My Bucket List
All the water we used at Cloverly, my grandparent’s home, had to be drawn from the well and carried into the house. The well, dug by hand, sat in the back yard near the stone wheel that Granddaddy used to sharpen tools and knives. It was encircled with stones and covered with a wooden lid. A pulley over the frame above the well held the rope that let the bucket down into the well. Every morning and afternoon, Granddaddy let the bucket down into the well, the pulley creaking a little at the weight of the old oak bucket. He waited until the bucket hit the water and filled, then pulled up a heavy bucket full of sweet well water with the pulley squeaking loudly. Two white enamelware buckets were filled and carried into the kitchen where they sat on a table ready for use. The battered and dented aluminum dipper hung over the side of a bucket for quick drinks. Saturdays required four or five extra buckets of water for the wash tub bath in the kitchen. Water was a precious commodity. The well was always full and never ran dry.
This weekend a friend asked me what was on my bucket list, the list you make when you think about what you want to do before you kick the bucket. I thought awhile and then thought some more. I could name some things that would be fun to do but none of them were essential for my soul’s sake. Travel to other countries would be fun and educational, I am sure. Winning the sweepstakes would eliminate financial stress. Visiting the great art museums all around the world would be loverly. But the truth of the matter is that I have my bucket list already.
I am married and happy, a word that is too cheap these days. Happiness that is a slow flowing river of contentment, and thanksgiving for all I have been given in my relationships. Husband, mother, children, grandchildren and friends give me the gift of their presence in my life, a presence that upholds me when the river of life is rocky and dangerous.
I live on a farm like I always wanted to. Farm work keeps me close to God all year. This farm has beauty... sunrises and sunsets, fog and clouds drifting over the distant hills and settling in the valleys, the passage of the seasons just outside my front door. The lessons of nature are everywhere... life and death come in season, an animal bone drug up by a dog, the death of this season’s leaves, new baby fawns, kittens in the leaning barn, harsh winter weather that gives way to soft spring’s gentle winds, drought that seems to last forever, and the sure knowledge that nothing on this earth is permanent.
I have horses. A long cherished dream of being close to my own horse has come true. It is infinitely richer and more difficult than anything I ever imagined. I will be learning about horses for the rest of my life. They will be my teachers in the art of relationship with someone very different from yourself.
I teach. To teach others how to explore their own gifts of creativity and to do it well is a challenge and a gift. I am a good teacher. I don’t scare people who are struggling to find their artist inside. I know how to affirm what they produce and point out changes without overwhelming their tender child that lives inside. Work to do and pleasure in the doing of it...
My bucket list is more like Granddaddy’s bucket dropping down into the well, coming up full to overflowing. The well of God’s grace and presence in my life provides full buckets of thanksgiving and praise. Whenever I want to or need to, I can walk out to the well and pull up buckets of blessings given to me, not because I deserved them, but as a gift of grace. I guess my bucket list is a long one after all.
An old hymn written by Baptist minister Robert Lowell is my bucket list theme song for today... How Can I Keep From Singing. “My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation, I hear the clear, though far off hymn, that hails a new creation. No storm can shake my inmost calm since to the Rock I’m clinging. Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?”
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Let Others See Jesus in You at the Food Lion...
Let Others See Jesus In You at the Food Lion...
Sometimes God sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Yesterday God showed up for me as I was leaving Food Lion and my heart shattered as I came face to face with God incarnate.
Megan and the boys had just left for their home after a visit on the farm. The larder was bare so I was grocery shopping for the basics... bread, milk, eggs. It was five o’clock, not the usual time I go to the grocery, and the store was full of folks on their way home after work. Moms were rushing through the aisles followed by children begging for sugar coated cereal. Men and women were standing in front of the frozen vegetable case trying to decide which one to choose. Hustle and bustle pervaded the store... rush hour for food.
I made my way to the check out line and began unloading the cart. A short, dumpy Hispanic woman held out two items and asked in broken English if she could break in front of me. I smiled and said yes. And as so often happens when you are trying to be a good Christian, it backfires on you. One of her two items price was mislabeled and had to be checked out. We stood and waited, she smiling in embarrassment and me smiling in spite of myself. Eventually it was sorted out and my turn came to be checked out.
As I was pushing my cart through the doors, an old man was coming into the store. His once tall body was bent and bowed. He caught my eye because he was wearing ironed overalls, once a common sight in the rural south. His ball cap was set firmly on his head and he wore serviceable sturdy black shoes. As I was looking at him, he looked up. I smiled and he smiled back, such a sweet smile. I wondered if he was buying food for supper for himself, or a wife who could no longer come to the store. Such a short interchange, a wordless recognition of one another’s presence, an affirmation of our connection in the front door of the Food Lion... I wanted to stop and talk to him, find out his story, know a little piece of the man behind the sweet smile. I wondered what I would look like in twenty years at eighty two. Would I be able to go to the Food Lion to shop and would anyone would smile at me?
I pushed my cart through the doors on to the sidewalk, moving over to let a woman pass me. She was followed by her daughter, a young woman with Downs Syndrome. Since our family has been inducted into the world of children with special challenges, I respond differently to these children now. The young woman was dressed nicely, her hair done and wearing make up. As we passed each other, I smiled at her, on purpose, and caught her by surprise. I wonder if she was used to being looked over, passed by without recognition. She tried to smile back but her embarrassment was evident. Her challenges are easily recognized because of her facial features. Mine are not as easily seen because they are masked by the appearance of normality. Yet I suspect she and I have much in common were we able to know one another.
For that moment in time, I felt the power of the presence of God as I smiled and was connected to those two very different children of God. The overwhelming painful compassion that swept through my soul brought tears to my eyes as I walked to the car. My heart was tender and my soul was soft as I let my self become part of their worlds. Compassion, from the Latin compati... to suffer with... God loved us enough to come into our world, to suffer with us, to feel our hurts and losses. In the gospel of Mark we read , “As Jesus went ashore, he saw a great throng, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd...” We all are sheep without a shepherd. Old men, young women, children and the rest of us, waiting for the smile and the voice of the Shepherd to gather us in. I hope the old man and young woman at Food Lion yesterday saw Jesus’ smile in my smile. I hope they felt the warmth of the Great Shepherd’s love as we passed by one another on the way to the rest of our lives. I did.
Sometimes God sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Yesterday God showed up for me as I was leaving Food Lion and my heart shattered as I came face to face with God incarnate.
Megan and the boys had just left for their home after a visit on the farm. The larder was bare so I was grocery shopping for the basics... bread, milk, eggs. It was five o’clock, not the usual time I go to the grocery, and the store was full of folks on their way home after work. Moms were rushing through the aisles followed by children begging for sugar coated cereal. Men and women were standing in front of the frozen vegetable case trying to decide which one to choose. Hustle and bustle pervaded the store... rush hour for food.
I made my way to the check out line and began unloading the cart. A short, dumpy Hispanic woman held out two items and asked in broken English if she could break in front of me. I smiled and said yes. And as so often happens when you are trying to be a good Christian, it backfires on you. One of her two items price was mislabeled and had to be checked out. We stood and waited, she smiling in embarrassment and me smiling in spite of myself. Eventually it was sorted out and my turn came to be checked out.
As I was pushing my cart through the doors, an old man was coming into the store. His once tall body was bent and bowed. He caught my eye because he was wearing ironed overalls, once a common sight in the rural south. His ball cap was set firmly on his head and he wore serviceable sturdy black shoes. As I was looking at him, he looked up. I smiled and he smiled back, such a sweet smile. I wondered if he was buying food for supper for himself, or a wife who could no longer come to the store. Such a short interchange, a wordless recognition of one another’s presence, an affirmation of our connection in the front door of the Food Lion... I wanted to stop and talk to him, find out his story, know a little piece of the man behind the sweet smile. I wondered what I would look like in twenty years at eighty two. Would I be able to go to the Food Lion to shop and would anyone would smile at me?
I pushed my cart through the doors on to the sidewalk, moving over to let a woman pass me. She was followed by her daughter, a young woman with Downs Syndrome. Since our family has been inducted into the world of children with special challenges, I respond differently to these children now. The young woman was dressed nicely, her hair done and wearing make up. As we passed each other, I smiled at her, on purpose, and caught her by surprise. I wonder if she was used to being looked over, passed by without recognition. She tried to smile back but her embarrassment was evident. Her challenges are easily recognized because of her facial features. Mine are not as easily seen because they are masked by the appearance of normality. Yet I suspect she and I have much in common were we able to know one another.
For that moment in time, I felt the power of the presence of God as I smiled and was connected to those two very different children of God. The overwhelming painful compassion that swept through my soul brought tears to my eyes as I walked to the car. My heart was tender and my soul was soft as I let my self become part of their worlds. Compassion, from the Latin compati... to suffer with... God loved us enough to come into our world, to suffer with us, to feel our hurts and losses. In the gospel of Mark we read , “As Jesus went ashore, he saw a great throng, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd...” We all are sheep without a shepherd. Old men, young women, children and the rest of us, waiting for the smile and the voice of the Shepherd to gather us in. I hope the old man and young woman at Food Lion yesterday saw Jesus’ smile in my smile. I hope they felt the warmth of the Great Shepherd’s love as we passed by one another on the way to the rest of our lives. I did.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Stars of Wonder
It was too early to get up and too late to go back to sleep so I let my mind go walkabout this morning. Megan and her three boys are coming today for a Halloween visit so I rambled through a grocery list and fun to do list for awhile. Then I began to recite Bible verses and passages I memorized as a child. I was surprised at how many I remembered. I wondered if children memorized Bible verses today in Sunday School. It was a comfort to be able to turn those ancient beloved words over in my mind, hearing and seeing those words that have been a part of my faith for sixty two years.
And then I remembered last night. After supper with mama, I went down to the stable to settle the horses in for the night. I called them in from the pasture, gave them some feed and hay, patted their suddenly wooly winter coats and began the walk up to the house. After several days of windy, cold, snowy weather, the world around me was still and calm. The dark night was lit up with thousands of pinpoint lights. As far as I could see, from mountaintop to mountaintop, stars and planets blossomed with a living light and it took my breath away. I stood still, breathed in the crisp night air and fell on my faith knees in wonder. The world of the universe is a mystery and an enormity beyond my ability to understand. All I can do is stand in silence and awe in the midst of such abundance and beauty.
It is a worry and a wonder that the One who created the stars, the One who is as far from me as the stars, is also as close to me as my heart. My mind, which cannot encompass the infinitude of the universe or the endless being of God, must make room for the presence of God in my tiny, limited self. I am, in my own peculiar particular self, a home for a part of God, the same God of the stars in the heavens. “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you which you have from God?” This question in First Corinthians reminds me of God’s gracious gift of Spirit to my body. And in my body, my heart, is a universe as infinite as the stars in the skies above. “Star of wonder, star of night, star with loyal beauty bright, westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.” May I always be able to see stars and feel the wonder, accept the mystery, and celebrate the presence of the starlight within my soul.
And then I remembered last night. After supper with mama, I went down to the stable to settle the horses in for the night. I called them in from the pasture, gave them some feed and hay, patted their suddenly wooly winter coats and began the walk up to the house. After several days of windy, cold, snowy weather, the world around me was still and calm. The dark night was lit up with thousands of pinpoint lights. As far as I could see, from mountaintop to mountaintop, stars and planets blossomed with a living light and it took my breath away. I stood still, breathed in the crisp night air and fell on my faith knees in wonder. The world of the universe is a mystery and an enormity beyond my ability to understand. All I can do is stand in silence and awe in the midst of such abundance and beauty.
It is a worry and a wonder that the One who created the stars, the One who is as far from me as the stars, is also as close to me as my heart. My mind, which cannot encompass the infinitude of the universe or the endless being of God, must make room for the presence of God in my tiny, limited self. I am, in my own peculiar particular self, a home for a part of God, the same God of the stars in the heavens. “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you which you have from God?” This question in First Corinthians reminds me of God’s gracious gift of Spirit to my body. And in my body, my heart, is a universe as infinite as the stars in the skies above. “Star of wonder, star of night, star with loyal beauty bright, westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.” May I always be able to see stars and feel the wonder, accept the mystery, and celebrate the presence of the starlight within my soul.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Art of Advent... Let the Lower Lights Be Burning
Looking for the Lower Lights
It is cold here on the hill at the farm... 36 degrees yesterday with the wind chill factored in. And last night it was snowing as we went to bed. No accumulation was expected because the ground is still warm but there it was, snow in October. Ski slopes are rejoicing but not farmers. After a difficult dry summer with not enough hay put aside, we are feeding winter rations already. Large animals need a great deal of hay during cold weather not just for nutrition’s sake. Digestion, the work of multiple stomachs, keeps them warm during winter’s blasts.
Last night when I fed the cows, I opened the gate to the barn so the cows could have shelter. I came up the hill to our house and gathered the horses in from the grazing patch to feed them in the barn. Then I went to get the donkeys. Shirley T and Kate always slip under the electric cord to go their own way for grazing. Last night they did not want to come in and refused to let me lead them home. So I did the rational thing. I drove the mule like a horse, ran their little donkey butts over hill and dale until they gave up and ran home. Their little legs can cover some ground quickly. Shirley T was so frisky from the cold weather that she kept jumping in the air with all four feet, braying (cussing) as she outran the mule.
Mama and I were laughing about daddy getting so mad with the cows that he would bump them (gently) with his truck. I have become my father. My only excuse is brain freeze. After an hour in the cold with gusty winds blowing, my ability to think was frozen. Oh, well... The donkeys have been getting too fat from too much grain so they needed the exercise.
This morning at nine, the vet is coming to check Dakota out. Dakota has turned out to be an easy horse to ride. He has good sense and his years of experience as a trail horse make him patient with beginners. Dakota is a good influence on Junie B when Michael and I ride together. It will be cold down at the stable and I might need to take a thermos of hot tea to stay thawed out.
Winter’s cold winds remind me that the darkness of Advent is approaching. Advent is s study in paradox and contrast. We mark the passing of the Sabbaths with words like peace, hope, joy, love... warm fuzzy words that make us feel good. But the truth of Advent is the absence of light. The One who brought light to our darkness has not yet been born. Like the darkness of winter days, the darkness in our hearts and souls needs a season for recognition and release. I stand outside at the stable gate, in the night darkness, seeing the glow of far off lights in Asheville over the hills and mountains. As I prepare to enter this Advent season, I will carry the memory of those lights and all the Light that has been a part of my life for sixty two years.
An old hymn based on seafaring experience is my theme song for this preparation time. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy from His lighthouse evermore, But to us He gives the keeping of the lights along the shore. Dark the night of sin has settled, loud the angry billows roar, eager eyes are watching, longing for the lights along the shore. Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; some poor sailor, tempest tossed, trying now to make the harbor, in the darkness may be lost. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman you may rescue, you may save.” Luke 12:35, the Bible verse inspiration for this hymn, says “Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning...” I will try to keep my light burning through the darkness of Advent winter. I will clothe my soul in hope, love, joy and peace while I wait for the Light to shine on me again. And it will...
It is cold here on the hill at the farm... 36 degrees yesterday with the wind chill factored in. And last night it was snowing as we went to bed. No accumulation was expected because the ground is still warm but there it was, snow in October. Ski slopes are rejoicing but not farmers. After a difficult dry summer with not enough hay put aside, we are feeding winter rations already. Large animals need a great deal of hay during cold weather not just for nutrition’s sake. Digestion, the work of multiple stomachs, keeps them warm during winter’s blasts.
Last night when I fed the cows, I opened the gate to the barn so the cows could have shelter. I came up the hill to our house and gathered the horses in from the grazing patch to feed them in the barn. Then I went to get the donkeys. Shirley T and Kate always slip under the electric cord to go their own way for grazing. Last night they did not want to come in and refused to let me lead them home. So I did the rational thing. I drove the mule like a horse, ran their little donkey butts over hill and dale until they gave up and ran home. Their little legs can cover some ground quickly. Shirley T was so frisky from the cold weather that she kept jumping in the air with all four feet, braying (cussing) as she outran the mule.
Mama and I were laughing about daddy getting so mad with the cows that he would bump them (gently) with his truck. I have become my father. My only excuse is brain freeze. After an hour in the cold with gusty winds blowing, my ability to think was frozen. Oh, well... The donkeys have been getting too fat from too much grain so they needed the exercise.
This morning at nine, the vet is coming to check Dakota out. Dakota has turned out to be an easy horse to ride. He has good sense and his years of experience as a trail horse make him patient with beginners. Dakota is a good influence on Junie B when Michael and I ride together. It will be cold down at the stable and I might need to take a thermos of hot tea to stay thawed out.
Winter’s cold winds remind me that the darkness of Advent is approaching. Advent is s study in paradox and contrast. We mark the passing of the Sabbaths with words like peace, hope, joy, love... warm fuzzy words that make us feel good. But the truth of Advent is the absence of light. The One who brought light to our darkness has not yet been born. Like the darkness of winter days, the darkness in our hearts and souls needs a season for recognition and release. I stand outside at the stable gate, in the night darkness, seeing the glow of far off lights in Asheville over the hills and mountains. As I prepare to enter this Advent season, I will carry the memory of those lights and all the Light that has been a part of my life for sixty two years.
An old hymn based on seafaring experience is my theme song for this preparation time. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy from His lighthouse evermore, But to us He gives the keeping of the lights along the shore. Dark the night of sin has settled, loud the angry billows roar, eager eyes are watching, longing for the lights along the shore. Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; some poor sailor, tempest tossed, trying now to make the harbor, in the darkness may be lost. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman you may rescue, you may save.” Luke 12:35, the Bible verse inspiration for this hymn, says “Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning...” I will try to keep my light burning through the darkness of Advent winter. I will clothe my soul in hope, love, joy and peace while I wait for the Light to shine on me again. And it will...
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