Morning Prayer - Finding the Way

Church happened at St. Stephen's today because the rector can walk from his house.  He told me not to come, though, and I was fine with that.  I'm from south of Atlanta.  I am a southerner.  I do not know how to drive in the snow.  Three years in Chicago didn't teach me because the roads are plowed there, so I still didn't learn how.  When they tell me to stay off the roads, I obey.  I don't want to be a hazard.  So many people online reported reading Morning Prayer in place of going to church this morning, so I joined in.  Sitting snug in my house with the welcome sunlight streaming in. I prayed through the office, read a bit of Diana Butler Bass' Grounded, and then headed out for outdoor worship in the Creation. 

It was almost too bright to see, but I didn't want to head back in for sunglasses.  I walked around my house and then headed out into the neighborhood.  There is a pond in the back of the Mews, and I wanted to see if it was frozen.  Half way.  I was making new tracks on the path that goes around the pond - though I felt a little guilty at disturbing the smooth blanket of white.  I was surprised at how few people were out and how few birds I saw.  It looked like someone had been out walking a dog on parts of the path, but other than that, I was the pioneer.  The surface of the snow glittered in the sun, and ice cracked under my feet as I went.  Sometimes I was light enough not to break through the layer of ice, but in other places I crashed through, and my boots sunk inches deeper into slush.  Snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain, sleet, snow.  That's what had happened in the past 48 hours, and I could feel each of the layers as I walked.

When I got to the front of my neighborhood, I decided to head for the labyrinth.  Again I was surprised that no one had been out on the sidewalk I take to Eastern State Hospital.  With the sun reflecting off the snow and the wind at my back, it wasn't long before I pulled my hood down, unzipped my coat, and removed my gloves.  Though it was only 27 degrees, I was hot!  The road was reasonably clear, though slushy at intersections.  On the hospital grounds the road was wet with no slush at all.  Someone had plowed well.

The labyrinth looked very different than it had when I was there at the beginning of the storm.  I could barely see the path at all. Animal tracks cris-crossed diagonally over sections of the labyrinth.  I thought maybe they were from deer, but closer inspection looked more like paw than hoof tracks.  Dog?  Raccoon?  Fox?  I have no idea.  Whoever it was didn't feel a need to stay on the path but scampered across to the other side.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to step out onto the smooth surface, but once I was there, I couldn't resist. 

With the first step I heard the ice under my feet.  I was surprised that my boots didn't sink any further into the snow but there seemed to be a thick layer of ice that cracked with almost every step on my way to the center.  Felt kind of like walking across a frozen lake, only fortunately I didn't fall in.  After the first turn, I froze.  I couldn't see the path, and I didn't know where to go.  I took a guess, but I found myself stopping regularly on the way.  When I looked at the labyrinth facing north, I could just distinguish the path, but when I looked into the sun, I couldn't see any markings in the snow.  If I hadn't walked that labyrinth so many times, I wouldn't have stood a chance.  I guess that's why they call it a spiritual practice.  By doing it over and over, we learn the way.

Still, there were many times when I had to stop and observe for awhile.  At one point I felt like I could hear Obi Wan saying, "Use the force, Luke!"  It was very different to be forging a new path and having trouble finding the way when usually a labyrinth is so clear.  It would have been very easy to get lost.  At one point the snow was so smooth that I went a little too far and walked up on top of one of the bricks, but I realized my mistake and turned back to the path.  When I got to the center I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had made it all the way in without having to backtrack.  I turned slowly in the center, feeling a pull to the west.  "I am going to the west..."  The haunting notes of one of the songs from my Faire Celts CD ran through my head.  It was hard to look south because the sun was so bright. When I turned east, I said a prayer of blessing over the Eastern State buildings, as I often do. 
 
Heading back out, I walked in my own footsteps.  Much easier to find the way.  No cracking of the ice this direction, though.  Instead, stepping in my boot tracks, I went much deeper into the snow, often down into wet slushiness.  I guess the sun was melting the places where I had walked. It was a much faster trip out since I no longer had to pause at each turn and discern the way forward.  I smiled at the end.  I did it!  If anyone else wants to walk it in the snow, they will know the way now.  These footsteps will not disappear as quickly as the last, though in time the snow will melt and the concrete and paving bricks will emerge once more.

Friday's walk was about letting go.  Today's walk was about new beginnings.  Forging a path.  Finding a way.  We don't always know which direction to turn, but we wait and watch and listen, asking God to point us forward.  Sometimes we just stand for a bit, being faithful, until the way gets clear or until we take that step and see - is this the way?  We may need to double back or retrace steps, but we will eventually find the way.  It can be slow going, and it's hard not to panic when you cannot see the way, even harder to step out in faith when you're not certain, but each step leads you closer to the center until you find yourself resting in the presence of God.

Footsteps in the Snow

 I knew yesterday would be a snow day.  They've been predicting it for a week.  I allowed myself to sleep in, and then puttered around the house.  When I saw the first snowflakes, I threw on some clothes and headed to the grocery store to pick up a few items.  I was happy to see plenty of milk and bread, although I didn't need them.  By the time I started home, the snow was really coming down and starting to stick on the roads.  My neighborhood streets still had snow on them from last Sunday, so they were rapidly disappearing under a white blanket.  With the prediction of sleet and rain to follow the snowfall, I knew that getting out later on would probably be unpleasant, so I decided to walk over to the labyrinth before the snow got too bad.  I like walking in the snow, if it's not too windy.  The snow muffles everything and brings a sense of peace.  Bundled up in my down jacket with purple scarf wrapped around my neck and mouth, a fleece headband covering my ears. and my hood pulled up to protect my head, I felt cocooned in warmth, at least until the snow started melting on my scarf dampening it with cold moisture.  The tiny, light snowflakes easily brushed off my coat and gloves, though they were accumulating quickly on grass and sidewalk alike. 

When I got to the labyrinth, I saw a light coating of snow on the path and paving stones.  I hesitated to mar the pristine surface with my footsteps.  Pausing at the entrance I said a prayer for CNU, for discernment, for guidance.  And then I began walking.  It was hard to tell which direction the snow was coming from, but at times I turned right into it and got a face full of cold wetness.  I was glad I wore my hiking boots because my steps were sure, and I did not slip at all.  Plus, my feet were warm in a way that they wouldn't have been in my running shoes that are intentionally designed to allow my feet to breathe.  Good in summer but the feature that allows the heat out also allows the cold and damp in. 

Once in the center I could see that my footsteps closer to the entrance were already fading under the falling snow.  I didn't spend as much time as usual in the center though I did turn to face each of the four directions as is my custom.  On my journey back out, I walked in my own footsteps so as not to disturb any of the rest of the snow.  By the time I reached the opening, my earlier footsteps had completely disappeared both from the path and from the sidewalk leading to the labyrinth.  We leave our mark, and then it fades away.  How ephemeral our lives are. 
Psalm 103 says,
   "Our days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the field;
   When the wind goes over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more."  (15-16)
So too with our footsteps in the snow.  On my way back home, the snow was already much deeper.  More people had been out walking and even bicycling in the snow, but my tracks had been obliterated.

I know, though, that I was there.   And now, others do, too.  My footsteps may be buried beneath the snow, but they are there, marking my path to the center and back.  I wonder if part of my yearning to write is about leaving footsteps that will remain.  All this snow makes me reflective. Perhaps watching my footsteps disappear in the snow is a good lesson in letting go.  One that has always been hard for me.  I could have sung Elsa's theme song from Frozen when I was in the center.  "Let it go, let it go."  Please help me in the letting go, God.

Free Stuff on a Cold Day

Brrr!  It's a high of 36 in Newport News today, and I knew it was too cold to sit outside.  But I have to say, at least there was sun outside.  I went to my usual indoor spot in the Student Union and tables were set up for other groups, so I sat inside the rotunda doors.  Each time the doors opened, frigid air blasted in, numbing my ears and feet and hands.  Fortunately a steady stream of students visited the prayer station, so the cold was much more easy to endure.  Though my location was unfortunate in terms of personal physical warmth, it was the perfect place for encountering students.  About 12:15 students get out of class and head for lunch.  I didn't realize that the line for lunch reaches to the doors of the rotunda, but there I sat with the lunch line filing right past me.  "Bless the lunch line.  Bless the lunch line."  I prayed blessings over the students as they waited for lunch.  Some spoke.  Many smiled.  Others were clearly focused on lunch.  If you feed them, they will come!  It was great to see so many young people walking by.

One of the ECM students brought his roommate and a new hallmate by the station.  Turns out the hallmate was raised Episcopalian and wants to start coming to church.  I love when the students evangelize.  She was wearing a light sweatshirt and no coat, shivering as we chatted, and we all commented that it might be good to wear a coat. She said that the sweatshirt was a gift from a boyfriend and a friend and that it smells like them.  I suggested she was receiving emotional warmth if not physical warmth from the shirt.  She said yes, that it was emotional comfort for her.  We all agreed maybe she could wear a heavier coat over the sweatshirt as a way to provide both for both physical and emotional needs.

The roommate is an ROTC student, and so I learned all about the officer training program and what is involved.  It was a really cool conversation.  I also learned that Cards Against Humanity ("adult Apples to Apples") can keep college students up until the wee hours of the morning and that as a priest I would not be invited to play what they described as an "irreverent, offensive" game.  I doubt it could be more irreverent or offensive than some games played when I was in college, but I wouldn't have wanted my priest around for those either.  ;)  They chatted for about half an hour before heading off to Spanish, English, and Economics classes.

Today was like old home day at the station.  I saw so many of the students who have come to talk or pray with me.  The Humans of CNU guy greeted me and said he was going to come back to chat when he has more time on another Thursday.  Another person invited me to come to CNU Tonight in a couple of weeks.  One girl in a sorority jersey stopped by to tell me she was glad I had moved inside, that she knew it was Thursday and had been worried I would be sitting out in the cold.  Another student stopped by and said he wasn't religious but that he's a religious studies major and he wanted to thank me for being there, that it was meaningful to him to see me sitting there even though he didn't have a prayer request.  Interested in the Abrahamic religions that he described as "beautiful," he wants to be a religious studies professor.  Two other students I know are graduating this semester and are planning to start their own clothing company together.  I learned today that they want to design men's blazers and coats and trousers.  They're so excited!  I told one of them that I would pray for the start of their business.

I shared the rotunda area with members from the student assembly.  They were passing out free cups and frisbees with information about student assembly.  I went up and asked what the free cups were for.  The student said, "You have to give them free stuff, and then they get interested."

You have to give them free stuff.  I reflected on whether I should be handing out something at the prayer station.  But in truth, they do get free stuff.  It might not be a cup or frisbee, but I hope what they receive gets them interested.  A listening ear, a prayer or blessing, a smile, eye contact, a wave.  I hope that, at least for a moment. they feel the warmth of being loved and that it comforts them on a cold day. 

Walkin' in a Wintry Labyrinth

About a month ago I decided to take on the practice of walking the labyrinth at least once a week.  So far I have been faithful and have even managed to do it twice on most weeks.  It helps that there is a labyrinth about 5 minutes from my house over on the campus of Eastern State Mental Hospital.  A couple of weeks ago on a day that was particularly sad for me, my therapist strongly encouraged me to get outside and walk.  Though rain was expected he told me that the worst thing that could happen was that I would get wet.  He sad it was good if it was cold and windy because it would help me remember that I am robust and will not melt with a little rain or disappear with a little wind.  His encouragement led me to start walking from my house to the labyrinth.  On the way over and back, I get good exercise, and while I'm there I get to walk the labyrinth.  I have grown particularly fond of doing this at sunset.  And I have not let wind or rain or cold stop me.

Yesterday it occurred to me that it might be cool to see the labyrinth in the snow, though I was afraid that the snow might have obscured the path.  So I drove over and found that the snow was raised just enough over the brick outline that the path was visible.  I didn't have time to stop and walk, but I decided that I would come back tonight at sunset.  It was 18 degrees, dropping tonight to 9.  I tried to park my car in my usual spot right next to the labyrinth, but I realized the snow was deeper than I had thought and that I would probably get stuck.  So I drove a little distance and found a parking space that had been plowed.  I was bundled in many layers, and I pulled the hood of my down coat up over my head and put on my gloves as I got out of the car.

My therapist's challenge has led me to taking walks in 20 degrees, trying to befriend winter instead of huddling miserably inside waiting for spring.  Most of the time I have found that walking briskly warms me up and under my layers I even start sweating.  Not tonight.  Even with my hiking boots and two pairs of socks, my feet got cold quickly. There was a layer of snow over ice, so with each step the ground felt like it was cracking under my weight.  I was not the first person who had been there, but the previous tracks were old and had been covered by fresh snow.  Crunch, crack, crunch, I went around and around.  Sometimes it was hard to see the path, but mostly I could find it.  I kept thinking about how I always find it difficult to feel close to God in the winter.  It's so easy in the spring with new life bursting out all over, but in the winter I just feel depressed.  I asked God to be with me in the cold, but mostly I concentrated on the sound of the crunching under my feet.

As I made a turn I noticed that the sinking sun had begun to illuminate portions of the labyrinth.  It was magical.  I laughed out loud with delight and immediately grabbed my phone to try to capture the moment.  Such beauty.  The snow sparkled and glittered, and the setting sun cast a glow that started out golden and then turned rosy.  I kept walking until I got to the center where I turned to face the setting sun.  I sang the first verse of "In the Bleak Midwinter" but couldn't remember all the words.  It was so very cold; my breath steamed through the purple fleece scarf that covered my mouth.  It was so very lovely, snow and path and light.  By the time I left the center, after having turned to each of the four directions, the sun's glow had left the labyrinth.  No more magic light.  My feet were really starting to hurt with the cold.  I thought about the people who have to stay outside tonight and said a prayer that they might find warmth.  It took me over an hour to warm up once I got back home.  I can't imagine having to stay out in that all night.

I am so grateful for the walk tonight.  I have walked labyrinths all over the country, but I've never walked one in the snow.  It was a gift of winter.  Seems like I've had a few of those this year as I try to embrace this season that has for so long been my nemesis.  Normally this time of year I just feel small and huddled, but the picture I took below shows a very tall me.  Brené Brown has a mantra, "Show up and let myself be seen."  I'm trying to learn to do just that. 

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

Deep Breath - Snow Break

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the day that marks the beginning of the season of Lent.  Today is Shrove Tuesday, traditionally celebrated with the "Feast of Pancakes" or other rich and fatty foods, a sort of celebration or "get rid of the sweets and fat" ritual before the fasting that begins the next day.  But tonight, churches all over Hampton Roads have canceled their pancake suppers due to unsafe road conditions.  Facebook indicates that many are grieving the loss.  Since it is Shrove Tuesday, I have a confession to make.  I don't really like pancakes.  They're okay, and I eat them when I have to, but they're really not my thing.  Now if was Waffle Supper, I might be feeling the loss, but pancake supper, well, I can take it or leave it.  (Sorry pancake grievers!)

The truth is that having a snow day on the day before Ash Wednesday feels like taking a deep breath right before Lent begins.  I slept late, took time for meditation, spiritual reading, and journaling, and then I headed out for a walk in the snow.  Time with God in the creation.  Though I don't love winter, there is something very special about walking in the snow after it has just fallen.  With the sun out, the snow glittered and sparkled.  I went slowly, partly because it was difficult to walk, cutting the first tracks through the snow, but also because I was trying to pay attention to what I was seeing, to breathe deeply and notice the world around me, to inhabit my body and get out of my head just a bit.  As I walked through the neighborhood I saw that very few people had been out.  I was the first to venture down to the iced over pond at the back of the neighborhood and the first to walk around it.  I almost didn't go because I didn't want to mess up the pristine snow with my tracks, but it was so beautiful, I couldn't help myself.  A few tiny bird tracks appeared along the side of the path, but otherwise there was no evidence of other living creatures.  It wasn't quiet like I remember from walking in the snow in my childhood - too many sounds from nearby roads, probably snow plows and other equipment.  Still, it was crisp and cold and full of beauty.

As I headed back up the hill I bumped into a friend I haven't seen in a long time walking her dogs, Bella and Rugby.  They were adorable as they romped in the snow.  My friend offered to let me use her snow shovel, so I wandered back to her house to pick it up.  We chatted a bit and then I got to work shoveling out my driveway.  Fortunately the snow hadn't packed down yet and was still light enough to remove with ease, though I am unaccustomed to the work and will have sore shoulders, I'm sure.  I worked up a sweat.  31 degrees in the sun felt warm after my long walk yesterday in 18 degrees.  When I returned the shovel, I was invited in for a cup of tea and some conversation.  When do I ever have time for that?  It was lovely to sit and chat and sip some spicy pumpkin tea with my friends while Rugby tried to chew my hand and jump in my lap.  

In the afternoon I made an early dinner to share with Jan, and we made plans for upcoming meetings.  It was all very relaxed.  Now I know that I could have filled this time with a million things I need to do: cleaning, sermon prep, various work projects, taxes, did I mention cleaning?  Instead I just tried to be present to the gift of the day, to breathe and ignore the occasional moments of anxiety and head chatter that said, "You need to make the most of this time.  You need to get stuff done!"  In my journal this morning I wrote, "There is enough time."  What if I believed that every day?  

There are many things I can do to honor the season of Lent that starts tomorrow.  Maybe one is to practice being present and telling myself that there is enough time, to talk back to the voices in my head that say there will never be enough, and to take time just to be with God.  Taking a deep breath before the season starts feels good and right.  Snow interrupts my life like Jesus does; often in inconvenient ways.  And yet, there is also an invitation.  Stop.  Look.  Listen.  Be. 

View from the DSU Prayer Station: Entertaining Angels

Today at Eucharist in the chapel we celebrated Andrei Rublev, the Russian monk and iconographer from the 1400's. His icon of the Trinity is my favorite.  Rublev based this icon on an earlier one called, "Hospitality of Abraham," depicting Abraham's hospitality to the three strangers/angels at the oaks of Mamre in Genesis 18. The original includes Abraham and Sarah offering food and drink to the three who may have been the Trinity.  In Rublev's icon there is a space in the front, almost as if the three are inviting the viewer to the table with them.  Who is offering hospitality to whom?  Before Eucharist today, a man came in looking for help.  He is a refugee from Israel/Palestine and has been brought here to be an Arabic translator.  But the process of getting him into housing and food stamps and all the needed services is slow, and he needed help getting kosher food for his family.  This is not something I am set up to do at the CNU chapel 15 minutes before a service.  So I called over to St. Stephen's, and they were able to help him there.

Earlier in the afternoon I had arrived on campus running late and in low spirits.  Each Thursday I try to get to the chapel prior to noon so that I can get my sign out of its storage space before the Catholic Campus Ministry Mass starts.  As I was behind my time, they were already setting up.  I darted in and tried to get the sign out quickly so as not to be in the way.  One of the CCM students saw me struggling a bit with carrying the sign and came out and offered to carry it for me.  He chatted with me and carried it all the way to my spot in the DSU.  He said it was a great sign and he didn't want it to get banged up.  He had appreciated seeing it on Thursdays. 

Who is offering hospitality to whom?  I didn't have any prayer requests today, but I did have a number of people drop by to say hello and chat for a minute.  As I sit and offer prayer to the campus, the campus welcomes me into its midst.  It seems that we bless each other.  CNU's vice president, a parishioner at Bruton Parish stopped by today and said he hoped to make it to Eucharist one Thursday.  I have had exchanges with several of the staff as well, and today I enjoyed catching up with a couple of them.  The lady who takes the money in the lunch area was having a birthday. 

It was so cold today that I stayed inside, though the drafts from the doors were tough to take.  Towards the end of my time I found that I couldn't stop shivering.  I picked up some hot Chick-fil-a nuggets and fries and then stopped in to see my friend in the Admissions Office.  She is the perfect person to have in an Admissions Office.  So warm and full of life, bubbling over with joy.  I basked in her smile and bright energy as the heat in the office stopped my shivering.  She had come up to me after I had been introduced at the Trible's campus ministry dessert event and asked if I would pray for staff, too.  Of course.  I look forward to seeing her each week whether she waves to me while I'm at the prayer station or whether I drop by the office to see how she's doing.

Who is offering hospitality to whom?  Who are the angels and who are the hosts?  Who are the strangers in need of a little kindness?  Today I felt like others were angels to me.  But I suspect some of them may have felt the same.  I have quoted this before, but I think it bears repeating, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it" (Hebrews 13:2.)  One of my hopes for the prayer station is that it would offer that hospitality, that invitation.  Just like Rublev's icon, inviting viewers to come a little closer and spend some time with the mystery.

View from the DSU Prayer Station - Is it spring yet?

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, baby, it's cold outside!  Brrrrr....  I'm sure my friends in northern climes will mock me, but it is COLD outside!  I did live in Chicago for 3 years, so I understand that those who are experiencing highs in the single digits may not have sympathy for me.  But it was 11 when I left my house this morning and is now 24 with a wind chill of 16.  Needless to say, the Plaza Prayer Station had to move inside.  I was disappointed, but there was no way around it.  Because the student union (DSU) at CNU has 3 entrances to the area where I was sitting, all of them with big doors directly to outside, it wasn't much warmer in there.  I wore coat, scarf, and gloves the whole time.  I couldn't even stay my whole 2 hours.  As a reward, now I am happily ensconced in a chair at the edge of Einstein's sitting in a sun beam and drinking a hot chai.  (But I still haven't taken off my coat!)

Being in the DSU was very different.  Much louder and more crowded.  Harder to concentrate on prayer.  Mostly I observed the many styles of coats and boots and was happy to see only one pair of shorts.  I though it appropriate for many reasons that I was able to find a spot right by Theatre CNU's advertisement for Into the Woods.  I couldn't always tell if people looking my way were looking at my sign or the ad for the show.  There were so many more people inside than I usually see in the Plaza, so I know that more people saw that I was there, though that didn't translate into more contacts.  Several people came by and said they were glad to see I had moved inside.  A few students who know me came up to say hi and exchange hugs.  It's nice to know more people this semester. 

I had to remind myself that although I know a few more people, I still have to reestablish myself and the prayer station.  Considering that on my first day last semester no one spoke to me, I would say today was significantly better.  The highlight was when a young woman came up and pointed to my sign and said, "Are you part of this."  When I said yes and introduced myself, she said, "I'm not even a student here.  I'm just in high school.  But this is so cool!"  She has already applied to CNU and was here today for a band workshop; she plays oboe.  She said she was wondering what the Christian community was like at CNU.  So I was able to tell her about the various flavors available.  She seemed so excited to see me and be on campus and to know that the prayer station is there.  "Can I have a hug?" she asked.  Of course I said yes, and I wished her luck as she bounced away.  Seems like CNU is a good fit for her from that exchange.

For those of you who follow this blog, I would ask for your prayers again this semester as I continue this ministry.  I can feel your prayer support each week, and I know it helps sustain me.  We will be doing a "Blessing of the Semester" service at 1:00 on Sunday which will be similar to a house blessing but with full Anglican procession, incense, and asperges.  We may have 5 or 25.  My prayer is that it will arouse curiosity and interest in who we are and what we're doing.  My prayer for the Plaza/DSU Prayer Station is that those in the CNU Community who need it may find it and that all who encounter it will feel the presence of God more deeply.  Into the woods of a new semester we go.  May God bless us all!

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Remember that saying, "Cold hands, warm heart"?  Well, it was definitely true today at the Plaza Prayer Station.  Forecast was for low 50's, overcast and 50% chance of rain.  Reality was mid 40's with a stiff breeze and cooling over the afternoon.  Fortunately the rain didn't start till much later in the day, but I didn't think it would be possible to sit outside in the cold air with no sun.  Talking with my rector this morning I mentioned that I needed fire to warm myself and the students.  Lo and behold, he has a very portable little propane heater that is perfect for the ministry.  So with renewed courage, I set out for the Plaza, feeling confident that my little heater would do the trick and I wouldn't have to move inside. 

With my fleece-lined flannel shirt, coat, and scarf on, and after carrying all my stuff out to the Plaza, I actually felt pretty warm, so I sat down and waited, pulling out my rosary.  I only got halfway through the Lord's Prayer before my first student popped by.  He told me that he loves knowing that I'm there and that when he came out of his lab today he said to himself, "Yep, she's here." He told me he was always going to drop by to say hi.  Warmed my heart!  Not long after another student walked by, read my sign, said, "Cool!" and then called back over her shoulder, "I'll be back."  "I'll be here," I answered, and she did come back later.  There were more "popcorn prayers" today as it was too cold for lengthy conversation, though one student got his lunch and we chatted while we both ate. 

It seemed like I saw more than the usual number of people today which surprised me because of the cold.  No skateboard dudes.  Not many people hanging out in the Plaza.  But people came over with purpose, either requesting prayers or thanking me for being there.  It was an hour and a half before I realized that my hands were like ice and it was time to turn on the little heater.  Alas!  The knob that turns on the gas had fallen off in my car, so I couldn't turn it on.  Though I was disappointed, at least I know I can use it on another day. 

Toward the end of my time a member of the staff came and sat down and asked me what this was all about.  Then he asked if there was anything I wanted prayer for and he prayed with me right there, just like I do with the students.  He's Baptist, so I'm guessing that extemporaneous prayer comes a little more easily for him.  I was grateful for the prayer. 

The whole afternoon filled my heart with warmth no matter how cold my hands got.  I had woken up in a bad mood, and though I have gotten better at trusting that God is going to provide for this ministry, I had thought that today I would have to move out of the Plaza, and I just didn't want to.  At one point a student came past and asked me if I wanted some tea or hot chocolate.  I did indeed, and about 20 minutes later he returned with a steaming cup of it.  While he was inside a flash mob-esque event happened right in front of me.  A young man ran up to a young woman and started singing "You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips..." a la Tom Cruise in Top Gun.  After the first line, about 15-20 young men came running over from all corners of the Plaza and encircled the two, swaying and singing, "You've lost that Sigma feeling..."  Now I have no idea what the young woman did to lose the Sigma feeling, but it was very entertaining for me!

I know I write this over and over, but I am continually amazed at how the students will come up and pour out whatever is troubling them, sometimes to the point of tears streaming down their faces.  Tests and presentations and papers are piling up, and stress is high.  I remind them to breathe and I pray that God will remove their fears and anxiety give them strength and endurance as they work.  I remember those days so well, when all the work was so overwhelming.  But to talk about their worries with a total stranger is evidence to me that God is at work in that Plaza.  It's worth cold hands and feet and nose and ears and an entire chilled body to be able to be a channel for a little spiritual warmth.  Plus, there's chai and chocolate croissants (heated) waiting in the coffee shop when I'm done.  I never thought I, who hate the cold with great passion, would feel grateful for a couple of hours of sitting out in the cold, but my heart is full of gratitude.

Winter's Parting Gift

I hate winter.  I have always hated winter.  Ever since I was a little girl, I have dreaded the shortening of the days and the beginning of the cold.  What I really hate is being cold!  Sometimes the chill gets into my bones and I can't get warm.  And then there's the depression that comes when I can't be outside and the days are overcast and everything feels gloomy and bleak. 

A couple of years ago I decided to fight the winter blues in a few ways.  One is with a happy light that I start sitting with in September.  Another is my miracle vitamin drink that helps lift my energy.  And finally I have been trying to find the good things about winter.  Instead of feeling sad because the brightly colored leaves are falling off the trees and won't return until spring, I feel grateful that it's easier to see the sky.  The sun also shines through my windows in the winter time and casts a golden glow that tree leaves block in the summer.  I wear my big sweaters and sweatshirts and bundle up in flannel.  I rejoice that my kitties will sit in my lap, even though its not because they really want to cuddle but because they are cold.  All these are things I can be grateful for in winter, and they have helped me change my attitude a bit.

Until this year.  The winter that wouldn't let go.  Tuesday was the last straw.  After canceling my student group at CNU on multiple Tuesday nights, I was determined to go down even though it was quite frightening to drive through the blinding snow on I-64 to Newport News.  Just two days before I had been picking up cigarette butts in 70 degree weather and short sleeves, and now there was a dusting of snow on the ground.  Argh!!  I wanted to scream.  I wanted someone to blame. 

Something happened, though, as I sat in our group learning about praying with icons.  Big, fat, fluffy flakes drifted down outside the windows of the CNU chapel as we listened to chanting and gazed at icons in candlelight.  We were warm and cozy and the snow wasn't hurting us.  And though the drive home was stressful as the precipitation changed from rain to freezing rain to wintry mix and back to snow, by the time I got home, the most beautiful snowflakes were falling.  I got out of my car and walked to the mailbox.  The fat, wet flakes swirled and blew, landing in my hair and on my scarf.  As the light of the streetlamps reflected off the dancing flakes, I felt like I was walking in a snow globe.  It was the prettiest snow of the year.  I stayed outside for awhile, watching it swirl and blow, feeling the cold wet flakes on my face, smiling with delight.  I hate winter, but I've always love to watch snow fall.  And with all the snow we've had this year, it's either been late at night or when I was inside and couldn't watch. 

Thanks, winter, for giving me a walk in the snow globe.  If it's all the same to you, I hope that it will be your last gift this year.