Author: cometsgirl

This day was devoted to time with family. Three generations. Two families brought together when our son and their daughter wed, some 26 years ago. The family grew with the birth of a daughter and son. We spent today together sharing stories, laughter and delight.

We feasted on words, smiles, hugs – and of course, lovely meals.

Georgia joined Papa and me for coffee this morning, followed by a trip to REI to shop for her upcoming state park camping trip West. Papa shared his expertise about camping provisions and we departed with necessaries to travel well, and to travel safe.

Just five months ago we witnessed her university commencement. In two weeks she has her own new beginning as she begins work as an RN.

The remainder of the day the eight of us spent sitting outside on the patio, remembering times we have journeyed together over the years. We recalled family histories that came before. Summer Texas breezes kept it cool enough to be outdoors.

Jack opened gifts as we continued our celebration of this time in his life.

Tomorrow we will leave at 5:30 am so as to be at the commencement venue when the doors open. Now it’s time for rest, anticipating joy and a new beginning ahead!

From Ephesians 3:20: God has more in store for you than you can even imagine.

As I previously mentioned, I’m in Texas to be present for a new beginning in Jack’s life.

The night before we left I witnessed a new beginning. One of the buds on my night-blooming cereus opened. It took just 20 minutes from the first hint of blossoming to full bloom.

Stunning.

So stunning that a bear came by for the viewing around 2am, knocking over a recently planted pot of parsley and awakening me. Good view of the visitor, though, as I gazed down on the deck. I wonder what array, or disarray, awaits my return.

Perhaps there are more “new beginnings” for all the plants I potted recently. I hope not. For now, those concerns are in my rear view mirror.

Here are some cloud views I enjoyed from my chair-in-the-sky as I journeyed to Texas.

Clouds certainly are filled with new beginnings as they constantly morph into new shapes.

Greeted by the family with hugs and smiles, we are on course to honor Jack for having met all graduation requirements in preparation for commencement. And then to witness that commencing as he crosses the dais and flips his tassel!

Both sets of grandparents, whom have each experienced many new beginnings, are here to enjoy and celebrate.

I begin this new day with a Texas sunrise, and morning coffee enjoyed outside – before that sun can accomplish its heating task.

For I know the plans I have for you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11.

The word commencement is derived from a 13th century French word meaning beginning or start. Commencement is the celebration of a new beginning, a new chapter in one’s life.

I’ve been saying I’m going to my grandson Jack’s graduation, when in fact I’m going to his commencement. One does not attend a graduation, because graduation is the completion of all education requirements and recorded accordingly.

Whew!  Aren’t we glad we have this clarified!

Today I will take my seat in a chair in the sky and journey to Keller, Texas, to be present for the commencement ceremony of my first grandson, Jack.  Having met all high school graduation requirements, he now commences to the next period of his life.

In his case, college. He’s headed to the University of Texas at Dallas. The Erik Jonsson School of Engineering and Computer Science is what first attracted him to this university, and ultimately to acceptance to the engineering school.

My son, Jack’s father, does a really good imitation of a peacock flapping its wings. Actually he’s demonstrating how he and the rest of the family see the way I express my pride, a proud Nana-peacock. And I am just that – super proud of Jack. I’ll be all puffed up at his commencement. And for the days that bookend this event.

I always look forward to hearing what the commencement speaker has to say to individuals who are embracing a new beginning.

I was privileged to hear J. K. Rowling give the commencement address at Harvard some few years ago.  She spoke about the value of failure. She said: “It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.”

She also talked about the power of human empathy. “Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s places.” This ability brings with it a responsibility. We are called into action. To alleviate distress – hunger, homelessness, thirst, loneliness, fear.

It was very inspiring.

Yesterday, while driving home from town, I was gobsmacked by the clouds overhead.  Several times I pulled over so as to take some photographs.  One in particular, struck me as an image of a new beginning, with opportunity to SOAR.

I’ll be soaring myself, shortly.

Traveling mercies.

I journeyed to Houston to be a piece of the return home for Beth. Her home, the church rectory, is such a beautiful and peace-filled space. While I have seen photographs of Harvey flooding this space, it is hard for me to imagine 5′ feet of water inside and out.

What I see today instead–

I see restoration of this place.

Walking around the backyard and through the neighborhood, I see much evidence of God’s creation restored. Mimosa and Vitex trees in bloom.

I see resilience. Potato vine and water lily.

I see new birth. Fig and lemon trees.

I see perseverance. Avocado tree. Rose bush.

I also see a newcomer to the neighborhood – one not entirely welcome. Bamboo.

And I see faith.

On this new day I see hope and promise.

This afternoon we made the return trip to Camp Allen, as Beth had another class to teach tonight.

We gathered for the Service of Evening Prayer, and once again the prayers in this space echoed in my spirit.

I was struck by the variety of fences we passed as we drove the back roads to Camp Allen.

Excerpts from Evening Prayer:

That this evening may be holy, good, and peaceful….

That your holy angels may lead us in paths of peace and goodwill….

That we may be pardoned and forgiven for our sins and offenses….

That there may be peace to your church….

That we may depart this life in your faith and fear, and not be condemned before the great judgment seat of Christ….

That we may be bound together by your Holy Spirit in the communion of all your saints, entrusting one another and all our life to Christ….

We entrust you, O Lord.

We bless you for our creation,

preservation,

and all the blessings of this life;

for the means of grace,

and for the hope of glory. Amen.

I’m on a two-day road trip of sorts. An East Texas road trip.

I have traveled to Houston to “go back home again” to Beth’s restored home, and to help with some necessary tasks for settling back into the home. Also to share good worship with the people of St. Mary’s and to enjoy Mother’s Day brunch with Beth.

And it turned out a road trip was on the travel agenda.

This afternoon we journeyed to Camp Allen, a hotel and conference center serving the Episcopal Diocese of Texas. It’s also a summer camp. My sons attended camp here as youngsters. It’s where they learned to sleep away from home. Good spiritual and independence formation.

When one gets beyond urban borders, East Texas has a special kind of beauty. Big, open countryside.

Reminds me of the Indigo Girls’ song Wide Open Spaces. “She needs wide open spaces, Room to make her big mistakes….”

I relished every twist and turn in the road, every field we passed.

After we arrived, I relished indoor spaces. This place and space is gorgeous, decorated with wood from the East Texas Piney Woods and with windows showcasing the views outside.

Tonight we were present for The Service of Evening Prayer.

“Now as we come to the setting of the sun, and our eyes behold the vesper light, we sing your praises….”.

Beth is here to teach students attending The Iona School for Ministry. This is a program of the diocese that provides training for those called to the bi-vocational priesthood or the diaconate.

Worship was led by one of the students and included a lovely homily. These words gave me pause: “We cannot love an invisible God if we don’t love our neighbors who are visible.”

Following the service I walked the labyrinth. As I twisted an turned on my way to the center and back, I heard the closing hymn playing in my ears and on my heart. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you, allelu, alleluia.”

While Beth teaches, I blog. Surrounded by so much beauty.

Alleluia indeed.

Here’s the bonus. I met one of the diaconate students. Turns out she is is Southwest Airlines pilot. And actually is the one who hired my pilot son some 15 years ago. Small world.

We drive home tonight, and return tomorrow afternoon. Road trippin’ in East Texas.

Traveling mercies.

My brother gave me this wind chime over a decade ago. He had come for a visit and believed these pieces of sea glass would hang beautifully on my screen porch. He was right.

Last night, as I enjoyed dinner on the porch, Evan pointed out the glass strips hanging behind me were shimmering as the sun’s last rays of the day were streaming through them. What a beautiful image.

I realized that these are shades of spring I see around me these first days of May.

I have irises blooming alongside my driveway in shades similar to the glass.

“Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.” Gerard de Nerval

“Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come.” Song of Songs 2:12.

Yesterday as I drove into a big box store parking lot, I gazed upward as I got out of my car.

“I look to the hills! Where will I find help? It will come from the Lord, who created the heavens and the earth.” This day in shades of spring.

I helped bury a friend today. An artist of textiles, her work hung in the church, surrounding us with the beauty she created, and now leaves in others’ care. Shades of spring. Shades of new life.

Serving as crucifer, I stood just inches from the freshly dug earth where her ashes were poured from a clay pitcher. Whoosh. Gone to new life. Shades of spring. Shades of everlasting life.

The calendar says it’s Spring.

The 71 degrees outside at noon says maybe. The expected temperature of 43 degrees tonight says not yet.

Still, I can’t help but see spring no matter which direction I look.

Driving to my home…

or driving from my home….

or driving to town….

or taking a walk along a path through my woods….

and having a sit on a bench my grandchildren help build years ago.

Spring has its own shades of green and I absolutely love this look.

I love, too, the promises of spring;

“Spring is humming
Bits of something
A melody the simple part
A song that I once knew by heart
Juniper, wild indigo
Foxglove, lupine, Queen Ann’s lace
Will be coming any day
The restlessness
The quickening
The almost but
Not yet.”     Carrie Newcomer

“The violets in the mountain have broken the rocks”. Tennessee Williams.

What in your life is calling you,
When all the noise is silenced,
The meetings adjourned…
The lists laid aside,
And the Wild Iris blooms
By itself
In the dark forest…
What still pulls on your soul?”      Rumi

All this to say I have declared Spring has sprung, and my soul is leaping for joy.  I’m watching the greening of the woods crawl up from the valley, with only about a 100 feet left to reach my home.

“Fair are the meadows, Fairer sill the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring;
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.”    Fairest Lord Jesus

My most intentional Lenten discipline was to make crosses. I used found objects, most of which were natural materials. As I journeyed through Lent I found I was always watching for objects to use in my cross-making, and I found, too, that I looked forward to the times when I would “slip into” my crafting time with God. It was a good thing.

While I did not set out to make one a day for 40 days, in the end I did make just that- 40 crosses.

Here are most of them.

One of the suggestions of what to do with the crosses was made by the author of the book that served as my inspiration to enter into this Lenten practice.  One suggestion was to bury the crosses. I was really attracted to that idea, especially when an image was painted for me of burial and resurrection. The crosses would be buried, yes, but there was the possibility that some of the seed pods I had used to adorn the crosses might actually sprout.

WOW, I thought.

Thinking about an upcoming visit from a grandson, I thought he might help me bury the crosses.  After he arrived, and I explained what I was thinking, he suggested that we place the crosses “in” some of the foliage surrounding my home. That way the crosses would still return to the earth, but it would be possible to see them for as long as they remained in or on the branches and leaves, with always the possibility of seeds being dispersed.

Today we set out to return the crosses.

Just beyond the swing is a bank of rhododendrons. You’ll see – sort of – the crosses scattered there.

From the woods, mostly; now returned.

In this age of having information available at one’s fingertips, how does that old saying equate today? Yes, it’s an old saying. Yet, it is true today. Originally it referred to something being physically within one’s reach or in one’s hand.

These days the perspective could be seen as having one’s fingertips on any number of devices, where information is easily accessed.

I have information on my mind because today was filled with a mixture of truth and fiction, all delivered as if it was correct. All delivered in a manner of authority.

This mixture of fact and fiction took place in the Atlanta airport.

Evan and were at the airport to pick up our grandson who was traveling solo for the first time. All the way from Seattle. It was important to be at the gate on time.

Information I had been given a few days ago about traversing security without actually traveling, turned out to be inaccurate. Then began a marathon of steps and inquisition. A mixture of true and false facts sent us crisscrossing terminals, ticket counters, security lines, both expedited and slogged.

I marveled at how opposing facts were given in response to questions.

I had information overload right at my fingertip, that’s for certain. All “sold” as an umpire sells a call.

We had 2 1/2 hours to navigate to the gate where our grandson would deplane. We made it with no more than 5 minutes to spare.

Information at my fingertips. Mis-information at my fingertips as well. Most importantly, my grandson arrived safe and sound and now sleeps soundly just upstairs.