Holy Heartburn!? (no interrobang on my punctuation keys)
This Sunday I was at worship in Alison and David’s church...College Park Baptist... and their Pastor, Michael Usey, preached using the road to Emmaus passage. In retelling this old story about the two believers being joined by a stranger on their walk home after the crucifixion, Michael used the phrase “holy heartburn” to describe the aftershock the believers felt when they realized Jesus had been their guest on the walk and for a meal. That phrase has been rocketing around in my head as I begin to process the past two months of my life.
A quick synopsis... our dear friend David, part of the farm family began actively dying... one of our children hit a really rough patch that required my presence for a month during the week to help with children... David died... a weekend trip to Pennsylvania for the first memorial service... another weekend memorial service and potluck at Sabbath Rest Farm attended by over 100 people...a horse with a hoof abcess...and added to the mix, calving season with one young heifer that had to be put down when the twins she was carrying died and she turned septic. Not exactly the equivalent of post crucifixion pre-resurrection angst but close...So now what? I am looking for the holy heartburn in the middle of all my back and forthing. Where has God been while I have been on the road these past weeks?
God has been present in the faces and arms of other people...friends who come when I call or scream for help. They step up, they do the work, they don’t keep score, they listen and love me through without judgement or advice. I am blessed with travel companions on this road.
God has been present in our family... sisters who tend to each other, a son in law who loves his wife and children enough to do some really hard work to change, our children who call and keep in touch, who visit us and seem to enjoy coming home to Sabbath Rest Farm, grandchildren who give us great joy in the midst of life its ownself, farm family who have been family in word and deed.
God has been present in the world around me on the Emmaus road... daffodils blooming in abundance, green grass springing up, Carolina blue skies, pear tree blooms, the sounds of turkeys talking softly to each other in the morning in the woods outside my bedroom window, the hammering of a woodpecker on the dead tree in the woods, the does and their babies standing in silence as I drive by, rabbits scampering through the yard at twilight, blue birds and indigo buntings a flash of blue streaks in the air around me, sunshine and rain, morning and evening.
I am surrounded by God’s presence and I am ever so grateful for holy heartburn that reminds me I am not alone. I am living, breathing and seeing God all around me even in times of trouble. Jesus said, “Lo, I am with you even unto the end of the age.” And so he is.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Cold winds, bright sun...
The wind was biting cold, searing numb with snow blowing sideways as I went to the stable for morning chores. My Pippi Longstocking red hat kept my ears warm but there was no shelter for my face. Smudge and Bud met me halfway up the hill, ready for breakfast and morning pats. Shirley and Kate came and stood waiting for some attention. We all walked down the hill together, cats twining in and out of the donkey legs. Cats fed, I carried hay to the feeder before I let the horses out. They raced out with tails streaming in the wind, enlivened by the cold. After breaking the ice on the water, I cleaned the stalls while listening to NPR. As I made my way back up the hill, I stood by Junie B, my face buried in her flank, smelling the sweet horsiness, slowing my soul down.
It has been a sorrowful week for those of us here at Sabbath Rest Farm. We are preparing for the bodily departure of David Bair, our dear friend. Plans are being made for a Brats and Beer covered dish party after the memorial service at the party barn. David laughed at that idea. We will plant a redbud tree in his honor at a place Dianne chooses. We have been blessed to have him as a part of our lives these past years.
This morning the snowy wind is gone, replaced by a bright hard edged sunshine light in a clear Carolina blue sky. In this light, I can see far away the overlapping mountains that seem to roll like ocean waves towards the horizon. It is a beautiful day, not yet spring but on the edge of new life...as is David.
I am transfixed by this period of time in-between, luminescent and light filled even as the cold winds of death claim the body. Life seems more alive, more precious in its immediacy, and infinitely more loving as the extraneous is stripped away. The everydayness is held at bay in the joy and grief of the moment. I find myself holding my breath as David becomes a new creation.
In the midst of life, we are death. And, in the midst of death, we are life. The resurrection paradox will not let me go as in David’s dying, I am forced to face my own limitations. I will not live forever and someday, I will be where David now is. That is as it should be. Only God is forever, limitless loving presence that is the essence of past, present and future. Letting go of the illusion of my everlasting life, I am free to fly to the One who knows me and loves me anyway, free to be, free at last even if just for a moment in time.
Dear One, hold those of us still tethered to earth in your loving light as we struggle to let go of the one we love. Be patient with us, Lord, as our souls and minds mired in earthly clay are weighed down with sorrow and grief. Give us grace, please, and a glimpse of the life yet to come beyond death as we wait with David and Dianne here by this beautiful river that flows by the throne of God. Amen.
It has been a sorrowful week for those of us here at Sabbath Rest Farm. We are preparing for the bodily departure of David Bair, our dear friend. Plans are being made for a Brats and Beer covered dish party after the memorial service at the party barn. David laughed at that idea. We will plant a redbud tree in his honor at a place Dianne chooses. We have been blessed to have him as a part of our lives these past years.
This morning the snowy wind is gone, replaced by a bright hard edged sunshine light in a clear Carolina blue sky. In this light, I can see far away the overlapping mountains that seem to roll like ocean waves towards the horizon. It is a beautiful day, not yet spring but on the edge of new life...as is David.
I am transfixed by this period of time in-between, luminescent and light filled even as the cold winds of death claim the body. Life seems more alive, more precious in its immediacy, and infinitely more loving as the extraneous is stripped away. The everydayness is held at bay in the joy and grief of the moment. I find myself holding my breath as David becomes a new creation.
In the midst of life, we are death. And, in the midst of death, we are life. The resurrection paradox will not let me go as in David’s dying, I am forced to face my own limitations. I will not live forever and someday, I will be where David now is. That is as it should be. Only God is forever, limitless loving presence that is the essence of past, present and future. Letting go of the illusion of my everlasting life, I am free to fly to the One who knows me and loves me anyway, free to be, free at last even if just for a moment in time.
Dear One, hold those of us still tethered to earth in your loving light as we struggle to let go of the one we love. Be patient with us, Lord, as our souls and minds mired in earthly clay are weighed down with sorrow and grief. Give us grace, please, and a glimpse of the life yet to come beyond death as we wait with David and Dianne here by this beautiful river that flows by the throne of God. Amen.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
We are marching in the light of God...
We are marching in the light of God...
Every good endowment and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17
It has been a time of gathering darkness, a time of light in the midst of the darkness of death. This shadow time has been illuminated by love...David and Dianne’s love for each other, the love of family and friends, and the Love that has held David all his days shining more brightly than ever in his sweet face.
Yesterday when the two men walked into his bedroom, ready to take him to Solace, he raised his hand in greeting and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you fellas.” Somewhere deep under the pain and confusion, the essential David, beloved of God, summoned the courtesy to recognize and welcome the strangers. His eyesight clouded, his vision is pure and strong as he leaves this world, his eyes on the prize of Love realized and present in the life to come.
Old timers used to talk about someone making a good death. I never quite understood that as a child. How could something as painful as death be good? The years have taught me that a good death is the result of a life well lived, a life with regrets and mistakes owned and made right, gifts celebrated and loved ones held close, a faith in the continued loving care of the Creator who brought us into being. David is dying a good death.
At my church we sing a gospel hymn “We Are Marching in the Light of God”. And so we all are... marching in the Light that knows no shadow due to change. We grieve the approaching loss of the one we hold so dear and celebrate his marching to Loving Light that awaits him, no shadows, no changes, just the perfect gift of Love. Amen.
Every good endowment and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17
It has been a time of gathering darkness, a time of light in the midst of the darkness of death. This shadow time has been illuminated by love...David and Dianne’s love for each other, the love of family and friends, and the Love that has held David all his days shining more brightly than ever in his sweet face.
Yesterday when the two men walked into his bedroom, ready to take him to Solace, he raised his hand in greeting and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you fellas.” Somewhere deep under the pain and confusion, the essential David, beloved of God, summoned the courtesy to recognize and welcome the strangers. His eyesight clouded, his vision is pure and strong as he leaves this world, his eyes on the prize of Love realized and present in the life to come.
Old timers used to talk about someone making a good death. I never quite understood that as a child. How could something as painful as death be good? The years have taught me that a good death is the result of a life well lived, a life with regrets and mistakes owned and made right, gifts celebrated and loved ones held close, a faith in the continued loving care of the Creator who brought us into being. David is dying a good death.
At my church we sing a gospel hymn “We Are Marching in the Light of God”. And so we all are... marching in the Light that knows no shadow due to change. We grieve the approaching loss of the one we hold so dear and celebrate his marching to Loving Light that awaits him, no shadows, no changes, just the perfect gift of Love. Amen.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Fine wine, roses and old corduroy...
Days of fine wine, roses and old corduroy...
The popular patron saint of love, Valentine, has always seemed somewhat lacking in charisma for me. Cupids with bows and arrows are cute but haven’t any substance. The t.v. show “The Bachelor” makes my skin crawl watching women and a man playact the art of love. I needed some new images and inspirations for love... real love between real men and real women.
Swan and Freddie Lou are one of the couples who make my Dean’s List of Love. They were a model for living life as a couple with passion and purpose. Strong personalities, different in many ways, they knew how to cut each other some slack and how to be each other’s cheerleader. Visiting them was always like a dose of spring tonic, rejuvenating and reviving. Fine wine...
My parents and Michael’s parents are on this list, also. Michael’s dad and mom had known each other since they were teenagers. When she developed dementia, H.O. nursed her, lived with her until he was no longer physically able to care for her. Every day, he visited her until she died. Mama and Daddy were an unlikely couple brought together by World War II. When she speaks of him, her blue eyes flash and twinkle as she remembers how handsome he was. Theirs was a passion that survives after death. Like the scent of old roses, pressed and dried in the family Bible, the fragrance of our parents’ enduring love is sweet and strong.
This is the time of year Michael and I met and we relive our whirlwind courtship every year, retelling our story, remembering the whys and wherefores of our love. Forty four years have passed with more than enough love, laughter, grief and good work. We have weathered our share of storms, reared three children who gave us pleasure as parents and are delightful adults, moved around and remodeled old houses before finding Sabbath Rest Farm. We made a life together. It was not always easy but it was always worth it. Old corduroy made soft through the years that has lost none of its strength...
Real love, true love, is a love that knows perfection is neither possible nor to be desired. And like fine wine, this love lifts us up, invigorates and energizes. When the first flush of new love fades, the memories, the scent still lingers to remind us of our beginnings. As the years pass, our love weathers times of trial and jubilee, boredom and hard work, and a new fabric is formed. This fabric, like old corduroy, is strong, velvety, comforting and beautiful with a nap that shows its wear. Love is the weaving of our lives together to form “a more perfect union”, a reflection of the One who first loved and still loves us. I’ll take this over cupids and valentines any day...
The popular patron saint of love, Valentine, has always seemed somewhat lacking in charisma for me. Cupids with bows and arrows are cute but haven’t any substance. The t.v. show “The Bachelor” makes my skin crawl watching women and a man playact the art of love. I needed some new images and inspirations for love... real love between real men and real women.
Swan and Freddie Lou are one of the couples who make my Dean’s List of Love. They were a model for living life as a couple with passion and purpose. Strong personalities, different in many ways, they knew how to cut each other some slack and how to be each other’s cheerleader. Visiting them was always like a dose of spring tonic, rejuvenating and reviving. Fine wine...
My parents and Michael’s parents are on this list, also. Michael’s dad and mom had known each other since they were teenagers. When she developed dementia, H.O. nursed her, lived with her until he was no longer physically able to care for her. Every day, he visited her until she died. Mama and Daddy were an unlikely couple brought together by World War II. When she speaks of him, her blue eyes flash and twinkle as she remembers how handsome he was. Theirs was a passion that survives after death. Like the scent of old roses, pressed and dried in the family Bible, the fragrance of our parents’ enduring love is sweet and strong.
This is the time of year Michael and I met and we relive our whirlwind courtship every year, retelling our story, remembering the whys and wherefores of our love. Forty four years have passed with more than enough love, laughter, grief and good work. We have weathered our share of storms, reared three children who gave us pleasure as parents and are delightful adults, moved around and remodeled old houses before finding Sabbath Rest Farm. We made a life together. It was not always easy but it was always worth it. Old corduroy made soft through the years that has lost none of its strength...
Real love, true love, is a love that knows perfection is neither possible nor to be desired. And like fine wine, this love lifts us up, invigorates and energizes. When the first flush of new love fades, the memories, the scent still lingers to remind us of our beginnings. As the years pass, our love weathers times of trial and jubilee, boredom and hard work, and a new fabric is formed. This fabric, like old corduroy, is strong, velvety, comforting and beautiful with a nap that shows its wear. Love is the weaving of our lives together to form “a more perfect union”, a reflection of the One who first loved and still loves us. I’ll take this over cupids and valentines any day...
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