The Desert

The desert is so engaging.  I have not spent this much time in the desert and it is taking me a while to appreciate the variety of the landscape.  The drama of the land is intense and it is the perfect place to work through spiritual trials because life in the desert changes dramatically, often within just a few minutes.  I did a four mile hike into a canyon and as we returned a strong wind blew up out of no where.  It did not last long but is that not often how life is.  Things change in a minute and decisions have to be made.  We throw ourselves on the mercy of God, seeking answers that are often hiding in the crevasses of a desert wall.  

The mountains have been beaten down and changed through the harshness of the weather. And so it is with us. Life beats us down and but then the glory of God appears just like the gentle beauty that so often embraces this kind of place.  The silence is not a vacuum; it’s just an absence of all the human chatter and electronic noise that is so invasive these days.  There is much that rattles our souls and robs us of that link with the eternal.  When you are in the desert, you see the drama of God’s handiwork with such vast variety every time you drive just a short distance.  Of course, I am in an exceptionally breathtaking part of New Mexico.  There is a reason that Georgia O’Keeffe settled here.  To be able to look out at Pedernal, the flat topped mountain that is such a common subject of her artistic hands is overwhelming.  Having loved the Pacific Northwest for so many years, I never thought I would take to the desert but spending time here allows for a deeper understanding of the life Jesus lived.  This was his landscape.

Leaving for Sabbatical

I have just finished my last weekday of work for the next two months. Even though I am excited, it feels strange. The pastoral piece is by far and away the most difficult to leave, even though I am leaving the church in very capable and caring hands. I know that when I return the church will be different and I will be different. Before leaving, I took some time of prayer looking out into the wonderful memorial garden. I let my friends know that I wouldn't be gone too long. It is time.

Listening to God

It has been a long time since I have written anything.  I have struggled with this since writing is a significant part of who I am and, I have realized, a significant way that I connect with people.  Despite my prayer practice, I have either not heard or not listened to God telling me that this is an important part of my ministry.  I'm not sure which!  And so I have allowed the pressures of daily life as the rector of St. John's to block this message from God.  Of course, for those who know me, the complications of my family life have not helped either!

However, when I was recently backpacking with my oldest daughter on Isle Royale and had many hours of quiet, I listened carefully to God's voice deeply pulling me to somehow make this a priority.  So here I am, after almost a year, returning to Dorian's Discourse.

Shoes

On any given Friday night, there is a pile of shoes in our entryway. My son's friends know the drill.  Friday nights are okay for hanging out at our house, Saturday nights are not and shoes come off when they enter the house.  For the entire time we have lived in Northville, I have observed these piles of shoes.  Sometimes they are just boys tennis shoes.  Often girls sandals and other casual shoes enter the pile. Sometimes the pile is large and sometimes it is small. 

Since my son is now a senior, I know that the piles of shoes will soon be a part of family history.  I wish I had photographed these artistic displays of teenage footwear.  Now I will just be able to get a few pictures between now and the end of the year.   I often pray for the owners of these shoes even though I may not know them all by name.  Being a young person in this uncertain world is no easy matter.  What kind of future are they walking into?  A future in which employment is not guaranteed, a future in which they may or may not have health care, a future in which funding for public education is deteriorating faster than the snow melts in spring... Despite all of this, they maintain a sense of humor and a sense of hopefulness. 

One pair of shoes is at our house much more than any of the other shoes that show up on a periodic basis.  The owner of these shoes has all but moved in with us because of a difficult relationship with both sets of divorced parents.  He is a good kid and works hard when he is here during chore time.  His future is very uncertain.  I worry about all of these kids even though I know worrying is not helpful for anyone, most especially the one who worries.  When I am able to turn the worry over to God, I am able to move on with my daily life.  In the end, that is all we can do.

Circle of Prayer

Last weekend we had our Diocesan Convention.  I enjoy going to convention for a variety of reasons: the picture it provides of the larger church, the Convention Eucharist, the many and varied displays and, of course, the people I get to see.  While I usually only talk to a few clergy acquaintances and the lay people with whom I have served on Diocesan Council, this year Convention was radically different for me.  I could not walk more than ten feet without someone stopping me to say: I've been praying for you for all of the past year."  People I knew stopped me and people I barely knew.  I even had one woman grab my name tag and say with great enthusiasm: "You're Dorian! Our congregation has been praying for you.  How are you doing?"

I've known for months that I have been on prayer lists all over the world, including the prayer list of a few churches in the Diocese. However knowing this and experiencing it are two different things.  I never thought for a moment that so many people would stop to let me know they've been praying for me. It  was a most wonderful surprise.

As I progress in my recovery from my breast cancer treatment, it is comforting to know that my need for healing has been lifted up by so many earthly angels.  As so many have said: never doubt the power of prayer.

Ministry to the Dying

One of the most meaningful aspects of my ministry is that of being with the dying and being with the family after a loved one has died.  Whether it is an expected death with hospice involved or whether it is a tragic death for which no one was prepared, it is an aspect of ministry to which I feel especially drawn.  Over the years, I have reflected on why I find this kind of ministry so compelling and I have come to the conclusion that it is because when death happens people are at their most authentic. The masks that often accompany ordinary life vanish and the depths of who people are rise to the surface.  People are much more open and vulnerable at these times, making it very easy to connect.

When hospice is involved, there is often a beauty in the whole process.  One family in my former church had an especially peaceful experience.  When it became clear that the mother of the family was dying,  the adult children gathered for a vigil.  When I went to be with them toward the end, they were all sitting in their mother's apartment reading.  They then explained that they had often done this as a family when they were children.  It was a family custom to have everyone sit together in the living room and read. While their mother, who was a librarian, lay on her death bed, her family took turns reading to her while the others read to themselves.  There was a quiet serenity and peace throughout the room.  This went on until their mother took her last breath.

Most hospice deaths do have a quiet peacefulness about them which is why I try as much as possible to encourage hospice when it seems appropriate.  When all is said and done, death at any age is a reminder of the fragility of human existence, a reminder that our "earthly tent", of which St. Paul writes, could give out on us or be taken from us at any time.  All the more reason to live life to its fullest... God gives us that opportunity each and every day.

Seeing God in the mountain

My husband and I are blessed to be visiting family and friends in our former home near Seattle.  Also being blessed with absolutely perfect weather, we spent yesterday at Mt. Rainier.  Every bit of the drive is magnificent as the mountain will suddenly appear as you turn around a corner and then disappear because of the trees and then reappear once again.   It was as if the mountain was teasing us with these intermittent views until we reached the top of the drive at Sunrise, the highest point in the national park one can drive.  And then she was there in all her glory seeming to be so close that we could have wrapped our arms around her if our arms had just been a bit longer.  Let the rivers clap their hands, and let the mountains ring out with joy before the Lord (Psalm 98:9)  Mt. Rainier and many other places in the Pacific Northwest are  healing places for me partly because the powerful beauty overshadows any human pain that I might experience. Send out your light and your truth that they may lead me and bring me to your holy mountain (Psalm 43:3)

Joseph and I walked on one of trails at Sunrise where each turn gave us a different view, giving over our grief of the past year: grief from our respective illnesses and for me, most recently, the grief of a failed relationship with someone to whom I was very close. I pour out my complaint before God and tell God all my trouble (Psalm 142:2) The mountain is a sign of God's presence and reminded me of how great God is.  If God can create something so vast and compelling, God can certainly remove and heal all of our wounds.  Proclaim the greatness of the Lord our God and worship him upon his holy hill; for the Lord our God is the Holy One. (Psalm 99:9) As we walked, Joseph and I would simply stop and stare and join in silent prayer.  What a gift!