Letters: Cherished Chronicles of Life

Letters were once thought to be precious and essential, even a gracious art form and a chronicle of history. Whole portions of a person’s day was devoted to composing letters following specific structures and social standards of the era; solicitous greetings, dutiful reports, careful revelations of opinion or sentiment, closing with respectful sincerity, highest regard, and the flourish of one’s name. For centuries, the world wide wrote letters.  

My parent’s were letter writers, cherished pages handwritten in unique, yet so familiar scripts. Ink fading. Thin paper in envelopes, both aging. Words received that are more valuable today than when they were initially retrieved from a mailbox so many years ago.

As our preschool grandsons began those earliest literacy routines of recognizing and writing their own names, I began to send them mail. As I had hoped, they soon anticipate mail delivery, asking if there was “any mail for me?”. I know their interest won’t last long. All manner of phones and tablets already have a place on their menu of communication tools and land mail will one day disappear from our lives. For now, they experience the pleasure of seeing their name on an envelope, breaking the seal to discover what news might be within, knowing this was lovingly prepared just for them.

Grateful today for…

~ parents who modeled literacy and valued the joy of story in every form.

~ long distance relationships nurtured by the tradition of letters.

~ the circumstances that provided literacy and education across our generations.

~ the bundles of ribbon tied letters, dated decades ago.

~ my nation’s provision of vast systems of communication.

~ the letters in the mail, for messages of greeting, news, and affection.

~ for Epistles signed, “Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.”

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Distant Summer Memories

Far northwest beaches are reached after walking through verdant Pacific rain forests of towering aged trees. Occasionally mottled light splinters through the dense shade; that, and the sound of the surf, hints at the coastal splendor at the forest’s edge. 

Emerging from dense green foliage, stepping out onto the wide expanse of beach, floods the mind with the grander of the shifting boundary between land and sea. In that place beaches are wide, as the tide recedes with distant expanses of shallow water. 

The ocean polished remains of fallen, nearly whole, tree trunks are beached along the shoreline. Grey, splintered, and pock marked after untold time adrift at the sea. Smaller remnants of driftwood cluster with grey-blue indigo shells at the tide line. Sea tinged winds against one’s face, beach combing in bare feet, navigating the rivulets of sand and salt water; the soul ’s delight.

I unwrapped the collection of driftwood and shells that we had gathered that summer so many years ago and began to arrange it in a way that we could enjoy it’s beauty once again. Holding each piece, lifted an abundance of memories of that time and place. The extravagant beauty of that region; the old, old forests along an expansive coastline; the cool, moisture rich air; and the milestone in our life that the place marked. Through the years we have spoken of that time, recalled the deep serenity of those days, counted the years since we were there. It is a prominent marker on our timeline of living. A treasure in the midsts of numbering our days. 

"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

Psalm 90:12

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July Smolders into August

July heat, an open oven door, with the scent of over toasted bread. 

Air meandering heavy and slow, dense with crackled dryness. 

The flag barely able to rustle itself from a limp fold of cloth on the pole. 

A full compliment of summer’s winged critters swarm, skim, and hum above the pond’s undisturbed surface, the sole opposite of lazy in the heat of mid-day.

Shuttered in the shade, slates angled to reflect rays elsewhere;

pondering what remnants of deep summer shine most in my memory…

~ Blueberries. 

Mounds of Michigan blueberries. Folded into pancakes topped with maple syrup, covered with milk and sugar, or nibbled dark-blue-fresh straight from the bowl. Summer’s orbs of berry-liciousness!

~ Huldah, holy woman of great reputation, chosen by God to be a prophet, teacher, and adviser to Kings! Listen up folks, she taught men! She was selected above Jeremiah, to inform the King about God’s will {2 Kings 22:1-20}. Take heart sisters in Christ, God does indeed call women to proclaim His word.

~ Reading Anthony Doer’s novel, All the Light We Can Not See…

in contrast to its title, SHINES big time on my recommendations to read. It’s multiple themes, creative intricacies, historical depth, wondrous characters, and sweeping plot enthralled me for a marathon four day reading binge. Go now. Download today.

~ Seriously now, what shines brilliantly among July’s memories 

would be a fervent message on Christian compassion. 

In the 4th video of Andy Stanley’s boldly honest video series Your Move, Stanley says even though Christians are told in John 13:34-35 to “Love one another”, he honestly admits, “Church people are some of the meanest people you know.” “(We) mistreat people in the name of Jesus.” In response, he expertly expounds on Colossians 3:12, “Clothe yourself with compassion…” reminding us that Christ means, “I want this (love and compassion) to mark you!” Yes indeed, that message burned deep in my heart in the midst of this July.       

http://yourmove.is/episode/ep4-follow-wear/

~ And, the frivolous is not to be left out, loving the new series, “Giada in Italy”. 

Really, my cooking interest (and talent) is modest. However filming of the Mediterranean gem that is Positano, captures my visual senses. Local markets, stucco architecture in contrast to brilliant flowers, melded with gorgeous food preparation…I’m in.

It’s the season to ice that tea, seek the shade, relish bone deep warmth, and ponder what memories shine bright for you this summer.

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Linking with Chatting at the Sky, Weekend Brew, & Still Saturday this weekend.

Honor the Endurance

In the morning light we walked the grounds of the charming rural inn before traveling the next leg of our trip.

An expanse of spring green pasture spread out in front of the lodge, circled round by a narrow farm road bordered by fields of wild flowers dotted among the brambles and dense woodlands. 

We walked the rutted road to get a closer view of lambs in the pasture, of hens freely ranging the grassy places, and of the fresh faced Daisies spreading in the sunlit edges of the forest. 

I whispered prayers as we rambled the road. 

We would, that day, continue our long distance travel, deeper into the rural areas of this region to visit loved ones. Loved ones, soul sore burdened by illness, disability, the vigor of health stilled by incomprehensible injury. 

We two people, two threads binding together to gain strength from each other and from our faith, in order to move past our own sorrow to meet the greater needs of those we love.

Claiming sabbath quiet as we walked, I gathered refreshment for the soul. 

In the company of lambs I whispered prayers under the sweeping clouds and across the clustered heads of Daisy growth, inviting holy Lord to bless the visit that lay ahead, to guide our words, to fulfill our hope to do only good and offer encouragement through our presence. 

That He would guard us against making careless dismissive statements, insensitive platitudes, or sweeping comments that the heartbroken can gain no solace from.

I whispered prayers that we would honor the struggle, come along side the challenge, and that we would be able to extend caring concern. 

"Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, 
but only such as is good for building up, 

as fits the occasion, 
that it may give grace to those who hear."

Ephesians 4:29 ESV

Epilogue:

God covered the visit with our dear ones, with much Grace, a depth of loving effort on everyone’s part, and He provided strength through compassion that we hoped for. My heart swelled with unending admiration for the endurance and effort of our loved one and the fortitude of the devoted family who are providing constant care.

 ~

Sources for understanding chronic illness:

What Not to Say to Someone with Chronic Illness

The Challenges of Living with Invisible Illness

Open Letter from a Person with Chronic Pain

Social Holiness

He was exceptionally gregarious and she had a heart for serving others. Together our parents modeled an active life of community service and hospitality. We knew the inside of most of the churches in town, not just our own. I can not count the number of church potlucks that Dad supported via the purchase of tickets to feed his family eight. One congregation hosted a Spaghetti Dinner, we were there. Another denomination hosted an annual Smorgasbord every spring, we were there. Pancake Breakfast at the largest church in town started way too early on a Saturday morning, but even Dad’s teenagers were strongly encouraged to join him. The little rural church in the country had a potluck lunch and a quilt raffle, my Dad bought tickets even when half his kids were away at college. 

“How many memories do you have of great conversations shared over a good meal? …something special happens when we break bread and share drinks with one another. It is a holy time.”   

   http://rethinkchurch.org/articles/spirituality/creating-sacred-space-anywhere-you-are

In the 70’s, Meals on Wheels was one of our mother’s chosen forms of outreach. Here she had six near adult kids at home that she was preparing meals for every evening and still, she loaded up lunches in the back the station wagon and drove around town for several hours delivering lunch along with a few moments of neighborly conversation, to the elderly folks in our community. At times the younger siblings accompanied her. They remember the people, the gratitude, and our mother’s gift of friendship.

Methodist founder John Wesley called this 

active engagement of humanity “social holiness”.

http://rethinkchurch.org/learn-about-united-methodists

We practice Christian hospitality even in the smallest places of our daily life: when we offer a  smile and whisper support to the mother struggling with her teenager in a restaurant, when we email a note to a woman who was absent from the week’s Bible Study class, when we suggest a lunch date to a person who we know is struggling, when we greet walkers on the path, regardless of race or class; any time we support, serve, and extend grace.

Social holiness requires intention and hospitality.

Someone you know would love to join you for lunch.

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Morning's Stillness

In early spring wind off the waves brushed gently against our faces with soft touches of warmth and great moist whiffs of the sea. Pants legs rolled up to sink feet in the white bounty of coastal sand and surf. We walked. The wind swept through the mind, carrying the burdens of living far out to sea. I point out the scurrying Sand Pipers and he scours the beds of washed up shells for beauty.

Sand glistens in the way of gems, reflecting light from facets of uncountable grains, all broken, polished, and scattered across the beach. Treasures of the sea cast onto the shore, sourced from rock, shells, and marine life, mingled in tidal deposits washed up by waves. 

As I recall myself bowing over the sand, scanning the collection tumbled onto the beach, I ponder how similar this image could be to holy God gazing down from celestial heights onto the minute beings of humanity. Certainly, the diverse bits of shells, rock, driftwood, the occasional gull’s feather, or dried sand dollar ~ certainly, such a collection is loosely symbolic of humankind’s wide range of color and form in varying stages of wave tossed brokenness. I ponder the scriptures that assure us that our Creator follows the journey of each remnant of life and gathers it all for redeemed purpose.

And I walked, 

heart full to bursting, 

contemplating the divinely guided galaxies in the cosmos 

replicated in small earthly microcosms 

for human eyes to witness 

the magnitude 

and detail 

of God’s power.

The One who builds His upper chambers in the heavens and has founded His vaulted dome over the earth,

He who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out on the face of the earth,

The Lord is His name.

Amos 9:6

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Linking to Still Saturday, Sunday Stillness, Weekend Brew, Tell His Story. Click on their buttons below to join the community of posts.

As the Cicadas Sing

After morning coffee on the back patio, after puttering with the flower pots, and after a walk around the ponds, the sun’s height begins to heat up this part of the world sending folks like myself to benches situated under the deepest shade or to comfy chairs in cozy air-conditioned spaces, anticipating the company of a good book.

Summer reading lists are iconic. Schools require them. Libraries endorse them. Newspapers publish them. Book sellers advertise them. Readers eagerly share them and scour the titles of favored choices for the season. 

Still preferring the real-deal hard copy to hold in my hands, 

these are some of the books in this month’s stack:

1. Wearing God by Lauren Winner. I really loved this fascinating exploration of the metaphors found in scripture that are used to describe God. Some were the familiar “clothed by God” and God as "the bread of life", other’s were much more surprising for instance God as “a sweet smelling savor” and as a laboring woman. Would love to read this one as a book study to discuss with others.
2. In the Sanctuary of Women by Jan L. Richardson. Written in a combined format of a daily devotional and as an informational text of historical accounts about the lives of notable Christian women including Eve, St. Brigid, Hildegard of Bingen, the Desert Mothers and others. This book has succeeded in capturing my heart for these sisters of faith. It requires a leisure pace and has been a reading in progress for several months. 
3. Eyes of the Heart by Christine V. Paintner.  The photographer in me is relishing this discussion of photography  as a spiritual practice. The work has opened my thinking to many new insights and practical suggestions to implement photography as a contemplative practice. 
4. No Man Is An Island by Thomas Moore. No doubt you will have heard of this classic and the renown Trappist Monk who wrote it. Although I was aware of the remarkable history of Moore’s devotion to a religious life of service, teaching, and writing; nothing compares to reading his own words. 
5. “Artful Blogging”, a magazine by Somerset Studio features the photographic beauty of several blogs in each issue. Pure eye candy for artistic photography and an interesting mix of tales about the blogging experience. Light and engaging creative inspiration.

Summer’s traditions include uninterrupted hours spent with well loved books. May you be blessed by an inspiring read as the cicadas sing and the porch swing glides.

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Linking with Still Saturday, Weekend Brew, Sunday Stillness, Coffee for Your Heart, & Tell His Story. Click on the buttons below to read other posts in these communities.