Goose Peek-a-boo

In the past ten days I have been blessed with an abundance of meaningful work.  It started on Ash Wednesday when I preached and celebrated the early morning service, spent some time at SpiritWorks, imposed ashes for a couple of hours in the Bruton Chapel, and assisted with the evening service.  The next morning I helped make a presentation on behalf of SpiritWorks and made several pastoral care visits.  That weekend I co-facilitated the Bruton Women's Lenten Retreat.  Tuesday I had the early morning service and the nursing home service and more pastoral visits plus the afternoon at SpiritWorks.  Wednesday was a relatively normal work day except for a visit to court to support a friend.  Thursday saw pastoral care visits and planning and presenting the evening Lent forum talk on Contemplative Prayer.  Yesterday I led a Women's Retreat in Norfolk on story telling.

Whew!  By yesterday afternoon, when I had made the drive back to Williamsburg, I was a walking zombie.  I laid down on the couch for "just a few minutes" before heading to dinner with Jan, and conked out for a half hour.  Following a rich dinner with homemade coconut chocolate chip pecan ice cream for dessert, I decided to walk the labyrinth just to stretch my legs a bit and to wrap up the intense few days.

Once at the labyrinth, I started slowly onto the path, trying to release the work I had done, and thanking God for all the things going well.  About a quarter of the way through the walk in, I felt agitated with exhaustion.  I don't want to do this, I thought.  I just want to go home.  I also had to pee.  You can't quit before you get to the center.  If you want to stop then, fine, but you need to go at least that far.

So I kept walking, wondering if I could keep putting one foot in front of the other when all I wanted to do was lie down.  When I got to the center, I stood there.  Okay God.  My well is dry.  I need you to fill me back up, to restore me.  I've got nothing left.  As I stood there in the heart of the labyrinth, I heard some squawking and saw two Canadian geese flying west.  When they got close to the labyrinth, they turned and started heading straight toward me.  I ducked, though they probably wouldn't have hit me, but it looked like their flight path was lined up with my head.  As I ducked they veered slightly upward and flapped over to the grass on the north side of the labyrinth where they landed.

You're not funny, God.

My mood lightened, and I decided to take the path all the way back out, instead of crossing over the lines.  I knew it would take another ten to fifteen minutes, but I thought I could make it before I keeled over or my bladder burst.  My step was a little lighter on the way out, and my shoulders felt less slumped.  The sun was heading for the horizon, while streaks of clouds began to pinked.  Golden light illuminated the upper bare branches of the sycamore tree on the south side of the labyrinth.  I hunched a bit inside my coat as the chill air started me shivering.

Squawking began again, and I noticed the two geese had approached the labyrinth.  They waddled to the other side of the eighteen inch cinder block wall between the street and the labyrinth.  The wall obstructed the lower half of their bodies, but I could see their black heads with the white neck stripes above the wall.  As I made a turn in the path, I looked over and the geese were gone!  Where did they go?  Then their heads popped back up.  I giggled.  After the next turn, I only saw one head.  I stopped to watch.  As if they were participating in some synchronized goose choreography, their heads bobbed up and down in time.  I guessed they were looking for dinner but the black and white heads disappearing and reappearing from behind the low wall tickled me until I laughed out loud.  The geese stopped squawking and both turned their heads to look right at me.

"Yes, I'm laughing at you," I replied to their curious looks.  "But it's the gentlest, kindest sort of laughter."

As I walked, they continued their funny game of peek-a-boo until I saw only one head for some minutes.  When I left the labyrinth, I had to check to make sure the other one was still there.  I kept breaking out into laughter as I walked.  When I emerged, I felt refreshed and renewed from my laughter and the delight of the bobbing geese.

Climbing into my car, I lingered, looking west at the sky that had begun to burn orange above the small herd of deer munching their evening meal of grass.  The two geese remained between the labyrinth wall and the street, no longer interested in me but curiously searching the ground for whatever geese eat.

It was only later that I thought about the bobbing goose heads and wished I'd caught them on my camera.  On the other hand, I'm glad I didn't even think of it, too present in the moment to worry about capturing it for later.

View from the DSU Prayer Station: What is Lent?

Open door = strong blast of frigid air!

It's Lent, a good time for confession.  I need to confess that I had many uncharitable thoughts today at the prayer station:  every time a student held the doors open for a group of students to come through I thought unkind things in their direction.  I know it's the right thing to do, holding the door for another person, but they would just stand there forEVER as the 21 degree wind blew in, and all I could think was, "SHUT THE DOOR!"  Fortunately I only thought this and did not shout it at them, but at one point I looked up and both doors were standing wide open as a man carrying some flowers walked through the center.  I'm guessing he hit the button that is there for those in wheelchairs to push so that the doors will open automatically.  If he'd been in a wheelchair, I might have been more charitable, but I just looked at those doors, gateways to the frigid air, and thought, "SHUT THE DOOR!"

Those were my low moments today.  But my high was when a student who is part of another campus ministry group felt comfortable enough to come up, sit down in the cold, and ask me, "What is Lent?"  She had heard of it but didn't really know what it meant, and some of her friends had gone about campus yesterday with ashes on their foreheads and were talking about the things they were giving up for Lent and asking her what she was giving up.  Not understanding what Lent was, she wasn't sure how to participate.

David Student Union and Plaza with mound of snow

I am not one of those people who says that Lent is my favorite season.  I can't help it; I'm a resurrection, spring time flowers blooming, hope, joy, and new life kind of girl.  Nevertheless, I have always been keenly aware that it is only by dying that one gets to that new life, that you can't get to resurrection without the cross, and that a time of self-examination and repentance leading up to Holy Week is a good and blessed thing that makes Easter all the more joyful.  There are even years when I crave the greater simplicity of Lent.  So when the student asked me if I could explain how it related to Easter, I was delighted to oblige.

It might have been better if I could have observed some simplicity in my answer.  I have read so many blog posts about Lent and Ash Wednesday in the past few days that I was like a sitting fountain of information.  I hope I didn't overwhelm her.  I talked about Jesus' 40 days of fasting in the wilderness and the ancient Israelites wandering for in the wilderness.  I discussed what the ashes mean and how Sundays are always feast days.  I talked about giving up and taking on and letting go and above all choosing some sort of practice or discipline that is meaningful and draws one closer to God.  She asked questions and I gave answers.  I was so excited that I think I may have babbled on a bit.  But I was so excited!  Someone who had heard about Lent and wasn't quite sure what it all meant and wasn't scared to ask questions.  We even talked about Palm Sunday and how hard it was to imagine the crowds shifting from "Hosanna!" to "Crucify him!" 

I was grateful to be asked a question that I could answer with confidence.  And while we were talking, I didn't notice the cold!  We also had a new person show up for Eucharist today.  She's been wanting to come since last semester.  Unfortunately the prayer station sign has taken a beating in the strong winds and blew over for the second time today.  The small "How may I pray for you?" piece is starting to come apart.  I may need to take up wood working for Lent. 

All in all, a good day at the Prayer Station.  Maybe sitting in the cold will be my Lenten discipline - though I feel certain than a warm spring day in the Plaza would draw me closer to God!

Chapel in the snow