For daughter AE's birthday last week, I posted this picture on Facebook. I haven't looked at it for a long time, and it amazed me to see how young and thin Chuck and I were 33 years ago!

DC, Chuck, AE, and Jan 1982

Prays Well With Others

I post this on Facebook a few days ago. When I encountered a friend I rarely see, the father of one of my oldest child's friends, he called me a "heretic" for posting this. He walked away when another friend I said God is bigger than the names we give Him.

Say not, "I have found the one true path of the Spirit!"

Say rather, "I have wonderfully met the Spirit walking on my path."

For the spirit walks upon all paths.

~Kahlil Gibran

(Richard Rohr adapted this from Kahil Gibran, The Prophet (New York: Alfred a Knopf, 1923), p. 55 in Rohr's book Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi.)

My Sweet Granddaughters

Today AA, mother of my granddaughters, posted this cute picture of them on Facebook, so I am sharing it here.

Avery and Emma

Blogger Meet-Up

I finally had the opportunity to meet Sherry of many blogs! I am used to her Feather Adrift Blog, but am not sure if that is the correct title anymore.

Jan and Sherry in Las Cruces, NM on May 22, 2014

In fact, Chuck and I met Sherry and her husband and Diego, their dog. They generously took us out to dinner where we had some of the best cheese enchiladas we have ever had. This was a wonderful way to start our two-week trip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There has been a long absence from blogging: first I got sick with a bad cold, which was further complicated by an infection and the brief cessation of my RA drugs. I was amazed at how quickly the antiobiotics helped improve my health once I got a Z-pack. My rheumatologist told me that often when we get a cold, start to get better and then get sick again, we have caught an infection. So I learned that this time.

Then Chuck and I went on a two-week trip to the west and north, with our final destination being Salt Lake City to visit our youngest daughter MJ. I downloaded 353 pictures from my camera to my computer and so will be posting pictures in the coming weeks about our trip. I would like to record it for myself some way.

I did manage to get a few pics on Facebook about our trip, but these were from my I-phone. Now that Chuck has learned how to download I-pictures to the computer, maybe I'll have some of these here, too.

WE had a wonderful trip, meeting wonderful people and seeing beautiful sites.

Mother's Day

By Gertrud Mueller Nelson

I feel like my mother was a remarkable woman; she was talented in many ways and very loving, especially to me, her only child. We were good friends all my life, which is why I still miss her today on this American holiday of Mother's Day, even though she died 22 years ago.

As I ponder this, I realize that I never wondered that she might have missed her mother, too. Until I had children of my own, I never thought too much of my mother having emotions other than the irritation she sometimes exhibited towards my father and/or me, otherwise she was pleasant.

I suppose it is difficult to empathize with someone else's feelings unless one has experienced it in a similar capacity. She must have missed her family during all the years we moved around with my dad in the Marine Corps, but never shared anything with me. (I was self-centered and only thought of how moves were difficult for me!) When her parents died, she did not express her loneliness or regret at all. I was an adolescent at those time and would have been old enough to understand some of that--or so I think now.

I wish she had shared some of those feelings with me, but she was of the generation that did not complain. In fact, that is how she brought me up: "Don't bother people with your problems." It has taken me years to realize that expressing sad memories and/or emotions is not "complaining," which I am still learning how to do.

As people are expressing on FB and elsewhere, each female is the result of her mother and her children (if she has any). I am fortunate to have my four children, two with loving spouses, who are continuing to grow me into the person I am, as are my two granddaughters. I will always be thankful for the mother I had.

Happy Mother's Day to all: I hope you are able to treasure memories of your mother today.

The Art of Losing: Maundy Thursday

As I googled "stripping the altars" for Maundy Thursday, I came up with a link to a good article "Stripped Bare: Holy Week and the Art of Losing" in the May 16, 2012 issue of Christian Century. It was so good that I posted it on FB, which seems to be looked upon more frequently than this blog. I hope you'll read it.

The author of that article, Richard Lischer, pointed to a poem by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979), a new poet for me.

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15212#sthash.SpPvsGvI.dpuf

32nd Birthday!

Chuck posted this picture of our oldest daughter AE on Facebook today to wish her a happy birthday. (He also said this is the first time he has ever posted on FB.) Today she is 32 and about half my age. (I was 31 in this picture.) It is nice to remember her birth today and appreciate her life as our daughter. Happy Birthday!

one-day-old daughter, born March 8, 1982 and her mom, Jan

Helping Friends

After my last post, a blogging friend and other friends have reached out to me to give me support and encouragement. Today I found these words from Diane Walker, both on her Facebook page and on her blog Contemplative Photography:

Back in the days when we lived in Vermont, there were lots of jokes about taciturn Vermonters interacting with that most dreaded of species, the New Yorker.  And the punch line for one particularly amusing one I remember, uttered by an old Vermont farmer in that lovely accent they put on for strangers, was "you can't get theah from heah."

... which was what I heard when I looked at this photo: I mean, the gateway and path issue a lovely invitation, and there's a pretty cottage off in the distance, but the truth is -- you can't get there from here. There's actually a very deep body of water between here and there, not to mention a field thick with dune grass and a broken-down boardwalk through a marsh.

... which reminds me a bit of the spiritual journey: there have been, in my lifetime, any number of appealing and inviting paths I've pursued, only to find myself blocked at some unexpected point -- and frequently having to retrace my steps.

... which is, perhaps, the universe's way of reminding me -- as it says in Logion 3 of the Gospel of Thomas -- that the goal, the end point of this journey is not somewhere else: it's really right here. "Divine Reality exists inside and all around you," says Yeshua. "Only when you have come to know your true Self will you be fully known-- realizing at last that you are a child of the Living One."


By Diane Walker


Thank you, Diane!

Watch and Smile!

Post by Bhaskar Rao.

Friday Five: Too Late!!

Many apologies for this very late Friday Five. Going out of town all day and not paying attention to the calendar, I mistakenly thought I was bringing next week’s FF. So here goes:

Have you ever been late? List five ways you have been late, remembering it is “Never Too Late To Love!”

1. Late with today's Friday Five AND yesterday's Thursday Prayer
I seem to be forgetting dates lately, as I am overwhelmed with the possibility of writing (or not) the three scholarly papers for the Master's Degree in Theology from Oblate School of Theology.

I have lots of excuses but no papers, not even the topics chosen. How will I ever get this done by the end of this semester? Panic.

So with embarrassment and apologies, I commit to pay more attention. (This is especially ironic considering the weekly book study group I lead, The Wisdom Class, is reading and discussing Awareness by Anthony de Mello.)

2. Late with piano practicing.
As I posted on Facebook yesterday, I sometimes forget such daily (so-called) disciplines as practicing the piano and centering prayer. If I just get started each time, I recognize how much I love doing these activities. . . .

That is a perfect image to go along with today's mishap. It's a Bitstrip cartoon, which I discovered through several other RevGals on Facebook.

3. Forgotten appointment
Forgetting an appointment for a massage, my massage therapist called me up to remind me. I've seen her since 1995, and I appreciate our connection. This year she began to text me to remind me ahead of time!

4. Late with papers
This is the biggest laxity on my part that is plaguing me. Having grown up in a family where denial of alcoholism was major, I easily fall back into denial. That's the only way I can describe my lack of participation last semester--I blocked it out of my consciousness. During this time I celebrated the birth of our second granddaughter and visited her a lot. However, excuses don't help.

Another preoccupation was the gift of an Ipad for my birthday, and that is so much fun to play on.

My daughter AE gave me a funny book about the over-use of technology for Christmas (when all four children and their spouses were home!)--Good Night, Ipad! It is authored by "Ann Droyd."

5. Just late
As I have been writing this FF, I keep thinking of Saint Augustine:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

from The Confessions of Saint Augustine

Do Your Little Bit

Found on Facebook from Kissing Fish

And I just learned about and ordered the book Kissing Fish: Christianity for People Who Don't Like Christianity by the same person, Roger Woolsey. The Kindle edition only costs $3.03!

Humanity Is An Ocean

I loved this so much on Facebook that I had to post it on my blog. This image is a gift with all the disruption in the U.S. government right now.

Namaste Cafe also posted a lovely piece about Gandhi, so go here to read it.

Why I Read

Today is National Literacy Day!

Why I Read

“I read because one life isn’t enough, and in the page of a book I can be anybody;
I read because the words that build the story become mine, to build my life;
I read not for happy endings but for new beginnings; I’m just beginning myself, and I wouldn’t mind a map;
I read because I have friends who don’t, and young though they are, they’re beginning to run out of material;
I read because every journey begins at the library, and it’s time for me to start packing;
I read because one of these days I’m going to get out of this town, and I’m going to go everywhere and meet everybody, and I want to be ready.”

Richard Peck, Anonymously Yours

With thanks to Diane for posting this on Facebook. It is from here. 

Serenity Prayer for CLUTTER

I used to pray the Serenity Prayer every day. Today Sue Fitzmaurice posted this clutter version on Facebook. I need to start saying this more than once a day. It seems meant for me, especially because my favorite color is green--AND I have too much junk in my house!

Blogging Books!

My friend Linda sent this picture to me on Facebook. I liked it so much that I made it "my" icon for both FB and my blog. Sadly, it isn't seen too well in such a small square.

I have been reading a lot of books in the last month, although I must admit that I almost always read a lot. Going to Bellingham and Seattle, WA and to Salt Lake City, UT, I visited independent books stores and found new books and new authors at each one.

Plus, a FB friend has asked me twice to write about Richard Rohr's newest book, Immortal Diamond: The Search for Our True Self. As you may have guessed from Rohr's quotes from that book in the post below, I really, really like this book!

So I am committing to write about books for the next few weeks, especially since I will write about each chapter in Immortal Diamond and there are nine chapters. I have read some new mysteries with new authors (to me), some fiction and some philosophy/religion books.

In the last year or so, my inspiration for writing to my blog has diminished, but writing about books will help me have a my jumping-off point.

Please check each day about books I recommend!

(I will start tonight.)

Creativity and Connections

 

I have met thoughtful, interesting people through blogging. I consider them to be my friends. Now I find connections with them through Facebook and Pinterest. 

The soaring birds from the keys of a piano indicate creativity and maybe even ascending ecstasy and this was posted by Philomena Ewing, whom I first met at Blue Eyed Ennis.

This connected with an interesting article that artist Sybil Archibald posted on Facebook about creativity. I met her through her blog where she states that "making art is my spiritual path."

I also posted the article "The Creativity Crisis" by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman on Facebook where Quaker Dave, one of the first bloggers I ever met when I started blogging in 2006, posted it and said he was going to share it with his fellow teachers. High praise!

I've never felt I was "creative" but didn't know how to become so. Now that I am taking piano lessons, I understand that my brain has to be exposed to and grown in new connections for growth to occur. It seems like there has to be some foundation of structure, though I think some artists emerge out of "nowhere." Mistakenly, I thought that one was BORN with creativity or not, which meant that I was NOT. Plus, I isolated creativity to the arts and not other areas.

It is wonderful learning new things and ways of being!

Here is glimpse of "The Creativity Crisis:"

"Overwhelmed by curriculum standards, American teachers warn there’s no room in the day for a creativity class. Kids are fortunate if they get an art class once or twice a week. But to scientists, this is a non sequitur, borne out of what University of Georgia’s Mark Runco calls “art bias.” The age-old belief that the arts have a special claim to creativity is unfounded. When scholars gave creativity tasks to both engineering majors and music majors, their scores laid down on an identical spectrum, with the same high averages and standard deviations. Inside their brains, the same thing was happening—ideas were being generated and evaluated on the fly.

"Researchers say creativity should be taken out of the art room and put into homeroom. The argument that we can’t teach creativity because kids already have too much to learn is a false trade-off. Creativity isn’t about freedom from concrete facts. Rather, fact-finding and deep research are vital stages in the creative process. Scholars argue that current curriculum standards can still be met, if taught in a different way."

The article is worth reading, so go to "The Creativity Crisis."

Need a book??

My friend Fran (who blogs much more thoughtfully than I) posted this image about buying books on Facebook, and it aptly describes me:

Wealth Inequality in America

My daughter KA shared this on Facebook, and I keep thinking about it. Please watch:. Then you can tell me what you think.

Friday Five: Grateful Smiles!

For this Friday Five with RevGalBlogPals, we are going to tell of five things that make us smile.

1. I am smiling because my oldest daughter AE has written me two emails today! I also got an e-letter from a friend. It is so nice to get communication from dear people rather than just the email subscriptions and advertisements that are always popping up in my email account. Another sweet thing was a "thank you" on Facebook from Fran.

Margaret Faith White

2. I've been thinking of my mother a lot lately. She died 20 years ago and stories 
bring her to mind, just like her words about smiling.

Here is an early picture of my mother even before I ever knew her.

Grief is a long journey. I used to cry when I thought of her, missing her very much. Now I remember my mother with love and gratitude and smile. I also smile when I think of how much she would enjoy seeing and hearing about her grandchildren and great-grandchild Avery.

3. Stew is cooking in the crockpot. But what I am smiling about is that my husband Chuck browned the stew meat. I dislike doing that and wasn't going to do it all. Instead, he offered to and finished the job much more quickly than I ever do.

4. I smile when I hear the dinging sound on my Kindle Fire that someone has played Words with Friends with me! I don't often win, but I enjoy playing this scrabble type game with friends and sometimes my children. Only oldest son DC still plays with me, and he usually wins by 200+ points.

5. I am much happier when the sun is shining outside. Much of the year in south TX this makes it too hot as we have a 9-month "summer." But the gray drizzley days that are more common for the Pacific Northwest where I grew up are not much to my liking anymore. This morning it was chilly in the low 50s, but the sunshine made it cheery! (So it is also possible to hang clothes out on the clothesline.)

Mary, Mother of Our Tribe

By Ruth Councell in ECVA Exhibit

Just getting back to the computer today, I was cheered by seeing these different artists' renderings of Mary at the Episcopal Church Visual Arts "Mary, Mother of Our Tribe."

There are 40 pieces of art, each of which you may see more closely by clicking on them. They are unique and lovely. Catherine, a blogger I met at Come to the Table, linked this site on Facebook.

Here is another:

by Posey Krakowski (quilt)

By Chuck Kirchner (photo taken in Peru)

Go and look at "Mary, Mother of Our Tribe!"