by Liz | Sep 6, 2013 | main
I fly to Paris in less than 3 weeks. From there I travel by train to Bayonne and on to St. Jean Pied de Port, where my Camino begins on Sept. 27. So, you had better believe I’m up to my eyeballs in preparation. Actually, it is emotional eyeballs as much, or more than physical eyeballs. I fret over exactly what to pack, how to stay light weight but have enough of what I really need. What do I really need? What can be left behind? Will my flight be a smooth one? Will it be on time? Will I have trouble meeting up with Susan in Paris? Am I in good enough shape physically to attempt this? I don’t like being wet and cold, but I’ll bet there will be times when I will be… Will we actually complete the Camino in the time we have allotted?
You get the picture, huh?
I thought about it the other night before sleeping. When I leave for the Camino, these 6 or so weeks will be the longest separation from my husband in 38 years. I have moved several times, but I’ve never, in my life, just taken off on a 6 week trip. I believe that if it were up to my mother and my daughter, I might not be allowed to go. I look forward to something that suspect will be part religious pilgrimage and part pure adventure. I can’t tell you (or myself) exactly why I want to go, only that I know it is time and I am called to go. It’s almost “I must go.”
There is a song we sing at church: Companions on the Journey. I’m sure I will meet many new companions on this journey. But, I also will take with me reminders of companions that won’t be walking with me. I have Pheza’s hydration pack in my backpack. Lucy let me use a walking stick. Jeremy loaned me a SIM card for the phone I’ll be taking. Much of my gear was bought with an REI gift certificate that my children gave me for my birthday. I have a good hat and a good rain jacket because JP couldn’t rest until he knew I had them (and a sleeping bag, a well-fitted backpack, etc).
And so, there is the balance: what to leave behind, what will come along because it is chosen, what comes along because it is a part of my very being. I wonder what the balance will look like when I return. That will be interesting.
Ultreya!
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 | Feb 21, 2013 | main
“Seek and ye shall find” pretty much sums up today’s gospel reading.
The questions for me boil down to:
What am I seeking?
How will I accept what I might find?
I think of my husband’s approach to so many things: Don’t ask questions when you don’t really want to know the answers. There is some wisdom in that, I suppose. That attitude can certainly keep one from following some very painful paths, but it strikes me as a bit of “head in the sand.” The challenge is to seek, even when I might not particularly like the answers. My reaction to those answers might change over time though as I grow to understand and/or accept them. I’ve lived long enough to begin to realize that sometimes (not always, but many times) what seemed like a crushing blow turns out to be the very best thing that could happen. That horrible thing turns out to be so much better than the solution I would have suggested. At other times, the answer is immediately grand. And then there are times where the finding just creates the need for more seeking.
Seek and you shall find. Knock and that door will be opened. Be at peace and be brave and step through that door.
by | Feb 12, 2013 | poetry
Crossing O’Neal Bridge
the welcoming sign
filling up the words
“Coca Cola”
fill, flash, drain
fill, flash, drain
Welcome! You are approaching home…
“Coca Cola”
fill, flash, drain
It seemed a forever ride
in the big back seat
from Sheffield, Tuscumbia, Town Creek…
From Birmingham and parts unknown
O’Neal Bridge is dated
and the river crossing replaced for many by
the Patton Island Bridge just upstream
The Coca Cola Bottling Plant
no longer graces the crest of the first hill
welcoming visitors with its filling and draining sign
And yet, to cross the Tennessee River, headed north
at times still feels a lot like
Homecoming.
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” to ” And with your Spirit”, and no longer using “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.” 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.
