Of memories and old friends

            The woods around Unity Village are so different now!  Wind has taken down almost all the leaves, and the brownish-greys and tans and purples deepen against the copper colors of the forest floor. I surprised a large white-tailed buck yesterday, or should I say we surprised each other; the wind was strong, and I took the rustle of his careful steps to be just another squirrel scavenging in the leaves. We both jumped when we saw each other. He was the same grey-brown of the tree barks, and melted in perfectly.

            The big surprise to me, though, are the Daddy Long-legs, lots of them, picking their way along the gravel paths and among the leaves, their incredible two-inch front legs poking and feeling their way in front of them like a blind man’s cane. I wonder if they see at all, and what they are doing. They aren’t acting like they’re hunting; they just seem to be evaluating a trail amongst the litter, and a snail could outpace them. What happens when it snows? Do they hibernate, or are they simply using their last days to wander aimlessly amongst the woody debris, their internal clock slowly winding down?

                  This has been an exciting time for me. The volume of writing required for these classes is incredible – nine papers this semester, a total of 92 pages on various subjects. I’m not quite halfway through.

           And with this outpouring, welcome personal changes, too. For instance, I came to realize that I didn’t remember much about my childhood; a period of abuse in my young adulthood had sealed off my memories, particularly of my early years, which my abuser vilified. I had left him, even genuinely forgiven him, but had little idea of the extent of the damage that remained. So, thanks to this wonderful thing called the Internet, I was able to email my childhood friends and ask them what I was like back then. Their kind answers and support touched off a flood of memories, and more come each day. I feel more centered, more integrated than I have in the last forty years! There is real joy there. A lot is still a surprise, but I’m feeling very whole, very healthy.

            Among others, I connected with the image of my Godfather, a kind but stern man who was more my father than my biological one. I wish I could tell him I loved him, but he is long gone. I know he loved me, although he never said anything either. But in addition to church, he taught me the slide rule (I still use it), did science fair projects with me, engineered a couple of evenings showing us the stars through a friend’s telescope, and even had his lab assistant escort me to the Senior Prom when my boyfriend suddenly became unavailable. I married one man who looked just like him, and may be marrying another who shares the same fine-boned build – and is a scientist as well. The memories are precious, and they have now found their rightful place in my heart.

            This has been a wonderful few months. I have had the privacy I need to churn through both the changes and the work, and now I will return home to my beloved mountains to take the next quarter online, and be with Larry. Council has approved our sawmill site, but fortunately the snow will keep us from having to start immediately, since I’ll be glued to the computer and won't be able to do that much. The end of March will find me back in Missouri for Spring Term.

            Life is good!

God's Hands and Feet

Jasper National Park

            Its amazing to me how the little events of life can reflect on the huge movement of Purpose through our lives. Last weekend was a case in point: I’m not known for being early anywhere, but this particular morning I left in plenty of time for my 9 am eye appointment…however, my GPS had been stolen out of my car a few days prior, and I didn’t know the area as well as I thought, so I was halfway to Wichita before I realized I had missed my exit. On top of that, I realized as I leapt out of the car that I had left my purse at home.

What was going on here? I’m usually not such a ditz. A bit late now and then, true, but not a ditz. This time, though, I realized I was never intended to make that 9am appointment.  Certainly, there was no way of talking the nurse into letting me have the exam anyway. Frustrated, I turned to leave. 

A young boy and his mother came out of the exam room. One of his eyes was red and slightly swollen. “I’m so glad you had time to see us,” said the mother. “Don’t worry, “ said the doctor. “He’s going to be just fine.”

            The relief in her voice brought me up short. There seemed to have been been purpose in this chain of events. It may have messed up my day, but my being late had made a space for the doctor to see her son and bring comfort to them both. 

            This isn’t the first time it appears God has used me as hands and feet. I will admit preferring to be asked first, preferably in full knowledge of the cost, and I would rather have a choice as to the answer, but it doesn't always work out that way.  We might think of how events seem to conspire to bring us what we need, but rarely do we notice when we are being an instrument of Spirit in someone else’s life. And is that what’s happening? How much is the random outworkings of the Universe and how much Divine Will? In this instance I choose Divine Plan, or Divine Intervention as the answer, but the question is still open.

            The kind of incident I’m talking about is not like giving comfort to a sick friend, or helping someone in time of need. It is a random happening that brings joy or relief to someone under circumstances outside our direct control.

            Another occasion happened when I was shopping in Safeway. As I stood in front of the whelter of choices at the spice shelf, my eye fell on pumpkin spice. It’s not a seasoning mix I use, but this time I took special note of it, turned, and went on with my search. An older woman came up to me. “Do you know where the pumpkin spice is?” she asked in a querulous voice. “I haven’t been able to find it anywhere.”

            Was I responding to her brain waves projecting need, or being God’s hands and feet to bring her what she wanted? Or was it simply random?  With a smile, I handed her the spice, happy I’d been able to help. Some days I’m not so sure, but that day I believed in the outworking of God’s Divine Intention.

            These are not significant events, but they illustrate the purpose we can find in the apparent randomness of life. The same kind of outworking can happen, for instance, in a love affair that ends in sorrow, but allows one partner to rejoin life after the death of a spouse. Was this part of God’s Plan?

            Whether or not we are part of God’s Plan, its appropriate for us to celebrate these occasions! We’re returning to the world some of the blessings we have received. Volunteering to be an angel for someone brings great joy to both the giver and the receiver, but sometimes the best  “angel moments” happen when we’re unawares. Yes, I would prefer to be asked first, but relish these opportunities as well. They are part of the richness of life.

Coming home yet again...

          The fields were bright yellow with huge drifts of goldeneye daisies against the green as I drove out with the UHaul.  They were happy to remind me I can never really leave the mountain.  They are right, of course. And Larry called yesterday just to tell me that it was snowing, too, the first snowfall of the season. I can see in my mind’s eye the beautiful, soft flakes floating down the way snow does, outlining every branch and leaf.  He and the snow remind me, too.  I can never truly leave.

I ache to be there, but this time I ache to be here, too. My fellow explorers on this path greeted me, not with “Welcome back,” but with “Welcome home,” and indeed it has become home as well. Fall is in full swing, with yellows and reds intertwined throughout the meadows. The trails are full of deer, and this evening I saw a huge toad, spotted like one of our Apache trout, scampering out of my way. Its very beautiful. I could do a full meditation just on the yellow tree outside the Inn where we take our meals.

Where did the summer go?  I arrived home in the mountains to a contract in full swing, with twenty young men falling trees in the Wallow burn area; and afterward not just the mop-up of all the back office stuff, but the decision to move forward on a small sawmill project as well, providing we can talk the Tribe into the land to do so. We found providing good employment for these guys a joy, and wanted to keep going.

And that is what I did, right up to the time to throw stuff and cats into the car and leave.  I’ll continue to work for Larry here, as there is so much to be done on the computer and internet, everything from payroll to business plans, and I have the skills to do it. Not always the time – I’m carrying a full load, have nine papers to write and a retreat to do before December 8. In addition, there are an incredible number of extra-curricular things we are supposed to participate in, but I’m finding I’m ducking as many of those as I can simply to get work and school done and get some sleep.

It’s the beginning of a long journey, happy and sad, joyous and melancholy, scholastically demanding and peacefully prayerful. God accompanies me, both from within and at my elbow. Life is good.

Coming home

Dragonfly Pond

A raccoon family marauded the pots on our porch at the Village last night, dumping them over and pulling the plants out. I rattled at them from my upper window, but they just looked up at me, little masked faces in the dim porch light, so this morning my roommate and I repotted and swept up debris. Little buggers are cute, but difficult.

Wildlife is so plentiful here! There’s the previously-mentioned family of woodchucks – curious critters – and a very numerous family of skunks. I enjoy watching them from a distance, as they flow up the steps, checking out every crack, every pebble, their tails held high. A herd of deer was feeding on the golf course a couple of evenings ago, with them a little fawn that still had its spots. Judy’s birdfeeder attracts flickers, sparrows, nuthatches, chickadees, cardinals, and a titmouse. Now a squirrel has climbed up to our second-floor window, his claws skittering on the glass. I think he is trying to figure out how to reach the bird feeder. He’ll succeed, they always do.

I’m in love with the dragonflies and ebony jeweled damselflies as well. The black damselflies flutter gently through the undergrowth near streams, one sex brilliantly jeweled green on black, the other a drabber black with white dots on his (her?) wings. The damselflies turn to face me if they notice I’m there, which doesn’t make for great photos, but I’ll keep trying. 

Dragonflies are very shy, too. I think this one’s a 12-Spot, but I’ve seen many others, including a Widow, and my favorite, something called a White Tail, which looks like its sporting semaphore signals when it flies. We have them at home, too. Gonna take a longer lens than mine to catch good shots of those!

I leave today for the White Mountains, a blessed week in cooler temperatures and lower humidity - and my partner, Larry. I’m eager to be home, be held. I want to touch base again with an essential part of me there. God is everywhere, but speaks to me loudest from the pines and the meadows, yet I don’t live just in them, but here as well. I have made the transition, and don’t feel pulled apart any more, at least for now. 

Thank you, God.

Arriving in Missouri

Blackberries from the trail

Today I arrived in Missouri, two weeks after my body landed. The woods are busy with unknown life that calls them home, but this day I’m not a guest. Perhaps it was the storm last night, perhaps the lease I signed, perhaps the finding of new friends and solitude. I go back to the mountains soon, but not to stay, at least not yet. Missouri has me.

My writing class reflects this centering as well. I have seen real possibilities and learned that there is craft to consider as well. For a while I was confused about blending craft and inspiration, leaned on craft…and lost my voice. Now the voice is back, I think, but better trained, a balance that will bob and weave as I continue. Having weathered similar steps in painting, its not an unfamiliar path, and I’m eager for the journey.

There are lots of challenges ahead:  time to write, many avenues to chase. My little short story is a chapter in a larger novel. I have a book laid out on personal changes that needs attention from this new perspective, and articles and assignments to write, concurrent with going to seminary, not an easy process in itself.

I’d love to write a book, with photos and sound, on the wildlife here in the woods.  Perhaps my western perspective helps; I find the rich variety new and strange, the sounds engaging. The bird calls here are unknown in the west, save for the robins and mockingbirds.  For instance, I’m still trying to identify a bird that sings “Ce-dar, ce-dar, ce-dar, quik, quik, quik, quik.” It’s a distinctly different sound from the energetic cardinal and mockingbird concerts. The bird is shy, hides in the treetops, and falls silent if I move. I’ve never seen it.

Perhaps that is indicative of where I am as well. I am pursuing something I cannot quite see, but the music calls from deep within my being.  Magic fills the air. 

Village Evenings

  

          I have been sitting out in the long twilight here at Unity Village, watching the fireflies and a cat-sized rodent who I understand is the local woodchuck (looks like a cross between a prairie dog and a beaver, with more on the beaver side.) The weather has been muggy and warm, though not as warm as tomorrow will be. My room, gratefully borrowed from a dear friend for a couple of weeks, is cool with the air conditioner, but small enough that sanity requires a brief stroll now and then to clear the cobwebs.

            Its been a good time, even this first week. I’ve settled in, paid my Unity bill, started my writing class with a teacher whose books are favorites of mine. What a joy! I’ve looked at various types of housing for the fall and sent off resumes’ for jobs. I even walked over three miles this morning, although I didn’t intend it to be that far, and my arthritic hip and knee aren’t happy about it. 

            It was a beautiful walk, along the upper meadow, through the woods, and along the lake – I saw many different trees and flowers strange to these western eyes. There are bluebirds, tons of robins, deer, and frogs as well. Those I know. I can hear many unknown bird calls, too, with only the robins and the chickadees as familiar notes. The cicada’s are beginning to come out, and in later weeks will be deafening in volume. Not yet, thankfully. There is even an exquisite black-winged damselfly that hangs out around the creek that runs through Unity Village: very lovely, very fragile-looking, black wings with white dots on the end. I wanted to photograph everything and write a book, “Wildlife at Unity.” So much of Unity is these woods, lakes, and meadows…

            But as I sit here tonight in the apricot haze of a Missouri sunset, I can’t help thinking about how I have come to be here. From the time of my calling to ministry to this day, I haven’t changed course; instead, I have opened up wide to meet an unknown future. It has been a fact of my life, this coming; unavoidable, unmovable, and surprising...not easy, and I certainly wasn’t very patient with many parts of the process, but I’m here, and my inner being acknowledges this reality.  My heart and spirit may be in my White Mountain home, but a part of me claims the Village as its bedrock, even with my passion for the west.

            Through this process, I have changed, more than at any other point in my life. Opening up to others; indeed, opening up to life has been part of it, exposing the conflicting pushes and pulls of my inner being. Expansive yet still shy, warm and loving yet still solitary, gregarious on the one hand and a hermit on the other; intellectually curious, poking at ideas and submitting them to my own inner truth-sense, yet still wrapping them with intense feeling, allowing their ability to carry whatever they claim to resonate within me or fail in the process. There’s a lot going on in my interior, and I’m grateful for the solitude to let it work itself out.

            I miss my home and my partner, yet I need the Village. I need this space, this place.

            And so it is.

Praying up a brave new world

That's me on an 85 ft. pine that had come to the end of its 130 years...and my smile of pure relief. 

            As the entire country is aware, we’ve had a massive fire at our doorstep for the past week. The Bear Wallow fire was one of Arizona’s largest, currently at 389,000 acres, but containment is on its way, and incredible efforts by amazing people are limiting the impacts on everyone.

            At home here, we’ve been spared the smoke and ash, and much of the fire danger, since the prevailing winds are taking it away from us. Everyone has been putting in extra prayer time since the beginning of the Wallow fire. Larry and I are immensely grateful that we have had the time to rake, scrape, burn, and even fell a couple of dead trees. It has been an exhausting, accomplishful, holy time.

            I can remember praying from my earliest childhood. In the beginning, it was the Lord’s Prayer. When I became a teenager, it included specific images of what each phrase in the Lord's Prayer meant, and plenty of asking for that special boyfriend, success in school, or my zits to go away. I believed in that kind of prayer

            As an adult, though, I began to have problems with traditional prayer, especially those prayers that focused on trying to create things that never happened – or prayers whose success was predicated on my being good, and Jesus dying for my sins. Why didn’t God answer my prayers? Either God was deaf or I was doing something terribly, terribly wrong! After all that pleading for my heart’s desire, even I knew there had to be a better way. 

            Where I found answers was in nature. Sitting on the edge of the lake, looking up at the night sky, and layer upon layers of stars reaching back to the beginning of time, I experienced a different kind of prayer, an outpouring of yearning and awe without words, a delicious and silent celebration of my being part of that immense magnificence.  It changed me forever.

            Now I do less asking and more listening. “Your father knows what you need before you ask.” (Matthew 6:8). This powerful statement is repeated in many ways throughout the New Testament, yet we have been brought up to believe that God somehow doesn’t work that way. But think about it:  Can a God who is ALL, who is everywhere, including within me as my essential nature, not know my intent, even if in the stress of the moment, my end of the conversation certainly indicates the Divine needs some clues?

            So if we aren’t asking for something, especially when we feel we need it, how do we pray?  And why, if God already knows our needs?  One answer is that we pray to discover within ourselves the answers God has already given us.

            I find I do less asking and more listening these days. One method of listening that I use is through meditation. I love meditation. My favorite form of prayer is from within meditation. I find I need to shuck off the world so that I can plumb the quiet depths of my soul and reach that God-spirit within me. Meditation helps me reaffirm my connection with God and listen from within my deepest self for God’s answers.

            Prayer within a meditation practice can be very powerful, and very different from the type of prayer we use to convince a reluctant God to do something for us.  Meditation allows, listens. Prayer is our end of the conversation. The combination of the two is our opportunity to acknowledge the great gifts we have been given, in the knowledge that they are truly already there, present in this abundant universe, even if we don’t see them yet. Its our way of offering loving support to the other beings in this Universe as well.           

            These days I reach for something more than asking in prayer. My list is gone (well, mostly). Instead, I focus on listening for what God has to say.

            However we pray, focusing on positive prayer directs the meanings behind our thoughts. If we are consumed with preventing disasters, curing illnesses, or correcting wrongs, especially in others, we are focused on those very pitfalls and problems! And, yes, the Universe will respond. But a positive approach, one that takes into account that God is already here, working on our behalf, allows the Universe – and us – to bring them to fruition. The intention to affirm what already exists, even when we can’t see the results yet, is a powerful tool for prayer.

            In the end, there is really no bad way of praying. There are more effective ways, and perhaps less effective ones. I’m firmly convinced that God gets our meaning in our hearts more than our words.

            And so I give thanks that the Wallow fire is contained, that there are many blessings, realized now and coming to those affected by the fire; that we have such splendid firefighters; and that many lives have been spared. I am grateful for the Divine Order of this Universe, and for the gifts of this experience.

“Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you have sent me.”  John 11:41-42.