2023 Word of the Year

Even before I knew it was a thing to do, I unofficially chose a word as my focus for many years. A word seemed to stick better than an empty resolution that faded as quickly as it was announced. Several years ago, I made the move to officially contemplate and name the word. A few weeks ago, I researched my memories, journals and calendars and noted as many of the past words as I could just so I could keep an ongoing a record. It was surprising to see how memories of certain events helped me to remember the word for certain years. One November, I bought a plate with the inscription, “until further notice, celebrate everything” which became my mantra for the following year. Two years (the year I lost my joy and the year I was struggling to keep my joy) my word became joy. The year I married my sweetheart, love seemed the obvious choice. 

Some years, I thought I knew why I was choosing a word but the true meaning became apparent as the year progressed. In late 2019, for example, I would have no idea how much change, uncertainty, and worldwide trauma would require me to embrace long hours of finding new ways to be a community of faith, mask wearing, Zoom meetings, etc. in 2020.

I guess it was no surprise after I lost three people very dear to me in 2021, that I would choose connection as my word for 2022. Even so, I had no idea that Michael would resign from his position in Carrollton a few weeks later and we would end up moving back to the Alabama Gulf Coast near so many friends and two of the three sons we have between us. As I reflected on the past year and pondered what word was calling for 2023, I realized that for some reason I have felt disjointed this past year. Yes, we moved “home” and yes, Michael is serving as interim to a delightfully sweet congregation and yes, it was a good year but… there were things I hoped to complete last year that are still hanging over my head. I’m not certain if connection was the “right” word for last year…or maybe it was was got me through a year full of changes and unknowns…or maybe (I am certain this is true) words of the year are not meant to be magic wands that make a person whole but rather a guide through the messiness of life, a mantra to help us focus.

Our sweet kitty Stella on the day she rescued us. Now that is a connection!
March 2022

With that in mind, I have chosen a word for 2023. I struggled with finding a word this year and I kept a growing list of possibilities. Centered? Intentional?  Aware? Creativity? Stillness? Balance? Unforced? I finally erased all but unforced and settled on it, or so I thought. The word comes from The Message Translation of Matthew 11: 28-30 Are you tired? Worn out?…Learn the unforced rhythms of grace…Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. The word unforced really speaks to me, yet last night as we awaited the coming of the New Year I realized that the word unforced seemed somehow forced. I fell asleep not knowing what my word should be. When I awoke this morning I still could not settle on a word but I remembered that each time I envisioned the word unforced I would see myself floating. And it came to me!

I Googled the word flow. Flow focuses your attention on what is important and positive. Flow means to move along slowly and steadily in one direction, a smooth uninterrupted movement or progress. Flow is also a state where a person is so fully immersed in an activity that all else disappears and you experience an intense engagement, focus, and contentment in the present moment and current activity. I want to be more centered and balanced. I have a longing to be more creative, to write, paint, and cook more. I need to focus on closing out my dad’s estate. All of the words I had played with as having potential to be my word (but weren’t enough to encapsulate the fullness) seem to fit perfectly into flow. Now, I fully understand that focusing on the word flow will not get me there but I do believe it is a good beginning. 

Setting Intentions for 2021

Every January 1 people from all over the world celebrate as they welcome the new year. Here in the southern US people eat black eyed peas, greens, and cornbread for luck and prosperity. In Spain they eat 12 grapes as the New Year chimes-one grape for each month; soba noodles symbolize a crossing over and letting go of regrets in Japan; lentils bring luck and prosperity to Italians; twelve round fruits are served in the Philippians to bring prosperity; wearing white is hoped to bring good luck and peace in Brazil; and in some parts of upstate New York folks break a peppermint pig with a small hammer (https://www.saratogasweets.com/peppermint-pig/) in hopes of a good New Year. 

January 1 (and the days surrounding it) is certainly a time of introspection for most people…looking back at last year and looking forward to the new one. This looking forward is almost always paired with a deep sense of hope. This year is certainly no different. It is no coincidence that the month January was named after the Roman god Janus. Janus is depicted with two faces, one facing forward and the other backward; one to the future, the other to the past. The name Janus is derived from the latin word ianus meaning door and this mythological figure  was the god of doorways, thresholds, transitions, beginnings and endings. 

This January, perhaps more than any other, I am thrilled to say goodbye to the old and welcome the new! Each January, for years, I have chosen a word of intention for the year. Even in the years prior, where I chose a New Year’s Resolution, the main idea stated in a simple word was what I ended up carrying with me throughout the year. The year I decided to be a bit less serious and a source of a bit more fun for my kids, the word laughter was the mantra that kept me focused on the task. So even then when I didn’t realize it, a word was carrying me forward.

Last year my word was embrace. Little did I know when I chose it (although I think it was chosen for me), there would be much to embrace during 2020. I am a pretty structured person. I always say that I can be spontaneous all day long…if I plan to be! No doubt, 2020 was a year where plans were turned upside down and thrown out, where structures we trusted seemed to crumble around us, and everything changed. It turns out that embracing whatever unexpected thing came before me helped me to stay calm in the midst of so much uncertainty. It seems like the year had not even begun when life as I knew it halted. I found myself embracing a 90 hour work week (as an unpaid volunteer), learning new technology, reimagining what worship looked like, figuring out ways to stay connected with loved ones far away who I didn’t know when I would be able to hug again, wearing a mask, and moving across the country to a new state and a new church family. We even had three weeks where we had to embrace being nomads. When we arrived in Georgia, the temporary apartment we thought we had secured fell through and we had no place to live. Luckily, good friends embraced us and offered us a bed and meals. It seems that embrace was the word I needed last year.

A few weeks ago I began to contemplate a word for 2021. As I said before, I don’t really think I choose the word. It is more like searching deep within to find the word that is being given to me. One evening while I was searching the internet for Christmas gifts, I came across my word. There was no denying it. I tried to because it is a bit different from words of past years. It’s a very broad word. Nevertheless, I knew it was my word. Since then I have been mulling it over in my head, curious as to why this would be the word that jumped up and grabbed my soul. 

Be…my word for 2021 is be. First I imagined it might mean “be still”; Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10. Then I began thinking of all the things I could be…be loving, be kind, be a bridge, be my best, be encouraging, be organized, be prayerful, be an activist, be flexible, be brave…be intentional. Just what am I supposed to be? Or am I supposed to be all of these? (I have been known to put unrealistic goals upon myself in the past.) These are all good goals but loving, kindness, etc were not the word for 20121. It was simply “be’.

All of a sudden, it all clicked! The Creation narrative in Genesis tells us that Adam and Eve, representing all of humanity were created in the image of God, Imago Dei. And who is God? When Moses saw the burning bush and went to investigate. God spoke to Moses and told him that Moses should free the people of Israel because their cries had been heard. Moses asked, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ What shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I AM who I AM.” In the Bible, God has many names but the one that God uses for God is I AM, or I will be who I will be. Am, after all, comes from word to be. This reminder helped me to understand the depth of my word for 2021.

It is a reminder that I am not only a beloved child of the Creator but someone (like all humanity) who was created in the image of God. Does this mean I am just like God? No, an image is something that reflects the likeness of someone or something. This year which is beginning with people still dying in mass from Covid-19, where there is still much uncertainty, where people are divided over many issues and civility seems to be lost, my word is reminder to me to show a different way…to be love…to be kind…to be just and merciful…my job is to be intentional about looking deep within to unleash the Imago Dei that I was created to be.

May it be so…

Thoughts From a Weary Soul

Nine weeks ago we turned over the keys to the new  owners of our beautiful mountain condo. Two weeks prior to that, we watched as the movers loaded the last bit of goods into the back of the truck, for umteenth time said our last tearful goodbyes to dear friends, and headed down the canyon. As I drove out of Estes Park I imagined friends visiting us in Georgia and returning to Estes for visits with our peeps and hikes in our beloved Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). 

Never in my imagination did I consider that my heart would be so heavy today. As dear ones sit in hotel rooms, rentals. and the homes of friends and family across the  front range the wildfire looms, high winds roar, and many folks pray for the unique mountain community where the elk roam through the streets.

There is hope. Many, many brave firefighters are working across Colorado to contain the fire. (Estes Park is only one of several communities threatened and evacuated due to fires.) And snow is predicted! A big snow is predicted…tomorrow! 

 It won’t put the fire out but it will certainly help with containment. 

I am at a loss for what to do. I can’t stop checking the newsfeeds and messages from friends. One friend, mentioned that, hopefully, all the fire mitigation work volunteers have been doing in the Park will help slow the spread. Did you know that the RMNP has enough volunteers to make up the work of 40 full time employees? That is just amazing! The work that some of these dedicated volunteers have done may help to save their own home and the home of neighbors. 

This leads me to think about the delicate balance of nature. Having grown up in the humid Southeast, I had never contemplated how vital water is to the western states. Too much and you face flooding like Estes Park had in 2013. In fact, the area has had three hundred year floods in the last 50 years! Not enough precipitation and fire hazards become a reality. Part of this is just the way nature works but just as the mitigation work may help to contain the fire, the way we abuse our beautiful earth adds to the problem. When nature is designed with such a delicate balance any little thing we do to cause unbalance is critical. 

We have been so worried about our friends in Colorado and trying to figure out just what we can do to help. Prayer, of course, is the one thing we have been doing. It did occur to me that another way to help is to take an inventory of my practices. How can I help reverse the damage I am doing?

A Noticing Walk

 She spoke to me the instant I walked onto the porch. She called, “Pick me!” And I knew that she was indeed the Divine drawing me. How many times have I walked past her without even paying notice through the years? How many times had I stopped to smile or remember? Not nearly as many. But today, I heard her; I felt her calling to my very being. I don’t remember when her first wing broke, but in my mind it didn’t matter. She was still my beautiful angel. But when I walked out onto the porch after the movers had placed her there last weekend and her other wing was broken, for a brief moment I thought she was lost to us. Could I get away with an angel with no wings? Was it just too tacky for my front door? But when I placed the broken tip gingerly above her shoulder, I knew my broken angel was still in the spot she needed to be. 

She reminds me that there is holiness all around me. She reminds me that we are all broken and battered but that brokenness does not diminish our beauty. I am finally beginning to feel settled after two long months of wandering. She is a reminder of God’s faithfulness, of God’s steadfast presence, and how even as God weaves new rows and new patterns into my life’s tapestry, there remains a continuity. No matter what threshold I approach, wherever God leads God is already there to welcome me; waved goodbye as I left Colorado, and traveled with me on the journey. 

Lent: A Journey Inward

I woke up yesterday morning pondering the significance of Ash Wednesday and wondering how I should plan my Lenten journey. Each year I try to focus on something during Lent. In the past I have given up things (like junk food, caffeine, and negative comments); other years I added a new habit (like a devotional, prayer walks, and journaling). The last few weeks leading up to Lent this year have been a bit of a struggle for me as I kept coming up with ideas of practices that might be restorative to my soul but I just couldn’t decide which to do. Time was running out if I wanted a Lenten practice for 2020.

As I thought about how to journey through this Holy Season, (Actually, I question using the phrase Holy Season as I truly believe that every day is holy and all of life a continuous series of Holy Seasons.) the idea of a journey kept coming back. This naturally reminded me of a labyrinth, one of my favorite ways to pray through a problem. In January, we went to workshop at The Refuge in Broomfield, CO put on by Christine Sine centered around her newest book The Gift of Wonder: Creative Practices for Delighting In God (which I highly recommend). During this workshop Christine taught us an easy way to draw a labyrinth and invited us to make one using glue and colored sand.

I pulled out my colorful labyrinth to trace the steps with my fingers as I prayed for guidance but before I even began to pray, I had an idea. Combining Ash Wednesday with a Burning Bowl Ceremony seemed to be a perfect way to focus myself. I got slips of paper and began to write a sin, a regret, a fault, a worry, or a fear of mine on each piece. I had originally planned to also write hopes offering them up in trust to God but I realized that my hopes were already represented through my fears and worries. We fear and worry that what we hope for will not be.  Some slips were left intentionally blank to include those deepest sorrows/fears/sins that I cannot even grasp. Others were untouched to represent what may come in the next 40 days. I placed a white (Christ) candle in a bowl, lit it and slowly and prayerfully burnt each paper. As the paper wilted into ashes and the smoke rose as a sacrifice of devotion and trust my soul was overcome with peace and Love.

Green symbolizes life, renewal, and Easter hope so it seemed the perfect backdrop for the labyrinth I was about to make from the ashes. Praying the labyrinth would be my practice each day during the Lenten season.

This morning in our morning prayer time Michael and I began by reading a devotional based on Psalm 51: 4-6. Verse 6 drew my attention: You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart. My secret heart…that knows what was written on the papers I had to leave blank…the place that I journey towards in Centering Prayer and every now and then catch a glorious glimpse…seems somehow connected to the center of a labyrinth. It is a place to rest before turning outward to realities of the world around me. But is is also a place that goes with me into that world…a place that transforms. As I leave a labyrinth, I always notice a lightness and spring in my steps and a confidence in what lies ahead. I return to the world a new person…stronger and carrying the stillness of the center within me. Aware of God and beauty and delight in a new way, life becomes infused with Energy and Love.

I think the Psalmist fell short in his petition for truth in his inner being and wisdom in his secret heart. Certainly, truth and wisdom are good but I want more. Julian of Norwich in Revelations of Divine Love spoke of truth and wisdom. “Truth sees God, and wisdom contemplates God, and from these two comes a third, a holy and wonderful delight in God, who is love.” That is my goal for this Lenten season and beyond…to embody a holy and wonderful delight in God, who is love. That is also my prayer for each of you.

Civil Rights…What Difference Can I Make? – Godspacelight

Civil Rights…What Difference Can I Make? – Godspacelight
— Read on godspacelight.com/2020/01/24/civil-rightswhat-difference-can-i-make/

Home By another Way

The past several days I have been thinking about Epiphany and what I am bringing to Jesus this new year. Michael preached about this very thing and encouraged us to bring our fears and despair along with our hopes and gifts. Bring our whole selves to Jesus, he encouraged. But honestly, it’s not what I bring that keeps circulating through my mind… it is the words “home by a different way.” The wise men went home by a different way. Years ago I took my amazing youth group to Montreat Youth Conference to a conference entitled “Homes By Another Way” based on this scripture. These words have echoed my mind on and off for years.

This week, I have taken the time to consider them. What does it mean to me, in this moment, that the wise men encountered Jesus and went home by a different way?

For starters, I wonder what my encounters with Jesus compels me to do. How often is anger or judgement my reflex. How often do I respond to others with judgement? But then Jesus reminds me. Jesus reminds me that love should be my first response. How often do I look at my situation with despair… until Jesus reminds me of the hope I have in him.

There is always another response. There is always another way. Because I have knelt at the feet of the Prince of Peace… because I have felt the mercy of God… because Christ is Christ and God is Love…, I am always left unsettled when I respond in anger or judgement or even hurt feelings. Being a disciple of Jesus means that I have no choice but to look for the Divine in others; it means that if my first response isn’t a response off love then I should choose another road to travel.

Like the Wise Men who were drawn to the King is Kings, Good has drawn me. Just like the Wise Men who kneel at the humble infant God, I worship the One who chose to humble himself to enter this complicated world and die on a cross and that realization has changed me forever. That encounter always, continually moves me to a deep desire to please my Creator and to see all off humanity, all of creation as God’s beloved. When I respond any way other than this, there is no question that I am on the wrong road and I must find another way home.

Morning prayer

Good morning…

Today’s sunrise reminds me that God’s mercies are new every morning…that time does not stand still and change is inevitable…but God’s love and care are steadfast.

Lord, for this day I give you thanks. For aging parents, I give you thanks. For change, even when it is difficult, I give you thanks. And for who You are…I give you thanks. Let it be so.

Not Ready To Feast With Jesus and Not Ready For Jesus To Die – A Maundy Thursday Reflection

Tonight I will attend the Maundy Thursday service at our church, Presbyterian Community Church of the Rockies where I will help my husband (the awesome pastor) serve communion to our congregation.  I usually embrace Holy Week services.  I usually look forward to celebrating communion on the night we remember Jesus serving his disciples the Passover meal.  Usually…but not this year.  This year I feel empty.  This year I don’t want to think about Jesus dying and I don’t want to remember his last meal with his peeps.

To feast with Jesus tonight means that tomorrow he must die. And to be honest, I am just not ready for another death.  I’ve had enough! It all began in August when we had two dearly loved members of our congregation die on the same day…followed by one after another after another the following months. I know as a Christian we celebrate the life and resurrection of our loved ones but it’s still hard.

Then in November I lost my lovely mother-in-law Shirley to a subdural hematoma and only two weeks ago I said goodbye to my own sweet mom. Too much death!! Too much!!

So this afternoon I feel empty as if I am going through the motions of Holy Week.  Tonight I will go to “celebrate” communion when I just don’t feel like celebrating.  I wonder if that is how Jesus felt that night as he washed the feet of the ones he loved (even the one who would betray him with a kiss a few hours later).

The Passover meal begins with the blessing of the wine, the Kiddush Blessing which includes the words  In Your love, Our God, You have given us feasts of gladness and seasons of joy…You have chosen us from all peoples, consecrating us to your service, giving us the Festivals, a time of gladness and joy.  Was this what Jesus said as he took the wine and blessed it?  Feasts of gladness and seasons of joy?  On the night of his arrest? Did he mean it with every bit of his heart or was it a struggle that required him to reach deep within?  Could he really embrace this Passover Feast with joy and gladness?

But then I remember the week I spent in the hospital with my mom in mid-February and the night I snuggled with her the last night she was responsive.  I look back on that time as a feast of gladness and a season of joy.  That time together, even though it was hard, was a precious gift to me. Perhaps Jesus cherished this meal as a beautiful gift.

So tonight I will go to church and try to do more than go through the motions.  I will feast on the Body and Blood of my Savior with gladness under the dark umbrella of death.  I guess this is probably what Christ did as well.  It couldn’t have been easy for him.

While I was in Alabama with my family prior to my mom’s passing I went to church…my church…the one that taught me that I am God’s beloved.  As I sat through worship I found myself (like always) drawn to the stained glass window behind the pulpit.  In that window Jesus kneels in the garden and prays.  Scripture tells me that he asks if any way possible for the cup to be taken from him.  Then he prays for me and for you.  I have never been able to look at that window without my heart breaking for him, trying to imagine how he must feel, and being overwhelmed with his love for me.  He knows that death is imminent but not until the betray and suffering come. Still…he loves.

To be honest, I am not ready for Good Friday to come either.  There has been to much death and I can’t make myself imagine the One who is Love on the cross even though I know that Easter is coming…even though I know that my loved ones are in the arms of Jesus.  Even though…I am just not ready.  And I am pretty sure Jesus wasn’t either!

Not Ready To Feast With Jesus and Not Ready For Jesus To Die – A Maundy Thursday Reflection

Tonight I will attend the Maundy Thursday service at our church, Presbyterian Community Church of the Rockies where I will help my husband (the awesome pastor) serve communion to our congregation.  I usually embrace Holy Week services.  I usually look forward to celebrating communion on the night we remember Jesus serving his disciples the Passover meal.  Usually…but not this year.  This year I feel empty.  This year I don’t want to think about Jesus dying and I don’t want to remember his last meal with his peeps.

To feast with Jesus tonight means that tomorrow he must die. And to be honest, I am just not ready for another death.  I’ve had enough! It all began in August when we had two dearly loved members of our congregation die on the same day…followed by one after another after another the following months. I know as a Christian we celebrate the life and resurrection of our loved ones but it’s still hard.

Then in November I lost my lovely mother-in-law Shirley to a subdural hematoma and only two weeks ago I said goodbye to my own sweet mom. Too much death!! Too much!!

So this afternoon I feel empty as if I am going through the motions of Holy Week.  Tonight I will go to “celebrate” communion when I just don’t feel like celebrating.  I wonder if that is how Jesus felt that night as he washed the feet of the ones he loved (even the one who would betray him with a kiss a few hours later).

The Passover meal begins with the blessing of the wine, the Kiddush Blessing which includes the words  In Your love, Our God, You have given us feasts of gladness and seasons of joy…You have chosen us from all peoples, consecrating us to your service, giving us the Festivals, a time of gladness and joy.  Was this what Jesus said as he took the wine and blessed it?  Feasts of gladness and seasons of joy?  On the night of his arrest? Did he mean it with every bit of his heart or was it a struggle that required him to reach deep within?  Could he really embrace this Passover Feast with joy and gladness?

But then I remember the week I spent in the hospital with my mom in mid-February and the night I snuggled with her the last night she was responsive.  I look back on that time as a feast of gladness and a season of joy.  That time together, even though it was hard, was a precious gift to me. Perhaps Jesus cherished this meal as a beautiful gift.

So tonight I will go to church and try to do more than go through the motions.  I will feast on the Body and Blood of my Savior with gladness under the dark umbrella of death.  I guess this is probably what Christ did as well.  It couldn’t have been easy for him.

While I was in Alabama with my family prior to my mom’s passing I went to church…my church…the one that taught me that I am God’s beloved.  As I sat through worship I found myself (like always) drawn to the stained glass window behind the pulpit.  In that window Jesus kneels in the garden and prays.  Scripture tells me that he asks if any way possible for the cup to be taken from him.  Then he prays for me and for you.  I have never been able to look at that window without my heart breaking for him, trying to imagine how he must feel, and being overwhelmed with his love for me.  He knows that death is imminent but not until the betray and suffering come. Still…he loves.

To be honest, I am not ready for Good Friday to come either.  There has been to much death and I can’t make myself imagine the One who is Love on the cross even though I know that Easter is coming…even though I know that my loved ones are in the arms of Jesus.  Even though…I am just not ready.  And I am pretty sure Jesus wasn’t either!