Bread for the Journey

My husband is so wonderful. He hates to shop, yet spent two hours in the heat and humidity, which he may dislike even more than shopping! We enjoyed the Laumeier Sculpture Park Art Fair this weekend and found this metal peacock for our garden. We both agree it may have been a purchase-on-a-whim, but we couldn’t pass up his face. After placing it in a suitable spot, it looks as if this peacock has found a home.

The artists at the fair expressed themselves in unique ways. I enjoyed speaking with them and hearing their stories. Booths of wooden and whimsical creations resided next to intricate silver lace, which sat alongside beautiful sculptures and paintings. The Mud Poet was so excited to show me his “lazy Susan-style” pottery, which must be turned to read the entire poem. His mantra is, “Don’t become famous for doing something you don’t like.” He clearly lives his passion as do many of the other artists I met; each following their own path to enlightenment.

God stretched out the heavens, stippling the night with impressionistic stars. [God] set the sun to the rhythm of the day, the moon to the rhythm of the month. . . . [God] formed a likeness of [God’s own self] from a lump of clay and into it breathed life. [God] crafted a counterpart to complete the likeness, joining the two halves and placing them center stage in [God’s] creation where there was a temptation and a fall, a great loss and a great hiding. God searched for the hiding couple, reaching to pick them up, dust them off, draw them near. . . . In doing all this, God gave us art, music, sculpture, drama, and literature . . . as footpaths to lead us out of our hiding places and as signposts to lead us along in our search for what was lost. . . .We must learn to look with more than just our eyes and listen with more than just our ears. . . . We must be aware, at all times and in all places, because windows are everywhere, and at any time we may find one. . . .What do we see in those windows? What do we see of who we are, or once were, or one day might become? What do we see of our neighbor living down the street or our neighbor living on the street? What do we see about God? ~ Ken Gire

If God is creator, and we are made in God’s image or Imago Dei, then we are, in our essence, creators. We are, in our essence, artists. Therefore, when we open ourselves to the expression of creativity, we also open to the movement of the Divine within us. ~ Christine Valters Paintner and Betsey Beckman

There is someone in my life who I don’t thank enough. My stepmother. I cannot imagine living any one else’s life, but I am pretty sure it’s tough to live the role of an “adopted mother.” Although I am not able to call her Mom, I am grateful for her in many ways. After Mom died, she became a very important person in my father’s life. Not only do they share loves and joys such as art and opera, but for many years, they were companions and business partners as owners of The Beechmont Inn.

Oma is the grandmother of our children; always exclaiming, “Who loves you?” She delighted in sharing books with her grandchildren and, when authors stayed at their inn, signed books usually appeared on our children’s bookshelves. She has generously given us many things over the years including much needed furniture enabling our first child to move out of our home. Her excellent knowledge in real estate led us to our first home and she always has answers or is eager to research the possibilities. Her love of baking and cooking is exceptional, and learning kitchen skills from her has brought me much joy. In fact, it was during one of my visits that she introduced me to a beautiful book by Peter Reinhart, inspiring my passion for baking bread.

Although we don’t share the same ancestry or heritage, she has been a mother to me in many ways. We are all beloved children of God. Loved, lovable, and loving. Who loves you? God does and so do I.

The soup I ate for dinner last night was way too salty. When I make soup I have learned to wait and add this flavor enhancer gradually because, once it’s too salty, there’s no turning back. One time, I accidentally left salt out of my bread dough. The yeast went to town with no salt to get in its way, quickly boosting the rising dough ten times its typical volume. After tasting the finished product, I knew something had gone terribly wrong. The bread didn’t even taste like bread. Flavorless.

When I was young and learning how to bake, I attempted to make a grasshopper pie (the chocolate crème de menthe version). I was quite excited until I tried it. My sleuth skills determined I had measured salt when I thought it was sugar. One cup of salt in a pie is hard to disguise. Anyone, even an adoring parent, would have extreme difficulty complimenting such a finished product.

A few years ago, when our family was on vacation near the ocean, I visited the farmer’s market where someone was selling locally-made sea salt. This is one way the small town sustained themselves many years ago so I was interested in learning more about how salty ocean water was evaporated. I asked if the salt works was open to the public so I could view the production. The kind lady hesitated, handed me her card, and said, “There’s really not much to see; it’s a small place, but you are welcome to contact me and set up a time to visit.”

Salt. Subtle, humble grains. Not much to see, yet important and necessary to life. To me, that’s what faith is like.

Gaga was her name. She was a woman of strong faith even after losing her husband and her only child, my mother. As Gaga was about to leave this earth in 2009, my sister called with the shocking news in the middle of the night. Not quite knowing what to do, I asked my sister to hold the phone to Gaga’s ear. I ran to the piano; my mind rushing, thinking, “What will I play?” and instinctively chose the first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata in E, opus 109. The ending, with beautiful harmonies gradually lifting up and up the keyboard, sounded to me like Christ’s Ascension. It amazes me how clear our thoughts can be in times of stress; as if someone else has taken over. I don’t recollect many details surrounding Gaga’s death, but I do know that I felt God’s loving presence abiding with me.

“O lead my spirit; O raise it from these heavy depths, transported by Thy Art that fearlessly and joyfully it soar up to Thee. For Thou, Thou knowest all things, Thou alone canst inspire. ~ Ludwig van Beethoven

And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. – Matthew 28:20

I have a new friend, M. She said, “yes” to painting the door I received two days ago. Today, she visited me at church to view the door. She initially thought I was asking her to paint a picture of a door and we had a laugh about that. What I am asking her to do is probably not a normal request either. I am asking her to create a painting on the door representing the worship themes and commissioned hymn for our Presbyterian General Assembly in June. She seemed unsure about the direction to take with her painting, so we prayed lectio divina using the text for the commissioned hymn, during which, she received clarity and more confidence. We visited a few stores to purchase paint and supplies. Then we shared stories over lunch. I am excited to have found M, and she seems excited to work on a project where she can use her gifts. In just a few days M and I connected, shared, and are working together to create something wonderful. I know it is special because God brought us together, where, with God’s help, we can do great things.

Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. – Matthew 18:20

I believe. I believe in hopes and dreams. Miracles. Christ. Truth. God. Creation. The Holy Spirit. Prayer. My prayer was answered today and we have an artist for our door!

Whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. -Mark 11:24

Here begins the story of the door. This door, delivered to church today, is from Defiance, MO. It is nothing special. Just a plain door that was no longer needed. Until now and I’m so excited! I was looking for a door that would become a table; an artistic expression of scriptural themes for the prayer room at General Assembly in June. The text of the commissioned hymn for this large gathering contains door imagery. Hence, the reason behind the search. Now that the door is found, I need to find the artist. Not just any artist. This person may not even know they’re an artist. I am looking for someone with a story to tell; a person who has experienced upended doors and longs to be welcomed at the door-turned-into-table where all who are hungry are fed. I am certain this person will appear. And I have no doubt that this “nothing special” door will become a powerful proclamation of God’s Word.

A clever member of our church family observed that our church’s new banners were brought to life today. The children presented a musical about the miracle of the loaves and the fishes. As with most things involving children, something unexpected happened. As the “miraculously multiplied” loaves were distributed by the children to the audience and cast, the performers immediately began to eat them; so quickly, in fact, it was difficult for them to sing. The show continued, though, full mouths and all. I loved the spontaneous joyful feast!

Members of the audience later commented on this memorable moment. When we add smell, taste, music and visual components to text, the tangible, sensory experience surrounds us and enters into our depths. It helps us to more fully participate; taking what we have, as small as it may be, and doing something wonderful.

“The most humble among us – especially children – can do great things with God’s help.” ~ Tom Long and Allen Pote

Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry.” – John 6:35

I attended a graduation party today. As I wrote a message in the card, I thought about my own feelings of going off to college and leaving home for the first time. This is a huge transition; exciting yet fearful. I return to Brian McLaren’s writing, drawing from St. Francis’ way of prayer: Here I am, Lord. Here you are, Lord. Here we are together. (Pause). Who am I, Lord? Who are you, Lord? Who are we together? This last question can then be answered in a variety of ways, like, “We are singers who fill the earth with harmony. We are warm spring sun and growing seeds. We are builders of a brighter future.”

To be here with God is to be at home, wherever you are. Allowing God to live in our hearts means we can go anywhere, anywhere and we will still be at home.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I am not afraid. –Psalm 56:3-4

I have much to learn about many, many things. One thing I did not know, until discovering just a few days ago, that a rosemary clipping can root. I’m quite excited to learn this since I don’t have much luck keeping rosemary alive. So now I can take sprigs from the “mother plant” and maybe, just maybe, have a greater chance of at least one lasting throughout the year.

Rosemary symbolizes remembrance. When I try to remember things, I repeat things about them; a bit like rooting them in my mind. The scent of rosemary lingers, especially when rubbed between fingers. The memory of scent adds another layer of nostalgia. Memory is a precious thing. Knowing it can slowly fade, I strive to be intentional about writing in a journal. I don’t like reading what I’ve written years ago, but when I do, I usually learn something new about myself that I forgot or didn’t realize at the time. I am thankful for the ability to remember and for things that encourage remembrance.