THE BLACK FOG LIFTED

I awoke feeling different this morning.  The blanket of depression no longer covered my head, weighing down my whole body.

Something had lifted from me.  I breathed in the lightness as I made my way from my bed to the bathroom.  I splashed water on my face with effortless ease, so different from the usual weight and lethargy of the past few weeks.  I breathed deeply of the cool air around me.  Even the air was lighter!

Anyone who has ever suffered with depression knows how very physical is its manifestation in the body.   It also affects the mind and the emotions.  Everything seems to be colored black and weighed down. 

For weeks now I've grieved multiple losses:  a brother, a neighbor, a full-time job, and a good friend in Nashville who was my age when she died a couple of weeks ago.  So much in my life has changed in a short period of time.  Then the coronavirus pandemic hit, forcing all of us into social isolation and fear of what the future might hold.  Everywhere I go people are gripped in fear and uncertainty.  No hugs are allowed.

Without hugs and alone, is it any wonder the depression settled over me like a black fog?

As the weeks progressed, the depression deepened.  It felt like a blanket had descended over me  The blanket weighed me down and made the air all around me feel stagnant.  It zapped all my energies.  Just putting one foot in front of the other was an effort.  My whole body ached and my joints seemed inflamed.  Even walking was painful.  It felt like I was dragging around a ball and chain.

But this morning the ball and chain is gone.

Do I dare hope that the depression has lifted?  Will not return?

It has held me in its grip for weeks.  When I quit my job, I resumed teaching Qi Gong to my neighbors at Canterbury House in the early morning every day.  What a blessing!  Although it required a great effort, this daily routine was extremely important, as was being with others who are committed to their health.  But last week our executive director curtailed all activities in our building due to the pandemic.  Now there was no reason to get out of bed in the morning.  Besides, everything I did took so much effort and exhausted me.

Needless to say, I did not want to feel this way. I sometimes forced myself to shower and dress, thinking that's all I needed to do in order to feel better.  It didn't work.  All it did was to drain me.  When I walked outside to get fresh air and sunshine, I felt heavy, weighed down, encumbered.  I could hardly wait to get back to my bed so I could lie down and go to sleep.

Depression is very real.  When we are in its grip, we cannot "will" it away.  Neither can we fight it.
We can put up hard resistance to it, but it won't go away.  We can try to ignore it and go about our daily lives in spite of it.  This doesn't impress the depression one bit.  It doesn't budge.  I tried all these ways of coping with depression and found none of them helpful.

The only thing that helped me in that black fog was loving surrender.  Being gentle and loving with myself.  Acknowledgement of what was going on in my body and mind. Acknowledgement of what I needed.  Acknowledgement of the depression and its right to be.  Letting go of all struggle.  Going deeper into love and acceptance of myself.  Surrender.

It also helped to be with friends who would simply listen with love in their eyes.  The fewer words, the better.

Depression is.  It comes and goes.  It is connected to loss and grief.  It has a wisdom of its own and a life of its own.

Today I'm grateful that I have the energy to go to Colonial Lake for a walk and to do a routine of Qi Gong and a sit of meditation.  The pink roses are in bloom and so lifted my spirit with their cheerful beauty.

This posting is dedicated to everyone who has ever suffered depression and knows what it feels like when that black fog lifts, even for a day.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I am grateful for today. 

We are all connected and I send each of you my deepest love.

Pink roses at Colonial Lake in Charleston
March 31, 2020

SHAME, I SERVE YOU NOTICE!

From this day forth, I intend to write from the bones.   This is my doorway to freedom and I'm stepping through it today!

My hope is that this blog will find its readership among others who are committed to integration of body, soul, and spirit.  I'm willing to share my insights and struggles on the way.

I will share with you, my readers, my struggle with shame and low self esteem that has kept the scared, vulnerable part of me barricaded in a dark, secret hole for most of my life with two demons on either side of me, standing watch with angry eyes.  I stepped out of that hole this morning.

It's been a good day, a liberating day!  I released wave after wave of shame that was stored in my body as I stood in the light and allowed love to wash over me.

I allowed Love to hold me in her embrace for a long period of time.  I let go of what I held in that hole and let the Light have it. 

I also faced what has been going on in my life over the past month or so that has shrouded me in depression.   I wrote about it and will share "A Tale of Two Men" with you.

Shame, I serve you notice.  Your grip on me is over!

Greenview Road, Sewanee, TN in winter

A TALE OF TWO MEN

On Valentine's Day 2020 I lost two men I love.

My brother, Joe, only 15 months younger than I, died early that evening.  His daughter, Kelly, notified me about his death although I had not heard from either of them for years.  She said Joe had been in declining health and that his death was a blessed relief.  I felt immeasurably sad for all the years he and I did not communicate after our mother's death.  This was his choice, not mine, fueled by his addiction to drugs.  In response to my question about a funeral, Kelly announced that he would be cremated and his ashes released this spring at his favorite fishing hole at the beach.

The other man did not die, but he is lost to me nonetheless.   

Billy and I had been inseparable for months prior to his leaving Canterbury House. I made breakfast for him before I left for work; he was often waiting for me in the parking lot when I arrived home in the late afternoon. I cooked supper for both of us and listened to him talk about his day.  Because of his dementia, our wise and watchful executive director, Sally, felt he could no longer live alone.  Billy was having more and more difficulty finding his way back to his apartment.  Sally asked his brother, Fred, and nephew, John, to move him out of his apartment by the first of February.  His neurologist confirmed that he needed specialized care and recommended he go into an assisted living facility with a memory care unit.  We all knew this was best for Billy and came together as a team to help him make a hard transition.

Toward the end of January, his brother, Fred, took Billy to a motel room in Mount Pleasant and stayed with him as they waited for a room to open up in assisted living.

Three weeks into their stay at the motel, on Valentine's Day, Billy exploded in anger and physically attacked his brother.  When Nancy, Fred's girlfriend, arrived to take them to lunch, she ended up taking Fred to the ER where he was placed in Intensive Care with bleeding on his brain. The hospital transported Billy by ambulance to a locked ward in a hospital in Hilton Head where he could be evaluated.  Only Fred, his guardian, can to talk to him in the hospital.   

How quickly everything can change!  My heart and body has grieved the loss of both of these men over the past month.

Fairy tales have happy endings.  Real life is often tragic.

Please send Billy warm wishes and prayers that he be placed in an appropriate facility.   Pray that Joe's soul rest in peace.  Pray that I will release each of them in love.

Winter sunset in my backyard, Cowan, TN

Made For Endless Horizons

Life and death are not two, but one.  There is a dying that takes place in each moment as we live in authenticity, a simultaneous letting go and embracing.

OPEN PALMS - as I let go, I receive, a “both/and,” not an “either or.”  Our open palms are the perfect symbol for this paradox.

In the gospel of Mark, it is recorded that, after the resurrection of Jesus,  the angel told the women not to be afraid, but they fled, frightened out of their wits!

Miracles and resurrection are easy to deny and to block.

We still run from and deny resurrection, don’t we?  Our minds are often made up that the dead can’t come back to life, that not even God can breath life back into a lifeless body or a lifeless situation.

Our minds like logic and certainty.  Black and white.  Possible and impossible.

Yet we are made for transcendence and endless horizons!

We are made to appreciate the beauty of the swirling clouds and to burst into tears at the colors of the sunrise when we awaken.

We are made by Love, for Love.  We are made by Beauty, for Beauty.  We are made by Truth, for Truth.

We are made to live in this moment where time does not exist, in resurrection power, where miracles are commonplace!

Folly Beach, SC 

What is a Community Pastor?

A few days ago my beloved pastor proclaimed someone, “Community Pastor.”  I’d never heard this term before.  It was both intriguing and, quite frankly, a little puzzling.

What exactly is a community pastor?

As I write this, I trust the wisdom within me as a guide to open up whatever God wants to reveal about this call and how it manifests itself.

Wisdom reveals that call is broader than a local congregation.  How much broader depends on a number of factors.  Surely the call of a community pastor is interdenominational and perhaps even interfaith.  Cool!  That means religious affiliation would mean little to a community pastor.  She would be as comfortable with an Assemblies of God pastor as she is with an Episcopal priest.  She would be at home worshipping in any type of church, from Baptist to Church of God.  She would also be comfortable with Jewish, as well as Muslim believers and find common ground with each of them.

To this kind of love, my heart opens with a great big, "YES!"

A community pastor could gather people for prayer across denominational lines.  How cool is that?

What specific ministry might a community pastor do?

Understanding the power of interdenominational prayer, she organizes regular prayer gatherings for all believers.  She prays for the people in her community, all pastors, all churches, all people of faith, and all who are hurting.  She cares deeply for the homeless and poor in her community.  She also cares about the land itself and all the animals who live on it.  They are all daily in her prayers.

A community pastor provides the opportunity weekly for interdenominational believers to come together to pray.  She has experienced firsthand the miracles that flow from these times of prayer so she is intentional about holding this space even when others don't show up to pray with her.

When storms are approaching, a community pastor goes into action, praying for the protection of the entire area:  the land, buildings, trees, shrubs, animals, and people.  She cares deeply about the health and well being of the entire community.

What ministry of presence might God anoint a community pastor?

During the stressful period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, God sends her out on a “smile ministry.”   Calm and prayerful she ventures forth empowered by the Holy Spirit to comfort troubled souls.  Everywhere she goes she looks each person in the eye, nods, and smiles.  She experiences firsthand how the simplicity of a look and smile ministers deeply to people.  When people want to talk, she takes the time to listen.  She understands that people will sometimes empty out all their troubles on a compassionate stranger.  It is cathartic and healing.  She listens without judgement.

A community pastor has a vibrant neighborhood ministry.  She loves her neighbors as herself.  She regularly checks in with her neighbors to find out how they are doing.  She organizes regular neighborhood prayer gatherings so her neighbors can come together to share their burdens and to pray for each other.  She herself prays for the sick with the laying on of hands.  She takes food and gifts to her neighbors as a way to bring encouragement and comfort.

In every word she utters in her neighborhood and in her community, she points the way to the One who created us all and who loves us with an abiding, unconditional love.  All her conversations are centered in her love of and deep trust in God.  Every conversation points the way to Him.

This is work I’ve been doing for many years, but without specific intent or purpose. This seems to be the time God wants to deepen the call in me.  I can’t wait to see how this ministry unfolds in the years ahead!

Thanks to all who read these words and know that God calls each of us to work that can only be done by yielding to the Holy Spirit and that our work is deepened over time and accomplishes more than we can dream or imagine.  This is God at work through yielded vessels bringing light to darkness.  None of us deserve the blessed privilege of carrying God's light.  It is shocking and wonderful and bigger than we are!  

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Sunset on Folly Beach in Winter

Maundy Thursday

Tonight is an important night to all of us who love Jesus.  Called Maundy Thursday, it is the night in which we remember our Lord's last hours with his disciples before He was arrested and crucified.   

Christians throughout the world have gathered to remember.  I was invited to celebrate this night in a beautiful cathedral on the campus of The University of the South in Sewanee.  The moon is full overhead on a cold and windy night.  My heart is open and expectant. 

Sitting next to me is the Vice Chancellor of the University and his wife.  We are surrounded by people young and old, black, white, and brown.  Among us are students, faculty, business people, professionals, artists, and retired people from our community.  How fitting that people of every age have gathered here to show our respects to Jesus!

On this night 2,000 years ago, Jesus and His disciples are observing Passover, a night when all Jews are commanded to celebrate the memorial of their redemption from Egyptian bondage.  As a matter of fact, God has commanded them to observe this rite forever.

Jesus' love for His disciples shines brightly on this night, even on the one who will betray Him.  As they begin to eat the Passover meal, Jesus seems to hand Judas the "first sup," which in Jewish tradition is given to the guest of honor.  Judas then leaves the meal to go to Jesus' enemies where he betrays Him for thirty pieces of silver.

During the Passover meal, Jesus tells His disciples when He breaks the bread, "This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me."  In the same way, He takes the cup of wine saying, "This is the new covenant in My blood; do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me."

"For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes."

The night to remember for all generations, the Passover, has now become a night to remember the Passover Lamb, Jesus.

After supper, Jesus lays aside His garments and taking a towel, He girds Himself and pours water into a basin.  He begins to wash His disciples feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which He is girded.

Jesus takes on the role of a slave and encourages His disciples to take on this role as well.

Then Jesus goes to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray.  He asks His disciples to keep watch with Him but they are too tired and succumb to slumber.

Jesus prays a poignant prayer to our Father.  He asks that our Father make us one as He and the Father are One.  He also asks that if it is possible, for this cup to pass from Him.  As a prophet, He knows full well what is about to happen.  Sweat, like great drops of blood fall from his forehead as He travails.  His time has come. 

On this night we remember for all generations the one who gave His all for us.  None of us are deserving of so great a gift. 

Oh, how I love Jesus!  Worthy is the Lamb who was slain!  King of kings and Lord of lords! 

Radical Hospitality in Honor of St. Brigid

On the Feast Day of St. Brigid (February 1), I and other guests were treated to radical hospitality by our hosts.  This is fitting since Brigid, patron saint of Ireland, exemplified the gift of hospitality.

Brigid and other Celtic Christians equated offering hospitality to receiving Christ into their midst and fulfilling the law of love.   As a child, Brigid often gave away her parents' possessions.  At Kildare, the monastery she founded and led, she often made butter for visitors.

In the spirit of Brigid, our hosts invited us into their warm, lovely home, nestled deep in the woods and treated us to a dinner of lamb and delectable homemade food, including bread and butter, all lovingly prepared and served with Brigid in mind. God encircled all of us in love as we broke bread together.

What was most remarkable about our dinner party, for me, is the way prayer took center stage.

Our evening began as most dinner parties do with excited conversation over luscious appetizers and wine. However, when our host asked if we'd like to make a St. Brigid cross to take home with us, we got our first inkling that this was not going to be an ordinary dinner party.  With instructions from our host, we each made a St. Brigid cross from pipe cleaners to take home.    

Then the prayers begin.  Our host had thoughtfully typed them and put them into a beautiful booklet which he presented to each of us.  Our first prayer asked God to unite us as we prayed in unison three times.  Then we lit a candle and went to the back door and opened it as we said goodbye to the season of Samhain (winter). Together we prayed a beautiful prayer in gratitude for the season of deep memory (winter).  "Go with thanks and go with blessing."

Then we walked to the threshold of the front door and opened the door.  There we prayed in welcome of spring.  "In cold and darkness, you are traveling; in warmth and brightness you will arrive.  May the blessed time of Imbolc (spring) kindle the soul of all beings."

Casting the Cairn

Then we gathered at the dining table and "cast the cairn," a technique used by Celtic Christians of old in drawing an invisible circle around us.  We asked God to encircle us with hope, protection, peace, and light.

Reader:  Encircle us, Lord
All:         Keep hope within, Keep doubt without
Reader:  Encircle us, Lord
All:         Keep peace within, Keep evil out

Prayer for Coming of Spring 

There were beautiful prayers rejoicing in the promise of Spring.

"For the lengthening days and sunlight's warmth upon the soil, we rejoice in the promise of Spring.

For the cycle of life which brings death and rebirth, we rejoice in the promise of Spring."

Our evening ended with this benediction:

Leader:  As we receive the blessing of this feast with thanks
All:         So, too, may we be a blessing to others.

My heart rejoices that our dinner party was more than good fellowship.  It was a spiritual celebration.  Why shouldn't Christian people come together in each other's homes to celebrate God's goodness and to remember saints of old?  Why shouldn't prayer be central to our gatherings?

Because St. Brigid was so honored in our celebration, the Holy Spirit encircled us in love and joy.   It was a radical celebration of all that is good and true and lovely!  

A Celtic Blessing:

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining starts to you.
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.
               Amen.