Author: cometsgirl

There is no mistaking I am in Packers country.

Everyone wears Packers garb.

After breakfast this morning we walked across the street to the Pro shop at Lambeau Field. The Pro shop sells ALL things Packers.

A good number of items were purchased by my family today. From clothing to knick knacks to Packers M&M’s.

A tour of the facility was next. About twenty of us gathered around a tour guide and followed him up and down and all around Lambeau Field. A Packer alumni joined us and after we took our seats in a skybox, regaled us with stories about playing Packer football.

We even “ran” out the tunnel to the field just as the Packers will do tomorrow. Of course we were required to yell “GO PACK GO!”

Up next was time to visit the Packers museum. It was quite a wonderful history adventure.

The Packers are unique in that they are publicly owned. In 2011 the organization issued stock in order to expand the stadium. I bought a share for Jack, making him an owner. I understand there is a special website to purchase owner gear, requiring the stock certificate number to make a purchase. Definitely an owner perk.

It was a wonderful family day. Also a very cold day. Just walking back and forth from the hotel was so cold I felt like I had a total head freeze. Ag least tomorrow is forecast to be twice as warm…34 degrees. For sure I’ll be in my puffy coat with both foot and hand warmers for my hands and feet.

Every night on the half hour there is a light show projected on the stadium wall. We have perfect viewing from the hotel room.

A fitting end to this most excellent day.

It’s not likely you could guess where I’m headed today.  It’s also not likely you will be surprised when you learn where- and why.

I’m going to a Green Bay Packers football game – IN Green Bay, Wisconsin – ON December 30th – WITH expected temperature for the game in the low 30’s. Lambeau Field is an outdoor stadium. Oh boy.

I have been to Lambeau Field for a Packers’ game.  Three times.  ALWAYS in August. And each time with my grandson, Jack.

You see, Jack and I were in a ski accident just about nine years ago.  He was eleven at the time, and we were on a family ski trip in Colorado. In the late afternoon the day before we would all depart, Jack and I found a place to sit and watch the skiers complete their ski runs.  We found a good viewing area and sat and watched.

Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a young woman- a teenager- lost control as she skied too fast and too recklessly.  She careened into us. She hit us both, but Jack bore the brunt of the crash and suffered two broken bones in his left leg.  It was awful.  It was so hard to see him in such pain.

Transported by ambulance to the ER in the ski center, he lay on a gurney, wearing his Green Bay Packers jersey, with great fear on his face as the nurse approached with intention to run an IV in his arm. Wanting to distract him, I gasped out. “Jack, would you like to go to a Packers game?”  Shaking his head yes, the IV was quickly inserted.

Months later as summer approached, I needed to figure out how to do what I had promised. I managed to do just that, and in August of that year Jack and I flew to Green Bay, Wisconsin, for a Packers pre-season game.

 We went again the next year.

And again two years later.

Jack is a Green Bay Packers fan because his Papa (grandfather) is a fan.

Each year during the regular NFL season, when Papa would watch Packers’ games on TV, I would say something snarky like “oh, Lambeau Field, I’ve been there.  Actually I’ve been there several times.”

Papa would reply, “I would only go in the middle of the winter, as a true fan would.”

And so it has come to pass, that Papa is going to find himself at a Packers game in the middle of winter. Jack and his parents and sister will join Papa for the game. And so will I. Jack’s dad, my older son, is making this trip possible.

A friend has lent me a “puffy coat”. It’s an original, when puffy really was puffy. Here’s a glimpse. It folds up surprisingly compact. But wait until you see me wrapped up in puff.

Earlier this year I met up with this family in Keystone, CO. They were there to ski and snowboard and I was there to enjoy time together in the Colorado Rockies. Jack and I took a walk one afternoon, past the site of the accident now viewed in the distant past. We talked a bit about how it felt to return, and we noted fencing had been erected to prevent ski-viewers from sitting where we sat that fateful day. It was healing to walk this part of the accident journey with him.

And now, this day we return with his family and with Papa to a place that gave us the most healing – Lambeau Field.

Traveling mercies.

You may remember my “Grinch” Christmas tree. My older son’s father-in-law makes them. A year ago when I first learned about them, I asked if he would make one for me.

“Of course” was his reply. A few weeks ago I detoured on a drive home from middle Georgia to pick up the tree. It was just what I had hoped for. It gave me such a smile as I drove home with it seated beside me.

The next day I took this photo.

Yesterday I placed it it with the packages that have been arriving just about daily. The tree soars above the wrappings of the season. I’ve chosen to leave it unadorned, with the exception of the bow it was sporting when I picked it up. In my opinion it is adorned through its design and color. And that is enough.

I think too often we think we need to add adornment to our belongings, our surrounding, and even to ourselves. Will a bauble here, an ornament there, or a particular garment provide a marked improvement? Is simple, or “as is”, enough?

What about belongings? Do we need more, or is what we have sufficient? Now in my 78th year of life, I need – and want – so much less. Gazing just now at what I see as I look up from writing, I see treasures amassed over my many years. What I see is enough, more than enough.

Sara Groves sings,

“Really we don’t need much
Just strength to believe
There’s honey in the rock,
There’s more than we see
In these patches of joy
These stretches of sorrow
There’s enough for today
There will be enough tomorrow.”

Indeed. There is, and will be, enough.

As for the stack of gifts under the Grinch tree, most are for the family who is just miles away from my front door. There will be enough for all.

I do have more shopping to do – for those who really do not have enough. Heifer International notified me this morning that any shopping I do today will be matched such that my one gift will be three gifts. I’m now off to shop, to help make “enough” a closer reality for others.

Advent IV Blessings.

Yesterday, on the day of Advent III, I found myself keeping Sabbath in an unstructured and unscheduled manner. Normally I would be in the midst of community worship in my home parish, or wherever my travels had taken me.

This Sabbath day was different. Holy Eucharist within a house-blessing service, was to be my community worship. At 5pm.

So my structure without structure was to begin the day with music. I’ve listened to a Public Radio program out of Rochester, NY, for over 30 years. With Heart and Voice. I listened to the 2-hour Sunday morning program when I was away from church. When I made my way back and found myself in church on Sunday mornings, I recorded the program for later listening.

That’s where I began this Sabbath. Listening to With Heart and Voice, featuring music specific for the Third Sunday in Advent.

The secular was mixed in with reading the Houston Chronicle. I read a most interesting story about a nun who tweets a daily prayer to the president. It’s become her spiritual practice, one she says, while difficult, is centered in encouragement for him to “grow in humility and the ability/capacity/willingness to focus on the common good and peace of all”. This is something we all might consider.

Next up was a live-streamed Christmas service out of an ecumenical church in Oregon. Beth’s grandboys were part of the children’s sing during the service. They sang contemporary versions of Christmas hymns. Charming.

Late afternoon we gathered for the house blessing. During the Hurricane Harvey flood, Beth took refuge in this home of St. Mary’s parishioners. A few days later it flooded and all had to be evacuated. Now rebuilt, restored, and a home for habitation once again, it was time for family to gather for the home to be blessed.

In the absence of photographs during the service, I’ll try to describe the scene with words. Beth, collared and stoled once again, stood with bible and prayer book. All present gathered around and at Beth’s feet was an enormous, elderly black lab. All settled in for the Gospel reading and prayers, her large tail wagged, and in doing so, flipped Beth’s stole into a wave.

Two cats gathered as well. As we moved from room to room through the house, the animals followed along. After all, this is their home as well. They too, had been evacuated and relocated for a time.

Holy Eucharist followed, as it was the first meal to be consumed in the now-blessed home. An enormous bbq feast followed. Abundance of food and fellowship.

Clearly, I found opportunities to worship God in quiet and in community.

We went to visit Tony.

The minute we turned into the hospice grounds, I was transported in time. Back to the days, and the years, where I was present with patients and their families for their end-times. Everything felt and looked the same. I was home.

The quiet joy of greeting Tony, and then talking with him about the times when our lives crossed paths, was filled with warmth and remembering.

The previous blog was written as I flew to Houston. On the drive down to the medical center I read it aloud to Beth. Then I clicked on Publish. As we sat with Tony, along with his sister and brother, Beth told him about the blog I had written as I journeyed to this time to be with him. She then read it aloud; the room grew silent as she read. The blog ended with a prayer from the Service of Compline and when she prayed the prayer, we all said Amen.

I did this hard thing, and just as I imagined, it was filled with grace, with gentle joy, with reunion. It was also filled with blessings and parting.

The walls of Houston Hospice are hung with period quits. To me they represent tapestries of lives. Tony and I have threads in each other’s lives, and today we tied them off.

Carrie Newcomer sings

“You can do this hard thing
You can do this hard thing
It’s not easy I know
But I believe that it’s so
You can do this hard thing.”

I have what could be seen as a hard thing, to do today. After I’m picked up at the Houston airport, we’ll drive down to the periphery of the Texas Medical Center to Houston Hospice. These are old stomping grounds for me.

I studied at the UT School of Public Health, and then went on to have a career in the medical research field. My studies and my office were in the center of the Center.

A few years into my work I felt called to become a hospice volunteer. And so I went through the required training and for the next number of years I was present with those making their final earthly journey. I did this work in this place where I am going today.

I wrote about my faith journey recently. One thing I did not mention was the role music played in seeking and finding faith. Specifically Christian music. It seems odd to think about how far I had removed myself from God, while holding on to God’s songs.

There was an organist at the church where my family worshipped, and where years later I returned and kick-started my faith. Tony. Precious Tony, who had a wondrous ability to play the organ, a love of the music, and the sparkle when he smiled and led the choir and the congregation in praising God in song.

All this to say, he was a part of my faith journey. For many years I would run into Tony at local concerts. We always enjoyed chatting and catching up.

I learned last night that he has been admitted to hospice.

Beth knows him well. She asked if I wanted to go visit Tony. Of course I do. Of course I want to do this hard thing. I suspect, tho, that in the midst of this hard thing there will be grace and joy and reunion — and it willl not be so hard after all.

From the service of Compline, Book of Common Prayer:

“Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or
weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who
sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless 
the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the 
joyous; and all for your love’s sake.” Amen.

So I had a recent wrestling match with forces of health and darkness. As someone who is always in motion, suddenly I was not in motion.  Maybe not suddenly, but quick enough. At the end of a recent short, but very active trip, I fell into a heap.  Suffice it to say, that heap lingered for a couple of weeks, causing me not only to miss planned travel to Arizona, but to miss travel in the most minute sense– up and down the stairs, across the room, down the hall. It was like trudging through banks of snow.

Wow. As a friend asked me this morning, do you think this happened because you are not one to slow down, but perhaps should learn to do so, and this was a reminder, a nudge?  I don’t know.

What I do know is that it was a trial and a test of the realities of my time of life in which I find myself. Oldering. I had a couple of weeks of severe aches and pains, and debilitating tiredness.  Two trips to see my doctor provided no answers. The truth is I very much did not like what I began to imagine could be a new normal for me.

I trudged and trudged, then trudged some more.  In body, mind and spirit.

There’s good news this day.  I’ve pretty much bounced back and am on schedule to take my chair in the air in about fourteen hours.  Whoo hoo!

My best friend and I have had a decades-long tradition of sharing Advent time.  For years we went to northern New Mexico.  That changed a few years ago, and now we travel in January for Epiphany time in northern New Mexico.

Advent time has been moved to Houston.  I know, I know. Houston in December is not exactly an Advent winter season.  Still, it seems to work.

If you’ve followed my blog for a time, you may recall that Frosty the Snowman has played an important part in our Advent time in Houston. Frosty ended up bringing healing to the very real situation of my friend’s experiences (and mine also) with floods and relocations for the past two and a half years. Such a surprise it has been to have some of Advent focused on Frosty.

I mentioned in my last blog that I receive a daily AdventWord meditation from the Virginia Theological Seminary. Two days ago the word was rough.  In the Gospel of Luke we hear John the Baptizer quoting Isaiah, who proclaims that the “rough ways will be made smooth” in preparation for the coming of God. Our tasks on the way to smoothness are to examine our own harsh words, sharp elbows and other impediments to both human and divine relationships….

….so that we can be made smooth, the word for yesterday. “To make the way smooth for each of us to experience the liberating life of God, we must remove all the obstacles we have constructed that blocks the path of grace”.

I clearly was in the “rough”.  There could be further rough ahead, but I now catch glimpses of the smooth up ahead, and for that I give thanks!

Traveling mercies.

A week ago as I was thinking about upcoming travel, I was reminded of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song, “What Does is Mean to Travel”. Her lyrics include these lines:

For the first time that I can remember, I had to cancel a planned trip. Unknown “oldering” symptoms got in my way.  I know it was the right thing to do, but what regret I have.

This morning, while letting a super-hot shower-spray cover my sorenesses, I was reminded of Helen Reddy’s song, “I am Woman”.

The part of the song I kept replaying in my head was,

If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
(Strong)
I am invincible
(Invincible)
I am womam.

That song came out in 1971, and it was an anthem for multitudes of women, including myself. While I’ve not ever felt totally invincible, I’ve felt a certain level of being invincible.  Thinking about travel in particular, my friends and family have marveled at how I’m always on the go.  I’ve marveled as well. It may be that I needed to remain on the go so I didn’t miss out on my travel expectations.  More likely it is because I am resistive to slowing down, certainly to stopping.

So here I am stopped.  It’s definitely not a good look for me.  But what I’m trying to do in these moments of aches and pains, is to believe I’ve needed to stop to rest.  That this rest has been mandated for my own good.  So in the long run I can take my suitcase in hand and depart.  And arrive.

I am receiving a daily AdventWord meditation during Advent from the Virginia Theological Seminary. Twenty-four emails during the period of Advent, each offering a word to consider for meditative practice during this time of slowing down, of watching and waiting.

The first word in this series is JOURNEY. Here are the sentences accompanying the word:

Pause and imagine a world without Google maps–a world where journeys carry both risk and opportunity. The route is difficult to determine; wrong turns are inevitable. Yet every turn of such a journey opens new horizons and strangers met along the way may become friends. Pause the journey of life. Pause and remember that God is our companion on this journey–present in the moments of pain and of joy. 

Indeed.

Traveling mercies.

In a recent lectionary study class, our readings were for Advent I, the first Sunday in Advent. The class was small this day, so each of us had an opportunity to read some of the passages aloud. After the reading, the discussion began with some thoughts about this quiet time of Advent in the midst of Christmas season din – the noise that surrounds us.

The discussion veered off about exclamation points people often use when texting. One doesn’t seem to be enough anymore. Several exclamation points are better heard. Frankly, even the one exclamation is often unnecessary. And then more conversation about the ALL CAPS texts and e-mails.

I volunteered that I had just that morning received a message followed by a burst of confetti.

Out rector suggested we might view Advent as a confetti-free zone.

That got my attention. Now I’m considering how to do this.

I returned last night from a quick two-day travel lark. My best friend and I spent about 24 hours in Athens, GA. After picking her up at Hartsfield-Jackson, we enjoyed an amazing lunch at Ford Fry’s (a restauranteur of Atlanta and Houston fame) El Felix. From there it was straight to 1000 Faces coffee roasters in Athens. A real favorite.

With the first sip, things slowed down. Even became leisurely. Gentle enjoyment of a place where opportunities to slow down abound.

We drove over to R. Wood pottery studio. I’ve long collected Rebecca’s ceramic pieces.

Wandering in the midst of the many finished dinnerware and one-of-a-kind pieces in the studio, was like being in a garden. I had a lovely chat with Rebecca about how her plates set out for a recent dinner gathering at my home had drawn us all to the table for a shared meal.

We closed out this day with a movie and a small meal. Then good rest. Our lives have been filled to the brim, even overflowing at times with tasks and activities. This short travel lark began to set the stage for going without confetti for awhile.

In the morning we walked to 1000 Faces for breakfast. Time was indeed slowing. The trees along the walk are in the midst of shedding their leaf confetti.

I picked up a copy of The Flagpole as I finished my coffee. This caught my eye:

It was just after nine. “Should we go? Can we make it? Do we want to try? Yes!”

Sometimes you need to hurry to get to a place of mindfulness. A “high-speed” walk back to the hotel, a dash to the room to get the car keys, and a short drive to the museum … we arrived in time to queue up, grab a stool, and then the mindfulness hour began.

It was SO worth the hurry-up. Truthfully, however, I got distracted before it was over. I veered out of the room during a gazing exercise where I encountered this tree. Made up of separate images, manipulated in the dark room, it drew me in to gaze, consider, and be still.

Early afternoon we drove to Augusta so I could drop Beth off at the Order of Saint Helena convent, where she would be on a two-day silent retreat.

I imagine this is a really good way to go confetti-free. Instead for me, it was a 5-hour slog drive home.

Orchards of peach trees have gone confetti-free.

A detour on my drive added a couple of hours to the trip. I needed to pick up my custom-made Christmas tree.

Now this tree is a perfect example of confetti-free.

Advent I is tomorrow. As lector, I will read aloud the lessons which brought about the lectionary conversation about shouting. There’s a sense of shouting about upheaval in Luke’s Gospel. There’s mention of the natural world roaring and of the calamities that arose. We are reminded of the calamities of our own day. While we could be overwhlelmed, Jesus tells us to see these events with different eyes. Instead of being depressed or filled with inertia, Christians can see challenges.

John Gardner echoes the theme of treasure hidden in disaster: “We are all continually faced with a series of great opportunities, brilliantly disguised as insoluble problems.”

It’s time to enter the confetti-free zone.

It’s hard to put into words what a day Leaving Sunday was like.

It was such an emotional day. Highs and extreme highs. Joy and sorrow mixed together.

The day began with breakfast. Pancakes were baked by the men of the parish, and parishioners brought a huge variety of food-laden plates and platters.

One-hundred-fifty people attended breakfast. We were nicely stuffed in seating and sustenance.

Rev Beth and Rev Alan received “love” pancakes. Alan was a curate and then an assistant rector at St. Mary’s. He’s a favorite of mine. Now serving the Episcopal Diocese of South Carolina, he returned for this day.

A few gifts were presented. Each reflected a shared experience moment between parishioners and their priest, that will be remembered well beyond this time of separation.

Then we all gathered for the Leaving Service. It felt like we were all transported to a different plane. A place filled with uncommon prayer and praise. A place where these gathered souls held each other in their sorrow, in their shared love, and in their shared life now coming to a close.

A welcome to all.

Gifts that would be distributed during the service to parish ministries as a sign these would all continue.

Following the service, the people lined up for hugs, blessings, and farewells.

For myself, I was sought out by SO many with whom I have loved and been loved. We all pray our paths may cross again.

This morning brings my departure for home. It’s a beautiful day to fly.

Traveling mercies.