bettering

I asked "am I better?"
The answer was "you're bettering".

That's a word to ponder. It turns out it is a real word.  I had thought it was a kind of made-up word that stood for "not better, but getting there".

I found a definition of bettering - "improve on our surpass; changing for the better; in less discomfort than before".

So I am, in fact, bettering.

It's easy over time to add layers to our lives-- good and not-so-good layers.  Sometimes the latter color, or hide, the former.  So I look at bettering as a sign that some of the negative layers are being peeled away so the more positive layers can see daylight, even see sunlight.

Adding layers is easier that removing. Not all underneath is made of goodness.  Unlayering uncovers both goodness and "not-goodness".

Hard stuff this uncovering.  And one has to be made of hard stuff to do the cleaning up and out. Am I?

Well, yes and no.  But I have help and that's what is making the difference for me to be bettering.

"God is in the helpers."  Anne Lamott

reunion

The dictionary defines reunion as an instance of two or more people coming together again after a period of separation; or a social gathering attended by members of a certain group of people who have not seen each other for some time. 

I have just returned from such a gathering. Family from near and far journeyed to the green mountains of Vermont.

Twenty-seven members of my family on my mother's side met for three days of family time.  Stories were told, memories were shared, and many questions were asked and most answered as recall allowed.

Resemblances of features and personalities stood out. Ages were from 6 to 83. There were activities onsite, down the road a few miles, within walking distance, and some a short drive away.

Much of the time we just sat, talked, laughed and shared. It was quiet and boisterous joy.

I joined what a friend called the 76 years old club during this reunion.  I definitely have my singular perspective of this time together, remembering the times and the family members who came before; and of the influence we may or may not see at each part of our life journey.  This physical coming together gives a new depth to my perspective and I am renewed and I rejoice in it.

home

Is it possible to "go home again"?
And what is the home to which we aspire to return?
Just what is HOME?

I traveled recently to my birthplace. With enormous interest in a project a museum curator in northwest Colorado is undertaking, my sister and I returned to Colorado for a few days.

We were both born in Colorado, but neither of us live there now. My sister yearns for Colorado, her home. I've been thinking about what I call home these days. It isn't Colorado.  I love that I was born and raised there, and my heart and soul are touched deeply when I return.  But I don't really yearn for it.

After I returned I spent some time thinking about where I call home.  Colorado is where I'm from. Texas is where I was for several decades.  And now Georgia is where I live, and where I call home.  It helps that the part of Georgia in which I live is in the Southern Appalachian Mountains and that it has always felt like being in the Colorado mountains.  The word "in" here means when one drives up into the Rockies and is not standing miles back viewing them. But I had not actually called this place my home until I returned from Colorado and spent some time thinking about home.

I did love being back in the Colorado mountains.  Their beauty puts a smile on my face, a lump in my throat, and a hum in my soul.

And I absolutely loved the joy my sister experienced.  There was a smile on her face, and little lilt in her step.

I think the issue here may be how to find home where you are. I see myself holding my home of origin as a place that formed me. Now that I live elsewhere, I am called to make this home. And so I pretty much do so, but still, at times there is longing in my heart for more.

Maya Angelou says: "I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."

In "Home" Rachael Sage sings: 

      Home is where you’re taken in

      Fearlessly breathing with the wind
      Home is where you set your spirit down
      I’m at home in all this beauty
      Everything about it moves me
      I may be from another place but home’s where I am now
      Where I am now.

breathe

I'm caught up in a song these days. I listen to it over and over. When driving. When in the dentist chair for hours. And just today, while flying. I love the melody and the singer's voice. But mostly I love the words.

"I want to wake up;
See where I'm going, yeah
Chase what I'm dreaming;
Run away till I out run all my pain
I swear I pray everyday
But still nothing's changing
Feels like my life might need rearranging
You say that You're here and right now is a test of faith

So open up my heart and have Your way
I'm sinking in my thoughts so pull me from the waves
My head's above the water. You're my sweet escape
I need you just so I can breathe
Now I can breathe, Hey I can breathe
I can breathe, I need you just so I can breathe

You said this feeling
Would only last for a season, yeah
But I'm still here and I'm wondering
Why I'm not the same
I prayed every day
That's when You changed me
I'm not the same cause You rearranged me
You said You were here--that was my test of faith"

So open up my heart and have Your way
I'm sinking in my thoughts so pull me from the waves
My head's above the water. You're my sweet escape
I need you just so I can breathe
Now I can breathe, Hey I can breathe
I can breathe, I need you just so I can breathe

La'Porsha Renae

I'm not certain just whom is being sung about. An individual, or God. I think I hear both. But I'm drawn more to it being a call to God. "Feels like my life might need rearranging"; then "I'm not the same because you rearranged me."

I know about feeling like rearranging is in order. I also know about going through rearrangement. Actually, I'm in the midst of it. I have all kinds of help. All listen to my words and my heart. And I am helped. Yet, there is another listener I'm learning to speak to. And then to listen in the presence. Then I can breathe.

AH... THE CONCERT

At last- the reason for the trip - FOUR VOICES concert.  Four voices being Joan Baez, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Indigo Girls.  Oh my- just seeing those names written together...

Disrupted by weather and air travel, given an anything-can-happen day-- here we were in Raleigh, NC, outdoors at the Art Museum of North Carolina for this night of the Four Voices Tour.

Thinking about all it took to get to this night and how eager I was for this moment of music by these amazing women singer-songwriters....  it feels like nothing could stop this experience from happening.  

And so nothing did stop it. The concert happened!

Lining up hours before the doors opened and the concert began, fans carried lawn chairs, coolers, blankets, and sometimes each other.

There was obvious intention and eagerness as we watched all these souls from our parked car.  

You see, we didn't need to race ahead to stand in line, because we had reserved seats.  I've left my years of concert lawn-seating behind.  However, we did realize at the last minute that we might want something to sit on in our reserved seats, so ever the resourceful women we are, we borrowed bath towels from the hotel. Worked like a charm.

As we entered the museum grounds and made our way to our seats, it was immediately clear that we had some amazing seats!  No more than 50' between us and the stage.  And the rows were elevated so there was no chance the person in the row in front of us could block our view.  Wow!

And so, the much anticipated and longed-for concert began.  And for the next two hours, these four women sang - together, separate, together again.  And some of the time we sang along.  

All the voices rose up as one, to celebrate the joy of making music together, and through song, to question injustice and inequality. We stood, sat, sang, clapped, rejoiced together as one glorious body.

It was the best concert ever!

An Anything-can-happen Day.

Today I had just this kind of day. 

No plans, because this day came about because of a disruption. Disruption of carefully planned travel.  Flight cancelled.  Terrible storms.  Concert cancelled. An alternate flight and a rescheduled concert brought about a day with no plans.

Thus I received the gift of an anything-can-happen day. Certainly I've had these in the past, but never where I recognized it as such. A real gift.

I was greeted by this new day with an awesome sunrise, followed by leisurely awakening and preparations to enjoy this new day. This new day with no plans.

First off, of course - cappuccinos and fresh pastries, enjoyed outside Joe Van Gogh, a local coffee roastery. They were more delicious than usual.  Maybe because there was time to sit outside and enjoy without a need to be anywhere.

Driving off we detoured to a yarn shop, where we discovered all manner of items made through the process of upcycling - using scraps and discarded materials, to make something new. A dragonfly made from window screen and beads. Earrings from old dental chair fabric.

After supporting the local economy, it was time to support a local restaurateur - Toast - where we enjoyed sandwich abundance, once again seated outside.

A walk around downtown Durham showed the possibility and result of restoring downtown cities back to life.  Of course, all that walking around necessitated refreshment- found at Monuts- another local eatery.

Then it was time to walk intentionally.  Seeking out local areal labyrinths, we began at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, where a quiet walk into the woods led to the labyrinth.

Then off to a decidedly less quiet space- the University of North Carolina Health Center, in particular the UNC Cancer Center.  Leaving the hustle and bustle of the conglomerate of streets and facilities, we stepped outside the cancer center to a peaceful and peace-filled labyrinth.  Walking and remembering all personally known, both lost and healed, was powerfully healing for me in my journey of restored health.

A movie - "A Quiet Passion", the story of Emily Dickinson amazingly portrayed by Cynthia Nixon, ended the unexpected gift of an anything-can-happen day. 

"The Lord Almighty grant us a peaceful night and a perfect end."

Now on Durham Time

It's different than Tybee Time. Yet, similar in the fact of stopping. This travel lark was to be too filled and too short for stopping. Yet, here I am stopped, sitting outside Joe Van Gogh Coffee Roasters in Durham, NC.

Travel to this place was long and somewhat arduous. For myself and my friend. Yet, still accomplished. Just in time for the concert, which was the purpose of the journey. 

Then we learned the concert was cancelled due to dangerous weather. 

Then all things necessary to attend the now-rescheduled concert, fell into place. Just like that. 

So we are gifted with a glorious day of doing nothing, yet doing whatever we want to do. 

Beginning with a glorious sunrise. 

And now cuppas. 

Stay tuned for the rest of the day. 

Unpacking

I've been unpacking for several months. Unpacking to help answer the "why" in some of my fears. Thirty-three years ago I unpacked my fear of flying.  That unpacking was filled with revelation.

I've seen the success of that unpacking in the fact that tomorrow will be my 332nd air travel trip. Such an accomplishment!  I've packed for travel near and far because I unpacked.

Currently I'm unpacking weather. Those red triangle warnings stir up more than wind or rain. Or snow or hail.  Or flood.

Flooded. High water.  High fears. High losses. High struggles.

Tomorrow I begin "the journey back home" travel.

A year and two weeks ago I fled.  We fled.  Flooded, and having taken refuge on the 2nd floor, we waited for rescue.  And it came.  It came in the form of a double-kayak.  Room for two to flee.  Not alone, mind you, rather both led by and followed by kayaks.  One pulling, one bringing up the rear.

And now, 56 weeks later, the finishing touches are being carried out on the restoration of home.  Redesigned, rebuilt, repainted, redecorated, reclaimed.

From the last night there, to the first night there.  Fitting.

Literal unpacking awaits my visit. I'm certain my soul-unpacking will happen as well.

Traveling mercies.

Blue Iris

With a move to the cooler climate some fourteen years ago, I began to add plants to the property from my childhood.  Plants I knew would grow where I now lived.  Lilac, Mock Orange, Iris.  The iris were planted along the driveway, and every Spring the iris would appear.

About 4 years ago, only the green leaves would appear.  No buds, no blooms.  Then this year one plant decided to bloom.  A beautiful white and purple bloom.  The sight of the single iris with the woods in the background, literally stopped me in my tracks. I was driving out of the driveway, saw the iris, and pulled up next to it and took this photograph.

Stunning.

Mary Oliver penned the poem, It Doesn't Have to Be a Blue Iris.

     Praying

     "It doesn't have to be
     the blue iris, it could be
     weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
     small stones; just
     pay attention, then patch
     a few words together and don't try
     to make them elaborate, this isn't
     a contest but the doorway
     into thanks, and a silence in which
     another voice may speak."

I'm learning to pray.  Of course I've been praying for a good while, but not in the way I am praying these days. I feel like I'm in conversation with God.  Right now it's not as shared a conversation as that I crave.  That's probably because I'm better at speaking to God than listening to God.  Nonetheless, the praying conversation is off and on during each day, and at night I drift off in mid-conversation. 

As Mary Oliver reminds us, prayer does not have to be elaborate, dramatic, scene-stealing-- just pay attention to what is around us, patch a few words together into thanks; with silence for listening.

A Year After

One year ago this night, at this moment, I was upstairs with Beth in her home.  We had fled the flood waters that had entered her home just minutes earlier.  While her neighbors had flooded previously, never before had she.  We watched throughout the day as the waters slowly rose and moved up the front walk and then finally into the house.

Almost last minute we set about putting as much up on shelves and counters as we had time to do.  Lots of things were carted upstairs.  Still, most of the downstairs was left to be submerged.

Oddly, the power did not go out- so we could gaze down from the balcony hallway and watch the water rise.  I recall a power cord swaying in the water, and one pillow floating. The one pillow I missed in my haste to move things up high.

Then we went to bed.  I'm surprised, now that I recall that night, that we were able to sleep.  But sleep we did.  For just a few hours.  Awakened by a phone call from a neighbor across the street, we listened as he cautioned us not to go downstairs and touch the water - because since the electricity was still turned on, we could be electrocuted.

It was at that moment we knew fear- and we knew we were in danger.

I thought I was going to die that night.

A phone call to 911 brought no help.  They were too busy to come.  A call to the power company also brought no help.

Instead, a call to the Sr. Warden, brought about our rescue.  Finding teenagers out in their kayaks waiting to rescue someone, he used one of the kayaks to lead one of the teenagers, along with a trolling empty kayak to the home. Muscling up incredible courage, he stepped into the flooded garage, and with his cellphone turned into a flashlight, he made his way to rear and pulled the circuit breaker to off. We were plunged into darkness.

He then came inside, call to us to come down the stairs.  Wielding a flashlight, we slowly felt our way down the stairs, into the water, and out the back door.  There we found a kayak-for-two awaiting us on the patio. Finding a floating lawn chair, we used it to climb in. Once secured in, the young man - his name was William - began to tow us to safety.

And with that floating motion, we both experienced unexpected peace.  The kayak moved through the water with the quiet sound of the paddles.  The water glistened. And we felt a calm wash over us. We experienced GRACE.

We were safe.

But not sound.

This past year has been such a challenge for Beth, and must less so for me.  The rebuilding has taken over a year.  In a few hours, the anniversary of being rescued will pass, but the anniversary of all the days that followed will last another 365 days.

Just as the water slowly crept up the front walk, so too, has the restoration crept to completion.  And so too, has the restoration of our hearts and minds and souls found healing and renewal.

Tybee Reflection

The afternoon hours on the last Tybee day were spent packing up, a late lunch of BBQ at a favorite out-of-the way place in Savannah. Then the airport. Drop-off as we each headed home.

I faced five hours of driving, 3 1/2 of which would be in daylight. I was grateful for Daylight Saving Time. The first hour was interstate, the rest of travel was on mostly

 2-lane roads traversing through rural Georgia.

The extraordinary colors in the sky as the daylight turned to dark simply took my breath away!

I had lots of time to recall all the goings on of the past few days, and to reflect on Tybee Time 2017.

     gentle joy

          healing

               being away

                    time to be with God, with a best friend, and with myself.

Now settled in back home, I give great thanks that once again I received the gift of Tybee Time.

Tybee Heat

All things came together for sunrise viewing today. Warmer tempature, awakened early, and resolve.

After a 10-15 minute walk, determined by number of bird sightings along the way, the glow of pre-sunrise came into view.

As we walked the boardwalk across the dunes, something else came into sight. A CAR. We were pretty certain cars were not allowed on Tybee Beach, but we checked the sign which posted all "unallowabkes". NO unauthorized vehicles. Could this SUV be authorized?

We thought not. So a call was made to the Tybee Beach police. The woman seemed astounded to hear the car was actually on the beach. Giving her the location, we set off to walk along the surf to await the moment of sunrise.

Such beautiful images!

Contrails crisscrossing the sky.

Gulls and pelicans skimming along the water.

And the moment of the first peek of the sun.

Then a bursting of color as this new day began.

And then the police arrived.

We watched from afar as three young men were roused from inside the car and handcuffed. Suffice it to say, we moved on as we saw one being led off by the cops, and the other two permitted to drive off.

The first hour of our last day on Tybee Time started off with adventure and beauty. Can't wait to see what the rest of the day brings.  I know at the end of the day there will be parting, but the promise of return for Lent 2018 has been made.