Layered Memories

Old Main, on University of Arkansas campus; image at www.flickriver.com

A few days ago I was in Fayetteville, AR

visiting my son who started his freshman year there this August. 

It was of course glorious and wonderful to be with him, 

laughing, joking, stealing glances at him to make sure he looks happy and healthy. 

And being in Fayetteville is so bittersweet. 

So many memories of that town. 

Adrian was born at the local hospital. 

I found Unitarian Universalism at the local UU Fellowship. 

My call to ministry awakened there. 

My love of urban planning and local politics caught fire

in conversations with friends at Arsaga's, 

and later in meetings at City Hall. 

We moved to LA in 1999, and for a few years I'd visit friends there. 

And then I didn't visit for almost ten years. 

When I finally went back, 

seeing those same streets and buildings made my heart hurt. 

It was like seeing an old lover, 

remembering his face, 

but knowing he wasn't the same person anymore. 

Fayetteville is more beautiful than when I left. 

Walking down Dickson Street, 

around the historic square during the Farmer's Market, 

or through campus, 

I'm flooded with memories. 

It makes me think of Pentimento, by Lillian Hellman. 

She describes pentimento as

the old paint on a canvas 

that becomes transparent 

as it ages, 

allowing the original lines to come through. 

The painter "repented," changed her mind. 

It's a way of seeing and then seeing again

what is there. 

That's what my trips to Fayetteville feel like. 

I see what is clearly in front of me, 

but ghosts of my past also walk 

on the sidewalks. 

I see yard signs of city council campaigns past. 

I see white party tents and chairs set up for a garden party

for Friends of Fayetteville. 

I see old friends, 

no longer there, no longer in contact, 

but still dear to my heart. 

I see a Baby Adrian. 

I see a younger self. 

Full of hope, 

risk, 

need, 

fear.  

Longing to make something of herself, 

so her tiny son will know 

that one person can help change the world. 

As I wander around that lovely town, 

I know that Adrian will also awaken 

to the deeper longings of his life there. 

Maybe he will brush by 

the faint lines of his earlier life, 

gently waving him on

toward Love and meaning. 

Feeding a Spiritual Hunger

Today I have a guest blog post over on 

the UUA Vital Leaders Blog. 

I was delighted to be asked, 

and happy I got myself organized

to actually write it and send it in. 

The lovely photograph of the chalice, seen in the blog post, 

was taken by my colleague Rev. Stefanie Etzbach-Dale, 

serving the UUs of Santa Clarita Valley. 

It was set up at our recent ministers' retreat, 

and the photo ended up being the 

first artwork hung on my church office walls. 

I'll post it here, too. 

photograph by Rev. Stefanie Etzbach-Dale

Room for One More Yes

image from sandradodd.com

Last weekend, I thought to myself, 

"I have room for one more big YES this year." 

And I handed it out yesterday, gladly, 

to CLUE-LA. 

Deciding I had capacity for just one more YES

isn't about shutting down possibilities

or being closed off to new ideas. 

It's all about creating ample space 

for cultivating and growing

all the projects and ideas 

I've already said YES

to this year. 

It's also about setting aside time

and honoring the people I love, 

who make it possible for me to 

enjoy a healthy balance 

of ministry and personal life 

(OK - maybe healthy is too optimistic, 

but that is always the goal). 

And it came out of an awareness 

that in addition to professional ministry, 

there are quite a few other personal goals 

I'd like to accomplish at some point in life: 

- Continue Spanish lessons (Quiero hablar español!)

- Take piano lessons

- Learn to play guitar

- Take voice lessons

- More extensive travel

- Enter the LA County Extension Master Gardeners program

- Write a historical fiction novel, 

inspired by love letters written 

to my Grandma Lula from my Grandpa Dub, 

when they were teens. 

My mom and I found 

these letters hidden in a cigar box, 

tucked in the back of a closet, 

after my Grandma Lula died. 

It feels really good to be clear, 

for the time being, 

about my ministry priorities this year

and focusing on those, 

rather than adding more and more 

to an already full plate. 

Of course, this will be tested

when the next phone call

or email comes in for a 

meaningful, fun project. 

Will I be able to say No 

as joyfully as I say YES? 

Inviting People to Church

Image from tipsforphotographers.com

Last night, in the process of inviting

friends and acquaintances to a new

singing/chanting meditation group at my church, 

I got a little surprise.  

It is much easier for me to invite 

those folks to a meditation group - at church - 

than to a Sunday morning worship service. 

Sunday morning altar, graced with the bounty from our church garden.
 Photo by January Nordman. 

Each week, I create a Facebook invite for Sunday worship. 

I click on the "invite friends" button. 

And as I look at my list of friends, 

my hand hovers over each box next to their names. 

"Should I invite them?"

"Will they think I'm being too forward?"

"Do they have a bad association with church, 

will this turn them off, and will they want to unfriend me?"

These are some of the questions 

running through my mind as I decide whether

their box gets a check mark (invite!)

or remains blank. 

As I was doing the Facebook inviting

for the singing/meditation group, 

none of those questions were in my mind. 

Instead, there was a spirit of giving and offering

something worthwhile, of sustenance, 

that people will want and need. 

I imagined the greeting being 

received with curiosity, thankfulness, excitement. 

Do I not feel that way about Sunday morning worship? 

Hmmm ... 

The thing is, I'm really proud 

of the worshiping community at my church. 

We have a talented music director, 

a group of attentive, thoughtful people in the pews,

a spirit-filled liturgy,

 and an all around joyful attitude on Sunday morning. 

Worship is followed by a vegetarian potluck, 

and people can tour our organic, sustainable garden. 

(And take home produce for later!)

Somehow, the singing meditation group 

(First Sundays at 7 pm)

feels like a less threatening "ask" than

Worship at 11 am on Sunday morning. 

And I noted - if I, the minister, struggle with 

inviting people to worship, 

then imagine how many laypeople must feel. 

For my church, friends inviting friends to church

will be key to our revitalization efforts. 

I'm thinking about how to make the 

invitational process do-able for 

current members and friends. 

And reminding myself that 

Sunday worship - 

with our stories and songs, 

prayers and meditation, 

preaching and words of wisdom - 

is a gift we offer the community. 

A time to rest weary souls and bones. 

A time to get reconnected to 

the self, the community, the holy. 

A time for joy and tears, 

for laughter and silence. 

Who all will I invite to church this Sunday? 

Who will you?