Friday, September 12, 2014
I'm grateful for this prompt today. Birthing the sermon, preparing for a wedding, meeting with a family whose two young children will be baptized on Sunday have all conspired to drain me of creativity for blogging. Thanks, RevGalBlogPals, for this prompt! Random Friday Five is back! 1. If you could sneak away anywhere this weekend, right now, all expenses paid, where would you go and what would you do? Anywhere? Really? No surprise, I'd go to the beach. Anyone can come with me, puppies included. We will walk on the beach. We will eat snacks. We will take naps. It will be wonderful. 2. What is for lunch today? Shoot. Missed it. 3. Along that first-FF-I-ever-played theme, what are you wearing today? Black jjill dress, cardigan, black & white infinity scarf, fitflops. #shoefail. 4. Along the Today Theme, what are you doing today? See above + a ridiculously fun church staff outing to a fundraiser for our Cuban partner congregation. Viva Cuba! 5. Along the random theme, what is your favorite scent, and why? How fun! I just discovered Demeter, the fragrance company that turns human beings into Yankee candles, thanks to their interesting, "lifelike" scents. My first order came today. My favorite: "Salt air". See you at the beach!
Thursday, September 11, 2014
I'm clearly not yet back into the rhythm of blogging regularly, but I want to get there. I'm giving some serious thought to returning to Julia Cameron's wonderful practice of "morning pages" that she outlines in The Artist's Way. I had a wonderful time writing those pages, once upon a time. Then I moved to the website called 750words.com, which was great, and I think I shrunk back into a non-blogging hole. I love reading other people's blogs, but when I consider why I don't blog, I think it's about self-consciousness. I'm not persuaded that I have anything worthwhile to offer. I'm very shy about anything that seems like self-promotion. I admire it in others, but can't seem to get there myself. So, what about today, this day that God has made? On this day, which is overcast and chilly here in Chicago, in contrast to the cloudless, warm, beautiful day it was thirteen years ago when the beauty of the morning changed so abruptly, I think it's wise to pause and be still; to remember and be so grateful for the helpers, as Mr. Rogers is famous for having said. To be mindful that we have such a long, long road to peace and understanding in our world, and to commit ourselves again to the gift and the challenge of being peacemakers.
Friday, August 8, 2014
I wish I could blog about all of the random things that happened today, and it's only 7:00 p.m. There's more time for more random things to happen. It's all pretty much unbloggable, but some of it is funny, including the wanderer who entered the building first thing this morning and proceeded to scope out the place (we found some electronic equipment "fingered")but not before he stopped to use the bathroom. Really? I went to a colleague's farewell reception today, only to discover that I was slated to speak at the formal program prior. Didn't have a clue, and arrived in more casual clothes (but not jeans). Seriously. Had a whole bunch of random encounters today, including someone who was looking for a house, not a workplace, asked if I was "Charlotte" and then showed me a piece of paper with a name and address that was not far away, but not near, however the person's name was not Charlotte. Okay..... Had two cell phone missed calls this afternoon; one was from Jamaica, and while I was trying to reverse lookup the other number, my landline rang and it was my son, calling from that number. He thinks he sprained his ankle because half (???) of the power is off in his apartment and he tripped and rolled his ankle. I'm not sure why he called, because he was already elevating and icing it. I could add no further wisdom, except anti-inflammatories. Sigh.... Two long distance requests for recipes needed soon, strange paraphernalia in the yard, a dog with a drippy eye, and all of the usual spinning and symptoms and complaints at the manse. Now I'm sitting at the church waiting for the terrific Properties elder to come and see about the text he received from another church employee that there's a leak in the hydraulic room for the elevator. It sounds like an intermittent version of the Rainforest Café. This day isn't over. Random count: easily a dozen random things. I have no pithy way to connect this to Jesus or the Church or anything. It's just random. Enough of that. flikr photo by MTSOfan
Thursday, August 7, 2014
I have not blogged here in over a year. Today feels like a good day to begin again, as with so many things. I'm a big fan of Jennifer Boykin, whose work with women and resilience really speaks to my heart. I'm hard at work at getting unstuck: thinking about and being intentional about taking better care of myself so that I can be strong and creative and thoughtful in every area of my life. I think Facebook took up the time that I used to spend reading others' blogs and blogging occasionally myself. Facebook is great, but as one friend wrote, "it's like passing notes in the hallway at school." (Thanks for that image, Katherine Willis Pershey.) I think I'm at a time in my life where I need a little more conversation....a cup of coffee and some musing about books and art and joy. Maybe writing here will help with that. I hardly remember how to add links and photos. Time to try. Time to get back on this reflective horse. Flickr photo by Andy Allan.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Friday, May 11, 2012
I love Timothy Egan's writing. His book, The Worst Hard Time, is a remarkable portrayal of the Dust Bowl. This piece from the NY Times tugged at me. My maternal grandmother was born on May 11, 1906. She was a feisty person who loved baseball, politics and good food. My mother did, too. New Yorkers both, my mother and grandmother were passionate women with twinkly eyes and no shortage of opinions on a variety of topics. I was raised by both women and most days, I am the better for having been the recipient of so much love and spunk and wisdom. If apples don't fall far from trees, I am an apple. I am their kin. I am my grandmother and my mother. It has been thirty five years since I've lived in New York. I've been very influenced by the decade I lived in North Carolina and the nearly two decades that I've lived in the Midwest. I still talk fast and walk quickly, but I am a softer version of my New York matriarchs. Over the years, people important to me who did not know my family of origin have called me "fiercely loyal" and "intellectually honest." I treasure those labels because I value what they stand for and they link me with my foremothers, because they were, too. I like that. Timothy Eagan writes that our mothers are the "scrapbooks of our enthusiasms." I like that, too. And I am grateful that, though it has been thirty years since my grandmother's death and only four since my mom's, I am the scrapbook of theirs.