Thankfulness

Well, it's been a while.

It's been a challenging few months; Beloved has had struggles with her depression and her job; I've had a new job (which I love, but being new somewhere sort of demands that you raise the level of your game), and there have been a couple of other "extra effort" sorts of circumstances. I've had NO time to write, or even to think too deeply or for too long.

Which is, perhaps, a blessing in disguise. ;-)

And we're heading into December, which is generally my most stressful month of the year. But today I'm in a good place with it. The last few days have taught me some stuff; Beloved and I stayed home and had a quiet Thanksgiving together, and it's been a terrific weekend framed by wonderful worship services at my home church.

For the six of you who are still reading after this long hiatus, I shall spill out the wisdom that's presently in my tenuous grasp:

• In times of stress, sometimes you have to pare down to the essentials as a family. Being able to say "No, thank you" is a critical survival skill.
• Remembering to do something sweet and surprising during such a time can have extra impact. Beloved got me a "real" version of this piece of art, had it beautifully framed and gave it to me on Thanksgiving. Ummm...wow. I get a bit weepy just thinking about it. The Ruth passage it references was read at our wedding.
• Ask for help when you need it. (I know...duh, but I'm still working on this lesson, after years of Life's gracious re-presentation of opportunities to learn it.)
• Speak your truth, even when it's difficult. Sometimes the only way forward is through.
• Love is all around. Look for its impish grin peeking at you around corners and beckoning you.
• Finally, from Meister Eckhart: if the only prayer you say in your life is "thank you," that would suffice.

About that last one--though I find much of contemporary culture (at least that part that relates to getting/having/sharing our stuff) seriously out of whack, I have to say that a day set aside for pondering the gifts of our lives, and being thankful for them, is a not-so-distant relative of the Biblical concept of jubilee. In the same way that jubilee released people from debt and punishment, intentional thankfulness releases us from the bindings of fear and despair by reframing our vision.

• Instead of worrying about what might be, we see what is.
• Instead of focusing on the material (and its potential for loss), thankfulness rightly locates us in the abundance of God's mercy and love.
• Instead of ruminating about "I," we find ourselves in relationship with "Thou" (and "thou," and "thou," and "thou...").

This is all to the good, and I'm facing December with a lens of quiet confidence and with a singing heart...at least, for today.

Deo gratias.

Friday five: Holy Week-a-thon

Sally of the RevGals writes:

Holy Week is almost upon us, I suspect that ordained or not, other revgal/pals calendars look a bit like mine, FULL, FULL, FULL.....

Jesus was great at teaching us to take time out, even in that last week, right up to Maundy Thursday he withdrew, John's gospel tells us he hid! He hid not because he was afraid, but because he knew that he needed physical, mental and spiritual strength to get through...

So, faced with a busy week:

1. What restores you physically?

Sleep. Quiet time. Good food. A brisk walk around one of the many lakes in town.

2. What strengthens you emotionally/mentally?

Time with Beloved. Poetry. Music (of which there will, thankfully, be a lot). Rubbing a puppy belly.

3. What encourages you spiritually?

Prayer. Music (see what my friend Mags has to say about this; it's wonderful!). Poetry. Walking in the woods or by the shore (though I usually can't manage that during Holy Week!).

4. Share a favorite poem or piece of music from the coming week.

This is a favorite hymn of mine because the plaintive melody is so well matched with the text. I'm an especial fan of the Carolyn Jennings's arrangement for SSA voices and cello, but her colleague (and my teacher...actually, both of them were in grad school) John Ferguson's arrangement is great, too. Here he is, accompanying it at the organ:



5.There may be many services for you to attend/ lead over the next week, which one are you most looking forward to and why? If there aren't do you have a favorite day in Holy week if so which one is it?

I'm a Maundy Thursday fan. It's intimate and honest, and it calls us into relationship with God and with one another in a refreshing way. Our service this year will be candlelit, in the round, with the bread and wine passed hand to hand instead of lining up for it. Simple Taize refrains by the congregation, and I'm going to sing this hymn that Bonhoeffer wrote in prison:

By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered,
and confidently waiting come what may,
we know that God is with us night and morning,
and never fails to greet us each new day.

Yet is this heart by its old foe tormented
still evil days bring burdens hard to bear;
oh, give our frightened souls the sure salvation
for which, O Lord, You taught us to prepare.

And when this cup You give is filled to brimming
with bitter suffering, hard to understand,
we take it thankfully and without trembling,
out of so good and so beloved a hand.

Yet when again in this same world You give us
the joy we had, the brightness of Your Sun,
we shall remember all the days we lived through,
and our whole life shall then be Yours alone.

Friday five: fork in the road

Singing Owl of the RevGals writes:

I am at a life-changing juncture. I do not know which way I will go, but I have been thinking about the times, people and events that changed my life (for good or ill) in significant ways. For today's Friday Five, share with us five "fork-in-the-road" events, or persons, or choices. And how did life change after these forks in the road?

I'm reminded of the Yogi Berra quote

When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

Funny...and yet descriptive, too. 'Cause that's how I roll:

Age 9: I remember trying to decide which I liked more: visual art or music? I was trying to decide where to focus my energy. (No, I wasn't overprogrammed, just a thinker.) I really enjoyed both, and liked the fact that I always had something to show for my effort after art class. But I loved to sing, and had just started guitar lessons on my 3/4 size red-and-black acoustic guitar. I liked the way that I felt more alive somehow when I sang...and so my Inner Romantic conquered my Inner Pragmatist for the first of, oh, I don't even KNOW how many decisions. I made the right call, though--I'm a decent musician, but have no discernible talent in the visual arts. :-)

Age 19: Music Therapy major or Music Education major? After much agonizing I ended up trying both and then graduating with an extremely marketable B.A. in Music. (snicker) I had a starter job in music publishing, in which I've worked on and off for my whole career, and so I decided to GRADUATE and get on with my life!

Age 29: Continue in corporate training or go to seminary? I was off to a good start as a trainer, and more-or-less liked it. Was making good money, had a lot of contacts...and was ultimately dissatisfied that it was the way I should be spending my time and effort. And it seemed that a deeper voice was speaking in me. Seminary it was. Now: MDiv or MSM (sacred music)? It was music...but I haven't stopped considering MDiv as well. Maybe my denomination will make that a bit easier for me next summer.

Age 39: Continue in church music or go back to training? I'd had a shattering experience at my First Big Church Job and was seriously questioning my calling...not to mention having a pile of debt from going back to school. Exhausted and disheartened, I wasn't sure I was willing to put myself back together and try to continue church work. And then there was The Interview. I met with the hiring committee of my present church and something deep inside me sang...and that was the right answer, the healing answer, the real answer.

Age 9-29: I think I'm gay. Do I ignore it and hope it goes away, or do I find out more about what it might mean for me? From 9-18, I ignored it. From 18-19, I fell in love and got my heart broken. From 19-29 I fought it. At 29, I fell in love with Beloved and the world opened up.

And I knew what to do.

In sickness and in health

There once was a girl with bronchitis
resulting from bad gingivitis:
she had such a cough
that her head popped right off,
and teeth flew both leftus and rightus.

Her wife (herself wracked with pneumonia)
slapped her forehead and was heard to groan-ia
“Oh, no! With my wheezes
or a fit of the sneezes
I worry that I got some onia.”

“Never fear,” said Wife One with great vigor;
“It matters not WHAT pulled the trigger.
Put to rest your compunction;
what we need is an unction
that’ll keep us from becoming sigger.

I’m sure there’s a cure pharmaceutical;
don’t gnaw on your very last cuticle!
We agreed, when we married,
we’d both bear what each carried.
Now gimme a smooch matrimootical!”

Write to marry day

Marriage--right up there with "abortion" as a hair-trigger cultural issue, virtually guaranteeing an emotional response from a large percentage of the population.

Marriage, apparently, requires serious protection from the likes of my wife and me:

• We've been in a committed relationship for eleven years, and were married in the church a year and nine days ago.
  
• I'm a Lutheran church musician. She is a speech pathologist, working with inner-city preschoolers.
  
• We helped to found a choir that sings concerts to feed the hungry.
  
• We have two puppies.
  
• We drive small, fuel-efficient cars.
  
• We own our home (well, really, the bank owns most of it, but you get the idea...).
  
• We mow our grass, rake our leaves and shovel our snow.
  
• We have a wide circle of friends and a wonderful church community.
  
• We have clean criminal records.
  
• We are monogamous.
  
• We recycle.
  
• We spent last weekend buying groceries, doing laundry, take the dogs to the dog park, mowing the lawn, adding shelves to the linen closet, doing music at church (choir, recorder, drum, guitar) and editing a line of Lutheran choral music.
  
• We support a little girl in Africa and have seven godchildren between us.
  
• We make charitable contributions to worthy organizations.
  
• We try to eat our vegetables, exercise regularly, save a little money and pay our bills on time.
  
• We vote.
  
• We pay our taxes faithfully, seeing them mostly as contributions to the greater good that make society run.
  

Oooo. Scary.

It seems that we represent a major threat to civilization, intent as we are said to be on dismantling the very nature of family.

Go figure.

The tax part is where the argument against my marriage breaks down for me. There are more than 1400 federal rights and protections that accompany a marriage license. We have exactly zero legal standing as a couple, despite our eleven years together. Every day, straight people marry in Vegas after a night of drinking, or on a whim. People marry for all kinds of reasons. Some marriages last a lifetime, and some marriages don't even last a month. Yet members of straight marriages automatically get hospital visitation, power of attorney, inheritance rights, joint ownership, Social Security survivor benefits, adoption rights, bereavement leaves, protection from domestic violence, and a long, long list of legal and financial conveniences and protections.

My wife and I get none of those. Our tax dollars do nothing for us in this regard. We have wills, we have power of attorney, and medical decisionmaking for one another because we paid hundreds of dollars for the legal work to get...hmm...about seven of those 1400+ rights that come with a marriage license. And even this much protection is subject to legal challenge by her less-than-sympathetic family of origin.

We are conscientious, contributing members of society. The hysterical campaign of those who need to have someone to blame for their discomfort with differences has a real cost to us, financially and psychologically. It's exhausting after a while, to be someone else's designated scapegoat, due entirely to a characteristic which is beyond my control. I'm tired of being demonized for someone else's political agenda.

This is a simple issue of fairness. I don't want "special" rights. I want the same ones that my straight loved ones have. No more. No less.

Really--is THIS what everyone is afraid of? Are you KIDDING me?


Want to know what scares me? That she'll get sick or hurt...that I won't have the legal papers with me in that critical moment, and will therefore not be consulted about her care or even get to visit her. That she could die alone in a strange emergency room because I left the paperwork at home. That her family could contest her will, kicking me out of my own home and leaving me out of decision making about, or presence at her funeral. That I'd be without her and destitute because they could lay claim to the property we've acquired together, and I won't be entitled to any federal survivor benefits, her pension, etc.

Think I'm paranoid? It happens all the time. I know of a guy whose partner's family wouldn't even tell him where his partner of two decades was buried.

Whatever your feeling about GLBT relationships, no one deserves this. To those of you who have a vote in this matter: PLEASE consider us and the millions like us around the country. Here, but for the grace of genetics, go you. To those of you who have any kind of voice in the process wherever you live, please speak up for your GLBT brothers and sisters. We're no different from you. We're no more or less likely to do right or to do wrong than anyone else. The one and only difference is the physical makeup of those we love.

As far as the future of marriage is concerned, we have no interest in destroying it. We just want to participate in it.

The sanctity of marriage

My congregation, like most other ELCA congregations at present, is reviewing the draft of the ELCA Social Statement on Sexuality. We got to the "same-sex relationships" part of the discussion on Sunday morning, and I've been ruminating about it since.

The Statement itself is a well-intentioned document. I really believe that. However, I think they might be trying too hard. It seems like a document that's genuinely trying to be sensitive to both the unity needs of the institution and the pastoral needs of its members. That's commendable, but it doesn't exactly SAY anything cohesive, at least in regard to the same-sex relationship question. Maybe that's where it should be right now; I dunno. Maybe it's a pretty accurate expression of where we are as a Lutheran body. Maybe this document is there primarily to spark conversation.

And I have to say, it did that on Sunday--with help from Wonderful Colleague's deft facilitation. There was a really interesting discussion. More on that in a bit.

Here's my problem: the Statement seems a bit condescending to the GLBT members of the Body of Christ. Sadly, that is only in keeping with the Church's position, even at its most open. It suggests that "all life-giving relationships...may be nurtured," (may?) and yet denies that "marriage" is open to everyone. Some would argue that it's a semantic question as long as there's an option for a Holy Union or something like it, and there's some truth in that: after all, the Church doesn't define the nature of my relationship with Beloved--she and I and God do that. In that light, the name of it doesn't really matter. However, the single substantive difference between my marriage and the straight marriages I've been privileged to witness among my family and friends is just this: anatomy. And so, to suggest that my marriage should be called something else rings hollow for me, because, in my mind, it is defined by its substance, not its outward appearance. I am married.

My marriage demands that I keep on trying to live with humility, integrity and generosity, with humor and with grace. It opens me to the presence of this beautiful, mysterious Other, lifting me out of myself and challenging me to grow into relationship with her and with God, every single day of my life. Beloved is my companion, my teacher, my friend, my love. Sex is one expression of that love, but my no means is it the only--or even the most important--expression.

And so, to define my relationship by something other than its central focus--well, to me that's a distortion of the relationship (and one that renders me other, to boot). That distortion then continues to warp the Church's conversation about the nature of the relationship. Circular problem, no?

My marriage asks me to be a follower of Christ in a deeper way than any other relationship of my life. Isn't that a concern of the Church? Shouldn't that be the focus of the Church's interest in that relationship?

Some people believe that GLBT types should try to follow the same path as our straight sisters and brothers: no sex outside of marriage, and marriage only to an opposite-sex partner. And I support the spirit of that demand, but there are two problems with it:

• I believe, like Luther, that chastity is a charism, a gift, given to everyone for some period of time, and to a few for their whole lives. It's a tough place to live permanently, and not everyone is equipped for it. The consequences for those who are damaged by the unrealistic expectation of permanent chastity are often shattering--sometimes in the form of inappropriate sexual contact, of which examples abound; sometimes in the form of crippling loneliness. Some people do live it out well, and it's a commitment that demands just as much from a person as marriage does. However:
  
• I believe that I am called to be a married person. I cannot, in good conscience, make that sacred commitment to a man, because I know that I can't offer my whole self to that commitment. Thus, the marriage would be over before it began. If I am to be the person I'm called to be, I must honor that commitment with everything I am. That can't happen with a man. I won't live a lie at his expense, in order to "save" myself, now that I understand what my makeup is. That would be dishonest and cowardly of me, at this stage of my life. Besides which, it usually doesn't work. Many of my friends have tried this avenue (with both good and fearful intentions), and a part of that result has been suffering for all concerned. I have at least a dozen friends who, trying to be their best Christian selves by conforming to what they thought God (and everyone else) wanted from them, got married...and eventually divorced. They discovered that there was pain and loneliness where there should have been communion, through the fault of neither party. Please understand that I'm not intending to imply that there wasn't value in those relationships, but I know that it's not where I'm called to be. It's just not in keeping with my understanding of the abundant love of God.
  

As a guy once said, after having wrestled with God, sin, heresy and Church doctrine...and having staked his own soul on his conviction:

Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me.

There must be a provision made for GLBT people to live in committed relationships. In the short term, if it saves the "unity" of the church (on the most superficial of levels), I can live with a term like "holy union," and with a "local option" as a first step. But in the end, it's a sweet-sounding avoidance of the truth of the matter, and so we'll be condemned to keep coming back to this tiresome discussion until we finally get it right--because, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said,

The arc of the moral universe is long, but it's bent toward justice.

One gracious, struggling, straight member of the Body expressed on Sunday that, while she loves her gay friends and has actively advocated on their behalf within the legal system for non-discrimination concerns, she also struggles with the placement of God's line in the sand beyond which our behavior must not stray. She's trying to balance the demands of the Law with the demands of Love, and it's confusing. I have great respect for her wrestling with this very important question. It's one we all share, if we're honest about it. At the end of the day, she wants to know that God does expect something of us, after all.

So do I. And I want my Church to expect something of me, as well. I want my Church to ask me to be Christ's follower with as much honesty, integrity, and grace as I can. And so, I want my Church to ask the same thing of me that it asks of my straight sisters and brothers: be honest about who you are, be chaste until marriage, and then live out your marriage commitment as fully and lovingly as you are able.

THAT'S the kind of pastoral care that I need, as a lesbian. Not "special" rights. Not a pat on the shoulder signifying that my Church wants to love me but can't quite manage it because unity must be maintained as a higher value. I dream of a Church with the courage to truly ask ALL of us to be our best, fullest, bravest Christian selves for the sake of the Gospel...which is not necessarily synonymous with the safety and comfort of the institutional Church.

Friday five: back to school

It's time for a Back-To-School Friday Five!

1. Is anyone going back to school, as a student or teacher, at your house? How's it going so far?
Well, I work for a university and Beloved is a speech/language pathologist for the public schools, so things are stepping up for both of us. It also means the beginning of rehearsals for church and our other choir, so our big challenge at the moment is making sure the pups don't spend their entire lives in their kennel. They're becoming rather well-traveled, and the pup-sitters are in full swing!

2. Were you glad or sad when back-to-school time came as a kid?
Yes. I've always loved the comparative calm of summer; there's more time to read! But there's something about a fresh bag of school supplies that makes my heart beat a bit faster. :-) I was a good student and liked learning, so school was fun, for the most part.

3. Did your family of origin have any rituals to mark this time of year? How about now?
My sister and I always played "store" together after we came home from school-supply shopping; one of my favorite memories of kidhood. Now, the only ritual Beloved and I have is stepped-up conversation about calendars!

4. Favorite memories of back-to-school outfits, lunchboxes, etc?
One year, I had a Charlie's Angels lunchbox. This was funny, because I lived close enough to school that I came home for lunch. But I had pined for the thing, because I just loved that show, so Mom got it for me. Pretty cool surprise! I still carried it, but more as a mini-backpack.

Also, my paternal grandmother used to buy me an outfit for back-to-school every year. Now, it was the '70s, but these were some of the godawfulest clothes you've ever seen; gray wool for a kindergartener? I know, right? Seriously, the fact that she'd raised three boys was never more evident than in the little pantsuits and loud patterns she bought me.

Hmmm...pantsuits as a little kid. Maybe THAT's why I'm gay.

LOL...

5. What was your best year of school?
There were two: I loved sixth grade, and also junior year of high school. I had a serious crush on my sixth-grade teacher, and was happy to finally be in the "oldest" class at my elementary school. I was a really shy kid, and sixth grade was sort of an "oasis" year when I felt like I was starting not to be such a geek. (That feeling went away pretty quickly when I got to middle school, BTW.)

Junior year was great, because I had a close group of friends (a year older than I, which made senior year sort of a drag) and a nice boyfriend; I could drive; I helped to found a choir at school; and finally, I was co-president of the orchestra along with L, my stand partner and best friend. That year was a LOT of fun. (We STILL have a great time together!)

Ordinary miracles

It's Monday morning, and I'm mellow and happy. I had an actual Sabbath yesterday (after a wild-but-good, musicky Rally/Welcome Sunday) at church.

42 years old, and I may just have figured out that I need a day or two to get comparatively quiet...watch the pups romp in the yard, read a bit, eat a really nice meal, make a little music, curl up with Beloved and the pups and just enjoy the fact that we're all together, healthy, sheltered, fed. Ordinary miracles--when I get quiet enough to notice their abundance, it's impossible not to be incredibly grateful to be alive.

I hope that you're drenched in blessing today, too. :-)

We caved.

We let the pups into the Big Bed last night. Lucy was in heaven. Linus wanted his space. Jury's still out for Beloved, but I think it's not insignificant that we were allowed to sleep all the way to the ringing alarm this morning, for the first time since the pups arrived!

And it was sweet. :-)

The great escape

So. We have smart dogs. Perhaps they're smarter than we are.

Envision the four of us at S&J's cabin, which is absolutely lovely (he loves to build, she loves to decorate--it's really something!). Know also that Beloved and I are hyper-vigilant about the pups not messing it up via tiny teeth or even tinier bladders.

Finally, Beloved and I are in SUCH need of a getaway; it's been a busy, somewhat stressful summer, and we really need some quiet time.

Oh, and sleep. Did I mention sleep?

First night there, we've put Linus & Lucy's yellow and blue nylon travel kennel in the living room, outfitted it with chew toys and got them into it. We're in the bedroom, discussing whether or not to close the bedroom door (I think it'll comfort them to be able to hear us; Beloved wants not to hear THEM, just for the sake of one good night's sleep.) We close the door.

In the morning, we open the door to be greeted by a flurry of wagging tails. They've escaped. They're pleased with themselves and excited to see us.

It's cute. And there's no damage (alleluia).

Night two: we're ready for 'em. There are two zipper tabs that close the kennel. We've hooked them together with a paper clip. We're pleased with our problem-solving.

Let the tooth-brushing begin!

Five minutes later, there's the tailwagging thing again. In the bedroom, next to our bed. Really can't help but laugh. They're grinning.

Smart puppies. Tired mamas let them into the Big Bed for the duration of the trip. Much sweetness, but it's continually amazing to me just how much room a small animal can commandeer in a people-sized bed.

How do they DO that?

We got played. :-)

Pupdate

Well.

It's been quite a week: I was in a 3-day class about navigating the U's new financial system (it's my job to process contracts for our writers, designers, proofers, etc., and to handle all of my office's purchasing); my choir had a summer gig; the choral line I'm editing for the local Lutheran publishing house has reached the proofing phase, which always creates a flurry of e-mails and some packages to mail out; I had a church meeting on Tuesday; I'm preaching tomorrow, and then my parents are coming for lunch; finally, we have friends coming for dinner.

And the pups are sick. Hookworms. Eeeeeyew.

Linus seems pretty OK, with the meds they're on; Lucy has had a tough few days. I'll leave it mostly to your imagination, but she got dehydrated enough that the vet gave her subcutaneous fluids on Thursday. She's on a special diet for a few days in addition to the meds, and the vet hasn't ruled out parvo as the cause. We've been in "watch her closely" mode since Thursday, and I'm starting to be less worried today; but for being a tiny bit subdued, she seems almost back to normal. Whew.

Because parvo would suck.

They were good little campers last week! Better than Beloved and I were, I suspect; we were too exhausted. But M and B are patient sorts, and they (along with one of the women in the next campsite over, who seems to be some kind of "dog whisperer") helped to make it work. Thanks be to them. :-) They took pictures of the pups in the lake for the first time (wearing expressions that said "I'm wet. WTF?") and provided "auntie" laps for campfire enjoyment, among many kindnesses.

***Breaking news*** The pups are galloping through the house in tandem, both having grabbed an end of their latest loofa toy. They look like a yoke of tiny oxen. This is Outer Limits Cute.

So. Very little time to blog or to read others' blogs this week, and I've missed it--and have missed my bloggy friends! The pups and Beloved and I are finding our rhythm together, though. As long as I get the sermon written today, and Lucy's OK, all will be well.

So I'm gonna go do that. :-) Peace, friends!

And in the seventh month, they rested

Beloved, the pups and I are going camping for a few days with M and B, who comprise one third of our mishpacha. We try to get out in the woods together at least once a summer, and always have a great time together. We'll walk in the woods and make s'mores and sit around the fire and play games and read and wander into town when it rains. We'll be quiet. We'll enjoy each other's company. We'll rest. And this time, we'll have the fun of taking the pups along.

(They made it through the whole night without getting up again last night, BTW. That's two in a row!)

Thanks be to God for times of rest, for beautiful creation, for the sounds of wind in the trees and waves on the shore, the smell of a campfire, and loved ones to shared it with.


See y'all next week!

Meet the newest members of the family...

Linus and Lucy!

They're litter mates, part beagle, part terrier...rescue dogs, 20 weeks old. We cuddled them for an hour tonight, and they'll come home on Saturday. :-)

Friday five: the view from my chair

A visual Friday five (thanks, Sally!) answered by an aurally-fixated soul:

1. How important is the "big picture" to you, do you need a glimpse of the possibilities or are you a details person?

I serve in a leadership capacity (mostly big-picture) in several arenas, and a support capacity (mostly little details) in my day job. Feels a bit bipolar to me, but I'm trying to see it as a spiritual practice to balance the two–to find the "third way," if you will.

2. If the big picture is important to you how do you hold onto it in the nitty-gritty details of life?

Big picture is MUCH easier for me than details (with the caveat that I may occasionally be deluding myself; see this post, below). For the details: lists. Love writing 'em, rearranging 'em, crossing things off. :-)

3. Name a book, poem, psalm, piece of music that transports to to another dimension (one...what am I thinking...)

The choral music of Arvo Part (really any of it) pops a big tranquilizer dart into my "monkey mind" (wow, I'm such a Buddhist today!) and suspends me in midair, up by the rose window of a beautiful cathedral. Mmmmmm...

4. Thinking of physical views, is there somewhere that inspires you, somewhere that you breathe more easily?

Two views come to mind that ease me into a feeling of presence in the moment: a vista of Big Water (almost any) and Beloved, asleep (awwwww).

5. A picture opportunity... post one if you can ( or a link to one!)



Again, mmmmmm... this was taken on our honeymoon, from the deck of the lake cabin where we stayed.

Friday five: where in the world is Choralgirl Sandiego?

The RevGals are all about location, location, location this week, in honor of the fact that many are meeting up in Minneapolis next week for the Festival of Homiletics--fun!

Today's challenge: name five places that fall into the following categories:

1) Favorite Destination -- someplace you've visited once or often and would gladly go again

The hammock at S&J's cabin in WI, to hear the lapping of the waves and watch the birds as I drink iced tea and read an absorbing book, or cuddle with Beloved. We were there on our honeymoon.

2) Unfavorite Destination -- someplace you wish you had never been (and why)

While on a National Lutheran Choir tour some years ago, we stayed at a truly dreadful, roach-infested motel in South Carolina...don't need to go there again (though I'm sure it's not representative of the whole state).

3) Fantasy Destination -- someplace to visit if cost and/or time did not matter

How many picks do I get?

• hey, after yesterday--maybe San Francisco, to get LEGALLY married!
  
• find my relatives in Norway & see the fjords
• hike and eat my way through Tuscany...actually, through most of Europe. :-)
  
• seeing the Cathedral at Chartres, as well as some of European choral festivals and opera houses would be nice
• two cruises: one to Alaska (before the glaciers melt) and one to the Greek isles (including Lesbos, despite the fact that several of its residents are trying to belatedly reclaim the word "lesbian" as their own; pretty sure that horse has already left the barn)
  

4) Fictional Destination -- someplace from a book or movie or other art or media form you would love to visit, although it exists only in imagination

• I would SO love to have access to a Holodeck, like they did in Star Trek TNG!!
• Hogwarts wouldn't be bad, either; I'd like to have a cuppa with Minerva and shake Harry, Ron & Hermione's hands.
  

5) Funny Destination -- the funniest place name you've ever visited or want to visit

Well, I have a couple of vacation photos of me, Beloved, M and B at street signs for "Dyke Avenue" and "Dyke Street" (in different towns). (see also: Lesbos)

Chortle.

Relief on the reef

It'll be a short one tonight, but I wanted to offer an update about my Twisted Wrister. Beloved had surgery today to repair her spectacularly broken wrist, and it went well. It was a really l-o-n-g day, but we've made it to the point of "OK, let the healing begin!"

That healing has been helped along by the prayers, good wishes, and practical support of many, especially B and M, who have made a tough week easier with their many kindnesses. Family is a good thing, in all its forms.
Thank you to all of you.

On a brighter note, despite the practical challenges of Beloved's injury, she was an absolute trooper through our final two concerts of the season. In a 14-person choir, it's a big deal when one can't sing, and so she propped herself up on a stool and toughed it out. One of our basses was also on a stool, about 5 weeks ahead of her in healing his broken ankle.

We looked kind of funny.

I talked with the audience at a couple of points in the program, to shed some light on the more challenging music. I was joking about the Britten pieces we were singing, which aren't performed often because of the technical difficulties for the singers: "Obviously, we're a bit worse for wear. This is full-contact choral singing, people! Put your helmets on!" (cue audience laughter here)

It was a great experience. The choir really came into its own with these last two concerts, after two years of work and four concert seasons. And we raised enough money in these two concerts to feed forty kids for a year through our charity partner. And this is the second concert weekend of two. Time well spent. And we got some invitations for future concerts, as well.

And let's not forget Pentecost worship, which was stuffed with music. My church choir sang their hearts out. Perhaps the most obvious evidence of the Holy Spirit's presence: during the closing hymn, my dear, wonderful, straight-white-middle-aged-Lutheran choir danced.

Together.

Spontaneously.

It was my favorite moment of a full-to-bursting-with-wonders weekend.

With these happenings, another singing/conducting season draws to a close. I'm grateful to have arrived, more-or-less in one piece, at the fallow season. I expect that to last about two weeks before I miss it desperately. :-)

Peace, friends, and thank you for your kindness.

#%+*@! insurance

So...no surgery tomorrow; it will be next week instead. Got to the orthopedic surgeon's office today (the one to whom our in-network hospital referred us, and whose eligibility I checked with the insurance provider on Tuesday morning) and discovered that he is not, in fact, in Beloved's network. Got the (rueful) boot from the doc's front desk staff.

Sat in the car and called the insurance provider, receiving three more names which would later prove ineligible, upon further investigation. Thankfully, the doc called Beloved's cell phone and invited her back in, for free, to explain the surgery and what she should expect, to refill her almost-empty scrip for pain meds, and (may he live 1,000 years) to get us in with another surgeon in the area, whom he trusts. And his staff checked with the new guy's staff and made SURE that the insurance end checked out OK.

So we're going to see the new guy tomorrow, and the surgery will be next week sometime.

#%+*@! insurance.

Thank you, Doc.

Beloved, a little bit broken

So...one of my favorite phrases to describe the human condition is that we're all God's children, broken and beloved.

Perhaps until yesterday, when Beloved got broken.

Specifically, her wrist...in Tae Kwon Do, sort of a freak accident. Her colleagues took her to Urgent Care, so that the doctor could breathlessly report, "Holy crap, you just shattered that sucker! I mean, you really MESSED IT UP!! You're looking at surgery for SURE. You're a medical marvel, you are. Never saw anything like it in my LIFE. Can't do a thing for you." (Not a direct quote, but that was the gist...)

Sigh. Said it to my (normally stoic) weeping wife (completely freaking her out), and then wanted her to drag her medically marvelous (and still unsplinted) self down the hall to look at the x-ray with him and hear the speech again. Sans painkillers of any kind.

I must admit, I briefly considered creating a situation in which HE would wish for painkillers.

Mastered myself, got the x-rays, got her splinted and OUT of there. So then we got to do it all again at the emergency room. For six hours. The staff there was great, though. A portrait of competent compassion.

And now she's at home for the week, anticipating surgery on Friday to put the thing right.

BUT, there are things for which I'm grateful in this:

• a speedy, loving rescue with some practical stuff, carried out by M and B of our Mishpacha (thanks, girls, for your nimble grace and kindness)
• it's her left hand, not her right (she's right-handed)
• we have insurance, unlike so many others who have to do this on their own
  
• we don't have to do this on a regular basis, and it's not life-threatening, just a painful hassle.

So...happy to be home with her tonight, and to have such lovely support around us. And to realize that we beloved ones can break and not, well, BREAK. :-)

All prayers for healing gratefully accepted, though!

Peace, friends.

Ruth's song

Entreat me not to leave thee,
or to return
from following after thee:
for whither thou goest,
I will go;
and where thou lodgest,
I will lodge:
thy people shall be my people,
and thy God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die,
and there will I be buried:
the LORD do so to me,
and more also,
if ought but death part thee and me.

Ruth 1:16-17 (KJV)

We'll make our way in blithe, concerted grace
within the sun's refracted benediction
which warms the tender, tiny, arcing space
wherein resounds my heart's truest petition:
that we, though stumbling dazed through rayless reach
of night and loss, hold fast to covenant
which binds our hollowed hearts, defying each
reverberation of our keening chant
and as we glean the fields of gleaming gold
and taste their hard-won grains of honeyed wheat
that seeds of fresh joy bloom within our souls
and melodies invite our knowing feet
back to our allemande of blue-tinged leap,
until we rest on wings of cloudless sleep.

A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge

That's from Thomas Carlyle, and seems a lovely place to rest on Valentine's Day.

It's been a challenging couple of days; two of my "circles" are fairly-to-partly toxic, for a variety of reasons. I'm madly playing reveille in the dormitory where sleep the better angels of my nature. They seem not to want to report for duty today. Up, little angels, wake up...

On to better things: this is a day in which we celebrate love, and I am blessed beyond belief. I have a wife who loves and cares for me in many and various ways, always surprising me with some new way to look at things or to make our house (and lives) run more smoothly. This last couple of weeks, she very kindly gathered together and organized all our tax information--for each of us, our house, and the choir we helped to start. I had to do virtually nothing, and it's a task I really dislike. This is emblematic of the "feet on the street" kind of love she offers me every day. She is kind and patient, a great listener, and can make me laugh from the bottoms of my feet. I'm humbled and grateful...and just smitten with her. That is a great gift. Thanks, babe, for sharing your life with me.

Hmmm...I think I just heard the rustle of wings. Onward and upward...

Happy Valentine's Day! :-)