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I have not been able to write lately. I’ve shown up and made an earnest effort.  I was able to write and post a blog article, so I must give myself credit for that. Especially since I have had many distractions over the past few weeks. I’ve been, as a mentor once described, “lifed”. For one thing I have been preparing for Easter. In the Episcopal tradition, we commonly have services on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday of Holy Week. They are my favorite services of the year as they provide a way of experiencing the intense emotions of Jesus’ death and Resurrection instead of simply hearing about what happened. While I won’t be leading the services this year, I have been invited to take part in the services hosted by a church nearby. I am most grateful to this loving community for welcoming me into their midst at this special time. Ken and I always prepare a special Easter dinner of fresh ham with citrus rum glaze, potatoes au gratin and coconut cream pie. That means shopping and prep work, of course, and attention to organizing. We prepared this feast a week early, which felt strange, but it also meant we didn’t have to cook once we got home from church. Everything turned out great and we enjoyed the delicious food thoroughly. The reason for that is that I am getting ready to go on a three-week trip to Ireland and the UK. I am so excited! My brother and I have been planning this adventure for several months and it seems unreal that the day of our departure is so very near. Our aim is to explore areas where our ancestors are from. My father’s side of the family, coming from near Wrexham in Wales and Plymouth in England, is very well documented and we have been in touch with local archivists and churches where we will be able to see records of our family lineage. Ken's family also hails from Breconshire, Wales and our plan is to spend some time in that area. My mother’s side of the family comes mostly from Ireland, and we don’t know much about them. Records are scarce, for one thing. The other thing is there seems to be some intrigue around my grandmother’s ancestors. My grandfather’s ancestors could hail back to an ancient clan of poets. In Celtic, my mother’s maiden name means “Sons of the Hounds of Meath” who were bards. The possibility of my being descended from bards is quite exciting, I think, but the information I might find will probably be found in local pubs and tea shops rather than libraries and archives. Regardless, this trip will be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure that I hope will give me new inspiration for my novel. Sometimes as writers we need to shake things up a bit and get out of our normal routine and have new experiences. I am looking forward to this precious opportunity. I also hope that seeing new places and meeting new people will give me some much-needed perspective on life in general. Believe it or not, it has been nearly a year since my retirement. I’ve had the chance to do much healing, to try new things. I’ve discovered how important writing is to me and how much I love being able to have time and energy to devote to it. I am thankful to be part of a supportive, inspiring online writing community that has become important to me. All of this has been very good. I no longer want to hold back, to keep writing on a shelf and taking it down every so often. How can I commit more fully to what I feel is a genuine call to be a writer. My hope and prayer is that exploring my ancestry and being in places known for being inspiring might give me some incentive and a better sense of direction. No matter what, I will come home changed some way or other. I’m ready. It’s the season of new life, after all, and the time couldn’t be more right!

“It’s a Siberian Elm,” said the Arborist we had hired to evaluate and trim the trees on our property, “You can’t kill ‘em.” This was good news as we are both unrepentant tree huggers. We have several trees on our property – maples and oaks in the back, ornamental trees in the front. We love them all, but the elm was the biggest and most magnificent. Standing at the edge of our back deck, we appreciated the shade it gave every summer. The rocking chair on the screened-in side porch faced the tree, which became my prayer partner on balmy mornings. It was an infestation of carpenter ants that finally did our old friend in. As winter was ending, we again summoned the Arborist, thinking we would only need to have the tree trimmed. “You have a pretty bad split there,” he said, pointing to the trunk, shaking his head sadly. The tree had become dangerous, and we had no choice. Signing the estimate for the work felt like signing an execution warrant. We cried as we said prayers of thanksgiving and bid our friend farewell. Now our beloved elm no longer hovers high above our house. It always had such a big presence; it’s been hard to get used to it not being there. I will miss having it as my prayer partner when I am able to sit out on the side deck to say Morning Prayer. We wonder if the resident owls will still hoot at us on sleepless summer nights. Life goes on. We have ordered an oak tree which should be planted in a month or so. To welcome our new resident, we are planning a tree blessing party. While the oak will not be like our elm, it will grow into the creature God intended it to be. We will make new memories which will nestle in our hearts alongside the old. The sacred circle of life will go on. I don’t write a lot of poetry, but it seemed appropriate to write a poem to honor the life of a faithful old tree. Farewell, old friend, dear sister, my partner in prayer on soft summer mornings when the whispering of your branches joined my voice to form a holy community. I will miss the shade you so compassionately provided on steamy afternoons. My world will be poorer without your looming presence – so familiar these many years. The squirrels who cavorted up and down your noble trunk, the birds who nested in your branches where in time fledglings launched their maiden flights. Where will they go now? Where will the two resident owls perch as they hoot together and comfort me on sleepless nights? They will all miss you, even though in time they will surely move on to other trees. I will always remember you, God’s creature, blessed yet mortal, as we all are. The love you gave will live on in the hearts of those who knew you, those who will talk fondly of you in years to come. Farewell, old friend, may you rest in peace.

I am about three years old and it is bedtime. I’m all scrubbed and buttoned into my Dr. Dentons snuggling next to my mother who has been reading Alice in Wonderland to me. “Soup, soup of the evening,” she sings when she gets to the Mock Turtles song. I am hooked. I was reading on my own just a couple of years later, again, thanks to my mother. She taught me how to sound words out – syllable by syllable, which I picked up on quickly and was soon able to read simple stories. I’ve been a “bookworm” ever since. Which is why I’m a writer! I can spend hours lost in the pages of a book with an engaging plot and characters to whom I can relate. I know what it is like to read the last few words with a feeling of satisfaction because I sense I have been changed somehow by reading that book. My dream since earliest childhood has been to write my own book. How amazing it would be to pass on that feeling of satisfaction to others. And so, I write. And of course, I read! A colleague recently advised that as writers we should write a lot more about reading than we do about writing. She is right! It’s wonderful to share something about why and how I write and the joys and frustrations of the writing life. I love reading about those things from fellow writers. But ultimately, I want to engage with people who love to read. People who, like me, have several bookshelves crammed with all sorts of books, including books they consider favorites. So, I perused my bookshelves and came up with an initial list of ten of my favorites. This is only an initial list of my favorite non-fiction books in no particular order. My hope is to share more lists of favorites from time to time. This is not an extensive book review, merely sharing something of why these books mean something to me. 1.     The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien. The first thing I did when I moved to Chicago after grad school was take out a library card. I was still waiting for furniture to arrive as I lay on my sleeping bag on the floor of my studio apartment and read the trilogy in two days. I have read it many times since and would have to say these are my all-time favorite books. I am fascinated with the world that Tolkien created. It contains an epic battle between good and evil. It has a determined hero whose quest changes him as much as it changes the world. And it contains a message that is as relevant today as it was when the books were published. 2.    For similar reasons I love the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. I had to read it after I saw it instill a love of reading in a recalcitrant pre-teen boy. He was so excited about reading them, he couldn’t wait for the next book to come out and that is something I pay attention to! I found myself enjoying it every bit as much. Engaging characters, a struggle between good and evil. A world that is so engagingly presented I really felt I was living in it. Another series I’ve read multiple times. The books were published after I went to Seminary – an experience I realized was an awful lot like going to Hogwarts! 3.    Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I read this after having watched the movie starring Julia Roberts and, as usual, found the book even more engaging. I was moved by this heroine’s journey as she struggles to find true meaning in her life. I particularly appreciate her use of gentle humor which goes to show that spiritual quests can bring into your life people and experiences that make you smile. 4.    “Memory, Sorrow and Thorn” by Tad Williams. I read “The Green Tower” which is Part III of this trilogy first. I found it so engaging I had to go back and read the first two books. I was drawn into the world of the book by the vivid descriptions of the places, in particular, and found it a satisfying read. The three books are on my shelf, and I will read them again. 5.    A Piece of the World and The Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. I find the characters especially engaging in both works. I got interested in historical fiction when I took a course called “American History Through Fiction” my first semester in college and I have loved it ever sense. The skillful blending of real historical events and compelling characters caught and held my interest. 6.    Bullet in the Chamber by Johan DeDakis. There’s nothing like a good murder mystery or spy novel, especially one that takes place in the White House and whose protagonist is a gutsy White House reporter named Lark Chadwick. She’s who I want to be when I grow up! The plot is fast-paced and makes this book a real “page turner”. DeDakis was a Senior Copy Editor for CNN before becoming a novelist and he certainly uses that experience to enhance the storytelling. 7.    Anything by Anne Rice. I’ll admit it, every now and then I enjoy a good vampire story, of which Anne Rice is the master. Again, I get so drawn into the world she creates and am awed by the imagination that has gone into it. Yes, there’s a lot of darkness and violence but those things in her books are part and parcel because they are naturally part and parcel of life. I’ve never felt they were gratuitous. And it takes a lot of skill to make a vampire a compelling character! 8.    Anything by Stephen King. Most recently I read The Gunslinger and other parts of his The Dark Tower series. I continue to be amazed by the imagination that goes into the bizarre worlds he creates. Again, they are often dark, violent worlds but sometimes that’s part of life I need to engage with and how better to do that than by the works of a master storyteller. 9.    Big Trouble by Dave Barry. Humor is important in life, and nobody makes me laugh the way Dave Barry does. This book is a permanent resident of my bookshelf but any of his books or articles are hilarious. Yet his humor says something about the state of our world and that is what I most appreciate. The laughter gets mingled with tears sometimes because while I’m laughing, I realize he’s said something dead-serious about some aspect of our broken world that would be incredibly sad if he hadn’t framed it so outrageously. 10. The Far Side by Gary Larsen. My husband is a Gary Larsen fanatic and that brushed off on me. He says he appreciates the sarcasm and I agree. The zany humor makes me laugh but as I’m laughing, I suddenly realize I’ve been hit with a sharp bite of reality. That makes me think about whatever the cartoon is about and I really value that.

When I realized Ash Wednesday falls on Valentine’s Day this year, my first thought was “Drat. No molten lava cakes.” Indulging in this special treat has been a Valentine’s tradition my husband and I have kept since discovering the recipe on a favorite tv cooking show. I was raised in a tradition in which keeping a holy lent meant giving up desserts, candy, and the like for Lent. So, giving up lava cakes seemed the right thing to do. Especially on Ash Wednesday, a solemn day that is supposed to be spent in repentance, fasting, and reflecting on our mortality. A recent death in our family made me especially aware of the later theme. As the priest smeared ashes on my forehead, the words, “Remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return” hit me more powerfully than usual. Life is short and each day is precious. The reality is we don’t know how much time we will have here on this earth. It seems important, then, to tell those closest to us how much we love them every day. Perhaps that’s as much part of how we can keep a holy lent as fasting and repentance. For early Christians, Lent was a time during which converts to the faith were prepared for Baptism, which took place on Easter. Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of a process of preparation which involved not only the converts, but all members of the local Christian community. Everyone walked together, experienced Christians along with new converts, supporting and encouraging one another. The closest experience I’ve had of that is when I’ve been part of Lenten Soup Suppers. This tradition, still practiced in many churches, gives a special opportunity for communities to gather one evening a week during Lent. Participants share a simple meal, pray together, and engage in some kind of learning. These experiences change the focus from individuals “giving up something for Lent” to a community whose participants are on a journey together. Yes, this journey goes through Good Friday and the cross. It involves repentance, forgiving and being forgiven. It’s a journey, however, that ultimately leads to Easter and the joy of realizing we’ve been transformed by God’s love. Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day are both about love. It is God’s love that calls us to repentance. It is God’s love that gives us the strength and courage to forgive and be forgiven. It is God’s love that transforms us not only as individuals, but as community – whether it be a community of two or two hundred. That’s the amazing thing about God’s love. And even on Ash Wednesday, that is something to celebrate! `So Ken and I decided to do just that. To be sure, we both observed the solemnities of Ash Wednesday. We both have made a commitment to keep a holy Lent. But as evening came, we took some time to honor our love for each other. I cooked a special dinner for two. We exchanged silly cards and some laughs. And yes, we thoroughly enjoyed indulging in our traditional molten lava cakes.

This is a selection of the Hiking Diary I started writing last summer. I pulled it out this dreary winter day as a way of dreaming of hiking to come. I am on the trail early this morning reflecting on two hikes I took last week. Both were triumphs in that I finally reached my goal of hiking as far as the shelter on not one but two stretches of the Appalachian Trail (AT). Several years ago, I spent a week hiking the AT from the Maryland border north to the Harrisburg area with a group. It was an amazing adventure and ever since I have regularly hiked two stretches of the AT near my house. I remembered that there were shelters we had stopped at along both sections and yet I never passed them. I was working then, of course, and there always seemed to be time constraints preventing me from venturing as far along the trail as I would have liked. Since retiring, however, I have delighted in hiking farther and farther up my favorite trails, relishing the luxury of not having to hurry home. I began to wonder if I could reach the shelters and looked them up in maps I found online. Sure enough, the distance calculator indicated that both shelters were roughly an hour’s journey from their respective trailheads. I was on a mission! I began making a determined effort to hike as far as the shelters before turning back on these trails. A week ago, I made it to the shelter on one stretch of the trail, which wound and stretched tantalizingly through the lush late-summer woods. I had no time constraints. I was simply curious about each bit of the trail as it loomed before me, wondering if what I sought might be just around each bend. This was discouraging at times, when I got to where I could see beyond the bend only to find nothing but the trail winding ahead. Still, I hiked on. Finally, there it was. The rough wood of the lean-tos appeared just ahead. Smiling as my steps took on new energy, I moved forward, rejoicing. I had been hiking for just over an hour. Several days later I had a similar experience on another section of the trail. This time, in addition to making it to the lovely shelter that has a glider chair in which to relax.  In so doing, I had to hike a gorgeous section of the trail lined with rhododendrons on each side that formed arches over it. I remembered this section as I remembered the shelter but had never hiked far enough to reach either. It felt so good to have set and accomplished these goals. Today, I am in a more somber state of mind. It was one of those mornings in which life weighed on me as heavily as the late summer air and it took great effort to get my gear together and drive to the State Park a mile and a half or so from my house. Over the years, this trail has become my default trail since it is so close and is also easy to walk. The last thing I needed this morning was a challenge. Hiking has a way of clearing my mind, giving me fresh perspectives and creative ideas. I felt my spirit becoming lighter and my body more energetic as I passed the first of two side trails – the one I usually avoid. A short way up the trail I slowed down searching for the second. This trail is flat and the woods it passes through have an almost magical quality to them. But it being late summer, the trails had all become thick with vegetation. Side trails were not easy to see. Searching as I might, I couldn’t see the second trailhead and I soon found that I had worked my way back to the first. I paused, considering. I was not feeling ambitious, and this side trail goes up a steep hill. I usually avoid it for just that reason! Perhaps, I thought, I needed to call it a day and accept that a short hike was better than no hike at all. Nevertheless, I started up the trail that was every bit as steep and stony as I remembered. The farther I went, the more often I had to stop, panting. My feet began to rebel against having to walk on so many rocks and stones. For some reason I continued. I went on until I realized I had hiked further up the trail than I ever had before. Even with my downright resistance, even without my having challenged myself, I had stretched myself. Pretty amazing! I headed back reflecting on how our spiritual journey is so much like a trail. Some parts are smooth and pleasant, while others are rocky and steep. Some days it seems we go forward with confidence and strength; eager to take on any challenge. God leads us, upholds us, loves us through these parts, bringing us rejoicing to our goal. Other days we long for flat trails that represent no challenge. We travel with excess weight and struggle with every step. God is there, compelling us, protecting us, loving us through it all and bringing us to a place of wonderment at having done more than we could have asked for or imagined with the grace of God’s help.

My husband Ken joins me for this post in which we offer some reflections on what it means to “do unto others”. It seems to us that the world has become less “kinder and gentler” in recent years. It’s not only wars going on in the world and violence in our own streets, but harsh, ugly words being spoken in our universities, corporations, government, and churches. Quite frankly, we’re tired of seeing and hearing almost daily showings of hatred towards our neighbors.  Just because someone is a little different from you, does not make them wrong and you right. Perhaps it’s time to get back to some of the basics of our faith and remind ourselves of what Jesus taught. Here are some translations of a couple of key Bible passages for reflection. Notice how they all say the same thing, just with different words. NRSV Luke 6:31 – “Do to others as you would have them do to you” Matthew 7:12 – “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets”. The Cotton Patch Gospel Luke 6:31 – “Just as you want people to act towards you, You act the same way towards them”. Matthew 7:12 – “Therefore, in all your dealings with people, treat them as you want to be treated.  This, in a nutshell, is the essence of all our moral and religious principles”. First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation Luke 6:31 – “Help others in the same way you want them to help you.” Matthew 7:12 – “Whatever good you want others to do for you is what you should do for them.  This is the whole purpose of the instructions from Drawn from the Water (Moses) and the words spoken by the prophets. Ken: A wise pastor friend of mine once told me, “We can’t learn anything from anyone if, first: we don’t communicate with them and second: we don’t treat them with the respect and dignity we want to get from them”.  WOW!!  What a concept.  Treat someone with the respect and dignity you want to get from them.  If only it were that simple in daily life! Nothing is accomplished by brandishing a weapon, heading into a school, post office, place of worship, etc., then shooting up the place because you have some dumb ax to grind, or because someone doesn’t look or worship the way you think they should.  If you just took the time to sit and talk with them, then maybe, just maybe you’d see we are all human beings loved by God and created in God’s image. Linda: It seems we’ve gotten away from the notion of “live and let live.” I heard this a lot in the small town I grew up in. Not that we didn’t have our problems, but in general folks respected one another and when anyone needed anything, we worked together to help as we could. Life wasn’t idyllic, but there was a sense of peace and dignity about it. Something seems to have changed in recent years. There is, to me, a sense that everyone must look after themselves and less and less sense of interdependence and community. I see and hear calls to some ideal of “rugged individualism” instead of the ideal of loving one another as Jesus taught. Ken: I see that in Political hatred, which is a big concern of mine.  It’s not just our own government, there are other countries with this problem, as well. Since I’m familiar with ours, I’ll use that for this point. Does anyone remember the days in which political parties worked together?  Crossing the aisle to pass legislation was a daily occurrence, as was compromise and civility.  Now people with differing political viewpoints can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.  Instead, they get in each other’s faces and yelling and screaming is the norm.  Passing legislation for the good of the country seems to be the farthest thing from their minds.  All legislators care about is finding a camera to stand in front of so they can blame the other party for everything that’s wrong with the government. Linda: It’s a sad situation, especially when I remember that not all that long ago, we were fond of saying that there wasn’t much difference between each party’s viewpoints. Now one hesitates to express one’s views lest an argument break out. Having been a pastor, I see how much political and religious differences are splitting apart families, churches and communities. We can go on and on talking about racism, religious intolerance, the emergence of hate groups whose members feel entitled to spew blatant lies, but we won’t.  Instead, we’re going to take the time to stop, meditate and pray more people finally wake up to what is going on. As followers of Jesus, we’re committed to treating everyone with the respect and dignity we want to get from them. We’re going to take the time to get to know them, listen and learn.  We just may find we have more in common than we once thought. A Native American friend of Ken’s once told him, “The best way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend”.  That is our heartfelt prayer.  Join us, please.

The custom of making New Year’s resolutions is as old as humankind. The first record of it dates to the ancient Babylonians. Even today, in a world so vastly different from theirs, many of us sit down and dutifully make our resolutions for the New Year. If your resolutions are anything like mine, they are usually trashed by Groundhog Day! Life intervenes and unexpected obligations interrupt our time at the gym. Or we get a care package from a favorite aunt whose homemade treats we’ve never been able to resist. Most of us, in our enthusiasm for new beginnings, usually set overly ambitious expectations that are pretty much doomed from the start. And for me anyway, I had to be honest with myself that as worthy as my resolutions usually seemed, I usually made them because they seemed good things to do, or some expert recommended them. So, this year, I’ve tried to let all that go and really listen to my heart; asking God to guide me with love and grace. That has been a challenge, but over time a few things have bubbled up from a place deep within that feel organic and honest. I’m calling them intentions. I like that word because it honors the distinction between grace-filled nudges I’m aligning my heart to and arbitrary goals/objectives to be sweated and stewed over. These intentions bring me closer to God and as such feel more compelling and life-giving than any resolutions ever did. The biggest one that has emerged is a renewed focus and determination to finish writing the first draft of my novel by the end of the year. 2024 will be the tenth anniversary of its birth and over the years it has grown, deepened, taken root by fits and starts. The time seems right. My creative energy is higher than it has been. I am part of a writing community I trust for support and accountability. It’s time. I also have discovered energy for my newly hatched blog, something I never expected. Keeping a blog going will be a challenge, not to mention dealing with the level of technology involved. I’m not exactly sure what it wants to be, but that’s okay. I’m curious and eager to find out! The time seems right for me to tackle something like this and it feels good. Stay tuned as the next blog post will introduce my husband, Ken, as we have some fun and share our thoughts on the deep meaning of “Do unto others”. Hiking is very much on my heart and mind, and I can’t wait to hit the trail! How I miss the fresh air, sunshine, and the energy of physical movement. Of course, that means I need to find ways of getting out of winter hibernation mode and getting the exercise I need so as to be fit come spring. The later statement, by the way seems way more compelling than my default resolution of “go to the gym every day.” To welcome and honor these intentions, I am learning it is necessary to let go of a lot more things than I ever expected. What surprised me is the more I reflected on these intentions, the more I became aware of old habits, attitudes, assumptions as well as spiritual, emotional, and material clutter that are clearly holding me back. But again, instead of seeing these things as the fodder for resolutions, I see them simply as part and parcel of moving wholeheartedly towards the new. I pray I may have the grace to do the hard work of letting go. The reassuring thing about intentions is that at least for me, they invite much closer, deeper contemplation. I am being drawn to keep listening to God working within me. I want to offer to God the joys and frustrations as I work with all the facets of these intentions each day. God’s love is in and through it all. I give thanks for the blessings and abundance I encounter each day and ask for God’s compassionate guidance to lead me through the hard parts. My prayer for all of you is that as we begin this New Year, you may be blessed with compelling heart-nudges – divine sparks of energy illuminating the path God is leading inviting you to walk. May you graciously respond to these holy invitations. And may this year bring you delight in unexpected joys, deep peace on the most difficult days and above all, deepening awareness of God’s loving presence in all things.

I’m convinced more than ever this year that the real meaning of Christmas can easily be lost when we look up – up to a remote heavenly being who will magically shower us with peace and goodwill. We’re so used to the Christmas celebration our culture prescribes – the shopping, eating, drinking, decorating - that we lose touch with what we’re celebrating. What we celebrate is the birth of a human baby. This baby was born exactly the way all of us are born, and that couldn’t have been the pretty scene pictured on Christmas cards. Jesus was a fully human baby boy whose parents were refugees, far from home. Shepherds were his first visitors. I’ve been wondering this year about blonde-haired angels all pretty and dressed in white suddenly appearing in the sky above. Perhaps the messengers who told the shepherds about this birth were much quieter, much more earthy; messengers who call us to look down. Maybe the sheep were the messengers! Maybe one shepherd had a dream, or a thought gnawing at him. Who knows? One way or another, the shepherds knew deep down inside that God was at work and they set out, seeking. It’s not as if they had a GPS indicating the shortest route to the stable – they had to look around, down, looking not in heaven but right here on earth. In this humble seeking, they found the child and they were amazed. Here was a ordinary baby born in a cave and laying in an animal feeding trough. Yet this baby’s face reflected God’s unconditional love. In seeing this child born quietly on the margins of society, they understood they too were beloved children of God! Imagine that! Simple shepherds who weren’t welcome in the social, political and religious structures of their day were loved. In Jesus the ordinary, the despised were suddenly precious. And that’s the message of Christmas. God’s love, so encompassing, longs to embrace us, to draw us in ever closer. Union with God is God’s will for all creation – something only God’s freely given grace can accomplish. And we can only do that by looking down. By paying attention to the material world, by casting aside our pretty notions and understanding that God is in and through all things. That means God encounters us right where we are. God’s love is at work in all places, all times, all things. God’s love works in us right here and right now. We can only understand that by letting go. By emptying ourselves so that God’s love can fill us. In so doing we are enfolded ever more deeply into the source of all being. And that makes a difference in how we live our lives. We begin to see God at work in all creation, in all people. We become less concerned with ascribing to the “correct” dogmas that will one day get us into heaven and more concerned with seeking God’s kingdom in the here and now. Hatred and fear will make less and less sense. A new honesty about ourselves and all the ways we put assumptions, prejudices and hierarchies ahead of God’s mission will emerge. We come to understand that love really is stronger than hate. That God is not a vengeful, angry God who requires blood sacrifice. God is pure, unconditional love and in this love all people, all creatures, all life are truly brothers and sisters. The more we live into this by engaging in both contemplation and active participation in the world, the more willing we’ll be to give voice to the voiceless and to insist on social structures that truly honor this reality. I share these Christmas reflections with a heartfelt prayer that you will truly feel and respond to God’s love this holy season and throughout the new year.

My sixth grade reading teacher gave us an assignment: to think of a story to write and prepare an outline. Embracing this assignment with gusto, I sat down after school and wrote a story about two children who were kidnaped by a spaceship. Thus began my affinity for writing science fiction. The same reading teacher had us reading sci fi as well. She introduced me to the works of Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov, which I devoured like fine chocolate. Later I discovered a similar taste for fantasy. The Lord of the Rings remains my absolute favorite and I’ve read the entire Harry Potter series multiple times. So, it’s not surprising that nearly ten years ago I began to write a sci fi trilogy. Ideas for such an opus had been with me for several years, and a sabbatical gave me the opportunity to start to put words on paper. Ever since, I’ve written hundreds of pages. I’ve considered and rejected numerous ideas; even scrapping the whole thing and starting over more than once. Writing it has been exciting, frustrating, and long, hard work. Yet somehow the concept and characters continue to gnaw at me, to develop and deepen. Lately I’ve come to trust that and let go of my need to have everything flow effortlessly whenever I put pen to paper. My biggest learning is writing a novel is more about getting myself out of the way and letting the words come however imperfectly. The editing (a whole different process) will come later. The ideas and words flow more easily when my inner editor is turned off. I’ve also learned that authors rarely sit down and pound out the whole draft from start to finish! When I started, I assumed I’d be able to do that, which led to lots of frustration, as you can imagine. I have learned the wisdom of outlining, thinking through the “road map” so that I have a guide when I start writing. I’ve recently begun making a detailed outline, which has already given me surprising insights and clearer sense of where everything is going. People seem surprised when I tell them I’m writing a sci-fi trilogy. “But you’re a priest,” they say.   Of course, that’s how they know me. Also, I don’t give the impression of being interested in science and my personality seems more suited to writing about spiritual matters. For those see a disconnect between science and religion, I talk about one of the most interesting courses I took in seminary. It was taught by The Rev. Dr. John Polkinghorne, who was a theoretical physicist and Anglican priest. I highly recommend his books, which are all about how science and religion address aspects of the same reality. In other words, God is big enough to embrace both! God gave us minds, after all, and made us capable of discovering all the wonders of how the world works. The work of research, of asking questions, developing hypotheses can be holy work. We can use the knowledge of science for good or ill, of course (that theme is in my trilogy) but that is our choice. Also, I’ve always believed that fiction conveys deep truths in a more accessible way than non-fiction. That’s why Jesus told parables! Through these stories, he gives us a powerful way of not only learning his teachings with our head, but of experiencing them in our heart. I believe that creativity and imagination are gifts from God because God is infinitely creative and imaginative. The more I engage in the spiritual practices of meditation and contemplation, the more receptive I seem to be to authentic creativity (a creativity coming from deep within my true self instead of being imposed). I am a priest who is writing a sci fi trilogy about three planets who share a terrible history. The main characters embark on an interplanetary quest to discover this history and in finding it, learn how to save these planets from imminent destruction. My “big, hairy, audacious” dream is that it will be published one day. For now, I am finding the process of writing it to be engaging and meaningful. It is a process that I look forward to sharing with you from time to time!

I’ve been a hiker all my life. The thirty wooded acres behind the house where I grew up became my second home as I spent long, luxurious hours walking through them. Today I am blessed to live close to the Appalachian Trail as well as other beautiful places in which to hike. When on the trail I find myself giving into the rhythm of my steps, my breathing. Everything else goes away for awhile and there is only myself and God. Self-awareness, creative ideas and spiritual insights come much more easily. After I retired I began recording some of those ideas in a hiking diary, which I will be sharing with you from time to time. The following is an entry from September. It’s a cloudy day and I am really need this hike, even though my old bones are resisting any thought of moving. The weather is so lovely today that it beckons me outdoors and I manage to get organized and to the trail. It is my “default” trail, close to my house, comfortable, familiar, exactly what I need today. Once I’m on it, my aches and pains give way to the sheer joy of being outdoors and moving. Fall is my favorite season and this early October day the woods are showing fall in all its glory. Animal scat is a reality of being on the trail. After all the woods are full of all kinds of creatures. But today I encounter some scat that doesn’t look like anything I’ve encountered. It seems relatively fresh and I’m thankful I didn’t step in it. I continue to saunter along, wondering what creature might have left the scat. Suddenly, I realize what I saw could be bear scat! I hear of bears being sited here and it is the time of year they would be out and about, so it makes sense. On my way back down the trail, I take a moment to snap a photo, which I text to my husband, Ken. He gets right back to me – yes, this is definitely bear scat – he’s seen lots of it before. I can’t say I felt scared on learning that, but I sure took a very good look around me! Ken proceeds to text me detailed instructions about what to do if I encounter a bear, which sweet of him. It’s always reassuring to know someone wants you to be safe. Ken has encountered bears before and lived to tell the tale, so you bet I paid attention. “Talk out loud, yell even. If a bear is in the vicinity, they’ll try to avoid you. If you actually see one, back away slowly, yelling/shouting and don’t run.” I can do that. Good to know! Then the next text read, “figure which way the breeze is blowing and stay downwind of them.” Since there was no breeze to speak of, I had less success with this, but I figured I was close to my car in the parking lot and I’d be okay. My husband’s loving advice gave me permission to sing today, so I sang my way home with gusto. Doing so reminded me of how delightful singing is for my soul. That it keeps bears away is simply icing on the cake!

Retiring from full-time employment has led me, as retirement does for many, to an identity crisis. Who am I without responsibilities? Do I matter anymore? I missed being “on the go”. I wondered if I’d find enough things with which to occupy my time and my mind. Most of all I missed the deep sense of community that comes with being Rector of a close-knit parish for over seventeen years. Some seven months into this new phase of life I’m slowly finding my way. And the exciting thing is my way is leading me back to deep roots that had been buried by my over-busy workaday world. For one thing, I’m reconnecting with the joy of writing I had as a child. While on Sabbatical nearly ten years ago, I started writing a sci-fi trilogy. I’ve typed reams of paper over the years and although I never got too far, the ideas and the message I have in mind have stayed with me. I’ve spent considerable time over the past few months working on my opus with renewed vigor. With time on my hands, I’ve become part of a wonderful community of writers who meet daily via zoom to meditate and write. I’ve also taken a class on how to outline a novel, which has converted me from a dedicated “pantser” to finding satisfaction in organizing before I write. One of my hopes in writing this blog is to be able to share some of the process that I pray will lead to the realization of a life-long dream to be a published author. I also, of course, remain a priest in the Episcopal Church. I am finding new energy in being mendicant for now, travelling through our Diocese doing Sunday supply. I feel blessed to be able to provide the Sacraments and preach wherever those things are needed. About the time I quit my job as a magazine editor many years ago to go to Seminary, I was professed as a member of the Third Order, Society of St. Francis. I have been a Tertiary for nearly thirty years, impossible as that seems. I’ve long had an affinity for the “poor man from Assisi” and my Third Order brothers and sisters continue to be beacons of faith. A rather unexpected delight is that I am delving much more deeply into Franciscan spirituality. God has placed this call before me and it feels like a breath of fresh air. I have always been a Franciscan and I it is a joyful blessing to rediscover that. God has blessed me with so much. I have found myself part of new, unexpected communities. My days are filled, but not overly so, with things to do that give my life meaning and richness. I am learning the incredible value of slowing down, of emptying, of letting go. I have purposely kept this blog and this website simple out of a desire to let it develop however God guides it. It will be a sacred journey for me and I extend a heartfelt invitation for you to come, too.