15+ Months - Final Covid Update?

At the beginning of May, I began taking a new supplement.  In my online Long Covid support group people have been posting what has helped them.  Many have found that histamines make their symptoms flare up, and so they are on an anti-histamine diet.  As far as I can tell it means you can eat nothing.  Okay, I exaggerate, but of the food that I eat, very little is included in that diet - if that's what I need to get better, I'm doomed.  Other people have posted all the supplements they're taking.  Two emerged as helping many people - CoQ10 and magnesium. For years, Jan and I have ordered supplements from an online company because their multivitamin comes in liquid form, and we find absorbing liquids much easier than gigantic vitamin pills.  I remembered that some years ago our supplement company started offering CoQ10 as one of those things you "should" take to help with healthy aging.  I just thought they wanted more of our money and ignored it.  When I went to the site to look it up, I found they no longer offered it but that they had a new version, one that includes CoQ10, magnesium, zinc, iron, and more.*  It's supposed to support the creation and health of mitochondria.

Let me digress for a moment - I am cheap. I do not like spending money that I don't need to spend.  Although I take vitamins, I have not truly noticed the difference that they make.  When I saw the price tag of this supplement I couldn't imagine forking out that much for a something that probably wouldn't have a noticeable effect.  But in March and April I had come to believe that my Long Covid had turned into chronic fatigue and that I might not get better.  And a friend reminded me that vitamins aren't cheap.  So I decided that I would try it for one month.  

What a difference a month makes!  I noticed positive effects almost immediately.  My energy was better.  I could do more.  I no longer needed to lie down for meetings.  A number of very stressful pastoral situations cropped up, and I was able to handle them.  I didn't feel overwhelmed by everything, and my mood improved.  The string of good days, previously capped at about 3, started growing.  The number of good days outweighed the bad days, and the bad days weren't as bad.  Hope returned as I began feeling better, and my compassion grew for all of those who suffer with forms of chronic fatigue who don't ever feel better.  I ordered another month's worth.  I began taking longer walks, building up to a daily mile.  Last week, Jan and I ventured out of our neighborhood loop and walked about 2.5 miles on one of our walks.  I kept repeating, "Look how far we've gone.  Look at how far we've gone!"    

June 12 marked 15 months since I noticed my first Covid-19 symptoms in March of 2020.  We could not have known then what a long haul it would be.  So many times I've thought and posted that I was getting better, and sometimes I was for awhile, but then the fatigue would come crashing back down, along with a variety of other symptoms.  This time feels different. I'm still a bit cautious with my optimism because of my prior relapses, but I'm hopeful that this will be my last Long Covid update with regards to my personal health.  Many people in my online group are reporting that they're feeling better about 13-15 months out.  

There are all sorts of exciting things about to happen - the opening of a Moo Thru ice cream store, the creation of St. Monica's community, raising the roof on a women's residential recovery-supported house, planning a house blessing once we finally finish unpacking, Camp Spirit Song for children of addiction, Faith and Recovery conference in Minnesota in the fall, and the list goes on.  It looks like I will get to be part of them!  Thanks to everyone for reading about my ongoing journey and for your prayers and support.  I am so very grateful. 

*For those interested in the supplement, it's called Bod-e Ten and can be found here:  https://www.bodepro.com/featured/ten.  

Hope and Healing at SpiritWorks

Thirteen years ago I met Jan Brown when she started attending Hickory Neck Episcopal Church.  I was fresh out of seminary and had just begun my ordained ministry about a month earlier.  No sooner had I learned about her work than I was referring someone to her for services at the recovery community organization that she had started, SpiritWorks Foundation.  Three years later, in 2011, after having partnered with SpiritWorks on a number of projects, I found I was in need of the recovery community myself.  I sought out Jan's advice as I was facing the consequences of a lifetime of co-dependency.  Exhausted, overwhelmed by my need to please every one, be the hero, and save the day, I was running out of energy, health, and hope.  Jan recommended I start attending a 12-step group, and thus began my journey to co-dependent recovery.  

About a year later I began working at SpiritWorks.  Having experienced healing and hope in the recovery community, I wanted to be part of offering that to others.  Since then I have had the great good fortune of participating in the transformation of lives. It is such a huge privilege to walk with people as they make the transition from despair to hope.  The journey from addiction to recovery can be very challenging, and not everyone makes it on this side of the grave.  Some days the work is heartbreaking, and other days are a celebration of milestones achieved.  We offer groups and activities, trainings and education, community and coaching, healing and hope.

The greatest joy of my work has been creating the First Fridays Recovery Eucharist. On the first Friday of each month, our community gathers.  It includes individuals in active addiction and in recovery, parents with addicted children and parents whose children have died as a result of fatal overdoses, friends and family, allies and mentors, members of Bruton Parish and members of other congregations around the area.  Pre-Covid we even had someone who journeyed each month from North Carolina to attend.  We have baptized babies and adults, witnessed marriages and vow renewals, buried those who have died, and had memorial services for those we've lost.  At First Fridays tears are welcome, and we all celebrate joys together.  To me, the First Fridays worshiping community provides a glimpse of what the heavenly banquet will look like. 

SpiritWorks does not charge fees for its recovery support services.  We rely on contracts, grants, faith communities, and donors to keep us funded and running our two recovery centers in Williamsburg and Warrenton.  Each May we participate in a main fundraising effort called Give Local 757.   The past couple of years we've also participated in Give Local Piedmont, the one we were pushing for the Nifty Fifty prize last week. Give Local 757 is tomorrow, May 11, from midnight to midnight.  Our goal for May is $25,000, and we're almost to $5000.  From 5-6pm we will be hosting an outdoor "Happier Hour" at SpiritWorks for people to drop by for some fellowship, snacks, and soft beverages.  Local folks - come see us at 5800 Mooretown Rd. We accept donations of any size, any kind, any time.  But from midnight tonight until midnight tomorrow, we can also receive prizes if you donate HERE.

It is my great pleasure to support SpiritWorks, and Kasee and I hope you will too, if you can.  We're so grateful for so many who are a part of the healing and hope that we offer to people journeying from addiction to recovery.  

Micah, Martha, and Shadow also appreciate your support!!

6 1/2 Months in the Coronaverse: Update

September 12 marked the 6 month mark since my first COVID symptoms.  I've had some good weeks, and I've even moved this summer - just across town, but still.  What I've been so grateful for are the weeks I've had the energy to do as much as I have.  One day during the move, I think I even had 14,000 steps.  I was feeling pretty close to normal, and then, the week before Labor Day, fatigue returned.  And some shortness of breath, which I thought had resolved in July.  And the achey place between my shoulders.  But most of all, my arch nemesis in this battle - fatigue.

Eating crab - and then a 2 hour nap!

I was particularly frustrated with this "relapse" because I was planning a Labor Day Weekend trip to GA to see my parents and celebrate their birthdays with my brother.  My dad turns 80 in October, and I thought a visit would be the best present I could provide - actually the steamed Chesapeake Bay blue crabs I brought with me were the best present, but my visit was also welcome.  We had a great time cracking crabs and catching up, and I even went on a very slow walk around the neighborhood with them.  Best of all was celebrating Communion with my family and going to pray with a dear friend of the family.  However, it appears I was too ambitious.  Two 10 hour drives in a weekend was too much.  While I was there I had to take long naps and even had to watch the Kentucky Derby lying down.  Fortunately on the driving days, I had the energy to get where I was going, but upon my return, I've had a set back lasting for weeks, feeling worse than I have since earlier in the summer.  

Mid-September I had a visit with my nurse practitioner.  Turns out I now have high blood pressure - high enough that starting medicine was a requirement.   Pre-Covid I didn't have an issue with high blood pressure.  So I'm monitoring it and taking medicine.  In my long-Covid group, a number of people have mentioned high or extreme fluctuating blood pressure.  I've been hoping that's the cause of my malaise because it's treatable, but I haven't been able to find a correlation.  

I've also learned that my fatigue is not about sleep.  It's really an inability to maintain an upright posture.  When I'm having a "wave," standing is hard, and even sitting upright drains me.  As soon as I'm horizontal, I'm better.  I can have an animated conversation, work on the computer, even lead a Zoom group, but I can't do it if I have to be upright.  I don't necessarily need to sleep - just lie down.  This isn't constant; I have days where I can stand and walk and even mow the lawn, vacuum or carry boxes up and down stairs.  But when the "wave" comes, I have to lie down. 

What surprised me on my trip to GA was walking into a gas station in South Carolina, and though a "Masks Required" sign was on the door, I could count on three fingers the number of people wearing masks besides me.  And they weren't employees!  I've also been surprised by how few people know about us long haulers.  There are 21,000 of us just in one FB group.  People don't realize that you don't have to be an elder or have underlying conditions to contract this virus.  They don't understand how many people have ongoing debilitating effects from it.  They don't know how many athletes have been affected and can't even exercise any more.  I find myself doing a lot of educating.  

Taking a spin in Dad's '65 Buick Skylark.  Chris and I both learned to drive in that car!

The long term effects of COVID-19 are still unknown.  We've passed 200,000 deaths in this country, and we're just entering fall.  For the first time in my life, I got a flu shot.  Can't risk getting anything else on top of this!  I worry, though, for our country and our health care system and for all the people on the front lines.  How many more will die?  How many more have long-term debilitating effects?  How long before we can stop social distancing?  How much will we have lost?  How much will we lose?

I do believe I will recover fully, but until then, I have to keep pacing, keep resting, and keep to the sidelines much more than I'm used to doing, hoping that it won't take 6 more months to return to full strength.  In the meantime, I'm so grateful for cooler weather, for the joy of a new home, and for all the support and love I've received in this time.

The Gift of Recovery

  

A little over nine years ago I began attending mutual support meetings for what turned out to be a pretty severe case of codependence.  People pleasing, denying my feelings, trying to control outcomes, obsessive worry, "saving the day," conflict avoidance, and I could go on and on about the patterns of behavior that made my gut wrench and my life unmanageable. Then I discovered recovery.  Life in recovery is good.  I'm more authentic, I sleep better, and though I still have plenty of codependent slips, I'm much more in touch with my own values and live them as fully as I can, even if other people are angry or upset.  Unlike being in recovery from substance use, it can be difficult to tell when I've "relapsed," but all in all, my life is amazing now, and I'm so grateful for the gifts I've received throughout my journey.  Now more than ever I'm glad to be in recovery.  Not only do I apply it to my codependent behaviors, but I also apply it to all aspects of my life.  Including this damnable coronavirus.  

It's been over 17 weeks since I started experiencing COVID-19 symptoms.  17 weeks.  Instead of writing a post about being recovered or cured or well, I am writing about being in recovery.  I am a person in recovery from COIVD-19.  A couple of weeks ago I learned that I have antibodies.  So technically, I should be over the virus, and I should be immune, at least for a time.  But we don't really know about immunity with a novel virus, so it's possible I could get it again.  So much is still unknown.  I've joined a Facebook support group for those of us with #LongCovid.  There are SO MANY PEOPLE experiencing this extended play version, many of them with far worse symptoms than I have.

What I'm experiencing now seems to be post-viral symptoms.  I continue to have fatigue and some shortness of breath, which is, unfortunately, exacerbated by wearing a mask (I am completely committed to wearing one even so.)  I still can't concentrate or remember as well as before (though it's hard to tell where C19 and aging diverge!)  I've had as many as two full weeks when I felt almost normal, but then the setback comes.  Fortunately it's never as bad as before, and the general trend is toward improvement.  But I still haven't been able to increase my walking beyond a 16 minute slow walk.  Fatigue means that I can be in the middle of a meeting and need to lie down.  Or get out of the shower and be exhausted and breathing hard.  It means it's hard for me to sit upright at a computer for very long or to cope with much stress.  I make mistakes in my work and can even get a little off balance moving around.  

Sometimes I push to get through things that I really want/need to do.  Sometimes I feel good enough to do them without pushing.  Sometimes I use my vitamin energy drinks or caffeine to help.  I still don't know if pushing causes relapses or if I need to make the most of my "good" time when I have energy, so I fall somewhere in the middle, trying to get things done if I'm up to it and resting when I'm not.  The advice I hear most about post-viral fatigue is rest, rest, rest, and you will get better.  So, I do.  It's amazing how much I can do lying down with my computer in my lap.

In some ways it's comforting to be in recovery - it's familiar.  I don't expect that I'll ever be cured of codependence, but living in recovery makes life quite good.  I don't yet know whether I will be permanently changed in some way by the virus, but even if I am, I know how to live in recovery.  One day at a time.

This is what recovery looks like for me:

Learning to live WITH something.

Doing my best each day to make healthy choices.  Forgiving myself when I don't.

Some days/weeks there may be relapses.

Celebrating the good days while not getting seduced into thinking that all days will be good days.

Setting boundaries - and this one is very hard for me, especially when it comes to work.

Attending mutual support groups, educating myself about the disease, and working with a support team.

Listening to my body.

Being gentle with myself and others.

Turning everything over to God.

Living in recovery does not mean that I get it right all the time.  When I don't, I say I'm sorry.  I look at my part, and I make needed amends, and I work to do things differently.  

Life is changed, I am changed, and I have choices about how I continue my journey.  

I continue to choose recovery.

Introducing Kasee Ellison: Guardian Angel

For those of you interested in the story of Kasee the Kitten:

A week ago today, I awoke to a phone call.  "Did you see Becky's text about the kitten?" Jan asked.  I had vaguely heard the vibration of my phone receiving texts but hadn't picked it up as I was still sleepy.  Jan told me that one of our friends, who is also a SpiritWorks parents, Becky, had found a kitten.  She wanted me to look at the picture.

I reached over the side of the bed to grab my phone and saw the picture of a tiny white kitten peering around the side of a planter.  Along with the picture was a text:  This little kitten was thrown over my fence late last night.  She looks just like Katie's cat.  I can't keep her because I'm allergic but I was wondering if maybe she came here for Lauren.

At 11:00 the night before, Becky had convinced her husband, Eric, to sit outside for awhile.  As they sat by the pool, breathing in the sweet, honeysuckle air, a bright light streaked across the darkness.  "What was that?" Becky asked.  Eric answered, "A meteor."  They sat talking for awhile longer until they heard a loud rustling under the trees near the fence.  At first they thought it was a large bird.  Since it was past midnight, Eric suggested they turn in, but when they heard a crying sound, Becky became convinced it was a kitten.  "That's not a bird.  I'm going to check it out."  She started making meowing sounds and heard an answering cry.  When she got to the fence, she found a little white kitten stranded in the brush.  She tried to pick her up gently, but the kitten was too scared and ran away.

Becky kept meowing and talking to the kitten until she ventured almost to the pool deck.  At that point, Eric decided to head inside, and Becky told him she'd be right in.  Instead she laid down on the ground and talked to her new tiny buddy.  She told her about Katie and then told her about me, sure that the kitten had come to comfort me and help me get well.  Becky fell asleep talking to her and woke around 2:30.  Time to go to bed and see what the morning would bring. 

Early the next morning, Becky and Eric headed to the yard to see if the kitten was still there.  Eric strode quickly to the pool, fearing that the tiny cat might have stumbled into it and drowned.  He didn't want Becky to find the furry being in the skimmer.  Becky made meowing sounds and heard a responding cry.  She fed the kitten some tuna.

Then she texted Jan and me, sending the picture of the little white ball of fluff.  She's going to need someone kind.

I'm kind.  I texted back.

Will you take her?

Yes, Lauren will take her Jan offered.  "I love her," she told me on the phone.  

Katie's kitten, Ouija

We made arrangements to meet Becky and Eric at SpiritWorks.  "Her name can be K.C., Katie's Cat." Jan suggested.  I instantly liked it.

Katie was Becky and Eric's vibrant, fierce, theatre-loving, singing, acting, dancing, twenty-four year old daughter.  The daughter I had gotten to meet only days before she died of a fatal overdose.  Some years ago, Katie had found a kitten named her Ouija who looked nearly identical to this new kitten. Becky knew that Katie had sent her to us.  "Katie always thought I could save any animal that was hurt."

When we arrived at SpiritWorks, all wearing masks, Becky was holding the little cutie all wrapped up in a big white towel.  She transferred her to me, and the bond was instant.  She was adorable, and I knew I'd do what I could to keep her safe and give her a chance at life.

Over the course of the morning, as we drove to PetSmart to pick up kitten supplies and then to the emergency vet to get her checked out since she appeared to have a significant wound on her face, we wondered how this kitten had found her way to Becky.  Was she dumped over the fence by a cruel human?  Was she thrown into Becky's yard because one of Katie's friends knew she would take care of her?  Did a predator hawk or owl steal her away from her mama and then drop her as she fought for her life?  We'll never know, but we're guessing Katie had a hand in it.  This kitten is so like her, fierce, fun-loving, and full of life. 

As we waited at the animal hospital, Jan and I discussed other names - Henrietta, 'Rona, Midnight, Rosa, biblical names, names with special meanings.  We called her Midnight for the vet's record; I couldn't let them put "No Name" on the chart, and she had been discovered at midnight.  We weren't yet sure if she was female. The vet called us as we waited in the car and said the kitten was a she, about 5-6 weeks old, that she had had a rough start and that she was a bit of a fixer-upper.  He had glued together a laceration on her hind leg, and treated her for worms.  She needed surgery to fix her wounded lip because it was hanging into her mouth.  She might have intestinal parasites - don't introduce her to other pets yet. Mostly she needed food, antibiotics, and lots of TLC to stabilize her.

When they brought her out to us, we were so relieved.  "Her name is K.C.," Jan said, and I agreed.  Katie's Cat but with her own spelling of the name - Kasee.  And Ellison after the first African American deaconess, Anna Ellison Butler Alexander.  

Kasee Ellison.  Guardian Angel.  Gift from Katie.  And God.

We looked up Kasee and found a definition in the Urban Dictionary:  Super smart girl... and fun to be with.  Can make anyone laugh, is always smiling.  Can't stand not knowing the answer to anything.  Always wears the crown in a situation.  People wish they were as cool as Kasee, and want to be her every day of their lives.  Seemed we'd chosen the right name.  Becky approved.

Kasee adjusted quickly to her new home.  She's a sweet, loving, curious, purring, cuddly, joyful kitten with an extraordinary will to live.  She was born in this corona virus time and has overcome the odds.  She sailed through her surgery just fine and has been unstoppable - except when she keels over for a nap.  

Coronatide has not stolen my joy, but it had diminished it.  Kasee has restored it, reminding me to stay in the present, to laugh at myself, to take things less seriously, to nap often, and to focus on those who need my love, even if they leave poo-ey foot prints on my clothes and floor.  She fills me with delight.  I do not yet have the energy to keep up with her, and she seems to forgive me for that, but she also fills me with hope that I can be as resilient as she is.  

I don't know why I am so lucky to have this precious little being entrusted to my care, but I am so grateful to Katie, to Becky and Eric, to Jan, her other mama, who fell in love with her first, and especially to God who always blesses me more than I can ask for or imagine.

Belongs to both SpiritWorks and the church!

8 Weeks In - Plateau

Me with my warmies.

Today marks the end of 8 weeks since I first began experiencing symptoms of Covid-19.
I haven't checked in here for a couple of weeks because there hasn't been anything new to say.  It seems that on my journey from mostly recovered to fully recovered, I have come to a plateau.  Each day feels the same.  I get up, thinking that this'll be the day/week I'm going to get better.  I make my bed, take my shower, feed the cat, and then I lie down and rest before I muster the energy to make my bowl of cereal.  Or I eat the cereal and then lie down and rest.  Sometimes I'm able to sit in a chair on my front stoop and drink my cup of tea in the sun.  Each day I decide on things I'm going to do, and rarely do I get to any of them because there is. no. energy.

I was so excited the day that my doctor's office said I could start building strength by taking five minute walks and then adding five minutes each day.  I took the first one on a Thursday.  On Friday I didn't have enough energy for a walk, and on Saturday I had to lie down all day to rest.  It wasn't causal - one 5 minute walk didn't wipe me out for two days; it's just the progress of this virus.  About a week after that first walk, I was ready to take another 5 minute walk.  Since then I've been able to build gradually, carefully listening to my body.  Instead of jumping from 5 to 10 minutes, I went to 7 and then 8.  Now I'm up to a 12 minute walk and grateful for it.  (I read a great article today from MedPage Today that helped me feel not so alone in this and taught me a new word:  sequelae - a condition which is the consequence of a previous injury or disease.  You can read the article HERE.)

This is the stage where I've run out of wisdom and patience.  I'm frustrated and irritable and restless - usually signs of returning health, but still no energy.  When my bishop wisely directed me again this week not to return to work, I was ready to rebel.  Even as I grumbled, I recognized that she was right.  The spirit is willing, but the flesh is still very weak.  I long to return to helping with the Sunday live-stream and making liturgical videos and facilitating groups and making pastoral calls, but I can feel that I don't have the energy to sustain the work.  I'm mad and sad and so sick of being weak and  tired.

The only puzzle I had - but it was fun!

All over again, I have to surrender. I am powerless over my disease, and my job right now is taking care of my health.  And that means accepting that time takes time and full recovery is going to take the time it's going to take.  So I've finished a puzzle, watched many episodes of Little House on the Prairie, attended Facebook Live Indigo Girls Concerts, participated in a Giving Day for SpiritWorks, received some lovely flowers and cards and emails, and thought about doing many things.  Until today I haven't even had energy for another blog post!

Tonight I listened to the Indigo Girls play their Album Rites of Passage live.  One of the songs toward the end, one I haven't listened to in a long time, was "Let It Be Me." The lyric, "When the world is night, shine my life like a light," really sank in.  That's my prayer tonight.  That God will shine my life like a light, even though I'm unable to do very much right now.

But friends, and I hesitate to say this too loudly, yesterday afternoon a little energy returned.  And today, I only needed to lie down for one period of time.  So no rejoicing yet, because I've been here before and a new fatigue wave always comes, but I am left with hope as I head to sleep.  Perhaps, perhaps in week 9, I will kick COVID's butt!  Stay tuned...

Telling Our Recovery Stories

Last week I went to the Gathering of Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church in Seattle.  I will post more about the conference later, but for this post I want to talk about the exercise we did on the first afternoon.  Jan Brown (newly elected VP of RMEC) and Shannon Tucker (current president of RMEC) led a session on "telling our recovery stories."  Shannon moved us by sharing his story of addiction and recovery with vulnerability and honesty and a good sprinkling of humor.  And then Jan asked him to share his story in 5 sentences.  The distilled version was equally as powerful as the longer version had been. 

After Shannon's story, Jan invited those who wanted to give it a try to come forward and share their stories in 5 sentences as a way to introduce themselves to the whole group.  It was also a way to bring many voices into the room, not just those of the presenters.  I was astonished by the courage of those who shared.  One of the goals of the afternoon was to learn a new way to talk about our stories – instead of saying, “Hi, I’m Lauren, I’m a co-dependent/addict/alcoholic,” we were taught to say, “Hi, I’m Lauren, and I’ve been in recovery from co-dependence for 4 ½ years, and what this means for me is …”   Earlier in the morning Becca Stevens had talked about how our stories need to be stories of good news.  Hearing so many stories of recovery was seriously good news to me.  We often hear about how hard it is to recover, and yet it happens all the time.

Try it.  What would your 5 sentence recovery story be?  Don’t opt out – we all need recovery from something.  

Here’s mine:

1.  After a lifetime of exhausting myself striving to please others, I have been in recovery from co-dependence for 4 ½ years. 

2.  I now work part-time as a recovery priest with a non-profit in Williamsburg, Virginia and part-time as a college chaplain. 

3.  Sometimes it seems like I will never be able to let go of all my co-dependent behaviors, but I remind myself that I am a work in progress. 

4.  I am grateful for the health and happiness that I have found on my recovery journey.   

5.  Most of all I am grateful to God for bringing me the help I needed and for putting me in places where I can be of help to others.

Your turn. 

Sundays @ 7: Intentional Community of Prayer

Tonight was our first ever Sundays @ 7 service.  We created it because people have asked us to have a First Fridays every week.  A full Eucharist every week doesn't fit our schedule or Bruton's, but we've been trying to figure out how to have a weekly offering at a time that is convenient for people.  For awhile we thought about doing a dinner church a la St. Lydia's in Brooklyn, but the thought of cooking dinner for a group of people is so stressful to me that I just couldn't figure it out.  Neither Jan nor I are cooks, and SpiritWorks doesn't have a kitchen.  One day "Sundays @ 7" popped into Jan's head, and in our minds it was also "Sundaes @ 7."  Ice cream sundaes don't stress me out at all!  Admittedly I hadn't planned on making homemade ice cream, but a little help from William Sonoma, and voila!  Homemade vanilla and mocha chip ice cream. 

The purpose of the service is to create an intentional community of prayer, not unlike Richmond Hill.  They pray for the City of Richmond.  We pray for those who have been affected by addiction.  So I started to develop a service based on Evening Prayer and then I switched to Compline.  In the end it's really a prayer and song service.  Jan and I accompanied the singing on djembe drums, and those who came joined in with shakers and other percussion instruments.  We had a time of silence like they do at Nadia Bolz-Weber's church, in which people could pray or light candles or write prayer requests on notecards to be read during the intercessions.  We used a singing bell to begin and end the silence.  One of my favorite parts was using the Taizé song "O Lord hear my Prayer" in between each set of petitions during the Intercessions.  We pray for those struggling with addiction, family and friends, those who support people affected by addiction, people in recovery, and people who have died.  We include community organizations, first responders, sponsors, mentors, etc. We used the Gospel reading from the daily office, and I did a reflection about the feeding of the 4000.  We also had a recovery reading and a Psalm.  We ended with "Holy Manna," complete with drums and shakers.

The only thing that I didn't like about the service was that a train went through during the intercessions, and we are right across the street from the train.  Hard to be heard over a train!  But other than that, I was so delighted with the service.  I've never been brave enough to lead music with my drum before, but I had observed someone doing that earlier in the week and decided that I could do it.  We had fun creating the altar with items that we collected from around SpiritWorks.  We turned our little pavilion which is usually the designated smoking area into a sacred space, a space for prayer and worship.  Of course, being outdoors on a cool night with a breeze and sunshine was just the icing on the cake.  Well, except for the actual icing on the cake. 

I might not be able to cook dinner, but I can bake!  We sang happy birthday to Jan whose birthday is tomorrow, and everyone enjoyed a little sweet feast after the service.  So grateful for the beautiful day and the people who came and the stress-free set-up and that I was able to give my little reflection without a manuscript and that everyone participated in making music together and praying together.  I hope the service will grow as we continue each Sunday evening this summer, AND I was grateful for the 8 people we had.  Eight is enough to start a community, and start it we did, with reverence and gratitude and joy for all we have been given in our recovery.

"Taste and see the grace eternal.

Taste and see that God is good."  -Sylvia G. Dunston, All Who Hunger Gather Gladly