Author: cometsgirl

There is quite a lot of rumbling outside my window this morning. It’s the sound thunder makes in the mountains as it skips over the hills and valleys where I live.

It was preceded by the weather alarm jarring me awake, telling me to seek cover in the lower level of my home. Right now!

The thundering warning message was preceded by a 2am hour-long vigil at my church, where I “stayed awake with Christ”.

The vigil was preceded by a two hour late night drive from Atlanta where Beth and I had attended the Maundy Thursday service at an Episcopal parish in a neighborhood just minutes from Atlanta’s airport. Her flight from Houston arrived just in time for us to get to church just before the service began. I was soothed by the beauty of the church, the Taize hymns, and the spoken words; and fed as we gathered around the table.

The service was preceded by travel journeys as Beth and I each slogged to the airport through traffic jams and stormy skies.

Now enjoying cappuccinos as the rumbling in the sky continues, it will soon be time to return to my church for the Good Friday service. I expect to find rumblings of another kind as we hear the Gospel and read the Passion.

How many times have I heard, it’s a dry heat when describing high temperatures in Arizona? Seems there is the thought that when one is in a dry climate with high temps, it won’t really feel that hot.

I beg to differ. Hot is hot. It’s been awfully hot here these past few days. Desert hot.

Still, we set out on an urban scenic drive today.

We pulled into a trail area which wandered along a dry wash.

It was very informative. And very hot as well. We didn’t let a little dry heat stop us.

Everything that grew along the wash was identified by sign.

A lovely mix of yellow wildflowers grew along the wash.

Other sights told how punishing this environment can be.

Just down the road we came upon a series of boulders piled high. I’m so curious about their origin. Perhaps a bit of geology reading is in order.

We followed this time in the sun, with a brief stop at a local park. We fully intended to walk through the grounds, seeking out public art. But… that dry heat was just too much.  This is April and I was surprised by the upper 90’s — I’ve been here in August and all I can say is that was an extreme experience.

Leaving this place we headed to The Blind Pig. It was delicious and delightful – and a respite as well.

Today is the twins’ birthday.  I’m so grateful my make-up trip coincided with this time to celebrate their lives. The past few days of living together have been rich with story-telling, memories, and always, laughter.

 

Tomorrow I’ll be on my way back home. Traveling mercies.

Years ago while riding on a ferry between Blacks Harbor, Maine and Grand Manan Island New Brunswick, Canada, a gentleman standing nearby exclaimed, “It’s a large day.” And so it was.

I have used this phrase many times since, when experiencing a particularly stupendous day. Today was such a day here in central Arizona. Forecast to be in the high 90’s today, we left reasonably early for a road trip. Destination the Florence-Kelvin Highway. It was a sixty mile drive to the beginning of the thirty-two mile journey through the Sonoran Desert.

I was delighted to find there was still quite a wonderful display of wildflowers along the entire route.  It won’t be long before the waters from recent rains dry up and the wildflowers fade.

We might have seen five cars along the route.  The road varied from paved to grated to sandy to grated and finally back to pavement.

Thousands of Saguaro Cacti covered the hills. We even spotted a Crested Saguaro.

So many cactus were in bloom.

We have found on previous trips that we three are good traveling companions.  We’re all agreeable with the kind of moseying down the road travel, u-turns and turn backs to take a further look at sights passed, stop and get out to walk off into the wildness.

And in the case of walking off into the wildness, being especially alert to rattlesnakes who are out sunning in this high heat. That got my attention! Fortunately none seen. None heard.

A short detour to view the Asarco Copper mine. Seen from above, the levels of mining were reflected in the various shades of tailings.  Giant trucks looked small.

One hundred eighty miles later, and back into civilization, we decided we deserved a cool gelato.

 

Soon after landing yesterday, we drove straight to La Santisima Gourmet Taco Shop. We were all hungry, and we wanted to check the food out as we had extended an invitation to other family members to meet here after church today. One word. Amazing!

Located in a primarily Hispanic neighborhood, we could have sampled tacos from a dozen shops. Having read about La Santisima earlier this year, it was the obvious choice. We added a serving of jicama-cranberry-mango guacamole to the meal. We also took advantage of the abundant salsa offerings.

Salsa pecan, salsa Chile de Arbol, salsa Cabo, salsa Seven Chiles. And many more.

Good sustenance for the next activity, Electric Desert at the Desert Botanical Gardens. There was enough daylight left to wander the gardens taking photos of birds and blooms.

Just after sunset, the light and sound show began. Seven locations throughout the gardens comprised the light and sound experience.

We wandered throughout the gardens surrounded by light and sound. We even tackled a steep-ish hill where caution was advised for our age group. Nighttime lights below, after a long day of travel.

An early morning walk was pure delight.

Then off to worship God.

St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church is my sister’s parish. My nephew and his wife are members as well. We all gathered for worship in the new sanctuary. I was struck with the beauty of the space, the beauty of the stained glass windows, and the exquisite locally crafted holy water fonts.

Approaching the table with my sister and brother to receive the bread and wine, took me back to long ago Sundays during our growing up years.

The lone, wild bird in lofty flight is still with thee, nor leaves thy sight.

And I am thine! I rest in thee, Great Spirit, come, and rest in me. H. R. McFayden.

The meal continued as we returned to La Santisima to share a table with three generations of cousins.

After two hours of feasting on gourmet tacos and conversation with family, we were all filled with that which will sustain us until we meet next time.

The day culminated with the game. The big game. The NCAA Women’s Basketball Championship. Baylor vs Notre Dame. I love both teams. I admire the coaches so much. I am passionate about the players and the sport. I didn’t really have a favorite this year. I did have hope that it would be an equal match. Right to the last seconds of the game it was hard fought. It was thrilling! We three holed up in the TV room for pre-game, game, and post-game coverage, relishing the experience.

Now as this Sabbath day closes, I’m grateful for the many ways I was nourished. Food. Family. Faith. AND the big game.

Blessings.

I have now created sixteen Thumb Prayers. As I created each one I prayed about and for the recipient – some known, some unknown. I have given one away. Others will soon be given as I move through Lent, and as I travel to Arizona for a few days.

This is been very much a quieting practice. A prayer-filled time when I stop, pray, and create a Thumb Prayer.

Last December I had to cancel a trip to Arizona to visit my sister and brother. I was too ill to travel. Worse was the fact no one could figure out what was wrong. Pretty much nothing was ever determined to be the cause. Still, I had to cancel a long-planned trip, a difficult thing for me to do.

Now it’s make-up trip time! I begin my journey today, and while it will be a short visit, I’ll be with my sister and brother the entire time. For a few days we will live together in my sister’s home. We have come to relish sibling vacations.

We have some plans in place – their 76th birthday celebration most especially, and time with family who live nearby. Other adventures will present themselves as we move through the next few days. We are really good at recognizing opportunities for adventure and play, and then embracing these. I’m so ready!

I love traveling to Arizona. It’s a real change of environment from my Georgia land of hills and trees. I won’t see much of either of those. What I will see, though, will be vast expanses of desert, cacti, and awesome sunsets. And citrus trees everywhere, likely laden with fruit this time of year.

I recall traveling with my family in the 50’s, driving “down” to Phoenix at night as we descended from the higher elevations above Phoenix. Those days air conditioning was not an option, so we drove often at night. The bonus was the almost overpowering scent of orange blossoms.  I will never forget it! On that trip I purchased a small bottle of orange perfume. Of course it was no where as wonderful as the real thing, but back home in Colorado it came pretty close.

Come along!

Traveling mercies.

Do you ever experience an aroma that jogs your memory?  A scent that reminds you of a time or a place? A scent that calms or excites?

I certainly do.

Spring, especially spring, draws me back in time to my growing up years. Those years had some struggles for me, but somehow those struggles are tempered and tamped down when I plunge my nose into a lilac bloom.

There is no smell on earth – for me – as lovely and as soothing as that of the lilac.

Growing up in Colorado, lilacs grew with abandon. We had three huge lilacs that grew in a circle, with just enough space for young children to find the center and hide out. The best time to do this was in spring, of course, when the lilacs were in full bloom.

I am so very fortunate to have a lilac growing just steps from my front door.  It was planted not long after I moved to this place. As a tree that prefers northern climes, I was not sure how it would take to this southern hospitality.  But take it has!

Walt Whitman writes, Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul, There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim. The chant of my soul. Those words entrance me.  In Sprig of Lilac, Hyam Plutzik writes, …their faint aroma touches the edge of the mind. To me it’s definitely not a faint aroma, but the scent of lilacs does touch the edge of my mind.

I’ve been thinking about the power of scents. Aromas can remind us of a certain time and place, of an event that carries strong memories, of relationships, of joy and of sorrow.

I visit a place regularly. When I open the front door of the building, I’m met with a familiar and pleasant scent.  Familiar because the scent has greeted me for many months as I step into this place. For me its a place of healing. So as the scent touches the edge of my mind, I begin to feel a healing presence.

There’s an entire field of study and investigation into “smell memory” – about how our brains experience smells, and how some smells in our lives remain in our memory of the events associated with a particular scent.

While I have little interest in the scientific explanation, I know that what I experience when my nose plunges into a lilac bloom, or when I step inside one door in particular, I am thrust into a place of soft harmony and healing.

My Thumb Prayer activity is taking shape and just as making crosses last year called me into a creative time, so too does making thumb prayers. The intentional choosing of each button, with the thought of, and the prayer for the recipient, draws me further in.

Here are the latest.

It’s very quieting. Be still. Be still. And know.

Ash Wednesday was three weeks ago.  That makes us about mid-way through Lent. I’ve undertaken a number of Lenten practices during these past days. I’ve mostly stayed on track and been faithful daily to these.

I attended a workshop a few weeks ago: Finding God in Digital Spaces. It was enriching beyond my expectations.  It’s a story for another blog post. I mention it now because one of the exercises we did was to select an image from a table-full of images, one that seemed to reflect where each of us was on that particular day in our Lenten journey.

This is the image I chose.

It represented my “collection” of Lenten practices I had undertaken this year. The trunk felt like I was grounded in my commitment and firm in my intention.  The limbs and branches represented my variety of efforts to be centered in Lent.

I’m reading Richard Rohr’s Wonderous Encounters; Scripture for Lent. These are daily readings that provide wonderful nourishment – and incentive. His suggested “starter prayer” on Ash Wednesday was “God give me the desire to desire what you want me to desire”.

I’m also following the United Kingdom’s 40acts from Stewardship. Each day a challenge is offered within the context of a daily essay which leads one to watch for opportunities to respond to that day’s particular challenge of stewardship. I have to confess that while I was filled with inspiration and action at the beginning, at this point, not so much. I have, however, paid particular attention to those days when the challenge suggests ways to donate some of my treasure for causes. Honestly, that effort requires little cost to me beyond my means. I will say, though, I do enjoy the days when I’m directed to seek out others for prayer and conversation, others I might not normally seek out.

Further, I receive a number of daily emails with quotes, readings, paintings, that offer a quick inspirational fix for the moment- in some cases, for more of the day. I don’t mean to dismiss these so cavalierly, because at times they do feed my hungry soul.

Here are a couple of photo-quotes that touched me.

And, then there is my fasting. In this case, from my normal poor eating habits.

All this say that I have been hungry for something similar to my Lenten practice last year.

I was really inspired by the book Making Crosses, A Creative Connection to God, by Ellen Morris Prewitt. It was about making crosses using discarded or found materials to give them new life. It was to take something “the world didn’t value and make it into a work of God”. It was a wonderful new way for me to be in communion with God. It was also a way to invite others to join me for a period of time.  On each of my travels last Lent I invited my family and friends to join with me in making crosses for a time. Here are my some of my 40 crosses.

 

This Lent I’ve missed the inspiration and communion I experienced while making crosses. So I went looking for just that. I ended up searching out Ellen Morris Prewitt online, and there I found just what I had been seeking.

Thumb Prayers.

Thumb prayers are handmade aids for prayer life. Or for sharing with others for whom you pray.  Or with others who might find their own prayer life gets a boost by the presence of a thumb prayer in their pocket.

One is to rub a thumb prayer with just that, your thumb, when you need a reminder of the Spirit’s presence in the world. You make them using paper clay and various types of buttons. Pray over each as you create it.

Nestle the thumb prayer in your pocket. Or keep it on your desk. Or tuck it in the console of the car for traffic jams. Or zip it in your backpack as you begin a trek. Thumb prayers fit wherever you need to reach for a moment of God in your day.

Yesterday I created my first thumb prayer. I pinched off some paper clay and quietly sat and formed a pocket in the clay with my thumb. Then I added a button and gently formed the clay around the edge of the button, securing it within the pocket. All the while praying for one whom I have chosen to give this thumb prayer.

And a second.

I’m off for errands and appointments today. Already I’m thinking about the thumb prayer I shall create upon my return late this afternoon.

Blessings.

 

I’m in Houston for the second bookend of moving to a new home. A couple of weeks ago I was in town to help with packing up; I have returned to assist with unpacking of that which was packed up.

Lots of stepping up and stepping down. Sixteen steps up, and down again. Repeat often.

I’m definitely feeling my oldering knees. In the process of stair-stepping I have discovered work-arounds for managing the effort. I’ve found a variety of ways to decrease the impact on my wearing-out legs.

First Aid Kit sings “Gotta keep on going ….. keep on keeping on, yeah I just keep on keeping on”. That’s me for sure.

Every morning I walk down the street to the gates that hold this home and the others on this street securely. There I find the morning paper. Birds accompany me along the way. I’m certain there are owls around so I hoot back as they call out. They respond back. I’m told it’s more likely they are doves, but I’ve never heard of hooting doves.

So I make my way with birdsong and soaring tree-sky images as I step along.

This home is taking on the personality and love of its new owner. My stair-stepping time here has given me a place in this place. But oh my, my legs have had a workout!

The next trip here promises to be one filled with play. Much of the work of getting settled is behind us, and that which remains will continue as I return to my Georgia home. That means time to play!

This new home is located close enough to town that the question asked in the past, “do we want to drive all the way into town?” will no longer be asked. We are already there. I can’t wait take it all in. Art. Music. Food. Footpaths and trails.

For now I’m about to board my flight. I’m filled with laughing-out-loud, over and over, moments. Also filled with the joyous sight of Texas bluebonnets! Both soothe any weariness I feel.

Traveling mercies.

This is a day of waiting. Driving to Atlanta-Hartsfield for my trip to Houston, I was caught in the last minutes of morning rush hour, so I waited often for traffic to move through the “downtown connector”. Stop, wait, go. That’s an old saying.

Waiting now in my lounge for my departure. I’m grateful to have a pleasant place to wait. The bonus found in this place are Jelly Bellys! I’ve been known to gather extras to enjoy on my flight.

I have another wait after I arrive as I wait for my transportation. Perhaps three hours. I’m hopeful that likely I can gain entry to the KLM lounge at the international terminal.

There will be waiting in this space soon, as international flights depart later today.

So what to make of this waiting time. I’ve decided the best thing for me is to see the time as a gift. A gift to stop. To cease bustling for awhile. A time to contemplate, to pray.

I listened to the Fresh Air podcast as I drove this morning. Barbara Brown Taylor was interviewed in conjunction with the publishing of her new book, Holy Envy:Finding God in the Faith of Others.

One thing she spoke about resonated with me. She was talking about Judaism. One thing she found especially beautiful was the Shema, a Hebrew prayer. It comes from the Book of Deuteronomy. ” Hear O Israel, the Lord your God. The Lord is One,” shema being the Hebrew for hear.

She was attracted to it because in the Christian tradition it’s more about talking to God, and asking for things. And to begin by wanting to hear just seemed a wonderful thing.

I think I’ll begin to listen more.

I’m in a Deuteronomy place right now, (“now choose life”), so this seems to be a fit.

For now I wait for takeoff as the airplanes all find their places.

Romans 8:25 – “But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

I’ve now passed through several waits this day, with more to come. I’m prepared.

Traveling mercies.

I’ve been in Houston for a few days to help pack up the contents of a home which will be transported to a new abode.

When one door closes,

another one opens.

There was a lot of organizing in preparation for the actual packing. We packed many items ourselves. Treasures that seem too precious to trust to professional packers’ hands. That’s an odd statement, isn’t it?

I think sometimes we feel no one can take as good of care of our treasured things as we can do ourselves. Regardless, it was a lot of loving work. Lots of special memories as treasured as the objects themselves.

In the midst of this home ending and home beginning, was another beginning and another ending.

Saturday evening we attended a service at Holy Comforter Episcopal Church. It was a service of celebration with a baptism and Holy Eucharist, as the parish’s new worship space was dedicated. Beth vested and processed with diocesan clergy. I sat with a dear friend who is a member of the parish. A packed church led an usher to seat the two of us in the seating reserved for clergy. Clearly the priesthood of all believers.

Lots of new finery in this new space.

Sunday morning we attended the final service at St. Timothy Episcopal Church. Its attendance and accompanying vitality has waned over a number of years and it was decided to shutter the parish. What it lacked in finery, it made up for in the presence of people, many of whom had returned for this last service.

I spent my last night at the rectory, a place I’ve felt at home for over twenty years. It was hard to walk away. But soon I shall return for my first night in the new home.

Endings. Beginnings

Now in midair gazing out as day becomes night. A beautiful ending outside my window.

Traveling mercies.