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Ordinary Time XIX

I am not a coffee drinker. But I’m pretty happy to smell a pot of brew perking along. A few evenings ago I found myself standing at the threshold of many a coffee drinker’s holiest of grounds. The original Starbucks is located in Pike’s Market in Seattle, Washington. However by 8 pm no one is around to partake in the daily grind, so they close up shop.

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Ordinary Time XVII

Cultural Daze (Part I): I’m not in culture shock exactly. But I do feel a bit dazed after spending most of yesterday in situations where everything was new and unfamiliar to me. I was in a minority. I stood out in ways that made me feel uncomfortable. I did not understand most of what I heard or saw. I tried to prepare, but reading and asking a few questions was not adequate. I tried to participate, but I kept feeling like I was getting things wrong. In fact I was getting things wrong.

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Ordinary Time XVI

One of the delights of my vacation this summer was building rock cairns along the way. The first I built were on the banks of the South Fork of the Kings River. We were at the far end of Kings Canyon National Park, the sometimes ignored sibling of Sequoia National Park. My family and I spent a long stretch of one late morning in the Zumwalt Meadow just tossing rocks in the river, wandering along the bank, staring up at brilliant skies.

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Ordinary Time XIII

Wash It Out: One day while I was at Asilomar I was trying to explain to someone why I try to practice detachment. I said something like, “Well, it’s just important to me for everything in life. And I’m not very good at it. That’s why I have to practice.” We laughed. “It’s important for everything, huh?” Yep. I hang on to all sorts of things. How about you? Clothes become the days that I wore them. . . .

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Ordinary Time X

While I was away from blogging a lot happened. Life has a way of carrying on, whether I write something down about it or not. Of course. (Smile.) A few moments from the past six weeks seem worth revisiting . . . for what I learned from them. There were some important personal discoveries, not all of which need air time on a blog. Other moments keep sending sending their messages along. So here is one. I fell. I fell down and I can’t believe I didn’t break anything.

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Ordinary Time VIII

Postmodern Superpowers: If I were going to order up a postmodern superhero persona I would want the following: a really cool costume – one that smoothed out bumps and blemishes, of course. A way to fly – because of course I love that, so I’d put that on the list. And I’d want a really good set of superhero friends who had nicely matching powers and of course coordinating but not matchy-pooh costumes. And what other powers would I want? Well . . .

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Ordinary Time VI

Today I went to hear Alan Roxburgh at the Leadership Institute, a pre-meeting of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in Charlotte, North Carolina. I’m constantly bumping into the ideas in the “missional church” movement. I find the ideas somewhat interesting, but rarely do I experience them as dramatically innovative. Usually I walk away from such engagements feeling mostly skeptical. So I decided to take another opportunity to listen in on a presentation and see where it led me.

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Ordinary Time VI

I’ve been contemplating the many “parents” that have shaped and formed me this weekend. I’m grateful for the parents who gave me birth and brought me up in the world. I’m especially grateful for my dad who sticks with me and always tells me he’s proud. He’s recently retired from more than 40 years of teaching. For a long time I resisted that family inheritance. Lots of of my great aunts and their children were also teachers and school administrators. But eventually I saw that it was my calling, too. And in the last 10 years I’ve embraced the role with joy.

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Ordinary Time V

On Sunday night I had one of those privileges of a life time. I heard Dave Brubeck play live at the Blue Note Jazz Club in New York City. He was my second jazz crush (after Louis Armstrong) about a dozen years ago. Brubeck, who turns 90 this year, sounded amazing, and was charming as he told a few stories. As I watched his hands move over the keys I was amazed at how he creates a kind of sound from the piano that for me pretty much defies description. Each note is clear, yet together a sound rises up that goes beyond the individual notes.

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Ordinary Time IV

“When we see the world as an end in itself, everything becomes itself a value and consequently loses all value, because only in God is found the meaning (value) of everything, and the world is meaningful only when it is the ‘sacrament’ of God’s presence.” – Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World

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Ordinary Time II

I spent the summer of 1990 in Birmingham, Alabama. Like most summers in the deep South, it was hot, sweltering and sticky that summer. I had completed my first semester of seminary, and wanted to get some “field work” under my belt. So I applied to be an editorial assistant at Woman’s Missionary Union. I’d grown up on a steady diet of missions literature and practice which came out of Birmingham, so this was a bit like going to the holy city for me. Like most pilgrimages it had its moments of awe and its moments of disillusionment. It also held moments of learning and friendship, which have deepened across the years.

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Pentecost I

Three days in a row I found myself sitting with three different circles of women. We gathered around food, friendship, stories, laughter, tears, outrage, and promise. The occasion and purpose for each circle was different, yet they shared some things in common. Conversations took turns through work, love, grief, friendship and gratitude.

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