The Contemplative Cottage

Mondays are for gratitude…counting to 1000 and beyond…

256.  A lovely almost-full moon shining in my window.

257.  Fabric and thread picked out by my little friend Jane  for me to make her a skirt.

258.  Fun twisty vine stitch in yummy pink.

259.  Finished…and for the smile on Jane’s face that could light a small city when I gave it to her after church. She promptly put it on and ran around the sanctuary.

260.  For the Liturgy of the Hours, a practice of daily prayer I go to when I am at a loss for how to begin or want to feel part of a greater rhythm of corporate prayer.  Even the simple ribbons marking the days remind me that all time is God’s.

261.  A Black-headed Grosbeak who frequently feasts at my feeder.

262.  For the artful brush of yellow just at the head of the wing.

263.  For the fountain pen my Mutti gave me, and a to-do list with a few more things crossed off.  And for my friend Terese, who also appreciates the importance of a good writing instrument.

267.  For the continued challenge of Proverbs 31 as I reflect on my life as a Christian woman.

For all the limits of language and all the ways it can be misunderstood, misinterpreted, and abused, Pentecost is a celebration of more than the Holy Spirit, but the Holy Spirit communicating the Good News through human language.  Even in the midst of the wind and flame, the behavior of the disciples was misinterpreted as drunkenness, but then the words began to sink in and people everywhere heard Gospel love in the language of  home–the cadences and rhythms that conveyed more than knowledge but familiarity and welcome.

Today celebrates when human speech, empowered by the Holy Spirit, becomes a sacrament of windy, fiery divine presence and empowerment.  Today calls everyone to speak the Good News of God’s love in ways that are understood by both mind and heart…

Pentecost calls us and enlivens us to speak with words that embrace each other with the welcome of home.

My posts have been sporadic these past two weeks as I immerse myself in writing my dissertation proposal: “The Role and Practice of Prayer in Theological Education.”  The first draft was completed on Monday night and now I am working through comments from my two readers.  I’m blessed to be working with both of them and for their encouragement of me as I’ve wrestled through the crucible of doctoral work.

My hope is to get into a daily blogging rhythm with a rotating weekly pattern.  For now, I will continue to share This Moment reflections, photos, snippets of reflections, and quotes.

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In the Celtic tradition, Philip Newell speaks of “listening to the heartbeat of God.”  John the Beloved Disciple heard the human blood pumping through Jesus as he rested his head on Jesus’ chest during the Last Supper. Such an image is so intimate, I almost want to shy away from envisioning it.  But, just as John, we are all invited into such deep intimacy with God.

Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent, the preparation time before Easter and an invitation to listen more deeply for God’s heart in and for the world.

Lent used to be a pruning time for me, giving up things I felt were unhealthy or distracting.  Now, I focus on cultivation–how can I feed what good seeds are already sprouting.  Certainly, weeds need to be removed, but sometimes it’s hard to know at first what is a weed and what is a young sprout.

The best fertilizer and water for God-planted seeds is joy–paying attention for it,  passing it along through little, fun gifts.  Weeds don’t tend to grow well on a steady diet of joy.

One of the ways I see and hear God’s heart is when a person’s face lights up with joy and laughs.  It’s musical and warms all who are near.

What are ways you can bring the light and music of joy into situations and relationships in your life during this season?

My two favorite feast days of the liturgical year are not big name celebrations.

Certainly, I get goosebumps hearing the first strains of “O come, O come Immanuel” or “Let all Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” each Advent.  Knowing that the palm branches so green the year before become cross-shaped soot smudged on my brow never ceases to quiet me, dust to dust.  And in turn, I wave those palms and wash feet and listen in morning darkness to the story of salvation across the centuries, and wear red for tongues of flame and gifts poured out.

All great and important days.

Yet two less known, not widely celebrated feasts fill me with simple, smiling delight.  The first is sometime around October 4th, St Francis Day.  All the animals get to come to church for a blessing.  Hamsters, cats, dogs, rabbits, birds. Or in rural areas… sheep, horses, chickens, goats, the whole peaceable kingdom come to worship.

“Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.  Your righteousness is like the might mountains, your judgments are like the great deep; you save humans and animals alike, O Lord.” Psalm 36:5-6

My other favorite day is…today.  Known by a number of names, Candlemas, or the Presentation, remembers Mary and Joseph bringing Jesus to the Temple to be offered in service to the Lord as a first-born son.  In Luke’s Gospel, the family is met by Simeon and Anna, who have both longed to see the Messiah:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you may now dismiss  your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.” Luke 2:29-32

In more liturgical churches, Candlemas is when all the candles set-aside for the coming year’s worship are blessed.  At St James Cathedral, Seattle, this is taken seriously: hundreds of creamy beeswax candles are stacked around the baptismal font, enfolding worshippers in their delicious honey fragrance. My mouth waters with the memory.

Although I’m no longer part of a community that celebrates Candlemas, today I light my morning candles with a prayer, honoring the Light which was foretold, birthed in the stable, held to Mary’s breast, blessed by Simeon and Anna, and presented to God in the Temple. Hope. Life. Love.

“The Word was first, the Word present to God, God present to the Word.  The Word was God, in readiness for God from day one. Everything was created through him; nothing—not one thing!— came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.” John 1:1-5