Settling

I'm still settling into the Easter reality. I feel as if I have lived the drama of death and resurrection many times in my life. While I still grieve for many I have lost, I also can say that I no longer fear death as perhaps I once did. As I age I understand in a deeper sense the whole cycle thing of life. While my immediate family and I wait as my grandmother struggles through her last days, a good friend recently relayed his joy over his wife's newly discovered pregnancy.

It is hard to get stuck in the low moments when you believe and can see the high ones around the bend.

It doesn't lessen the lower moments, it just keeps them in perspective. I have to say that I have grown to love the intricate, sometimes painful and sometimes magnificent cycle of life. I feel as if I railed against the reality of it in my younger years, desperate to 'hang on' and to 'rage against the dying of the light.' But, I'm okay with it now. My faith truly affords me the belief that there is peace and love on the other side of this life and that however it takes shape it will truly be beyond our wildest dreams and expectations.

This week has been fraught with vulnerabilities. My mother is in pain with back problems; my son has bronchitis; my grandmother is dying. Finitude is very real. Yet, I know, as Julian of Norwich so poingnantly put, that all will be well...yes, all will be well.

Along Lent's Journey

I had great expectations for Lent. Among those thoughts were lots of free time leisurely reading and large expanses of time in which to get lost in the goodness of God. Alas, it has not exactly gone that way. I struggle to maintain my Lenten discipline and those free moments have been few and far between.

But, as a result, my view of holiness has changed. As I was pondering a sermon on freedom today, one of the strains of thought emphasized how we can become bound by too much freedom. In truth, I have always been that way. In the absence of expectations, I become restless and selfish; I lose my focus and zeal and wallow in anxiety. However, given too much on my plate, my joy is eroded and I feel tapped out. So, my lenten journey has inevitably arrived at the question of balance.

As with all good things in life, there has to be some balance and boundaries. And, I find that holiness is found there in that delicate balance. Whereas I once envisioned holiness to be found in seclusion and separation, I now find it when two or three are gathered in His name. My desire for God now grows both in fellowship and in quiet time. My awareness of God's presence is heightened in my son's laughter and my observance of animals at play. I pray to mature in mysticism and spiritual maturity: to know peace in all things, to share joy with all, and to endure suffering in hope. I pray to find my foundation in the simplest of things, deep within the beauty that joins us all.

For my children, lost but not forgotten 2-11-08

Saral Noel Blaylock

Rachel Ayla Blaylock

Noah Gabriel Blaylock

Dear Sarah, Rachel, and Noah,

It is hard to believe that five years have passed since I held you in my arms. What a brief but blessed time that was. How strange it is that such crucial moments in our lives seem to transcend time. It is the same with your presence now as it was then: you are nestled safely in my heart and continue to animate every good thing I do.

It is you, my three special babies, who taught me how to love more fully than ever before. You stretched the limits of my being and when you left this earth I felt so excruciatingly empty. But, our dear Lord has tempered that loss with great joys in your father and brother, great zeal for this life that once seemed so hard to live. And, now, I am happily pursuing a place in ministry so that I may continue to share the wordless joy that you three gave to me four years ago.

To say that I miss you now seems only trite. I still long for you; I still hear whispers of your laughter; I catch glimpses of your smiles in earthly faces; I feel your movement in my deepest yearnings. I am grateful, perhaps now more than ever, for my faith. It is my faith which sustains this earthly journey and somehow assures me that our spirits will meet again. I would be lost without that faith, without that hope.

The gentle nudge of your spirits remain close to me; I never fail to listen though it is often painful. Be patient with my sorrow; I appreciate your closeness to our God and will join you in proper time.

Stay in the light, in the bosom of our Lord, my sweet children. Know that you are loved, missed and forever cherished.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Mama

http://surprisedbyjoy.blogspot.com/2006/02/in-memoriam.html
http://surprisedbyjoy.blogspot.com/2005/02/letter-to-my-precious-three.html

Ash Wednesday

I used to avoid the Ash Wednesday services. Perhaps not consciously, but they never particularly interested me. I guess when you are not into the partying mentality of carnivale, then the Lenten fast holds little value.

However, this year I am trying to approach it differently. The older I get the more I realize how much I have and how much I take for granted. I remember lying in the hospital after losing our triplets, still unable to have regular foods, thinking that I would never take a simple thing like having a coffee and doughnut for granted. And, yet, I do. So, I am forsaking much of the novelty of eating for forty days in the hopes of appreciating and better cultivating my abundance.

I've come to appreciate the seasons of life and liturgy. There is some truth in realizing that those delicious licorice jelly beans of Easter taste so much better when you haven't had them in a while.


So, like the cocoon from which the butterly emerges, I pray to emerge from Lent with a fresher, truer perspective.

Early signs of spring

To see or *not* to see...that is the question...

I've been cataloging two or three years of old photos that I have saved on CDROMs. When you take as many pictures as I do, it is easy to forget about them as they are put away and archived in a neat little closet. So much of my son's infancy and first months I found while digging; now, I can rummage and reminisce as I have neatly cataloged most of my old stuff on a new hard drive. How I love the wonders of technology and external hard drives.

As I browsed through the files, it was very much like rummaging through the attic. I caught myself mumbling things like "I'd forgotten about that" or asking my husband "was he ever really that small (our big toddler boy)?" The whole process reminded me of how easy it is for me to forget the good stuff of life and to get bogged down in the trivialities of today (that closet that still needs organizing, the dishes, etc.).

I find that is true of my spiritual life and relationship with scripture. Sometimes as I stumble across an old story, I am reminded "oh yeah, I forgot about that." Memorial, or in the Greek (anamnesis) is a powerful part of our tradition. It is more than just remembering; it is reliving and embodying the story of those gone before us, those to whom we unite in solidarity and struggle. So little has changed in the way of being human. What has changed and can change is how we see and react to the world around us.

The camera and my pursuit of photography has forever changed the way I see the world. While brave souls like Martin Luther King Jr. have shared their vision and hope and changed the world, I have too often reveled in my explanation of why my glass is half empty. However, in the last decade the camera has helped to see that "hey! at least there is something in the glass! My, how it twinkles in the light! Cool! There are tiny bubbles...." This tiny bit of willingness to see has not only transformed my relationship to the world but to people as well.

Thumbing through old photographs makes me reappreciate the simple beauties of life. I often find my solitude while out walking and taking in the beautiful landscapes around me. Given my predilection for nature, I love this quote from Willa Cather: The miracles of the church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.

In spite of the negativity that often comes too easy for me, I am intensely grateful that I do occasionally hear and see the glory of God all around me. It comes in simple moments, in bright beautiful colors and in muted mysteries. I pray to grow more attuned to the divine whisper in my soul.

On Gardening

I've heard the term 'spirituality' bandied about for years now. I'm never quite sure what is meant by the term unless a sufficient context is provided. For me, I think of spirituality in terms of a garden. And, mind you, I have no green thumbs.

Gardening is hard work. I was out tossing some dead plants today, plants I should have brought in before we dipped near freezing temperatures, and I was reminded of how those dead plants are much like my spirit when I haven't had ample quiet time. I start to wilt and look ashen; I long for the warmth of the sun and brighter days. Just months ago my garden was full of life, some wild, some planted, arbitrarily tended by me. I have a bad habit of planting flowers with great intentions of caring for them only to return to them weeks later in an effort to save them from final doom.

I was having lunch with a friend the other day and noticed a beautifully manicured garden at a local restaurant. I remarked, "I wonder how they keep these so healthy." She responded, "I think they are replaced and replinished regularly." There are so many things in my spiritual life that need fine tuned care; they can't simply be replinished or replaced. So, I must tend to them with some sense of dedicated care and not take the benefits of such care for granted.

My soil often grows rocky and dry. Real friendship, a sunny day, a stroll with the dogs, or the smile of my baby boy all enrich the soil again. As I grow older, I am more aware of the gems which fertilize my soul. Simple things like this story--enjoy!

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=5249518974978628334

Stories like this put everything in perspective. I like a good sermon that isn't really a sermon at all...