I have an addiction to confess. I am a sucker for well-written series thrillers. I spent most of the day Sunday, after church and lunch, reading one book in Lee Child’s Jack Reacher series, start to finish, more than 400 pages. I’ve been binge-reading Jack Reacher. This was the fourth in five days. Continue reading
Keep no secrets
My husband and I had paired dreams this morning. This has not happened for a long time. When it does you can be sure that something is up between us. We pay attention.
In my husband’s dream a very reliable source told him I was leaving him. Continue reading
Dripping from God
Dream: I am finding my way in an unknown city in winter, in a fog, on snowy streets, around construction, on a bike. It is treacherous and unclear whether I am going somewhere or just out for exercise.
This is a reminder that the spiritual transition in which I find myself (see the last two posts) is likely to be difficult and unpleasant at times. Continue reading
Shift happening
I don’t know if I can take you on this journey with me. Things are moving so fast. Let me see if I can sum up what I’ve learned, what I’ve come to believe, in the past week or so. The change in my thinking has been breathtakingly fast because these ideas are not really new to me; they have just been presented in a way that makes a great deal of sense, and in a way that makes sense of what I have long felt and suspected and been confused about. Continue reading
The Jives of St. Ives
Be forewarned that I may be on the cusp of a shift in consciousness and, hence, preoccupation. I am in the process of having my mind blown and I am not sure where the pieces will land. Take everything I write–up to now but especially from now on–as descriptive, not prescriptive. Feel free to unfollow.
I am planning to attend one of Cynthia Bourgeault’s beginning wisdom schools. Continue reading
Real flowers
The flowers I arranged for an altar last weekend are kind of a mess today because they are just about to go. The glads are exploding in bloom to their very tips but, lower on the stalks, which are finding it harder to stay upright, the first blooms have already shriveled and dropped. The sunflower petals, crisp and smooth a few days ago, are twisting and falling. The goldenrod is dusted with its own pollen and drooping at the tips. Continue reading
I don’t hate praise music after all
Global Anabaptists dance. Photo by Nina Lanctot
I’ve had an abiding revulsion toward the type of modern church music known as praise songs: the simple, repetitive lyrics projected on a big screen, congregation singing along inaudibly beneath the overamplified performance of the “worship team” but with much arm-waving in praise to God the majestic all-powerful one and Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
Can’t stand it. Continue reading
Encounter in the global village
A choir from Kenya performs on the Global Village stage at Mennonite World Conference Assembly
Cicadas, a crowing rooster, a misguided moth trying to find an opening in the porch screens. I am at home and otherwise alone with time to reflect for the first time in a month. Time, but little mental clarity. It has been quite a month.
On June 25 four friends arrived from DR Congo to spend three and a half weeks in our community, doing volunteer work with members of my congregation, cementing our congregational partnership. And then we attended the global assembly of Mennonites/Anabaptists that takes place somewhere in the world once every six years, this time in Harrisburg, PA. In the last time slot of the last day of the assembly, three of us presented a workshop on church-to-church partnerships. Continue reading
Mystery of the keys
I am busy. I am so busy that I am forgetting things and losing things. Yesterday morning I sat down to meditate and, after three minutes, I forgot that I was meditating and jumped up and started doing something else. I am not used to being this busy but it is for a good cause: an extended visit by friends from Congo. Continue reading
Finding courage
I’ve been wanting to go to a theater to see Inside Out. I never go to theaters any more; we always wait for the DVDs and watch movies in the comfort of our living room, with headphones and subtitles so we don’t have to strain to catch whispered, muttered, or lightning-fast dialog.
But Inside Out feels urgent. According to the reviews, it contains lessons on how to manage emotions, lessons that both young and old need to learn. (If you’re looking for a review of the movie, this is not it because I haven’t seen it yet. Read the reviewer who gushes over it in the staid NYTimes.)
I’ve been struggling with these lessons recently myself and I must be desperate if I’m thinking of turning to a Pixar movie for help. Continue reading
the practical mystic 