A Musing Table: More than One Way to "Bear"

Hope everyone had a wonderful Shabbat and Sabbath. Been discerning my own....I really like keeping both Shabbat and the Sabbath, but the sad result has been that i kind of "halfways" keep both...and that has to change. So this weekend, at least the Sabbath was kept more in full. Praying that the rhythms will fall in place here however they should, becuase i sure still want to keep Shabbat-ness in this. Shabbat is just so precious, and Our Blessed Mother herself lit those Shabbat candles. Yet lately i've had to admit that when i try and "sabbath the whole weekend" in a sense by keeping both Shabbat and Sabbath, it just never seems to happen, both days get kind of "half kept". Anyway, discerning. And discerning some other things...

Krina linked to an article of artist Keri Smith's recently, one that kind of stirred something. It was an article about being a mother, and somehow reading it i was struck by some of the deep similarities there are between becoming a parent and obtaining a serious chronic illness/injury. Both turn your outer life upside down, as well as your inner life/perspective. With both, your mundane practical moment to moment life each and every day, well its never the same again. Ever. Its almost like you have become a different person suddenly. Sometimes your life before looks like somebody else's life really, its just so very unlike yours now. And both bearing and caring for a child, and bearing and caring for a chronic condition, involve both pain... and fruit. Both can be viewed as either a burden or a gift. Both are something you must care for, carry, tend to, watch over, respond to, love. Both are given by Our Creator. Both can be part of a spiritual path (that may sound strange, but just look at all the Saints who lived with serious chronic conditions, it was quite common). Most of all, both can wake one up to what is truly important in life.

This is a piece from Keri's mothering article. Definite parellel to those living with serious chronic pain/illness:

"...I thought I would feel more like I know what I am doing as a parent. it's like every other creative endeavor I've ever done...I'm just winging it most days, in a "let try this and see what happens". I always thought you would know exactly what to do.

...I have lost all sense of being (or attempting to be) graceful in this role. I never feel entirely put together physically. I've given up on getting somewhere on time.

...on some days my creative life has become a series of "doing whatever possible in the time allotted to get the job done". you know that game where the gophers pop their little fuzzy heads up out of a hole and you have to hit them as fast as you can with a large mallet before they pop back down again? It's like that.

...but then on other days there are moments of calm where a kind of routine sets in, and on those days i often feel like, "this is a piece of cake". my life and work feel seamless and doable, (and this happens fairly often if I am to be truthful). I want to have five more children and live in a big wonky house full of happy children with dogs and a pond and chickens, and maybe even a horse or two. And I will invite all of my friends who have children to come and swim in the pond and we will cook and laugh and drink wine together and I will be a kind of supermom. a mom powerhouse who can change 10 diapers at once, and calm a crying baby in seconds, a kind of amazing "baby whisperer" and people in the neighborhood will talk about me like I am some kind of baby god. and then usually the baby wakes up. and sometimes if he is screaming for a while I have found myself thinking, "How does anyone ever manage two of them?"

...i get into the most trouble when I am clinging to "needing" to get something done in the time frame that I want it to be done. It is a difficult shift to realize that you no longer call the shots. If I attempt to control how and when, I end up very frustrated. Even knowing this fact I still fight it constantly. It is strange to not be able to take a nap when I need one like I used to. You have no choice but to push through that fatigue. Most days i am lucky to get in two hours for my work, (and I am lucky to have a husband that works at home right now).

...something in my body feels more complete than I ever have before. complete in the sense that I feel a part of a family, there is a huge comfort in that for me. I feel connected to something very important. My life has a focal point now. I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

And that focal point, that wake up, can come from a child, but it can also come from living with a life changing sort of pain....when it deepens your spiritual life. And it sure can. Maybe becuase it wakes up your dependency so much that it practically "forces" you to turn to God. When you live with serious pain and limits, there is no longer the illusion of strength or independence, we must turn to Him. Longing merging with need, its a powerful thing.

Co-in-see-dance-ally, have been reading a 1940's novel that ended up going into this stuff in a way, its one i quoted a bit back too, called 'My Heart Shall Not Fear" by Josephine Lawrence. Turned out to be an amazing book, i'd definitely recommend it to anyone looking for a good read. It begins by centering on a woman named Patience, who has just had her first child. It's turned her whole world upside down....in a good way, but also her fears about the future really zoom up. So family and friends come visting her in the hospital each sharing their wisdom on mothering, and life in general. One person is notably absent though, her sister-in-law Heather, who had a hospital stay recently too, though noone has been told why yet (it was for cancer). As Patience is learning to embrace her life as a parent, Heather on the other hand is going through a spiritual change of her own. In this qoute below, she is pondering the fact that she has never been blessed with a child (she was unable to bear a child, which used to mourn her deeply), and now even adoption looks hopeless becuase of her illness. And things unfold from there...

"An invalid couldn't hope to be allowed to adopt a child. Heather, hospitalized a few weeks before Patience expected to be confined (for her pregnancy), recognized the justice of that in the long night hours when she could not sleep. To her surprise she discovered that lassitude and indifference replaced her eagerness and the hunger in her dulled. Illness, she dimly realized, narrowed her world, and at the same time she understood the absorption that had subtly altered Patience in the months of her pregnancy. You cared less, somehow, and in caring less you also cared more. There were days in which no one existed for Heather or had claim on her love, except Ross (her husband).

"I would rather rest a little more, before i see people", she said when he brought her home from the hospital again and installed Mrs Warren as combination nurse and dragon (my insert: can't help but think of the very nurse-like St Martha in her role of dragonslayer).

But the strange indifference to the friends who had thronged the apartment in the three years of her marriage did not change. They wrote to her and sent her flowers--until they learned that she could not bear to have them in her room---and they called. Mrs. Warren met them, told them something kindly and firmly (Heather thought it did not matter what she said), and turned them away.

Tonight the knowledge that Ross had gone to St. Luke's to see Patience and the baby had directed the flow of Heather's thoughts towards her sister-in-law. Patience, she mused, had everything. A husband, a baby, youth and health--

"But i have more." Heather opened her eyes at the sound of her whisper. In the subdued light the narrow, orderly room seemed to recieve her as a traveler reteurned from a journey. How long had she been away?... She lay motionless, wrapped in a new, abiding peace. Patience had so much, but she, Heather, had gone farther and had learned what every woman would like to know and is afraid to discover: whether love is to fail her in her greatest need.

She knew now, beyond the shadow of any doubt, with the beautiful bright certainty of a fixed star, that nothing was ever to tarnish love for her or for Ross. Women could never be sure until some powerful test, merciliess and cruel and imposed without their consent, furnished the incontrovertible proof. The fortunate ones, like Heather Garrison, were ever after anointed and secure.

Rich and warm and sweet, the heavenly feeling that she had come out upon the mountaintop posessed Heather. ....

All women were afriad of the loss of love, Heather thought again. Men seldom understood, becuase they considered women possessive, when they were, in reality posessed. All the time and money and effort that women spent in training themselves to find substitutes for love were dust in the mouth and and ashes in the heart. Only, of course, young women growing up in a scientific age with their biological functions explained and their emotions decried, would make the discovery too late.

Perhaps, Heather reflected, God in his mercy devised pain as a crucible to help women select the true values for themsleves. No matter what learned professors thought about women's minds, their bodies could not be altered, although if you listened to the scientists you would not hear them admit this. Women, learning the limitations of their flesh, found for themselves the things that could not be destroyed.

Patience had begun to learn, and she, Heather, held the true answer in the hollow of her hand. The most fortunate women in the world were those who had come through great tribulation and could still believe in love"

Of course though, this is not only about the love of an earthly husband but also our Heavenly one as well : ) I just really love that qoute.

Well, Peaceful week all : ) ....

(Images from here and here)

A Musing Table: On "Closing Doors"

Part One: Closed Doors as Unopened Gifts

Christine over at Abbey of the Arts is having a gathering on the theme of closing doors. And it just so happens i'm in the middle of a book that goes into this a bit. The book is from 1949, called "My Heart Shall Not Fear" by Josephine Lawrence. In one scene, a character named Nellie meets a young woman who has completely closed the door to ever having a child, out of fear becuase a friend of hers died in childbirth. Though empathizing, Nellie tries to steer the girl away from just slamming closed such an important door. At one point she tells her "any fear is always worse than the fear itself". And i just cant get that out of my head lately. That so often its when you are actually IN a situtaion that you are given the Grace to get through it...not in the over-worry time beforehand. That's why the worry is often much worse to go through than the situation itself, as odd as it sounds. And so when doors are closed just out of fearful worry, the richness of life can sure dwindle.

Reminds of of a favorite reflection from Margie at The Fruitful Vine:

"I am amazed to find that, now that (my husband's) cancer has recurred, my daily life is not as horrible as I had feared it would be. Fear is one way the Enemy robs and steals from me. Fear robs the joy of the present moment. Fear cannot access the presence of God in the future. Each day is full of the presence of God when I am actually living it. I cannot practice the presence of God in a future day, only today. In other words, when I feed a fear, my imagination of the difficult situation is WITHOUT the presence of God. Don't borrow trouble from tomorrow, for each day has enough trouble of its own. Thank you Lord, that You are in this day with me."

Now my problems aren't anywhere near as deep as this courageous soul's. She has since writing this later lost her husband, and still continues to join suffering with trust rather than becoming drowned in too much fear. I long to learn from her. Becuase honestly, my fear right now is pretty out of control...over bugs.

To some that must sound inane, but allow me to share the full picture here. One of the things i love most about living out here on the "prarie" is the nature here. Never before for instance have i seen mule deer (not to mention a baby mule deer) or owl families out in the wild. Yet here, i see them often, and much more...and its been just amazing. Yet there are also...the bugs. I remember back when living in Portland, i seldom found so much as a spider inside really. Ditto when on the coast. But now here, oh boy...A bit back i discovered (the hard way through an unwelcome vistor found feeding on my leg after a walk ) that this is tick country. So i gave up my favorite walking places in the pretty fields and opted for the open roads instead. Fine. But it hasnt stopped there. Next i discovered there are fleas out and about too (again, the hard way). So...do flea check each time before coming in. A pain, but...fine. Now, yesterday, i discovered there are deer flies in this area too...and one flew right inside yesterday. Not good at all. Those little guys are vicious, they icepick your skin quite painfully i hear and then they draw blood, not to mention spread diseases. So have been mega diligent now about opening and closing the entry door so quickly its like a cartoon blurr...and so far no more have gotten in the house. So....(pressure building)...but... "fine".

Now today, a line has been crossed and things are definitely no longer "fine". I was out on the patio eating dinner and saw a wasp climb inside---as in it went inside the wall of the trailer--- through a hidden crevice he found outside. Obviously the thing must be building a nest in there, and i have no idea how far along it is. I feel very lucky my fiance was there when i saw this or i would have lost it even deeper....but trust me, i still lost it plenty. And am still very shaken up. Though i've (thank you Lord) never been stung to test it, i've been told i'm likely allergic to wasp venom, based on my body's reaction to some other things. And now there may be wasp nest building inside the very walls of my home. I don't even have the option of spraying to get rid of it becuase i cant be around pesticdes at all due to having EI (environmental illness/chemical sensitivity).

I dont know the status of the situation yet. The one wasp that flew in there (the only one we saw fly in anyway) flew out awhile later the same way he came in. I wasnt sure if the opening should be sealed then or not becuase i wasnt sure if any other wasps were in there yet or not...havent seen any, but that doesnt neccesarily mean there arent. So went back and forth and finally decided to seal it...and then that one wasp returned trying to get back in that sealed crevice and when it couldnt get in it flew off. If that was the only wasp in there and we can hunt and seal any hidden openings like crazy asap, we may be saved. If there are more wasps in there already and theyve been sealed in though, ive heared thats bad becuase then they come into the living spaces looking for new exits. I am praying my you know what off...and would appreciate it SO much if anyone wanted to join in. I know this sounds silly, but the fear is real here.

And so yes... looks like i'm probably closing doors out of my fear here. I stopped walking in the fields becuase of the ticks. Stopped being carefree about coming in and out becuase of the fleas (doing bug checks each and every time you come in, well it really takes the ease out of coming and going). Have become a door natzi, opening and closing doors like speedly gonzales so as to not let the deer flies in. And now i am jittery becuase of this potential wasp situation...they sleep at night but are up early, long before i am...and i fear getting stung in my sleep (or when awake too for that matter) if they do end up inside here. And all of this definitey impacts my relationship with my fiance too, becuase i need him to do the same steps i am here so he doesnt bring in bugs either...something he is having a stressful time with. Fear is definitely shaping life here in its own way, and closing doors, and its likely not good. But im not sure what to do exactly. Caution here is healthy i think, and diligence too.....but i dont know how to draw the line to stop fear from taking root and knocking out trust. Been trying to pray and breathe deep and read the qoutes above over and over too. Maybe it really is true that "any fear is always worse than the fear itself".

Part Two: Closed Doors as a Walled Garden

That book i qouted from was from 1949 as mentioned. Its been a wonderful book so far (still reading it) and most stuff there feels hugely applicable still today. The avoiding closing good doors out of fear part included. And yet..... it also seems that the bigger trap today is about being afriad to close the surplus doors (and boy do we open surplus doors today!). There can't be too many open doors in life and still leave a person with a calm and peaceful life. The theme now seems to be an increasing overdrive in expansion, speed and busyness....which doesnt exactly give you a container, leaves you without the healing limits of a true home, doesnt let you take root and prune and bloom.

I'm reminded of a dream, from back on Candlemas. I have this really neat stick in real life, it came from a beach walk and rests on a shelf above the table. In the dream, i woke up one morning and saw that my plain beach stick now had a fresh live green bud growing out of it, like a little Jesse Tree, and it also had these really lovely intricate scrolls carved all over the wood now. I was holding in the dream, treasuring it, and thinking....so this is why we need to simplify, because it will all get em-bell-ished in the end. In the dream i was looking around the room, thinking what it would be like if i had a lot of clutter and it all suddenly bloomed and embellished. It would be totally overwhleming, painful really, confusion. But this stick in the purposely sparse room blooming...well that felt so peaceful and rich.

Later after the dream i realized its more than this too...that that blooming may not even be able to properly happen at all if things arent pruned back and simplified...in short, some real doors must be closed, or kept closed, for a deep life. Am reminded of a few favorite posts here. A qoute from one of them, from Sailing By Starlight, is this:

"Peace means a giving up of something. Something that defines. To let God's light to seep through the hard outlines of ourselves. Like ink across an etching.

Psalms 147:14 "He maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finest of the wheat."

Before I had children I had more time, more money, more so called freedom, many different choices and a lot less responsibility. Yet there was no peace.

I struggled, I searched I pressed on. I filled my days with things, and questions, and wishing and waiting, and then more things...

Peace. can only be held in an empty cup. "

For the other favorites on this "closing doors as healing" theme....well, i'm still a bit wasp stressed right now so think will just list the links (just press each one to go to the posts). They are from Study in Brown, Holy Experience, Pursuing Titus 2 (and here too), and the Carmelite view of Holy Poverty.... Definitely worth reading, i promise.

So closing here, i sit here longing to discern which precious doors are being closed just out of lack of trust, longing for that healed. And yet... having too many open doors, our own "surplus doors", is just as real a problem. Closing doors in a sense is a very real part of having a simpler and rooted life, of pruning to bloom, of... deepening peacefulness. Peace is after all one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit....and fruit needs pruning, needs healing "walls" around it, needs limits, to be able to soak up the nourishment it needs to even even bloom at all. A closed door can simply become a wall after all....and we all know how important walls are to a true Home....

(Images from French Word a Day and Lynn Miller)

Scripture passage that wont let go lately...

Be careful for nothing;
but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving
let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding,
shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report;
if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise,
think on these things. --Philippians 4:6-8

And there is also a blog qoute that's stood out lately, from here:

(Some) "feel guilty" because their husbands have to work everyday, while they, the wives, "are not contributing." It grieves me to hear this, because it is a quote straight from the mouth of Karl Marx, author of the Communist Manifesto. He claimed women at home were "not contributing," and did much harm to the home... The words of the Bible, addressed to young women, are quite the opposite of those of Marx. The Holy Spirit said that women contribute the most by being helpmeets to their husbands, and it shows them how to do that by guiding and guarding the home. This was well-understood by generations before us.

(Images are close ups taken from the lovely photography of Melissa Howard of Those Northern Skies, from here and here)

A Grateful Table: God, Our HERO in the Storm

As some of you know, my patron saint last year was St Lucia and this year is St Boniface. Been thinking about him a lot lately, and especially how heroic he was towards many women in his life. It is helping me feel more and more just how heroic God really is. To unravel...

Had posted about St Boniface before on the old blog, but in a nutshell he is known for his establishing Christianity more deeply in Germany, Belguim and the Netherlands in the early middle ages, particularly through building many Benedictine monastories. Truly he brought great beauty and order and faith in a time when things were increasingly violent and chaotic, definitely no small thing. He is considered the founding father of the church still in Germany to this day. Some key events are especially remembered in his life, such as his felling an oak tree that had been rather fearfully connected with Thor...and thus also freeing an evergreen tree it had been smothering, which became the first Christmas tree. Many converted in the wake of his lifelong efforts.

But its the more personal side that draws me most to St Boniface. He knew, deeply, what it meant to be a pilgrim, journeying to a strange country to deepen the faith. But also...about our lives themselves as a pilgrimage. He understood our frailness in this life, of feeling tossed by the sea and needing so deeply a rudder. I love this qoute from a letter of his, " I am shaken by my shortcomings, that take hold of me as though I were tossed by a tempest on a dangerous sea." It is typical of the imagry he uses. It was more than that though, it was an understanding that others felt this way too, others he supported in the "storm". He became a true protector.

St Boniface's time was almost a precursor to the future horrors of Henry the VIII and the like. It was a time when monasteries in some areas were absolutely unprotected, at the mere whim of the mood of the local prince who could easily invade or rob them at any time, degrading the life there, seducing the nuns, or worse. Respecting monastic life was a joke to these rulers and so a monastic’s life was incredibly vulnerable, especially the women, it was just horrible. And the letters St Boniface receives from these women affected are so moving. It looks like some of them are about "simple" things like the state of real poverty these monasteries had been brought to, others of a deeper sense of danger, and still others had lost their ability to even live a prayerful life under the instability. This letter to me expresses the feeling under many of them, from here :

"on account of the pressing miseries we have now insisted on to the full, we needs must find a true friend, one whom we can trust more than ourselves; who will treat our grief, our miseries and our poverty as his own, who will sympathize with us, comfort us, support us by his words, and raise us up by wise counsel. Long have we sought him. And we believe that in you we have found the friend whom we longed for, whom we wished for, whom we desired.”

They needed a true friend and a protector..and through him they sure had one. Big time. He worked ceaselessly it seems for the protection of women like this (men too; but it looks like he had a very strong chivalrous streak that led him to a special protection of many women, God bless him). In some cases he fought for changes where they were, in other cases he brought them into his own jurisdiction and made real concrete provisions for them. And he also wasn't afriad to ask them to pray for him in his own struggles...fully trusting in prayer as worth much. I just love this guy.

One really cool thing about the letters between St Boniface and many of these women is that they reveal how learned many of the woman monastics were in his day. Many knew Latin, and were quite involved in manuscript writing and the high art of gold illumination and the like. And some of these women he encouraged, and supported, in coming to Germany and founding abbeys there. There are many, but St Lobia is a well known example. From here:

“Boniface travelled from England to Germany proselytizing amongst the pagan tribes there and establishing monasteries for both men and women. St Lioba, St Boniface's kinswoman, was a nun in Wessex who had studied under Mother Tetta (in secular life, Cuthberga, sister of the King of Wessex, wife of the King of Northumbria). Boniface sent for Lioba to come to Germany, because she was a skilled Classicist, learned in the Scriptures, the Church Fathers, canon law and the decrees of all the councils. In fact, she was never without a book in her hand, reading at every possible opportunity and she never forgot what she read. Her name 'Lioba' means 'Beloved'. Boniface asked that her bones be laid by his at her death. Charlemagne's wife adored her but Lioba hated the life of court like poison.

Her life tells, among others, this story: 'She had a dream in which one night she saw a purple thread issuing from her mouth. It seemed to her that when she took hold of it with her hand and tried to draw it out there was no end to it. . . When her hand was full of thread and it still issued from her mouth she rolled it round and round and made a ball of it .' An old and prophetic nun was asked about the meaning of the dream and explained that it referred to Lioba's wise counsels spoken from her heart. 'Furthermore, the ball which she made by rolling it round and round signifies the mystery of the divine teaching, which is set in motion by the words and deeds of those who give instruction and which turns earthwards through active works and heavenwards through contemplation, at one time swinging downwards through compassion for one's neighbour, again swinging upwards through the love of God.'

The image of the ball of purple thread in Lioba's hand is similar to Julian's hazel nut in the palm of her hand."

Then yesterday, i happened to come accross St. Walburga, who was yet another amazing kinswoman of St Boniface's, whom he helped to establish an abbey. From here:

"She lived from 710 to 779 and was one of the most popular saints of the Middle Ages. She was born in England and educated by English Benedictines. St. Boniface asked England for help in the missionary work in Germany. Because St. Walburga was open to this call, she left her homeland in England and devoted her life to the conversion of Germany. Walburga became the Abbess of a double Benedictine monastery in Heidenheim. She was responsible for the spiritual and material welfare of both the monks and the nuns. St. Walburga was respected and loved during her lifetime. People remembered her deep prayer life, charity, and courage, as well as miracles of healing when she prayed for them. The legends written about her after her death give us a good picture of her spirit. One of these stories is

The Light Miracle

One night when Walburga asked one of the monks to light the candles so that she could go to her room, he refused. Walburga had to find her way alone in the darkness. When her sisters came to accompany her to supper, the hallway was lighted, not by candles, but by a divine light. It lit the dormitory brightly until time for the office of Matins. The nuns went to Walburga, filled with joy over the miracle, and she prayed to the Lord in these words:

"Oh Lord, as a humble maid who committed my life to you since my youth, I thank you for granting this grace. You have honored me in my unworthiness with the comfort of your light. This sign gives courage to the souls of your handmaids who are dependent on me. And you have driven out the darkness and our fear through the bright light of your mercy."

This prayer gives a good idea of who she was. "

There is something i am so moved by here that i have a hard time expressing. Something about these women in St Boniface's life, they so appeal to the heroic in a man...and in God. They remind us that we have the image of a man as knight and gentleman and hero and provider and protector of the vulnerable, all for a very good reason: becuase God himself is these things. God is...a HERO. As a woman especially, that does something profound to my heart, a heart longing for such heroic rescue. A heart slowly gaining the courage to say..."we needs must find a true friend, one whom we can trust more than ourselves; who will treat our grief, our miseries and our poverty as his own, who will sympathize with us, comfort us, support us by his words, and raise us up by wise counsel. Long have we sought him. And we believe that in you we have found the friend whom we longed for"....

(Images from here (#17), and here)

A Sabbath Table: To Re-call is to Re-turn

I was talking to my Prince (my fiance) and telling him i like the nature here so much i might just start getting up for the sunrise. Knowing me too well he just smiled and said "are you sure you don't mean staying up for the sunrise?" And while that sure wasnt the plan, its actually what happened today, here i am still up and the birds out there are singing their predawn "Morning Offering"

The Morning Offering was mentioned in the last post, about setting a hopeful, grateful and trustful tone for the day. But it doesnt stop there of course, things can go astray throughout the day and we sure may need to "call ourselves back". This site wisely suggests a simple prayer such as "All for Thee, Jesus!"

Personally, what helps me, if i will let it that is, is just simply remembering....remembering that i have permission to be happy, permission even as fill in the blank is happening. Permission to be happy because it is safe to be happy. Safe to be happy becuase i am truly in His care. If i had to translate this into a prayer it would be perhaps, "Lord i put my trust in you". If i had to translate this into an image it is those very birds out there doing their "morning praise" like they do every morning before the dawn...and who then re-new and re-turn with little songs coming forth throughout the day. If the birds can re-call like this, surely we might as well....and its such a healing image i feel.

In traditional Judaism there is a phrase i love, "he who has returned". Its referring to one who has returned to their faith, and i think this re-mem-ber-ing is a sort of return we must do daily, its qoutidian. I was listening to a radio interview with Genevieve Kineke the other day where she was reminding that the righteous man sins seventy times seven times a day. We should just know this, be prepared for it, prepared to forgive. I'm not talking about staying with folks who are deliberately harmful, but rather those that care and still fall...becuase we all do. Yet each morning its wiped clean, a new start with a song of praise...and we need to give that new start each day to each other too i feel, and to ourselves. A realizing that this is qoutidian, something we must do over and over...and yet there is healing there.

Its like cleaning and ordering, that great "qoutidian mystery"...it has to be done over and over again for sure, and yet thats no reason to give up and not do it, becuase as we do it there is truly healing, there is beauty, and there is fruit and growth as well. So it is with our re-turn-ing i think. Our re-turn-ing is perhaps a hidden gift He has given us.

I love this qoute from The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and "Women’s Work" by Kathleen Norris:

"It is a quotidian mystery that dailiness can lead to despair and yet also be at the core of our salvation. We express this every time we utter the Lord’s Prayer. As Simone Weil so eloquently stated it in her essay, "Concerning the Our Father," the "bread of this world" is all that nourishes and energizes us, not only food but the love of friends and family...She reminds us that we need to keep praying for this food, acknowledging our needs as daily, because in the act of asking, the prayer awakens in us the trust that God will provide. But, like the manna that God provided to Israel in the desert, this "bread" cannot be stored. Each day brings with it not only the necessity of eating but the renewal of our love of and in God."

A Blessed Sabbath everyone : )

(Image from Chant Art)

A Forgiveness Table: Restoring What the Locusts Have Eaten

This must seem a pretty odd image for April...but it actually snowed here a bit this morning! First snow i've seen in over a year (i'm a winter baby at heart so snow is treasure). But more than this, this image reminds me of the restored treasure of childhood. To explain...

One thing moving about Pope Benedict's recent visit was this: his heartfelt apology to clergy-abused children (if an abuser can even still call himself clergy). I really love Feminine Genius' reflection on this, definitely going in the heart's treasure chest:

"Our Lord (said) "Woe to those who scandalise the little ones," tying His comment to millstones and mandates. The harm, of course, colours an entire life, which is the point. And yet God also promised "I will restore the years the locusts have eaten" (Joel). All of us who choose forgiveness can have the miracle of restoration in a way that cannot be explained scientifically. It simply happens -- to that I can attest."

(Image source unknown)

A Musing Table: Of Deer Paths and Heart Prayers

Been really taken with the area of "heart prayers" lately. Others call them breath prayers. Came across this when following a little course on creating a rule of life awhile back (they call it a life rhythm, see here). From it:

"Discovering your breath prayer:

Begin by spending time in God’s presence, allowing yourself to settle into a place of comfort and intimacy, receptivity and restful repose.

Then imagine Jesus calling you by name and asking, “____________, what do you want?” ... Allow your truest answer to come up from your heart, and express this to God...

Work with the words or the phrase that comes until you feel that it captures your desire as truly as possible right now. This word or phrase will become the heart of your breath prayer.

Choose your favorite image or name for God as you are relating to him right now, such as God, Jesus, Father, Creator, Redeemer, Spirit, Breath of Life, Desire of the Nations, Lord, Shepherd—whatever best captures your sense of who God is to you at this point in your relationship. ...(and) combine your name for God with the expression of your heart’s desire. Place it where it is easiest to say in the rhythm of your breathing.

If various possibilities come, write them down and eliminate or combine until you have a prayer of about six to eight syllables that flows smoothly when spoken aloud and captures the core of your deep yearning for wholeness and well-being in Christ. Your breath prayer could be a phrase from a biblical prayer or Scripture passage. Just make sure it is short enough that it prays easily in the rhythm of your breathing.

Once you have chosen your breath prayer, pray it into the spaces of your day—when you are waiting in line or in traffic, when you are worried or anxious, when you are needing some sense of God’s presence. Over time, learn to pray it underneath all the other thoughts and words that swirl around you throughout your daily interactions. In times of solitude, pray this prayer as way of entering into silence and of bringing your mind back to your desire when it begins to wander. Use the breath prayer God has given you consistently until you feel this prayer no longer captures your deepest need or desire or until God gives you another one."


Our heart prayers can come simply in other ways too, like dreams. Many years ago i had this dream about "follow the path of the reindeer", and as funny as it may sound to others, remembering that phrase helps me, its been a kind of heart prayer. And this all came up again recently, since one of the most precious things about living here has been the deer. Tuesday was a challenging day (a toxic fieldday (toxic for those of us with EI) was had in a dentist office, long story). But in the morning i had seen a deer in the yard, and something about being around their gentleness kind of "held" me during the day and actually helped make the day quite special in the end. It’s the same deer little family that keeps visiting here, and yesterday they were down by the water, and then right outside the trailer, i was in the yard and they allowed me to get about 8-10 feet from them, it was such a moving experience! Gratefully goes in the heart's "treasure chest" : )

So i've been thinking more about deer lately. Two bible verses come to mind,

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.
--Psalm 42:1

The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.
--Song of Solomon 2:8-9

And another experience comes to mind, from last month. It was late at night and i heared a rustling outside, and then suddenly felt this amazing calm, it felt soooo nice...definitely not my usual reaction when there is a noise outside late at night! Found out later it was a deer, and i was just amazed at the huge calming effect they have. What is it that helps them calm so much?

Turned to my finace about this, he has lived with deer (and plenty of bears and eagles too) with his work in Alaska. And he ws explaining to me how they lived. What jumped out was their paths. They spend part of the year together but when the stags grow their antlers then they are separate a lot from the does, because of a need around paths.

For the doe (female) and also the young, they stay in more brushy and wooded areas for protection. And these paths, when they go up steep hills, wind like a ribbon rather than go up straight, to create a more gentle (if longer) climb.

But not so for the stags (males) when they have their antlers. They keep to the more exposed open areas, even though its more dangerous...otherwise their antlers would get tangled in the brush (funny how thats how they are created). And their paths uphill go straight up steeply and quickly, rather than gently ribbon like the doe paths do.

Something about this, about the heroic exposure of those stag paths and the higher protection of those doe paths, that lovely maleness and femaleness felt there, moves me. But its more, its also that deer really do like to stay on their paths, on their old paths carved through the generations, even more so than many other animals. Its like that original (as opposed to its later abuse) "scribe" feeling, of lovingly following and beautifying rather than trying to reinvent the wheel.

And then there is the deer’s gentleness, the feeling with which they walk their path. Now i'm not talking about the stags in heat (things are far from gentle then, they are like a knight in battle in their own way, God love 'em). But the gentleness during many other times with the stag, or during most all times with the doe. Truly, this is just such a moving thing, and being around it has such an effect. Its part of their "path", and in their soft eyes, their tender movements. And the paths we follow have such a huge effect, understatement. More and more, i am finding myself less concerned with things like petty denominations and more concerned with a woman's walk leading to a "meek and quiet spirit" somehow. Those gentle does and their paths, they are sure there with bells on. And deer are part of our Christmas traditions to boot, through the lovely Yule traditions of the Nordic lands. I get the feeling, and its such a nice feeling, that deer understand the true magic of life. A magical sense of life born out of the trust and joy of knowing we are cherished, and of simply and gently following. Following those ancient, softly beckoning paths in the wood....

(First image adapted from The Home Realm, second one from The Northern Lights Route)

A Musing Table: Finding Our "Calm Duty"

Someone far from harbour you may guide across the bar,
Brighten the corner where you are.--From a 1913 hymn

Isn't it better to be motivated by calm duty...(to) be that sun?--Lady Lydia (from here)

I've always been drawn to the homemaker as the "sunbeam in the home" (here). And i was struck today by the phrase "calm duty" there. That it is when we do our calm duty that we can be the sunbeam in the home. Those words, they well...calm me.

Becuase really, we can't do our CALM duty unless we are doing what we are meant to be doing, can we? And that is unique to each of us really, even to those who outwardly seem to be doing the same thing, like being a keeper at home. The truth is, there are many ways to be domestic.

Imagining Martha and Mary for instance, both took care of their home i'm sure, both were domestic...but i imagine they each did so uniquely. Maybe Martha focused more on stocking up well, making many things, perfecting her routines to get the most done she could, and being very efficient in her homemaking (think Proverbs 31)...maybe these were the sorts of things that inspired her there, that productivity aspect, that being able to "see" the fruit there. But maybe Mary focused more on taking her time in her household duties, on keeping a handle on the feeling there, keeping her heart and her homemaking...and thus her home...calm and orderly and peaceful as a priority (think Proverbs 8). Maybe that was what inspired her, that calm order and peace, and being able to "feel" the fruit there.

I know its not that clear cut, that we will overlap with these things. But the thing is, we do have different temperments, and to do our "calm duty" we need to embrace our temperment rather than fight it i think. A Mary trying to keep at home like a Martha will just be miserable, and vice versa. And we cant become the "sunbeam in the home" that way.

Misery by the way, i think this is different than pain. Some of us live with chronic pain and limits (here) from some physical conditions. Others live with great emotional pain (here) through the loss of a loved one or other painful things. One can have pain, and still be a sunbeam in the home. I love this qoute from Mabel Todd's "Beautiful Girlhood" (from here):

"Live in the sunshine. Look on the bright side, for there is always a bright side. No matter how a girl is situated in life, she can find something to be thankful for...Is she strong and well? She then has a heritage that can be used to good advantage in this busy world, but if she is weak and frail her life can brighten the home. Often the sick one is the most cheery of the family, in spite of her pain. Everyone can be a sunshine bearer."

Pain softens your heart really, and ironically can be a real opening for becoming a "sunbeam in the home". Ever notice how many "angel in the home" (here) type women live with great pain? Such as the physical pain of Beth in Little Women or the emotional pain of Sarah Crewe in A Little Princess ? Truly, pain can be a door to softening our hearts and becoming a "sunbeam". But not so with misery. Misery instead is from fighting your nature i think, pushing yourself to live in way you were not designed for.

I just long more and more to unravel what my own "calm duty" may be, as this unfolds in life day by day. I long deep down to be that sunbeam, to "brighten that corner where you are", to somehow "guide across the harbor" with a quiet light in the window. And more and more i am realizing that would be enough, just to find each day what that quiet light could be.

I remember an old Home Living post, about a woman who used to simply sew in her window, how just her being there at home quietly doing this was such an inspiration. How truly, we don't all need to be "out there" and "spreading the Word" and all that to be a light. There is more than one way to serve. There is more than one way to be a "sunbeam"....

PS: Just can't help but share here SnowWhite's "sunbeam in the home" song : )

WITH A SMILE AND A SONG

With a smile and a song
Life is just a bright sunny day
Your cares fade away
And your heart is young

With a smile and a song
All the world seems to waken anew
Rejoicing with you
As the song is sung

There's no use in grumbling
When the raindrops come tumbling
Remember, you're the one
Who can fill the world with sunshine

When you smile and you sing
Everything is in tune and it's spring

And life flows along
With a smile and a song

The video for this song btw is here; and some
other Snow White favorites are here and here.

Also love this classic:

KEEP ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF LIFE

There's a dark & a troubled side of life
There's a bright, there's a sunny side, too
Tho' we meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view

[cho:] Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day,
It will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

The storm and its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear;
Clouds and storms will, in time, pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

[cho:] Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day,
It will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

Let us greet with the song of hope each day
Tho' the moment be cloudy or fair
Let us trust in our Saviour away
Who keepeth everyone in His care

[cho:] Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day,
It will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

Final Chorus

[cho:] Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day,
It will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

(Image is from D Eusebio Planas in 'Historia de Una Mujer', 1878, from

here)

Snow White's Table: Humming the Tune

On Easter Eve i had a dream about Snow White, about that tale and that feeling there being an important guide in my life. In the dream it said that in writng too, "Snow-White-ness" is the stuff to focus on.

Something about the Walt Disney Snow White movie in particular, it always moves something inside, a certain feeling there. And so i woke up Easter morning fresh from the dream with two sweet "Easter gifts". One, the song from the movie, "Whistle While You Work" was cheerily humming in my head. The other thing was a surprise. I've been drawn to how Brother Lawrence's "heart prayer" (here). A heart prayer (well most other folks call it a breath prayer really) is a short personal prayer that "calls us back" to God's presence, see here) was simply "Thank You God". The surprise was that after this dream i found i was automatically saying that prayer, as i turned over to my other side before getting up i found myself saying "Thank You God" that i could lay on both sides (sometimes pain prevents that). And it was just something about that prayer finally coming more automatically after this Snow White dream, well it just kind of healed something. They must be connected. Then later that day i turned on the radio only to find that song "Whistle While You WOrK" (the Louis Armstrong version) was playing. I couldnt believe it. The co-in-see-dance made me treasure all the more this stuff about "Snow white-ness". There truly feels to be precious treasure there.

Well, i'm sure this will kind of unravel over time. I think it already has been all along really, just weaving in and out, and it feels really nice and warm inside to be returning to it a bit. I was poring over some vintage cookbooks the other night, which give me that "Snow White" feeling too. So did mixing up batter for some yummy banana bread, something about things like this. This "Snow-White-ness" draw just pulls like a magnet.

Its funny, it hit me tonight that the very first picture i posted on the very first blog was this one at left, which is of Snow White's mother as she is praying for a child while she sews. That wasnt the reason i posted that image then, it was just an image i was really drawn to. But seems this "snow-white-ness' draw has been here from the beginning.

Looked up the tale today, and some qoutes stood out, from here. First, at the beginning, that opening scene with her Mother. Don't have any words, but have always felt something special there. And for some reason the ancient feeling there reminds me so much of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 8 too:

t was the middle of winter, and the snow-flakes were falling like feathers from the sky, and a queen sat at her window working, and her embroidery-frame was of ebony. And as she worked, gazing at times out on the snow, she pricked her finger, and there fell from it three drops of blood on the snow. And when she saw how bright and red it looked, she said to herself, "Oh that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the embroidery frame!"

Not very long after she had a daughter, with a skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony, and she was named Snow-white"

Then there is this really moving scene at the end. It reminds me so much of Christs rescue of us, and how we are drawn to fairy tales for such a real reason becuase undermeath is the deeper fairy tale. Before putting in that qoute from Snow White, wanted to qoute Genevieve Kineke from her "Fairy Tale Re-dux" post. A gospel reading and its message of rescue had reminded her so much of a fairy tale, and she had this to say:

"So as I was listening, it hit me anew that the Bride was awaiting her redemption, yearning for her Bridegroom to free her from the darkness of sin. Isn't this the story line in most fairy tales? Doesn't the damsel await her redeemer -- his kiss, his glance, his betrothal to awaken her from her slumber or to take her from drudgery or crushing circumstances? Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel, etc. Children have always loved such stories, which means they have resonated at a deep level. The bride is incomplete without her designated bridegroom. His love completes her and yet He, in a sense, needs her as well. "

Okay, i'll forgive her for not mentioning Snow White lol. On with the qoute from the tale...

he dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow-white lying on the ground, and there came no breath out of her mouth, and she was dead. They lifted her up, sought if anything poisonous was to be found, cut her laces, combed her hair, washed her with water and wine, but all was of no avail, the poor child was dead, and remained dead. Then they laid her on a bier, and sat all seven of them round it, and wept and lamented three whole days. And then they would have buried her, but that she looked still as if she were living, with her beautiful blooming cheeks. So they said,

"We cannot hide her away in the black ground." And they had made a coffin of clear glass, so as to be looked into from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote in golden letters upon it her name, and that she was a king's daughter. Then they set the coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them always remained by it to watch. And the birds came too, and mourned for Snow-white, first an owl, then a raven, and lastly, a dove.

Now, for a long while Snow-white lay in the coffin and never changed, but looked as if she were asleep, for she was still as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony. It happened, however, that one day a king's son rode through the wood and up to the dwarfs' house, which was near it. He saw on the mountain the coffin, and beautiful Snow-white within it, and he read what was written in golden letters upon it. Then he said to the dwarfs,

"Let me have the coffin, and I will give you whatever you like to ask for it."
But the dwarfs told him that they could not part with it for all the gold in the world. But he said,

"I beseech you to give it me, for I cannot live without looking upon Snow-white; if you consent I will bring you to great honour, and care for you as if you were my brethren."

When he so spoke the good little dwarfs had pity upon him and gave him the coffin, and the king's son called his servants and bid them carry it away on their shoulders. Now it happened that as they were going along they stumbled over a bush, and with the shaking the bit of poisoned apple flew out of her throat. It was not long before she opened her eyes, threw up the cover of the coffin, and sat up, alive and well.

"Oh dear! where am I?" cried she. The king's son answered, full of joy, "You are near me""

"You are near me". Are there any more magical words to hear?

(Top image from here, next image from here, and last two images from here)

A Shabbas Table: The Luxury of Joy

Things have been gently joyful lately, more later. For now, a good Shabbas everyone : ) On Shabbas more than ever does the following qoute ring true, from Holy Experience. Its not that i don't think depression is real, is a teacher when its true...for it puts a light upon what is longing to shift, or allows our grieving, our lament, which allows something to soften or open up. I think that is all a part of living, a gift really. And yet even when depressed, deep down we know there is still underneath a thread running through life of hope and joy, we know its there, the thread may fade quite a bit but it never really seems to break.

From Anne's post:

"Some say joy is not a luxury, but a duty, an owed act. Not a frill sewed onto the Christ-life, but the required fabric.

Ice (crystals, beautiful in my hand,) tinkles, scatters. And I think: yes, it is that. God has bestowed, given. And I owe Him delight. Wouldn't anything else be robbery? Stealing away without so much as a word of gratitude for this show of daily wonders, this next breath, this.

I gather crystals, delicate and disappearing, and know that joy is the only reasonable response, yes, the duty of a human being who can produce nothing, but only receive. All I can give, really, is joy. It's what I owe.

Joy is to be the very garment, the weave, of the Christ-follower.

But sitting here, if I am honest, joy feels nothing like a duty, an obligatory uniform. It surges, warm, an elixir of life....Joy is a duty... and a luxury. Not either/or, but both/and...

For the word luxury stems from the Latin, luxo, to loosen. I am loosened from the dark, released, freed. This Light is luxury. Defined as "a free or extravagant indulgence in the pleasures of the table," I could, if I chose, know quotidian luxury..."

May we luxuriate in His Love this Sabbath. Good Shabbas Everyone : )

(Image from here)

An Advent Table: The Archangel in the Home

As some already know, i find such a draw to the "angel in the home" image as a model of femininity. Its feels to be connected to Proverbs 8 and to Mary of Bethany, and is sadly neglected in a world where we think Proverbs 31 and Martha is "the" model of Biblical femininity rather than one of them. Just looking at all the different Biblical models we have, God sure seems to understand we have different tempurments. Our ultimate models are Christ and Our Blessed Mother of course, and all the smaller models are found contained within them, thats the miracle. But still the smaller models inspired from the rest of scripture do really help us i feel, just like how branching off stories that go into more detail about something can help us better understand things.

Anyway, lately its been dawning that maybe different models for different tempurments is part of headship too. The thing is, folks are often told of a model of headship that is pretty outward and blatent, and then women expect this model in their partners. But men have different tempurments. I turn around and look in "real life" here at my finace and see how his headship comes out so beautifully in ways that are just more subtle, a gentler leadership. And for what its worth, the image that keeps coming to to mind of this type of leadership is the "archangel" in the home.

Its what i've been feeling in my finace time and time again though i've had no words to call it anything. And its hard to explain, though a few examples do come up. For one, he is truly prayerful. I cannot even expresss how it feels to know he literally prays for me each and every day, and lays upon hands, and even prays for the protection of the little "abbey" here each time he goes out that both i and the home will be safe in his absence. It shows my heart that i'm being "covered" and there is something about the constancy there, the dailyness there, it weaves this subtle but strong holding.

I think the above is probably in all forms of headship. But it gets even more subtle. For example another thing that stands out is from earlier in our dating when we were researching our family geneologies (we're both history buffs). When he found out we were both heavily related to royalty i got excited but he shook his head. What he saw woven in there was too much power focus and bloodshed, and rather than bringing out pride it brought out a sadness in him. "No", he told me, "there must be something deeper and purer here". He was determined to find it, and prayerful about it, and then low and behold there it was, a lineage of descent from several saints, in particular a joint lineage we both have from St Helena of the Cross, and also a draw in ancestry to St Melangels unusually kind hearted benefactor which moved us both.

I think back on this and realize just how different our lives could have been if we'd had the original power hungry sort of royalty in the back of our minds as ancestral models rather than the saints in our lineage, how very different our lives could have been impacted. Now there is for example a picture of St Helena in the "abbey" here that i see everyday and that helps to direct one's thoughts more "heavenward" one might say. But I wonder if we had stayed on the mere royalty alone track as i was excited about... would there instead be a picture of ancestral kings and queens upon the wall who led less noble lives? Would that have then been what i saw each day subtly guiding and impacting? His redirecting our ancestral research and uncovering the saints feels to me like such a deep and impacting form of headship.

Another example happened just recently, revolving around of all things, a bird. I've been a bit fascinated with Northern Flickers becuase i find their feathers so beautiful. Before i left Portland, right at the end there was a flicker that i had seen alongside the trailer once and i never forgot it. But i had then looked them up on the internet and the first link i opened was an article of someone who'd had one come to nest by the house who drummed loudly on the roof in the early morns startling awake the whole household. After reading that, my initial draw to the Flicker was replaced with caution, becuase it horrified me to think of the loud noises they could make on the roof.

Then, after we moved up here, just last week i was talking to my partner about flickers, and that article, and how they are cute birds but i'd hate the noise especially on a thin roof like we have. That very day, i couldnt believe it, when i was taking a nap suddenly i heared this drum drum drum on the roof. Several times, going to the four corners, marking territory it sounded like or something. I knew instinctively it was a flicker and when i talked to my partner i wailed out my concern. What if its setting up its home here i said, i will go insane startled out of sleep everyday if he's up there all the time marking territory. He said well they dont drum everyday. This didnt make me feel much better, and i persisted, saying if it set up territory here and made that roof noise a lot then and we'd have to "send it to a better place" if we couldnt shoo it away somehow.

He refused believe this. "I am not hearing this", he said, "I know you wouldnt want to kill a little bird like that". Back and forth we went, with him stubbornly refusing to believe that was in me. And then a couple days later the flicker came back to the yard (quiet as can be btw) and bringing his family along and settleing themselves right outside my bedroom window pecking away the grass. I knew then my fiance had been right, there's no way i could have killed that little bird even if there'd been conflict, and it moved something inside that he had kept such stubborn faith in my better side. And that too is headship isnt it?

And i'm realizing so much can be invisible there too. When we had that big storm he took his bike (to save the car gas for emergency) and pedaled 25 bleepin miles (round trip) to get what i needed from the store to weather the storm (which was more than what he would have needed himself). In fact he goes to the store a lot for me in all times really, runs errands as a matter of course and (usually) without complaint. I'm realizing this sort of thing, just like the domestic stuff, is qoutidian, something you have to do over and over....you get the things from the store one day and then soon its gone, nothing to show for it anymore, and you are having to do it all over again. This stuff thats more invisible, not seen for long before it needs doing yet again. And he helps with some of the domestic stuff as well and thats definitey quoitidian stuff...chopping the potatoes, scrubbing the frying pan, the stuff that tends to flare my injury up he really takes on when he is here. The angel in the home goes sadly unnoticed and undervalued today, but so too does the archangel in the home.

Anyway, this has just been on my mind lately. Whenever i come to a frustrating point in life lately i find myself saying "well what would an angel do?" and picturing how an angel in the home would do things, and this comforts and inspires me so much. But more and more i realize just how much an angel in the home needs her archangel : )

(inserted later:
a verse from the Talmud keeps coming to mind that struck me years ago, "we meet our maker in pairs"...)

(Image from here)

An Advent Table: Male and Female He Created Them

I've been thinking a lot about faith lately, spurred in part from Anna's "coming out" as an Orthodox Jew on her blog Domestic Felicity. When i look back my faith has been a bit of journey exploring in many tangents, and yet looking back what surprises me is this. That despite that wandering there is a surprising constancy there, the search to simply be the woman (not simply the "person" but the deeper self, the woman) that God designed me to be. It was that that drove me really deep down, more than the details of theological doctrine. It was the pull of the heart, the longing buried inside to live a truly feminine life. And more and more, i believe that these deeper desires (distinct from our shallow ones) are given to us by Our Creator as a path to Him. God made me a woman, and thus with a feminine heart, and so within that heart is buried the deep desire to live in a feminine way. My gut keeps telling me that living a feminine life is what, in the deepest way really, is a womans' path to Him.

A favorite qoute comes to mind, from the intro to John Eldredge's Wild at Heart (here):

"Permit me to bypass the entire nature vs. nurture "is gender really built-in?" debate with one simple observation: Men and women are made in the image of God as men or as women. "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them" (Gen. 1:27)... Gender simply must be at the level of the soul, in the deep and everlasting places within us. God doesn't make generic people; he makes something very distinct-a man or a woman. In other words, there is a masculine heart and a feminine heart, which in their own ways reflect or portray to the world God's heart."

Developing one's feminine heart, that to me speaks louder than any particular words of doctrine. Living in a feminine way is part of living a sacred and ethical life for sure, but i am coming to suspect more and more that it also crosses particulars of faith. What i mean by this is i feel a woman of any faith , just by virtue of her being a woman who is sincerely trying to discern God's will for her life, should be encouraged and supported in living a feminine life-- keeping at home, being a nurturer, being under headship and protected and provided for. It's not that i don't think my faith is important, and frankly its getting harder and harder for me to imagine feeling headship without Christ at the center. But, still... well, for lack of words, i'm going to qoute a commenter, Rachele Ann, from Anna's mentioned post who really spoke to me here (link):

"(Your sharing that you are Jewish) merely confirms my convictions about womanhood. God has made us women and to embody that and be joyous in that role is both before any religion and common to them all."

I don't know, it just really touched a chord somehow. A woman deepening into a feminine life, it is a desire i feel that can lead all women somehow to Our Creator if we let it. Maybe it starts small, but i feel it can open a huge door. I don't think its all that far from realizing a woman is designed to be naturally home based (keeping at home), to realizing a woman is Adam's rib (headship), to realizing that our home is in God.

Anyway, just thoughts...

(Image is of a plate with artwork by Sulamith Wulfing, but i'm not sure of the source)

An Advent Table: Bringing Home the Beloved

"It just occurred to me: instead of insisting that Christ be put back into "Christmas" (The Reason for the Season, et al) perhaps we should emphasise the other syllable: Let's put the Mass back into Christmas.... For this lovely season they need both the Blessed Mother and the M-- word. "That all may be one...!""---Genevieve Kineke, from here

I couldnt resist qouting this, becuase Genevieve said it far more gracefully than i could have, particularly about Our Blessed Mother. It just bothers me more and more when i hear "put the Christ back in Christmas", not becuase of what that says but simply because of what it doesnt say. That silence speaks volumes and more and more it hurts something inside. Christ is absolutely central of course but dare i say He is not "everything", there is also Our Blessed Mother.

There's a qoute that some time back had really struck me, though at the moment i can't seem to find it. But the gist was that the Christ who rescued us is Our Lord, but so too is the babe He was, they are one in the same person, no one form less sacred than the other. The babe is also Christ, the babe who Mary bore, the babe who truly needed his mother...and so do we. (For a lovely personal meditaion on the Divine Infancy, please see here, and another here)

And there's more too, that feels connected somehow. That "the church" too isnt "everything", there is also hearth and home just as central if we'll let God in there. Nor is loud praise everything in faith, there is also simply recieving God in how He chooses to reveal Himself (such as in the the Eucharist, or even in the co-in-see-dances (God dancing with us) of our lives). Nor is evangelization everything, there is also contemplation just as core. I'm just more and more so tired and hurt by that which is softly feminine/receptive/subtle being discounted over and over again for what is blatent/masculine/active. Both are sacred, not the latter more so and the former less as so many seem to believe. Its just not so. Its like the God given-ness of both the direct light of the sun and the reflected light of the moon, and our need for both in our world.

This has to do with the Sonshine bearer stuff too perhaps. Those who bear the Sonshine are not themselves the light, and they definitely know that, their light is merely a reflected light. But they are still needed, still beloved. Beloved by above anyway, what is feminine seems less and less beloved down here. And somehow this just wounds more and more as time goes on. It just doesnt feel right. I am not planning a return to neo-paganism but more and more i understand why it was i turned there before, as i came from a world where its gotten so bad that some won't even admit Lady Wisdom (see Proverbs 8) is part of the sacredness of femininity (many unbelieivably say she is really simply Christ since Christ is "everything" that is sacred, the masculine bridegroom is "everything").

But Lady Wisdom (again, see Proverbs 8) was the original bride. And where is the fulfillment of the bridegroom without his bride? I feel she is to be cherished not brushed aside as a mere sidenote. One can feel this bride-ness so deeply especially in Proverbs 8:22-36


The LORD possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old.

I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was.

When there were no depths, I was brought forth; when there were no fountains abounding with water.

Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth:

While as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest part of the dust of the world.

When he prepared the heavens, I was there: when he set a compass upon the face of the depth:

When he established the clouds above: when he strengthened the fountains of the deep:

When he gave to the sea his decree, that the waters should not pass his commandment: when he appointed the foundations of the earth:

Then I was by him, as one brought up with him: and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him;

Rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men.

Now therefore hearken unto me, O ye children: for blessed are they that keep my ways.

Hear instruction, and be wise, and refuse it not.

Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors.

For whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favour of the LORD.

But he that sinneth against me wrongeth his own soul: all they that hate me love death.


Genevieve Kineke (qouted above) explores some of this in her blog from here,

"Remember the thesis of the Bride: that she was the firstborn of God, she danced with Him at creation, and was manifest in the Wisdom literature of the Old Testament..." (this bridal imagry is all straight from scripture; she explores it in more detail in her book).

And elsewhere Lady Wisdom is called the "'created co-creator", from here:

"She is brought into existence by God before the creation so as to have a role in creation. She is...herself explicitly God's creation. God made her in order to be at work at God's side in the fashioning of the universe (the harmonizer there, the phrase that comes to my mind is "a woman's touch") .... She enjoys a relation of joyful intimacy with the creator and with humans."

This is the bride. The bride whom God created before anything else for a darn good reason, which feels to be her harmonizing effect upon life and her delighting of the bridegroom's heart. The bride is not the Source, she is not the Light, but surely she is still needed to bear that light and surely she is still beloved. We don't see recieiving (as in recieving the light, bearing it, and recieving in general even) as sacred or be-love-able because we forget that feminine things like receptivity are sacred and precious. We forget that what is feminine is sacred and precious. For a world that has forgotten Our Blessed Mother, and forgotten Lady Wisdom, has surely been forgetting this.

It's funny, my foray into neo-paganism years ago led me straight to Orthodox Judaism for quite a time... for keeping Shabbat woke up such a deep longing of what i had been seeking. Shabbat is one of the few things left honored in the world where women are respected for simply being feminine and bearing the light, in this case when they light the Shabbas candles and usher that peace of God into the home (which is done in a sense all week when a woman is a good keeper-at-home, but with a different and truly special depth on Shabbat). Orthodox Judaism still moves me still a great deal for this reason, that they have preserved the treasure of Shabbat when many others have let it be forgotten. And we need it, we all need it (see here). Just like we need the "light bearer" incarnate, Mary the Mother of God (who btw the way also kept Shabbat... as ironic as it may sound to some, keeping Shabbat really helps me feel closer to her).

And its more. I'm not the first to observe that in places where Mary is neglected eventually Christ is neglected too (thats another qoute i'll need to find/insert later as well). For how we can we truly love Christ when we ignore the Mother He loved so much? And who can love the bridegroom while snubbing the precioiusness of the bride, His beloved? Something is wrong here, and has been for a very long time. It's a wound many try and ignore but that doesnt take it away.

How i long for a remembering of the sacredness and goodness not just of the masculine but also the feminine as well. A true remembering...I dont mean an independent "goddess" but what is truly softly receptively feminine ("Adam's rib) and a true valuing of all things connected with this, a true valuing of the subtler and softer and more "nestled" things of life.

Okay, lamenting over. But i've gotta say, i meant every word...

(Image from here)