As I reached into the mailbox, a wasp stung me. Frightened of bees as a child, I’ve never liked surprises that sting. I vaguely remember my childhood bedroom in Pennsylvania, in our new home designed by my father. I have a vivid memory of spending hours and hours, behind my closed door, drawing little black and yellow bee families on pieces of paper. Some were single bees; others pushed strollers with baby bees. I cut them out and taped them all over my furniture and walls as high as I could reach. I remember the surprised look on my mother’s face when she opened the door and saw my artwork. She went to get Dad, and they decided to let me keep the bees on display. Even though the tape could have damaged the furniture and walls, they didn’t have the heart to ask me to remove my first art installation.
Today, in celebration of National Honey Month, I enjoyed lemon ginger tea with local honey. I love bees and I love honey, but I don’t feel called to the apiary. I appreciate beekeepers, and I’m thankful for those who harvest this beautiful, sweet, golden liquid.
How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! –Psalm 119:103
My husband and I just finalized plans to visit our son in Copenhagen later this year. I asked him what kind of bread is eaten there. “Well, they seem to eat lots of rye bread,” was his response, so I decided to bake a rye bread from that region to include as part of the World Communion celebration at our church. Vorterkaker is a round, flat loaf with a hole in the center. This dry, crisp loaf would keep for months when stored in an outdoor granary, and the hole allowed it to be hung up to dry. I’ve always loved the taste of black licorice, so I was thrilled to learn the ingredients include anise and fennel seeds. I don’t own a docking wheel, which creates the small holes for a more even bake, but my chocolate chipper worked perfectly. As I tasted a bite fresh out of the oven, I thought, how unusual! Over the years my taste buds have been awakened by the unique, tantalizing flavors discovered through breads from different nationalities. My eyes have been opened.
A tune heard today is not my favorite, but the inspirational text, beautifully sung, created an experience of illuminated prayer. It reminds me that reading God’s Word is more than just reading the words. Our whole person is involved if we allow it to be. Yes, it’s up to me to allow the words and the music to speak so God can break through my false self and the Spirit can flow through. Then I am set free…free to live my life as God chooses for me.
I attended a bridal shower today. One of the games tested how well we knew the bride, and it challenged us to guess how she would answer the questions. Something I’ve learned over the years has been very helpful when I’m in a room of people I don’t know very well. While in a conversation and that awkward time of silence occurs (great aunt Peanie always said it must be twenty past the hour), it is a good time to pull out the open-ended questions. An introvert, I’m all about keeping the focus away from myself, so I direct my attention to others. As I checked off the answers I thought were correct, it occurred to me that I’m not sure how members of my own family would answer many of them. Sometimes we know more about our friends than our family. How easy it is to miss the details, and how important it is to remember the details. It doesn’t take much effort; just desire. These seemingly insignificant details can actually create stronger bonds between family and friends. And when I have questions for God, our relationship grows stronger if I listen to his answers with intention.
As yoga ended this morning, our instructor invited us to hold our hands above our heads in “prayer hands.” Then as we slowly moved them to our foreheads, she said, “May my thoughts today be clear and loving.” Then to our lips; “May my words today be clear and loving.” And finally in front of our hearts; “May my actions and intentions today be clear and loving.”
Today was one of those unexplainable days. Some good parts, some bad, but mostly just there. As I sat down to write, I thought, “I’ve got nothing.” But someone today touched my heart with her kindness. She created something beautiful out of nothing, expecting nothing in return, and she did it to the glory of God. Some days I may think I’ve got nothing, but if I look closely, there are saints everywhere reminding me that all I need is faith. That is something.
First of all, I want to apologize to the “kind lady” I never met…Our son was at the airport waiting to board a flight with his dad, who recounted this story and has told it many times since. At the airport, waiting to board a flight to visit grandparents, a kind lady knelt down at our son’s level and spoke in a sing-songy tone, “Oh, what a cute boy!” Our son, about age 4 at the time, looked at her for a few seconds with a wide-eyed stare, then with his open palm, popped her between the eyes. “Kind lady’s” face changed to “stunned lady” as she put her hand to her forehead and turned to look at Dad. Horrified, my husband apologized and asked if she was okay. She left without saying a word. Our son is now past the “quick-to-anger” phase and has become a patient and mature young man.
I recently taught a beginning piano student about musical patterns and sequences. When I notice repetition in my life, I ask myself if this experience brings me life or if it is draining. If the answer is the latter, I try to gently move away from this source of desolation. Experiences that bring me life-filled energy encourage me to move toward their soul-nourishing light. Reviewing my day can help to discern where the Spirit is leading me. Sometimes I share these moments with another family member or friend. Other times I share my experiences with God; then listen and pray. If I’m having a bad day, I try to remember to ask myself, “When did I feel most alive today?” This simple question can bring life-giving hope when the well runs dry.
This Labor Day, I think about the work I do and have done. Not all work is pleasurable, but it is usually necessary. When I work at something, I can only get better, but if I don’t work at it, I have no chance of getting better. This reminds me of my novice year as a Benedictine oblate. There were lessons I was encouraged to complete each month, but they were not required. If I didn’t do this work, I could still become an oblate. But would I have grown in wisdom and faith? No. The choice is mine. Working in the Presbyterian Church, I have chosen to include Benedictine wisdom in my life.
I arrived in Boston (9/2/17) after a long, wonderful journey. I never could have imagined the twists and turns, the new friends made, and the things I learned about myself and my faith along the way. It was nice to see familiar faces again. After helping our daughter move into her first apartment, my husband and I drove the long way back home; not quite as many twists and turns this part of the trip. After a journey such as this, it takes time to ruminate about everything experienced. I didn’t forget Br. Placid’s gentle nudge encouraging me to share my story, yet I wasn’t quite sure how to begin, so I kept putting it off. But God knows what to do! I was reminded of this when I read my journal:
Bread for the Journey 