reflection

5/8 – Year of Mercy – Intentions

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It always amuses me when things do not go as planned but still they go, and then it’s okay or even better.

I arrived this monring at church intent on writing for about half an hour or so. Instead, I spied the holy door and my intent changed to going through the holy door first, one more time. I prayed the prayer that Pope Francis provided for the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. I prayed the prayer on the door, and I entered. I was greeted with sounds of the choir practicing. Acapella. Beautiful. The church was still dim, lights not on yet; only natural light filtering through the skylight and the stained glass. It reminded me of my first few days visiting the church.

Before I could take my seat to write before the mass began, I was stopped by a good friend. She was telling me how she and her husband started watching The Walking Dead. They started with season one and are a few episodes into season two and they love it. This made me smile. It shows me not to make assumptions. I would never have recommended that she watch it but so glad she enjoys it.

I was also stopped by my morning of service committee chairperson to tell me I was on my own at the registration table next week. Instead of my usual dread of such a thing, the change, the unexpected, I was not only relieved but thankful I’d volunteered for the registration in the front place.

Mercy and gratitude are everywhere.

You don’t even need to look very far to discover it.

3/8 – Pilgrimage

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​”This (Holy Year) is the opportune moment to change our lives!” the pope has said. “This is the time to allow our hearts to be touched!…May pilgrimage be an impetus to conversion.”

 – Pope Francis

 This is what Pope Francis said when he opened up this Jubilee Holy Year of Mercy. He also mentioned that a pilgrimage would be equally beneficial closer to home if a trip to Rome wasn’t possible.

That intrigued me, and I began to think about pilgrimage in a more tangible, more accessible way.

In a mere five weeks,  we are coming to the conclusion of that Extraordinary Jubilee Year.

In some ways, I have done much towards creating a better understanding of mercy – for myself and for others. I have also reflected much more on forgiveness – again, both for myself and for others.

It took me some time to initially walk through our Holy Door; to feel as though I were ready; worthy of the entrance. I didn’t want to rush through and have it be done, like a ticky box to b checked. I wanted to discern and meditate on what it meant, and perhaps that meant that I would never walk through the portal.

I’ve written before about how I did finally reach a moment to enter, and then a second moment. When our family went on a short holiday to Niagara Falls, I wanted to go to reconciliation and to enter through the Holy Door with prayer and reflection before our journey.

Niagara Falls is one of those places that I grew up visiting and loved as a child, and that I eventually shared with my husband and later with my oldest son. Now, I was going to share it with my two younger children, but I was also going to see the magnificent and powerful falls with new eyes; eyes that had been touched by G-d and by faith.

I had spent much of my year of mercy as a spiritual pilgrim, going to places that struck me as important on my journey. Sometimes that was as simple as sitting in Starbucks or outside on a bench with a cool breeze waving my hair around.

Sometimes, it was taking a week in the spring to visit some local historical places, taking my camera and my journal and discovering new things about the places, the people, and myself despite my lack of stamina.

I went to the Shrine of the North American Martyrs, wandering in the rain, praying, and just being in the stillness of such a place of faith.

I joined three ministries at church; things that I felt a calling to, in education, in adult faith formation, and in service. Time is short, but I’m working through the process of balancing it all. 

I went on two weekend and one four-week retreats that reenergized me, and my creative spirit was able to blend with my faithful spirit. It gave meaning to the Scriptures and the environment, and propelled me forward and given me strength.

My pilgrimage of writing has been equally in the forefront and as important as my spiritual pilgrimage. I am always on the path of a pilgrim, whether I write about it or not. It is who I am.

This year of mercy will remain with me much longer than the physical year.

50 – What Was I Thinking?!

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At the beginning of the year, I had this great idea for a series of posts. To celebrate turning 50 at the end of the year, I would post one reflection every week talking about the past fifty years in my life. Mostly anecdotes, memories that are always floating around in my head. I’ve posted similar ones before that I’ve tagged as “I remember” especially when my kids do something that reminds me of my childhood, like eating McDonald’s fries in the car or visiting Grandma, and you know the types of stories. Some would be longer than others, but they would all be meaningful to me, and hopefully encourage others to post and share their own memorable moments from their lives.

One a week was do-able and I’d have fifty by my birthday in December.

Well, here it is the end of summer and the early beginnings of fall. The kids are back in school, the choir is back at my church, I’m wearing my new fall jacket, and we actually went on a short vacation to Niagara Falls, both new family fun and memories come alive.

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Niagara Falls, as seen from the Canadian side, 2016 (c)

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I have posted ten of those fifty. Ten. With my birthday in less than twelve weeks, I can still make my goal of fifty by my birthday. I would have to post about three to four each week, but it can be done.

This has been a mostly successful year for writing despite falling off the motivational hamster wheel this summer, but I’m confident I can get this done. And getting this done is something that I not only want to do, I need to do it; for myself.

Setting goals and deadlines have always been issues for me. The anxiety kicks in and if I never finish it, it feels as though I can’t fail.

I hope you enjoy reading the forty remaining in the next eleven and a half weeks. I know I will enjoy writing them.

Stardate: 1-9-6-6-2-0-1-6.9.8

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Space…
The final frontier.
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise;
It’s five year mission:
To explore strange new worlds,
To seek out new life and new civilizations,
To boldly go…
Where no man has gone before.

These iconic words from Gene Roddenberry, brought to life by William Shatner have withstood the test of time.

Fifty years ago today, Star Trek began what would be its fifty-year and ongoing mission. Roddenberry’s vision for the future is still some way off, but I just saw a video on the realities of transparent aluminum, most of us use communicators in some fashion or another, and having a Black woman superior to us in the workplace is more common than 1966, although we could do better.

In 1966, it was somewhat controversial to have such a mixed race crew, let alone the actors who played them. While Jim Kirk was born in Iowa, Williams Shatner hails from Canada. He is still a Canadian citizen, and not a naturalized American. He, Leonard Nimoy, and Walter Koenig are all Jewish. Sulu and George Takei are Japanese. Nichelle Nichols was a Black woman. She and Shatner hold the first for an interracial kiss on television. Pavel Checkov’s character was a breakthrough especially during the space race of the 50s and the 60s. The idea of working with the Russians was nearly impossible to imagine then. And of course, Jimmy Doohan’s Scotty gave homage to the many Scotsmen and women who led the industrial revolution and got the engines running.

Even in today’s Kelvin timeline, not reboot (according to Mike and Denise Okuda), there is an homage given to the original cast as well as bringing the story into the 21st century for us moviegoers.

I’ve watched every iteration of Star Trek including reading the comic books, every new series (Deep Space Nine is my favorite after the original series), every movie, every animation. Wasn’t there a Star Trek meets Scooby Doo or am I imagining that? Somewhere in the depths of my basement boxes is a photojournal of Trouble with Tribbles that I had once memorized. I learned Klingon as a young adult, and went to conventions so long ago that there were no charges for photos or autographs.

Reflecting on 50 years of science fiction, watching it intersect with science fact, sitting in the captain’s chair at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, and forging our own new worlds through our own inspiration to write and world-build.

Star Trek is many things to many people. I have been a fan my whole life, and will continue to be into the next half century and beyond.

Happy Birthday, Star Trek!
And many more to come.
The stories yet to be told are out there, and I for one, can’t wait.

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US Postal Stamps, issued 2016

50-9 – Shea Stadium

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I mentioned in my last “50” that there was a Shea Stadium reflection. It still bothers me to this day. In fact, it  thirty-nine years ago today that it happened. Wow. Thirty-nine years. I guess I really can hold a grudge.

We had tickets to see the NY Mets play at Shea. It must have been ’77 and it was just me and my Dad. I have no recollection of who they were supposed to play. I don’t know if this was my first visit. I can remember other games, at least one, filling out the scorecard, reading the program, eating snacks. I probably still have the program in one of my boxes piled in the basement.

This day, however was July and there was a city-wide blackout that affected everything. Maybe you’ve heard about it. We must have driven; I don’t think the trains were running. How could they be?

By the time we arrived at the stadium, the decision to call the game had already been made. The stadium was mostly empty and my Dad and I walked around the cement concourse. Whatever vendors were there were already packing up. We looked down on the empty field and across; the perfect blue sky seeming much brighter from our shadowed place. The grass on the field also seemed somehow greener, brighter than normal or maybe I was seeing it through a ten year old’s eyes.

The reason they gave for cancelling (or maybe postponing) the game was that the scoreboard didn’t work, so they couldn’t hold the game. To this day, it still makes no sense to me. I mean it’s baseball. Do you really need electricity to play ball? It wasn’t even a night game. The scoreboard doesn’t work. Even my ten year old, polite, non-swearing self called bullshit on that one.

We never got back; not that I recall.

Whether it was our moving east to Long Island or my moving to ice hockey as my go-to sport (Rangers all the way!), I don’t know.

I still love the Mets and root for them always. My Dad grew up in the Bronx so his Mets affiliation was probably more for us kids than for his own feelings. You couldn’t like both, but we tried. He was such a good Dad. More than that, he was a good person. I hope I’m half as good as he was.

For now, though, Let’s Go Mets!

50-7 – Sick. Bleh.

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In Food, posted Monday, I mentioned eating sweet potatoes when I was sick. The truth is I was almost never sick. I had the chicken pox like everyone of my generation and got a week off from school, staring out of the front window of our apartment with my brother who also had them that week. But I was never sick. I didn’t get colds, no ear infections. While my friends were out sick, I was always in school. I did miss senior skip day and I never went to class in college (or work later on) on my birthday and while I always worked Christmas, I never worked New Year’s. I also never called in because of having too much to drink.

So I was completely stunned when in my 20s, working for a child development center for the US Navy, I got an ear infection. Having never had one before I had no idea what it was except that I was certain that I was dying. The pain was unbearable. I tried to lie down to make it stop, not realizing that is pretty much the worst thing you can do for an ear infection. When I finally got diagnosed and on antibiotics, I thanked G-d for science and medicine and medical advances that would remove that pain.

Since then, I have had a few more ear infections, chronic ringing in my ears (thanks Stray Cats) and hearing loss (again, thank SC), but I still never really get sick.

My second pregnancy.

One or two bouts of food poisoning and a couple of flus, all after my kids were born. Kids wear you down. They really do.

I am pro-vaccine. I feel the need to say that in this world of maybe science doesn’t work, but science does work and vaccines save lives. I have the mark on my left shoulder from the small pox vaccine that my kids will never get because we eradicated it and no longer need a small pox vaccine in this country. I went to Jonas E. Salk Middle School, named for the man who discovered the vaccine against polio, a disease that killed our thirty-second president.

On Monday, I had my yearly physical, complete with a tetanus booster. I moaned in that childlike way of no like shots, but I took it and there was no doubt that I would.

It hurt for that split second and I went about my day, getting my hair cut, eating lunch which fit into my new prescribed diet (except for the diet coke which so far is the last one I’ve had). I watched Major Crimes. I slept and got up on Tuesday and went grocery shopping. I felt great.

Then I felt fine.

then I was achey and whiney, and my head was throbbing and I had a fever, but I was so cold that I needed a blanket and then another. I fell asleep in my office chair, which is an overstuffed living room chair.

I barely ate dinner. My eyes hurt (which is why I haven’t been here as often as I had planned), even as I listened to Containment on the television.

Wednesday was slightly better but not by much.

On Thursday, I was able to leave my bed, eat lunch and go to my meeting for the day of service for my church. I’m the secretary.

I will be calling the doctor today, although I should have called on Wednesday morning. I have never had a reaction to a vaccine before. Obviously, this is better than getting any of the things the Tdap prevents, but it was still pretty miserable.

I couldn’t even watch television which is usually very comforting when I ‘m not feeling well. Sweet potatoes and the blue glow of the television used to be the only medicine I needed.

Take your shots kids (and adults) and have some extra water, fruit, Netflix, wifi, and of course, sweet potatoes on hand. Just in case.

50-6 – Sundae with The Mets

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When I was a kid, we lived in Queens. I would describe it as in the shadow of Shea Stadium, but we really lived nowhere near Flushing Meadow. I loved the Mets. I was once supposed to go to a game, but that is another reflection for another time.

One of the things that was a big thing that I haven’t seen in upstate New York where we live now is Carvel ice cream. They were everywhere when I was a kid, and of course, the commercials with Tom Carvel.

Wednesday is Sundae at Carvel.

We would go every Wednesday for buy one sundae, get one free. My mother always got a black cherry sundae with extra cherries. I never appreciated the extra cherries until I was older. Maraschino cherries are the best.

Carvel used to have sundaes in a Mets helmet cup. They would put the vanilla soft serve in the plastic cap and you would go over to the sundae bar and add in your toppings: hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles were my thing. Although now I prefer caramel, an occasional hot fudge brings back so many memories of childhood summers. And springs, falls, and winters. We ate (and continue to eat) ice cream all year long.

We were in a local Stewart’s shop and my husband got me a bowl of ice cream in a Mets cap. I was so excited. I hadn’t had one of these since I was little. My daughter had a Yankees cap. I don’t think we were ever offered a Yankees cap in Queens.

It wasn’t a sundae, just a scoop, but I did pour on the rainbow sprinkles like always.

I ate it slow, letting some of the melted cream puddle in the bottom so I could drink from the brim. It was a memory come to life. I think the ice cream tasted better, too.

Reflection on the Art

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The third week came faster than I expected. I was running late, flustered, settling my crap, grabbing my tea, dropping my keys, but once I sat in the circle it all went away.

Calmness overtook everything.

Despite my backache and my knee being difficult, I sunk into the chair, and all that was there from that moment on was the group of women and the Gospel women from our readings.

I am loving the collages. I didn’t even realize that I focused on the woman who anoints Jesus until I started talking about my design and the addition of the tea.

Since I’ve done two collages already with the reddish-brown board, so I’ve already decided to use the same board for my third and final art thingy.

I can kind of envision them set up 1-2-3 in a row in my office. I do need to redo. my mantle so these may fit in with that opportunity.

In looking at the two side by side, I am already planning some aspects of next week’s art.

The readings are Martha and Mary (Luke 10:38-42) and the Women at the Foot of the Cross (John 19:25-30). My mind has already gone to the women at the cross. The women are always present. The disciples are in hiding but not the women. Part of that reaon is that women are invisible. They are not thought of as a threat or of any kind of importance and so they are ignored.

More importantly, though, they are witnessed. They are the ones to tell the story; the history of the Christ. His Mother Mary gave him life, and Mary Magdalene was the first to see him after the Resurrection and was the one to carry the story to the disciples.

They are the storytellers, like I am with my writing.

It hit me while I was eating lunch after the third week’s group that my boards are connected through my writing and the last reading – the women at the cross – the storytellers are the beginnings of writing – the oral storytellers that pass it down for generations until someone finally wrote it down.

In addition to the reddish board, I’m thinking of using the yellow ribbon, a feather to make a quill and possibly another black and yellow butterfly wing to tie all three boards together.

I will definitely share it next week after our last session.

Continue reading

Bow, Daffodil, and Keys

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I’m pretty happy with my project for this second week, but not as pleased as how my first one came out. As I said to Sister Sue this morning, last week’s project was perfect. Everything just came together the way it was meant to, and I continued all week to look at it, and enjoy the connection I had with the board. This one has different elements that ended up relating back to the scripture of the woman who anoints Jesus.

I hadn’t realized it at first, but it is funny how these things work out. I approached the materials with a blank mind; a blank slate. I looked at the items and took what struck my fancy. I wasn’t avoiding anything except maybe the Scrabble tiles. Those give a certain distinction to last week’s board as did the puzzle pieces, which I also avoided.

Everything else was fair game.

We begin in the circle and think back on the readings, discuss a little, and then go immerse ourselves in the materials and see what turns up. What I really noticed today more than last week was the quiet, although I’m sure it was there then as well. There were a few whisperings, a few requests to pass the glue or glue stick, but for the most part, we each spend the time in our own space, choosing our items, and putting them on our boards. As I’ve said before, I like to gather my items and then lay them out on the board, getting a feel for what I’m called to do.

One of the things that I recalled about the woman who anoints Jesus is how independent she was. She didn’t ask permission, either from him or any of the others in the house. She broke open the jar and poured out the oil. When she is admonished for wasting the oil and losing the possible income from it, Jesus defends her. He declares that we will remember her for what she has done this day. It is one of the only times that he talks about remembering someone other than himself.

In my mind, she might have cared what Jesus thought, but she definitely didn’t care what any of the others did. She did what needed to be done at that moment.

That is so often a woman’s prerogative; her thing. We just do. And consequently, it gets done. With apologies to Lin-Manuel Miranda, Women, we get the job done.

1. When I began at the first materials table, I planned on only two things: the yellow border and the green rope with beads. Unfortunately, the rope was too thick to slide the beads on, so I had to use a narrower ribbon. My intention was to line the beads, and then attach the rope to be the same length. It turned out that I had cut off too many ends to get the ribbon threaded through, so the rope ended up a bit longer than the ribbon. When I laid it horizontally, it made a smiley face. I did not want a smiley face and I was disappointed and running out of time since I had spent so much threading five effin’ beads!
I turned it ninety degrees, and immediately noticed it made a bow shape. Again with a bow and archery. Sister Sue commented on the change of perspective, and I mentioned that I’m a Sagittarius so bows are kind of my thing.

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2. From that point I had already taken the two feathers and wanted them crossed. They don’t glue well, so I stapled them and then added the green straw on top to hide the staples. The straw is not as nice as I would have liked.

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3. The old-fashioned Corona typewriter was the perfect picture. I found it in a furniture catalog, and I put the tilted frame around it. I also added a table top organizer which also came from that furniture catalog with mail sticking out, flowers, and with a clock attached. These are some of the things I try to have in my own corner office despite the differences in picture aesthetics and three-dimensional.

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4. Originally inside the tilted frame, I took out the wooden flower box of daffodils. They are my favorite flower, and remind me of my spiritual home of Wales.

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5. Again, the butterfly wings are for my mother. One wing is the same one I used in the first board, and I plan on using it again if I can find the same one for next week. The green wing was simply because it was green.

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6. I added the fabric for no reason other than that they were flowers and for another variety of texture.

7. At this point it was complete, but there was still something missing. I couldn’t figure out what that was when it suddenly hit me: tea! I ran to the retreat center’s kitchen and grabbed one tea bag, opened it up, and sprinkled it on the glue. I patted it down, and shook the excess off. That caused the bow to fall off, and the straw to move around but nothing that couldn’t be corrected. Once that was fixed it was ready for the circle.

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**While we were talking about which reading spoke to us, I talked a bit about not thinking about any of them, but the strong woman who anoints Jesus really called out to my subconscious. It wasn’t until at the end, when I was wiping away the excess tea that I related the tea to the expensive oil. Some could say that I wasted the tea – it is both a food and emotional sustenance as well as an expensive commodity, exotic in some places, everyday in others, and the same could be said for the expensive oil that the woman breaks open for Jesus.

Some things are worth the time and the money expended, and when it is time for those things, we will know it.

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Tomorrow: Some thoughts in preview of next week’s readings.

Gospel Women – Week 3

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Today is the third week of the retreat workshop/contemplation/art commune that I’ve been taking. We spend the week reading and thinking about the two women, and then after a short discussion, we art.

I’d like to share with you the readings for anyone that was interested in doing this at home.

The first woman of the Gospel is the woman caught in adultery. The reading can be found at John 8:1-11.

Our second woman is the woman who anoints Jesus in Bethany. That Scripture can be found at Mark 14:3-9.

Later this afternoon or tomorrow, I’ll share what  came about in today’s hands-on portion.

What Ihave found in the past two weeks and four readings thus far is that we can not only see ourselves in these Gospel women, but often we see the women around us, who encourage us to look at things a little differently and who love and support us. I can only hope to be one of those women to someone else.