aging

Feeling Hopeful

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August 8, 2023

On our way to pick-up grandson Peter from Camp Widjiwagan in Ely, MN, our daughter Kate suggested stopping at the Paul Wellstone Memorial. Wellstone was Minnesota’s senator from 1991-2002. Just days before the election the plane he was in, along with his wife and daughter, campaign workers and pilots, crashed near Eveleth, MN. Wellstone was a beloved senator known for his progressive politics and his belief that individuals can and must make a difference. In fact, it is not unusual to still see cars with Paul Wellstone bumper stickers. He was and remains a hero to many.

We need a new kind of citizenship so that people earn the rank of the patriot because of involvement in their community affairs. We as a society need to encourage people to focus not just on individual wants, but on serving the the larger community.

Paul Wellstone

Standing before each of the ancient boulders commemorating the lives of each who died in that crash, I couldn’t help but wonder what Wellstone would say today about the precariousness of our democracy. I have no doubt, whether he would still be Minnesota’s senator or not, that he would remain devoted to public service and would be inspiring others to improve the lives of all those in need and experiencing injustice.

I admit, however, it is hard to be hopeful these days and far too easy to fall into fear and discouragement. As I walked this memorial trail, I felt sad and sober as I thought about these inspirational lives of action that had ended far too soon and worried about the morass we seem to find ourselves in today. Is it possible to build on Paul Wellstone’s optimism and energy? And his legacy.

At the beginning of the trail a poem by LeAnn Littlewolf is carved on a large boulder, along with the image of an eagle. Apparently, eagles were seen soaring over the crash site as rescuers arrived.

I took the message of the eagles so beautifully expressed in the poem with me as we continued on our way to Widji.

Peter had been on a ten day hiking trip in the Rockies, along with four other campers and a counselor. During that time there had been no communication home, and we were all eager to hear about their adventures and to know that the time away from screens and conveniences had been positive. We were full of questions, but first, we just needed to give that big guy a squeeze. The reunion was sweet, indeed.

Peter had an incredible time and is even talking about going on a longer trip next year.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Many other groups had returned from their adventures that same day and during the closing campfire, we were treated to stories and memories and accomplishments. Much had been learned. Much had been gained–confidence, compassion and respect for others, care and love for all of creation. The bonds that had been formed were tangible, and I felt the eagle spirit within me and around me soar.

We must not be complacent. Nor can we elders simply turn the mess we are in over to our young people, but it is in this kind of preparation and intention that our hope becomes alive.

On the way home, as Peter talked nonstop, describing each meal, each peak they climbed and the beauties of what they saw, along with the personalities of each of his new brothers, I thought about Paul Wellstone’s earnest encouragement.

We all do better when we all do better.

There is good reason to hope.

An Invitation

Where have you experienced a reason to hope. I would love to know.

Special Request:

I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all. Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now. Thanks–and I hope to hear from you.

Thanks to all of you who have responded. I intend to respond to each of you personally, but before I can do that, please know I am grateful.

The Lessons of A Temporary Space

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August 1, 2023

The steps to the garret needed a fresh coat of paint. The white was dingy and scuffed –no matter how much I scrubbed, and frankly, I was tired of scrubbing. The first decision was to change from white to a pleasant blue, but the second decision was harder—when?! 

I spend a lot of time in the garret. I meet with clients there. I write there and do other desk tasks there. That’s where I create the materials for my groups. My spirituality library and lots of other stuff is there. Plus, the walk-in closet houses the majority of my clothes. 

Since it was too hot to work in the garden, my husband volunteered to take on the project, but the sanding, painting, and drying process would most likely take three days–maybe more. 

I needed to move my center of operations. Fortunately, I have a good alternative. The snug. I even have a desk there, and some of my clients prefer to meet there, instead of climbing the stairs. Up and down I went, moving my laptop, printer, lots of files. LOTS of files, as I considered the projects I needed to work on for the next few days. Stapler. Thesaurus. Oh, and clothes and shoes. What would I want to wear?

Much to my surprise, the space felt comfortable and cozy and I enjoyed working there. If I needed to live only on the first floor, the snug could be my office. 

Even more of a surprise: the stairs were finished and dry in a couple days and I returned to the garret. 

This temporary move plus the fact that we are in the early talking stages about remodeling our first floor bathroom to include a shower (The only shower in the house is in the bathroom in the finished lower level) makes me think even more about the conversation we elders seem to have every time we get together. 

Next steps. What will be our next home? And when? And, of course, the ongoing conversation about the process of getting to that next home –the dreaded downsizing!

Bruce and I plan to stay in our home as long as possible, bringing in services as needed. What would that mean? Is it possible to live only on the first floor, for example? How do we need to prepare for that possibility? Would I stay in this house if Bruce were to die before me? No. I would find it challenging to maintain the home (His gardens!) and would prefer to move into a nice apartment. He, however, would stay in the house if he survives me. 

That’s what we think now, but who knows what might influence a different answer and outcome. And who knows when that will happen. 

How important it is to stay aware of what we are thinking and feeling. What do we need to do now, in order to live our elder life in the best way possible? What do we worry about? What are we experiencing? Enjoying?

How am I changing and what does that mean to how I live? How do I want to use my energy? And how can I stay open to change and ways of coping and managing that change? Am I willing to receive and even ask for help? 

How important it is to listen to the messages I state so vehemently to myself and perhaps to others. Are there areas where I am in denial or stuck? 

“I will not get a hearing aid.” 

 “I will never use a cane.” 

 “I will not move into assisted living.” 

 “I will not give-up driving.” 

“I can’t live without all my books.”  

“We have always had Christmas here and we always will” 

OR… 

Fill-in the blank.

Sometimes I think we elders return to our two-year old toddler beings. “I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.” 

How important it is to continue the conversation. What concerns the family members who love and support us? How is it we hope to live as we age and how can we make that happen? How can these years continue to unfold and enfold us as the people we were created to be and as the beloved of God?

In the meantime I have returned to the garret, but I have returned feeling more willing and able to open my heart and mind to the gifts and the challenges of my next steps. 

An Invitation

What are your thoughts about the next steps, the next place? What gets in the way of being open to those steps? I would love to know. 

Paying Attention and Declaring a Time-Out

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July 11, 2023

Recently, I experienced a week of wondering if it was time to let go of some or all of the activities that have been important in my life in recent years, such as facilitating the weekly writing group at church or meeting with spiritual direction clients. The week was a busy one, and I confess as I approached each item on the calendar, I wished them away. I even felt some anxiety about my ability to lead well, to listen well, to respond and be open. I felt little, if any, enthusiasm for what during other weeks I anticipated with eagerness and interest. Was I simply impersonating an old version of myself, of what I think I should do, continue to do, instead of want to do, feel called to do in the most glorious, joyous way?

Each day as I looked at my calendar and noted what was required for the day, I asked God to just get me through to the point where I could say, “Whew, that’s done.”

That’s not exactly what anyone needs in a spiritual director or in a teacher or leader.

Over a year ago I immersed myself in a period of intentional discernment about whether or not I should continue writing and revising my spiritual memoir or was it time to say, “Enough. Let it be.” Eventually, I decided yes, it was time to let go of working more on the memoir, hoping to find a publisher or deciding to self-publish. That decision continues to feel right.

Now, however, am I entering a new time of discernment? Is it time to retire? I am 75, after all, so that doesn’t seem like an out of the ordinary question. And if it is time to change the menu of my days, what does that mean? How can I continue in my various roles if I no longer feel drawn to them or have energy for them? Has the call I have felt for so long ended?

Big questions.

Then a curious thing happened. And it happened with each appointment and each event. Over and over again during the week.

First of all, I showed up. I left my reluctance outside the door, and I showed up. And then much to my surprise, I engaged. Actually, I re-engaged. And each time I felt a surge of gratitude and love and delight.

In each instance I noticed the movement of God.

But I am a slow learner apparently, for I moved through almost the entire week wondering, as Nadia Bolz Weber has said, if it was time to walk gently away from where I have planted my flags. My flags of identity, of who I say I am.

Finally, while sitting in silence, feeling weary and uninspired, I realized what I needed was something quite simple. I needed a time-out. I didn’t need to make a big change in my life. I didn’t need to announce a Sacred No to all I have loved doing. Instead, I needed to shout a Sacred Yes to some temporary spaciousness. Some simple rest and restoration time. Some time on the patio and in our “Paris” garden. Some unfilled days.

I didn’t need to change my life. I didn’t need or want to retire. I just needed to create some space around myself.

This is not a time to discern the pros and cons of a big decision. That may come at any point, but not right now. Nope, what I actually need to do is pay attention–to the tickly nudges and the quiet melody in the background. I need to close my eyes lightly, not tightly, and feel gentle breezes smooth my rough edges, as well as “the timeless embrace of God,” as Henri Nouwen says.

Not an ending, but a time-out.

The timing was perfect, for the weekend leading to July 4th was at hand, and we had nothing planned. Spacious days beckoned me, and I said, “yes.”

By the way, I am now back to more normal routines and schedules, and I am happy to be there. All is well. Well, indeed.

An Invitation

When do you know when you need a time-out? I would love to know.

A Ritual for 75

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June 27, 2023

Wednesdays are my designated writing days; one day each week to write for venues other than my blog. After recently submitting essays to two online publications, I felt unfocused. I had no shortage of ideas, topics, and themes to explore, but I felt unsettled. As someone who likes to be productive and certainly doesn’t want to waste my precious Writing Wednesdays, I was irritated with myself.

The majority of my essay ideas relate to aging as a spiritual practice. I jotted down possible topics, including clearing the space, sacred yes and sacred no, and opening to a more contemplative life. These topics all appeal to me, and I think are important ones to share with others, but I just couldn’t move my fingers on the keyboard. Sigh.

Then I remembered the collage I made when I turned 70 in 2018. I made that collage both to honor that milestone birthday, but also to envision how I hope to live as I age. For the past five years that collage has been a touchstone as I made decisions about ways to spend my time and use my gifts.

Perhaps it was time to make a new collage. I turned 75 this past April, and frankly, that new number felt daunting to me. Scary is too strong of a word, but I confess I didn’t feel as lighthearted or as blasé about this birthday as I have in other years. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to be 75 and beyond grateful for the privileged, lovely, and loving life I have, but still, I can feel myself holding my breath as I think about this time in my life.

Making the Collage

I quickly sifted through the stash of pictures I keep in a pretty flowered box; pictures torn out of magazines, outdated calendars, and greeting cards too appealing to toss. I quickly sorted them into two piles: the “maybe” pile and the “nope, not today” pile. Selecting some of the images from the “maybe” pile, I arranged and pasted pictures on two pages of a large sketchbook. I did this quickly, not reflectively.

Almost every collage I have made over the years has included at least one open door, and this one is no exception, but beyond the doorway is darkness.

I also see a hazy picture of a person holding an open book, along with shelves of books in a light comfortable setting that reminds me of my beloved garret. And a sleek fountain pen similar to the one I use when I write in my journal; a long-ago gift from my husband.

Fall scenes and winter scenes. A branch of bittersweet, and an empty porch swing covered with snow. A lit lantern, a feather, a view through the windshield of a car. Two people at sunset.

And words.

Light

Breath

View from here

Prayer

Pause

Content

I selected two quotations, as well.

You don’t always have to try so hard to live each day to the fullest. Each day is full all on its own. All you have to do is notice.

Hold company with yourself so sacred that even when you are alone you are whole.

First Responses

The first thing I noticed was how I felt after completing the collage. I felt calm, quiet. I felt more peaceful about this stage of my life.

My second response was that I didn’t need to understand or uncover the deeper meaning of the collage at that very moment. I am willing to let the collage’s guidance unfold over time, but I am not blind to the fact that this collage reflects my own season of life–fall into winter. And in many ways it is a bittersweet time. And a time of ongoing losses, but still there is light. There is companionship. There is time to read and write and be.

And I chuckled about the word “content.” Do I mean content as in subject matter or materials? Or am I referring to the adjective meaning “satisfied”? Or both?

Ah, there is much more to mine here.

Revisiting My 70 Collage

This collage is busier, full of activity and lighter, greener, lusher. More than one allusion to openness–open gates, open door, open window and a path stretching in front of me. Along with a labyrinth. I think to myself, “There must not have been any pictures of a labyrinth in my box of pictures or surely, I would have included it on my 75th collage.”

Of course there are books, but also a feather in this collage, too. A house that looks very much like our garage and a smiling older woman. I also take note of the prickly plant in the corner of the page and a pile of rocks that seem to taunt, “Beware. Obstacles ahead.”

Scattered on the collage are the following phrases: Choose simplicity, keep growing, learn something new, make room for what matters, and breathe deeply. It occurs to me how much those words describe my life in the last five years and how much those words still appeal to me–and give me direction.

Next Steps

I know over time I will reflect on the similarities and the differences between the two collages and what this new collage offers me in this stage of life. I will ask myself what surprised me and what is missing.

Over the years I have created collages as part of receiving or clarifying my word for the year. I also create a new collage when I clear my bulletin board and just can’t part with each image. In other words the ritual of creating a collage is a nurturing spiritual practice and an aid to ongoing discernment.

An Invitation

Do you have any rituals to mark a significant birthday or occasion in your life? I would love to know.

Summer Spirituality

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June 20, 2023

After leaving “Paris,” our side garden and quiet, private space where I often enjoy lunch during the summer, and following the walkway to the back door to return to work time in the garret, this is what I see. Lushness. A multitude of colors and textures. Evidence of God’s creation, but also humanity’s creativity and effort.

I often say I am more of a winter person than a summer person, and that is basically true, but then I breathe in this beauty, thanks to the gifts of the master gardener with whom I live, and I think some part of me must be a summer person, too.

Perhaps acknowledging that I am more than one thing–that I am a winter person, a summer person, a fall person–is a reminder to continue the spiritual journey towards wholeness. To reach towards the person I was created to be, as my awareness of that whole creation continues to unfold.

Notice that I didn’t say I am a spring person. Minnesota often skips the spring season, going from snowstorm to heat stroke without the in-between of temperatures steadily and gently becoming warmer. The need for short sleeve shirts and open windows, along with a desire for trips to the lake, happens when our closets are still stuffed with winter coats, hats, mittens, and boots, and beds bulge with flannel sheets and heavy quilts.

Spring seems confusing to me, even irritating. I can do without the spring one day and the return to winter again the next. I have trouble finding a rhythm that works for me in the spring and spend time trying to understand what is basically unknown–as in “Is spring finally, actually here?” Probably not.

L. M. Montgomery, the author of the Anne of Green Gables books, once wrote , “I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.” Is that a wistful statement; a statement wishing it was always June? is that mainly an awareness of the beauties of June or is it a desire for the status quo, a comfort with the ways things are in the moment? Or is it a statement of concern? What if nothing ever changed? What if we didn’t grow? What if life was one way and one way only? What would happen if I remained tethered to my younger self and didn’t grow further into wisdom?

If I am to continue to grow into wholeness, as I know in my heart, the Divine, the Holy, desires for me, then I am called to be a spring person, too. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but perhaps summer will give me some perspective.

The seasons change. Today is a summer day and tomorrow will be, too. but it will be one day closer to fall. Today I am 75, two months, and 6 days old, and tomorrow I will add one more day to that tally or, if the unknown and unexpected occurs, I will no longer be any age. I think I am beginning to learn during these elder years how all the seasons of our lives add up to the wholeness of a life, the totality of who we were given the opportunity to be.

I hereby declare I am a summer person. I am a fall person. I am a winter person, and yes, I am a spring person, too. And I don’t want to waste one day or take any day, any season for granted.

Bloom where you are planted.

Mary Engelbreit

So you think this is just another day in your life? it’s not just another day. It is the one day that is given to you…today.

Br. David Steindl-Rast

An Invitation

At the recent writing group I facilitate, I posed the following questions for reflection:

  • What have you learned during the winter and spring months that will enhance these summer months? What do you bring with you from the recent months? What is unfinished? What do you need to leave behind?
  • What do you need this summer? A change of pace and/or place? Rest? Inspiration? Connection? What is the call for this summer?
  • What are your hopes for the summer? What is possible? What might the challenges be this summer?
  • Is there a spiritual practice calling you or a new approach or intention for something you already do? How might you open more to the presence of God in your life?

Your thoughts? I would love to know.

Middle of the Night Musings

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June 13, 2023

Late in the day the rains came, along with fresh breezes. How good it was to sleep snuggled under a quilt, windows open, the curtains gently fluttering, and the sound of the chimes playing a newly composed melody.

I woke several times during the night, not unusual for this elder, and each time I heard the light sprinkle of the chimes–less an intrusion and more of an invitation to hold lightly the thoughts of the day and the hopes for the ones to come.

The previous days had been dominated by my husband’s garage sale of the discarded furniture he had transformed with paint, stencils, and transfers. As I have mentioned before in this blog, all the proceeds go to support Rezek House for youth experiencing homelessness. Not only did he receive high compliments for his creative skills, but many who stopped by were interested to learn about the work Lutheran Social Services does for youth. And, of course, the sale meant he is able to hand over a nice chunk of cash!

The garage sale is his thing, not mine, and I thought about how easy and outgoing he is with all those who stop by. He is always pleasant no matter how often he hears someone say, “I don’t need a thing.” My inclination would be to say, “Then why are you spending your time going to garage sales?” He reminds me that garage sales are social events, and he enjoys chatting and hearing people’s stories. I just want to leave the lunch I fixed for him and return to the garret.

Instead of being too hard on myself, which would have led to much tossing and turning, I reminded myself that I am an introvert. I know when and how to use the skills of extroversion, but I am always aware of the rhythm that works best for me. I am definitely not a hermit. I am grateful for the friendships in my life, for my beloved community, and all the other ways of connecting with others, but over the years I have learned when it is time for me to retreat.

As the chimes continued to sing in the branches, I recalled words in one of Glenn Mitchell’s daily “Prayer Notes.” He said writing has been “a way to extrovert my introversion.” Yes, that’s it. That’s what I do. Writing, as a spiritual practice, is a form of communion, not only with God, but with others. I took a deep breath and fell asleep.

The next time I woke, the breezes still lifting the chimes, I felt more awake and decided to move into the living room and read for awhile. I put on my robe, enjoying the coolness, and sat in the dark for a moment before turning on a reading light. Ah, the silence, the emptiness of the hour. I’ve learned I am unable to force myself to fall back asleep, and besides, the unplanned extra reading time is never a waste, especially when the book is so delightful. (Stay tuned–the Thursday Book Report will reveal the title and author.)

The next time I woke I heard a siren in the distance, along with the backyard chimes. I whispered, “May all be well,” and also sighed in gratitude for all those who respond to emergencies. I lifted each name on my prayer list–the chimes tolling for healing and hope and love and compassion for each one.

And finally, in the morning the chimes accompanied my waking and moving into the day. Even now I hear them. Companions as I open myself to the possibilities, the gifts of this day.

Perhaps tomorrow the air will be still, and the chimes will need to wait patiently for another time to be an active presence. In the meantime, I will do my best to stay awake to the other ways to know and feel the Presence.

The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.

Jalaluddin Rumi

An Invitation

In what ways have you experienced Presence recently? I would love to know.

A Week in Review

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May 23, 2023

Have you noticed how some weeks just glow? The days flow with a kind of ease. Perhaps there are more than your usual share of special moments or perhaps the ordinary becomes extraordinary. This past week was one of those weeks, beginning with Mother’s Day and rich family time and ending on Saturday with a top-down drive in my husband’s Miata to a favorite nursery and an outdoor lunch in small town on the St Croix River.

In between I enjoyed productive writing time–writing my posts for the week, as well as working on an essay to submit to a publication. Oh how good it was to write in “Paris.”

I met with my spiritual director and we explored the ways I am lightening my life as I age, including a shorter haircut –silly or trivial as that may sound. I met with spiritual direction clients and the writing group I facilitate. The moments of silence, of sitting with one another open my heart and clear the space for what most needs tending. Such a privilege those times are.

The grandkids delivered homemade cookies one evening (delicious) and another evening we had dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Sea Salt overlooking Minnehaha Falls. I walked every morning and read on the patio. Finished a book and started another.

We attended a gala for Theater Latte Da, a local theater that specializes in musicals, often new and never before produced, and enjoyed time with friends but also the wonderful musical entertainment. Once I figured out what I was going to wear, all was well!

One morning I went to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (MIA) to see an exhibit called “Eternal Offerings, Chinese Ritual Bronzes.” Yes, the objects created to honor ancestors or to communicate with the spiritual world were beautiful, but the atmosphere created —sound, murals on the walls, lighting— all added to the appreciation of the objects. I took my time moving through the rooms–allowed myself to relax into the beauty and the history, as well as the spiritual life of a culture not my own. I had not been to MIA for a long time and made a mental note to return soon.

The Foundation of Each Day

I began each day reading a meditation from You are the Beloved, Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living by Henri J. M. Nouwen, compiled and edited by Gabrielle Earnshaw. Perhaps this past week shimmered for me because each of those readings so resonated with me, beginning on Sunday, May 14 when Nouwen writes about prayer as a “careful attentiveness to the Presence of Love personified inviting us to an encounter.”

I felt as if I encountered God each day, wherever I was, whatever I was doing, and whomever I was with.

Contemplative prayer can be described as an imagining of God’s Son, Jesus, letting him enter fully into our consciousness so that he becomes the icon always present in the inner room of our heart.

May 15

…many words from the Scriptures can reshape the inner self. When I take the words that strike me during a service into the day and slowly repeat them while reading or working, more or less chewing on them, they create new life.

May 16

But when we believe that we are created in the image of God himself and come to realize that Christ came to let us reimagine this, then meditation and prayer can lead us to our true identity.

May 17

Listen to your heart…Praying is first and foremost listening to Jesus who dwells in the very depths of your heart.

May 18

Prayer allows us to lead into the center of our hearts not only those who love us but also those who hate us. This is possible only when we are willing to make our enemies part of ourselves and thus convert them first of all in our own hearts.

May 19

Just because prayer is the most precious expression of being human, it needs the constant support and protection of the community to grow and flower.

May 20

Here it is day three of the current week, and my days continue to flow, to glow, to shimmer, to open me to the movement and presence of God. Ah, how grateful I am.

An Invitation

What do you notice as you review your days? I would love to know.

Notes about Spiritual Practices

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May 16, 2023

Every morning our neighbors across the street walk the block and a half to the Catholic Church for mass.

Every morning.

Attending the service is certainly a spiritual practice that no doubt strengthens their faith, but the walk itself is a spiritual practice: a time to prepare for the ritual of worship and prayer; a time to open to the movement and presence of God, a reinforcement of the gifts of contemplation; and perhaps, incentive to be partners in God’s reconciling love for the world.

That’s a lot happening in a short round-trip walk, but when you make room for a spiritual practice in your daily life and commit to a regular practice, God will notice and you will notice God. 

Is there anything I can do to make myself enlightened?
As little as you can do to make the sunrise in the morning.
Then what use are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?
To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise.
                              Anthony de Mello

I’ve written often in this blog and elsewhere about spiritual practices and the role they play in aiding the discovery of and living as the person God created me to be. That process is an ongoing pilgrimage, and I need spiritual practices to fortify and sustain me in my intentions:

  • To feel God’s presence and support,
  • To feel connected to the whole,
  • To integrate the model of Jesus into my life,
  • To give my life meaning, even as I age,
  • To move from fear to love.

I have core spiritual practices; practices that have been part of my life for a long time, including writing in my journal and starting the day with meditation and prayer time, but at various times in my life, and often with a change of the season, I add in other practices to spark and surprise me as I move through my days. Two examples:

  • Take one photograph on my daily walk. Just one. Right now as spring is bursting how tempting it is to click, click, click on my walk, but confining myself to one photograph only seems to open my eyes even more. When I see something of beauty, of interest I stop and ask myself, “What do you notice? How is this a sign of God? What does this sight awaken in you? What of this moment will you carry with you?” Even when I decide not to take photograph at that moment, the pause, the taking a breath, the observing is a gift that becomes part of who I am and how God is present in my life. And somehow I seem to know when it is time for the one photograph of the day. No doubts. No hesitation. It is time. Do I ever regret not taking a picture of something I’ve seen. Not so far, but that could happen. Instead, that makes me aware of the abundance of wonders all around me, and understanding I can never capture them all. Why not let my one picture of the day symbolize the whole, the all.
  • Adopt a mantra and whisper it throughout the day. Lately, thanks to a meditation in You Are the Beloved, Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living by Henri Nouwen, I recite the words, “I am the glory of God.” I repeat the sentence as I walk up the stairs to the garret or make the bed in the morning or open the refrigerator when it is time to fix dinner. I change the mantra to “You are the glory of God,” as I see my husband working his magic in the garden or I insert the name of a spiritual direction client as I sit in silence before the beginning of a session. Here’s what Nowen writes,

Make that thought the center of your meditation so that it slowly becomes not only a thought but a living reality. You are the place where God chose to dwell, you are the topos tou theou (God’s place) and the spiritual life is nothing more or less than to allow that space to exist where God can dwell, to create the space where his glory can manifest itself. In your meditation you can ask yourself, “Where is the Glory of God? If the glory of God is not there where I am, where else can it be?”

May 10, p. 144
  • Planning the week. On Sunday I turn the page of the notebook I keep on the top of my desk and I write down the schedule for the week. The events, the appointments. Yes, those are on my laptop and phone calendars, but writing them on this clean page is an act of mindfulness, of blessing. I also create my To Do lists for three categories–Writing Tasks, Church Tasks, and Other Tasks. Again, doing this on the Sabbath is an act of mindfulness and blessing. I’ve been blessed with a fresh start, another week to live with intention, but even more than that, with gratitude for this life I am privileged to live.

During the Sunday service one of our members played a gorgeous piano solo. He is a busy physician, husband and father, and I imagine that playing the piano is relaxing for him, but as I listened to him, I had no doubt this was a form of spiritual practice for him, also. All of us listening received the fruits of that spiritual practice.

Practices are a way of embodying the spiritual journey rather than merely thinking about it. Practices help us to bring the reality of what we seek into the physicality and earthiness of our lives.

Christine Valters Paintner

An Invitation

What are your spiritual practices? What is currently part of your life that is actually a spiritual practice without your realizing it? I would love to know.

Clearing and Creating New Space

/ nagneberg48 / 10 Comments

May 9, 2023

Recently, my husband “suggested” that it is time to simplify the kitchen cupboards. After all, we have twelve white plates, but we use the same two over and over.

And bowls–how many bowls are really necessary? Cereal bowls, mixing bowls, pasta bowls, serving bowls. I admit I do have a thing about bowls. One of my favorite bowls is the light blue bowl on the top shelf, and I only use it when I make cherry walnut bread at Christmas time. I suppose I could use it at other times, too, but somehow, that doesn’t seem right. And then there are the 24 small vintage bowls or as my grandmother called them, sauce dishes. I bought them several years ago when we hosted an informal soup supper for Bruce’s colleagues. How likely is it that we will ever again need 24 bowls at the same time?

Over the years we have hosted many dinner parties and parties. I have spent days planning menus and cooking and cleaning and have loved the whole process, but it now seems unlikely that we will host large groups again or even have more than six people for dinner.

Our entertaining style has changed. What we most enjoy now is inviting two people over (We have four comfortable chairs in our living room.) for “4 o’clocks”–a drink and appetizers. Cheese, sausage, crackers. A dip, maybe some fruit. Something hot. Nibbles. Often a recipe I have wanted to try. Most important is the relaxed, but intimate atmosphere for fun and meaningful conversation. Oh, and much easier clean-up. Now with warmer weather we will enjoy our “4 ‘clocks” on the patio.

I realize the issue here is not my deep attachment to a material thing, but instead I sometimes struggle accepting who I am now–my age, my energy. At the same time I have become more and more clear about how I want to spend my time and use my gifts. Still, however, I cling to the earlier images of myself. Those stacks of dishes and a bowl for every purpose under heaven represent the ways I lived in earlier years when I had much more energy. The more the merrier when it came to entertaining.

I still have a good amount of energy and lots of interests and am blessed with many people with whom I enjoy spending time, but how much of a good thing I can hold in a day is more limited. Susan Moon in Alive Until You Are Dead, Notes on the Home Stretch, reflects on what she can do with “joyful effort” in her late 70’s. I love that.

An Ongoing Process

Our daughter and son-in-love have hosted the previous two Thanksgiving dinners, but this coming year they may be visiting our granddaughter, who will spend a semester in Greece. How grand is that! Our son and daughter-in-love usually come for the Christmas holidays, and we love all of us being together. But what does that mean for Thanksgiving? Well, my husband, open and generous person that he is, suggested we should host a friendsgiving for all those in our life who are alone. Only a few years ago I would have rejoiced with the idea, but this time I didn’t respond–at least not aloud. I admit I thought about all the work, all the energy that would take (and the bowls!). I know this is a decision that doesn’t need to be made now, and there are lots of ways to make an event like that happen, but it is another one of those opportunities to pay attention to who I am now.

If you have read my essay in Next Avenue (https://www.nextavenue.org/your-children-may-want-your-stuff/) you know how decluttering and managing the stuff of life is an ongoing process. I suspect that leaving some room on the kitchen shelves will open some space in my heart and mind to more fully live as I age.

Words of Wisdom

When I look around the crowded room and wonder why I am keeping the large desk when a smaller one would do just as well, something inside of me is beginning to change. When three sets of dishes are two sets too many, I have begun to need more than just things. When the house is too crowded and the car is too big and the perfect lawn too much of a bother, I have begun a whole new adventure in life…It is the shaping of the soul that occupies us now. Now, consciously or, more likely, not, we set out to find out for ourselves who we really are, what we know, what we care about, and how to be simply enough for ourselves in the world.

The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister, p.91

My Intentions

  • I will pay attention to what I actually use–how and when I use what fills my cupboards. Just looking at the above picture, I see two bowls that can go.
  • I will add some of my kitchen treasures to the annual garage sale my husband has in June to sell the discarded furniture he has rescued, painted, and given new life. The proceeds from his sale go to a program for homeless youth.
  • I will simplify the stack of 24 sauce dishes –keep 6 of them. Or maybe 8.

An Invitation

What outer and inner shelves in your life need to be cleared? I would love to know.

Spiritual Practices for My Elder Years

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

May 2, 2023

When I turned 70, I made a collage to honor that milestone birthday, but also to envision how I hoped to live as I aged.

I quickly sifted through the stash of pictures I kept in a pretty flowered box; pictures torn out of magazines, outdated calendars, and greeting cards too appealing to toss. I sorted them into two piles–the “maybe” pile and the “nope, not today” pile. No judgment. Just a quick “yes” or “no.” Cutting and pasting, I arranged selected images on the paper.

Only later did I sit back and ask, “What are the messages for me in this collage? How can this collage be sacred text for me?”

An image of the labyrinth anchored the center of one side. A candle with wispy smoke and a feather suggested the tentativeness of life. Chairs gathered around a fire and an aged hand that held the model of a house with a red door, just like our house, reminded me of my love of home tending. A big basket seemed to contain memories, as did the leaves gathered into a harvest handful. Of course, there were books stacked along the bottom of the paper. My terra firm.

Almost every collage I have made over the years has included at least one open gate, door, window, or path. This one includes two gates, an open door, and a window, plus a green path, all beckoning me onward, forward, it seemed. I remember, however, feeling some inner hesitation. What was across the threshold? What awaited me down that snow-lined path?

A prickly plant in the corner of the page and a pile of rocks taunted, “Beware. Obstacles ahead.”

Youthful innocence and naïveté were no longer my companions.

An older woman, smiling, pleasant looking, gazed at the labyrinth. I heard her whispering the words I included on the collage:

Choose simplicity.
Keep growing.
Learn something new.
Make room for what matters.
Breathe deeply.

She is my observer, my witness, my companion. My guide.

Being 75

Now I am 75, and I must admit, that age feels a bit daunting,

Since creating my 70th birthday collage, I have experienced losses–the death of my father and a dear friend, for example. I have sent so many sympathy cards and frequently re-order copies of Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman to give when someone in my life loses a loved one. And then there were the COVID years. Enough said! My health remains good, however, as does my husband’s, and we both continue to pursue our interests and to serve in ways that matter to us. True, I may not pack as much into a day as I once did, but my days remain full and rich.

I am grateful for these past five years.

I know I need to tend my days wisely, not only not to waste them, but to unfold into the gifts of this time. I’m not done yet, for I am both living and aging, but I respond now more with patience and curiosity, then with urgency and a desire for productivity.

I embrace a posture of contemplation.

A New Spiritual Practice

Recently, while browsing through my library of books about aging, I re-read a section titled “Pebbles of Life” in Aging as a Spiritual Practice, A Contemplative Guide to Growing Older and Wiser by Lewis Richmond. He shares a story about visiting the home of a fellow Zen priest who had a bowl full of pebbles next to a Buddha statue. Richmond’s friend said each pebble represented a week in the rest of his life, based on statistics about average life expectancy. Every Monday morning after his meditation he removes one of the pebbles. One week gone; who knows how many left to go.

“A mindfulness practice.”

The average life expectancy for a woman in the United States is 80. I am 75 so if I live five more years that equals 260 more weeks.

I counted out 260 little glass discs and placed them in a green glass jar. I was a bit dismayed at first that they didn’t fill the jar, and I wished I had started this practice when I was 70 or even younger. I no longer overflow with weeks ahead of me, I thought.

“A mindfulness practice.”

Of course, I have no idea how much longer I will live, but my mother died at 79, several pebbles shy of her 80th birthday. However, my father died just three years ago at age 96. He would have needed more pebbles in his jar.

I realize some of you readers may find this practice depressing or it might make you anxious, but my hope is that when I remove one of the glass discs every Monday morning that I will reflect on a week lived in gratitude and joy. I hope each glass disc will remind me to live in the present moment; to live with purpose and to open to ways I can become more of the person I was created to be.

I hope the words from my 70th birthday collage will continue to direct and honor my days.

Choose simplicity.
Keep growing.
Learn something new.
Make room for what matters.
Breathe deeply.

These elder years are found time. Sacred time.

An Invitation

What are your guiding words and spiritual practices during these elder years? I would love to know.