Via Beatta--the Blessed Way

Yesterday  It happened faster than I expected. Oh, I knew that it would. But as I drove to church, reveling in the display of gold and green still on the trees as well as blanketing the ground, I expected at least another week or two of this fading glory. Yesterday Then came the wind. And the first snow of the season--a "lake effect" storm that swooped down from Wisconsin leaving behind nearly bare branches and covering the fallen leaves with a carpet of white.   From my little sun room across the street from the lake, I see the old catalpa that just a day ago was decked out in its finest golden dress but now looks almost forlorn with its remaining leaves drooping. I see to my right the neighbors' parkway trees with nearly bare branches waving in the breeze.   On the street are tracks, already turning gray and slushy, signaling the winter months to come.  Today But the silver lining is this. Each day now, my tiny slice of lake vista enlarges as I can see b...

 It is the second Sunday of Advent, and I did not make it to church. I woke briefly when my radio station came to life, but rolled over and woke too late for the 10 am service. So, I sit with my Advent wreath at my table, read some of the devotions that others have so thoughtfully prepared, and reflect on the readings appointed for this day--Isaiah 40 (Comfort ye my people) and Mark's appearance of John in the wilderness preparing the way. Some years ago, our staff at St. Luke's recorded reflections for each day of Advent. I was assigned today's readings and wrote this: When I was a young girl living in a rural community where nearly all the extended family lived within a few miles, Christmas Eve was reserved for my dad’s side of the family.  It began with church at 7 or 7:30 PM--only the Catholics in our town had a late service.  We would fill the row of pews across the aisle from those occupied by our second cousins. After  church we drove the few blocks to my gran...

I truly love the deck at the back of my condo! It is nothing fancy or special—just the usual wooden structure affixed to the rear wall of a vintage city condo that connects with the six flat building’s back stairs. And since I am on the top floor, mine lacks a “ceiling” that the others have. It is on the west side, so there is blistering sunlight from about noon on. I make do with a very cute, very French looking blue and white striped patio umbrella. Now all that sounds reasonably nice. What is challenging is that it is on the alley. My view is of parking lots for the other buildings on the block and rows of dumpsters and garbage cans for both trash and recycling. As well as the growl and grinding of a parade of garbage trucks. In Chicago, where I live, the City sanitation department takes care of single family dwellings and building with five or fewer units. So, all with six or more contract with a scavenging company of which there must be five or six that serve our block of a dozen ...

  God’s Dream—7/4/21 We need to be reminded that God has a dream for us in which all His children and indeed the whole of His creation will live in the harmonious interdependence which was God's intention from the beginning. --Archbishop Desmond Tutu This concept of God's dream for the world has long rung in my heart. As far as I know, I first heard of it in relation to Bp. Tutu, though not precisely in his words above but probably quoted by others in sermons and prayers. It seems a dream that is not about a "pie in the sky when you die" paradise to be had in the distant future if we have lived a good life here. Rather, it is about the world as it could be--as it should be--right here and now. if only we could align ourselves with what God intended at the creation. I am acutely aware these days of the vast gulf between this world and God's dream. It has become more  evident over the past year or so--not just with the realities of the pandemic, but with the voices ...

  In observance of what would have been my father's 99th birthday, I had the oil changed in my car. It was not really intentional--I had tried to make an appointment for Wednesday or Thursday, but that was not possible. It is fit and proper, though, that I did it on July 23. My dad was not always a man of many words in expressing his fatherly feelings about us. But the words were demonstrated in other ways--in making sure we were safe and provided for and asking such questions as: "Have you been checking your oil?" "When did you last get an oil change?" He knew that as young adults such things would not be foremost in our minds. And, I expect, he was protecting himself from being called out late at night to rescue us from some car misadventure. (That happened often enough, I'm afraid, even with fresh, topped up oil.) He was almost obsessive about his own cars. They were always spanking clean and polished--and then put in the garage to keep ...

Did you ever notice how there is almost never a time without trash? On Tuesday evening or early Wednesday morning the cat box is cleaned, the wastebasket contents gathered and all is deposited in the trash can, dragged to the alley well before the rumble of the city trucks in the next blocks signals the weekly pick-up. Oh, and this is recycling week, too, so the paper--newspapers and junk mail, drafts of reports and sermons--along with rinsed plastic containers and cereal boxes are in the bin. For one brief moment, a sigh of satisfaction. The mess is gone. I walk through the living room on my way to dress for the day. Oh, no! There's the pile of discarded mail from yesterday next to my chair. And that pint of fuzzy berries still in the fridge. And, what's that? Feathers on the dining room rug? Naughty cat! I suppose trash and litter is not a very attractive metaphor for life and work. It is apt, though, in describing what seem to be obstacles to the "real" wor...

This is triggered by reading a Nadia Bolz Weber sermon about the Woman at the Well. She reflects that the woman may have gone to the well at noon instead of the usual women's hours in order to avoid the shunning and judgment she had experienced. Nadia, in her time, took her children to playgrounds at odd hours because she didn't feel a fit with the other moms.       I immediately time-traveled back to my first--and last--invitation to a gathering of stay-at-home moms in my new upscale, suburban neighborhood. It was a tea that turned out to be a fundraiser for the hostess's sorority. I arrived at the appointed time--a bit before the full group assembled with little ones in tow.       It was probably just polite getting-to-know-you talk. Having recently moved from another suburb, I had not yet met my neighbors. Yet, I quickly felt the questions as more like an interrogation. I responded, telling about my part-time job in a medical labora...

I 'm not sure why trains bring back Christmas memories for me, but they do. Maybe it came from ads or Marshall Field's window displays. Certainly not from the symbols of Advent or the Nativity!      In the house where we lived when both of my sons were still at home, as soon as the tree was in place and the lights strung on its branches along with the cranberry ropes (wooden ones from Crate &  Barrel, not hand-strung fresh berries), the train tracks would be put together and  arranged in an oval around the tree. It was not a fancy train with lots of accessories, just a simple Lionel with a few cars and caboose--and, of course, a whistle. It was always a lot of trouble, really, because sitting on carpet, the connections between tracks inevitably became loose or a car jumped the tracks rather than doing what it was supposed to do. Nevertheless, the tree was a necessary part of our holiday decorating.      The house was ...

I am so grateful for being given the opportunity to take the past six weeks' sabbatical and for the lovely welcome back!      There are so many memories of this brief time and stories to tell about the places I visited, the people I met, and just the plain old time of relaxation without deadlines and undone tasks to worry about.      It may seem like a "busman's holiday," but one of the favorite parts was the ability to attend a variety of church services, mostly as a member of the congregation. It is a rare pleasure when serving a church on most Sunday mornings. This time, I experienced endings: a colleague's final service before moving on to a bishop's position in another diocese; the final service of a church closing after 130 years; and a requiem mass at our cathedral for Bp. Montgomery.   All Saints Chicago's Day of the Dead and Rector's Farewell I was involved in beginnings, too, especially my participation...

“I have come to appreciate Advent so much more without the light/dark binary. Rather, I see darkness as the generative space in which light is conceived and from which it is born. Both holy, both life-giving.” This morning, these words by Episcopal priest and biblical scholar, Wil Gafney, were shared on social media. It immediately made me consider the truth that darkness is not always scary and best avoided. Without darkness, we could not see the beauty of stars and moon in the night sky. Without darkness, we would not need candles. Without darkness, we could not sleep—at least not so soundly. But even more, I think of the spring bulbs planted in the fall that will rest in the dark earth before bringing the beauty of blossoms to our summer gardens. I think of dough rising beneath a warm towel to leaven the bread and bakery goods that we share with delight. I think of worries or puzzlements that we take to bed with us that simmer through the night and become clear with the morning ...

On this rainy and drear late October day, I resist going outside and spend much of my day in my bathrobe reading older posts and journal entries, avoiding looking forward to the next leg of my path in ministry.      My eye is caught by a small quilt that still hangs on my wall where it has been for nearly fifteen years. It was made for me by my Sunday School children as a farewell gift when I left their church. At the top, it says "Rev. Gloria's Favorite Things," and consists of quilt blocks with hand drawn pictures. Now, I'm certain the adults guided this creation. Otherwise, these children and youth saw far more into my person than I ever would have guessed! The depictions of favorite things follow themes that truly reflect my personal life. A bit of church life, too, I suppose, though there is nothing overtly theological. There are dogs and cats; coffee, candles, and music; books--fortunately the Bible is included; mountains and airplanes; and, less frequently...

A silver Lexus disabled in construction zone on shoulder near Barrington Road....tow needed for a flat tire--shoulder is too short for safe tire change...Cadillac stalled in center lane...Toyota... Jeep....It was a busy Thursday rush hour on i90.  You might ask why I know this.      Well....one learns a lot listening to dispatcher chatter from the high passenger seat in a tow truck.      Now, before anyone starts in on my little car, let me just say this: it likely all started because of a squealy belt that I ignored.  Just sayin'.      So, now, I am enjoying the waiting game.  The idea was to make a quick trip to Chicago for dinner with a visiting friend from California.  That did happen, but a little later than planned.  And now, I wait, wait, wait for word from the auto shop about the extent of the damage due to the fact that I had to continue driving when the smoke and stink poured out fr...

The BIG snow storm ended during the night, so this day is brilliant and cold, the blinding sunlight glimmering off the mounds of fresh, clean snow that looks like tiny diamonds have been sprinkled by some playful hand.  There have been birds this morning--two different kinds of woodpecker, a female Cardinal, some tiny finches, and a tufted titmouse. They have formed an unconscious partnership:  the woodpeckers land on the narrow ledge of the feeder and help themselves while raining seed down to the ground where the little birds snatch it.   There has been a larger beast, too--a raccoon, maybe, or a groundhog.  Its messy footprints track along the side of the house to the leftover hulls of birdseed, then across the patio and up the hill into the woods.  I can't tell because the footprints are submerged and blurred.  It looks like a chubby belly was dragging along.  Though the wind has calmed, occasional large puffs of snow drop from the trees--usual...

The past few days, my Facebook page has overflowed with sadness and tributes to a theologian and New Testament scholar who died on Wednesday--Marcus Borg.  Borg was Canon Theologian at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, and prior to retirement was Chair of Religion and Culture at Oregon State University.     He was a prolific author, teacher, and speaker.  I have read most of his books and used them in adult formation through the years. His work was not without controversy. Those Christians who hold closely to the traditions of the church as well as evangelicals who interpret scripture in a literal fashion, have discounted Borg's progressive views, including his work with the Jesus Seminar that involved the "search for the historical Jesus."     I was fortunate to attend one of his workshops.  I found him to be a gracious man whose faith shone through all of his work.  I believe that those who most vehemently disagreed with him did not...

That extra hour that comes with the autumn "fall back" is something I look forward to.  Even though I know it comes with early darkness, leafless trees, and the chill and snow of winter.  This year, I remembered to change all of the clocks and devices  that don't automatically adjust.  Well, all but my car clock that takes two or three tries to stick.     So, the first morning of Central Standard Time was, of course, a Sunday, my early day.  Still up early, but that extra hour felt luxurious.  Then came Monday. A day that I can take my time. Sleep in just a bit.  What was that sound wrenching me out of my slumber?  Ah, my cat.      Ms. Maggie is not noisy.  She doesn't often speak.  And when she does, it is with a soft voice, just a small interval above the middle range.  But this morning, that voice is insistent.  What?  I roll over, head under the pillow. That seems to work for a while, or mayb...

The world is remembering this week the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.  It made me recall that just 10 months later, I was in Germany during Reunification Day, a national holiday with broadcasts from Berlin.  I was only in Bavaria, but everyone was out in the countryside riding bicycles or hiking.  Even though I didn't speak or understand German, I could enjoy the historic and festive spirit.  Here are some remembrances of the trip: "The Rule" was simple.  If my sons did a semester abroad, Mom got to go visit.  So, as soon as #1 son's travel information began to arrive and deposits were paid, I began to talk about making some of my own.  It would be my first international trip--to Salzburg Austria--and I didn't really know where to start.  It was then that my mother tossed out a wild idea:  "why don't you take your father with you?" He had never been outside the U.S. either, even when he served in the Army Air Corps and exp...

It is Earth Day.  And the third of the Great Fifty Days of Easter.  The first day, of course, was the wonderful celebration of the Resurrection -- after a moving walk through Holy Week with its Stations of the Cross, its Maundy Thursday foot washing and stripping of the altar leaving a church bared of its sparkling brass and seasonal color, leaving the yawning, empty tabernacle.  At the same time, a flower and light-filled altar in our chapel where the relocated bread and wine rest--the garden of vigil with Jesus. And the promise of His continuing presence. Then, Good Friday, its story of the Passion and veneration of the cross.  The cross enters the stripped church and is laid at the foot of the chancel where it is approached by the people, anointed with oil and holy water, and sprinkled with red rose petals, reminiscent, perhaps of the women at the cross ministering to Jesus' body. Holy Saturday--a time of silence and waiting.  But in reality, it is the fi...