Tuesday, September 24, 2013

a day (off) in the life of . . . .

a day off; nothing special, except, it WAS special; it prepared me for today . . . .

i got up and attended to house chores; the front- and back-yards needed tending; followed by laundry, cleaning, soup-making; filing and reconciling . . . does this sound familiar?  it isn't my regular day-off pattern; i try to do something renewing, and chores are not at the top of my list -- imagine!

and yet, i found myself somehow comforted in the 'doing'; so much so that by 3:30, i was so ready to be done with my chores and headed off for a renewing walk on west cliff dr.

what i saw:  they are repairing the walkway down to the beach (repairs reminded me too much of  my life at church, and so i walked on! -- but not before i noticed the insignia placed on the side of the stairwell -- the word 'open' over a mosaic red heart; ok, it made me think of my life at church again, but in a different way;  ok, so i'm always thinking about my church life; the difference between my life as a pastor and my life as a person is difficult to turn off, but maybe that's the 'god thing' in me; i'm never far away from who i am meant to be!  and that's not a negative in my estimation!)

what i saw:  a number of people walking the way; biking, running, walking, skating; dogs, a bird (how DOES one walk a bird?!) leisurely, driven, communal; this was a beautiful monday to be out and about!  and still, what i came across was a memory.
having grown up in daly city, i seemed to always be surrounded by ice plants, yet i rarely saw them in bloom.  my elementary school, thomas edison (now combined with the twin school next door to form a middle/junior high school) was surrounded by an ice plant hill.  perhaps we had too much fog, and not enough sun for the plants to bloom, but here in santa cruz, blossoms galore!  big, pale yellow blossoms, mostly.
there is nothing like a day which allows one to remember and reflect.  while i would not like to re-live even one of my childhood days (unlike emily in thornton wilder's our town ) my memories yesterday focused on some of those happy times; is there at least one happy memory from your past that made all the difference in the world?!

and i experienced more than a sense of renewal as i awoke this morning.  and then, following my small group encounter, i got a call from someone that shared a poem from mary oliver, entitled the summer day for which, here in santa cruz, we are experiencing today!  i found that poem on garrison keillor's 'the writer's almanac' website.  might this reflect such a day as this?  it reads,

Who made the world?   Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?   This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, 
how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

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