Note: I’m taking a break next week. The next post will be Tuesday, July 26, 2022.
I’ve always loved reading mysteries, beginning with Nancy Drew, of course. Later, I worked my way through Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers and more recently, I’ve indulged my Louise Penny and Jacqueline Winspear addictions. (The next Louise Penny, by the way, won’t be released until November.)
I’ve always balanced reading mysteries with reading nonfiction and literary fiction, but this month? Not so much.
At the beginning of the month I read one of Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey books, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club. My only regret was that I wasn’t on vacation at a lake resort where the only diversion was the occasional putt-putt of a motor boat or the haunting call of a loon. It is that kind of book –witty and subtle and oh, so upperclass English.
Then I got sucked into the Ruth Galloway series by Elly Griffiths. I recall reading at some point the first book in the series, The Crossing Places and enjoyed it, but I did not feel compelled to grab the next in the series–and there is a total of 14 of them with a new one planned for 2023. This month, however, that changed, and not only am I reading them, but so is my husband and our daughter.
I am currently reading #5, A Dying Fall, and will more than likely finish that today.
Ruth Galloway is an English forensic archaeologist who often helps the police, developing a close relationship with copper Harry Nelson. The unfolding of the plot is always interesting, but as is usually the case for me, the characters interest me more. I just discovered when I looked up the author website that she has also written other mystery series and stand-alone books as well. Oh no!!!
I know I don’t need to justify, nor should you, why I choose to read a particular book or series of books or genres, but I admit I am curious why I am so enamored of mysteries right now. I seem to need lighter reading, a quick read, or what is often called “summer reading,” or “beach reading.”
Yesterday I received the weekly online newsletter from one of my favorite bookstores, Arcadia Books in Spring Green, WI, and the opening column referenced a bumper sticker, “It’s brutal out here.” How true that is. Often, the crimes committed in the mysteries I read are brutal, too, but in 300 or so pages, the mystery is solved and good people have worked to make that so. The known is made known. The uncertainty is resolved. And life goes on.
if only the real world was that simple.
So…to balance watching the January 6 hearings and listening to the news on NPR and reading the NYTImes and Washington Post, as well as informed and thoughtful online newsletters, I am reading mysteries, and Elly Griffiths is a good choice.
An Invitation
Has your reading changed in recent months? I would love to know.
NOTE: After my post on Thursday, July 14, I will take a brief break. I will return with new posts beginning Tuesday, July 26, 2022.
While on my morning walk, I spotted this dozing kitty. Clearly, its rhythm for the morning was rest. Perhaps later it would play with a ball of yarn, give itself a bath or scamper after a bug in the grass, but for right now, “Take it easy.”
You may recall that my Word for the Year is “rhythm;” a word that has proven to be so helpful as I move through my days. Many times a day I stop and read Sue Patton Thoele’s words, which I have taped to my laptop.
I ask myself, What is today’s rhythm? Or the rhythm needed for this exact moment? What is my rhythm and how does my rhythm meet the needs and demands and expectations for right now?
Sunday mornings, usually before going to church for the early service, I consult my calendar for the new week, noting appointments and events, and I make the week’s To Do list.
My lists include writing plans; social events to arrange; preparation for the writing group I lead and the one in which I am a participant; household tasks like paying bills, as well as a list of names–those I want to email or send a card or letter. Some weeks the list feels more manageable than others. Some weeks the list contains items moved from one week to another. “Leftovers,” I call them. Some weeks feel more spacious than others and others, full of possibilities.
This list outlines the external rhythm for the week, but not to be ignored is my internal rhythm. How will the two fit together? And how will the rhythm of “doing” match the rhythm of “being”?
As I enter Sunday morning worship, I hold this peek into the coming days in my heart. I pray I might be open to what I am asked to do, what I need to do, and that I might be a welcoming presence for those scheduled to meet with me in spiritual direction sessions. I pray I might be flexible when needed, but also that I not ignore the internal call of my own rhythms, whether it is to rest and restore in solitude or to seek companionship.
Being aware of the days’ rhythms means paying attention to my body. One morning last week I slept over an hour later than I normally do, and I was shocked when I looked at the clock. My first inclination was to chastise myself and to think about the time lost. Oh, what I could have done in that hour and how would I make up the time! Then, however, and I am pleased to say this, I relaxed into the rhythm of the rest of the day. I had worked hard the day before, doing some cleaning I had not done in quite some time, and my body needed the extra rest. My body knew it and took over.
is this attention to rhythm just a sneaky way to talk about changes as I age? Maybe, but sitting at my desk in the garret, I hear the soft ripple of water in my tabletop fountain and I see the collage of pieces done by friend and artist Steve Sorman, and I sense the rhythm of God in my life now, and the invitation to live that rhythm. Right now.
Joan Chittister, O.S.B., is a Benedictine nun, theologian, speaker, and prolific author. As a visionary voice in church and society, she has served in a variety of leadership roles, including co-chair of the UN sponsored Global Peace Initiative of Women.
Occasionally, actually more than occasionally, Chittister is the object of controversy and criticism–for her stances on contraception, abortion, women’s ordination as contradicting Roman Catholic teaching. Several years ago she was prohibited by the Catholic patriarchy from attending the first Women’s Ordination Worldwide Conference, and –no surprise–she not only attended, but gave the opening address.
Even though I have never met her I consider her one of my spiritual directors. I have heard her speak many times, most often at the Chautauqua Institution in New York, where she is a frequent and popular speaker at the afternoon theology forums, and, of course, I have read many of her books.
We Are All One, Reflections on Unity, Community, and Commitment to Each Other (2018)
This small book is my current “before I make the bed” book.
One of the chapters, “Holy Accountability” begins with this quote:
It is not God’s fault that things are as they are at present, but our own.
Etty Hillesum
Not the Republicans’ fault. Not the former President’s fault (or the current one). Not the superintendent of schools or the mayor or police department or the neighbor who doesn’t mow his lawn or the parent who doesn’t discipline his child or…..
No, the fault is our own. My own.
As if that weren’t enough, Chittister asks,
Here’s a quiz: What do the Adam and Eve story and the presidential election of 2016 in the United States have in common? Give up? It’s easy: free will, accountability–and oh, yes, a snake in the tree.
p. 41
Does that grab you? Chittister goes on to remind us that Adam and Eve lost “paradise” because they ignored their responsibilities. Ouch.
One of her attributes as a writer and a speaker is her ability to target the heart of a matter in a few words and to challenge the reader/listener to examine beliefs and perspectives and then to respond.
The great human task is to make life better for everyone. To be satisfied with anything less marks us as less than fully developed human beings.
p. 45
The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully (2008)
I own sixteen Joan Chittister books; many I have read more than once. The Gift of Years has become sacred text for me, and I consult it frequently, trusting its wisdom and its ability to challenge my fears and enlarge my vision.
Again, in a few words, Chittister tackles big topics, such as regret, letting go, loneliness, transformation, forgiveness, faith. With each topic she opens me to both burden and the blessing. For example:
The burden of regret is that, unless we come to understand the value of the choices we made in the past, we may fail to see the gifts they have brought us.
The blessing of regret is clear–it brings us, if we are willing to face it head on, to the point of being present to this new time of life in an entirely new way. It urges us on to continue becoming.
p. 5
Chittister does not have her head in the sand about the challenges of becoming older, of being old, (She wrote this at age 72 and is now 86 and still writing and speaking and influencing.) but, instead, she reminds us that even in this stage of life there is life to live. I am still becoming.
Other Chittister Books
I think it may be time to re-read The Time is Now, A Call to Uncommon Courage (2019) and Between the Dark and the Daylight, Embracing the Contradictions of Life (2015). I am also tempted to add The Monastic Heart: 50 Simple Practices for a Contemplative and Fulfilling Life to my library.
As I said, Joan Chittister is one of my spiritual guides, and I need more time with her.
Sunday evening my husband asked me, “What are you planning to do tomorrow?”
My answer, “Clean the first floor bathroom.”
That’s not much of a plan for the 4th of July, but the bathroom did need its weekly cleaning.
We had spent a delightful afternoon in holiday mode. We packed a picnic and picked up a couple friends and headed to a nearby lake. We settled into a quiet afternoon of easy food and conversation and enjoyment of summer breezes and views of kayakers and paddle boarders. Part of the afternoon we were each absorbed in our books. Perfect.
Monday the 4th, wet and dreary, gave me no excuse to put off cleaning the small first floor bathroom. Besides a few days earlier we had gone to a favorite antique shop, and I found a sweet and inexpensive painting. However, it was a bit too large for where I envisioned placing it. How about the recessed shelf by the bathtub?
And that’s how one thing led to another.
Normally, cleaning that small bathroom takes about 20 minutes, but first I removed what had been displayed in that shelf and dusted and washed the space. After placing the painting at the back (perfect size!), I tried a few different vignettes before landing on the one where I said, “Done.”
But then I thought as long as I had cleaned that area throughly, I might as well move the little black cupboard and scrub the tile behind it and rearrange those open shelves. And then I decided to empty the medicine cabinet and clean those shelves. I don’t always scrub all tile walls, top to bottom, but why not do that, too?
And finally, wasn’t it time to take down the curtain camouflaging the closet I use as a vanity, wash that, as well as conduct an inventory of everything stored there.
Too bad I didn’t have fresh shelf paper. Oh well!
What started as routine, doing the usual suspects of cleaning tasks, became an even fresher, cleaner and more pleasing space.
One thing led to another.
How often that happens. One idea leads to another. One project becomes something else, often something more.
One of the tricks is knowing when to stop. I could have taken down all the pictures and the gallery of mirrors hanging in there, but I chose not to do that. Enough is enough, I told myself. Doing that didn’t feel necessary, but I filed that task in the back of my head. Maybe I’ll do that on Labor Day!
Hometanding and Discernment
Taking care of our home, adding to the comfort and beauty of our home, is one way I pay attention to inner nudges. Sometimes cleaning and rearranging and sorting and tossing and simplifying actual rooms and drawers and closets is a prelude to metaphorical clearing the space, creating spaciousness in my head and my heart. And sometimes those tasks set the scene and prepare me for whatever it is I am to do next.
The past few months I have been in a period of discernment. At first I focused on whether or not to continue working on the spiritual memoir I have been writing for a LONG time, but eventually, I realized my discernment was about more than one project. Instead, I wondered how I am called to use my energy and my gifts at this stage of my life.
To examine that question I have needed to create some spaciousness in my days.
Today I feel closer, if not to an answer, at least more of a direction.
Cleaning the bathroom, doing more than the usual routine, but instead allowing one thing to lead to another, opens me to possibilities and to internal instructions.
After I finished cleaning, I fixed my lunch and read for an hour–an old Peter Whimsey mystery, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club by Dorothy Sayers, I sat at my desk in the garret and jotted down some fleeting thoughts. One thing seemed to lead to another.
Stay tuned.
An Invitation
When has one thing led to another for you? I would love to know.
That about summarizes my reading this month, but perhaps you want details.
Big Books
I read three books over 500 pages and don’t regret one minute immersed in all those pages.
The Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois by Honoree Fannonne Jeffers. The main character Ailey spends summers in a small Georgia town where her mother’s family lived in bondage as slaves. The book explores the complicated history of that family and leads us through the generations, going back and forth in time. As readers we see the results of the trauma, oppression, and cruelty, as well as the resiliency and passion for life. In the middle of the book I wearied of the male dominant-female abused sex scenes, but was glad I didn’t give up reading the book, for there is much to love in these characters and their lives.
The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher. Another terrific summer read, a re-read in my case. I wonder if I read this in the summer the first time around. The title refers to a painting, and each chapter focuses on a specific character, although the main character Penelope, who is the daughter of the painter and a figure in the painting, is never far away. You will love some characters and others, not so much!
Books Read Again
Along with The Shell Seekers, I re-read The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields, which is well-worth reading again or for the first time, if you have not yet read it. The book is divided into sections: Birth, Childhood, Marriage, Love, Motherhood, Work, Sorrow, Ease, Illness and Decline, Death. A full and complete life. Daisy Goodwin Flett’s mother, Mercy Stone was raised in an orphanage, the Stonewall Orphan Home, and her father was a stone cutter. Thus the title. The book is Daisy’s witness to herself –there is a reference to her “decoding” her life. Gorgeous writing that is at once lush and understated.
A Book About Books and Bookstores
In Praise of Good Bookstores by Jeff Deutsch. At times obscure and too esoteric for summer reading. Nevertheless, I enjoyed being reminded of the gift of browsing good bookstores. The author says there are many types of browsers, including the idler who just wants to while away the hours, the flaneur who meanders through the stacks, observing, loitering, shuffling; the general who sees the stacks as a thing to be conquered; and the pilgrim, who seeks wisdom. Deutsch worked at the famous Seminary Co-op Bookstore in Chicago, which unfortunately no longer exists, but I am grateful I visited it a couple times and left its underground warren of rooms with piles of books for my personal library of spirituality and theology books.
Books With Spies and Intrigue
The Expats and The Paris Diversion by Chris Pavone. This author has written LOTS of books, including a brand new one, Two Nights in Lisbon. The Paris Diversion is a sequel to The Expats. At times I didn’t quite follow the plot and at times I didn’t care for the main characters, a husband and wife, both full of secrets. However, I loved the twists and turns–and being in Luxembourg and Paris.
New Books, Old Books.
I’ve already mentioned three of the new books I read this month (The Great Circle–2021; The Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois–2021, and In Praise of Good Bookstores–2022). The fourth new book is nonfiction, Bitter Sweet, How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole by Susan Cain. Cain’s earlier book, Quiet, The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (2012) is on my personal Great Books List; a book that made a difference in how I view myself and my relationship to the world. This book isn’t on that same level, but I identified with much of what she wrote. On her Bittersweet quiz, I scored 8. Above 5.7 means I am a “true connoisseur of the place where light and dark meet.” The book includes excellent chapters on grief and inherited pain.
The Shell Seekers was published in 1987 and The Stone Diaries in 1994. I also read Solar Storms, a novel, by Linda Hogan published in 1995 and Without a Map, a memoir, by Meredith Hall published in 2007. Reading Solar Storms, I felt totally immersed in Native American spirituality. Angel has been separated from her mother, who hurt her physically and emotionally, but she sets out to reconnect. The book is rich in transformation and reconciliation and also the urgency of saving the traditional native way of life. I read a used copy, and I loved seeing what the previous owner had marked as meaningful.
Meredith Hall wrote the luminous novel Beneficence, which I wrote about in a May post. https://livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/2022/05/19/book-report-beneficence-by-meredith-hall-2020/ Without a Map is her stunning memoir of a life that could easily have ended in tragedy or at the very least bitterness, but instead the author is a woman of great compassion and forgiveness. When she was pregnant at age 16 in the 1960’s, she was expelled from school, totally rejected by her parents, and the baby was adopted without her seeing him. Somehow she survived, but life remained challenging for many years. This book helps me understand the insight and compassion she has for her characters in Beneficence.
So that does it for this month: 10 books for summer days.
An Invitation
What did you read this month? I would love to know.
When my husband and I were first married, and he was in medical school, I taught high school English at a large and diverse public high school in Webster Groves, Missouri. That job supported us during those years, but that was in 1971 and my income didn’t make a difference when I applied for a credit card. Only my husband’s income counted, but he didn’t have an income.
In his last year of medical school I was pregnant. Our first child was due in August, which meant I would be able to teach through the end of the school year, and then we would move back to Minnesota where Bruce would be a resident in family practice. He would have an income.
What I didn’t know those first months of my pregnancy was that the superintendent of schools and the principal (both white men) conferred to decide if I would be allowed to continue teaching. Apparently, school board members were consulted as well. You see, I was the first female teacher in the school district who didn’t lose my job because of pregnancy.
There is another piece to this story. There were a number of students, who were also pregnant, and during the lunch hour we gathered in my classroom to talk about how we were feeling and what we saw in our futures. I was the only one who had a bright future; a future that included a husband with a good job; a future that included good medical care; a future that welcomed this new life I was growing.
I know some faculty members felt those young women should not have been allowed to continue attending classes, and I also recall some of my colleagues who were uncomfortable working with a pregnant teacher and expressed that discomfort, making off-color remarks.
I have often thought about those young women sitting uncomfortably in my classroom on chairs not made for pregnant women. What has happened to them and to their babies? And what do they think about the recent Supreme Court decision.
I tell these stories because they are examples of women not being viewed as full human beings, as people deserving of all the rights assumed by men, especially white men.
Others decided what I and other women were allowed to do and how to move forward in our lives.
The next decades saw lots of changes. Thank you feminists of both sexes for working to make these changes. Not all was perfect. Not everything changed, and the fight for equality for all has continued, but now, just like the children’s game, Simon Says, the Supreme Court has dictated, “Take a giant step backwards.” The writer Glennon Doyle calls this time “The Great Backslide.”
I am angry and I am sad. And I am scared about the future.
Earlier in the week I sat in my “Paris” garden and addressed and wrote messages on postcards to be sent to registered Democratic voters in Florida. The message was a simple reminder to request mail-in ballots for the upcoming election. I supplied the postcards, the stamps, and the time, and Postcards to Voters sent me the instructions and a mailing list. The morning’s task felt like prayer.
Be angry. Be sad, and acknowledge your fear, but at the same time lift your voice in the way that truly makes a difference: VOTE.
Vote and remind others to vote. Are there young people in your lives who are eligible to vote? Ask them if they have registered? If they haven’t, let them know what they need to do and help them do that, if necessary. Share stories and experiences with them about what it means to live without the right to live authentically and fully. Tell them to celebrate your birthday or the 4th of July by requesting a mail-in ballot.
It is good to march and protest and certainly to support worthy candidates and causes financially, but ultimately, what each of us can do and needs to do is vote. Vote for candidates who are willing to support the rights of all people.
In the summer I am more apt to begin my day with a walking meditation than reading, writing in my journal, and praying in my Girlfriend Chair in the garret. However, some days I still create time for devotions, study, and reading. My current stack is enticing.
The Seven Story Mountain, An Autobiography of Faith by Thomas Merton (1948). I can’t quite believe I have never read this classic, although I have read a number of other Merton titles. For example, both New Seeds of Contemplation (1961) and Spiritual Direction and Meditation (1960) have been important books in my own spiritual development. This spring I found a copy of The Seven Story Mountain in a Little Free Library. “Now is the time.” In the introduction Robert Giroux, Merton’s friend and editor, relates a story about receiving a piece of hate mail. “Tell this talking Trappist who took a vow of silence to shut up!” Giroux’s answer was “Writing is a form of contemplation.” That was all I needed to begin reading this work of contemplation, which I am reading contemplatively. An aside: Merton was accidentally electrocuted in Bangkok in 1968. I was a student there then, but knew nothing about Merton or his death and only later was drawn to his work.
Unbinding, The Grace Beyond Self by Kathleen Dowling Singh (2017). I bought this book when I attended a writing retreat led by Karen Hering at the Christine Center, Willard, WI, in 2019. Sometimes books just need to percolate on my shelves, but like the Merton book, this seems like the right time. Both The Grace in Aging, Awaken As You Grow Older (2014) and The Grace in Living, Recognize It, Trust It, Abide in It (2016) have become sacred texts in my life, and I was so pleased to find a more recent book. Singh died in 2017. I am reading this slowly, too, and resting in her wisdom.
Awakening the Creative Spirit, Bringing the Arts to Spiritual Direction by Christine Valters Paintner and Betsey Beckman (2010). You may recognize Paintner as the abbess for Abbey of the Arts. https://abbeyofthearts.com Beckman is a dancer and a practitioner of dance therapy. Over the years I have read many books by Paintner and have been privileged to be a guest writer in her weekly newsletter. I decided to dip into this book right now for a couple reasons. First, I think it may inspire some prompts for the weekly writing group I facilitate, but second, I am feeling a bit dry creatively myself, and I expect I will find inspiration on these pages. I’ll let you know.
Getting to the Truth, The Craft and Practice of Nonfiction from the editors of Hippocampus Magazine (2021). I almost added this to my discard pile after I decided to set aside any further work on my spiritual memoir, but some of the essay titles intrigue me, like “Why You Should Write About What You Don’t Remember” by Wendy Fontaine and “One-Moment Memoir” by Jenna McGuiggan. I don’t promise to read every essay nor do I imagine doing the exercises, but I intend to read this more as a contemplative reflection on next steps in my own writing. Again, I’ll let you know.
Off the meditation cushion, aka my Girlfriend Chair, I continue to read good fiction. I’ll give the June Book Report on Thursday, June 30.
An Invitation
What are you reading that you hope will inspire you or will lead you into deeper reflection? I would love to know.
This is what summer looks like in our backyard, thanks to the resident gardener in our house.
Each time I walk from the backdoor to the garage or look out the kitchen window or sit, book in hand, on the patio, I am reminded to savor this season and to notice the gifts of God in these days and in our lives.
If you are an ongoing reader of this blog, you know that I am not a summer person. I am a winter person who relishes hibernation and cave time. I meet God in the stillness, the quiet, the dark that arrives early in the afternoon and leaves late in the morning. In stews and soups simmering in my small kitchen, in sweaters and shawls and cozy throws thrown over my legs. Winter feeds my introverted soul.
My Summer Story
Because my father worked for a large corporation and was transferred and promoted often, summer began when a moving van pulled up in front of our house, usually as soon as the school year ended. For me, summer was a time of loss, leaving my friends and all that was familiar and known. Instead of a time of fun and freedom, summer was a time of loneliness. I yearned for school to begin in the fall where I could meet kids my own age and find a place for myself in new classrooms. But I also felt anxiety during those summer months. Would I like my new school? Would I make new friends?
In my adult years I’ve reframed that loneliness into solitude, and I wrap my spiritual practices in silence and stillness. I realize, however, that I still carry with me the stigma of those empty summer days of my childhood.
Leave them behind, I remind myself, but also learn from them. What can summer mean for me now?
Now is the time, I tell myself, to open to the invitations of this season–to live beyond the irritation of mosquitos and sweat and frizzy hair and nonexistent breezes.
Now is the time to both create and respond to the rhythm of this summer.
Opening to this Summer
As always I begin in silence. Sitting in my comfortable chair in the garret, I close my eyes lightly, not tightly, and take a couple deep cleansing breaths, finding my own rhythm. I allow questions to emerge:
How am I as I enter this summer season?
What do I need now? Do I need rest? Change of place, of pace? Inspiration? Connection? What is the call of this summer? What is possible this summer?
How can this summer season meet my needs? How can I invite God to be with me during this time?
Is there a spiritual practice calling me or a new way of becoming present to something I currently do in my life?
What have I learned during the winter and spring months that will enhance these summer months? What do I bring with me from those recent seasons? What is unfinished? What do I need to put down?
I open my journal and jot down a few words–“spaciousness,” for example, but I make no attempt to answer all these questions in one sitting. I know some questions will answer themselves as I move through the days, and others will emerge, but in the silence I become more aware of who I am and how and to what God calls me at this time.
Summer Spaciousness
Instead of that summer loneliness I experienced as a child, I relish these open days. Days that unfold. Spacious days offering time to read, to doze, to celebrate the glories of the June color blast garden.
When our children were young, we made summer lists –things we wanted to do and places we wanted to go–but now we mention in passing trips we could take or things we could do, but neither of us seems to be making the arrangements or plans. We are both content right here, right now.
Instead of a hummingbird who is in constant motion, vibration that delights, I am more like our big old dog, Boe, who lived with us at Sweetwater Farm. He was content no matter where he was. Stretched out under the harvest table, he opened one eye as I passed through from my office to the kitchen, and maybe he thumped his tail greeting me, but otherwise he didn’t move.
These days seem to stretch out before me, and I feel the twists and turns of life untangle. No, those twists and turns don’t quite disappear, but they feel more manageable, more breathable in the slightest of summer breezes.
Summer Themes
The arrival of summer solstice can be an invitation to notice the unfolding and opening of summer days in your life. Do any of the following summer themes resonate with you? Do any of them open memories of past summers? Which of these summer themes shimmer and tickle and lift an “ah” to your lips? Pay attention. God is moving in your summer days.
Summer Spontaneity
Summer Senses
Summer Spaciousness
Summer Simplicity
Summer Shifts
Summer Sacred Space
Summer Silliness
Summer Stillness
Summer Stretching
Summer Celebrations
Summer Support
Summer Sadness
Summer Sweetness
Summer Spiritual Practices
Is a new spiritual practice beckoning you? Or is summer a chance to adapt your ongoing spiritual practice in a new way? For example, moving your prayer and meditation time outside. Here are some possibilities:
Keep a summer journal. Pilgrims carried a small book with them a vade mecum, which means “go with me.” In the journal they wrote prayers, poems, and wisdom for the journey, but it would also be a way to record what you notice and learn and feel as you wander and roam. Where do you notice the movement of God?
Practice visio divina (sacred seeing), which is similar to lectio divina (holy reading). This practice invites you to see with the eyes of the heart and to pay attention to what shimmers, what invites you, what startles or amazes you. Where do you discover outdoor “chapels”? Perhaps commit to taking one photo a day and at the end of the summer print your photos. Do you notice any patterns? Where did God appear for you?
Other practices include extending hospitality to guests, gardening, walking outdoor labyrinths, spending time in nature, stargazing, pausing to send blessings out into the world as you open windows, volunteering in some new way in the community, trying something new that challenges you. Change your routine in some way and notice what that opens for you.
How about inviting a loved one to a practice of sharing daily with each other one gift, one expression of God, noticed or experienced?
I invite you and I invite myself to open to summer.
A Blessing
May the God of summer give us beauty.
May the God of summer give us rest.
May the God of summer give us joy.
May the God of summer give us inner light.
May the God of summer gives us what we need for healing.
May the God of summer give us a sense of satisfaction in the work of our hands.
May the God of summer lead us to amazing discoveries as we travel the inner roads of our soul.
Amen.
adapted from Joyce Rupp
An Invitation
What intentions do you have for this summer? I would love to know.
Out of the twelve books I read in May, only two were nonfiction, and both of those were memoir: The Pleasure of Their Company (2006) by Doris Grumbach, written as she contemplated her 80th birthday celebration, and A Ghost in the Throat (2020) by Irish poet Doireann Ni Ghriofa. I heard an interview with Ghriofa on NPR and was intrigued, but wasn’t sure if it was a novel or a memoir or a piece of literary criticism about an 18th century Irish poet Eibhin Dubh Ni Chonaill. I conclude it is all three. (The bookseller who sold me the book was quite sure it is a novel, by the way.) Did I love it? No, but I am not sorry I read it, and I appreciate the author’s reflection on the text of women’s lives.
Out of the ten fiction books I read, five were books in the mystery series by Nicci French (a pseudonym for a husband-wife team) featuring the psychoanalyst Frieda Klein as the main character. We also listened to the audio book of one of the titles on our road trip to Montana. I have finished the series and am glad I read them one after another for there is an ongoing thread in each of the books that might be hard to follow if read out of order or one without the rest. I won’t say more.
Take My Hand by Dolan Perkins-Valdez, a new novel (2022), which is getting quite a bit of attention. The topic, which is sterilization of black women/girls without informed consent, is an important one, and the story told is chilling and appalling. The main character is a young Black woman, a nurse from a well-to-do family. Set in the 1970’s in Montgomery, Alabama, She works at a family planning clinic and becomes involved with a family in which two young girls are sterilized. That eventually leads to a major law case. One of the themes especially well-developed was the assumptions made about how, when, and what kinds of care and involvement to give.
Matrix by Lauren Groff (2021). What a good book group selection this would be, but don’t judge it by the book flap summary, which says nothing!!!! The book has been reviewed widely because of the author’s previous successes, including Fates and Furies (2015) and Florida (2018), or I would have had no idea what to expect. Also, a male friend informed me there are no men in the book. NO MEN! I didn’t miss them. The book is set in the 1100s in what became England and is based on a real person. Marie was sent to an abbey where she has visions of the Virgin Mary and transforms the abbey from poverty to riches and power.
The Gown by Jennifer Robson (2019). A good vacation read. The story is based on the designing and creating of Queen Elizabeth’s wedding dress, and the main characters are two of the gown’s embroiderers. One of them is a Jewish refugee from France. Part of the story is set later in Canada when a granddaughter wants to learn more about her family history.
Jubilee by Margaret Walker (1966). Based on her great-grandmother’s life, the novel, written over 30 years, was in response to “Nostalgia” fiction about antebellum and Reconstruction South. The main character, Vygry, who looks and is often mistaken as white, works in the Big House of her father, the master of the plantation. The plot moves from preCivil War through the war and to the years after the war. At times the book reads like a well-written text book, and I learned a great deal, but mainly the rich writing and the wrenching story of the characters’ desire for freedom kept me reading.
An Invitation
As always, I am interested in what you have been reading. What do you recommend? I would love to know.
BONUS NOTE:
My husband has been painting and decorating discarded furniture all winter, and the garage is full to the brim. Come view and buy examples of creative talents at his garage sale, Thursday through Saturday, June 2-4 from 8:00 am – 4:00 pm. 2025 Wellesley Ave, St Paul. Access the garage through the alley ONLY. Proceeds support Lutheran Social Services for homeless youth. Wear a mask, please.
I have grieved the loss of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.
I have grieved the loss of friends who died far too young and hospice patients with whom I sat at the end of their lives.
I have grieved the impending loss of others who are facing serious health concerns.
I have grieved the loss of so many in our country killed unjustly. Murdered.
I have grieved roads not taken.
I have grieved unwelcome changes.
Grief is not an unknown in my life, and I know it is not unfamiliar to you, either.
But this…
Years ago in a class on spiritual practices I taught, the participants made their own string of prayer beads. I have used mine occasionally since then, but not regularly. Now seemed like the right time.
Sitting in silence, I fingered the beads; each one a symbol for one of the children slaughtered and their beloved teachers. My string of beads were not long enough and I returned to the beginning again and again, holding the loss of all those who loved them. I wish I could say I felt calmer as my fingers moved from bead to bead, but that was not the case. Instead, I felt the pain more deeply.
I think I am to feel that pain sear through my body, for only then can change begin to take shape.
I don’t know what kind of action that means for me, other than making donations to worthwhile organizations, but in the meantime I sit with the beads; the beads that leave an impression on my fingertips.
Part Two
I gave the weekly writing group I facilitate at church the following prompt:
Write what is on your heart. Write your tears, your rage, your fears. Write what is at the bottom of your heart, and write what is touching your heart. Write your prayers. Write your lament. Write as a mother. Write.
During the sharing/listening time, one of the participants, who gave me permission to share the following, said her adult daughter had asked her, “What did you worry about when we were growing up?” She admitted she had to think about her answer. She thought she had probably worried about her children getting good grades and using good manners and living with a love of God and family.
I am not a huge worrier, but I suspect I worried about our children doing well in school and having good friends and making good decisions about difficult choices.
Not once did I worry about our children being murdered at school. That never occurred to me.
Part Three
Does anyone else see the irony, the inconsistency with the NRA forbidding the presence of weapons at their convention in Texas this past weekend, but at the same time they think providing teachers with weapons in the classroom is the answer?
Part Four
Pray AND…
You decide what that means; what action you can perform. Begin with prayer and then…
An Invitation
So many wise and important words and reflections have been offered in recent days, and I am grateful for how they have helped me sit with what we have created and allowed to happen in this country. I wonder what has been meaningful to you these past days and now where the wisdom gained will lead you. I would love to know.
Living on Life's Labyrinth 