Obscurity

April 17, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally1 Comment

O is for Obscurity.

At Laity Lodge -- Jill is on the right. — At Laity Lodge — Jill is on the right. (I’m leaving the others in obscurity for now.)

Jill Phillips gave a devotion one morning at Laity Lodge and spoke about the book Forgotten Among the Lilies by Ron Rolheiser, a Catholic theologian.

Rolheiser talks about “The Martyrdom of Obscurity”, saying that ordinary life is enough.

The human heart is full of longings — but Rolheiser says that longing is our spiritual lot.

Today we are called as Christians to the martyrdom of obscurity. Christianity always invites its adherents to martyrdom. To be a follower of Christ demands that one lay down one’s life. But this takes various forms. … In our culture meaningful self-expression is everything; lack of it is death. Yet it is this death that paschally we must enter.

Whoa.

That stops me every time I read it.

Ordinary life is enough.

Yes, enough.

To live in a small town and attend a small church.

To grow green beans in my garden.

To color pictures with crayons with my children.

To watch a high school tennis match or an age-group swim meet.

To make macaroni and cheese for dinner — again.

To fold towels and clean toilets and wash dishes and sweep up the dog hair on the floor.

To be Niggle, in Leaf by Niggle, and have one leaf to show at the end of my life, because I helped my neighbor and put aside my longings for more.

All these things are enough.

To live in obscurity is not such a bad thing.

Indeed, it may be the best thing.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Niggle

April 17, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally6 Comments

N is for Niggle, the main character in Leaf by Niggle, a short story by J. R. R. Tolkien.

Recommended reading for the retreat at Laity Lodge, I read it on my way there. At LaGuardia.

I’ve always loved the word “niggle”. Niggles are those gentle proddings — not nagging, just nudging. They are the post-it notes hanging in the back of your mind to remind you of something you should do.

And such is the main character of the story. Niggle is an artist so caught up in his work that he doesn’t always want to do the things he should, like preparing for his journey, because he would rather finish the tree he is painting.

But he stops to help his neighbor, albeit a little begrudgingly, because

He was kindhearted, in a way. You know the sort of kind heart: it made him uncomfortable more often than it made him do anything; and even when he did anything, it did not prevent him from grumbling, losing his temper and swearing (mostly to himself).

Ralph Wood, in one of his talks on Tolkien at Laity Lodge, said this, “It is extremely difficult to be an artist and a parent.”

How well I know that! For years whenever I would sit down to write, or even think, and I would be interrupted to tend to someone else. Most of my children are grown now, so it happens rarely — and, truth be told, long ago I learned to embrace Henri Nouwen’s sentiment that my interruptions are my work.

Niggle, though, represents that tension — between creating and tending to the mundane, between painting and fixing the roof, between art and helping a neighbor in need.

The most important job I have ever been given was being a parent. If I had to choose between writing and parenting, parenting would win easily.

These days, it’s the writing part that niggles at me.

Funny how that works.

Magnificent

April 15, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally3 Comments

M is for multiple things.

Welcome to Monticello, now synonymous with broken buses

Like Monticello. That’s where the bus broke down. It’s so easy to mentally go back to those broken down places.

But M is also for Moving On. It may be easy to go back, but it’s also important to move on.

M is for Mirrors, because reflection is important.

M is for Meals, each one a sumptuous feast at Laity Lodge. More than the food, though, is the sharing of stories that happens over a meal — telling the tales of broken down buses or lives, and finding peace and acceptance even when the whole story is told.

Dining at Laity (photo by Kristen Peterson)

M is for the Moon. Its light is merely a reflection of the sun’s light. I don’t want to be corny about it, but my friends also reflect the Son’s light for me, and that’s very precious. Because sometimes the night is dark, and the only light we can see is a reflected one.

And M is for each Moment and the Miracle of living life — because each breath we take should no more amazing than that first breath from the womb.

Each blade of grass, each rock piled on rock, each bird at the feeder, each tear, each friend, each mountain, each sunset, each lift-off, each landing, each ( fill-in-the-blank ) — they are all miracles.

We lives a series of miracles most of which escape our notice.

Life is rich. Magnificent, in fact, when we choose to embrace it.

And Magnificent also begins with M.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Love in Action

April 14, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally8 Comments

Laity Lodge cacti. The cactus “protects itself against danger, but it harms no other plant…” (from “The Power of One” by Bryce Courtney

L is for Love in Action.

Well did Monty Python choose a rabbit — the Rabbit of Caerbannog — to protect.

The retreat at Laity Lodge was put on by the Rabbit Room, an online community modeled after Lewis and Tolkien’s Inkling community that met in an Oxford pub in a room called The Rabbit Room.

The denizens of this online community now refer to themselves as rabbits. Unlike many online communities, Rabbit Roomers have multiple opportunities for flesh-and-blood meetings via events like Hutchmoot, the Laity Lodge retreat, and concerts.

A group rabbits yesterday turned into Rabbits of Caerbannog when I shared with them that “Joan Jackson” has continued to comment on my blog, although now all her comments go to my spam folder.

Below is their response:

It has come to our attention that repeated attempts have been made to shame and silence Sally, the author of this blog.

It is sad that bitterness could turn into something so consuming. If this weren’t such a damnable waste of time and resources, it would almost be comic that two elderly people would spend their last golden decades on planet earth acting like silly teenage girls. How foolish the human heart grows while seeking revenge. If there weren’t so much to be pitied about this sort of behavior, it would be laughable.

However, because this problem has persisted, Sally’s friends have decided to take action. Below is our plan.

First, we have offered to manage the spam folder for this blog. From this point forward, Sally will appoint a friend to manage her spam. The new manager of this folder will scan the first few lines of every message and immediately delete anything slanderous. No matter what is written in those messages, we will assume every single word to be false. We will not be shocked, and we will not be shaken. Anyone cowardly and immature enough to send anonymous messages over the internet has immediately lost all credibility in our eyes.

Secondly, as a team, we are committing to doing one act of goodness and grace in the world for every negative message received. For each attempt these attackers make to shame our friend, we will make something beautiful or healing for someone in need. Every venomous or poisonous post will result in tenderness and generosity being carried out by a team of friends who knows the wonderful woman that this blogger really is.

Hatred will be turned to laughter. Shame will be turned to healing. Darkness will be turned to light. And all of this will be done in a manner that not only turns evil to good, but that multiplies goodness exponentially. We will do this because this is what God does with broken places; he turns them around and makes them beautiful.

We praise God for this opportunity to stand in the gap for our dear friend. We also hope that a strong and definite stance will help our friend’s abusers move on with life. We stand about her as a shield, accepting her as she was, loving her as she is, and excited about who she is becoming.

Sincerely,
Friends of the Blogger

Like the Rabbit of Caerbannog, they will stand as my protectors.

Unlike the Rabbit of Caerbannog, their actions will not be destructive, but healing.

I couldn’t ask for better friends.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Journey

April 13, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally1 Comment

J is for Journey.

The bigger story of our lives is constantly being retold is smaller stories every day.

For example, my journey to Laity Lodge was series of steps which I could break down thus:

Car ride to Binghamton
Bus trip to NYC
1. First bus to Monticello that broke down
2. Second bus that safely delivered us to Port Authority
Waiting at LaGuardia

Shuttle to LaGuardia
Waiting in LaGuardia
Flight to Charlotte
Hurry through Charlotte airport from one plane directly to the boarding line for the next
Flight to San Antonio
Shuttle to hotel
Night in hotel
Ride to car rental agency
Meeting up with friends
Drive to Laity Lodge
1. Stop for Texas barbecue
Time at Laity Lodge
1. Rest
2. Refreshment
3. Music
4. Laughter
5. Solitude
6. Fellowship
Drive back to San Antonio
Flight to O’Hare
Traversing the tunnels of O’Hare
Flight to Syracuse
Ride home

Each step has at least one story, complete with plot and interesting characters.

Sometimes I’m running. Sometimes I’m waiting.

Sometimes the bus breaks down or the flight is late.

Sometimes richness surrounds me and I am a partaker in a great feast.

Sometimes desert solitude surrounds me.

Sometimes my companion is a friend who laughs easily and shares their story.

Sometimes my companion is a stranger drinking screwdrivers to soothe the anxiety of flying.

Although I may look back on those four days as one trip, they really were a series of smaller stages, interactions, minutia. High points, low points, tension, and joy.

Peter Guber said it this way:

Every journey that is successful has culs-de-sac and speed bumps. I carry a wisdom gene through my life through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Life is a journey. I’m glad I like traveling.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Jonathan

April 11, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally1 Comment

J is for Jonathan, Jonathan Rogers, to be exact.

Jonathan Rogers is a writer, speaker, teacher, and Flannery O’Connor expert.

For whatever reason, I am prone to say the most awful things to him — insults and degradations.

Like this past fall, when I saw him in Nashville, and he was talking about Georgia, a state dear to him because he grew up there.

“Every time we drive through Georgia,” I told him, “my kids complain because it smells so bad.” (There must be a rendering plant or something near I-95.)

I realized how awful that was as soon as I said it. I looked around to see if the words had maybe come from someone else’s mouth, but, no, I was the only one standing there.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “Do you sit at home thinking of ways to insult me?” he finally asked.

No, Jonathan, those insults seem to come quite naturally to me.

I knew that Jonathan would be at Laity Lodge and felt the anxiety rising. I would not insult him this go-round. I gritted my teeth in firm resolve.

I’ve been the recipient of enough rude statements, mostly regarding my family size.

“Again??!??!” — on seeing me pregnant for the 6th, 7th, or 8th time.

“Don’t you know what causes that?” — generally followed by guffaws and elbows to the ribs.

“You have too many children.” — a statement to which I responded, “Which one should I get rid of?”

“You got your girl. You can stop now.” — after Helen was born, my first girl after three boys, as if having a girl had been a goal.

But, Jonathan — I don’t know why unkind words roll off my tongue in his presence. And I don’t like that about me.

“Really,” I told a friend, “I may just try to avoid him.”

When I saw that Jonathan wasn’t present at dinner or the first talk, I actually felt a little sad, because these were his people far more than my people. I’m an interloper, but they are all too gracious to expel me.

The next morning I got up early, my usual routine. When I went to get coffee, two other people were also getting morning beverages. I stopped partway through the doorway — it was Jonathan Rogers and his wife.

“Good morning, Sally,” he smiled. Did I mention the fact that he is nice and I am not? “I’d like you to meet my wife.”

We said our hellos.

I think I was polite.

As it turns out, his wife is delightful. One of my favorite conversations from the whole retreat was an honest vulnerable breakfast we shared.

I liked her so much that I braved a Facebook conversation with Jonathan to get her email address.

I may have insulted him by asking for it.

“This happens every time I take her anywhere,” he wrote. “I write for the Rabbit Room for what, 8 years? One weekend and she is more popular than me.”

Sorry, Jonathan.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Inklings

April 10, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally8 Comments

I is for the Inklings.

Ralph Wood, in his first talk at Laity Lodge, spoke about the Inklings, that group of men who met in an English pub to discuss life and literature, and whose best-known members were C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien.

I scribbled in my notes, “Friendship is the only love that when divided is not diminished,” and looked for the “real” quote later. I found it, in C. S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves,

“In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets… Hence true Friendship is the least jealous of loves. Two friends delight to be joined by a third, and three by a fourth, if only the newcomer is qualified to become a real friend. They can then say, as the blessed souls say in Dante, ‘Here comes one who will augment our loves.’ For in this love ‘to divide is not to take away.”

Several years ago, when my life journey had taken a steep uphill turn, I summoned a group of Friendlings. We didn’t meet in a pub, but rather, through the magic of the interwebs, through social media and email.

Dr. Wood told us that The Lord of the Rings would not have happened without the constant encouragement of C. S. Lewis. Sometimes I wonder how I would have fared without the constant encouragement of my Friendlings.

Like the Inklings, mine has been a group with some fluidity, but also with some mainstays. With them, I have not only shared the trials in my life, but also my joys and the mundane. They share the same with me.

Each of them brings a different perspective, but that only enriches me all the more.

They staunchly stand beside me when I am at my weakest.

They know me at my ugliest and still love me.

In turn, they have shared their sunshine and their dark times with me.

“I’m hurting today,” one might say, and I will stop what I am doing to pray and to reach out across hundred of miles to tell her that I love her.

Friendlings have been a safe place to share and to listen.

Dr. Wood said that we are all Inklings.

Some of us may not be literary types, with ink stains on our fingers, but I daresay we all have the capacity to love and be loved.

Everyone can wear some friend-stains on their heart.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

Hike

April 9, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally5 Comments

H is for Hike.

Henri Nouwen said, “Friendship has always belonged to the core of my spiritual journey.”

Friendship is the core of almost any journey — and it was true of my hike at Laity Lodge.

I know that I already mentioned the hike in my post, Bluff, but it really is a three chapter story for which I only told the middle chapter.

Chapter One — One mile hike up.

Chapter Two — Pretty view.

Chapter Three — One mile hike down.

While I loved the view, I think I loved the hiking part more. Because of the friendship aspect.

The hike up — Walking to the start of the trail

When we walk with someone, we learn something — about them and about ourselves.

On the way up, I walked with Dawn — Dawn-of-a-thousand-careers, also known as Dawn-of-the-mutual-friends.

Everyone has a story.

Everyone has a thousand stories.

As much as I love reading stories, I love hearing the stories. I love asking questions so I’m picturing it clearly in my mind. And hearing the rise and fall of the teller’s voice as they emphasize the words that are important in their telling of the story. I love seeing them smile when they tell the parts that make them smile, and bite their lip a little when they tell the parts that are hard.

I loved hearing Dawn’s stories on the way up. One of her stories involved running a marathon (or was it a half-marathon?) where she completed it by sheer will-power. She’s a strong woman.

What I learned about me while I was hiking with Dawn was that I don’t like to confess to my weaknesses.

I was running out of breath, going what felt like straight up. The gap between us and the next group of hikers grew larger and larger as we hiked slower and slower.

Darned if I would admit needing to rest though!

If Dawn could keep going, I could keep going.

Thankfully, she stopped.

“I need to catch my breath,” she said.

Benevolent me, I said, “No worries. I don’t mind waiting.”

What I meant to say was, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” gasp-gasp “Myheartispoundingoutofmychest.” gasp-gasp “I (gasp) need (gasp) a-rest, (gasp) too!”

On the hike down (which was much easier) I walked with a young woman named Kristen. Tall, beautiful, and with an enviable openness about her — she told me about her work, her church, her family. It hit me as we were talking that she is the same age as Philip, my oldest son.

I could be her mother, I whispered to myself, but the words flew away in the Texas wind.

I marveled at the fact that I had arrived at the enviable stage of life where I have friends, real friends, that span many generations, and I’m right smack dab in the middle of them.

It was a cosy feeling — not out of breath at all.

A hike with friendship at its core.

A to Z Blogging Challenge

The Good Guide

April 8, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally3 Comments

G is for Flannery O’Connor’s story that wasn’t called “The Good Guide.”

That’s not a typo.

She wrote a story called “The Artificial N——” — I can’t even bring myself to type the word — and her editor pleaded with her to change the title to “The Good Guide.” FO stood up for her title, saying it was the essence of the story.

At Laity Lodge, this story was the topic of Dr. Ralph Wood’s final talk for the retreat. It is a story of pride, betrayal, and grace.

As soon as Dr. Wood introduced the story, as soon as he said the word, as soon as he dropped that bomb, every heart turned toward the one man of color in our midst.

Every heart turned that way, I’m sure, though every eye politely stared straight ahead or focused on some speck on the floor.

He might as well have called a Jew to the front and offered to tattoo a number on his or her arm.

We are stung by certain words, by the sheer profanity of them, as we should be.

At the beginning of the retreat we were challenged to write two words on blocks of wood. One was to be the word that represents that thing that holds us back from our art. The other was to be a word that we would like to see eliminated from the English language.

I immediately knew my two words. I scrawled the first one onto a block, but couldn’t bring myself to write the second because, in my mind, it is such an awful word that it makes me want to throw up just to look at it.

I took a deep breath and finally scribbled it onto the block. Quickly, I laid the block face down on the sofa. I really didn’t want to see it.

Words can be such powerful things, can’t they?

Writing it down felt like I was empowering it, the last thing I ever wanted to do.

All those blocks were burned, though, in a vortex of fire on the last night.

The blocks were stacked on a potter’s wheel, doused with lighter fluid, and lit with the wheel spinning.

Vortex of Fire (photograph by Kristen Kopp)

I wish it were so easy to rid our country of hate.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Faith

Frio River

April 7, 2015March 20, 2017 Sally7 Comments

F is for Frio — as in the Frio River.

Every time I think about Laity Lodge and the Frio River, these words scroll across my mind – A river runs through it.

Because a river runs through the canyon and is such an integral part of the Laity experience.

We drive through the river to get to the lodge.

Driving in the Frio River. (photograph by Kristen Kopp)

We can sit on the balcony to look at the river and listen to river.

Our view from the bluff looked down on the river and we could see how it wound its way through.

A river runs through it.

Years ago, I happened to catch the movie, A River Runs Through It, when it was shown on television. It is rare when I sit down to watch a whole movie unplanned, but something about it drew me. Something about it lingers, still today, in my heart.

Perhaps it was the mention of grace.

Perhaps it was the art, the stunning beauty of Montana.

Perhaps it was the human drama of a family and brothers and self-destructive behaviors and grace again.

Rivers run through our lives. They draw us together. We can stand in their waters side-by-side. We can feel their coolness and refreshment. We are washed clean in them.

Yes, it’s all grace.

Shall we gather at the river?

*****

“Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them – we can love completely without complete understanding.”

A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean