Superstition

For almost thirty years I have been working on Sunday mornings as an organist and choir director.  I've made the rounds thru the denominations-Methodist, United Church of Christ, Episcopal- and although one should not think of this work as a performance, any wrong notes, missed entrances or hymnals falling across the keys are heard.  It's understandable, don't you think, that I might be just a bit nervous or anxious each week?

I can't quite remember how it started, but shortly after I began working in the church I had coffee each Sunday morning in the above mug.  This habit quickly turned into a superstition, as in I can't play if I don't use this mug!  At times I've even grabbed it out of an unsuspecting guest's hand, having to sheepishly explain.

Soon after Bill and I married in 1983 we took a trip to England which included a tour and Evensong at Canterbury Cathedral.  That's where I bought this beautiful mug with a Celtic design and somehow it just seemed to be the right one for Sunday mornings.  Several months ago it chipped badly and that was the beginning of the end. Eventually it slipped from my hand into the sink and shattered.

Knowing we were going to Ireland in a few months I searched thru the cabinet for a temporary substitute. For awhile I used a pretty deep purple mug-a good liturgical color, right?

I had fun looking in the Irish shops for just the right new Sunday mug...but I couldn't find it.  Everything looked like touristy gift shop, if you know what I mean.  I was sure I'd know it when I saw it and had resigned myself to looking at some Irish sites online when we returned.

The day we left Ireland we arrived at Shannon airport with loads of time on our hands and guess what- a gift shop with beautiful, quality woolens, sterling silver jewelry and Belleek china.  I spied the mug immediately- a lovely creamy bone china with a Trinity knot.  It fit perfectly in my hand and I had not a moment's doubt.

Sacred Ground

There are a number of places on this earth for which I feel a deep kinship-Maine immediately comes to mind as do the Maritime Provinces of Canada. When I think about where I'm from-the dusty plains of the Texas panhandle-I realize that the places I feel most at home are far removed from my roots.

I have had the good fortune to visit Ireland 3 times and am increasingly drawn to it's gorgeous landscapes and sense of Spirit abiding throughout.  I know I am not alone in this as the island has been attracting pilgrims since before Christ and I am just the latest in that lineage.

After my trip to Inis Mor last October I came home insisting that Bill take a trip with me to the west coast of the Emerald Isle. He had never been before and I knew he would fall in love with the pastoral landscapes.  Even though he'd previously said that he was done with international travel I managed to twist his arm and designed a trip to allow him time for rest and relaxation.

Our first stop was lively Galway. We arrived on an unusually sunny, warm day and even broke a sweat as we trekked over to our home for 2 nights, Adare Guesthouse.  Bill immediately hit it off with the owner, Padraic, finding gardening as a common interest. For two days we explored this small city on foot, enjoying fish and chips, street musicians, the city museum and the Irish version of joie de vivre.

Then it was time to pick up our rental car...gulp.  Because of Bill's age I had to do all the driving, and, yes, that would be on the left-hand side of the road, with the steering wheel on the right, and stick-shift on the left.  That's right, the car had a standard transmission and thank goodness I can drive one-with my right hand!  Well, it wasn't too bad-I'm sure I was the object of many curses and I did run over a few curbs, but that's all.  You might notice how tiny this car is-even the tires were not full-size.  I was grateful for how small it was on the narrow roads, especially when passing a tour bus.

We had only a general schedule for each day and allowed time to ramble through the countryside.  We stopped at many ruins and enjoyed a some delicious coffee breaks.

For the most part we stayed away from the guidebooks' suggestions, preferring instead to choose our own path.  But we did attend a wonderful medieval dinner at Dunguaire Castle, above, thanks to Rick Steves.  We climbed a narrow staircase to the large dining room and sat at long tables, family-style.  Mead and wine were freely poured!  After dinner we were entertained by the likes of James Joyce and William Butler Yeats, both writers who had a deep connection to Ireland's west coast.

We did have a general desire for the trip, which was to enjoy the landscape and experience the abundant antiquities.  Ruins from the 7th century were not an unusual sight as we drove along the back roads and often a herd of cattle was grazing in the same field.  Above you see Kilmacdough Abbey with it's notable round tower of over 98 feet tall.

You know the abundant hanging fuschia baskets found in garden shops in the spring? I've had one maybe once or twice and never successfully.  This plant grows wild throughout Ireland- as hedges along the roadside or fields.  Gorgeous! I could easily do an entire post of the flowers and blooming shrubs we saw.

We ended our trip in the town of Killaloe at the foot of Lough Derg, where we spent three nights at this charming B and B, Kincora House.  This was where I had my greatest challenge with the car, trying to parallel park on a narrow street and steep hill.  Our hostess Deborah finally just came out and did it for me!  Deborah was the epitome of Irish hospitality, arranging a private tour of the nearby St.  Flannan's Cathedral.

After stumbling around numerous ruins all week it was an enormous treat to walk into a 12th century cathedral still in use.  Our tour guide let me play the organ (brought tears to my eyes) before marching us up the 130 steps to the bell tower where I played a phrase of My Shepherd Will Supply My Need on the carillon.  From the top of the tower we had a bird's-eye view of the entire area.

Later that day Deborah took us on a drive high up in the hills to see peat being harvested.  Bill very much wanted to see that as well as smell it being burned-so guess what Deborah did for him that evening?

I think this last photo is a good way to sum it all up...

New Life

I suspect that many of us are feeling an undercurrent of fear and foreboding these days.  No matter your political persuasion, there is a lot to worry about.  For me it's a constant battle to be positive and hopeful.  My non-negotiable morning meditations have been a lifesaver in that regard.

And Bill and I are so fortunate to have both new and young life in our family.  I'd forgotten just how small and helpless a baby is as well as how insistent they can be when something is needed!

I love this photo of my son-in-law: his face is full of joy, contentment and pride.  Often I am deeply moved by the love he and Emily show each other and their 2 young sons.

Eight days after Ari's birth a bris was held.  This ancient ritual linked Ari to his ancestors from centuries past.  Beautiful prayers were said, including my favorite which asked that the world be a better place because of Ari. Isn't that something we should all wish for ourselves?  Many treasured keepsakes were part of the bris, including crystal candlesticks that belonged to my grandmother.

Here's Zev watching the mohel as she prepares to perform the circumcision.  He seemed a little uneasy that afternoon, but a trip to get an ice cream with Nana seemed to help.

When the weight of war, ugly words, poverty, pollution and politics weigh me down I think of my responsibility to future generations.  And I do what I can, as I soak up every bit of love and hope from these two little boys.

A Thin Place

You may have heard the term thin places- it's a Celtic idea which suggests that we can experience both heaven and earth at the same time.  Usually it's a reference to a specific, inspiring location, such as the island of Iona in Scotland or Croagh Patrick in western Ireland. In these places the barrier between earth and heaven seems to collapse.

I feel that I'm in a different sort of thin place this week, waiting for the birth of our new grandson on Friday. Time is moving slowly and I am ever so aware that our lives are about to be changed as new life enters the world.  Both earth and heaven, yes.

Mother Nature is either confused or has quite the sense of humor- she has sent us several inches of snow today and I have the uncommon luxury of a free day.  Our blooming croci and just-about-to-open daffodils are buried and the forsythia looks as if it is trying to retract its blooms. The town is quiet and peaceful-I love it.  But of course Bill put the shovels away too quickly...

Leave it to my favorite Jane Kenyon to have just the right poem for this sort of day:


A thoughtful snow comes falling...
seems to hang in the air before
concluding that it must fall
here.  Huge aggregate flakes

alight on the muddy ruts
of March, and the standing
water that thaws by day
and freezes by night.

Venus is content to shine unseen
this evening, having risen serene
above springs, and false springs.
But I, restless after supper, pace

the long porch while the snow falls,
dodging the clothesline I won't
use until peonies send up red,
plump, irrepressible spears.

The Wedding China

Thanksgiving, dinner at daughter's
keeper now of the wedding china
received from far and near 40 years ago.
Such anticipation, such promise
service for 12, sterling and crystal as well
That dream, gone in a blaze of hurt and despair
New life, resurrected
My own, and generations to come.

A Look Back

As I think back on 2017 I am almost overwhelmed with the meaning of friendship and family.  Looking thru our holiday cards yesterday I was struck by the many relationships we have, ranging from childhood friends to new Maryland friends to many in-between. I am grateful for them all.

In a year when I often felt utter dismay at the state of our country and world, love sustained me. The love I received and witnessed from family, friends, strangers, pets, nature, the Spirit. And music.  I hope that I am able to pass that on, to show that life indeed is worth living.

It was a year of great travel adventures, meaningful music-making and taking the first steps to become a spiritual director. The year brought sobering news about Bill's health and the realization of what aging entails.

Throughout the ups and downs I have been blessed to be a part of new life, in dear little Zev.  To see our world anew, with no preconceptions, is a gift and a lesson.

My wish for the new year is that we be kind to each other.  Even when it means reaching across the aisle, the divide-let's treat each other as human beings, with love and kindness.

Blessings on your new year.