The Yearly Round

Since 2010, I've been minister of Christian Education and Worship at our church, Lorraine Avenue Mennonite Church.  I am still humbled and very thankful for the way this position came to be, and I feel tremendously blessed to be able to fulfill most of the obligations for this 1/4 time position from my home with my husband and children.

I also feel thankful for the times this work allows me to be off on my own for a few hours!

Since my previous paid employment involved ministry with elders, the learning curve in this "new" position has been steep.  I love children, but I have so, so, so very much to learn about ministry with kids and families.  Goodness, I have so very much to learn just about being present with my own to children.

I had a wonderful time creating this squared circle today.  Yesterday was Candlemas or Imbolc, and we will observe it as a church group this coming Wednesday when our Wednesday evening programming starts up again.  Ah...This quiet month of January has been a real gift.

I feel vulnerable putting my drawings out for all to see.  I don't draw often, but I loved decorating and illuminating papers, t-shirts, books, etc. as a young person.  When I find the time it is something I still enjoy.

I guess another thing about me is that I a.d.o.r.e. opportunities to create mandalas of meaning for myself and, with this one, hopefully some in my church family.  The feasts and observances in this wheel are not all observed at church.  Many of them are my own personal feasts, or feasts my family and I have shared with friends.

Since childhood I've had a strong desire to sacramentalize (?) my time.  To dedicate it in intentional ways.  I love the support for doing so that I find in the various communities I'm part of.

Blessings to all as we circle through the year.  If you're a Rudolf Steiner fan, you'll notice that I'm (probably) heavily, but indirectly, influenced by him.  Much of this stuff is just so instinctive, don't you think?

on mystery, revolution and the goddess who mothers

Today I had the privilege of hearing Bess Klassen Landis share about her experience being the daughter of a woman who was brutally murdered before the age of 42.  Bess was thirteen at the time.

Stories like that aren't soon forgotten, especially when they are told by individuals who speak from a deep place of peace and surrender, as Bess did.  As I reflect on Bess's story, the songs with which she accompanied it, and the blessing that led into the silence that followed her sharing, my heart is summoned yet again to heed its job and calling:  to be true to the life I've been given, to let my life speak, to take the business of my humanity seriously and lightly at the same time.

I also had the privilege of sitting face-to-face with my mother this morning after Bess's sermon.  We don't go to church together, so I seldom see her on Sundays.  These days, I'm more mindful than ever of the ways I resemble her:  the gifts I bear that are like hers, the gifts I bear that are different from her own, and the genes within me that came from her.  My way of being in the world is both like hers and different from hers.

Ach!  I'm not remembering the truth of what I wanted to say as accurately now, after the fact, as I was when I was thinking these thoughts of profundity three or more hours ago.  Suffice it to say, as a forty-year-old woman, I take the call to live my life more seriously than I did ten and twenty and twenty-five years ago.  Time is fleeting.  It's true.  Now is the time to live intentionally and do the things I want to do.

And playing magnets with a certain adorable girl (after changing her diaper) is first on the to-do list.

Oh!  And the goddess and revolution thoughts:  I was conscious of a mothering presence--the goddess--sitting near me today as I reflected on Bess's words and my own experience of them.  She is ever-near, and I struggle to find the words to describe her salty, grassy, dry and wet greatness.  So that's the mystery, too.  And the revolution?  Well, it's just trying to claim the days as sacred, recognizing that they certainly, certainly are.

Candlemas

Today is Candlemas, and it's fair and bright here, so I guess winter will have another flight. About this time of year three years ago, I began this blog.

I like what Waverly Fitzgerald has to say about the day here and here.

I do so desire to live out the seasons of the year. For one, it seems to me that we were just born to do it, so why not?

On Candlemas, Waverly pledges to undertake some activity that will nurture her spiritual and/or creative self. She sees it as the true beginning of the new year. I like that, too. January, then, is kind of a warm-up for the new year that is to come. We get forty days after solstice and Christmas to let the Incarnation and the returning of the light settle in, take down the decorations, show the baby at the temple, so to speak (The Feast of the Presentation of the Lord), and then begin a new year.

This year I am working on flexibility. I notice in myself less physical flexibility than I used to have. To the end of increasing my flexibility, I intend to practice (almost daily) just one yoga position, one I learned in a Kripalu class years ago: the seated spinal twist, also known as the posture of perpetual youth :).

I also want to keep spiritually flexible, but that is a topic for another time.

A blessed Candlemas or Imbolc to all!

new energy for this blog

And now let me tell you something else. I am happy! Yes, I truly and surely am. I could say so many things about why, but what I wish to talk about in this one-more-post for the day is that I am finding energy to want to return to this blog--not that there is any mandate other than my own for doing so, but that it brings me joy to do so. I am ready to reconnect with the identity that began unfolding here a couple years ago and use the blog to reconnect with bloggers I enjoy knowing online.

My body, mind and soul can't afford to let this pastime fill too much of my life, but keeping my blog has been a life-giving outlet. Hooray for me!

To celebrate this inner shift, I bought myself tulips this evening. My favorite kind--red with yellow tinges. Our home is messy, and I have a deep longing to get it into a cleaner state by Candlemas/Imbolc. That said, I am enjoying a reconfiguration of some of its spaces. Here are two of them that I'm enjoying right now.

Anna Kate is one!

Someone we love turned one on February 28.
To help celebrate, Aunt Libby made a keepsake birthday crown.

Grandma Baumgartner made chocolate cake with seven-minute frosting.

Grandma Ewy composed a special birthday song
(but I'm not showing you Grandma Ewy because she's making a funny face and would be cross with me if I showed it even though it's sweet).

Big brother Henry helped blow out the candle.

Anna ate the cake with unprecedented daintiness.
And Daddy stood behind the camera to take pictures.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANNA KATE!
You are one year old!

At one year, Anna is standing by herself; refraining from eating pennies and dimes that she shakes out of Henry's bank and puts back in the correct slot; saying all sorts of words like, "ball," "uh-oh," "dog," "Boy Blue" (says Grandpa Baumgartner), clock, and other new words every day. She is sociable, persistent and adoring. She has begun calling Henry "Heh," and celebrates her new accomplishments with smiles of satisfaction. She seemed bewildered as she opened all those presents. What was all that paper stuff on the floor in front of her? The next day, though, she woke up acting older, as if she knew something special and transformative had happened.

This year has flown by. We are so very glad she is here with us.

February 14

purification

I celebrated Candlemas with women friends last Sunday. One of the words we contemplated was purification, a concept I haven't historically been overly fond of. The whole pure/impure dichotomy has tended to leave me feeling flat. Who is pure? Who is impure? Aren't we always a little of both?

Jesus talked a lot about that sort of thing. Wheat and chaff. His mother and father went to the temple 40 days after he was born, when Mary was once again, "pure," so they could receive a blessing for their son.

Candlemas is an observance of the purification of Mary, among other things. How are we like her? How am I like her? She has been important to me for a long time now, even though I can't articulate exactly why. Doesn't matter. It's deep, limbic stuff that I'm happy to feel and not explain.

So, when I sang this verse from Fred Pratt Green's "Whom shall I send?" in church this morning, I took it as a divine sign that everything's gonna be all right...one way or another.

Those who are called God purifies,
and daily gives us strength to bend
our thoughts, our skills, our energies
and life itself to this one end.

I'm losing my job, my lovely 1/4 time job, in three weeks. In painfully diplomatic language, I was told I could apply for the position full-time or say good-bye. My dear co-worker and I are electing to say good-bye. Neither one of us could take it on full time. Nor could the third dear chaplain who joined us after my Anna was born.

I pray for God to give me daily strength to bend my thoughts, my skills, my energies, my life itself, to the end of work/life balance.

Full-time chaplaincy while mothering small children has not provided that kind of balance for our family.

Here's my trusting surrender to what is to come. Light a candle. Say a prayer for our family. We have options and ideas, but the future is unlit. Thank you!

Christmas, good bye

I loved that tree. I love keeping Advent and Christmas. I love it that it is (reportedly) Henry's favorite time of year. I love it that there's a squared circle on the book on the piano in this photo. Did you notice it? I loved decorating our tree. I loved venturing out in the cold to get it. I loved it that Joel spotted it right off. I loved watching him saw it down and carry it away. I loved singing the little I could remember of "O Tannenbaum" while he sawed it. I loved watching Henry and Noah hike around the hill while we searched. I loved celebrating winter solstice by laying a spiral with cedar boughs that same evening.

If only I loved the rest of winter as much as I love Christmas. Now is the hard part. The days are getting longer, but I'm tired of layering up to go outside. Putting Anna in all her gear; making sure Henry has clothing that he hasn't thought to bring, but might want later.

But, now is the time we have. Now is the time I have. I can be thankful for it.

eight months

Someone sweet turned eight months old yesterday. Henry said we should try not to let her cry too much (because it was her eight month birthday day). Well, she's looking pretty happy here.

Miquon Math (which you can't see us doing here) is fun. We have abandoned Five in a Row. It is a neat concept, but isn't suiting the way we learn, which is to go with the flow, but keep practicing reading and writing. Thanks to Becky's suggestion, we're reading The Secret Garden now, and enjoying it. I savor the way Mary talks about growing fat. It's a good thing, borne of fresh air and plenty of sunshine and play. Here are our jack o'lanterns.

my first Michaelmas

The autumn wind blows open the gate, O Michael, you, you we await.
We follow you, show us the way. With joy we greet the autumn day.

Firmly on the earth I stand, Michael's sword within my hand.
When I conquer fear the dragon's chains I tightly bind, Michael's light within my mind.

What a thrilling thing, to be involved in a procession and play planned for children and adults alike by Leeala. We welcomed autumn with song and drama. A dragon (with a cerveza cabeza, says Joel) was fought, then bound. Stick swords were wielded. A festive meal was enjoyed. See the sidebar for a photo of Erin's stunning dragon bread and some other photos taken by Erin. Thanks to Cheryl for the photos in this post.

a summer afternoon

Saturday afternoon was warm and fair...one of our first long afternoons in the back yard sun and shade. I thought my children were not able to fall asleep without parental support, but Anna is content as can be outside staring up into the sky and branches. She lay on her lambskin for an hour, gazing and sleeping, while I planted some seeds and tended to some of her brother's needs.What a gift she gave us (and herself). It was a lovely afternoon.

blessings

A few days after my last post women gathered at our house for a belated Candlemas / Imbolc birth blessing led by Jen and Yolanda. Here are some of the beautiful images they painted on my belly.One of the evening's rituals included planting birthing blessings into the soil in this bowl. A week or so later, I planted nasturtium seeds in amongst the blessings.

six years old

On December 27 our family system gathered to celebrate Henry's sixth full year as an out-of-the-womb participant in our solar system.

The theme of the cake was out-of-our solar system.

Here's to a fine six-year-old ready to serve the world!

Christmastide 2008

This Christmas I contemplated saving graces and well-loved images from long ago

and icons of new hope for our time--thanks to you, Aunt Lib.
Barack, don't mean to put too much pressure on you!
You don't have to be super-human;
just please be decent and we'll be so very proud of you.

Epiphanies were experienced along the way

in the form of beautiful morning light,

table fellowship,

and birthdays of two dear family members--Elizabeth and Henry.

THE tree for proud prairie people

Here is the delight of my day, yesterday and today. We crossed a frozen creek and a rocky pass, then climbed a prairie ridge to get to this beauty. The quest to get her was exhilarating. The aroma infusing our house is, to my nostrils, heavenly. The cause we contributed to when we paid for the privilege of hiking and chopping, righteous. Oh, I'm a zealot about so many things...including this kind of tree. The humble cedar/juniper is the tree for me. Always has been. Locally grown, fragrant, zero environmental impact to harvest...probably there's an environmental benefit to harvest, because (thanks to the birds) there are too many of them interfering with the prairie landscape.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thou tree most fair and lovely!

The sight of thee at Christmastide
spreads hope and gladness far and wide.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!

130-in-one!

Oh, the delight of watching little hands work on this fun project when I came home from work yesterday. Henry taught me the ropes with ease and confidence and we completed the circuits for this chirping bird. Then I made sugar cookie dough and yogurt and we listened to more of Analise's Advent Journey.

Today's the day to get down the Christmas decorations, get the house ready for our tree and bake cookies! We are being remembered by so many dear friends with cookies and kind gestures and words that I really long to return the favor.

Peace of the Advent season to you!

this is thirty-eight

I'm thirty-eight tomorrow evening. There's a baby growing in me, doing a lot of kicking, but you can't see the belly very clearly. (We always have trouble with this camera at night. Daytime shots are simply the best. So maybe Joel will take another picture that I can post tomorrow). I enjoy my birthdays and try to make sure each one includes a solitary walk, if possible. Two years ago I walked twelve miles for my thirty-sixth birthday. What a walk and day that was. I was quitting the chaplaincy position (that I later resumed at 40% time) that I had held for 6+ years, and wanted to commemorate this transition by walking the route I had driven so many times before. I felt liberated on my journey. And dehydrated. I didn't take any water with me, and that was a mistake. But it was a joyful journey and that's what I feel on my birthday. I can say with Gerard Manley Hopkins, "...for all this, there lives the dearest freshness deep down things." Birthdays, delights and struggles all come and go. But, above all, there is still life. I am so thankful to have this life to live. And I feel blessed to be carrying another child. An amazing gift on my thirty-eighth birthday eve.

meanwhile...

While Aunt Libby and I sewed Advent calendars on Saturday, Henry and cousins painted their faces. He wanted me to photograph these faces for future reference-- in case he needs to remember how he made white circles around his eyes, a lightning bolt on the forehead, and white fangs below the mouth. I love the toughness and tenderness of my boy. We have been listening to an unfolding Advent story, The Advent Journey of Analise, and enjoying it.

notes from the middle of November

Hello blogland friends,

I'm excited to share my new header. Henry designed this cinderella pumpkin to have fangs on top, but they've curled under now, leaving a friendly, gaping maw to greet me when I walk up the front steps. The quotation from Hafiz is from my bathroom calendar, and I just find it appropriate in so many ways.

I'm not all that fond of November, but it does hold things to recommend it to us: the maturation of autumn, the constant awareness in this month of remembrance that we are not alone. Other souls have walked this ground before us. I'm very mindful of that at the beginning of November with All Saints/All Souls days. We don't observe these days in any big way as a family. Personally, though, I can't help but feel the ache of those I know who are filled with questions about where they are going and where they have been--the ache of those who have more friends on the other side of this life than on the side we're on.

I had the most comforting conversation about disillusionment yesterday. It was one of my work days, and I was sitting at a round table with some elders I love and admire. What honest observations they made about their lives. Why is it, we wondered together, that you get to the next "chapter" and you still don't have it all figured out? Seems to have little to do with being a "person of faith." Somehow life's losses tend to lead us deeper and deeper into mystery and the wildness of our being.

It was good for me to be reminded that I have probably said a lot of things intended to be comforting that have been received as nothing more than well-meaning platitudes. What was so heartening about the conversation is that I can stow these thoughts away. If I'm granted the long life I hope to have, I want to remember with gratitude the friends who said, "It's not easy getting old. I'm just as confused now as I ever was." I want to remember them and how beautiful it was to see them wondering and loving, learning and struggling. Let me be like that. That's the kind of faith I want.

On a different note, I have felt buoyed along by the election of Barack Hussein Obama to the office of President of the United States. Joel and I stayed up late watching the returns and I went to sleep filled with the hope that we're entering into a new era that might hold transformation for our nation. I pray for this new president-elect in a way that I've never prayed for leaders before. That he may be wise and grounded and visionary and conciliatory. Already I've been shocked as I've heard him talking about killing Osama bin Laden. I am aware that I can't expect all things of a finite human being and that the heart of transformation is really my own response to life. Yet I feel hopeful and thankful and I'm not taking either of these things for granted.

I'm a big Michael Pollan fan and hope you'll have time to listen to this interview on his Open Letter to the Next Farmer in Chief. I hope our president-elect has made time to listen.

Days and nights have been pretty sweet in our home of late. Henry is bonding with my pregnant belly, which I hope to share photos of sometime. We're reading Riki Tiki Tavi thanks to a visit to the cousins' house, Little House in the Big Woods, and The Two Towers. The Tolkien books continue to be our family bedtime reading routine and I delight in hearing Henry sigh as he falls into bed, snuggles up and settles down to hear more of this fabulous tale. It pleases Joel to be the reader.

Oh, each day holds its own frustrations and nagging questions, but I'm so very thankful for my little family and our little home and all the family and friends who love us. November, I am thankful for you and want to savor your remaining days.