Happy Birthday, Paul L.

I had us sing 155 Northfield for you, including your "extra" verse:

How long, dear Savior, O how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swift around, ye wheels of time,
And bring the promised day.

His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From every weeping eye
And pains and groans and griefs and fears
And death itself shall die.

poetry: Isaac Watts; music: Jeremiah Ingalls

I know I'm a couple days late. Hope it was a lovely day.

Heart and Mind Prepared

Come regularly to Meeting for Worship, even when you are angry, tired, or spiritually cold. Bring your joys and your hurts, and the needs of other people. Accept and support each other in the community where God dwells among us. As you do so, you may find the grace of prayer...
[Query:] Do I come to Meeting with heart and mind prepared for worship?
Faith And Practice, Pacific Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends

I found myself in a funny state today. I am often taken with an inexplicable surge of affection for the people in my meeting community. I am also often taken with (to me, less inexplicable) surges of irritation. I think today might have been the first time I was overtaken with both, in nearly equal measure. Yesterday's retreat clarified my attachment and love for my meeting community, and also left me vulnerable to the ways both petty and profound that I can feel hurt by it. Is this how a crab feels when it molts?

And what does this have to do with being prepared, you may well ask. I'm not sure I know. I do know I often pray for an open heart, though clearly I don't know exactly what to do when my prayer is answered. I pray, too, that I am faithful, that we are faithful, especially when I find something arising within me or without that troubles me. I'm a little surprised when that prayer is answered, too, which I think is probably a little, well, faithless.

Nonetheless, today I got a bit closer to the way I'd like my Sundays to be. I made it to both meetings for worship, and heard God speaking in each. I did my nametag duty with a glad heart. I had lovely conversations that went beyond "so how ya doing?" with a couple of dear friends. I made time to call my aunt and some other folks I haven't seen in a while. I went for a walk in the cemetery. I even did laundry. Not a bad way to start another week.

Meeting Retreat

Yesterday was my meeting's sort-of-annual retreat. We invited a Friend from Friends General Conference's Traveling Ministries Program to conduct an inreach/outreach workshop with us.

I've been feeling for a while that it would be helpful to have a skillful facilitator from outside our meeting to work with us, and my experience of the retreat confirmed this feeling for me. The queries that we considered that I'll paraphrase here were not so different from ones we've considered in the past: What brought you to this Meeting? When do you feel valued in meeting? When do you feel distance? How do you contribute to a loving community? How does the meeting nurture a loving community? But there's something about having an outside person pose the questions, and then be available to sensitively monitor the group response, that takes us to a deeper place than we can usually get to on our own. I especially appreciated the way in which she negotiated moments of conflict/tension when they arose. I was sort of surprised that any conflict did arise, and I take it as a good sign that people felt comfortable enough to move past our "company manners." Elaine welcomed the conflict, amplified and reflected back to us the differing perspectives in the room, and kept the conversation open. One insight that she shared was particularly helpful for me: in any community, there are rare times when everything is in harmony, and times when one or more things are out of harmony. That tide of harmony, disharmony, and resolution is constantly shifting, and it's normal. What's problematic is when the conflicts get swept under the rug. It starts to get really lumpy under there, and we all start tripping all over the place!
We spent most of the afternoon considering Eight Essential Qualities of Healthy, Growing Churches, adapted from Natural Church Development by Christian Schwartz. If I get around to it, I may post more on these qualities. Right now, though, the one that has captured my attention is

Holistic Small Groups: In growing churches each person feels part of a loving community. This is done by integrating congregants, new and old, into small groups in which the meaning of terms like "loving relationships" can be practically expressed through the life of the group. Members and attenders need a place where they can raise issues of immediate personal concern.

Elaine spent a lot of time on this idea with us. She explained that new people who come to meeting encounter a web of relationships. New small groups allow new relationships to form, and put everyone on more equal footing. She emphasized that the small groups don't need to be overtly spiritual: any passionate interest can be the seed of a new small group. This discussion brought up an important query for me: what might we need to let go of? Many people in meeting remember a time when the hiking group was a vibrant part of the life of the meeting. I was one of the Friends that tried to revive it. My mistake was to try to take on the passion of another-- with the probably predictable result that a fair amount of time was spent discussing how "things sure aren't like they used to be!" A vital group has to come from current passions and interests, not remembrances of things past.

As is often the case with such events, I had to force myself to go in the morning. I had a case of the grouchies for sure: why does it have to be all day? On a Saturday? At 8:30? Why isn't so-and-so here? I'm cold! I had to laugh at myself as I slowly discovered that I was having a good time! I'm grateful to the retreat committee for organizing this retreat, and for all the people who were able to come.

Sacred Harp 30b 'Prospect'

Here's a quick clip from the Michiana sing in Goshen from this past July.

Going to a Singing

I can't believe we're actually in Portland! I have been after Terry for over a year to drive together to a singing. She finally said yes! So Terry, Natalia, and I all piled into my Prius and off we went.
Driving brought its own adventures: it is a LONG way to Portland. But Terry, bless her, drove through the worst of the rain, and even Natalia drove for an hour or so (we picked out a nice calm stretch with not too many cars or too many curves). I passed the time as a passenger knitting a new scarf with ribbon yarn, and eating. Natalia and I brought enough food for an army, the best of which was the homemade bread and flourless chocolate cake that Natalia brought.
Despite the rain, the drive was really pretty once we got North of Sacramento. Even the rest stops were pretty. At one such stop, Natalia pointed out the universe of moss and lichen on the tree trunks. Sadly, I didn't think to dig out my camera...
It was about 9 when we finally rolled into Portland. We made it to the social in time to sing for 30 minutes or so. What a delight to walk into a room filled with the sound of a favorite song, and just join right in.

Visiting the Twin Cities and Chicago

I had a brief day and a half in the Twin Cities. After a week in the dorms, having a hotel room complete with private bath seemed like a palace. Karen and I got a ride earlier than we expected, so I had enough time to see the Walker on Saturday. The Picasso exhibit was quite interesting, particularly seeing the maquette of the sculpture that I got to see in Chicago. I was also enchanted by the sculpture garden, particularly Stonebridge and Cherry. I hadn’t realized when I looked at pictures before I went that the whole thing is a fountain!

I had a lovely Sunday in St. Paul. I arrived for the 11 a.m. worship, having completely forgotten that I had told Paul my original plan to go to the early worship so that I could go to the Walker between meeting and singing (sorry, Paul). It was a lovely meeting for worship, in any case. Then Paul took me home with him. I got to meet his kids and the cats, though sadly I missed meeting Lovely Wife who was out of town. He made us a simple lunch, we went for a walk by the Mississippi River, and we sat on their porch and watched a thunderstorm and talked until it was time to go to the singing at St. Sahag’s.

The singing at St. Sahag’s was marvelous—the church has a great sound, and there were at least 40 strong singers present. It was a relief to just sit in the back and sing—and not be responsible for anything! I was pleased to realize that in addition to knowing Paul and Gerry (another Twin Cities Friend), I also knew Steven Levine and Paul Wilson. I had met both of them at singings in California.
I took the train the next day for Chicago, finishing the Empire Builder route. I arrived to find that the private hostel room I had reserved smelled kind of funny and had no air conditioning. I really need to accept that I am not the sort of person that enjoys staying in hostels. Anyway, I took a long walk in the rain and found a hotel that I absolutely loved: The Inn at Lincoln Park. It wasn’t grand by hotel standards or anything, but compared to the hostel... Once settled, I headed out for blues and dinner. I was so exhausted, I can’t say I got my money’s worth from the cover charge, but I did enjoy my visit to Kingston Mines.

I took a Chicago Architecture Foundation tour on the Chicago River on Tuesday before I took the train to Princeton to meet Katie and Dan. This is the one time Amtrak let me down- several delays had me worried that I would have to turn around as soon as I got there. But it all worked out fine. We got to the restaurant where we were celebrating Dan’s birthday a bit early, so I got to talk with just them for a while before their friends arrived. Then I got to meet their friends and enjoy pretty decent Mexican food together. It turns out my train was late getting in, so we had a bit longer to talk before I headed off.

I really enjoyed the Art Institute. I felt rather dazzled by the impressionist rooms, as if I had walked into a jewel box. I was entertained by Millenium Park. I loved the fountain and the jellybean sculpture (properly known as Cloud Gate).

I had a blast in at the Notabaert Nature Museum, particularly in the butterfly house. I liked the zoo, and especially enjoyed the conservatory.
I got to go to the Hyde Park singing on Thursday. Carolyn had very kindly put me in touch with Ted Mercer so that I could get a ride there. Ted was incredibly welcoming. He kept introducing me to everyone, and prompted me to tell everyone the names of the folks I sing with in Berkeley that had come from Chicago. They even afforded me the honor of the last song before the closing song, so I led 229 Irwinton. Again, I expected to only know Ted, and so was surprised to see two people I had met this winter at the Harmonia Sacra singing, Ginny Landgraf and Jim Helke. It also turned out that many of these folks were coming to sing in Goshen, Indiana and in Michigan, so I got to see them again.

FGC Gathering

I was probably the most selective about Gathering activities this year than I have ever been. Partly I began to plan life around getting to the dining hall at the calmest time possible. As that conflicted with a lot of scheduled activities that I might have otherwise attended, I had a pretty low-key time. Mostly what mattered to me was singing, knitting, deepening friendships and meeting new people.

I spent a lot of time wandering the campus and some time in the town of River Falls. It was good to spend so much time walking and birding, two things that began to fall out of my routine in the hectic months of May and June. It was nice to see cardinals and catbirds, as we don’t have them in California.
I had a great time in my workshop this year. I took Paul L’s and Carol Crawford’s workshop on Sacred Harp singing (surprise, surprise). They did a lovely job. I had a funny conversation with another participant who had taken the workshop last year. She basically wanted to know why I was taking the workshop, since I already know how to sing Sacred Harp. I told her how I really love the chance to sing all the parts to the songs—it makes even the songs I know well seem new, and gives me a chance to practice sight reading. And with repeated exposure, the rudiments of music are slowly seeping in. I also know that it helps new singers if some more experienced singers are there, too. Plus, if I wasn’t in that workshop, I’d be wishing I was singing anyway. So why fight it?

The afternoon Sacred Harp singings seem to be getting better every year. Having a good singing space really helps, and I think more Quakers are learning to sing. Partly I enjoy these afternoons more because I know more people, so the singing starts to take on a bit of the same sense of community that a local singing can have. You build up a sense of the types of songs individual leaders are fond of, their quirks and humor, sometimes a sense of the joys or burdens they carry. I was moved to tears by the memorial Robert Sullivan gave of Hibbard Thatcher. He led 542b Martin in his honor, which I hadn’t heard before. I was also moved when Carl led 86 Poland as a prayer for a Friend who is dying. It’s a song that gets called a lot at home, and I had grown a bit tired of it. But hearing Carl speak about the courage of this Friend helped me hear the song in a new way.
It was great fun to celebrate my birthday at Gathering, as well. During workshop that morning, I was fiddling with my knitting and only half paying attention to the rudiments lesson, so I missed that we were singing Happy Birthday in shapenotes. It came as a complete surprise when Paul asked the class to sing it again with the words, and for the name to say “dear Linda.” Then he taught the class each part of 68b Ortonville, and asked me to come lead it. We gathered after singing for cupcakes. Everyone from my meeting made it, as well as singing friends, folks I knew from the trip to Alaska, and others I’ve met at various Quaker functions over time. Lovely, lovely.

The Rivers of Sorrow Shall Not Overflow

I led Bellevue tonight at my local singing. I became fascinated with it at Goshen, when Syble Adams and Claudine Townsend led it very slowly in four. We usually sing this at quite a clip, which is a great way to sing it. But I really appreciated the stately quality of the slower tempo and wanted to try to lead it that way at home. As I was leading, I found myself really taken by this verse:

"When through the deep waters I call thee to go
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.”
From Bellevue (72b)

There’s a lot going on right now for many folks I hold dear. Several friends have lost close family members, are grieving the losses of relationships, experiencing illness themselves or that of those they love. There is much to hold in the Light. I find this verse so comforting, the idea that though there are rivers of sorrow, they will not overflow and be too much to bear. May we all feel our distress sanctified and feel the presence of God in our time of need. May we be the hands and ears of God for those among us who are suffering.

It's good to be home...I think

I'm finally home, after 3 weeks away. I've visited 5 states and traveled through several more; attended FGC Gathering, 2 local singings and two all-day singings; and done lots of sight seeing in the Twin Cities and Chicago. All of this was by train: Coast Starlight, Empire Builder, California Zephyr, Carl Sandburg, and the Wolverine. With few exceptions, I encountered lovely weather and lovelier people.

The cat was relatively sane when I arrived home: she meowed plaintively, but she didn't hiss at me once. Now she meows rather frantically if I leave the room for more than five minutes, but other than that, she's back to normal. She has managed to cover the entire house with her fur.

On the positive side, my mountain of mail included a birthday present of homemade cards from my Aunt; a card from Anna, a young friend from Gathering; a postcard from Catherine L., whom I just missed in the Twin Cities; and the knitting needles that I lent Kendra at Gathering (she wanted a pair so that she could teach her son how to knit on the train ride back).

I'm pretty tired, and not entirely ready to be back to the everyday joys of paying bills, working for a living, washing dishes and cleaning the house. I was definitely ready to not be in motion for a while, so being awakened by the 4 point something earthquake at 4:40 this morning seemed rather unwelcoming. The cat was not amused, either. Clearly, I'm not in the Midwest anymore.

I have grandiose plans for a series of posts about my travels. We'll see how that goes.

You're Invited

I don't know how many Gathering attendees are checking in with the blogs. But if you're reading this, and you're here, you are invited to my birthday party. Drop by between 5:15-6:45 on Thursday, July 5th. We'll be at the picnic tables between the University Center and the library (we'll try for the tables outside of the entrance to the dining area if the weather is uncooperative). Leave me a note on the message board if you're coming, so I can get enough cupcakes.

Reasons to take the Train

I've resolved to take the train when traveling instead of flying, especially when I'm traveling on winter or summer break. Here's why it's no sacrifice:

• No one pats you down, paws through your belongings, or makes you take off your shoes when you get off the train.



• I can take my knitting needles and scissors and no one cares.



• I sleep well on a train (at least in a sleeper). I don't even sleep well at home, so this is a big deal.



• I can see where I am. Often the scenery is beautiful, and even when it's not, it's usually at least interesting.



• No middle seats. I can knit without continuously bumping the person next to me.



• Good food in the dining car and/or less strict baggage limits mean you can take a cooler with your favorite food.



• You meet interesting people in the observation car and over meals, but you aren't trapped next to them for hours on end like on a plane.



• Wine and cheese tasting for sleeper car passengers-- and no one has to be the designated driver!



• You can walk around.



• It's less noisy than planes or buses, and less motion-sickness inducing.



• Train stations are generally less chaotic than airports.



• Enforced relaxation: no chores, no work, nothing to do but read, visit, eat, sleep, listen to music, and watch the world go by.

Reduced Energy, Increased Light

We had a thought-provoking session after meeting for worship last week. Karen Street has been facilitating monthly sessions on climate change. At the latest session, those of us who had turned in at least some data got individual printouts that showed our personal carbon emissions. It also compared us with the average person in meeting, in the Bay Area, in California, and in the US. We spent some time considering if we could individually commit to reducing our emissions by 10%, and what sort of minute we'd like to see proposed at Pacific Yearly Meeting.

I find committing to 10% reduction to be problematic, in that I have no idea what numeric impact my actions would make. For me, committing to specific, useful actions makes more sense. I'm writing about these in part to keep myself accountable. It's so easy to let things slip. I also hope that I'm not alone, that there's a community of folk somewhere in the middle between the environmentally pure and the environmentally, er, disinterested, and that we can help each other out.

So, what I am committed to continuing or starting:
Reduced home energy use. This is to be accomplished by turning things off when I'm not using them (I really should be better at this than I am), taking short showers rather than ones that drain the hot water tank, and hanging the wash during the warmer months. In the winter, I wear a lot of clothes to delay putting on the heat as long as I can. And it's a nice incentive to think that not only is reading better for my brain than TV, but it uses less energy! I'm not saying I'm giving up TV. I like TV. It enables me to get a lot of knitting done. But I'm trying to be a bit more mindful about flipping on the tube.

A minimum of one car-free day a week. I've been doing this for a while now. If I don't manage one week, I try to make it up the next. This should include taking the bus to meeting, but I am not managing to get out of the house early enough these days. This is probably a sign that I am too busy.

Increased carpooling. Now that I have a Prius, I volunteer for carpool driving duty a lot more than I used to. My goal for the next school year is to carpool at least once a week to work. I also plan to start a work contact list to facilitate both carpooling and communication in general.

Reduced air travel. I typically take one or two East coast round-trips a year, plus one or two shorter trips. I'm not saying I won't fly again, but I plan to do most of my travel by Amtrak. If I can't manage round trip on the train, I'll at least aim for it in one direction.

More thoughtful consumption. This is the hardest area for me. I am definitely not a plain Friend. I love new clothes, I adore shopping, I like new toys. I really do. I have a hard time separating frugality from deprivation, so I tend to alternate brief periods of tightfistedness with longer bouts of mindless spending. I rarely have a clue about how much is enough. I'm trying to retrain myself, both for economic and environmental reasons. I try to do most of my grocery shopping at the farmer's market, and limit my trips to Trader Joe's to once a month. I throw away the clothing catalogs after I've looked at them. If there's something I really want, it's there online. I try to only see movies in theaters and eat meals out with friends. I enjoy free "shopping sprees" at the library and at Children's Book Project (free books for kids at my school!).

Carriers of Hope

A message moved me last week in meeting. A Friend spoke of how important it was to her to have people in her life that could carry hope for her when she herself could not. I've been musing off and on all week about those who carry hope for me.

A few years ago, a Friend addressed the Plenary session at Pacific Yearly Meeting. She spoke of how we cared for one another in a monthly meeting, that we "carried water for each other." Sometimes this water carrying is practical: we make food for the sick and bereaved, take a friend to a doctor's appointment, help someone move. But sometimes, the water carried is less tangible in nature, but no less real. At our best, we carry love, compassion, faithfulness and hope for those of us who can't, until we can again.

I don't think this is limited to a Quaker meeting. I find my "sure support against despair" among friends and colleagues, in nature, in the many communities I am fortunate to belong to. May I also carry hope for those around me when they struggle to find the Light.

QuakerQuaker Celebration

Chris M. is hosting a blog carnival at his site to celebrate the work of Martin Kelley. It was through QuakerQuaker that I initially found most of the Quaker blogs that I read on a regular basis. When I first started going to meeting, I was nonplussed by the disconnect I felt between the often profound experience I had of worship and the rather shallow talk over refreshments after meeting. Over time I’ve found ways to have deeper conversations with folks in my meeting. But the Quaker blogosphere provides the opportunity to have more such conversations, and to feel connected to other Quakers in a variety of meetings.

Golden Gate 07

I’m home now from the third annual Golden Gate Singing, tired but in a good way. It was my first time being secretary, meaning I kept a list of all the songs and leaders. It’s not that hard and I did like doing it, but it meant constant responsibility. It helped when I finally figured out that, as I was not sitting on the front bench, I did not need to sing the shapes for every song or beat time through each song. And the man next to me kindly shared his book so I didn’t have to juggle my own book, the registration cards, and my clipboard back and forth. It occurs to me that in order to completely relax and enjoy a singing, I’m going to have to travel.
My heart is full of the small sweet details that make each singing just a bit different than the others:

• this cake (Okay, Natalia, I concede that the cake pictured above may be Sacred Harp dorkiness, but it is aesthetically pleasing sacred harp dorkiness.)


• meeting the lovely woman from Eugene who was knitting a Fair Isle sweater from wool she had dyed and spun herself


• listening to Greg and friends playing and singing folk songs between the singing and the social


• getting to spend time with my friend Catherine L., who brought her delicious fudge for the potluck


• Susan’s ingenious “food tags”: as food maven, she had us fill out little forms to tape to our dishes with our names and if it was vegan, vegetarian, or “flexitarian”


• Carolyn’s red velvet cake and Natalia’s corn pudding


• seeing everyone in their Sunday best


• baby Oliver


• not spilling anything on my white shirt


• conversations in the car with Will and Inder, as well as having their navigational assistance


• knowing enough songs that my nose wasn’t buried in the book


• getting to sit next to Betty for the first time in a while, as she rarely sings tenor these days

One aspect of the singing deserves much more than a bullet point, and that was the post-singing social that Philip hosted. I think his home is the most beautiful I’ve ever visited. I nestled into one of the couches and soaked in the art, the view of the garden, the candlelight. I had a series of conversations that went beyond the ordinary party chatter, and I credit the gracious and inviting atmosphere.

Over lunch, someone asked me what I thought the draw was to Sacred Harp singing, and I punted the answer, saying something inane about how I loved the sound. A truer answer would have been, “it’s one place I hear God.” It’s an interesting parallel to Quaker meeting, where we gather in silence in expectant waiting for God to be present with us and to speak through us. In a singing, we gather to produce a virtual wall of sound, and eventually, our tongues break out in unknown strains and sing surprising grace.

More pics at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fasola4mi/

The Pleasures of Spring Break...

...seem distant already. Before they fade away entirely, here's what I did:

Friday night
dinner with folks from work
conversation with a friend
knitting and a movie (I think. Little hazy on the movie part.)


Saturday
farmers market: a gorgeous bunch of orange and pink ranuncula; dandelion greens, rapini, green garlic, carrots, pink lady apples, and red, gold, and pink beets
Oakland Museum-- 100 Families: Art and Social Change
Museum of Children’s Art (MOChA): Art in Open Court
NAP (because I walked to the museums)

Sunday
greeter for meeting for worship
business meeting
hours at the Article Pract sale, resulting in not a single purchase

Monday
essays for continuing ed. class
cooking all the beautiful farmers market produce: carrot top soup, braise of fava beans, green garlic, beets, fennel, radishes, carrots, and sugar snap peas
singing

Tuesday
Lakeshore Café breakfast
Rockridge library
Tango Gelato
Piedmont library-- because happiness is two libraries in one day
movies

Wednesday
eye doctor
dentist
NAP

Thursday
no Gilroy gardens-- too cold
Flipper's for brunch
Montclair yarn store-- again buying nothing
shopping: trader joes, lenscrafters, shoe pavilion; Michaels for yarn-- third time's the charm, and I succumb to yarn for an afghan, needles, and two knitting books

Friday
breakfast with friend at Lynn and Lu's
ill-fated Stanford trip (45 minutes searching for parking that didn't require change that I didn't have)

Saturday
copy store
library (yes, again)
farmers market
knitting with Natalia, who has both a very cool cable scarf and blue stockings in the works

Sunday
knitting
MFW

Books read: Year of Wonders: a Novel of the Plague; the way we talk now (started), Geoffrey Nunberg; The Fallen, T. Jefferson Parker; Portuguese Irregular Verbs, Alexander McCall Smith; The Summer Snow, Rebecca Pawel

Movies watched: A Good Year; Angel Rodriguez (I think I fell asleep); Friends with Money (again, I remember the beginning, but not the end-- I suspect dozing); The Brothers McMullen: Art School Confidential

Knitting:
cast off charity blanket; began rowan tapestry scarf
Knitting books read/browsed:
2 issues of Creative knitting magazine; Mason-Dixon knitting; Exquisite Little Knits; Speed Knitting; mindful knitting

Chores completed:
many piles of dishes
4 loads of laundry
bills paid
cooking: pasta, vegetable braise; greens; beets;
living room cleaned
dining room table cleaned

Chores avoided:
clean bathroom, mop floor, clean office, clean closet, clean entry way; put away laundry

Show Pity, Lord

I've been struggling with what to do for the coming school year. I thought for a while that I might be teaching reading to 4th and 5th grade students who are significantly below grade level. Then I had some interactions with our third and fourth graders that made me doubt I could handle them en masse. But when I thought about continuing as a reading coach, all I could think about is how much I ache to have my own group of students. Then I thought I might teach first grade, but was surprised to find myself in the midst of facilitating a grade level meeting, thinking "I don't want to leave this, just when we're starting to get somewhere."

All of this has made me a wreck. I know I'm losing it when I start losing things. Important, useful things that normally I don't lose. Like I lost my calendar on Sunday and found it on Monday; lost my lunch bag on Tuesday, found it today... Not to mention insomnia and barely averted accidents while driving. I should say that I know in my head that I just need to be patient, that I will have the information I need in time to make my decisions and meet all the deadlines for paperwork. I know that having a hissy fit because the copier jams will not make the copier work any better. I even know that getting frustrated with people for being true to character is a waste of energy. None of this is particularly reassuring. Rather, I just feel like an idiot for being so nutty.

I was sitting in meeting this Sunday, not really able to settle mentally, barely able to sit still. In between all my intruding thoughts, I did my best to pray for peace, for an open heart, that I might be faithful. Most of the meeting was silent, which I often find a blessing. But I couldn't settle enough to feel connected to God or humanity. The silence was just an opportunity for all my worries to gnaw at me. Then there was a message that wasn't so helpful to me and I half started to wonder why I hadn't stayed home. But at last there was some ministry that particularly spoke to my condition. Part of that message was that we ought not to worry so much about what to do, but instead to worry more about who we are and bring forth the unique gifts given us. I'm not sure exactly why I found this to be so moving. It's not a new idea to me. "Do what you are given to do" is a recurring message that comes to me when I start fretting. But I think I needed to hear the reminder of the abundance of grace. There is enough Light in all the world, and our work is to bring forth our own and encourage others to do the same. I think, too, that I needed to feel the presence of God, some "sure support against despair."

Cusseta
Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive;
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in Thee?

My crimes, though great, cannot surpass
The pow'r and glory of Thy grace;
Great God, Thy nature hath no bound;
So let Thy pard'ning love be found.

Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,
Whose hope still hov'ring round Thy word
Would light on some sweet promise there,
Some sure support against despair.

lyrics: Erhart Hegenwalt, 1524; J.C. Jacabi, 1722
music: John Massengale, 1844

I've been drawn a lot to these kind of "forgive me, Lord" lyrics lately. I don't think I'm much of a wretch, and I'm always suspicious of self-flagellation. But still these words move me. My "sin" is that I lose faith so easily, start casting about trying to control what is not mine to control. And I know it, but can't help sometimes but to do it anyway. All I can do is be grateful when grace manages to break through my storming thoughts.

Strong in Faith, in Love, in Hope

I'm just back from the All-California Convention, and my ears are still ringing. The song that has hold of me, though, isn't one we sang there. Sometimes I need to shout down my fear, sometimes I need to voice praise and thanks, other times I need to join my dead. Right now, what I need most is a sweet song that makes me feel held by God:

from Gainsville

Lord, we come before Thee now,
At thy feet we humbly bow;
O do not our suit disdain;
Shall we seek Thee, Lord, in vain?

Lord, on Thee our souls depend;
In compasion now descend;
Fill our hearts with Thy rich grace,
Tune our lips to sing Thy praise.

Comfort those who weep and mourn;
Let the time of joy return;
Those who are cast down lift up,
Strong in faith, in love, and hope.

Grant that all may seek and find
Thee a god supremely kind;
Heal the sick, the captive free,
Let us all rejoice in Thee.

poetry: William Hammond 1745
music: W.D. Jones 1869