Book Report: Graceland At Last, Notes on Hope and Heartache From the American South by Margaret Renkl

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March 7, 2024

There is something so satisfying about reading all the books written by an author, but at the same time it can leave the reader yearning for another one and hoping there will, in fact, be another one.

The first book I read this year was Margaret Renkl’s most recent book, The Comfort of Crows, A Backyard Year, and I loved it. Wondrous, lovely prose and gorgeous illustrations by her artist brother. (See my review, https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/3083) In 2022 I read her first book, Late Migrations, A Natural History of Love and Loss, which also is illustrated by Billy Renkl. In that book of essays, her preferred style, she moves back and forth between essays observing nature mainly in Alabama and Tennessee and essays about her family. Sometimes the essay is a list, such as “Things I Didn’t Know When I Was Six.”

Graceland At Last, Notes on Hope and Heartache From the American South is Renkl’s second book and is a collection of 60 essays published in the New York Times in the years 2017-2020, and yes, this brought forth many memories and realities from those years: Trump, COVID, climate change, and more. Issues that continue to plague us. Renkl lives in Nashville and grew up in Alabama.(I wonder what she would say about the recent Alabama Supreme Court ruling about embryos. I think I know, but I would value reading her words, for her writing is always clear.) and I appreciate the perspective she gives about an area of the country somewhat foreign to this Midwestern woman.

The book is divided into six sections: Flora and Fauna, Politics and Religion, Social Justice, Environment, Family and Community, Arts and Culture. The best way to explain the scope of her writing, as well as her writing style is to share some quotations:

Bald eagles typically mate for life, and each pair frequently uses the same nest again and again, adding a new layer of branches and sticks each year. A bald eagle nest can weigh more than two tons. From a distance, it looks as though someone has hauled a Ford Explorer into the sky and lodged it in the fork of a tree.

“The Eagles of Reelfoot Lake, (February 28, 2019), p. 22

Partly this divide comes down to scale: you can love a human being and still fear the group that person belongs to. A friend of mine recently joined a continuing-ed class made up about equally of native-born Americans and immigrants. The two groups integrate seamlessly, joking around like any co-workers, but the day after the election my friend said, “I think half my class might ‘ve just voted to deport the other half.”


“The Passion of Southern Christians,” (April 8, 2017), p.83

Changing our relationship to our yards is simple: just don’t spray. Let the wildflowers take root within the grass. Use an oscillating fan to keep the mosquitoes away. Tug the weeds out of the flower bed with your own hands and feel the benefit of a natural antidepressant at the same time. Trust the natural world to perform its own insect control, and watch the songbirds and the tree frogs and the box turtles and the friendly garter snakes return to their homes among us.

“America’s Killer Lawns,” (May 18, 2020), p. 157.

A condolence letter is a gift to the recipient, but it’s a gift to the writer, too. Remembering someone you loved is a way of remembering who you were, a way of linking your own past and present. Even when you love only the survivor–even if you hardly knew, or never met, the mourned beloved–you know something crucial: you know that person had a hand in creating someone you love. A condolence letter confirms the necessity of connection, one human heart to another. It’s a way of saying, “We belong to one another.”

“The Gift of Shared Grief,” (February 4, 2019), p. 211

One of the reasons this book resonated with me was that it recharged memories of the Civil Rights Tour my husband and I and other members of our congregation took the fall of 2018. Renkl writes eloquently about some of the places we visited on the tour. If you read only one essay in this collection, read “Middle Passage to Mass Incarceration,” pp. 129-132.

I checked Renkl’s website to see if another book is forthcoming, and nothing is mentioned. Nancy, give her a break, I tell myself, for Comfort of Crows was only released in 2023. I do not doubt she is observing and reflecting and gardening and writing, however, and when another new book is published, I will read it.

An Invitation

Do you ever read collections of essays? Any recommendations?

Eagle Spirit

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March 5, 2024

Photo Credit: Thor Carlson

Sunday morning as we approached our church we spotted an eagle perched on top of our steeple. Perched doesn’t seem like the right word for a creature as large and as impressive as an eagle. In fact, “perched” sounds precarious, but, actually, the eagle looked quite comfortable. Balanced. Settled.

According to Medicine Cards, The Discovery of Power Through the Ways of Animals by Jamie Sams and David Carson:

Eagle medicine is the power of the Great Spirit, the connection to the Divine. It is the ability to live in the realm of spirit, and yet remain connected and balanced within the realm of Earth. Eagle soars, and is quick to observe expansiveness within the overall pattern of life. From the heights of the clouds, Eagle is close to the Heavens where the Great Spirit dwells.

p. 41

Seeing the eagle who appeared so at home against the backdrop of the clear blue sky, I thought about the importance of the eagle to Native American tribes. Again, Sams and Carson:

Eagle represents a state of grace achieved through hard work, understanding, and a completion of the tests of initiation which result in the taking of one’s personal power.

p. 41

Seeing eagle, I felt my heart lift. I felt beckoned by eagle to soar. I’m not sure what that means in my life right now, and more than likely, there are spiritual tests ahead as I live these elder days, but eagle reminds me to take heart and gather my courage.

So often I write about being grounded–in my faith, in my community, in the ongoing unfolding of my relationship with the Divine–but I also need to stretch, to soar, to expand. To open to the spaciousness of the skies. Again, I am not sure what that means in these elder years. How might I be called to become even more than how I currently think of my being? In what ways does eagle challenge me to become the person I was created to be?

Eagle teaches you to look higher and to touch Grandfather Sun with your heart, to love the shadow as well as the light. See the beauty in both, and you will take flight like the eagle.

Eagle medicine is the gift we give ourselves to remind us of the freedom of the skies.

p. 41

How grateful I am Eagle welcomed us to church Sunday morning.

An Eagle Story or is it a Peter Story?

Several years ago when our grandson Peter was only eight years old (He is now sixteen.) he joined us on a field trip to the National Eagle Center in Wabasha, MN. https://www.nationaleaglecenter.org Now here’s something you need to know about Peter: at a very young age he became a wolf expert. He became a member of the International Wolf Center in Ely, MN. https://wolf.org He read books about wolves, and we visited a wolf sanctuary where he asked knowledgeable questions. He knows all about wolves.

But he also knew a thing or two about eagles.

As we drove from St Paul to Wabasha, Papa started quizzing Peter about eagles. How many kinds of eagles are there? What’s the difference between a bald eagle and a golden eagle? What is the life expectancy of an eagle? What happened to make them almost extinct and now they are everywhere?

Peter tolerated the questions, answering with authority (and accuracy), but all of a sudden he had had it. “Papa, raptors are not my specialty.”

So there.

Oh, and by the way, once at the eagle center he stumped one of the docents with one of his questions. She responded, “I don’t know, but I will find out and let you know.” And she did.

I think Peter has both wolf and eagle spirit.

An Invitation

How do the birds of the air, the creatures of the earth inspire and teach you? I would love to know.

Biographical Notes about Jamie Sams and David Carson

Jamie Sams is a Native American medicine teacher and a member of the Wolf Clan teaching lodge. She is of Iroquois and Cherokee descent and has been trained in Seneca, Mayan, Aztec, and Choctaw medicine. She is the author of Sacred Path Cards, The 13 Original Clan Mothers, and Earth Medicine.

David Carson is of Choctaw descent, grew up in Oklahoma and has lived on Cheyenne, Crow, and Sioux reservations in Montana and Manitoba. He is the author of Lament.

Book Report: February Summary

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February 29, 2024

Fiction: No Disappointments

How is it possible to read eight novels in one month and not be disappointed by any of them? Well, that’s my story this month. I am willing to say, however, that my absolute favorite of the month was Apeirogon (2020) by Colum McCann, which I reviewed in my post on February 22nd. https://wordpress.com/view/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com This is an important book, but you know how sometimes “important books” can feel like a slog. This one DID NOT!

Coming in with a close, photo finish second was The Bell in the Lake (2022) by Norwegian author, Lars Mytting. This book was not on my radar at all, and I am grateful for a friend’s recommendation. Set in a remote area of Norway in the 1880’s, the new pastor, Kai Schweigaard, decides a new, larger and more modern church is needed. The current medieval stave style church — wooden, timber framed– is in bad repair and besides the carvings referencing pagan legends seem inappropriate on a Christian church. The church is sold to historians in Dresden, where the church will be reconstructed, in order to preserve the stave style.

A complicating factor are the bells in the church, which are said to ring on their own at the sign of danger. And danger is on the horizon, including a love triangle: the pastor, Astrid Hekne whose ancestors had the bells cast and donated to the church–and such a story that is– and Gerhard, the artist and architect sent from Dresden to oversee the dismantling of the church. Wonderful book, and I am eager to read The Reindeer Hunters, also by Mytting.

I ended the month on a reading high. More than once while reading The Berry Pickers (2023) by Amanda Peters I felt tears forming. During the annual work trip to Maine from Nova Scotia to pick blueberries, four-year-old Ruthie goes missing. Instead of being taken seriously, clearly because the family is Indian, they are ignored and eventually must return home. The rest of the book is about what happens to Ruthie and also the stories of her family of origin. Heart-wrenching and well-written.

Along with these three I read:

  • We All Want Impossible Things (2022) by Catherine Newman. A hospice novel with hospice humor, along with an exploration of grief and loss. Well-done and not depressing.
  • The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections (2022) by Eva Jurczyk. Even though at times this book felt like some additional editing would be helpful, I thoroughly enjoyed the premise of a missing rare manuscript and the academic setting, and I hope there will be more by this author in the future.
  • Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk (2016) by Kathleen Rooney. I read this book years ago and so enjoyed reading it again. The walk in New York City on New Year’s Eve (1984) is really a life review for Lillian now in her 80’s and such a life she has had–much more than what is on the surface.
  • Wench (2010) by Dolan Perkins-Valdez. You may have read her more recent book, Take My Hand (2022) and I liked that book, although I thought there were some some gaps, some undeveloped pieces. I think Wench, which is the author’s first book, is the better book of the two. Set in pre-Civil War, the slave owners in this story take their slave mistresses to a summer resort in Ohio. The story focuses on these women –what they endure, how they develop, and their attempts to achieve freedom.
  • Banyan Moon (2023) by Thai Thai. A totally absorbing book. Banyan House in Florida is owned by Minh, a Vietnamese woman who immigrated to the Unites States with her daughter. We learn the story of their life in Vietnam, but the main plot line is set in the U.S. When Minh dies, her granddaughter Ann returns to Florida from Michigan where she is engaged to a wealthy white man and professor who says she is “exotic.” Secrets are discovered, and relationships must be healed. Stunning writing, especially for a debut novel.

Nonfiction: Wise Words and One for Fun

First, the fun one, but there was wisdom there, too: Unraveling, What I Learned about Life While Shearing Sheep, Dyeing Wool, and Making the World’s Ugliest Sweater (2023) by Peggy Orenstein. I reviewed this in an earlier post, in which I also told my own sheep story.

I read three books by Esther de Waal.

  • The White Stone The Art of Letting Go (2021). I had read this before, but a spiritual direction client mentioned reading it, and I decided to read it again. A chapter about “diminishment” was especially helpful as I think about these elder years. “I hope that God is going to work within my limitations.” p. 89.
  • To Pause at the Threshold, Reflections on Living on the Border (2001). I read this right before the beginning of Lent, which is one of those border times, and I especially appreciated the chapters, “Connecting Inner and Outer” and “The Time Between Times.”
  • Lost in Wonder, Rediscovering the Spiritual Art of Attentiveness (2003). The book is written as a preparation for going on a retreat, but is applicable to our everyday lives as well. At times I got lost in all the quotes from other spiritual writers and would have preferred more Esther. That is true in each of her books. However, I loved what she says about creating and living in our own cloister space. “But it is vital to see the cloister space in my own self as the pivot around which daily life revolves, the rock or anchor which holds it firmly grounded. This is what Christ meant when he said ‘Go into your room'”. p. 14

Finally, Cacophony of Bones The Circle of a Year (2023) by Kerri ni Dochartaigh. This book is a sequel to Thin Places, A Natural History of Healing and Home (2021), which I read in January. She is pregnant and it is the pandemic. “I am telling you here of a year that was like no other. I am telling you here of a year that was just the same as every other that had gone before.” p.ix. She feels deeply, struggles with depression, doubts herself, but she is a keen observer and creates links missed by most of us, I imagine.

Entering March

I have a stack of books from the library:

  • The Other Mothers by Katherine Faulkner
  • Graceland by Margaret Renkl
  • The View from Penthouse B by Elinor Lipman
  • The Hero of the Book by Elizabeth McCracken
  • Commitment by Mona Simpson

And I have a stack of recently acquired books:

  • The Women by Kristin Hannah
  • The Distance Between Us by Maggie O’Farrell
  • As It Is In Heaven by Niall Williams
  • A Deceptive Devotion by Iona Whishaw (#6 in her mystery series)
  • An Irish Country Girl by Patrick Taylor
  • An Irish Country Courtship by Patrick Taylor

And I continue to read during my morning meditation time:

  • Jesus, Guide of My Life by Joyce Rupp
  • A Different Kind of Fast by Christine Valters Paintner

Happy reading!

One Last Note

On one of our recent roaming days we discovered a wonderful bookstore new to us–in Buffalo, Minnesota. I was especially impressed with their backlist of books. We helped the Buffalo economy! https://buffalo-books.com

And Yet One More Note

If you are new to my blog, you may be interested to know that every Thursday I write about books and every Tuesday I write on spiritual topics–the ordinary and the extraordinary. Thanks for reading and I hope you will decide to subscribe and/or share my posts with others.

An Invitation

What did you read in February? Any gems? I would love to know.

Guiding Words for My Spiritual Practice of Hometending

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February 27, 2024

One Thing Leads to Another

Driving along the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River this past weekend we were entertained by eagles tumbling in the sky as part of their mating ritual. We lost count of the number of hawks perched on bare branches, enjoying the view of open water and dwindling patches of ice. A glorious day for roaming, and this is one of our favorite drives.

One of our favorite stops is Cultural Cloth, a shop that represents the work of artisans from around the world. We don’t always stop there because we know how dangerous and tempting it can be, but the landscape has been so brown and grey this winter, a shot of color would be welcome. (See what I did there!)

We laughed and wished each other “Happy Anniversary” (Our anniversary is in August!) as we carried our latest purchase, a gorgeous rug made in Guatemala, to the car.

We fell in love with the colors of this kilim style rug woven in the Mazir-Sharif regions of Afghanistan. Their rugs are woven from scraps of yarn left over from the production of their pile-woven rugs. And I knew exactly where it would go–in our entryway.

Once home I folded the rug already in the entryway, which we had purchased from Cultural Cloth the last time we were there, and I placed the new rug in front of the door. Lovely. Welcoming and happy.

But then I wondered what it would look like in the living room area on top of the sisal rug–a shot of color. Why not try that?

Perfect! I liked it there even better.

And that’s when my delight in change took over. My impulse to rearrange. And one thing led to another.

How would the more informal looking rattan chairs in the snug look in the living room? But then what would I do with the existing chairs, for they didn’t seem right for the snug? Ah, how about moving the chairs from the garret to the snug? Well, you get the idea. One thing leads to another.

The spiritual practice of hometending reminds me that nothing is static. Nothing stays the same, and being in the present moment leads to the next present moment. I allow myself to imagine how the present moment can look a bit different with just a bit of imagination and an openness to try something else.

One thing leads to another.

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Fulfilling the vision takes work, and in this case it was moving around three sets of chairs and two tables and lamps and pillows and a desk and more. And as long as everything was in turmoil why not clean the ceiling fan in both the snug and the kitchen. Yes, why not? (Thanks, honey!)

That doesn’t happen in one fell swoop, and before the picture could be complete, things definitely looked worse before they got better. I had a vision, true, but I really didn’t know if it would all work in a pleasing way. The unknown remained unknown until most everything was in place.

Spiritual hometending reminds me that we may want to and, in fact, decide to cross a threshold, and we may know why we are doing that and have some idea of what is ahead, but not completely. We can’t see it all. There will be twists and turns on the path ahead, sometimes requiring trust and courage. When facing a decision, my husband and I often pose as part of the discernment process the question, “What’s the worst that can happen?” In this case, if we didn’t like how it turned out, we could move everything back the way it was. A loss of a day and some energy, yes, but nothing life threatening. We decided it was worth the effort.

Shop the House

I raided the pillow closet and opened up cupboards. I piled up books on tables and moved this here and that there. I thought I might need to buy new lamps, but then remembered the lamps in the guest bedroom, and sure enough, they added just the needed touch of color.

Spiritual hometending reminds me that so often, most often, I have what I need, if I am willing to open my eyes and my heart. At the same time I could not have accomplished the new look without the help and the support of my husband. Hometending–and all of life, often means knowing when to ask for help.

And, of course, what I most need to remember is that my inner house is grounded in the love of God, knowing, no matter what, I am beloved by God.

One More Thought

As I thought about words I often say, I remembered some of my parents’ guiding words. My father often said, “Your day will come.” How frustrating that was to hear sometimes, when whatever I wanted to do or have was denied, but I now hear the hope in that and even the joy in that.

My mother often said–just when conversation was becoming interesting–“Now we are just going to have happy talk.” She did not like disagreements or conflict, but now I also hear something else in her statement. Gratitude for what we have, including the love we have for one another. A desire to lift our lives with optimism.

Guiding Words are meant to lead, to open our hearts to possibilities, to offer direction without locking us into only one way of thinking or being. May it be so.

An Invitation

What words guide you? I would love to know.

NOTE: Cultural Cloth is in Maiden Rock, WI. https://culturalcloth.com

Book Report: Apeirogon by Calum McCann

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February 22, 2024

Excuse me if I sound a bit breathless, but I just finished reading Apeirogon by Colum McCann, and it is stunning, superb. I had not heard of this book, which was published in 2020, but then in the last couple months a good friend, who is one of my most reliable book sources, and another someone, whom I can’t recall, mentioned this book. I added it to my TBR list and then during a recent bookstore indulgence, there it was.

First order of business: What is an “apeirogon”? Is it a person, place, or thing? A made-up word?

Apeirogon: a shape with a countably infinite number of sides.

Countably infinite being the simplest form of infinity. Beginning from zero, one can use natural numbers to count on and on, and even though the counting will take forever one can still get to any point in the universe in a finite amount of time.

p. 82

Make sense? No, I don’t really understand it either, except that this book challenged me to open to more possibilities, more sides, more understandings than I could imagine.

Set that aside for the moment.

The story, based on a true story: Bassam Aramin is Palestinian. Rami Elhanan is Israeli. They each lose a daughter to violence. Abir is killed in 2007 by a rubber bullet when she is ten, and Smadar is 13 when she becomes the victim of suicide bombers in 1997. These bereft fathers meet and decide to share their stories, which they do over and over again and all over the world. Their core message, which is repeated multiple times, is “It will not be over until we talk.”

The story is moving, as is the wisdom because of the story.

Rami says:

The first choice is obvious: revenge. When someone kills your daughter, you want to get even. You want to go out and kill an Arab, any Arab, all Arabs, and then you want to try and kill his family and anyone else around him, it’s expected, it’s demanded. Every Arab you see, you want him dead. Of course you don’t always do this in a real sense, but you do this by asking other people to kill this Arab for you, your politicians, your so-called leaders. You ask them to slam a missile into his house, to poison him, to take his land, to steal his water, to arrest his son, to beat him up at the checkpoints. If you kill one of mine, I will kill ten of yours. And the dead one, naturally, has an uncle or a brother or a cousin or a wife who wants to kill you back and then you want to kill them back again, another ten times over. Revenge. It’s the simplest way. And then you get monuments to that revenge, with mourners’ tents, songs, placards on the walls, another riot, another checkpoint, another piece of land stolen. A stone leads to a bullet. And another suicide bomber leads to another air strike. And it goes on and on. And on.

p. 220

Bassam says:

You see the Occupation exists in every aspect of your life, an exhaustion and a bitterness that nobody outside it really understands. It deprives you of tomorrow. It stops you from going to the market, to the hospital, to the beach, to the sea. You can’t walk, you can’t drive, you can’t pick up an olive from your own tree which is on the other side of the barbed wire. You can’t even look up in the sky. They have their planes up there. They own the air above and the ground below. You need a permit to sow your land. Your door is kicked in, your house is taken over, they put their feet on your chairs. Your seven-year-old is picked up and interrogated…Most Israelis don’t even know this happens. It’s not that they’re blind. They just don’t know what is being done in their name…They can’t travel in the West Bank. They have no idea how we are living. But it happens every day. Every single day…

It’s a tragedy that we need to continually prove that we are human beings. Not only to the Israelis, but also for other Arabs, our brothers and sisters, to the Americans, to the Chinese, the Europeans. Why is that? Do I not look human? Do I not bleed man? We are not special. We are a people, just like any other.

pp. 236-237

A Unique Structure

The structure in the book is almost a character itself. The whole of the book is made up of small numbered sections. Some are only a line long and others a page or two. The content of these sections is not only the basic story, but also references to nature and art and philosophy and history and literature and other peoples’ stories–all suggesting the interconnection of everything and everyone. And not once did I feel bored. Not once did I wonder when the “real” story would continue. Did I understand every reference? No, but I was always intrigued.

But here’s how the plot is even more unique. In the first half the book the sections build from #1 to #500. Then there is a section #1001. Only much later does the reader understand the significance of that number. Then the section numbers decrease from #500 to #1. And sometimes a section in one half of the book is related to the same number in the other half of the book. I kept wondering if the author had a huge dry erase board where he kept track of the content. This method did not feel contrived or created for its own sake. Instead, it added to the interconnection of everything and everyone.

This is a novel for our time and one that contributes in a deep and powerful way as a way to understand, if that is possible, the current chaos.

I feel a need to fast before opening another book. I probably won’t do that, for my reading addiction is always present, but I do know this book will preoccupy and even haunt me.

An Invitation

What books have haunted you long after you’ve read them? I would love to know.

Lenten Overload

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February 19, 2024

“Ash Wednesday was almost a week ago and yet, I still don’t feel settled into Lent.”

That’s how my February 28, 2023 post began, and the sentiment expressed there fits me this year, too. https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/1780,

I felt prepared for Lent this year. I really did. After all, I had consulted my list of Lenten meditation books in my personal library and gathered some key ones. In addition I ordered two new books (of course)–Jesus, Guide of My Life, Reflections for the Lenten Journey by Joyce Rupp and A Different Kind of Fast, Feeding Our True Hungers in Lent by Christine Valters Paintner.

I even thought about a specific Lenten practice to note daily in my journal people, places, and things as a way to increase my awareness and become more present. Have I done that yet? Nope. Not really.

Instead, I feel overwhelmed.

My email inbox is full of beautiful and meaningful Lenten reflections –Joan Chittister, Richard Rohr, Nadia Bolz Weber, Diana Butler Bass, Steve Garnaas, Rosemary McMahon, Oasis Ministries, and others. And I am tempted by other new books: Field Notes for the Wilderness by Sarah Bessey, You Are Here: Keywords for Life’s Explorers by David Steindl-Rast, The Eloquence of Silence by Thomas Moore, Beguiled By Beauty, Cultivating a Life of Contemplation and Compassion by Wendy Farley, and Being Here: Prayers for Curiosity, Justice and Love by Padraig O’Tuoma.

Even the New York Times’ Sunday opinion section had an essay about Lent, “What We Give Up Makes Us Who We Are by Molly Worthen.

So many thoughts. So many suggestions.

So much to read.

What to give up? What to add on? So many ways to think about this time of the church year and about this season of my life. So many more items for my To Do list.

Time to back up.

First, I thought about the meaningful Lenten practices of recent years — lightening my physical load. For two years I challenged myself to let go of books in my spirituality and theology library–at least one book each of the 40 days of Lent. How good that felt and how that has become part of my ongoing practice. I no longer need to keep every book that enters the house.

Last year I extended that ‘letting go” to a big stack of magazines I have kept. I paged through each issue, saving some articles or images to perhaps use with the writing group I facilitate. The only complete issues I kept were the ones in which an essay I had written had been published. Do I miss them –not at all?

So is there any other THING that needs decluttering? Ah yes. At the beginning of this year I decided to begin two projects.

  1. To finally go through all our photos–sort, organize, order and even compile some of them into thematic Shutterfly books.
  2. To reread all my journals, beginning with my first one from 1976, and decide what to do with them.

What have I done on those two projects? Well, the above picture is the extent of my work so far. I have gathered the bins of photographs and some of the earliest journals. They are partially hidden behind my comfortable chair in the garret where I can see them from my desk.

They are calling me, beckoning me.

I hunger to respond to them.

I yearn to let go of what is no longer needed.

Ah, my Lenten practice. To enter into these projects with contemplation and reflection. With my heart and soul. To pay attention to the movement of God in my life, as reflected in my inner voice. To approach these projects as more than physical decluttering and clearing of space. Instead, I hope to let go of what clutters my heart and mind.

I recognize these projects will take much longer than the 40 days of Lent, but this is a set-aside time to begin that journey.

To do that, however, I do need to let go of the need to read everything that comes into my inbox or to order all the titles that entice me or even to respond to all the worthy ideas and suggestions about approaches to Lent that come my way. I need to leave my meditation space a little sooner and take that contemplative attitude back into the garret where my projects await.

Finally, I need to be gentle with myself. I am aware that moving into the new year now takes a bit longer, and movement from winter to spring is always challenging for me. Perhaps this slower pace is my new normal.

And I need to remember that my word for the year is enfold/unfold. Lent will enfold me and Lent will unfold.

Stay tuned.

An Invitation

What spiritual practice is calling you? What yearning is beckoning you? I would love to know.

Book Report: Unraveling, What I Learned about Life While Shearing Sheep, Dyeing Wool, and Making the World’s Ugliest Sweater by Peggy Orenstein

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February 15, 2024

Some in my family may argue that I read this book only to have an excuse to share my story about wrestling a sheep. (Do I have your attention?) Well, that may be at least partially true, but I also recognized the author who has written important books about young people in today’s culture, such as Girls & Sex, Boys & Sex, and Don’t Call Me Princess, and I knew I would learn something new and more than likely would appreciate the ride.

We are beginning to see books appear about the pandemic and/or written during the pandemic, and Unraveling by Peggy Orenstein is one of these books. Orenstein is a SLFHM (She learned from her mom.) knitter and during the pandemic she decided to experience the whole process from sheep to sweater. While there were too many details along the way for me, I did enjoy her reactions to each phase of the process. In addition, Orenstein shares her own life with the reader–feelings about a daughter ready to head to college, the ongoing grieving of her mother’s death, and the decline of her father. “I realize I am beginning a shift in my perspective from thinking about old age as a daughter…to reckoning with it for myself.”

As I said, at times all the details, especially since I am not a knitter and in fact, am not a craft kind of person at all, led me to skimming the text, rather than reading carefully. However, I will share one detail. About the color blue. Over the years both Republicans and Democrats tried to claim the color blue probably because “red” seemed related to communism, but in 2000 both USA Today and the New York Times used red for the Republicans (both words–red and Republican start with “r”) and blue for Democrats on the election coverage maps. Voila!

Ok, I promised you my story about wrestling a sheep.

Meet Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.

Once upon a time my husband and I lived at quite a magical place in the countryside outside of Cleveland. The original owner, Asa, was given the land for his service in the Revolutionary War, and in 1997 we became stewards of Sweetwater Farm, following a long line of previous owners. My husband, who worked full-time as a hospice physician and medical director decided having a hobby farm was just what he needed as an antidote to his days of death and dying.

I had always been a city girl, but I admit I fell prey to the charms of our country life. However, as Bruce added animals to the menagerie (llamas, goats, chickens, dog, cats, potbellied pig, donkey, geese named Cyd, Charise, and the sister Clarise, and of course, sheep) I was clear that the care and feeding of such animals was HIS responsibility.

Why was it then that the animals always seemed to escape when he wasn’t around?

One morning, as was my usual routine, I was sitting in my office in the front of the house, which faced the road, reading my devotions and meditating. I was disturbed by cars honking. Unusual. I looked out the window and saw a sheep on the road. One of our sheep.

I knew it had to be Blynken, for she had been sick, and Bruce had isolated her, confining her to the barn where he had piled up bales of hay to create her own healing space. Well, she apparently had recovered, and Bruce apparently had not closed the barn door all the way after feeding her before leaving for work. “Freedom,” thought Blynken.

Fortunately, I was dressed and not still in my pajamas, and I charged out the front door. By that time Blynken was running in the ditch. I headed after her. Now what you need to know about me is that I am not a runner, a sprinter, a pole vaulter. In fact, exercise is never my first or even second choice. I am a reader. But I booked after Blynken and somehow managed to catch up to her. Perhaps I was channeling our son who had played football in high school, but my adrenalin racing, I tackled that bundle of chocolate.

Now what? There I was — in the ditch flat on top of a bleating sheep.

Here’s the God-thing: A woman driving home after working the night shift at the hospital not far from us saw my plight. Blynken and I were hard to miss. She stopped and amazingly, she was driving a stationwagon and even more amazingly, she didn’t just laugh at me, but she jumped into action. She opened up the back of her car and between the two of us we managed to lift that blankety, blank sheep into the car.

I have no memory of our conversation–we were probably too out of breath — as we drove the short distance to our garage where there was an indoor dog pen. A new home for Blynken!

I know I thanked her profusely (and later found out from the hospital who she was–and sent her flowers), but she acted as if the Sheep Olympics were an every day occurrence in her life. I think we won a Gold Medal.

Oh, and best not to repeat the words I had with my beloved husband when he got home.

An Invitation

What have you read lately that reminded you of something that happened in your life? I would love to know.

Approaching Lent With Our Hearts

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February 13, 2024

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.

As a friend pointed out, Lent is integrated into VaLENTine’s Day. Don’t you love it when someone gifts you with a new realization?

On Valentine’s Day we honor the love we have for one another. The special ones in our lives, for sure, but the day can also remind us of the loved ones no longer physically present in our lives. And the legacy of love we can leave beyond our own deaths.

And that brings us to Ash Wednesday when, using ashes, the sign of the cross is made on our foreheads. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. One of my pastors teasingly suggested, instead of a cross, how about a heart? I chuckled, but the connection between the cross and love felt real.

Think about all the scripture passages that include the word “love.” For example, how many weddings have you attended in which the following passage is quoted?

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends.

I Corinthians 13: 4-8

The cross of ashes on my forehead can be a reminder of all those characteristics. Lent can be a time to become even more aware of the role of love in my life and how I might live that life every day. Lent as a time of contemplation invites me to become more aware of the presence of love, God’s love, and when I can be an instrument of love.

Lenten Practices

No surprise–I have chosen a book to companion me during Lent. This year Joyce Rupp’s Jesus , Guide of My Life, Reflections for the Lenten Journey is on the top of my devotional basket. I selected this book, because, well, because the author is Joyce Rupp whom I can trust to stretch me, but always with a sense of lovingkindness. I will also dip into a new book–so new it hasn’t arrived yet–by Christine Valters Paintner, A Different Kind of Fast, Feeding Our True Hungers in Lent.

And I have been preparing for Lent by reading Lost in Wonder, Rediscovering the Spiritual Art of Attentiveness by Esther de Waal. This book reinforces my thoughts about a Lenten daily practice I’ve been considering in which I will note in my journal People, Places, Things as a way of increasing my awareness and becoming more present. De Waal states the purpose of the book is to “awaken us from drift and drowsiness into a fuller and deeper sense of attentiveness to the world around and to the presence of God in that world.” (p. 1) I need that right now. She also stresses the need to balance looking inward and “looking outward beyond the self to the world around.” (p. 2)

One tool she suggests is a magnifying glass as a way to “take time and notice what you see.” I happen to have two small magnifying glasses–where they came from and why I have them, I have no idea–but I think I will carry one in my coat pocket to use when I go for walks. And the other one I will keep at home, not only to examine more closely familiar objects in my everyday life, but also as a tangible reminder to focus, to pay attention, to live with gratitude for the many gifts in my life. Not just what I see, but what enters each of my senses.

I feel ready to begin this Lenten journey, but first I will eat some Valentine chocolate.

An Invitation

Lent, of course, is a season in the Christian life, but a practice of paying attention is an invitation for all. What are you noticing these days? I would love to know.

Book Report: Lillian Boxfish Takes A Walk by Kathleen Rooney

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February 8, 2024

I’m not sure what inspired me to re-read this 2016 book, Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk by Kathleen Rooney, but there it was on my TBR list, and when, during a recent visit to a favorite bookstore, Excelsior Bay Books, Excelsior, MN, I spotted it on the shelves, I couldn’t resist the stunning cover. True, 85 years-old Lillian is described as wearing a mink coat on her New Year’s Eve walk in New York, but still, the artist captured Lillian’s essence.

What didn’t capture the essence of the book, at least for me, were some of the back cover snippets of reviews written when the book was first published. I thought it was amusing, rather than “hilarious” or even “funny.” That is not a bad thing, however. Nor did I resonate with the focus and emphasis in some reviews on New York City presented over time. The view is of Lillian Boxfish’s life with the city as a backdrop. In some books place is clearly one of the main characters, but that didn’t feel true for me in this book, except perhaps for the ongoing reference to her work as an advertising writer for R.H. Macy’s.

I do agree, however, with the reviews describing the book as “elegantly written,” and “touching.” And “witty.”

It is 1984 and Lillian has reservations for herself on New Year’s Eve at a favorite restaurant not far from her apartment. That walk turns into over 10 miles of walking and not always in the best parts of the city. Along the way she meets a variety of people, including Skip who drives a limo and is concerned for her safety (In fact, everyone she meets is worried about an elderly woman walking alone at night.) She dismisses their concern and continues on her way, charming everyone she encounters, including a family who invites her to join them for dinner and three young thugs whose intention is to rob her.

Her story unfolds as she walks–her stellar career, which began in the 1930s, in advertising, eventually becoming the highest paid advertising woman in the country, a published and popular poet, but also the darker sides of her life. I remember the first time I read this book not being prepared for that aspect of her life, but this time I picked up on the clues along the way. And while I am not yet 85, I am more aware as I continue to age that there are dark sides in each of our lives.

The reviews also, rightly so, honor the book for its illumination of the power of human connections.

There is always a danger in re-reading a book that you have enjoyed the first time. Will it live up to those earlier impressions? This one did, and I am glad I spent more time with Lillian.

An Invitation

What have you re-read recently? How did the second time around measure up for you? I would love to know.

Note:

I enjoyed this article on reading lists. https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/2024/01/26/keeping-yearly-reading-lists/?utm_campaign=wp_book_club&utm_medium=email&utm_source=newsletter&wpisrc=nl_books

Ask for What You Need and Offer What You Can

Featured / nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

February 6, 2024

Several times in the past week I have quoted Christina Baldwin‘s simple, but oh so wise words:

Ask for what you need and offer what you can.

from The Seven Whispers, Listening to the Voice of Spirit.

I don’t recall the specific circumstances when I shared those words, but I know when a piece of wisdom is on my lips that it is meant not only for the person receiving it, but it is for me, too! Probably most strikingly for me.

Offer What You Can

Recently, I received two emails about ways I have volunteered in the past at my church. One was fixing and bringing a meal to individuals and families during times of stress or need, and the other was about being part of the hospitality team, serving at receptions etc. Did I want to continue participating in those ways?

I didn’t respond immediately, but instead I considered both of those ongoing opportunities during the next couple morning meditation times. In the meantime a request addressed to the whole congregation came, asking for helpers during the potluck before the annual meeting. Also, the weekly newsletter, as always, listed a wide variety of ways volunteers are needed in the church and in the larger community.

Oh, how tempting it is to spontaneously say, “I can do that.” And sometimes that is exactly the right thing to do. Sometimes that is the most genuine of responses. An expression of being in the present moment.

But as I age I am more aware of what makes most sense for who I am now. What are the ways I am called to use my energy, my time, my gifts? How does saying “yes,” affect other “yeses” in my life? The answer isn’t always clear, but what I am learning is that I need to honor the main ways I have committed to serve; the ways I feel I can best serve right now. Writing posts for this blog twice a week is one way, but also meeting with my spiritual direction clients and preparing for and facilitating the writing group I lead at church.

I don’t list these activities in a “look at me” way, but rather to remind myself of the importance of knowing what I can offer, how I can live my essence and in what ways I continue to discover the person God created me to be. These ways may change, probably will change, as I grow older, which reminds me of what Esther De Waal says in the chapter, “Diminishment” in her book The White Stone, The Art of Letting Go, “I hope that God is going to work within my limitations.” p. 89.

How did I respond to the various requests? I decided to step away from the two specific queries, thanking the people who lead those efforts. I didn’t I step up to help with the potluck either, but perhaps my “not this time,” left space open for someone else to say, “Yes I can do that.” Just a thought. 

My plan and hope is to continue to exercise “sacred yes, sacred no;” to practice discernment as opportunities arise.

And finally, this must be said. I am aware more and more every day of the need to create spaciousness for time with family and friends.

Ask for What You Need

Well, I don’t know about you, but this is harder for me. Asking for what I need feels riskier. The notion of asking for what I need feels like I am declaring my inadequacy and vulnerability. EEEK! Baldwin says that asking for what we need is as much a spiritual practice as offering what you can. Asking for what we need is a way to pay attention, to be aware of the changes in our lives, and, in fact, it is part of becoming the person we were created to be. I often ask myself, “What is possible right now?” and sometimes the answer means asking for someone else and their gifts and time and energy to enter my life.

Baldwin says asking for what we need and offering what we can is a form of “spiritual trading” and that spiritual trading “creates flow.”

As long as the energy is flowing and cyclical, there is enough to go around. If any one of us stops asking or stops offering, the flow is disrupted and the balance destroyed.

p. 71

Be brave enough to ask fir help when you need it. There is no merit badge for Doing All the Hard Things Alone. Reach out.

Maggie Smith

An Invitation

How are Christina Baldwin’s words, “ask for what you need and offer what you can” showing up in your life right now? I would love to know.

Thanks!

Thanks for all your kind words about my recent guest essay, “Living with a Sacred Object, The Humble Harvest Table,” in Christine Valters Paintner’s Abbey of the Arts. If you haven’t yet read it or would like to share it, here is the link. https://abbeyofthearts.com/blog/2024/01/24/monk-in-the-world-guest-post-nancy-l-agneberg-4/