by Liz | May 17, 2013 | main
A few weeks back I cranked up my fancy blender and made honey roasted peanut butter. It’s a sort of special treat. I had a massage appointment  soon thereafter, so I took a jar of this homemade yumminess to my massage therapist. My shoulders are often so  tight that I feel sorry for her mission to loosen the muscles and help me stay able to turn my head with ease, so a token of appreciation seemed in order. She was quite pleased. I promptly forgot that I had taken it to her, until yesterday.
When I arrived for my appointment she handed me the same [sort of fancy canning] jar that had born the peanut butter. But, now it was filled with honey from her hives. (Isn’t it great to know someone who can give a wonderful massage and also keeps bees? I think so.) When I explained that this was totally unnecessary, she told me that she had been taught that you don’t return these sorts of things empty. So, she shared with me her gift. She also gave me another gift, I think. That gift was an understanding that I am called to accept and enjoy the gifts God gives me, and in return, it is a good idea to return the vessel with an offering of my own. It’s not required. Â I never told her I wanted the jar back. But, it brings joy on both sides when there is a return. I begin to make concrete the idea that God loves me and that is a gift freely given. But, the relationship, and the growth come out of my openness and response to that gift.
And — I really the honey!
by Liz | May 14, 2013 | main
I love to be read to. I am discriminating, true, with the voices I enjoy listening to, but in general I just really enjoy it.
Today the American Theater class recital filled our Brown Bag lunch hour. My mom is a repeat participant in this class, and both times I have been present for the readings, her particular readings (from plays) always amaze me. No wonder I love to be read to.
Mama sat and read from Nora Ephram’s play (title is something like “Love, Loss and What I Wore”). She had never seen the particular story before, but she read it as though she was relating her own story. I listened and thought, once again, “No wonder I love to be read to.””
The gifts our mother’s give us… so often we must grow up, and perhaps become mothers and grandmothers in order to appreciate these gifts. I think I read reasonably well. I practiced my craft by reading to babies as I rocked them. They never laughed. I was free to try out all manner of expression, all sorts of timing and inflection without fear of being laughed at. Did my mother learn that way? Or is it simply her gift?
Thank you Mama for this gift. I only hope I can pass it on.
by Liz | Apr 28, 2013 | main
A week or so ago at a funeral I listened as a son stood and offered his memories and reflections on his father and his father’s life. Much of it was the very personal, but very normal, memories of events which brought smiles from the family and friends that knew Bob well. Some was history and background that added to my understanding of the man whose life we were celebrating. And then, the son hit that place where the voice cracks, and the words are difficult to push out. In one of those profound, soul touching moments where you look down into a well and in shock see your own face greeting you from the mirrored surface of the water he said “I finally saw that those things I so admired and loved in my father, he saw in me.”
What a gift!
My soul was touched well beyond this particular father and son. Perhaps I can begin now to see that some of those things I so “admire and respect” in Jesus, in Christ, in God, in the Spirit are also seen by God in me. May we all truly be One in the Spirit. May those good and loving attributes be seen in each of us. And may we have the gift of recognizing it.
by Liz | Apr 26, 2013 | main
Today’s Gospel, John 14:1-6 comes to my mind often, and generally brings a quiet smile.
Jesus said to his disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.
Where (I) am going you know the way.”
Thomas said to him, “Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?”
Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
I find peace in the idea that there are many rooms (dwelling places) so that all are welcome in this great house we so often call heaven. I find comfort that someone is getting it ready and will take me to just my spot at just the right time. I can relax a bit with the idea that there truly is no written treasure map, but instead the ongoing, growing relationship with Jesus/Christ/God to find the way. If there is no written map, then I don’t have to try to find it – I only need to stay with the tour guide as best I can and let him/her show me the way.
Note: writing this has opened a floodgate of thoughts, feelings, beliefs that I am not yet ready to share. So, for now, I’ll work through them in private, seeking to understand better the Way.
by Liz | Oct 20, 2012 | main
For almost a year now I have been adapting to the changes in the English mass — moving from “And also with you” Â to ” And with your Spirit”, and no longer using “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.” Â Many rather small changes, but things that have interrupted the rhythm of the mass I knew and loved from the time I came in to the Catholic Church.
Today we celebrated with my niece and her husband as they celebrated their second anniversary, renewed their wedding vows and had their marriage blessed and celebrated in the Episcopal Church. It felt both odd and comforting to revert to those phrases that have been dropped and replaced in the Catholic mass. Yes, the rite is slightly different, but oh so familiar and comforting. It felt almost more like mass that I know and love than the masses I attend weekly. It always makes me smile and relax when the Episcopal priest joyfully invites all to share at the Lord’s table (yes, I have no qualms about receiving communion in this church… )
In a funny way, I have a deep knowing that perhaps it would be possible to be at home somewhere other than with the RC’s. I’m not leaving, but it is just good to know that there are other places that can feel like home. It let’s me know at a deep level that “we are many parts, we are all one body” indeed. It lets me know that there are places where I can sit out a storm should I need to.
Thanks Beth and Kelly for letting me be a part of this whole celebration. It means more than you could ever know.
