On my way...

I write from the airspace between Boise and Denver.  As I look down at all the snow I thank you, dear friends, for suggesting that I fly instead of drive my little Honda Fit over these passes.  I am safe and snug in this high flying bus enjoying the snow from afar.

Thank you for an unforgettable decade of ministry.  You have taught me so much - and I leave you a far wiser pastor than when I arrived.  I hope you learned a few things with me, too.  Watching your transformation has been a joy.  I leave here confident that you are in a solid place to undertake your search, and I trust that God is preparing the next pastor to come and journey with you - just as God slowly prepared me to leave you to journey with the good people of Bethany.

Let love be your guide - keep letting your light shine - and don’t lose sight of who you are and why you are here.  Be compassionate and kind - the world really needs that right now.  May God bless you and keep you always.

Know that I love you and release you to the care of a God who loves you to infinity and back.  You are in good hands.

And with this I conclude this blog.  Blessings, dear ones, on your journey.

Traveling mercies and love,
Kim

Getting Ready

Only one more sleep until Advent begins (for French and Celtic Christians - three cheers for gifting me with fifteen more days of my favorite season).  I have one beloved Advent devotional that begins on November 15th and it is right here beside me.  I smile as I hold it in my hands - it’s almost time.

I wasn’t going to order my special Advent candles this year due to all the upheaval associated with getting ready for this journey, but I changed my mind.  Now more than ever, I need the light and warmth those beeswax candles provide.  And in the midst of change I need the anchor of tradition - now is not the time to throw everything that grounds me overboard!

Things went fairly smoothly in October as my preparation to leave became visible.  November has been another story.  Things that were meant to proceed without a hitch or hiccup have become chaotic and complicated.  Those two words and the experiences they evoke do not settle well in my psyche.  Goodbyes are hard enough without complications.

But here I am, chaos and complications and all, trying to find my way through this experience.  It is like thinking you are getting on the Thomas the Train ride that goes around the children’s section of the amusement park and discovering that the Viper Roller Coaster was disguised as that sweet, tame train.  The next thing you know you are upside-down in the corkscrew and you might just be the one screaming like you did when you were seven and saw a great big spider.

I guess I should be thankful that I’m not on the great big spider ride.  It can also be disguised as Thomas the Tank Engine.

As things get more chaotic that quiet voice within reminds me to slow it down...double down on self care...and trust that, in time, all will be well (whatever “well” looks like).  So with a house to pack, a house to sell, a house to buy, a road trip to plan, and beloved friends, colleagues and congregation to say goodbye to - not to mention all that happens in November-December - I’m slowing things down.  Time to embrace my inner turtle.

In the Godly play classroom we help the children to get ready before we engage the story.  And that involves slowing down, settling in and being awake and aware.  That is exactly what is needed right now.

One more sleep until Advent begins and forty-six more sleeps until I leave Boise.  It’s time to get ready...

With love,
Kim

The “A” Word

When my son was young and we were preparing for a major life change (new job, move etc) I would tell him it was time for an adventure.  We’d do our research,  make plans and dive headlong into the transition.  We had many adventures when he was young (for such is the nature of the early years of pastoral ministry).  By the time he was a teen his perspective began to shift and he referred to adventures as the “a” word.  Change was no longer just fun.  Now it also involved loss and uncertainty - change was complex.  Once he became a young adult the more challenging “adventures” became AFGEs (where A stands for another, G stands for growth, E stands for experience and you can guess what F stands for).

Transitions and change are complex experiences - joy and sorrow, fear and hope all co-mingled into a brew that is sometimes sweet and at other times bitter and often served with tears.

After I long time of reflection and discernment, I accepted a call to another church community 2040 miles from here and let my current church know that it was time for me to leave.  Now we all have started an adventure.  And it is complex.  Since the make up of my heart allows me to cry easily and often, it has been hard to stay hydrated this past week as I began saying goodbye to people I love and a community that, for a decade, has been my home.  Although there is much about Idaho that has been challenging (fire season, political discourse, “Buy a truck and get a Gun” and open carry of firearms comes readily to mind) it has been home.    I know where to get excellent Mexican food or the best Holy Kale Juice or to see a sky full of stars.  Or where to go to share a cup of tea with a dear friend.  I know to not try to get on the Connector going east at 8 am and to avoid Eagle Rd at almost any time of the day.  And I know that I love this congregation and that the congregation loves me and is feeling all the complex emotions I am feeling.

I have no doubt that this is the right decision for me, for the congregation I am joining in January and for the one I will leave in December.  As hard as change can be, I feel this change right down to my bones.  Now is the time.  And since I don’t think God play favorites, I trust that if this is best for me and best for the calling congregation in Ohio, it will also be best for the congregation in Boise.

But even with that inner certainty, I still feel the fear.  The stress.  The anxiety.  The loss.  And the guilt.  Those lenses give me a potent view of my world - and it isn’t pretty.  When I am looking through fear, stress, anxiety, loss and guilt the world becomes a very dark place.  An unwelcoming place.  A scary place.  An unsafe place.  And impending disasters lurk around every corner!  The glass becomes half empty and the liquid in it is poison.  I become vigilant - looking for the problem that is waiting to leap out at me and catch me unaware.

Last night I was gripped but just such a moment.  Overwhelmed by the enormity of saying goodbye, selling a house, buying a house, moving across country and then saying hello - I sat on the edge of my bed in a very dark place - seeing menacing shadows around every corner.  It was as if Halloween came early - and it was all tricks and no treats!

And then - when I least expected it - God gently cracked my heart open, and I saw something besides the menacing shadows.  I saw all the people who were loving me through this transition.  Each person who was giving of their love and kindness to gentle me through.  People who were strangers a week ago working hard to secure a home for me in Ohio while others work here to sell the home I have.  Friends and colleagues, congregants and consultants - all giving me their very best love and support.  And in that moment - when I least expected it - I was flooded with gratitude for God’s unfailing love and support that was shown to me through so many people - God with skin on...

...or perhaps known by another “A” word - angels.

I rest safe and secure in the arms of the angels - and know that, no matter how complex and challenging this transition might be, these earthly angels will see me and each other through the changes.  And all will be well.

With love and deep gratitude,
Kim

A New Season

Each morning I sit at my kitchen table and gaze out the window toward the massive trumpet vine that has overtaken the fence - and wonder if the hummingbirds are still here ... and they are! I smile as I see them darting amongst the blossoms - soon they will head south to places I’ve only seen on PBS specials.  I love to watch them fly.  And in that moment this morning as I watched them outside my window, I decided that the season of my grounding had come to an end - it was time for me to stretch my wings again and fly.

Deciding to do a thing and actually doing it are very different propositions.  It took me the better part of the day to summon the courage to take flight.

First I had to find my shoes.

I use a hard-soled slipper when flying - the old-style jazz dance shoe is ideal but not easy to find.  A ballet slipper will do in a pinch if the sole is stiff enough.  Once the needed shoes were located, I headed into the hanger - also known as my studio.  I have been grounded for the better part of five years - absent from my beloved studio.  As I think back to those “why” and “what for” kind of questions I have a few ideas of how my wings got clipped.  But sometimes the reasons no longer matter - it was time to fly again.  Now.

I walked past my old friend Macomber and the Scottish double weave travel blanket woven in the style of the old Aberdeen Granholm Mills - this was not the place to start, as it requires concentration and equal amounts of skill and luck.  I also walked past the Gobelin that has been waiting for the Advent Tapestry to take shape.  Not today.

Instead I sat down at my beloved counterbalance loom - simple in construction with back hinged treadles that help my creaky joints.  I fought hard for that modification back in the day...now it is a standard option on the new looms.  But this old friend was the first of its kind - and it serves me well.

As soon as I sat on the bench I was surrounded by old friends.  Myra reminded me to relax:  “Don’t put your stress into your weaving.  Breathe.”  Virginia wondered why I wasn’t hemstitching the beginning of the blanket (she wanted everything hemstitched - even if it would have a traditional hem).  Norman reminded me to use a stretcher and “beat on a closed shed.”  Since he is the master (especially when it comes to Scottish Wedding Blankets) I always defer to his judgment.  And Turid was quick to remind me not to advance the warp and move the stretcher at the same time - she was afraid that I had forgotten her sound advice during these years off the bench.  How wonderful to be joined by these dear mentors who always have a place in my studio.

I picked up my shuttle - the one that fits so nicely in my hand - looked at the note I had left to myself five years prior (everything I needed to know about this project including that the beat I needed was somewhere between a light thud and a thwack) - and I was away!  With each throw of the shuttle I gained altitude until I was flying again - almost like I had never stopped.  I’m much slower than I was the last time I slipped the bonds of earth in my studio, but that is okay - it isn’t a race.  It is instead this unique combination of dance and flight - with each throw of the shuttle I climb higher and higher until I catch a thermal and soar -

- it is such a satisfying feeling.  A feeling of completeness.  A feeling of peace.  A feeling like in that moment I am doing exactly what I am meant to be doing - fully present and focused.  Bliss.

I’ve tried to understand why I have this experience sitting at the loom, but that is another of those “why” and “what for” questions that remains unanswered (perhaps for the best).  But I do know this - my time of being grounded has passed.  Will I go back to spending at least an hour a day at the loom?  I don’t know.  But I promised Nilus that I’d be back tomorrow.  And I always try to keep my word.

We must all do what we are created to do!

With tired arms and a joyful heart,

Kim

Found by a Quiet Moment

I've been sitting outside for the past half-hour breathing in cool, clean air.

Bliss.

No respirator mask in sight - just the freedom to be outdoors again.  This fire season has been unrelenting.  And then yesterday the winds changed direction...a small front came through...and the reds and oranges of the DEQ measuring system gave ways to yellows and sweet green - clean air.  It is probably too early to call an end to fire season.  But this oasis has been delightful.

Learning to savor these moments in the journey is a growing edge for me.  Back in the day, I remember a mentor telling me to savor those quiet moments in ministry and life and resist the temptation to fill them with things to do.  "Cherish those quiet moments - they will soon be replaced with the chaos of parish life.  But if you stop and savor them when they find you, you will be better able to walk through the chaos.  Whatever you do, don't chase them away with busyness!"  My ever-vigilant inner manager quickly responded that the best thing to do in those quiet moments was to catch up with unfinished tasks!

I have spent decades chasing quiet moments away with busyness.  But slowly, ever so slowly, I'm learning how to let them find me.

Fr. William McNamara often wrote about the need for holy leisure - doing absolutely nothing with God.  I remember thinking his advice bordered on malpractice!  And now...

...now I'm learning to sit out on the deck and be ever-so-quiet so the quail will parade past me with their young and the hummingbirds will come to the planters on the deck and all the little birds in the big spruce tree will sing with abandon while I take deep breaths of clean air and offer thanks for the oasis of God's creation that is now.

Tomorrow will likely be a busy day.  And the smoke may return.  Best to cherish this moment while it is here.

Resting at the oasis,
Kim

Better than the Smell of Bacon

I awoke this morning to the smell of incense, not bacon.  It filtered into my room like a sweet prayer.  I am staying at the Antiochian Conference and Retreat Center in Bolivar (or Fairfield or Ligonier - depending on who you ask) in Western Pennsylvania.  I arrived Wednesday afternoon and settled into my basic but comfortable room with a gorgeous view of the hills and the warmth of hospitality that makes one feel instantly at home. A small staff sees to the enormity of the operation that includes everything one would expect in a large Conference Center as well as a well appointed book store and a theological library that left me a little weak in the knees.  And then I saw the chapel - it took my breath away.  The iconography is stunning and the setting is peaceful.  It is a perfect place for writing, rest and renewal.  I will come here again.

It was my first time worshipping with Antiochian Orthodox Christians, and because there was a doctoral program in residence for the week, the priests and deacons in the program led chapel morning and evening (Orthros and Vespers).  As Antiochians trace their origins to the original church of Antioch (“the ancient faith”), their chant has a distinctive Middle Eastern flavor (very different from the Russian Orthodox chant of which I am better acquainted even though many of the texts are the same).  It has a haunting and ethereal quality to it, made even more poignant when one contemplates the reality in Syria and Lebanon.  They are a people who have known great suffering.  And yet they sing to God.

My theological orientation is not orthodox - or else I would not be a Protestant minister.  But I have a great resonance for the symbolism, liturgy and their ability to respect the “greater-than-ness” of God. The God they worship does not fit comfortably within anyone’s hip pocket.  This God is mysterious, wild, and “more than” - a cosmic God enthroned in the universe.  Each time I worship with them or pray in their chapel I am reminded of my place in the universe - it is humbling but a very good corrective.  They remind me that I am a beloved child of God created in the very image of God - but I am not God.  And it is not my place to assume God’s role - I can let God be God and just be about the business of being the most authentic me I can be.

Candles and incense - images of the prayers we offer to God and symbols of how we are meant to live in the world.  We are called to be living candles and incense - offering life and hope as we serve in love and fill the world with sweet justice and hope.

And that definitely smells better than bacon!

Easter Monday Musings

I love Easter Monday.  I set no alarm and leave the day blank in my calendar.  No agenda.  Any tasks undertaken evolve organically - no planning allowed!  So the brief freak snowstorm invited me to make some soup and putter a bit in the kitchen, having previously puttered a bit upstairs moving furniture into a new configuration.  

Easter often leaves me feeling like it is time for something new.

This year the daily readings for Lent and Holy Week were stunningly applicable as they both challenged and comforted me from day one.  Surprisingly, one reading has remained with me from the very beginning of Lent - continuing to slip into my awareness for what seems like no apparent reason.  Often it stays just out of my line of sight - echoing deeply within my heart - I know it is there even when I am not actively pondering it.  Perhaps it brings the wisdom of the next lesson... 

Because I prefer Advent to Lent, I set the bar low in terms of expectations and keep my focus on all the pastoral/liturgical tasks of the season (of which there are many). Despite my low expectations, I soon found myself on an unexpected journey of deepening awareness, compassion and growth.  Will it lead to further transformation?  

Abbot John Klassen's meditation today raises these kinds of Easter Monday questions when he writes:  

Our belief in the possibility of genuine human transformation is rooted in the resurrection of Christ.  This change is not superficial, like a new 'do or shirt.  It is deep change, coming from the inside out, energized and guided by the resurrection of Christ.  So some questions:  What do I want to do that is totally new for me because Christ is Risen and I share in that resurrection?  What do we as a community want to do that is totally new because Christ is risen and we share in that resurrection?

I want the newness that emerges in my life this Eastertide to be more than a reshuffle of furniture or a new batch of soup.  I want it to reflect a deepening of my relationship with the One who is Love so that my transformation into my true self continues - much like the children and I discussed on Sunday regarding the nymph and the dragonfly. One can serve most fully and deeply when serving through the true self rooted in Love.

I wonder what newness will emerge in me this Eastertide?  I wonder what newness will emerge for my church community?

Savoring the bliss of Easter Monday,

Kim