Journey with the wise men

Today I’m going to St. Leo’s for a half day retreat with my friend Sherry. I’ve just finished choosing and printing the lectio reading. I chose the official Advent reading for today, Matt. 2:9-12. It’s the part about the 3 wise men following the star. I like the context—the guys following and noting when the star “came to rest over the place where the child was.” They were finally there, and “they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.”  Maybe they were smiling (singing?) and back clapping as they went “into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother.” These wise men weren’t confused at all by a baby in regular swaddling clothes in the arms of a simple country girl, “they fell down and worshiped him…offered him gifts…” And after such a long, hard journey, I bet they didn’t just hop back up on their camels after one night. I bet they hung out together for a while, Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and 3 wise men, eating together, telling stories, taking turns holding the baby. When they felt rested, they slept once more and dreamed don’t return to Herod. Joseph was a wise man too and he had some pretty valuable dream experience, so perhaps they all discussed their dreams. Finally, the 3 men “departed to their own country.”  

 

And what happened after they got back? Was there a lot of drama and hype about the journey? “It was astonishing! Let me tell you…”  Well, there may have been some of that, but I don’t think it dominated.  My guess is because of their openness to encounters with the mystery of God’s presence in all that wisdom, joy, worship, and gift offering, space was created for more grace in their lives. Perhaps that grace simply enabled them to be kinder, gentler, less pushy persons, perhaps with more patience for those closest to them.  Perhaps as we continue the journey together it can be that way for us, too.

Charlie's gift

Celebrating the end of the semester, Rickey and I went to St. Pete Beach for three days and two nights. The first morning I took a walk I slipped a timer into my pocket and headed off in the half light before sunrise. My plan was to find a quiet spot on the beach to do my centering prayer. The beach was mostly deserted, which I loved. The air had a tangy bite, which I also loved. The breeze whipped at my sweatshirt, and although I shivered a bit, I didn't really mind. I decided I'd keep walking to stay warm and later I'd look for a spot to pray. Later turned into an hour, and I was still walking. As the sun rose people joined me, and I finally realized I needed to stop shortly, or I'd miss a private opportunity. I spotted a small bench and headed toward it.

For Charlie Kabbash's birthday in memory of Julia and Najib Kabbash. "Look at what I gave you!"  read the small plaque attached to the heavy resin-concrete bench I'd found nestled on the edge of a sand dune.  I looked at the simple solid slats and smiled at the thoughtful, creative gift. Then I settled comfortably in place. Whoa! It was one thing to stand facing the bench admiring the structure and the message, but it was quite another thing to experience the meaning. There I sat looking at the wide expanse of the Gulf. With the sun gradually inching up behind me, I watched the waves roll and sparkle gloriously. I watched gulls soar and dip so at ease in their belonging. I watched clouds gather in thick, puffy white patches. Then I closed my eyes to center. Twenty minutes later my timer's gentle "bing" calls me back, and I open my eyes to the waves, to the birds, to the clouds, to the bench and to Charlie's real gift--a place to be present, a space to breathe, a way in to being transformed by love. 

Easter Reflection

I am in Niceville having a bit of a retreat. Of course, the real point of my visit is to cover caring for Rickey's mom as his sister takes a break. She and her husband are in Ohio visiting their kids and grand-kids for Easter. I'm staying in their house while they are away. It's a lovely home, right on a tiny finger of water that empties into a bayou then a bay then the Gulf of Mexico.  It is full of light and deep quiet. My favorite spot is sitting in the small rocker by a large window overlooking the backyard and water. I put my coffee cup on the sill as I watch the sun dancing on the leaves and the birds flying or floating or fishing. I also like doing my centering prayer in the same space. I've done this care-giving visit before, and I'm happy doing it again. Although Rickey's mom's mind is drifting away from us, her tender spirit remains happy and grateful.

Because conversations are so limited, I have a lot of time for reflection.  Knowing I would be missing some of the community aspects of observing Holy Week, I've come up with new ways to conceptualize these days. Thursday as I reflected about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, I decided to wash hers. Although she couldn't hold the thought, she was blessed and so was I.

Susan and Joe regularly take her to church on Sundays, but it is a bit too much for one person to do alone. On top of that we knew church would be crowded today because it is Easter, and crowds are disconcerting for her. Initially, I was a bit sad about missing this significant Sunday service. But on my early walk this morning I was struck by the fullness of life everywhere--the Red Bud at the end of driveway looking so fragile and so beautiful with its purple-pink flowers emerging from thin dark branches, colorful azaleas bursting out in bushes on almost every corner, and birds, birds and more birds filling the air with songs. Years ago I read a biography of the mystic Evelyn Underhill. One story recounted her anticipation of an Easter service, which she said was meaningful, but it was her walk home from church that particular day where she experienced the glory of God in the newness of life surrounding her every step.  I think that is my story this morning.  Not what I expected, but how like God to bless us in such unexpected ways.  May your Easter be blessed! Anna