Friendship Peace

Two of my Swedish Sisters were here this weekend to help say goodbye to Deb. They’d met her in Sweden, they’d stayed with her when they came to my wedding. They came to honor Deb and they stepped up to prop me up. Oh and they did. We counted blessings and gave thanks. Along the ways we made new memories.

They let me cry. They patted me. They fed me tea and chocolate (Finnish chocolate, tell no one!). We talked about all sorts of things and they came along as witnesses to my life as it is now. (Sadly they didn’t get to see my husband because he was sick the entire time they were here… ) They talked to me when I needed to jabber or when they needed something explained or just had something to say. And they were quiet when I needed quiet. And I could let them be quiet when their brains were exploding from all the English. We were present to one another.

They helped me remember why friends make a difference and reminded me to be grateful for all the astonishing and wonderful friends I have here and all over the world.

We all wondered at the thought that friendships such as ours — now over 44 years deep — can endure without a lot of tending, just because they are. We lived together. They shared their family (and now families) with me. They’ve met my family (now families) and loved them.

And in moments like this, you just push over bed in the morning as one of them comes in to chat and steals some covers and reassures your heart.

So even when the work ahead is hard, your heart is full and fueled for the journey. Peace goes better with friendship. Yes, indeed it does.

Sister Peace with Chocolate

I am struggling to get ready for the Memorial this weekend. In addition to the service, I’m getting my house ready for my Swedish sisters to visit. And I’m also getting my house into a place of Peace, because when this is over, I am going to need a place of refuge. I’m also struggling because there is no ignoring the earthly reality of her death. When the Memorial comes I have to say goodbye.

I have been getting the most extraordinary help from friends. People have organized me despite myself at home. People are singing in the Memorial. Tonight a girlfriend drove up from Harrisburg and just sat on the couch and then volunteered to go with me to fetch the Swedes.

My house looks fabulous. My bag has clothes piled up beside it for the weekend. Most of my writing for the ritual is done. Some of my writing for the sermon is done.

It’s so hard to let her go. That sweet familiar woman whose rhythms I knew as well as my own.

So what an incredible gift that these two women will arrive from Sweden, to wrap me in sister-love and sister-peace. Forty-four years later, love holds the center. I don’t know why I was smart enough to cultivate Love… but I give thanks, count my blessings, and wonder what kind of chocolate they will bring. They’re the first. and then the community will gather. Hard stuff is coming, but right now, I’m going focus on the love in… Oh, and Happy Halloween. I’ll be disguised as a person who’s doing OK… and I guess I am for a woman with a shattered heart.

But here come Cecelia and Margita… and all of you, who help me hold my heart together.

Present for Peace

Everyone’s life is busy. And when you add our illusion of control to our to do list, we begin to think our tasks are monumentally important. And it’s clear, says one over her head in tasks, that sometimes tasks require an immense amount of attention.

However, in the midst of that busyness, we are often asked by friends or even strangers to show up. Every instinct screams that we don’t have time… sometimes that’s right, but we need to be sure.

Because often the very most important thing we can do is to do less than our stellar best on a task and make time for a relaxed, human encounter. My parents drilled this into me. They were at a friend’s house once. The friend was dying. They’d gone for a visit. “Stay,” he said. “Tasks,” they said. He died that week. “Never do that,” they said to us. “Never.”

We need to prioritize Friendship. We need to prioritize Love. We need to prioritize Life’s Sacred Passages and show up for them. Houses may be messy, grass un-mown, but cups of tea and glasses of beer or wine will be had, shoulders will be cried on. Funerals will be attended, conversations will be frank, people will get the ride they need to the doctors appointment or the medicine from the drug store. Doing good work and good works is the most important work. Stepping up can be hard work, yet, in doing that, simple presence will be offered and life will be transformed.

Extending our hands beyond our normal circles of caring begins to build great possibilities, and starts us down the road toward a Peace that is bigger than we are. All because we rearrange our time and our priorities. It’s sometimes messy and frustrating and inconvenient, but Peace and Caring? as the ad says… Priceless.

Finding the Peace

— Even in the missteps. At some point you need to let those things go. Ah, but the stories? They remain…

I’m still polishing my way, silver spoon by silver salver to Peace in the china cupboard and in my home. I suppose I could just let all this go, or continue to let the air have its way with the silver. But the beginning to recall stories is the beginning of the healing. Perhaps I’m not yet ready to remember the wonderful trip to Alaska… oh, the pain… I can’t yet unpack the suitcase of Deb’s clothes that I took, but even though six of the original nine of us in this three story family are gone, I can, through the help of these things, begin, at least, to recall the folks on the ground floor…

So there are things and the removing of the tarnish unveils the stories. And I am restored even as the house is. And in the beautifying and putting away, I am calmed and soothed as ragged memories are no longer assaulting me from piles all over the floor, impeding my progress from room to room. I’m not sure if I’m making memories by doing this, or simply making room for memories.

I can’t imagine how thoroughly nettled my grandmother must have been. I wonder, had it been me — playing either roll, Gram or Sam — if I’d have been able to refrain from resilvering. Probably not, because I know, even as a child, when that urn sat in sullen condemnation in our cellar closet, i longed to restore it.

Hey! I’m an extrovert. I LIKE bright shiny things. And stories. I do love the stories. And many’s the day I sat with Grandma Helen, taking things out and putting things back into the china closet, to touch, revere, tell the stories of their family provenance, and then at the end, to set the table with. Even though I never cook, I still love setting a fine table. (maybe I need a great delivery service! oh and a million bucks — after all, the food should fit the plate, no?

But there was Sammy full of bright ideas… that ultimately weren’t. I’ve been there. It’s nice to know I inherited the oopsie gene. And all the hard work in the world doesn’t put the silver back on the urn. Ah well, silver to polish, blessings to count… a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Reflecting Peace

I’m polishing things at my house for two reasons. I just inherited a whole bunch of lovely family and putting them out and putting them away, it seemed better to put them away well shined and well loved. And then after a long time away at deb’s and a long time not living in my space, I’m trying to reclaim where I live. To make it mine again. (thankfully the human version of peeing on things is cleaning them!) And OK, three and four… I love silver, especially silver that’s been used for generations of MY family AND I have very few jobs that end, so I take great satisfaction in taking a mound of tarnished pieces and turning it into beauty. Take that!

So, when I can’t do anything else right now, I polish. Even though there’s still plenty of chaos on the surface, it’s slowly diminishing underneath. Things are being put away. An entire stack of books, stuck beside my fireplace for YEARS — vanished into a bookcase of all unlikely places.

And the silver and the wood and the glassware are slowly returning to their intended state as heirlooms mingle with my own chosen things. As I apply a little elbow grease to things I’ve been catching little glimpses of myself in the newly shining surfaces. It has reminded me that October and the coming celebration of Hallowmas is about that. About the quick glances that reveal deep truths. Catching my father’s profile in my grandmother’s silver pitcher. A glazed, teary-eyed look into the reflection on a dish that held candy on my Nana’s table. Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going? Moments of self-reflection. Moments of blessing counting. Moments of beauty.

Because the glimpses are only snatches, it’s easier to begin to piece together (Peace together) a picture. I can examine those pieces with curiosity and remembrance. I can let the grace seep in before I have to face the whole. All in all, i think it’s a good way to begin the process of examining our souls, bit by bit… and scrubbing the tarnish off as we go. Peace. slow, subtle Peace. and ooh, look, bright shiny things. who doesn’t like that?

Hope/Fear Peace

In the Tarot spread I use the most, there is a position entitled hopes and fears. The question it asks is this: Will you accept your potential?

With this position, giving in to your fears means saying no to that possibility, clinging to your fears rather than opening to life. Saying yes to hope means making plans (right now!) to make things come true. It means accepting responsibility for your future.

I completely understand the Buddha’s look at hope and fear as the twin evils. I understand how easy it is to live out of what is true now. But I am a Westerner with a Judeo-Christian sense of the word Hope. I cherish those with the courage to live as if the world were different now.

I understand how seductive our fears are and that we can obsess about them. But I also know that fear is a healthy response to things that are dangerous. When we face those fears we can make good decisions about behaviors in which we might not want to engage or strategies that can make us better able to cope with what frightens us if in fact we must engage.

But what the Buddha was pushing at, I believe, is the notion that we live in the present. Some biblical sage said it this way: “Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof” or as people have rephrased that “Don’t borrow trouble.” We have to stay in our day’s chaos and work our way out toward tomorrow.

Because Peace is also here. If it is chaotic then tackle a tiny corner of it and smooth that out. And then the next corner. I’m preaching to myself here, slowly working on the “but firsts!”)

And here’s what else. Celebrate your progress, because that will encourage you to make more. Every step toward Peace is a step in Peace.

Softening Peace

We’re getting deeper and deeper into Autumn. Even though the temps are lolling around in September ranges, Mother Earth keeps changing and preparing for winter. The hours of daylight are lessening. Pretty soon, there’s going to be that unnatural jolt into darkness… wow, maybe the government won’t change to standard time if they’re out lolling about.

But change or not, there are still more hours of darkness… and a lot more slow dawn and twilight. And that’s the beauty of Fall.

I know. I’ve been whining a lot because I’m caught in that place in between. Everything requires two or three steps to be done before it. It’s very hard for me. I’m a charge ahead kinda woman and this is a slog through it time… outside and in… and by in let’s include both my heart and my house.

My house will be lovely. It’s unlovely now. My heart will be patched over. It’s still got draining wounds.

But this process of healing is not to be wished away. This is time too. This is what it takes to merge the stuff of generations. This is what it takes for a heart to hold love. That I can’t do what i’ve always done, think the way I’ve always thought, laugh the way I so often do, is what’s true. And in that truth is a wretched beauty.

This is the cost of having a sweet sister. This is the price of having familial history. You pay the price that the silver might shine and the wood might gleam and the glassware sparkle. All that shining, gleaming and sparkling is your past. hmmm… maybe there’s a poem in this, I should stop!

But living here, now, being present, is the only way to get to ‘way over yonder…. whether that’s ‘way, ‘way, ‘way over yonder or simply tomorrow. It’s also the only way of making memories to make our futures sweet. Peace is where we are, or it isn’t anywhere.

Catch and Release Peace

I didn’t set out to become a Midwife for Death. I can tell you that I ignored the signs a long time. And yet, it was work I did from my 20s. For some reason, I knew to be present, and wasn’t really frightened.

And there really isn’t a MfD 101 course anywhere. And guidance came in only the most sporadic ways. Someone offered a guided meditation, and talked about her early fears that she was jinx to her patients, only to understand later that her nursing supervisors sent her to work with those who were slipping away.

When I did take a course in Clinical Pastoral Education, I realized that oddly most of the clients I “caught” in the ER were dying and I sat with their families if they weren’t allowed to be there and talked with them afterwards. They trained me with their questions and their need to be heard.

And then there was AIDS and beautiful men dying gaunt and alone. Beautiful men learning how to care for one another. Oh, I learned a lot there.

What I learned is that it is as precious a moment to be there at the going out as it is at the coming in. That the labor to leave life is as extreme as the labor to come into it. That the ceremonies of “goodbye” can be as joyous and freeing as the ceremonies of “hello” or “I do.” That the invitation to be present to those passages is a privilege and not a weight. Your acceptance is an entering into prayer. This is hard work, but an unbelievable blessing.

The weight comes when there is so much death, one after another. Particularly now when I’m grieving my own loss. And yet, still the privilege of stepping up when people must be held. And perhaps there is healing in the notion that we all lose those we love. It is the payment on these astonishing lives we lead.

There is so much more I need to know. Perhaps there is a lot more for me to write since it seems so few are encouraged into walking this boundary with their loved ones, despite the fact that every loved one will cross sooner or later. More to learn about helping those who cross. More to learn about helping those who remain. I can read a lot and yet “book larnin'” isn’t necessarily the best teacher…

This is a deeply personal reflection for me, this struggle to catch the souls who are grieving and to release those who are leaving… I’m certain that many of you have parts of your life and your talents that you’re exploring… things about yourself you didn’t suspect… I wish us all Peace as we learn our trades.

More Lion Peace

Writing a blog is such a fascinating process. When you sit down, you believe you know what direction you’re headed. Usually that’s true. Revelations that come are often small and pithy. But once in a while, they’re grand and sweeping.

Yesterday’s post was such a one. I really thought the lion was a curiosity. Something to explore because it had been dear to my dad and yet commemorated a massacre of Swiss guards at the Tuilleries during the French Revolution. If I think about why Dad may have had that, it takes a while. Aunt Jennie, my Gram’s aunt, used to take women on ‘Grand Tours’ around Europe. It must have been she who visited the Lion Monument in Lucerne and brought back this memento. So it’s entirely possible that it wasn’t Daddy who cherished it, or at least cherished it first, but rather Aunt Jenny, who had magical status in her niece’s eyes and then it was bequeathed to Helen. And then Sammy. And now me.

But when I looked up the inscription about loyalty and bravery and began to write about that, it was Deb’s courage and faithfulness that came to mind. She fretted after mom died that I would be ok. Was glad that Steve had come into my life, certainly for my sake, but also for hers. I think she knew she’d die before me, and felt better knowing I’d have love.

And there’s so much Love. I never worry about not being Loved. There is Love, more Love, everywhere you look. But of course when one love disappears, the heart breaks. And while the dead are always with us, where and how are questions that need to be sorted out over time. time when we want everything to happen right now, darnit.

If the Lion has taught his lesson, then what do I do with it? I’m the fourth generation lion holder. Is there another generation who wants it? What home does stuff seek when it has served? Who will have to clean this out when I’m dead? Too much stuff. All of it precious. Go figure. but luckily I’ll wait a while. I have loving to do on my husband! And we all need to be cherishing our partners. I heard from a college buddy, one I’d lived with when I went to seminary, one whose wedding ceremony I’d performed. Her husband died suddenly.

This is what happens in life. Stay present. Listen to the Lions. Make a lot of memories. and Love outrageously. This is all part of the bumpy road to Peace.

Trying to Solidify Peace

As I was writing yesterday, this is what occurred to me… maybe the handling of stuff, precious, inherited stuff is an occupation in which we engage in order to begin to knit together the frayed edges of our souls. This is what it feels like, for me at least… as if our souls are open at the edges where our beloved departed?

and yet, box by box, pack things down and then open them out again, choose what stays and then choose where the rest will go and the held back will be displayed, perhaps this is how we come to terms with the leaving… only as we settle in. only as handle each of the pieces our beloveds have handled.

I’m touching a lot of my past in this move… my sister was the keeper of much of the family heirlooms. And I also unpacked a box that had been tucked away for 7 years that I’d brought home from my father’s place when he died. So much history. Pretty soon, the table my brother made in 9th grade shop will have some of the same mementos that it held when it graced my parent’s living room, oh a decade ago…

and in the touching, there is remembering. and in the remembering there is a re-membering a pulling back together of life, different but still containing them… replacing, oh-so-slowly, the great gaping emptiness.

And although this is a lot of noble philosophy, I’m still overwhelmed by the amount of stuff that must be done. balance. Let’s keep looking for balance. In the meantime, I’ll keep working at staying present, making the memories stick, and giving thanks that I was as lucky as I was. And I’ll keep unpacking, shall I?

Sacred Village

Building a World of Peace, Village by Sacred Village.

Tag Archives: being present