Do It Afraid

"'Be not afraid' does not mean we cannot have fear.  Everyone has fear, and people who embrace the call to leadership often find fear abounding.  Instead, the words say we do not need to be the fear we have.  We do not have to lead from a place of fear, thereby engendering a world in which fear is multiplied." -Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak p. 94

I hate making telephone calls.  I'd rather go to the dentist than make a phone call - in fact, one of the reasons I don't mind going to the dentist is that they schedule your next appointment when you're there, so you don't have to call for one.  One of the best inventions EVER is online scheduling!  My "phonephobia" is something I can't explain.  Maybe it's my codependency that leads me to want to see another person's face while I'm having a conversation so I can see how they're responding to what I say and make sure they still like me.  Maybe it's the fact that my brains seem to leak out my butt when I pick up a phone and I babble inarticulately - especially if I'm talking to an answering machine.  Maybe I have bad phone memories from my childhood.  Who knows?  What I do know is that I would rather drive to the vet to make the appointments for the cats or visit a store to see if they have the thing I need rather than have to call and ask.  It's crazy and inefficient.  When I used to work at VA Stage Co. I would walk all over the building to talk to people so that I didn't have to pick up the phone.  Only a real urgency will allow me to bypass my fear.  (Or calling a good friend -  usually that doesn't bother me.) 

I am ready to get over this fear.  There is a phrase in the circles of recovery that says, "Do it Afraid."  It seems to fit well with the quote from Parker Palmer above.  Do it afraid.  Feel the fear, but do it anyway.  Palmer goes on to say, "We have places of fear inside of us, but we have other places as well - places with names like trust and hope and faith.  We can choose to lead from one of those places..."

Lead from a place of trust and hope and faith.  Even if I'm still scared.  Sometimes it seems so much easier just to give in to my fear.  But there are things that I need to do that involve phone calls.  Important things.  Things that matter.  It's time to do it afraid.  Just like jumping off the zip line platform.

Wish me luck. 

I'll let you know if I'm successful.

Whatever you're scared of doing right now, why don't you join me, and do it afraid?  We can jump off the platform together. 

Healing Oils: The Extravagance of God's Love

Today I attended a workshop in Richmond given by the Rev. Becca Stevens, founder of Magdalene/Thistle Farms, a residential treatment program for women coming off the streets of Nashville.  The workshop was about surrender.  Not the kind of surrender that involves waving the white flag on the field of battle to concede that I am the loser and you are the winner.  But surrender that involves giving in, letting go, giving oneself up to something greater, like surrendering to love, surrendering to God.

Becca wove the making of healing oils into the conversation about surrender.  Healing oils are made by adding a few drops of essential oils into a larger amount of a carrier oil.  Carrier oils include olive oil, jojoba oil, and almond oil.  Essential oils carry the scent of the plant they come from.  Today's oils included cinnamon, sweet orange, lavender, bergamot, lemon, grapefruit, geranium, and cedar.  My hands and hair and sweater still smell like oils.  We got to make our own by using droppers to put olive oil in small vials and then mixing in a few drops of the essential oils we liked.  It was such fun to play with the scents and try to find the most pleasing combination.  Each oil has particular healing properties, too, and it was very prayerful to try to pick particular oils for particular people.

The most powerful moment of the workshop for me came at the end.  We had been talking about the woman who anointed Jesus with the costly nard, about the extravagance of the gesture, about the complete surrender involved, and about the healing that happened for the woman and, we are guessing, for Jesus.  Becca wrapped up by reading us the story of Jesus on the beach with the disciples asking Peter if he loved him.  She asked if there were questions.  In the long silence that followed, Becca poured a generous amount of olive oil into a small pitcher and then put the remains of several vials of essential oils into it.  She then invited forward a woman who happens to be an old friend of hers from Sewanee.  Becca asked her friend to take off her socks and shoes.  She then said a prayer while putting her hand in the container of oil and scooping a large amount onto her friend's feet.  She proceeded to bathe her friend's feet with the oil, rubbing it on from ankle to toe, soaking the feet in the oil.  She ended the prayer and then paused.  And then she continued talking about how God keeps reaching out with love for us, and she took another handful of oil and spread it over her friend's feet.  A third time, she poured the remaining oil over the feet.  When she was done, she wiped her friends feet with paper towels and gently put her socks and shoes back on.

I don't really remember what Becca said as she anointed her friend with healing oil.  It was a gesture that didn't need words.  In a visceral way, the extravagant amount of oil she used brought home for me the extravagance of God's love.  God keeps coming back and bathing us in that love, no matter who we are, no matter what we've done.  As I watched the oil spill over and drip down onto the floor, I thought about how expensive essential oils are, how Becca was willing to "waste" all that oil to make her point.  But not just to make her point.  To give us an experience.

Jesus continually compared the kingdom of heaven to concrete things that the disciples could see and touch and smell and taste.  Today I learned that the kingdom of heaven is like generous amounts of healing oil slathered on a woman's feet, dripping down onto the wooden floor, soothing and cleansing and overflowing.  It smells like lavender and grapefruit and cedar.  It lingers on your hands, on your clothes, in your hair.  And there is more than enough of it to go around.

Heart Space

The other day I finished reading Richard Rohr's latest book, Immortal Diamond.  At the back he included several appendices.  The one that has captured my attention is called, "Head into Heart: 'The Sacred Heart.'"  In this little appendix Rohr discusses bringing our thoughts into our hearts.  He talks about how important this idea was for the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and he links it to the "Sacred Heart" imagery so often found in Catholic art.

I confess, I have never given a thought to the "Sacred Heart."  And though I've read the Desert Fathers and Mothers, I've never thought about prayer in exactly this way, bringing my thoughts down into my heart.  Rohr says, "Next time a resentment, negativity, or irritation comes into your mind... and you want to play it out or attach to it, move that thought or person literally into your heart space because such commentaries are almost entirely lodged in your head.  There, surround it with silence (which is much easier to do in the heart).  There, it is surrounded with blood, which will often feel warm like coals." (p. 204)  He goes on to suggest that what we do when we pray for someone is to move them into our heart space.

I have never heard this description of prayer before.  I'm finding it to be a very powerful practice, though.  I know that we can't "literally" move people into our hearts, but imagining moving someone into my heart is a very tender and vulnerable experience.  As Rohr suggests, it is in our thoughts that we hold onto resentments, judgments, criticisms, and endless ongoing conversations.  In our heart space, there is love.   I can't imagine someone in my heart space and continue to be angry, frustrated, unforgiving, etc.  That space is warm and accepting and so very gentle.  It seems that I am not yet able to put just anyone there.  But I'm hoping that with practice, I can learn to move people into that space when I'm ready and when it feels safe to do so. 

Being someone who gets endlessly trapped in thinking, I am grateful for a concrete prayer practice that I think will have a powerful influence on my ability to forgive.  Myself and others.  Though I haven't tried it yet, I am guessing I can use this practice with my self as well as others, especially when I get caught up in the relentless self criticism in my head.  Ever so gently I can imagine me in my heart, wrapped in love, just as I imagine that God holds us in God's heart.  I'm not sure whether that makes any sense at all, but I will continue to try it and see what I learn.

The other night I watched the movie, E.T., for the first time in many years.  E.T.'s heart space looks kind of like what I'm imagining when I put people in mine.  Visuals are hard for me, so it helps.  Rohr says, "Love lives and thrives in the heart space."  I believe that.  I'm hoping I can transform the negatives in my life by moving them down into the loving space of my heart.  With God's help.

The Reluctant Visitors: Meeting Pearl Fryar

Have you had the experience of someone recommending that you go someplace, and you just didn't want to go?  Even though the person raved and raved about it and said it was a "must see" and kept asking you if you'd been yet?  But something stubborn and rebellious in you kept resisting, just couldn't imagine that whatever it was could be that wonderful.  And then when you finally did go, did you feel a sense of gratitude and perhaps a little sheepishness that you'd doubted the recommendation?  Well, that's what happened to me with Pearl Fryar's garden.

If you're ever traveling down I-20 through South Carolina, do yourself a favor and don't resist - make a stop in Bishopville at Pearl Fryar's topiary garden.  There's not a lot to see along that stretch of highway, and it will add delight to your trip.  It won't cost you a thing, unless you choose to make a donation.  If you're lucky, Pearl himself will be there to welcome you and show you around his yard of marvelous topiaries and whimsical sculptures.

Pearl began his garden with the goal of winning the Yard of the Month award.  He had a 3-minute lesson from a man at the local nursery and went to work creating a fairyland of shaped shrubbery.  In his words, "I like to cut bushes." Pearl says that academics were not his favorite thing, but he had a gift for cutting bushes, and he has used that gift well.  Pearl's story has been featured in the movie, "A Man Named Pearl."

I was heading with a friend to her family reunion in Augusta, GA on a warm morning in July when we reluctantly turned off the interstate.  We had decided we would arrive before it opened and then take a quick look so we could say we had been there and then get back on the road.  Little did we know when we set off that morning that we would have a life-changing experience meeting Pearl Fryar and seeing his work.

The topiaries were amazing.  It's hard to capture them on film though if you visit Pearl's website, you'll see some great pictures.  Amongst the artfully trimmed shrubs and trees were "junk sculptures" also made by Pearl.  In one section spelled out in red begonias were the words, "Peace, love, and good will."  And those are the things Pearl spreads with his passion for trimming bushes.

Buses of school children and other groups drive in to view the gardens and to learn about Pearl's philosophy.  "Hate hurts" is one side of a sculpture, complete with a frowny face, and the flip side reads "Love and unity" with a smile.  Pearl explains to the kids that you have to let go of the negative and focus on the positive.  No matter what.  And the kids take his message to heart, letting him know years later how his seeds of positive thinking helped them stay on  course.

Pearl uses donations to his garden to grant scholarships to "C" students who will be attending junior or community colleges.  He wants to inspire students who may not have academic strengths to pursue their creative dreams.  You can read more about his scholarship program here.

Pearl's art and passion blew me away.  We at SpiritWorks Foundation want to make a difference in the life of a child.  Pearl is already doing that and by doing something he loves.  To think, that we might have missed out on seeing his extraordinary garden and learning about his beautiful vision.  I'm so grateful we didn't.  Meeting Pearl was a blessing and an inspiration.  I hope our paths will cross again. 

Missing the Tree: Even Small Change can be Hard

About an hour ago, after I had completed my morning meditation, I heard voices outside my living room window and looked up to see workmen trimming the trees of my backdoor neighbor.  As I watched, I quickly realized that they weren't just there to trim the trees; they were actually removing the redbud tree that grows right outside my neighbor's porch.  It blocks my view of her porch.  She usually has bird feeders hanging from it, including a hummingbird feeder, and a bird bath sits under it.  Squirrels run up and down the tree all day, and birds often perch on its limbs before dropping down for a bite to eat or soaring off to another neighborhood tree. 

Now it's gone.  Empty space greets my eyes every time I look up.  I had not realized how often my gaze rests on that tree and its inhabitants.  It is the first thing I see outside my window.  And now, I can't seem to stop looking for it.  If you've ever had a tooth removed, then you know what I mean - it's like not being able to stop my tongue from looking for the missing tooth.  I just keep looking up and seeing my neighbor's porch.  No tree.

Of course there are many other trees out the same window if I look in a different direction.  Birds and squirrels play in those trees as well.  It's not like all the green has gone away.  And yet I feel sad, missing a tree that I've always taken for granted, the tree with the heart shaped leaves and the sweet purple flowers in spring.  The tree that made my living room feel very private even with the blinds open.  It wasn't a huge tree, but it played an important role in the green space behind my house.

Maybe the absence of the tree will allow more light in and help the grass to grow in our common area.  Maybe some of my plants in the backyard will grow more now that there is more light.  Maybe I will come to appreciate the open space that has been created.  For now, though, I miss the tree.  Even small change can be hard.  Something to remember when I find myself asking other people to change.  Even small change involves loss and possibly grief - not large sobbing, soul-shaking grief, but small grief that's easy to ignore so it gets lodged somewhere with all the other unacknowledged small griefs until it comes out sideways somewhere down the road. 

So, before I go charging off to the next task, pulling myself away so that I don't have to keep facing the empty space in my backyard, I will take a moment to mourn the redbud tree, a living thing that needed to be cut down because its branches could cause damage to the roof of a house, a part of God's creation that brought me joy even though I couldn't have named that until today, a green and growing element of my life that has now died.  Good-bye sweet redbud tree.  I will miss you.  Thank you for all the pleasure you brought to me and this little corner of the world.

Entertaining Strangers: Visiting with Ashley Bryan

On the weekend of July 13, the people of Little Cranberry Island, off the coast of Maine, gathered to celebrate the 90th birthday of Mr. Ashley Bryan.  On Monday, July 15, I learned of Ashley as I traveled on the mail boat from Northeast Harbor to Little Cranberry (known also as Islesford) to catch a boat for our lobster tour.  A lady on the boat asked if we knew that it was Ashley's birthday.  I had never even heard of Ashley and certainly didn't know of his natal celebration.  The woman suggested that we walk up to his house on the island and ask to see his sea glass windows.  Some of them were on display in the Congregational Church on the island, but she assured us that he also welcomed visitors to stop in and see him.

I have to admit that I was skeptical.  It didn't seem right to just drop in at the private home of an artist.  When we arrived on the island, we walked up to the church and saw the windows portraying scenes from the Bible:  the Palm Sunday procession, the Nativity, the calming of the storm.  They were beautiful and so unique.  So we decided to try to find his house and meet the man who had created such lovely windows out of glass washed up by the sea.

Ashley was outside his house with several other people.  When we introduced ourselves and told him that the lady on the mail boat had said he was the highlight of the island, he invited us in to his house.  He told us we could play with the toys on the porch if we wanted to, and then he led us inside and showed us all the items he has collected from his travels around the world.  Every inch of space in his house was filled with objects from across the globe.  It was like being in a museum.

Best of all was Ashley's own work.  He led us into a bedroom to see his sea glass windows.  Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  Two evangelists stood on either side of each window with Biblical scenes in small squares interspersed with flowers.  Sea glass of all shapes and colors reflected the light streaming in from outside.  They were stunning.  Ashley showed us a window in progress, one of St. Paul, and demonstrated his method of using papier mache, pounding it into a paste, and inserting it between pieces of sea glass.  It didn't look very impressive to me lying on a table, but as soon as he held it up to the light, it was like magic. 

Ashley also showed us his collection of puppets made out of found objects.  He demonstrated how one could use the puppets to tell stories based on the mystery plays of old.  There were puppets of all kinds - such creative combinations.  He kindly allowed us to take pictures.  We later got to see his illustrated books in a local shop on the island.  He has won numerous awards for his books and uses many mediums for his art.


What amazed me most was Ashley's hospitality to strangers.  He welcomes those who come to his house, invites them in, offers the use of his bathroom, shows them around, and answers any questions.  He seems to delight in showing his work, though he is very humble about it and does not mention awards, talking instead about his joy in creating the art.  When he came back from serving in the war, he was determined not to let the horrors he had seen destroy his life.  Instead he has embraced life and art and books and shares them with everyone who stops by.

I admire Ashley's art, but most of all I admire his generous spirit, his joy and wonder, and his graciousness in welcoming all to his home and sharing the gifts he has been given.  Hebrews 13:2 says, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it."  In this case I think it may have been the angel who was showing hospitality to us.  May he be blessed with many more years.

Maine Trip Overview

I spent the last week house sitting for friends in Maine.  While I was there I didn't have time to write about what I was experiencing, so I'm going to write a few posts now to try to capture the trip.  This first one will be a short overview, and then I'll go into details in future posts.

We drove up to Maine in 1 day, just shy of 15 hours of driving, hitting 10 states on the way.  We arrived in a deep fog and worried that our trip would be spent mostly indoors, but the next day the fog burned off by noon and never returned.  I love how Maine smells, like low tide and Christmas trees.  Fresh and clean and salty.  The balsam firs are everywhere, their delicate scent drifting in to sweeten the air every so often. 

On our first day we got to spend time with Miko and Bella, our two charges for the week, and we toured downtown Ellsworth where we were staying and drove over for a visit to Bar Harbor and the Loop Road of Acadia National Park.  Beautiful.  We strolled down to the water in Bar Harbor, explored some of the shops, scoped out the Episcopal Church for Sunday, and took the mile long shore walk before heading out to Acadia and the rugged Maine coast.  We stopped for views and pictures and even meditated on the rocks with the sound of the ocean waves providing the background music. 

On Friday, our second day we decided to take a tour of the Schoodic Peninsula, about an hour north and got to play on the rocks where the ocean waves were breaking.  We saw lots of gorgeous scenery and stopped in the sweet little town of Corea at the Wharf Gallery for grilled cheese lobster sandwiches.  Yum!  We fell in love with the little Corea Harbor and drove all around it.  On the road in we also saw a puffin's nest on top of a telephone pole. 

On Saturday exhaustion from the trip and a rough night up with the dogs caught up with us, and we had a mostly quiet day.  The view from the house of Union River was stunning, and the wind stirred up the river waves at high and low tides.  We had dinner that night at Finn's Irish Pub, good fish and chips and ice cream later from Morton's Moo in Ellsworth.

On Sunday we headed in for church at St. Savior's in Bar Harbor where we participated in a lovely service and then took a tour of the church which has 10 Tiffany windows.  The tour guide was delightful, told great stories and had a wonderful sense of humor.  After church we changed clothes and caught the Island Explorer bus to Jordan Pond where we had popovers before heading out on a hike to Bubble Rock and around Jordan Pond.  More about that in another post.  After completing our hike we took the bus back to town and arrived in time for ice cream (macademia coconut white chocolate) before the evening service for seasonal employees at St. Savior's.  Turns out that it was a prayer and praise service, and the largest group in attendance were from Jamaica.  We heard Jamaican Gospel music filling the walls of St. Savior's and enjoyed worshiping there.

On Monday we took the mail boat to Little Cranberry Island where we got meet Ashley Bryan and tour his house and his art.  More about him later.  We also went on a lobster boat tour.  Such fun!  We learned a lot about lobsters and had a great afternoon on the water.  We ate that night at the Lobster Pot in Ellsworth - yummy lobster mac & Cheese.

Tuesday was our last day, and we spent the morning working on the farm where our friends get shares of vegetables.  We picked cucumbers and beet greens and washed and packed them.  We went back to Corea for the afternoon for more fresh lobster and local friendliness.

On the way back home we stopped in Baltimore for a lovely dinner with my cousins, Anne and Shirley.  It was a wonderful trip, and I look forward to sharing some of my reflections in later posts.