant, I was very sick with some upper respiratory virus. According to the physician I worked for (who was a cardiologist, I might add), my OB must have graduated at the bottom of his class. George did not like the way he was treating me. So, George being George, called my PCP, told him I needed to be on antibiotics, needed 2 liters of IVFs, and an inhaler or I was not going to make it through delivery. His real concern was not my L&D at all, he was concerned I would not be able to work up to being wheeled in the delivery room and he would be without a nurse for longer than the anticipated 12 weeks. Not kidding. David the other MD I worked for just knew my dates were wrong. I was still working at 42 weeks. My dates were not wrong. I can assure you. He thought I had at least 4 more weeks to go, ergo 4 more weeks to work. I had to be induce and long story short, it was not pretty. David was convinced the whole reason I was hypotensive and febrile during delivery was my epidural. He was completely against them. His real concern was I might become paralyzed and not come back to work after the baby was born. He called me during delivery to see if I had said no. Trust me I didn't say no. Now, I will never, ever take a stadol trip again, but fentanyl is not bad at all. My son's name is Davis- the birth announcement in the department read DAVID VANCE O'BRIEN. No kidding. Everyone thought Davis was named after David. I guess I should mention here that my maiden name is DAVIS and I was unmarried the first five years I worked for him. I still tease David that he purposely made the typo. Oh, when my OB threatened to put me on bed rest if my BP didn't come down, David called him and assured him I would get all the rest I needed in clinic, and he would personally check my BP and my ketones everyday. Not kidding. I tell you all of this, just to say, doctors need nurses. Couldn't function without us.
I have done a variety of things in nursing. CCU, CVSU, Surgical ICU (it was also the transplant unit), EP lab, cardiology outpatient clinic, neurosurgery, research, oncology and hospice. I was an infertility nurse for about 6 months, but won't admit this on my resume or in public. I got about 10 people pregnant and destroyed a $50,000 centrifuge. The best and most holy work I have ever done is hospice. Would do it again in a heartbeat if the hours were more sane. I can honestly say I have seen it all. I have helped crack chests, massaged a dying heart, put needles in peoples' chests, thighs, buts, arms, legs, heads and feet, pulled chest tubes, held retractors, shocked more people than I can remember, done more CPR than I can remember, started 1000 IVs, pushed pills,given experimental drugs never used in humans before, sutured, cut sutures, inserted 100s of foleys, NGs, dobhoffs, changed a million dressings, cleaned up shit, had vomit in my shoes, blood on my hands and in my shoes, been slapped, bit, hit, screamed at, cussed at, hugged, loved, and needed. I have eaten food I never dreamed I would have eaten, (chitlins are coming to mind and some fried something from Egypt-it tasted like chicken), stood in roach invested homes, did a dressing change with a Ocelot watching me and stepped over an aquarium with a python just so I could pronounce the patient dead. Been accused of murder too. I have seen birth and seen death up close and personal hundreds of times. Oh the stories I could tell. And I have my favorites. The best thing about nursing is you are never, ever bored and every day you show up to work - you impact a life.
About my fifth year in hospice, I was visiting a patient for the first time. We didn't get started off on the right foot. As usual, I was not welcomed with open arms. Death is a pretty hard sell. (But I am guessing since I was relatively successful at selling death and dying-I could preach-that's a sales pitch too). Anywho, the patient called me a chicken shit and threw me out of the room. This became somewhat of a little risk management incident. Just a tiny one. It might have had something to do with me telling the patient that she could call me whatever name she liked, she could spit, scream all sorts of profanities. But one thing I was not was a chicken shit. That I can never be accused of. Never. I may be many things and most of them true, but a chicken shit- never.
Florence Nightingale called nursing the finest art and it is. So tomorrow I receive my second nursing school pin. I didn't order the 14kt gold one because of the $325 price tag and in case I lose it. I sprung for sterling silver. It was only $52. I am not sure what to expect at this pinning. Pinning used to be held in churches and were more religious type ceremonies. My son, husband, mom, dad and mother in law will be in attendance. I hope they won't be too bored. I will have much to think about-like how did I get here. I hope to finish my masters in the next 2 years (18 months if I push it) and believe or not I want my doctorate. Am seriously considering a dual track program on Vanderbilt that combines a MSN and MDiv. It is the only program in the country like it. I am a perpetual student. You can never be too over educated or too over dressed. My dissertation would probably be on the spirituality of nursing. But how did I get here? One of of the country's most talented singers and educator in her own right as well as a political activist, Bernice Reagon Johnson says, "If moving through your life, you find yourself lost, go back to the last place where you knew who you were, what you were doing and start from there."
So...who was I and how did I get here...
Through the prayers and encouragement of a friend with great shoes, great taste in clothes and who sent me flowers today and I cried and cried and cried...(and yes I will send you flowers for your GPA)...(BTW, she can flat cook too)...I am the one who loves shoes too much and clearly does not push her plate away too often
Through the endless cheering of a friend (who is a nurse), who has stared death down and said not this time, buddy, not this time...and who lives life like a bucket list...and that is the only way...and I am the one who loves wind chimes, candles and really good lotion...I am the one who will go the extra mile for anyone who needs a nurse...for whatever reason and she will too...
Through a friend who knows I love, love, love the BCP and love, love, love to read and secretly want to be Anglican but won't take the membership class and she gave me a book of the most incredible prayers and quotes today and I cried and cried and cried again....I am the one who knows that sometimes you need prayers wiser than your own and sometimes the only way to pray is to read the book of Psalms over and over and over again...it was good enough for Jesus, I should probably give it some credit...
Through carrot cake that will make Paula Dean slap her mama...I am the one who never met a desert I didn't like...
Through the patience of one very special boy who loves baseball and his mama and gives the best hugs and will do homework with me and tutored me through math...I am the one who knows that motherhood can spin you in circles and grace gets you through...
Through the love of one man who probably on any given day really doesn't understand me but loves me in spite of...anyway...I am his first wife...
Through the teaching of incredible nurses like Karla (she taught me everything I know about good, solid bedside nursing and how to really assess a patient head to toe quickly)
like Diane who taught me integrity is the only thing that matters....you will be remembered by your word...
like Elaine who reminded me day after day after day...one thing at a time...only one thing at a time...
like Robyn...the best damn hospice nurse standing...of that I am convinced...of that I am convinced...and there is no greater gift than a good death and everyone should get at least that...
like Yvette...there is no such thing as too much or too far when a patient really needs something...lunch can always wait...
like Freda...never let "you" get in the way of taking care of "them" EVER.
like Donna...perfection is over rated...very, overrated and an impossible goal to achieve...I am the nurse who values integrity and compassion above everything else...the patient always comes first and sometimes good enough is good enough...
Was it worth it? Every single minute. I would not change a thing.
All is grace and never stop pursuing your dreams...never...just remember you will be the same age next year with or without the dream...life is short...just do it..life is a big run on sentence with tons of commas...make it worth reading...
Kathleen
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
TheTheology of Baseball Part 2
"It is the bottom of the third, boys and if we don't scratch 4 out here and now, it is going to be a long night at the ballfield." Davis
That's what he told them in the dugout that night. It was the middle school county championship game. The first time in school history - a championship. Most non athlete persons think athlete persons take games way too seriously. Non athlete persons will always speak of competitiveness in a negative ways. And there is some truth in that. Many will use Jesus as an example of how "winning isn't everything" and it isn't. But it feels good. And Jesus did say the first will be last and the last will be first, but he was really talking about the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, the forgotten. Not athletes.
The writer of the Hebrew Epistle told his readers to run the race with endurance and patience. Paul told Timothy that he had fought the good fight, he had finished the race and now victory awaits. Baseball teaches alot about patience and waiting. Batters are often told to "sit back and wait on it." If a batter swings a second too early, he fouls it off. Just a nan o second. But with pitches coming across the plate from 60 feet at 85 to 90 miles a hour, waiting just does not seem prudent. But it is. It is the same way with God, I think. The psalmist tells us to "wait patiently on the Lord." Hard to do when life is coming at you fast and hard. Hard to do when you just want to see results. But waiting is prudent, very prudent.
Baseball also has the longest season of any sport. From April to October. 162 games. 21 post season games if you win the series. A long time. And that takes endurance. Baseball are also some of the longest games to watch. 9 innings usually, but they have been known to go 12. As the Hebrew writer says, endure. Endure. If you want victory in the spiritual life, endure. Hang in there, victory is coming.
Baseball has some of the funniest colloquialisms of all sports and they almost sound as if they come from Proverbs. One of my favorites is "you gotta wear that." It means if a pitch might hit you, you need to let it. It is an automatic base. Being hit by a 95 mile hour fast ball hurts like hell. It leaves a hematoma or it might break your face. But you gotta wear it to get on base. And the key to winning baseball games is not home runs, it is on pace percentage. Just ask Billy Bean and the Oakland As. Another favorite of mine, "needs you on base anyway you can." It means a walk is a as good as a hit. No base runners, no runs. That simple. Sometimes we make the spiritual life too complicated. God does not care so much how you pray, just pray. Just pray anyway you can. And sometimes the only prayers you can utter is "Thank you" and "Help".
I also love the phrase, "just eat it." When an error happens, sometimes the players try to over compensate and throw the ball toward the base anyway and this usually leads to more errors and more bases. It kind of snowballs. So, the best thing to do when you miss a play, pick the ball up and end the play. Just eat it. The spiritual life requires alot of "just eat it." So many times we want to say a harsh word, retaliate when someone is unkind, avenge the wrong. Usually it is just our feelings and pride involved and the best course of action is to "just eat it." Jesus was pretty clear about this when he told his listeners in the Sermon on the Mount, if your brother has offended you, ask him about it. Chances are he won't own up to it and Jesus says let it go. Let it go.
I also like the phrase, "scratch one out." In baseball, when you are down runs, instead of thinking about a grand slam home run, just get a hit and get on base and soon or later you will round third and score. One run at a time. Life is best lived this way. Just do one thing at a time. Don't focus on the enormous crisis at hand, just do the next thing required and eventually you will find yourself at home. One moment at a time. So much of life is lived in emergency mode and life is not a crisis. Slow down. See the moment.
Another favorite phrase of mine is "turn two boys." That means a double play. And should not kindness be acted out in that way. Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, if your brother needs a shirt, give him a coat too. Turn two. Turn two.
"See it and hit it." Love that phrase. You can not hit a ball you can not see. Most batters will tell you that they time their swing to the moment when they actually see the seams on the baseball. Pretty amazing. I have watched alot of pitches. Average baseball game, over 200 pitches are thrown. I have yet to see the seams. So I would suck at batting. Baseballs like life come at you pretty fast. We fail to see the wonder of the little things and fail to build our life on that wonder. The small moments. By appreciating the wonder of the moment, you slow time and then you can really begin to live and stop just existing.
Fans frequently tell the batter and the pitcher to battle. Win the battle. Come back and finish it. We are engaged in battle whether we believe it or not. We are fighting principalities, evil and rulers not of this world. We have to win the battle. Not the war, the war has already been won. But the battle still needs fighting. Good can still overcome evil. Love still wins every time. Sometimes, we give up too quickly. Victory is just within our reach and we don't dig deep and finish it. We give up. Never give up on a 0-2 count as a batter and never give up on 3-0 count as pitcher. Come back. Nothing is ever accomplished by giving in to pessimism. Nothing.
At the of the third inning, Davis' team had done just what he asked...4 runs. New game. That's what baseball players call it when you tie the score. New ballgame. New life. A Jesus is good about that...offering new life when all seems hopeless.
Someone once said, "Baseball is alot like church, many attend but few understand."
All is grace,
Kathleen
baseball championships
batting lessons
planting container gardens
nasturtiums beginning to come up
sunflowers beginning to show
cosmos beginning to show
yellow butterflies
robins living in my shed a whole family
lunch with a dear dear friend and sharing molten lava cake which i wore home
afternoon naps when it is raining
cleaning out closets
That's what he told them in the dugout that night. It was the middle school county championship game. The first time in school history - a championship. Most non athlete persons think athlete persons take games way too seriously. Non athlete persons will always speak of competitiveness in a negative ways. And there is some truth in that. Many will use Jesus as an example of how "winning isn't everything" and it isn't. But it feels good. And Jesus did say the first will be last and the last will be first, but he was really talking about the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, the forgotten. Not athletes.
The writer of the Hebrew Epistle told his readers to run the race with endurance and patience. Paul told Timothy that he had fought the good fight, he had finished the race and now victory awaits. Baseball teaches alot about patience and waiting. Batters are often told to "sit back and wait on it." If a batter swings a second too early, he fouls it off. Just a nan o second. But with pitches coming across the plate from 60 feet at 85 to 90 miles a hour, waiting just does not seem prudent. But it is. It is the same way with God, I think. The psalmist tells us to "wait patiently on the Lord." Hard to do when life is coming at you fast and hard. Hard to do when you just want to see results. But waiting is prudent, very prudent.
Baseball also has the longest season of any sport. From April to October. 162 games. 21 post season games if you win the series. A long time. And that takes endurance. Baseball are also some of the longest games to watch. 9 innings usually, but they have been known to go 12. As the Hebrew writer says, endure. Endure. If you want victory in the spiritual life, endure. Hang in there, victory is coming.
Baseball has some of the funniest colloquialisms of all sports and they almost sound as if they come from Proverbs. One of my favorites is "you gotta wear that." It means if a pitch might hit you, you need to let it. It is an automatic base. Being hit by a 95 mile hour fast ball hurts like hell. It leaves a hematoma or it might break your face. But you gotta wear it to get on base. And the key to winning baseball games is not home runs, it is on pace percentage. Just ask Billy Bean and the Oakland As. Another favorite of mine, "needs you on base anyway you can." It means a walk is a as good as a hit. No base runners, no runs. That simple. Sometimes we make the spiritual life too complicated. God does not care so much how you pray, just pray. Just pray anyway you can. And sometimes the only prayers you can utter is "Thank you" and "Help".
I also love the phrase, "just eat it." When an error happens, sometimes the players try to over compensate and throw the ball toward the base anyway and this usually leads to more errors and more bases. It kind of snowballs. So, the best thing to do when you miss a play, pick the ball up and end the play. Just eat it. The spiritual life requires alot of "just eat it." So many times we want to say a harsh word, retaliate when someone is unkind, avenge the wrong. Usually it is just our feelings and pride involved and the best course of action is to "just eat it." Jesus was pretty clear about this when he told his listeners in the Sermon on the Mount, if your brother has offended you, ask him about it. Chances are he won't own up to it and Jesus says let it go. Let it go.
I also like the phrase, "scratch one out." In baseball, when you are down runs, instead of thinking about a grand slam home run, just get a hit and get on base and soon or later you will round third and score. One run at a time. Life is best lived this way. Just do one thing at a time. Don't focus on the enormous crisis at hand, just do the next thing required and eventually you will find yourself at home. One moment at a time. So much of life is lived in emergency mode and life is not a crisis. Slow down. See the moment.
Another favorite phrase of mine is "turn two boys." That means a double play. And should not kindness be acted out in that way. Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, if your brother needs a shirt, give him a coat too. Turn two. Turn two.
"See it and hit it." Love that phrase. You can not hit a ball you can not see. Most batters will tell you that they time their swing to the moment when they actually see the seams on the baseball. Pretty amazing. I have watched alot of pitches. Average baseball game, over 200 pitches are thrown. I have yet to see the seams. So I would suck at batting. Baseballs like life come at you pretty fast. We fail to see the wonder of the little things and fail to build our life on that wonder. The small moments. By appreciating the wonder of the moment, you slow time and then you can really begin to live and stop just existing.
Fans frequently tell the batter and the pitcher to battle. Win the battle. Come back and finish it. We are engaged in battle whether we believe it or not. We are fighting principalities, evil and rulers not of this world. We have to win the battle. Not the war, the war has already been won. But the battle still needs fighting. Good can still overcome evil. Love still wins every time. Sometimes, we give up too quickly. Victory is just within our reach and we don't dig deep and finish it. We give up. Never give up on a 0-2 count as a batter and never give up on 3-0 count as pitcher. Come back. Nothing is ever accomplished by giving in to pessimism. Nothing.
At the of the third inning, Davis' team had done just what he asked...4 runs. New game. That's what baseball players call it when you tie the score. New ballgame. New life. A Jesus is good about that...offering new life when all seems hopeless.
Someone once said, "Baseball is alot like church, many attend but few understand."
All is grace,
Kathleen
baseball championships
batting lessons
planting container gardens
nasturtiums beginning to come up
sunflowers beginning to show
cosmos beginning to show
yellow butterflies
robins living in my shed a whole family
lunch with a dear dear friend and sharing molten lava cake which i wore home
afternoon naps when it is raining
cleaning out closets
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The devil may Prada, but so will I for the right price
My front yard was molested by the state of NC yesterday. I lost two 150 year old maples, (I counted the rings), a 40 foot cedar, a 35 foot holly tree. In a matter of three hours, they were mulch. We bought the house for the trees. The mortgage is paid off. We would move if it made financial sense. It does not. Davis wanted us to name the trees in order to remember them. We call them Maple and Myrtle. So very clever. An unexpected phone call from a friend during the tree removal, distracted me but she probably really was not expecting me to cry. She did empower me to take on the DOT and save my sidewalk. I am sure she expected a much lighter conversation, but she did make me feel better. And it was a grace. If I thought drinking would have helped, I would have had to begin drinking at 8 am. The only thing that would have accomplished would have been a hangover coupled with profound sadness. Another incredible friend dropped a tree grieving gift by (a wind chime- if only I had a tree to hang it in) and a graduation gift. The bag simply read: MERCY. And this morning the Church remember Dame Julian of Norwich and the gospel reading is the Lord's Prayer. I am just guessing, but I think Sir Thomas Cramner planned it that way. And once again the discipline of reading the Daily Office astounds me with its grace. Sometimes I think the readings were chosen just for me. And I suppose God means for it to feel that way.
Today I found comfort in my new haircut, my pedicure and my new pair of Pradas. My newly painted cajun shrimp toes look really great in those shoes. The devil may wear Prada, but so will I for the right price. I found an incredible pair of Prada's for about $25. I don't know what insane person bought and then hated those shoes, but I am glad they did. They are not everyday shoes but I just might have to wear them tomorrow when I visit my friend. I am not sure they warrant a $500 price tag, but they are really great shoes. Epic shoes as Davis would say.
During the middle ages, the Church saw some incredible women. Really incredible women. St. Teresa of Avila, Hildegard and Dame Julian of Norwich. Julian was a young woman of 30 stricken by terrible illness and given last rites to prepare her for heaven. Six days she suffered in agony; then on the seventh day she received 15 visions of Christ’s Passion – and the illness left her. She went straight to her parish church, St. Julian’s,(hence her name, her real name is never recorded), and never left it; they had to build an extra room for her. She wrote down what she’d seen, then spent 15 years trying to sort it out. At last she did; the Lord’s meaning in everything is love. She wrote again, the first book by a woman ever published in the English language, “Revelations of Divine Love,” a masterpiece of Christian spirituality better read today than ever before.
And so today of all days, I was reminded of Julian's wisdom. She is most often quoted saying "all will be well, and all matter of things will be well." Even tree removal. Even death. Even abandonment. Even sickness. "God makes it, God loves it, God keeps it." She was referring to the universe. God keeps it. He keeps everything, everyone He loves. Even dead trees. Even our loved ones who die. Even the parts of ourselves that we lose on the journey of life.
And the most profound thing she said was this:
"This blessed friend is Jesus; it is his will and plan that we hang on to him, and hold tight always, in whatever circumstances; for whether we are filthy or clean is all the same to his love."
It is the plan and will of Jesus that we cling to Him...Cling...those are tough words to consider when you have been wronged, hurt, oppressed, dejected, abandoned, rejected. Tough words to consider when your civil rights are violated. Tough words to consider when the law can not protect you from violence. And I wonder how many who claim to love Jesus thought of that today of all days? How many made decisions today based on what they think God wants? Hate in any form is just that hate. And it is impossible to hate the sin and not hate the sinner. Impossible.
And I was reminded again by a rabbi today, "whenever I consider you less than made in the image of God. Holiness ceases to exist." And I thought about how whenever we view our sisters and brothers as less than the image of God for whatever reason: their lifestyle choices, their burdens, their own woundedness, their own personal demons, their otherness, their differentness, etc. Whenever we wish less for them than ourselves, holiness (translated in the Hebrew as wholeness), can not exist.
And we were to read how Jesus taught us to pray today of all days. Have you ever wondered why it is the prayer most often repeated? Some believe it takes a lifetime to really pray this prayer and it is the only prayer you ever need pray and I believe there is truth in that...
Your will be done (not our own selfish agendas) on earth as it is already being done in heaven...
Give today what we need..just for today...we need not worry about tomorrow needs...all will be well...
Forgive our sins as we forgive others...
Forgive means to release your enemy of the responsibility of making it right...most likely if you can't forgive it...they couldn't make it right...leave it to God..."and isn't it easier to say we don't have any enemies so we don't have to figure out how to love them?" Are we so very, very sure we know who our enemies are? Have we deluded ourselves into thinking our enemies all carry arrows? Have we ever consider the enemy is whoever is most not like us?
Don't let evil overcome us...
all is really is grace if you change lenses...
prada shoes
OPI Cajun shrimp nail polish
shampoo that smells like honey
dead trees
stumps left in the ground
window estimates
Julian of Norwich
wisdom birthed from pain and there is not another way
wind chimes that look like silverware
white McCoy pottery pitchers
baseball championships
chalkboard paint
iced tea
heavy hand cream
forgiveness
commas
words
home runs (four of them in one day and you may never see that again...it has only happened fifteen times in history)
seedless grapes
NC strawberries
The Lord's Prayer
Today I found comfort in my new haircut, my pedicure and my new pair of Pradas. My newly painted cajun shrimp toes look really great in those shoes. The devil may wear Prada, but so will I for the right price. I found an incredible pair of Prada's for about $25. I don't know what insane person bought and then hated those shoes, but I am glad they did. They are not everyday shoes but I just might have to wear them tomorrow when I visit my friend. I am not sure they warrant a $500 price tag, but they are really great shoes. Epic shoes as Davis would say.
During the middle ages, the Church saw some incredible women. Really incredible women. St. Teresa of Avila, Hildegard and Dame Julian of Norwich. Julian was a young woman of 30 stricken by terrible illness and given last rites to prepare her for heaven. Six days she suffered in agony; then on the seventh day she received 15 visions of Christ’s Passion – and the illness left her. She went straight to her parish church, St. Julian’s,(hence her name, her real name is never recorded), and never left it; they had to build an extra room for her. She wrote down what she’d seen, then spent 15 years trying to sort it out. At last she did; the Lord’s meaning in everything is love. She wrote again, the first book by a woman ever published in the English language, “Revelations of Divine Love,” a masterpiece of Christian spirituality better read today than ever before.
And so today of all days, I was reminded of Julian's wisdom. She is most often quoted saying "all will be well, and all matter of things will be well." Even tree removal. Even death. Even abandonment. Even sickness. "God makes it, God loves it, God keeps it." She was referring to the universe. God keeps it. He keeps everything, everyone He loves. Even dead trees. Even our loved ones who die. Even the parts of ourselves that we lose on the journey of life.
And the most profound thing she said was this:
"This blessed friend is Jesus; it is his will and plan that we hang on to him, and hold tight always, in whatever circumstances; for whether we are filthy or clean is all the same to his love."
It is the plan and will of Jesus that we cling to Him...Cling...those are tough words to consider when you have been wronged, hurt, oppressed, dejected, abandoned, rejected. Tough words to consider when your civil rights are violated. Tough words to consider when the law can not protect you from violence. And I wonder how many who claim to love Jesus thought of that today of all days? How many made decisions today based on what they think God wants? Hate in any form is just that hate. And it is impossible to hate the sin and not hate the sinner. Impossible.
And I was reminded again by a rabbi today, "whenever I consider you less than made in the image of God. Holiness ceases to exist." And I thought about how whenever we view our sisters and brothers as less than the image of God for whatever reason: their lifestyle choices, their burdens, their own woundedness, their own personal demons, their otherness, their differentness, etc. Whenever we wish less for them than ourselves, holiness (translated in the Hebrew as wholeness), can not exist.
And we were to read how Jesus taught us to pray today of all days. Have you ever wondered why it is the prayer most often repeated? Some believe it takes a lifetime to really pray this prayer and it is the only prayer you ever need pray and I believe there is truth in that...
Your will be done (not our own selfish agendas) on earth as it is already being done in heaven...
Give today what we need..just for today...we need not worry about tomorrow needs...all will be well...
Forgive our sins as we forgive others...
Forgive means to release your enemy of the responsibility of making it right...most likely if you can't forgive it...they couldn't make it right...leave it to God..."and isn't it easier to say we don't have any enemies so we don't have to figure out how to love them?" Are we so very, very sure we know who our enemies are? Have we deluded ourselves into thinking our enemies all carry arrows? Have we ever consider the enemy is whoever is most not like us?
Don't let evil overcome us...
all is really is grace if you change lenses...
prada shoes
OPI Cajun shrimp nail polish
shampoo that smells like honey
dead trees
stumps left in the ground
window estimates
Julian of Norwich
wisdom birthed from pain and there is not another way
wind chimes that look like silverware
white McCoy pottery pitchers
baseball championships
chalkboard paint
iced tea
heavy hand cream
forgiveness
commas
words
home runs (four of them in one day and you may never see that again...it has only happened fifteen times in history)
seedless grapes
NC strawberries
The Lord's Prayer
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Other Side of the Boat
I woke up today at 6 am and we were still late to church. Not my fault today, Vance had to have candy for church (yes, Vance and how old is he?), Davis had to go to the bathroom as soon as we arrived, so we sat down after the announcements. While I was waiting impatiently in the narthex for Davis, the very, kind usher said we could go in anytime we like as long as we were not praying (at least I thought that was what he said). I must have looked lost or like I wasn't praying, which I was not. And I was lost and am on most given days, hence the need for ushers. It is very, very easy to become lost at church. Very easy. It was all good though, because we sat down right in front of a dear, dear friend who I have not seen except electronically in quite some time. That alone would have made church worth it this morning, but God being good gives more. There are always baskets of bread left over.
I actually had almost finished my blog for this morning before I left for church and I will publish it one day, but church happened and Spirit said write this. In case you are overcome with curiosity, it was on the Old Testament reading this morning from the Daily Office. Abraham and Isaac. Love that story. High drama, suspense, love and near murder all in one story. I also have the blog written on part 2 of baseball theology, but I am saving that one. For what, I have no idea. Absolutely none. Maybe I am more superstitious than I think and am saving it in hopes that will give us an edge in tomorrow night's county championship game.
I was feeling quite pleased with myself when I arrived at church. Not only had I baked fresh cinnamon bread this am for breakfast, I also actually cooked breakfast. Fresh baked bread, eggs, bacon and strawberries. Nothing taste finer than a NC strawberry in May. Nothing. I had dinner ready to go in the oven tonight. I had put a coat of paint on my back door. I had read the lectionary readings, checked my email and written my blog. I had also finished a load of laundry and remembered to sign my anniversary card for Vance. It is our 17th anniversary today and I did consider writing on that, given my recent overnight stay at my mamma's, but I am saving that one too. I love checking off my to do list, so I sat down at 11am, with my to do list almost complete. I love that feeling. I don't why either. And of course the prayer this morning was for no less than calm minds. Not kidding. No one has ever prayed for me to have a calm mind before. And probably they and I should.
Davis always asks me on the way to church, "What is the sermon going to be about today?" He is always amazed that I can "predict" the scripture and outline a sermon. He still has not quite grasped the concept that I guess well because of the lectionary. Given that he is going to high school this fall, I think I will enjoy being "all knowing" mom as long as I can. I probably only have about three months left of that. So, I was guessing we are either talking about loving each other or Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch.
I have no idea what makes a preacher preach what he or she preaches. I have no idea why certain hymns are sung or not. I can follow the theme but really have never come up with the timeliness of hymns and sermons. I don't think everyone else needs to hear what I hear, but clearly the mystery of preaching works. And it has always never ceased to amaze me. Never. In liturgical churches, the lectionary is usually followed, but for whatever reason, it was not today. I suspect it has something to do with what God thinks I need to hear. Or at least I hope. I have heard those knowings called God tickles or whispering. Usually God has to yell to get my attention. And yell loud. Tickling just doesn't get it for me. Imagine my surprise when the sermon is from John's gospel narrative when Jesus appears to the disciples on the beach. He gives them fishing tips, cooks breakfast, eats with them and disappears. And for some reason that I have never clearly understood and have always wrestled with, Peter was apparently fishing naked. WHY???? And the sermon was so much better than my blog on the same passage a week ago.
And the gospel today was quite simply this: The miracle of the resurrection is in the here and now. There is no need to wait till we die. To experience kingdom living, abundant life-realize this: Go to the other side of the boat. It is when we change perspective that we enter the resurrection moment.
And God being God, knew I needed to hear that, because it was only this week that I had read from one of my favorite writers on hope and why we have it and how we can experience life now. "When you have a plan in place for the worst — you never go to the the place of worry. And the plan for when all hell breaks lose is that Christ’s already broken the power of hell and to live is Christ and to die is gain, so the plan is always joy." Ann Voskamp
As Christians we have the best worst case scenario plan. I can promise you that in this life you will walk through hell. At some point and time you will experience, and quite possibly for a long time, fear, sickness, anxiety, abandonment, grief, heartache, suffering, pain. But we have a disaster plan. It is the other side of the boat.
All is grace and counting it always....
kathleen
Hugs from friends I haven't seen in years
Choirs that sing Tallis
The sound of shoes on stone church floors
Strawberries from NC in May
The smell of fresh baked bread on Sunday morning
Anniversaries
Iris that never fail to bloom exactly year after year the first week of May
Hymns that I don't know but the music makes me think of resting
Prayers that ask for calm minds
Baseball championship games
Herb crusted pork roast that melts in your mouth
Spray paint
I actually had almost finished my blog for this morning before I left for church and I will publish it one day, but church happened and Spirit said write this. In case you are overcome with curiosity, it was on the Old Testament reading this morning from the Daily Office. Abraham and Isaac. Love that story. High drama, suspense, love and near murder all in one story. I also have the blog written on part 2 of baseball theology, but I am saving that one. For what, I have no idea. Absolutely none. Maybe I am more superstitious than I think and am saving it in hopes that will give us an edge in tomorrow night's county championship game.
I was feeling quite pleased with myself when I arrived at church. Not only had I baked fresh cinnamon bread this am for breakfast, I also actually cooked breakfast. Fresh baked bread, eggs, bacon and strawberries. Nothing taste finer than a NC strawberry in May. Nothing. I had dinner ready to go in the oven tonight. I had put a coat of paint on my back door. I had read the lectionary readings, checked my email and written my blog. I had also finished a load of laundry and remembered to sign my anniversary card for Vance. It is our 17th anniversary today and I did consider writing on that, given my recent overnight stay at my mamma's, but I am saving that one too. I love checking off my to do list, so I sat down at 11am, with my to do list almost complete. I love that feeling. I don't why either. And of course the prayer this morning was for no less than calm minds. Not kidding. No one has ever prayed for me to have a calm mind before. And probably they and I should.
Davis always asks me on the way to church, "What is the sermon going to be about today?" He is always amazed that I can "predict" the scripture and outline a sermon. He still has not quite grasped the concept that I guess well because of the lectionary. Given that he is going to high school this fall, I think I will enjoy being "all knowing" mom as long as I can. I probably only have about three months left of that. So, I was guessing we are either talking about loving each other or Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch.
I have no idea what makes a preacher preach what he or she preaches. I have no idea why certain hymns are sung or not. I can follow the theme but really have never come up with the timeliness of hymns and sermons. I don't think everyone else needs to hear what I hear, but clearly the mystery of preaching works. And it has always never ceased to amaze me. Never. In liturgical churches, the lectionary is usually followed, but for whatever reason, it was not today. I suspect it has something to do with what God thinks I need to hear. Or at least I hope. I have heard those knowings called God tickles or whispering. Usually God has to yell to get my attention. And yell loud. Tickling just doesn't get it for me. Imagine my surprise when the sermon is from John's gospel narrative when Jesus appears to the disciples on the beach. He gives them fishing tips, cooks breakfast, eats with them and disappears. And for some reason that I have never clearly understood and have always wrestled with, Peter was apparently fishing naked. WHY???? And the sermon was so much better than my blog on the same passage a week ago.
And the gospel today was quite simply this: The miracle of the resurrection is in the here and now. There is no need to wait till we die. To experience kingdom living, abundant life-realize this: Go to the other side of the boat. It is when we change perspective that we enter the resurrection moment.
And God being God, knew I needed to hear that, because it was only this week that I had read from one of my favorite writers on hope and why we have it and how we can experience life now. "When you have a plan in place for the worst — you never go to the the place of worry. And the plan for when all hell breaks lose is that Christ’s already broken the power of hell and to live is Christ and to die is gain, so the plan is always joy." Ann Voskamp
As Christians we have the best worst case scenario plan. I can promise you that in this life you will walk through hell. At some point and time you will experience, and quite possibly for a long time, fear, sickness, anxiety, abandonment, grief, heartache, suffering, pain. But we have a disaster plan. It is the other side of the boat.
All is grace and counting it always....
kathleen
Hugs from friends I haven't seen in years
Choirs that sing Tallis
The sound of shoes on stone church floors
Strawberries from NC in May
The smell of fresh baked bread on Sunday morning
Anniversaries
Iris that never fail to bloom exactly year after year the first week of May
Hymns that I don't know but the music makes me think of resting
Prayers that ask for calm minds
Baseball championship games
Herb crusted pork roast that melts in your mouth
Spray paint
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
The Theology of Baseball Part I
My son plays baseball- a lot of baseball. He is on two different teams. Since Sunday, he has played 5 games. He plays on high school now and plays MLB rules except when it comes to substituting players, number of innings played and tie breaker rules. It is real baseball. And it has always made me think a lot about the really good theology found in baseball. It is good stuff. And for reasons not clear to me yet, baseball has become my church. I have found an entire community of people I love and spend a lot of time with in contemplative silence watching grass grow in the outfield or gazing at the sky wondering if we can squeeze the last inning in before the bottom falls out. I love everyone of (OK- I am using hyperbole here- just about everyone) my baseball friends and I do love every little now half grown man-boys I have ever watch play the game. And that is what healthy community does- it teaches you to love through thick and thin, how to behave reasonably like adults, resolve conflict and just plain love each other no matter what. God meant for us to live relationally and I can think of no better way than to follow a baseball team.
Our community always meets at least weekly and usually three times and repeats the same rituals. The rituals center us and bind us together. We put our chairs in nice pew-like rows and face the diamond-like nave. In the middle of this diamond is a piece of earth a little higher than the field. Kind of like those mounts Jesus was famous for sitting on and talking. And we watch the pitcher begin his sermon on the mound for the batter. From fast balls to curve balls to change ups to sliders, the pitchers teaches the batter how to pay attention to life. Life lessons are taught in those at bats. And you do have to pay attention to the pitcher or a change up is going to fool you every time. The spiritual life is alot like that. It requires constant attention or you fall asleep and a change up is going to fool you or you sit back and wait on the perfect pitch and watch it come right across the plate and you never swing the bat. And sometimes that perfect pitch is thrown and you drive it. You drive right down the left base line.
Jesus told us about striking out too. He told he knew we would strike out a lot. And still he raises his fist in triumph, declaring... "thata boy...I knew you could hit it." In fact Jesus expects us to fail more than we do. As a matter of fact, he told Peter he would do it three times in a day. But you strike out, you learn from your mistake, you move on. You don't dwell on it. It is ok to strike out. Babe Ruth struck out 33% of the time. Now I know what you are thinking and this would be the point...BUT he is remembered for the other 66% of the time. As we will be. It is our successes that should define us not our failures. You will get another at bat. So don't worry in that batter box. Stay close to home plate, see the ball and drive it. And as batting coaches are always saying...pu that a bat behind you. Forget about it. It is done. And Jesus is like that too. His short term memory is basically non existent. He does keep a list of wrongs committed. He just smiles and says, "Well, ok you made a mess of things...now go out there and play the glove. That was just one inning guys." God really doesn't keep up with our failures nearly as much as we do. In fact, God doesn't have to, we do such a wonderful job of that ourselves.
And as in the spiritual life, you are going to get walked sometimes. Some things just come easy and with no effort and we forget to say grace. Any way on is what we say in baseball. Any way on the bag. It matters not how you get to first base as long as you. On base percentage is way more important than batting averages. Just ask the Oakland As. And when it is easy, say grace.
And as in the spiritual life, you are going to have wear a few pitches. I remember one night in TN, Davis got hit so hard by a pitch (he was 10), that it left the seam marks on his back for a week. He didn't flinch until he got to the bag and then he collapsed. I yelled, "Its ok Davis, I have ice. Now make sure you steal second." I have been known to yell a time or too..."You gotta wear that one..." My girlfriend with the great shoes thinks I am too hard core and have slipped into the darker side of baseball and I have. But, you really do need to get to first base, because the only way home is through first.
Swinging the bat is important and you have to do it everyday just like a prayer. You keep swinging and you keep praying.
Now sometimes we pray for the wrong things. Like in baseball, some batters like those high fast pitches. But you gotta lay off the high stuff. Sometimes the change up fool us and we forget the basics of praying thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And every once in a while, you get thrown a curve and wind up praying those begging prayers. It is all good. The praying, the constant praying is all good.
Our community always meets at least weekly and usually three times and repeats the same rituals. The rituals center us and bind us together. We put our chairs in nice pew-like rows and face the diamond-like nave. In the middle of this diamond is a piece of earth a little higher than the field. Kind of like those mounts Jesus was famous for sitting on and talking. And we watch the pitcher begin his sermon on the mound for the batter. From fast balls to curve balls to change ups to sliders, the pitchers teaches the batter how to pay attention to life. Life lessons are taught in those at bats. And you do have to pay attention to the pitcher or a change up is going to fool you every time. The spiritual life is alot like that. It requires constant attention or you fall asleep and a change up is going to fool you or you sit back and wait on the perfect pitch and watch it come right across the plate and you never swing the bat. And sometimes that perfect pitch is thrown and you drive it. You drive right down the left base line.
Jesus told us about striking out too. He told he knew we would strike out a lot. And still he raises his fist in triumph, declaring... "thata boy...I knew you could hit it." In fact Jesus expects us to fail more than we do. As a matter of fact, he told Peter he would do it three times in a day. But you strike out, you learn from your mistake, you move on. You don't dwell on it. It is ok to strike out. Babe Ruth struck out 33% of the time. Now I know what you are thinking and this would be the point...BUT he is remembered for the other 66% of the time. As we will be. It is our successes that should define us not our failures. You will get another at bat. So don't worry in that batter box. Stay close to home plate, see the ball and drive it. And as batting coaches are always saying...pu that a bat behind you. Forget about it. It is done. And Jesus is like that too. His short term memory is basically non existent. He does keep a list of wrongs committed. He just smiles and says, "Well, ok you made a mess of things...now go out there and play the glove. That was just one inning guys." God really doesn't keep up with our failures nearly as much as we do. In fact, God doesn't have to, we do such a wonderful job of that ourselves.
And as in the spiritual life, you are going to get walked sometimes. Some things just come easy and with no effort and we forget to say grace. Any way on is what we say in baseball. Any way on the bag. It matters not how you get to first base as long as you. On base percentage is way more important than batting averages. Just ask the Oakland As. And when it is easy, say grace.
And as in the spiritual life, you are going to have wear a few pitches. I remember one night in TN, Davis got hit so hard by a pitch (he was 10), that it left the seam marks on his back for a week. He didn't flinch until he got to the bag and then he collapsed. I yelled, "Its ok Davis, I have ice. Now make sure you steal second." I have been known to yell a time or too..."You gotta wear that one..." My girlfriend with the great shoes thinks I am too hard core and have slipped into the darker side of baseball and I have. But, you really do need to get to first base, because the only way home is through first.
Swinging the bat is important and you have to do it everyday just like a prayer. You keep swinging and you keep praying.
Now sometimes we pray for the wrong things. Like in baseball, some batters like those high fast pitches. But you gotta lay off the high stuff. Sometimes the change up fool us and we forget the basics of praying thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And every once in a while, you get thrown a curve and wind up praying those begging prayers. It is all good. The praying, the constant praying is all good.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
I love you written in Red Doors
I painted my front door red today. Bright, geranium red. I have always wanted a red door even before they were en vogue. Notice how many red front doors you see. About 15 years ago, all home improvement projects boasted a red front door. It has taken me 17 years to paint my door red because it is a very old door and I really liked the aged, distressed look. Fen Sui teaches it invites good energy into your house or something like that. Red doors can also mean the mortgage is paid off. In my case, I am painting my door at exactly the right time. We paid our mortgage off last year.
But I wanted a red door because I love red doors on churches. I am seriously thinking of becoming Episcopalian just so I can go to a church with a red door. I also have a love affair with the Book of Common prayer and I love, love, love high church. I also like the idea of serving real wine at Communion except I am allergic to tannins and I end up with a headache every time I drink a drop of red wine. I am guessing a good pinot gris would not go over very well. And history just thought the Council of Trent was contentious. Can you imagine the conversation over changing from red wine to white?
I also considered becoming Moravian for the coffee and if they served that every Sunday morning, I would never miss a Sunday. I would like to be Catholic because I love the liturgy.
I am learning that I would probably really enjoy being Orthodox too. They have very cool Easter traditions AND your godparents give you a pair of red shoes at your baptism. How cool is that? Just like Dorothy. Ruby red slippers and you just click your heels and you are back in Kansas again. I would have to be re-baptized to join the Orthodox church. Theologically that is insane, it took the first time, but I would do it for the shoes.
Talbots, one of my favorite shopping haunts, has red doors. In Medieval times, the north, south, east and west doors on churches were painted red to symbolize sanctuary. (I am guessing that most men would not think that Talbots is safe for any woman to go inside.) Once inside the doors of the church, no one could run you through with a sword. Those in need could not be harmed, and once inside their physical and spiritual needs could be met. Clearly, times have changed. I would not necessarily think of churches and safe havens synonymously. Churches are pretty dangerous places and they should be if we are to take the Gospel message seriously. So red church doors have a myriad of meaning. I can not recall ever seeing a red door on an evangelical church. Not sure why. But, I haven't. I have seen one on a Methodist church and Lutheran church. The Lutheran tradition traces their red doors back to Martin Luther. Apparently the door to Wittenburg Cathedral was red and he nailed his 95 theses right in the middle of the door. So for some Protestant churches the red is indicating their roots in the Reformation.
Red symbolizes the sacrificial blood of Christ that saves those who come to him. Red is also a reminder of the Passover and a sign of the Holy Spirit. Church doors began to be painted red as a way of remembering the ultimate sacrifice that others had made for their faith.
So for whatever the reason, churches have red doors and I love red doors. As an aside, the Church of England painted its doors blue because of the Virgin Mary. Her color is blue.
And now the door to my house is red. I have been told that my house is very, very peaceful and restful and welcoming. My brother says it reminds him of a bed and breakfast. I would like to think that anyone could come to my house and I would see to it that their physical and spiritual needs are met. I hope the red invites good energy into my house.
But no martyrs. To my knowledge, no one who has been in my house or owned my house was a martyr.
Churches should be dangerous spaces. I am not talking about physical danger but the kind of dangerous love that will change you. Jesus' message was so dangerous, so radical that it got him killed. Talk about politically incorrect. He was the epitome. I deeply suspect he would be in the same boat today with the religious establishment. I deeply suspect he would be turning some tables over.
The Gospel message was a message of radical love. The Daily Office reading yesterday the Sermon on the Mount. Talk about a tough sermon to sell. The key to a beautiful blessed life was spelled out in 10 verses. You will have a beautiful, blessed life if: you are meek, humble, contrite, merciful, poor, pure in heart and persecuted. Certainly not on the top ten character traits most humans strive for. But that is what his dangerous message said. Today, the Daily Office read my most favorite passage of all the gospels. It is found in John. Two people inquire of Philip, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip had to check it out with Andrew first, but once he got the ok, he took them to see Jesus. And what does Jesus tell them? He tells them that they must die to themselves if they wish to have life abundantly. Again, a tough sell. Later in John, after many disciples decided this whole dying to self thing was not for them, they left Jesus. Jesus turned to Peter and the twelve and asked if they would leave too? Peter, of course, supplied the ready answer. He said, "Where would we go?"
And my red door got me thinking about that today. Just how dangerous Jesus' message was and maybe we shouldn't think of churches as sanctuaries, but as catalyst for change. Maybe we should run through those red doors and pray begging prayers that we be changed into humble, meek, merciful, grateful, poor, mourning, contrite, pure, persecuted humans. Maybe the church has it all wrong and instead of being "safe", it demands your life. Maybe the red doors really mean danger. Danger in the sense, if you step through those door, and half hearted prayer for redemption, be ready to lose your life to gain your life. Be ready to bury self to find self. Be ready to love radically, serve radically and to change. And Jesus would not preach change if he didn't know that it is only way to a beautiful life. He would not preach radical service to your fellow man if he didn't know it is the only way to live. Truthfully, there just aren't better options.
All really is grace when you think about it and it causes such joy...
The nameless friend who left me an electric candle
Red paint
Paint brushes
Early summer
Tepid breezes
Maple trees that are not long for this world
Mulch
Snow shovels
Wheelbarrows
The smell of tomato plants
Tomato cages
Planting seed in the dark earth
Orange iced tea
Homemade pizza dough
Baseball games
But I wanted a red door because I love red doors on churches. I am seriously thinking of becoming Episcopalian just so I can go to a church with a red door. I also have a love affair with the Book of Common prayer and I love, love, love high church. I also like the idea of serving real wine at Communion except I am allergic to tannins and I end up with a headache every time I drink a drop of red wine. I am guessing a good pinot gris would not go over very well. And history just thought the Council of Trent was contentious. Can you imagine the conversation over changing from red wine to white?
I also considered becoming Moravian for the coffee and if they served that every Sunday morning, I would never miss a Sunday. I would like to be Catholic because I love the liturgy.
I am learning that I would probably really enjoy being Orthodox too. They have very cool Easter traditions AND your godparents give you a pair of red shoes at your baptism. How cool is that? Just like Dorothy. Ruby red slippers and you just click your heels and you are back in Kansas again. I would have to be re-baptized to join the Orthodox church. Theologically that is insane, it took the first time, but I would do it for the shoes.
Talbots, one of my favorite shopping haunts, has red doors. In Medieval times, the north, south, east and west doors on churches were painted red to symbolize sanctuary. (I am guessing that most men would not think that Talbots is safe for any woman to go inside.) Once inside the doors of the church, no one could run you through with a sword. Those in need could not be harmed, and once inside their physical and spiritual needs could be met. Clearly, times have changed. I would not necessarily think of churches and safe havens synonymously. Churches are pretty dangerous places and they should be if we are to take the Gospel message seriously. So red church doors have a myriad of meaning. I can not recall ever seeing a red door on an evangelical church. Not sure why. But, I haven't. I have seen one on a Methodist church and Lutheran church. The Lutheran tradition traces their red doors back to Martin Luther. Apparently the door to Wittenburg Cathedral was red and he nailed his 95 theses right in the middle of the door. So for some Protestant churches the red is indicating their roots in the Reformation.
Red symbolizes the sacrificial blood of Christ that saves those who come to him. Red is also a reminder of the Passover and a sign of the Holy Spirit. Church doors began to be painted red as a way of remembering the ultimate sacrifice that others had made for their faith.
So for whatever the reason, churches have red doors and I love red doors. As an aside, the Church of England painted its doors blue because of the Virgin Mary. Her color is blue.
And now the door to my house is red. I have been told that my house is very, very peaceful and restful and welcoming. My brother says it reminds him of a bed and breakfast. I would like to think that anyone could come to my house and I would see to it that their physical and spiritual needs are met. I hope the red invites good energy into my house.
But no martyrs. To my knowledge, no one who has been in my house or owned my house was a martyr.
Churches should be dangerous spaces. I am not talking about physical danger but the kind of dangerous love that will change you. Jesus' message was so dangerous, so radical that it got him killed. Talk about politically incorrect. He was the epitome. I deeply suspect he would be in the same boat today with the religious establishment. I deeply suspect he would be turning some tables over.
The Gospel message was a message of radical love. The Daily Office reading yesterday the Sermon on the Mount. Talk about a tough sermon to sell. The key to a beautiful blessed life was spelled out in 10 verses. You will have a beautiful, blessed life if: you are meek, humble, contrite, merciful, poor, pure in heart and persecuted. Certainly not on the top ten character traits most humans strive for. But that is what his dangerous message said. Today, the Daily Office read my most favorite passage of all the gospels. It is found in John. Two people inquire of Philip, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip had to check it out with Andrew first, but once he got the ok, he took them to see Jesus. And what does Jesus tell them? He tells them that they must die to themselves if they wish to have life abundantly. Again, a tough sell. Later in John, after many disciples decided this whole dying to self thing was not for them, they left Jesus. Jesus turned to Peter and the twelve and asked if they would leave too? Peter, of course, supplied the ready answer. He said, "Where would we go?"
And my red door got me thinking about that today. Just how dangerous Jesus' message was and maybe we shouldn't think of churches as sanctuaries, but as catalyst for change. Maybe we should run through those red doors and pray begging prayers that we be changed into humble, meek, merciful, grateful, poor, mourning, contrite, pure, persecuted humans. Maybe the church has it all wrong and instead of being "safe", it demands your life. Maybe the red doors really mean danger. Danger in the sense, if you step through those door, and half hearted prayer for redemption, be ready to lose your life to gain your life. Be ready to bury self to find self. Be ready to love radically, serve radically and to change. And Jesus would not preach change if he didn't know that it is only way to a beautiful life. He would not preach radical service to your fellow man if he didn't know it is the only way to live. Truthfully, there just aren't better options.
All really is grace when you think about it and it causes such joy...
The nameless friend who left me an electric candle
Red paint
Paint brushes
Early summer
Tepid breezes
Maple trees that are not long for this world
Mulch
Snow shovels
Wheelbarrows
The smell of tomato plants
Tomato cages
Planting seed in the dark earth
Orange iced tea
Homemade pizza dough
Baseball games
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