Last Day, Full Heart

This morning, after snapping my clerical collar into place and pulling on my Canterbury t-shirt, I put on my CNU Episcopal Chaplain name tag for the last time.  Above it I attached my small “Safe Zone” pin.  Turns out the weather was cool and rainy enough that I also wore my blue and white CNU sweatshirt on top of everything. 

My last day at the prayer station.  It was hard to wrap my brain around it this morning, and now that it’s over, I’m still in disbelief. 

When I arrived today, I took one load of stuff to the Plaza.  I was pleased that it was dry enough to set up outside.  After running inside to order a chicken flatbread sandwich for lunch, since I hadn’t brought anything with me, I went to the chapel to get my sign.  Before I even got the chairs out of their bags, the raindrops began plopping onto the sign, threatening to smear the ink.  I checked my Weather Channel app and saw a big blob of green, yellow, and red approaching the blue dot that indicated my location. Scary looking blob.  Promising more than a few drops of rain.

Time to move inside.

I was disappointed to be inside on the last day, but I was glad that I made that decision because a few minutes later I saw students running into the building, soaking wet.  Umbrellas and hoods went up as students headed out into the downpour.  After picking up my sandwich, I began setting up the chairs in the DSU rotunda, when a senior walked in and greeted me.   

“How are your exams going?” I asked him. 

“I just finished college,” he answered.  He had just emerged from his last final.

I held my hand up, and he gave me an exuberant high five.  The look on his face was priceless.  Joy, wonder, disbelief, shock, amazement.  He told me that last night he had felt a flood of feelings and that it would all take a long time to process.  I bet.  He asked what was going on with me, and when I told him about my new position, he said, “You’re in transition too.”

Yes.  Yes, I am.  I guess I feel a little like he does today – lots of feelings.

My Canterbury students surprised me with a gift at lunch – a book they had made of pictures and notes they had written, including one from our student who is studying abroad.  Some were handwritten; some were typed.  They included our scripture, John 8:32.  At first I thought it was a little writing notebook, but when I opened it I saw what they had done and tears formed behind my eyes.  I couldn’t read it right then because I knew I'd be too emotional, but later in the afternoon I read through each note and smiled with wet eyes as I read their kind and loving words.  It was the best gift they could have given me and will be a book I treasure.  I found myself holding it close and finally put it in my bag.  The student who gave it to me said that they had all pitched in.  My heart was so full - gratitude, humility, sadness, joy, surprise, love.  I know they aren't really my students - they are their own wonderful, individual selves, but I can't help thinking of them as my students, and they will always have a special place in my heart.

At about 1:45 it was time to pack up the prayer station and unload the exam snacks.  St. Stephen's senior warden came by and blessed me by helping me unload and set up.  He also took some pictures and helped with the exam snack table.  I was so grateful for his help.  As always we provided a smorgasbord of options ranging from fruit to Capri-suns to chips to candy, with an especially heavy emphasis on the candy that had been leftover from the Easter egg hunt.  Capri-suns were the first to go.  One of the Canterbury students hung out for about an hour helping us out.  Another came by to pick up a new t-shirt that I had just received from the printer this morning.  A third came by and helpfully filled a bag full of candy for her suite-mates just when we were ready to pack up and assisted us in loading the car.  Hugging each student good-bye was hard, but I am so grateful that I've gotten to have this time with them. 

Leaving CNU early tonight felt strange.  I'm not sure I quite believe it's over.  I will preach and celebrate at St. Stephen's on Sunday at a combined service in my honor and begin another round of good-byes, but today was it for my time on campus.  Like the seniors, I am graduating, and there is a whole heap of feelings.  Though I have a sermon to write and many other things on my list to do, I have been at odds tonight, not quite ready to let go.  New good things are coming, not the least of which is a trip to Denver to see my brother and his family, but for tonight, I'm trying to be with my feelings.  It's okay to be sad.  It's okay to miss them.  It's okay to need time to process.  Both for them and for me. 

Saying Good-bye Part 2

It's hard to say good-bye.  And not only to trees.

Today I start saying good-bye to CNU.

Monday night we had dinner at Father Scott's - the last time I will be part of it.  Tonight will be my last official meeting for Episcopal Campus Ministry at CNU.  This afternoon I'm bringing the labyrinth to the Plaza for its final appearance.  Next Thursday students will be finishing up exams, and I will sit and pray one more time at the Plaza Prayer Station and then hand out some exam snacks.  The first of May will be my last official Sunday at St. Stephen's, though I will be there once more briefly to fill in when Scott is away on the Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend.  Lots of lasts.

I will not miss the commute down I-64 under construction, and I will not miss watching the trees being destroyed.  I will not miss the wind trying to knock me down as I carry my sign across campus or the freezing cold temperatures as I huddle in the DSU in winter.

I will miss the students, the prayer station, the beautiful CNU campus, the quiet prayers and in depth conversations, the chocolate croissants at Einstein's, ECM meetings in the chapel, sharing the labyrinth, the Farmer's Market, blessing the semester, the staff members I've come to know, weekly visits to the OSA office, Sunday mornings with the good people of St. Stephen's, the dinners at Father Scott's, the check-ins with the Canterbury Club, highs and lows, the afternoons praying and talking and being present.  And did I mention the students?  Canterbury students, Thrive students, Cru, UCM, and Lutheran students.  Students on the Diversity Council, students in the arts, student athletes, student leaders, students who I only met for 5 minutes, and students who I got to know quite well.  So many amazing students whom I will miss.

When the seniors graduate from CNU this year, so do I.  I have accepted a position as the Associate Rector for Outreach and Women's Ministries at Bruton Parish Church.  It will be a wonderful opportunity for me to expand recovery ministry and meet a whole new church full of amazing people of God and integrate my SpiritWorks ministry with parish ministry.  It will also be very cool to serve in the church where I was ordained a deacon.  I'm excited.

But first it's time to say good-bye.  Am I starting to sound like Emily in Our Town?  "Good-bye Grover's Corners..."  (Once a theatre major, always a theatre major!)

Good transitions are bittersweet.  In order to say hello to the new thing, we have to say good-bye to what we are leaving behind.  The seniors will be saying good-bye to CNU as they prepare for the new phase of their journey.  Please keep all of us in your prayers as we make this transition.

Although it's hard to say good-bye, the difficulty shows the importance of the relationships.  Thank you, God, for this time at CNU and St. Stephen's, and for all the beautiful people you have brought into my life.  Bless us and keep us until we meet again.

Saying Good-bye to Trees

I live about 40 minutes from CNU.  Each time I go down I drive on I-64.  It is often clogged with traffic, especially when I'm returning home on Sunday afternoons.  They are widening it.  It needs to be widened as it is one of the main arteries into Hampton Roads.  But one of the reasons I have always liked the stretch of road between Newport News and Williamsburg is the trees.  They line both sides of the interstate and fill the median.  When I used to drive from Norfolk to parts further north, I would always breathe a sigh of relief when I left Newport News and reached the stretch of interstate with the trees.

They're taking down the trees.  Every time I drive to CNU, my heart sinks.  I watch the man in the cherry picker lopping off the high branches.  I see tree trunks stripped of branches sticking up out of the earth.  Further along there are stacks of tree trunks in bundles.  Redbuds, dogwoods, pines, maples, sweetgums, trash trees and ornamentals, all decimated.  It breaks my heart, and it's been even worse as the trees have started blooming, only to be cut down.  I hear the words of Dr. Seuss from the Lorax:  "I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees."  I know that the trees have to come down for the road to be widened.  I know that I will be glad when I am no longer stuck for hours at a time in traffic.  But I hate to say good-bye to the trees.

Saying good-bye is hard no matter what.  I had a sweetgum tree removed from my yard in January.  It was growing into my deck and starting to lift the railing off its posts.  Still, I hated to see it go.  I will not miss the sweetgum balls, but I will miss the red and yellow leaves in the fall and the shade in the summer and the birds and squirrels that perched on its branches. I will miss staring up through it's leafy bower to the sky.

I wish that progress didn't mean so much destruction to the natural world.  I know that I will be glad when the construction is done and traffic flows more smoothly.  But oh, how I will miss the trees.

In the Shadow of the Topiary

On Thursday I sat in the shadow of the topiary.  One of the students who comes by and frequently comments on the weather said, "It's not cold.  It's not rainy."  I responded, "And I'm sitting in the shadow of the topiary, so it's not too hot!"  After I said it, we laughed, and I joked, "Sounds like a book title, doesn't it?"  Maybe, if I write a book about my experiences at the prayer station, I'll use that title.  On warm days, the Plaza bakes in the sun, and though Thursday wasn't as warm as it will be when the students return in August, I still got a little sweaty.  I had discovered back in the fall that the topiary gives off just enough shade to keep from getting too much sun on my face and to provide a bit of coolness.  It was a lovely day for sitting outside - breezy but not the 40 mph gusts that had been predicted.  Last weekend I had gotten a new chair because the sack for the old one had ripped and made it difficult to carry.  The new one is electric blue, and I was eager for someone to try it out.

It's spring break for many high schools, and Thursday was clearly a big admissions day.  I watched group after group passing through the Plaza, touring the campus.  Blessings on their college decisions - I wonder how many of them will start in the fall.  Or perhaps these are juniors, visiting colleges so that they'll know where they want to apply next year.  CNU is so shiny and new; I would think it would be popular, though I understand there's a big debate going on about campus housing.  CNU students are required to live in on campus for their first three years, and not everyone is able to get the housing that they want or feel that they were promised.  So far the Canterbury students seem pleased with their housing for next year.

The work load is increasing as the final month of school starts.  Students are stressed, but they're delighted with the warmer weather.  All over the lawns I see them scattered with their books as they try to attend to their studies and enjoy some time outside.  For those of you who know me, you know that cherry trees are a particular favorite of mine.  Because peak bloom occurred over Holy Week and Easter this year in Washington D.C., I wasn't able to get up to the cherry blossom festival.  But for some reason, our trees are behind the DC trees this year, and they have peaked a week later.  Cherries abound on the CNU campus and lining the streets that lead into it.  Puffy white blossoms called me to them on the lawns of one of the residence halls.  I drew a branch down to my nose and breathed in their sweet fragrance.  One student sprawled on the green carpet of grass under the canopy of snowy branches.  I would probably have chosen the same spot.

There were some prayer requests Thursday and one request for help getting service hours.  The Presidential Leadership Program at CNU requires many hours of community service, and sometimes it can be hard to find places to get enough hours.  I was delighted to be able to connect a student with the St. Paul's Saturday lunch ministry that we've helped with before.  The student who first spoke to me at the prayer station is graduating this year.  He's also getting married in a month and has his senior recital for his music major next week.  He stopped by to check in and chat about a Dag Hammarskjold book he's reading.  It was great to reconnect with him and to wish him well on his exciting future.

Change is coming.  Winter rolls into spring as the baby leaves unfurl on the trees and bulbs burst into brilliant colors.  A yellow dusting of pollen coats my sign and shoes and probably the inside of my lungs after sitting outside for a few hours.  Seniors are getting ready to graduate and pack up and move out.  Underclassmen are trying to register and get the classes they need.  Student leadership is changing over as the older students turn their attention outward.  Everyone is busy as they pass through the Plaza on their way to classes, meetings, meals, studies, naps.  These are the days of the CNU lives as we sit in the shadow of the topiary...

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday was a full day.  I arrived at St. Stephen's for my weekly check-in, only to be greeted at my car by my rector, Scott, telling me not to come in to the building.  A sewage back-up in the basement of the parish hall, had made the building, including offices, uninhabitable.  Plumbers and water company people were on the scene, but there was no point in me spending time inside.  So I headed over to CNU and spent a little time in the campus coffee shop before setting up the prayer station.  It was a beautiful day but very windy.  The prayer station was quiet; students passing by were in a hurry to get to where they were going.  There was also an event on the other side of the student union from where I was sitting.  Pie the president.  I sneaked over after hearing loud cheers and saw students flinging pies at the faces of sorority and fraternity presidents.  I have witnessed this event before.  I think you pay a certain amount of money to have the honor of throwing the whipped cream pies.  I worried about one student passing by later in the afternoon until I realized that the white dripping down his face was from pie, not a wound. 

For Maundy Thursday I had planned a labyrinth walk.  I brought the SpiritWorks labyrinth, and a friend dropped by to help me set it up.  The wind made it a struggle.  Gusts ripped the canvas labyrinth out of our hands and almost blew it across the plaza.  I tried putting books down on the edges, but the wind tossed them in the air and blew the labyrinth back on top of itself. 
I got more and more frustrated, thinking that we wouldn't be able to set it up.  On my way inside for a pit stop, I noticed a pile of stones off to the side of the walkway.  I picked a couple up and set them on the edge of the canvas.  It was hard to know where to put them because the wind blew against any section not held down.  I left my friend standing on the labyrinth while I collected more rocks.  As I walked to the rock pit, I said, "Really, God, is this necessary?  Can't you do something about this wind?"  The answer I got back was, "I helped you find this pile of rocks."  Touché, God.  I smiled sheepishly.  The rocks were, indeed, a Godsend.  Once I had collected enough of them, they were able to hold the labyrinth in place for the most part.  Several people commented that the rocks gave it a monastic feel.  They thought it was an intentional aesthetic choice.

My first visitors were staff members from the Center for Academic Success.  They enjoyed walking the labyrinth and said they would recommend it to their students.  I explained how walking it can reduce stress.  They had seen my advertisement in the campus announcements.  Another staff person brought a couple of students out to walk it as well.  A number of students came and asked questions about it or thanked me for having it there, but they said they didn't have time to walk it.  A couple of students evidently thought it was a maze, as they stood nearby and used their eyes to traverse the path - when there were no dead ends or choices, they rolled their eyes and moved along.  Maybe they were looking for a challenge, not a clear path to the center.

Some of my favorite comments were the students who passed by and saw the "Happy Maundy Thursday" on the bottom of the sign.  "Maundy?" I heard them saying to one another.  "What's a Maundy?"  I saw a campus minister from another group explain it to one of his students.  When the Catholic Campus Ministry passed by on their way from Mass, they wished me a blessed Holy Week.  Nice to hear it.  The best, though, was when a small group of girls passed between me and the labyrinth.  "I think you're supposed to walk it slowly and take deep breaths or something," one of them said.  Another one replied, "We don't have time for that."  I laughed out loud, but they didn't have time to notice that either.  On their way they went.

When it came time to pack up, I texted one of the Canterbury students, and he came over to help me.  I knew I couldn't do it by myself in the wind.  Turns out, four other students saw us struggling to fold it up, and they ran over to help as well.  I have to say that the students on this campus are very gracious with their help.

The agapé meal at St. Stephen's had to be canceled, so we moved the whole service into the church.  I preached, we washed feet, we celebrated the Eucharist, and stripped and censed the altar.  It is one of my favorite services.  I love that the congregation gets to participate, if they so desire, and at least one person said that my sermon caused him to take part in the foot washing, which he had never done before.  It is a holy thing, that foot washing.  The person who washed my feet started saying, "This little piggy..." as she dried my toes.  It is sweet and humbling and funny and tender, all at the same time.  What a glorious privilege to be able to share an act so intimate.  I was grateful for a full day of meaningful ministry with students and parishioners and fellow human beings. 

Holy Tuesday

On Sunday I went to the nonviolent communication practice group that I attend once a month.  One of the members opened our session with the following poem by Langston Hughes:


Tired

I am so tired of waiting,

Aren’t you,

For the world to become good

And beautiful and kind?

Let us take a knife

And cut the world in two—

And see what worms are eating

At the rind.

It is Tuesday in Holy Week.  This morning I awoke safely in my house and, after showering and feeding the cats, went downstairs for centering prayer and morning reading.  Something caught my eye on Facebook.  "Praying for the people of Brussels."  Uh oh, I thought.  What has happened now?  I finished my prayer time and then turned on the news while eating breakfast.  There I saw why prayers are needed.  Another terrorist attack.  In Brussels.  Lord, have mercy.  May the souls of all the departed rest in peace.  Please bring comfort to their families and friends.

Yes, Langston, I am tired, too, of waiting for the world to become good, and beautiful and kind.  

Tonight I walked the labyrinth again.  This time in honor of Brussels.  I barely know where it is, and  I don't know anyone who lives there, though a dear friend lives nearby in the Netherlands.  But I remember what it was like on 9/11, and I weep for those who are devastated tonight.  "Now my soul is troubled," says Jesus in today's Gospel lesson from John.  I take it out of context, but I imagine that Jesus' soul is troubled by all the violence in our world.

What are the worms that are eating at the rind of our world?  How do we get them to stop?  

There was much beauty in my walk tonight:  delicate blooms on trees, gentle songs of birds, full moon rising opposite the setting sun.  It was hard to conceive of the tragedy happening across the ocean.  In the center I sang songs that I learned during summers at Camp Mikell - "By the waters of Babylon, we lay down and wept for thee Zion."  "Ruah Elohim."  Breath of God.  The wind was blowing, tugging tendrils of my hair out of its clip and into my face.  Tears lurked behind my eyes but did not fall.  I ended my singing with "Balm in Gilead."  Bring balm to the people of Brussels tonight, God.  

Be our strong rock, God, a castle to keep us safe.  You are our crag and our stronghold. 

Holy Monday

There's a chill in the air tonight as I walk slowly toward the labyrinth.  It's Monday in Holy Week, and I have decided to observe it at the labyrinth instead of in church.  Tonight's walk is not about exercise; it's about slowing down and connecting with God.  A contemplative walk.  My neck is in pain - I must have slept wrong last night - so I massage it as I walk.  When I get to the Easter State campus, I see a row of tall Bradford pear trees in full bloom.  I smell them, too, their not-quite-pleasant fragrance drifting my way on the wind.  When I arrive at the labyrinth, I see that the pears at three of its corners are also starting to bloom, although they are not as far along as the ones I first encountered.  The crape myrtles are still in hibernation, branches bare against the sky that is darkening into twilight.  Spring has begun, but it has not fully arrived.  Though it is chilly, I am grateful the weekend's cold rain mixed with snow has ended.

I walk counter-clockwise around the outside of the labyrinth before stopping at the entrance and bowing my head in prayer.  Take away my judgment, God.  Heal me from my judging thoughts and help me to be open and curious and compassionate.  I enter the labyrinth.  I wind my way along the path, moving closer and then further from the center, walking more slowly than usual.  Taking time.  At one point I imagine releasing my busy thoughts.  I breathe in peace.  I breathe out love.  I find myself wondering if the moon is full yet.  Easter is the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox.  It's almost as early as it can be this year, so the full moon must be soon.  The sun is headed to the horizon, but I can still feel its warmth on my face when I turn to the west. 

In the center I feel a deep stillness inside.  I stand with my eyes closed, facing the sun.  It bathes my face with tender, warm light.  Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  I start singing.  With each verse I turn to face a new direction.  I can't remember one of the verses, so I sing the first one twice.  When I am facing west again, I sing John Bell's, Take, O take me as I am, summon out what I shall be.  Set your seal upon my soul and live in me.  I decide that I want to walk the labyrinth every day this week if it is possible.  It has been my spiritual practice this past year.  What better way to connect with God?  Of course it may become difficult when it's not my day off, but for now that is my intention.

On the way back out, I notice a couple of cigarette butts in the cracks between the bricks.  I immediately begin an inner litany of judgment about why someone would even bother to walk the labyrinth while smoking and why they would choose to litter in the sacred space.  I know that several of the patients from the hospital have stashed packs of cigarettes in the concrete block walls near the labyrinth, so it really shouldn't be a surprise, but I hadn't thought that people smoked while walking.  Fairly quickly I realize how quickly I have jumped back into judging, so I try to shift my thinking to one of compassion for those who are addicted to cigarettes. 

As I follow the path I realize that I could bring a bag when I come back and pick up the cigarette butts that I see.  That could be my gift to this labyrinth that has nourished me all year.  Tending it, cleaning it, caring for it.  Just as Mary cared for Jesus by anointing his feet with oil and washing them with her hair in the reading from the lessons appointed for today. 

When I reach the entrance I pause for a moment before sealing the circle by walking clockwise around the labyrinth.  I notice other litter that I can pick up when I return.  The sun is below the trees now, and the air is getting cooler.  I pick up my jacket from where I had left it and head for home, stopping to look closely at the pear blossoms on my way.  As I am leaving the campus, I see the moon - almost full indeed.  My calendar says it will be full on the 23rd.  Maybe I can walk in the moonlight later in the week.  We'll see.  It's the beginning of Holy Week.  A good start.

Collect for Monday in Holy Week:

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.