Sabbath Inchworm

Early last week, when it looked like we were going to need to hunker down, I spent a bit of money I really didn't need to spend. I have been looking at this portable chair for a long while....except it is not a chair....it comes in a tote bag like the many chairs we have for beach and former sport's Mom use, except, as I mentioned, it is not a chair. It is a HAMMOCK CHAIR!! In what may have been an unwise expense in these financially uncertain days, I ponied up the 29.99 plus tax at the Wals Mart and carried it on home.

   I slyly waited for everyone else to be occupied, and took it out of the back of my car and set it up in the Pavilion (fine - I know some of you call it the carport, but I have a table and chairs and my Grandma's glider and some small settling benches and rag rugs in mine - hence the fancy name) Now, to a woman who has some balance issues, getting in said Hammock Chair was a bit of a trick. I steadied myself on the table, and gingerly lowered myself awkwardly into my prize. I'm not going to lie. It was uncomfortable....really uncomfortable. Disheartened, I was about to try to figure out how to get out of the darned thing, when Baby Girl came outside and said "Wow - where did that come from"? I said "ummm, the back of my car", and tried (unsuccessfully) to get up with at least some grace. Once I was up and out (It was a sight, let me tell you), Baby Girl plopped down in it and said...."Huh...not real comfortable, is it?" I turned tail, and made a bee line for the house. I was angry with myself for spending the money, and heartbroken that it wasn't the stuff of my dreams. I puttered around the kitchen for a while. Baby Girl came in and said "Come here...I figured out how to sit in it, and it is wonderful!"

    And she was right. Once you figure it out, well...to me, it is Nirvana.

Which is how I found myself outside early this morning, in the Pavilion, swinging blissfully away, drinking coffee, reading my book and waiting for our pre-recorded Worship service to come online.

And let me tell you....I had  true Sabbath. For the first time in a very long while. I sat. I rested. I swung in my Hammock Chair to my hearts content. I breathed the fresh air. I felt the beautiful breeze. I heard the symphony of birds. I saw the first Butterfly of the season, bright yellow and beautiful.

   I noticed it as I reached forward to get my coffee cup off of the table. A bright green inchworm at eye level, on the other side of the table. As I took a sip of coffee, I put my book down, and decided to watch for a minute, or twenty....you see, as I studied the inch worm, I saw that  he was just going about his daily business of spinning silk to climb, one little scunch at a time. And every few scunches he would stop and rest, then continue on his way, doing his inchworm thing. Scunch, scunch, scunch, rest. Repeat. It was mesmerizing. He had gotten about five feet up in the air, when a big gust of wind sent him swinging like a trapeze artist. He held fast to the silk that had come from deep inside and let himself be carried by the wind - buffeted back and forth, secure in the knowledge that the silk would carry him. Once he came back to steady center, he continued his journey Scunch, scunch, scunch, rest. The last I saw of my friend, he had made his way to the roofline, and continued on, out of my sight.

  I learned a great lesson from that inchworm today. We should go along as best we can, using, relying on that "thing" that is inside of us...that "thing" that carries and guides us. It is good and necessary to rest along the journey. And when you are hit with an unexpected wind that turns everything upside down, hold tight to that thing that comes from within you...let it carry you. Cling to it. Be flexible, and work with what you've got. And when everything comes back to rights, continue on, secure in that which carries you....that which you carry inside of you. Thus endeth the lesson.

The Gloaming

  It's a familiar kind of feeling....one from my long ago past, and while not exactly the same, it is similar enough. It has happened every afternoon for the last couple of weeks. As the day bleeds into late afternoon, I feel it as a dull flutter behind my forehead that funnels under my right ear. It spreads around my neck and down my shoulders - into my arms. Once there, it shoots into my center and floods into my lower extremities  In my teenage years it's name was sadness....worry....melancholy. My Mothers illness and impending death colored my every waking moment, but in that part of the day known as the Gloaming, it went into overdrive.
   In the present, it's name is anxiety....what if....fear.
Once I saw the pattern returning, I tried to change my routine. No news while I make supper, just lovely Celtic music, Native American Flute, or New Age Piano. I am mindful of the warmth of the water and the lovely fragrance of the soap as I wash my hands.  While I chop the vegetables, I say a prayer of thanksgiving that I am able to provide a hot, nutritious and hopefully delicious meal  for my family. I look forward to the five of us gathered around the table - laughing, talking, telling stories....powerful juju for sure, yet none of it vanquishes that Gloaming feeling.

    Tonight, as I was working on supper, slogging through the Gloaming, I caught sight of my reflection in the kitchen window. And I flashed back to another reflection in another window.
  This past Sunday, our Worship Service was live streamed. Just the Four of us - the Ministerial staff -were present. As we met to discuss the order of service, we automatically distanced ourselves in the sanctuary - how odd that there were no hugs, or claps on the shoulder. Although we were happy to see each other, there in that sacred space, the emptiness was palpable - the silence a veritable hum. Our conversation bounced off of the walls and wood pews, making it almost an echo chamber. Our business finished, we turned our talk to Covid 19....sharing bits and pieces of new information we had heard....discussing the possibility (now reality) of a Statewide Shelter in Place order....what that would look like, how our lives would become very small indeed.....
   I was left unsettled and tearful - that Gloaming feeling was kicking in hours ahead of schedule. As I zipped up my black robe, I walked to the window to collect myself before we started recording. Our windows are the most beautiful architectural feature of our Church. They flank the pews, and soar to the ceiling. The light is unbelievable. I looked out into the yard where I played as a child...where my children played, running around the giant trees....Above the reflection of my right shoulder I could see the large solitary candle in the center of our altar being lit behind me. As the candle caught and flared, I saw - not the reflection of one flame, but two. I turned to see if another candle had been added, but there it remained - the lone candle. Once again facing the window, there was no mistaking it....two flames danced happily together. It is that image I want to carry with me into the Gloaming. Proof that we are never alone. There, dancing just above our right shoulder is evidence of God's love and constant presence, 2 flames from 1, whispering "Come ye who are heavy laden, and I will give ye rest". May it ever be so.... for "Those who walked in the darkness have seen a great light".

Grocery store humanity

After the strokes, I was left with several deficits. Things that I have learned to manage and live with. The issue that affects me the most on the daily is Post Stroke Anxiety (yes, that is a real thing). On a normal day it is something like the low flame of embers that are burning themselves out -  under every inch of my skin. On a bad day, it is like a conflagration under my skin, racing towards command central, somewhere in the vicinity of my solar plexus. Which is how I found myself in the parking lot of one of our local grocery stores this morning, a few minutes before they were set to open. My rationale is that the germs present will be at their lowest of the day, as will my anxiety, which has been in overdrive since the Corona virus stepped onto the scene. The store was delayed in opening - by 30 minutes - which gave me plenty of time sitting in my car, and then standing in the line that was forming, to observe my fellow man.

   There, in the line waiting for the doors to open, I encountered lovely people - happy to have someone to talk to....share concerns with. I encountered people who looked so terrified and broken that the merest breeze would have shattered them into a million pieces. I encountered people who boldly broke into the front of the line, the look on their face daring the rest of us to challenge them. I knew a moment of pure terror, as a middle aged white man (WHY is it always the middle aged white man?!) pulled into the parking lot, saw the line waiting to get in - and stopped his car dead - screaming and cursing. He revved his engine, hit the accelerator, and for the briefest of seconds, I thought he was going to plow into the people in the line. In a display of  rage and neanderthalism , he circled the parking lot twice, tires squealing, before he sped off.

   We entered the store without further incident - plenty of smiles and nods, as we acknowledged our shared plight. I shopped from my list, and quickly found everything I needed. Eggs topped the list, followed closely by fruits and veg. I was swift, but still encountered a massive checkout line. The manager was directing the shoppers into one long line, flanking the aisle and wrapping around the end cap, which would then branch out to one of the cashiers when you arrived at the front. It really did work very well, and seemed an efficient system. While I waited, I eavesdropped on the conversations around me (one of my less appealing traits, I know). The 60ish couple behind me, were discussing how ridiculous this all was....how people were overreacting, how the Corona virus was just a fabrication of the left wing media....how stupid the closing of the restaurants and schools seemed....(And, once again, I failed at my Lent offering....because at this point I was judging them, and hard) All this I heard without outwardly flinching...I was looking straight ahead, moving with the line, but I whipped my head around when they started congratulating themselves on their superiority....simpering and smirking at those around them, they proclaimed loudly that even if there was a virus,  they would be immune, because they were Christian. I could not believe my ears. I have encountered such ideology in the news, and on social media, but never in the flesh. Fortunately, I had reached the point in the line where I was invited to stand behind a register, thus being spared the rest of their diatribe. After unloading my items, I had a brief conversation with the cashier - she was tired, and feeling on edge, but was happy that I had found the things I needed. I moved to the counter to bag my groceries. Focused on my task, I heard "I'm sorry sir, there is a limit of two on those waters, and the chicken too". Voices quickly raised, and I turned to find the source of the fracas....the self same believing nonbelievers....the immune Christians - fighting with the cashier, who was already weary, 15 minutes into her shift. "Well, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard" shouted the man - spittle dribbling down his chin in his righteous indignation. "I am buying ALL of these things", he continued....In a moment of magnificence, the young woman behind the cash register stood to her full height and said "No you are not. There is a limit, because other people need these things too, and we are going to make sure that as many people as possible can get what they need."  The best of humanity, and the worst - in one grocery transaction. Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison.... Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.