Wednesday Prayers: The Origin of Words

Because I can be a slow learner, I was in my early 30s when I finally realized that if someone is saying unkind things about others to me, they are almost definitely saying unkind things about me to others.  (Note:  I am 31 now.  Yes, the obvious is a recent revelation for me.)


I also realized that when I say harsh things about people, it's usually because I don't have the ovaries to express my needs and wants directly.  And that's my problem, not someone else's.  Hurtful words aren't the responsibility of the person they land on, they belong to their place of origin.  If I'm being a snot, it's because my heart is not aligned with God's.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the commandment to love my neighbor as myself.  Specifically, I've been thinking that THERE IS NO COMMANDMENT TO BE LOVABLE.   If I'm not loving you, that's my problem, not yours.  Actually, that's my sin, not your deficiency.

Now, you know I don't think that means I have to be everyone's friend.  It might not even mean I have to be in relationship with them.  But I have to respect that they are deeply valuable, that God is present in them, and that within them is infinitely more than I can know or imagine.

For the times when I find it hard to love, 

For the days when I get tired of listening, 

Lord, have mercy.

For my short temper and my self-centeredness, 

Christ, have mercy.

For my lost authenticity and courage, 

Lord, have mercy.

And God?  Please help others to love me, too.

I Love My Pepys.

“In appearance, at least, he being on all occasions glad to be at friendship with me, though we hate one another, and know it on both sides.” -Samuel Pepys

I heart Samuel Pepys (and, as he had trouble turning away from women, I think he might have liked me, too).  I laughed when I read this-- almost 400 years later, humanity is still ridiculous.  I can certainly think of times where there were civil, even friendly, interactions between people who detested each other.  While we are indeed called to love our neighbor, there's some consolation in hypocrisy being a longstanding tradition.  


And Lord knows, Pepys makes me laugh.  Can't we study him instead of Augustine?

Wednesday Prayers: Classmates

I am hugely, enormously relationship-based. I love solitude, but even my time alone is often spent in relationship-- with God, or with beloved writers. So it's no surprise that, as I look forward to the beginning of my first semester of seminary, I'm thinking about relationships.

I'm praying, starting now, but hopefully up to and beyond graduation, that my classmates and I learn to love each other. If loving God and loving others is the foundation of our ministries (of our lives!), then look! We have each other to practice on. There will be scores of us, and of course we won't all become close. But we CAN all love each other.

I pray we learn to deal graciously and generously with one another, that we learn to hear what people are saying (rather than holding it up to what WE would say). I pray that we act both kindly and honestly. I pray that we trust each other, and that we earn that trust. I pray that we celebrate our truest selves, rather than dismissing our colleagues with superficial assumptions. The God who is Love will be with us always, among us and within us. May we truly serve that God.

Can I pray over your efforts to love and be loved? Let me know.

Nowhere

So, I'm working on my application, and I'm praying, and I'm thinking, and one of my biggest concerns about getting into the program is the likelihood of having a crazy schedule.

I thought to myself, "Is this discernment? Is this God saying it's a bad idea?"

Predictably, I just shoved that thought down for a couple of days.

Then I remembered what happens when I ignore my gut/the Holy Spirit, and sat down and prayed.

The damnedest thing happened. I realized I'm not worried about the tight schedule. Nope. I'm worried that if I have a tight schedule, I'll lose my loved ones. I'm worried that if I'm less available/accessible, I won't be worth the bother of loving.

What a bunch of horseshit.

Bring on the chaos. There's nowhere Love can't go.

My Mother's Daughter

On my way to the optometrist this morning, I saw a bumper sticker so funny that I literally did laugh out loud-- and loudly. It startled me (and made my day), because it sounded exactly like my mom's laugh. That wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knows us both (though the cackling-in-stereo is unnerving to the uninitiated). She has a fabulous sense of humor, and an incredible ability to find humor hidden in unexpected places. I remember one summer car ride with my mom and my husband-- she and I had invented a game that had us roaring, and poor Dave had no idea what was going on.

I think people believe that estrangement means absence of affection, respect, wonder, admiration, love. In my experience, that's not true at all; I still feel those things for my mom. It's more like taking shelter in a storm, while longing and praying for clear skies.

Open and Affirming

After a a recent local gathering, I mentioned to a friend how frustrated I am with not fitting in here. She asked, "Do you think anyone feels like they fit in?" I've been thinking about that question ever since she asked it, because I've had the sense that we were talking past each other. She was kindly and wisely pointing out that everyone feels different, but that's not what I meant.

When I think of fitting in, I'm not talking about blending in. I cannot imagine a group entirely made up of people like me (merciful heavens). To me, fitting in means that there's space for my unique shape. The puzzle pieces aren't identical, but nobody has to grab the scissors to force everything into place. It's not about homogeneity, it's about acceptance-- and I've had that. I still have that, in a surprising number of places. But I don't have much of it locally, and it's damn lonely. I appreciate the people who really know me so much more now.

Are there places where you fit it, where you're loved (and known) as you are? Is church one of them, or is that a place where people don't really see and hear each other? We talk about Open and Affirming churches as ones that are LGBT friendly, and that's really important to me-- but I wonder, can we take it beyond that? Can we celebrate the craftsmanship displayed in each person's particular self?

I want everyone to be welcome. When I think of call and ministry (which I do, all the bloody time, because I can't get the topic to shut up in my head), over and over I think of hospitality, which I understand to mean welcoming each unique God-beloved soul. And I think that's how people fit it.

Friends Like Whitman

Walt Whitman has been my favorite poet for about a thousand years. I love his expansiveness, his generosity, his gravity, his joy, his oomph!

One of my favorite bits from Leaves of Grass is where, accused of contradicting himself, he explains that "I am large, and contain multitudes."

There aren't a lot of people who are willing to see and know our contradicting parts, much less love us with them, but this week was a riot of knowing friends, and it was glorious. People who see me as saucy and spiritual, compassionate and capable, funny and bright, kind and bitchy.

It's such a gift to be seen. It's a holy thing to be seen, to be recognized. (Perhaps we can even say that there is an element of evil in willfully not seeing people. How can we love our neighbor if we won't really look at our neighbor?) Some remarkable people go beyond, seeing us in the fullness of who we can grow into.

I'm wagging this morning, thinking of M and J and S and L, all of whom (magically, it seems) know and love me.

May you experience the same drenching in blessing.

Wednesday Prayers: to St. Ina

Dave and I are dog-sitting a sweet pup for a friend this week. I'm not particularly close to this friend, but I like her a lot, and I know that her dog has been quite a blessing to her. She's a darling, lovable animal-- the only reason I'm not posting pics is my belief that you don't publicly share photos of other people's kids. Still, there's been some chaos in welcoming a dog into our cat household, and some stress in working out a system that's good for everyone.

Which brings me to Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa.

I love Ina Garten. Dave likes her, too (mostly the way that EVERYTHING she makes includes at least a stick of butter), but he doesn't like the non-cooking scenes. I love them. Sure, they're contrived, painfully staged, and a little silly. But I love the example she sets: she leaves dinner for friends who return from a long trip, or she makes a pot roast for someone who has last-minute houseguests. These things aren't convenient-- they require (in church lingo) her time, treasure, and talent. They're an offering. In non-church lingo, these things take up her valuable, limited time and energy. She's modeling being a good neighbor. I don't care if it's cheesy, I like any reminder I stumble across for how to care for others. I like the example, the encouragement, the exhortation.

I miss a million opportunities to love people, and at least half the time that I take the opportunity, I flub it somewhere. But love is what we're called to, right? To love our God, and our neighbor as ourselves. So this week, we're trying to walk in St. Ina's shoes, loving our neighbor in practical, tangible ways.

Creator of all, make the roof of my house wide enough for all opinions, oil the door of my house so it opens easily to friend and stranger ,and set such a table in my house that my whole family may speak kindly and freely around it.

-Source Unknown (Hawaii), edited

How are you giving or receiving love this week? Let me know if I can pray with you about it.

Wednesday/Thanksgiving Prayers: It's a blessing. And a curse.

For a while, Dave and I watched Monk a lot. It was light and fluffy, but the characters were charming. I mention this because the lead character often said (about all manner of things, but especially about his OCD), "It's a blessing. And a curse."

This seems particularly relevant to me as I begin to pray Thanksgiving prayers. It's an awkward time of year to have a difficult family situation. I sometimes feel embarrassed, a little ashamed, when people talk about their holiday plans, and then ask what we'll be doing. I love our quiet observances, just the two of us. I love them because they're a safe haven, and our extended families aren't consistently safe or nurturing. I wish very much that they were, and it's not just the holidays that are sad. (The myth seems to be that you either love or hate your family. The truth for me is that I adore my family, which makes it a hell of a lot harder to keep a safe distance.)

The curse.

But here's the other side of it: this week, a woman I know asked for prayer-- and she knew it was okay to come to me, because I had talked to her about my own family. She knew I would have compassion (not to mention bountiful prayers to lift on her behalf).

The blessing.

If my struggles mean that I can love someone better, that I can listen to someone with my whole heart, then the blessing is bigger than the curse.

There are many things I'm grateful for (a safe home, a kind husband, good food, good friends), but that blessing is my best prayer of thanksgiving this year.

What's yours?

Wednesday Prayers: Wearing Purple

I'm wearing a purple cami under my cardigan today, and my blog is wearing a lovely lavender, both for Spirit Day, a day to support LGBT youth.

I try to be honest here on The Kitchen Door (and when I can't, I just plain don't post about the topic), so as crappy as it is, I'm going to go ahead and tell you what a moron I was at 18.

I knew a young man in college who was friends with some of my friends. He and I weren't close, but we were often in the same place at the same time. There were rumors about his being gay, but I thought the respectful thing to do would be to just come out and ask him.

In front of a handful of other people.

I had no idea I was "outing" someone, never even thought about it. While my military background had exposed me to a lot of different cultures, I didn't know anyone who was openly gay. I didn't care either way (my philosophy was that it didn't affect me-- if you're not sleeping with me, I don't care who you sleep with), but I didn't stop to think how much he might care. (In the privacy-invading style of a tiny campus, it never occurred to me that if it didn't affect me, I also didn't need to know.)

The people we were with were all his friends, and he very tactfully dodged the question, but it's something I deeply regret now.

So, today I'm praying for teens in hostile situations, teens in awkward situations, and (like me) teens who need some education.

And I'm so sorry, A. I'd undo it in a heartbeat if I could.

How about you? How are you praying today? How can I pray for you?

Wednesday Prayers: Affection

My prayer this week is one of gratitude. Over the last couple of weeks, I've gotten to spend time with people who make me smile, and that's one of my very favorite things to do. (You may not have guessed that, as I sometimes sound like a total misanthrope.) It's been good to see people I love, and to get to know others better.

AND I'm getting less wimpy about the phone. With practice, patience, and prayer (yours, maybe?), I might become sweet and friendly again, after all.

On the other hand, maybe not.

How's your people-stuff? Going swimmingly, or needing a lifeguard? Let me know, and I'll pray for your relationships, too.

No Means No

I have an old acquaintance, a friend from long ago, with whom I've felt uncomfortable for years. I knew the incidents that caused my discomfort, but I didn't know why they mattered. I held the relationship in a weird limbo where I dreaded being around her, but I felt unreasonable about that, so I continued to spend time with her.

Once she asked for a difficult favor, another time for details of my personal life. Both times I said no but eventually gave in, afraid I wasn't being a "good friend." I wish I'd realized then that "if you were really my friend" is an awful lot like "if you really loved me." I never would have bought that kind of line from a date. But from a friend? I didn't recognize it. If a man had ignored my limits the way she did, I would have known immediately that something was Very Wrong. Instead, two male friends withing the past year were both instantly respectful when I indicated that a topic was off-limits. It's easy to see the difference between being disrespectful and leaving a door open-- even when the latter is done clumsily, it's simple to distinguish. One says, "I need you to change your mind," and the other says, "I'll be here if you ever change your mind." When someone ignores "No," it means that what they want from you is more important than what you want for you. Period. Their want trumps you.

I've always thought that I am "less nice" because she is soft-spoken, introverted, and non-confrontational, and I am extroverted and .... direct. (That may be a euphemism. I don't always think Dr. House is too blunt). But I still had a nagging gut feeling that I didn't want to be around her. (Full disclosure: there are plenty of times when I really am not nice; I am blunt, impatient, irritable.) Saying no to someone who appears weaker is particularly difficult to me. Holding my own line begins to feel like battery. For years, I felt guilty. Now, I'm beginning to recognize manipulation. (Maybe this is why I've had Sondheim's Red Riding Hood on the brain lately, as she learned from the Wolf that "Nice is different than Good.")

This is a particularly hard, slow lesson for people who were abused as children. There's no frame of reference for our "No" having any meaning-- not consistently, at any rate. And since objecting often leads to more abuse ("no" being somehow heard as "more"), its meaning becomes confused. Since the people we love are the people we aren't allowed to resist, it seems normal when our limits are ignored. It can take years to unlearn this-- for the lucky people who unlearn it at all.

"Loving our neighbor" is not the same as "our neighbor has to be our friend." I want the best for this woman. I want her to be as healthy, happy, and whole as possible. But that does not mean she is my friend.

I am so, so grateful to be learning that my "No" means no as much as anyone else's. It might be basic to a lot of people, but it's a miracle for me.

(Day After)Wednesday Prayers: Teachability

The reading on Tuesday's Pray-as-You-Go meditation was from 1 Corinthians-- the bit about how awful it was that they were suing each other, and wouldn't or couldn't resolve their problems within the community of believers. How might we settle our differences? One way is for each of us to be willing to consider the possibility that we're wrong. The same humility that allows us to be wrong also keeps us kind to others when we're right. My initial thoughts brought about this week's prayer.

God, show me how to be teachable. Help me to be secure enough in Your love to let go of the shame of imperfection. Remind me to see mistakes as invitations to let You show me a better way. Keep my tone with others gentle, so that it's easier for them to be open, too. Heal me from the fear and hurt of those who punished rather than taught. Grant me this freedom that I may share it with others.

What's your prayer this week? Are you wrestling with a dispute, or enjoying a time of peace? Let me know, and I'll hold you in God's light.

The Honour of Your Presense is Requested

Growing up in (mostly) evangelical churches (also Catholic ones-- have we talked about what a mutt I am?), I was taught that there was nothing too big or small to pray for, nothing God might not do. Anything could happen when you prayed. I prayed over all kinds of things. Later, I was taught by an Episcopal priest that either God loves us, or God is omnipotent, but there's too much suffering in the world for both to be true. I tried to receive and share God's love, but I stopped asking for help in tough situations.

I've gone back to praying about everything. First of all: WOW, does that feel better.

But I've wondered-- what can God really do? I believe in free will, I don't think that God overrides our decisions and turns us into little robots. What I've landed on, instead, is that God is continually offering invitations. God doesn't control, but God invites, and those invitations are powerful. I've thought in terms of God's invitations to me for years now (what else is spiritual direction about?!), but somehow I hadn't taken that next logical step of finding hope in God's invitations to everyone.

A loved one has suffered from mental illness for many years. She will not, or cannot, see how her behavior, her rage and her recklessness, affects her family. I don't believe that God will magically cure the illness overnight, but when I believe that God is offering invitations to her (and will not stop offering them), I finally have hope that there might be healing.

A couple does not know how to love their son, and in fact might not know what love is at all. The invitations keep coming, though.

I believe God works like a loving parent who stands across the room, arms open wide, waiting for a child's first steps. I don't believe God forces us, shoves us, holds puppet strings. Our job, then, is to listen for the invitations, accept them as they come, and rest in the confidence that others are being invited, too.

Wednesday Prayers: Friendship

I'm thinking a lot about friendship lately-- what it is and isn't, and the truth that not everyone has to be my friend. (And not everyone who says they are uses the same definition I do!) I'll be writing more about that later, I'm sure.

In the meantime, I figured we might as well pray over friendships.

May the God of love who is the source of all our affection for each other formed here on earth take our friendships into divine keeping, that they may continue and increase throughout life and beyond it, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

-William Temple
(edited for gender)

Is there anything else I can be praying about for you this week? Or do you have a friendship that needs a little extra prayer?

And just as a bonus-- I just love this old hymn. It's been a favorite since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.

Summer Academy, Day 2

Thoughts from Day 2:

• I made a new friend! Maybe. At least a new running buddy, I think.
• One week of classes is not enough. It feels so good to be studying, to be engaged with other people who share my loves.
  
• It's amazing to be in two classes where a primary purpose is to share our stories. I love these opportunities to turn my flat first impressions of people into something much richer. I hear people's stories, and my heart expands to make room for them.
  
• Unfortunately, I'm so excited that I have to keep telling myself, "shutup, shutup, shutup, shutup!" to keep from babbling. I'm the verbal equivalent of an incontinent puppy.
• I love the writing class (as a group of people), but I don't love the practice, I think. I've got a regular routine of praying via journal first thing in the morning, and my non-prayer "morning pages" feel... a little lonely, honestly. If I'm going to be honest on paper, I need the comfort of bringing that honest to God.
  
• I'm FASCINATED by the grief class. (NOT, I want to be clear, in a carnival sideshow sort of way, but as something relevant to everyone, and as something I'm dealing with right now.) I kept thinking, everyone should learn these things! And then I realized, not everyone is going to learn the intricacies of loss and grief. We can't expect everyone to study this. We need people with understanding to accompany us, instead. Friends, I think this is something we're going to come back to. There's something going on here.

I had to come back and add to that last point: when I say "people with understanding," I don't mean people who have it all figured out or who will tell us what to do. I mean people who can listen, who can be with us, who can respect where we are.

Short Love Stories

I'm re-reading Robert Fulghum's Uh-Oh, and there's a brief chapter on "Short Love Stories." I'm such a sucker for this kind of thing. You know what I mean-- a brief connection in a coffee shop with a stranger, a shared laugh in the produce aisle. They're the "ships passing in the night" moments. They don't undermine our real relationships, they just make life a little sweeter. We can't always tell these stories, and there are some people who don't understand that they're simultaneously precious and innocuous. Here are some wee examples of my own:

• I moved to Bethesda, MD in January of my junior year of high school. I walked through downtown each morning on my way to school, using saying hello to the people I passed. On Valentine's Day that winter, a young man was waiting on a corner with a flower. We'd said hello a couple of times, and it turned out he was waiting for ME! Of course, we quickly sorted out that he was in college and I was 16, but it was a charming introduction to my new home.

• The sweet middle school saxophone player who said I looked like a gypsy. (To my 8th grade self, that was a compliment.)

• The handsome toll booth worker who laughed and teased me about getting lost, and showed me where to make a U-turn.
  

There's a whole subcatagory of country music about this-- my favorite being Conway Twitty's "Tight-Fittin' Jeans," but there are many.

Can I hear your little love stories?

Saturday Prayer: Wonder

Almighty and everlasting God, you made the universe with all its marvelous order, its atoms, worlds, and galaxies, and all the infinite complexity of living creatures: Grant that, as we prove the mysteries of your creation, we may come to know you more truly, and more surely fulfill our role in your eternal purpose; in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
-BCP p. 827

We're in DC this weekend, enjoying many things, but especially Mr. M's birthday. As I contemplate the "infinite complexity" of my wonderful husband, I have to celebrate his Creator as well.

Wednesday Prayer: Seeing One Another

Yesterday I met a group of people, and was blessed when they were honest. It's a gorgeous thing when we can see each other, and when we let ourselves be seen.

So, this week my prayer is one of Rilke's french poems, translated by A. Poulin, Jr.

O my friends, all of you, I renounce
none of you; not even that transient
who, from the inconceivable life, was
no more than a soft glance, open and hesitant.

How often, with an eye or gesture,
someone, despite himself, stops
the imperceptible flight of another
by paying attention to him for a moment.

Strangers. They play large parts
in our fate that every day completes.
O discreet stranger, take good aim,
as you lift your gaze towards my distracted heart.

Being attentive, that's my prayer for the week. How about you? What prayers may I add for you?

Family, Jesus, and the Holidays

The last several weeks have been chock-full of family-- either time with, or references to. We've spent time with Mr. M's family, I've met a half-brother for the first time (my father was... erm... prolific), I've cringed through various dramas on all sides of the family, I've attended one wedding where the families really seemed to like each other, and finally, I've listened to one Christmas sermon on how wonderful babies are.

So, I've been thinking about family from a lot of angles.

I've been thinking about whether the fact that someone is related to you is important. I have (see prolific pater familias, above) an awful lot of family I've never met. I have other family members who don't treat each other at all well. Geographical distance pretty much keeps me out of both groups, but I have questions about whether shared genes matter.

I've been thinking about whether it would be a good idea to add another generation to extended families that don't love each other very well. Honestly, it makes me a little queasy. I've been particularly struggling with this over the last several months. The Christmas Eve service felt really painful in light of this question.

I've been thinking about how precious the family you choose is. I've been able to travel a lot this year (not long trips, just a few states away, but several times), and on each trip I've been able to see people I love dearly. They're not technically sisters, brothers, cousins, and grandfathers, but my soul thinks they are.

I've been thinking about what we owe each other, as biological families, and whether that's really different from what we all owe each other as human beings.

During the Eucharist, I often think about the body of Christ all over the world receiving Communion with me: Rob, Nancy, Charlotte, Mary Beth, Diane, Kate, Robin, and scores more. Family.

And in the midst of all of this, I'm hearing Jesus rhetorically ask, "who are my mother and brothers?"