DUST AND GRIME

Today's big event was the beginning of the mini-blind cleaning challenge. I finished up the inside window pane cleaning challenge that my sister and I were doing and so must move on to the blinds and the woodwork so that I am ready to do the OUTSIDE window panes when the weather turns warm.

I don't do curtains or drapes. When I did have drapes they were hung OUTSIDE of the window frame. I want as much of the natural outside light as possible to come into the rooms because light adds so much to one's sense of well being. In a cape it can be dismal; and the winter months are oppressive.

When we put on the second floor, I wanted LOTS of windows. And I got them. Three pair across the front and one on each end. The bathroom in the back has ample window space also. Of course these eight windows added six mini-blinds to the count. The light that streams into our open second level is worth the mini-blind cleaning. I guess. This is the first effort and why I am having to face so much dust and grime -- I am really bad about the dust cloth thing.

Bill to the rescue. He fashioned a mini-blind tub from two wall paper hanging tubs, cutting off one end of each one and putting them back together as one. Today was the first cleaning endeavor. Works great.

As is the case with most projects, this one is entailing more that I had planned. Mini-blinds come long. Too long for most windows. When we put them up we just put them up and let the excess sit on the window sill. Not very attractive. So now that I am into the cleaning, I am also into having them 'right.' Patience and care are required to be able to cut just the right strings to remove the correct number of slats. AND the main cords cannot be cut too short or...... Right! Just made it with this first one.

I am happy to be energized. I am happy to have this simple project which is a physical activity that allows my brain to ponder aimlessly on whatever happens to flit through. I love to ponder. And I am happy to be accomplishing something purposeful too. Clean is good.

ASHES/DUST, DUST/ASHES

Frankly, I am not happy about the dust thing. The story just doesn't hold water. If you go to Genesis 2:7 it says, "...then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, ..." No WOman, just man.Then a few verses later God decides to form woman from one of the ribs of the man. This creation story just stinks. It puts woman in the position of being the possession of man aside from being an afterthought when all else had been created.

Better is the creation story in Genesis 1:27 which says, "So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." Here it is separate and equal -- in the image of God. I eversomuch more like being God's image that dust.

And so into Lent we go.

RIGHT TURNS AND LEFT TURNS

There is a new steering wheel cover on my car. We got it so that the chill of the steering wheel would not penetrate my gloves and render my fingers blue and numb. It works!

The steering wheel cover in not all that thick but it is of a fleecy variety that has a definite nap to it. Run my hands clockwise around it and it is wonderfully smooth. Counterclockwise scruffy. SO.. when making right hand turns the wheel slides smoothly back through my hand rendering the cover sleek and silky. Left hand turns -- not so much -- scruffy and not pretty.

My routine trips are just that, routine round trips. Out from home and back again. Now one would assume that these routine trips would include an equal number of right turns and left turns. Decidedly not. There are just more left turns in my life than right turns. Or so it would seem.

It was only a few days of this smooth/scruffy experience for me to figure out the right turn/left turn thing. And, of course, being me, I pondered on these things. Could I equate this experience to right turn/wrong turn. Wrong is so much more obvious than right. Perhaps it was the obvious that was apparent. This thinking led me further -- are there unequal right turns and wrong turns of life. And further, am I making more wrong ones than right ones? And even further -- how would I know?

This kind of thinking happens to me a lot. I seem to turn the simplest of circumstances into broad psychological/theological/ethical reasoning. Sometimes that is a good thing, sometimes not. But it will always be. As I get older, however, I would like to be eliminating the wrong turns in my life.

I will continue to ponder on these things.

Lent is upon us.

INTO THE SILENCES

Our priest, revLois, has introduced periods of silence into our worship. It began the first Sunday in Advent and the silences were short. The first silence just before the confession during the Penitential Order; the second after the sermon, the third during the Eucharist just after the breaking of the consecrated bread.

The silences were very short in the beginning, lengthening week by week. I welcome these silences. They help me to focus on my worship 'business' at appropriate times. Before the confession I have the opportunity to consider more deeply those things that I have done and those that I have left undone. It is an opening up to God. It is a cleansing time, even before the absolution.

The silence after the sermon is, of course, time to reflect upon what the sermon says to me. At first there was much rustling of service leaflets and general fidgeting in the congregation. But as the season of Advent progresses, the silences are becoming still. We reflect. We sit in the quiet. Perhaps we just rest ourselves from the week's busyness. Whatever. We are still. We are in silence with God.

Just before receiving God's spiritual food is the best silence of all. A time to truly appreciate the gifts we are about to receive. A time to fully remember that we are the People of God. We are in the company of all God's people everywhere. ALL God's People.

I try to take the practice of silence home with me. It is not the same. There is just something enormously special about the corporate silence, just as corporate worship is special and different from my private worship. I will look forward to the silences next Sunday.

COMMENTS

Please read Lois' "Upon Moderating comments" over on Rambling's With Lois. I seem to have been hit by the same person. I think I now have my blog set to moderate comments. I don't like doing it as much as Lois does not like it. Sometimes things are just necessary for our own sanctity and those of our readers.

Sorry to any of you who were subjected to the off subject comment.

THE UPPER ROOM

WE are in the upper room. Grace Church is in that upper room. The disciples did not know how to cope without Jesus. They locked themselves into the upper room because they were fearful. Grace Church has locked itself into the past because we are fearful of losing the past. The disciples could not understand the death of Jesus and how they could go on with life. The Grace Church congregation does not understand the death of Grace Church as we know it or consider how to go on with life.

The disciples did not realize that life would never be the same. Grace Church does not realize that she will never be the same. Death changes everything. Death changes life. And so we sit as the disciples sat. Frightened. Bereft. Hopeless. Aimless. We are an apathetic bunch, waiting for things to get back to the way they were. Waiting. Hopeless. Aimless.

The disciples waiting in the upper room did not have the experience of the resurrection. We do. We have heard the story over and over and over again. Do we believe? Do we REALLY believe in resurrection? We are NOT the disciples sitting in the upper room. We have the benefit of knowing the story. We have the benefit of knowing that Jesus came to his bereft disciples and is already with us. If we believe we will look to resurrection and what that means to us right now.

It is not going to happen on it’s own, folks. We have to believe it. More that that, we have to LIVE it. Death changes life. We are being changed. NOTHING will ever be the same. We can accept that or we can deny it. Denial will be a slow and agonizing death. Accepting that this death we are experiencing will change how we gather, how we worship, how we view ourselves as disciples in the community is a call to act. What we DO!

Wake up, people! It is time to DO! It isn’t about what the church can do for us, it is about what we can do as church. We have to DO the doing. Wake up, people, everywhere. We don’t have to sit idle and frightened, locked in an upper room. We can gather together in hope and go out into the world living out the Good News. And we can encourage and support one another in our individual and collective endeavors.

Grace Church as we have known it is DEAD. It can be remembered. It can be celebrated as a good thing of the past. Now, let us all work together to resurrect ourselves as a church that will be a monumental credit to those who have gone before us and a church worthy of who we are as a people of today and build for tomorrow.

Death changes life. Let us choose the new life that we can be.

Jesus is here. Choose Jesus and the new life.

LESSONS LEARNED FROM AUNT MARY

Actually, the title might be Lessons BEING Learned from Aunt Mary.

We drove over to Springfield for my annual visit (Jacq gets there twice a year or more.). Aunt Manry was prepared. She had her latest paintings on display in the living room. Last year she won first prize for this painting -- Girl with Umbrella.

There were two more paintings that she has done since then. She has discovered a new medium -- watercolor that paints like her tried and true oil. This is a better medium for her now that she is reaching her 101st birthday. It isn't quite like oil. Very similar. She is still learning about it. She is wanting to do more experimenting with it but she has two commissions to be done before she can allow herself that extravagance of time.

One hundred and one and experimenting with a new medium. Now that's a lesson to learn -- we are NEVER too old for the new 'stuff' that is constantly appearing.

Mary said she was turning over a corner of her living room to her artwork done AFTER one hundred. She would take down the portrait she had done of my uncle and a couple of other wonderful paintings and put up this prize winner and two other paintings done this summer with the new medium. (Really sorry I didn't take pictures of them while we were there -- next time.)

Soon after our arrival Mary's granddaughter and husband arrived with pizza and salad for lunch. Mary had 'a bite' of salad but certainly enjoyed the pizza. We caught up on news. Laughed. And soon it was time to move to the kitchen for haircutting -- Mary is particular about convenience of maintenance and because her hair was getting in the way she had been at it with sewing scissors. I had the privilege of giving her a nice shingled haircut that would make for ease of maintenance, for a while anyway. She pulled some strands onto her forehead to create some wisps for what she feels is an expansive forehead. Lesson: always care about your appearance.

It was Saturday and the kitchen radio was broadcasting an opera. "I'm trying to learn to like opera," she informed me. Not "appreciate" but 'like." Another area of learning -- stretch from what is familiar and comfortable and challenge yourself. Amazing!

From the kitchen window we could see snow coming down in great whorls and so we decided that we must be on our way back to Indiana before we were caught. It was a bit of a sad parting. We were just past the getting comfortable stage and ready to share our important feelings and insights. Another year. Way too long.

Will there be another visit? God willing.