today, I will do another

What a storm. The cloud looked like a hovering  space ship... with weird blue colors in it. And it thundered and then cut loose with 20 minutes of 1 inch hail stones. We had just gone to Starbucks (our big-city treat) and then were headed back to the cottage --and WHAM. We were in the car, and it sounded like we were in a snare drum attack. Or something. The roads quickly filled with rushing water, and then the hail started. We did what we saw other motorists doing --and took refuge under a smallish tree --hoping the leaves and branches would break the fall of the hail stones, and that branches would not snap and flail.

We emerged unscathed. When we came home, our road had very little water on it --but within minutes it turned into a cascade, a rushing stream. Our street dead-ends into a wilderness area under the Dinosaur --for those of you who have ever been to Rapid.

I was glad to see it. Glad to see the power. Glad to see the wonder. Glad to see where the water drains. Glad to see it.

At prayer this morning (Canticle: A Song of Praise, Benedictus es,
Song of the Three Young Men, 29-34)

Glory to you, Lord God of our fathers; *
you are worthy of praise; glory to you.
Glory to you for the radiance of your holy name; *
we will praise you and highly exalt you for ever.

Glory to you in the splendor of your temple; *
on the throne of your majesty, glory to you.
Glory to you, seated between the Cherubim; *
we will praise you and highly exalt you for ever.

Glory to you, beholding the depths; *
in the high vault of heaven, glory to you.
Glory to you, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; *
we will praise you and highly exalt you for ever.

I painted one whole room in The Cottage. Walls and ceiling. It felt really really good to begin something and finish it. Completely. Very good.

God willing, today I will do another.
Amen.

caught up in unexpected corners

I ran away. Not really... but, yes. There was another funeral --the fifth funeral in ten days. And I suppose if I had to stay in town, I could have done it --like a marathon runner doing an extra mile or two.... But Joel has doctor appointments, in Rapid, so... I ran away. With Joel. And the dogs. To the Cottage. I think that is what we have decided to call this little place in Rapid. The Cottage.

We got here at 9pm last night. Dusk. The air smells different here --a different kind of sweet. There is a massive locust tree next door --in bloom --cascading blooms like wisteria or clusters of grapes. I haven't yet explored to see if it is that tree which is so fragrant.

I am deeply grateful for the layreaders who stepped up to preside at the wake last night --and my fellow priest to drive up from Pierre to take the funeral mass today. I need to soak in some life.... even if it is in a cottage that smells of old cigarette smoke... and the floors tip unreasonably... and we strip off our clothes and crawl in to bed in the dark because there are no window covers.

Of course --no relief lasts for long. Poor Mr. Witty had a third bout with massive fur and tail covering diarrhea --all over the bathroom and kitchen floor --poor pup. It must have been in the middle of the night. I can tell he was trying to get out the door. And Paeha decided to join in the fun and poop in the front room --in exchange for letting me sleep in.... I think, perhaps, we get a dog door today....

But.... since we are here with cots and camp chairs, I think that sitting outside on the little deck is in order --and so here I am.... Praying for the family burying their loved one this morning --praying for the priest who is taking over for me today --praying for my little dogs and my beloved --praying for the weeds in the back yard, and the wild flowers that make glory along the fence line and the cotton wood that has filled our yard with its cotton and the locust tree that blooms --praying for the families that have lost loved ones in the last few months --praying for the soldier that we are sending off --praying for the soldier who has just returned --praying for the families I serve and the gathering of all the Native churches next weekend.... praying for the poor that carry our economic system on their backs --for the powerful, that their hearts and minds may be moved....

--and I pray, not expecting a certain outcome... but to offer it all to God, who will redeem it all in ways that I cannot ask for nor imagine. But as a priestly people, that is our calling --offer it to God, from God's own creation --and God gives us God's very life back....

At least, in my mind's eye....

At prayer this morning (from 1 Samuel 1)

As she continued praying before the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; therefore Eli thought she was drunk. So Eli said to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.”

But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

No anxiety or vexation for me this morning.... Thanks be to God.... just prayers --like cottonwood tree down in the wind... caught up in unexpected corners... --of the garden of life --new green life all around.

cottonwood cotton

As One Body.

The Episcopal Cafe posted the link to this provoking article... which is food for thought: Chief Rabbi: atheism has failed. Only religion can defeat the new barbarians

The history of Europe since the 18th century has been the story of successive attempts to find alternatives to God as an object of worship, among them the nation state, race and the Communist Manifesto. After this cost humanity two world wars, a Cold War and a hundred million lives, we have turned to more pacific forms of idolatry, among them the market, the liberal democratic state and the consumer society, all of which are ways of saying that there is no morality beyond personal choice so long as you do no harm to others.
... 

In one respect the new atheists are right. The threat to western freedom in the 21st century is not from fascism or communism but from a religious fundamentalism combining hatred of the other, the pursuit of power and contempt for human rights. But the idea that this can be defeated by individualism and relativism is naive almost beyond belief. Humanity has been here before. The precursors of today’s scientific atheists were Epicurus in third-century BCE Greece and Lucretius in first-century Rome. These were two great civilisations on the brink of decline. Having lost their faith, they were no match for what Bertrand Russell calls ‘nations less civilised than themselves but not so destitute of social cohesion’. The barbarians win. They always do. 

The new barbarians are the fundamentalists who seek to impose a single truth on a plural world. Though many of them claim to be religious, they are actually devotees of the will to power.

Some interesting and provoking statements.... But, can a cohesive society be built in pluralism? Wouldn't such cohesion have to be based outside a single religious code? Is his parsing of the rise of nationalism, racism and the emerging strain of human rights truly only the history of Europe? And only as recent at the 18th Century...?

I can think of many challenges to his assertions. But his threading the needle with the idea that a civilization in decline always falls to barbarians... followed with "the new barbarians are the fundamentalists" left me thinking....

Which fundamentalists truly threaten our civilization? Religious? --or the religious and economic combined --you know, dig for oil/gas/whatever no matter the cost kind of economics --abuse the workers and don't pay them living wages or give them any benefits kind of economics.... or, the fundamentalists who read holy scriptures, and more, literally...?

I live in a petri dish of pluralism here --with the Baptist minister and other Christian denominations in town insisting that the images of an eagle or buffalo are pagan idols --and some Christians abhorring the drum or any other hint of traditional Lakota culture and belief in church --and some insisting that the drum and dancing are only cultural and easily brought in to Christian ceremony --and some insisting the use of any Lakota traditions in church is imperialism and wrong  --and some walking with a foot in both worlds....

It is extremely difficult to navigate sometimes... so I have sometimes come out on the side of radical hospitality --especially at funerals, when there are many denominations present in a family --and sometimes traditional Lakota present as well.

But pluralism and hospitality do not make me think that all religious thought is the same --yes, in the circumstances here, we all worship and speak to the same Creator --but the world of the spirits or communion of saints or Eucharist or Choke Cherry drink --it is all so very different. The worlds perceived are So. Very. Different.

I was reading parts of the Lakota grammar this morning --with coffee --an excellent way to wake up, by the way --and was more than bemused to discover that there are two "they" concepts when conjugating a verb. There is the "collective they" when you are referring to a group --and there is the "individual they"  when referring to a group which is also permeated with individuals acting in distinct and differing ways.

I had never thought about it. That way. At all, really. I suppose one could think of it this way: when the disciples were sitting around with Jesus and talking and discussing things --they were a collective they. When they each ran their own way after the arrest of Jesus --that is the individual they.... At least, as a newbie in this kind of "they" distinction, that is as close as I can come right now to an understanding.

I am confident there will be new insights with this new horizon opening up... but I think the sync with the article is perfect. Can we prevent total disintegration when each runs their own way? Can we build a civilization on an "individual they" understanding. If so, what is our root of they-ness?

At prayer this morning (Luke 20:1-8)

One day, as Jesus was teaching the people in the temple and telling the good news, the chief priests and the scribes came with the elders and said to him, “Tell us, by what authority are you doing these things? Who is it who gave you this authority?”

He answered them, “I will also ask you a question, and you tell me: Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”

They discussed it with one another, saying, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ all the people will stone us; for they are convinced that John was a prophet.”

So they answered that they did not know where it came from. Then Jesus said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

Hmmmmm..... The root. The authority. The author. Discernment is the key --and if we put authorship in/on/by/with something it can also become subject to idolatry....

It's a dance.
An un-choreographed dance.

And that will drive all idolators mad.

Off I go. To bury the dead. And give thanks to God. With a drum in the church. Navigating a wild place. And giving death its due.

As One Body.

Weeping and Joy in the morning.

At prayer this morning (Luke 19:41-48)

As Jesus came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, “It is written,

‘My house shall be a house of prayer’;
but you have made it a den of robbers.”

Every day he was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him; but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.

I worry about the grass being so tall, and me with no time to mow it.

I pray for the children of Cherry Creek. Just because. I picked some sage there last week, and I'm trying to dry it. Last time, the sage smelled like horse piss. Probably because there was... wild horse piss.

I am caught off guard by the continued rains. It seems all our rain prayers are being answered. Time and time again. There must have been a horrid storm while we were in Rapid. Huge branches are down all over the place --some blown forty feet in to the back yonder behind the house. Other branched are strewn about the house --probably stopped mid-air by the house itself. The clothes line got a few hung up in it. Storms.

The Tribal nursing home --assisted living-- finally opened. A politician held a special meeting with tribal leaders years ago --said, don't bring lawyers or anything --we are going to write a good law for Indian health --and then passed a law prohibiting medicare and medicaid from being used at this institution. I hope they have figured a way around the law, because they certainly don't have the clout to change it.... Must have figured a way around the law... it's opening --and this is such good news for the elders. The only other alternative (for those who have no immediate family to care for them) was off-reservation. In another, untrustworthy world.

When I got back from Bismark yesterday, the dogs were frantic and Joel was gone. I checked the basement to make sure he hadn't fallen --checked around the house, inside and out --no Joel, no note --zappo. Gone. So I said my prayers, and readied myself for the wake that would begin in a few hours. At about 4pm, Joel finally came home --I had been called for a dying person at the hospital --Joel went in my stead. He did last rites --and stayed to be with the family until the funeral home arrived. Thank you Joel. Thank you God, for Joel --who has taught me so very much about being a priest --all the old, old ways, the old, old stories, the old, old prayers --all of which are so right here.

Yesterday, I told the old, old story of why the devil is mad at God. That Lucifer (Day Star--the Light Bearer) got mad at God when he found out what God desired for mortal humans --to join God on the Throne of Heaven, immortal although mortal. Day Star decided to ruin God's work. When God decided to disgrace God's self and become human flesh and blood and die....

The old, old stories. The stories the people the told.

Like so many of the old, old stories here.

--what are the things that make for peace? --what makes a place not a house of prayer? --why do we wish to kill that which brings life? --and are spell bound any way....?

Our divisions and addiction to power are older than the old, old stories.

Hey God, it's me, margaret. The children. The elders. The storms. My beloved, doing for me in my absence. The old, old stories. I do not feel adrift --but unfettered. I do not feel weighed down --but weighty. I feel your presence, God --and when I look out over the prairie, your unimaginable vastness. I cannot comprehend you. Even so, I know your touch. Yet I long for you. For more. And not only for me. But for the children. The elders. Your world --our mother earth. My beloved. I feel the old, old stories well up in me, in my DNA, in the memories I never had. Father. God. Great Mystery. I have no direct prayer or intention this morning --only longing and fulfillment coupled. As one.

Weeping and Joy in the morning.
The things that bring peace.
Amen.

power is made perfect in weakness

Came home from Rapid (180 miles). Answered my phone calls, and got back in the car and drove to Bismark (160 miles), ND. Another ICU journey.

Please keep the Blue Coat family in your prayers.

At prayer this morning (from 2 Cor. 12)

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

Hmmmm.... that's a good one. I'll have to think about that one all day --as I visit an elder in the ICU here, drive home and prepare to bury another with a two-night wake and Saturday funeral.... I wonder what they think/have thought of weakness as perfecting power....

It seems I have less and less time recently to reflect... and that is not so good. In most places, summer is the time things slow down. Here, it is the opposite. Summer is busy, busy, busy.

So, off I go. It's Central time here, so I am an hour behind already.

Snowden played the game and then got a conscience and dissed his wicked Lord

Frankly, the big "spy" news about Snowden and the hyperventilating going on has not surprised me...

--as a matter of fact, while I do understand the discomfort many feel in "big brother," and I do question whether or not all this data collection really does "keep us safe" --I am more puzzled at the alarms going off right now than I am at the revelation of the scope of data collection.

Here is a little bit of history on Patriot Act wiretapping. This so-called Snowden revelation just isn't news... my cynical self suspects some kind of agenda here. Just sayin'.

Besides... the hardcore un-naive possibly jaded woman warrior in me wants my government to be at least as smart as those multinational corporations out there.... I'm not saying it's right. I'm not saying I really really like it. I am just unable to get my knickers in a knot over it all --I think my eyes have been open for a while.

--just sayin'.

And --the snarky me, in theological reflection, would say this type of surveillance is just like God! --to you all hearts are open, all desires known, from you no secrets are hid.... We pray that reality every week! ("Collect for Purity," BCP, p355)

That is snark, you know... in this case.

Grandmere Mimi provides a thoughtful reflection. She provides an interesting link too.

So. There we are. Unsnowed by Snowden. Poor young man --like Don Quixoti...Frankly, I think he is chasing windmills.... I suspect there are far worse things going on out there than data collection...

“Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is noble, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth."

"What giants?" Asked Sancho Panza.

"The ones you can see over there," answered his master, "with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long."

"Now look, your grace," said Sancho, "what you see over there aren't giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone."

"Obviously," replied Don Quixote, "you don't know much about adventures.”

              ― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

Oh my... I am jaded, aren't I?

At prayer this morning (Luke 19:11-27)

As they were listening to this, Jesus went on to tell a parable, because he was near Jerusalem, and because they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately.

So he said, “A nobleman went to a distant country to get royal power for himself and then return. He summoned ten of his slaves, and gave them ten pounds, and said to them, ‘Do business with these until I come back.’

But the citizens of his country hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to rule over us.’

When he returned, having received royal power, he ordered these slaves, to whom he had given the money, to be summoned so that he might find out what they had gained by trading.

The first came forward and said, ‘Lord, your pound has made ten more pounds.’ He said to him, ‘Well done, good slave! Because you have been trustworthy in a very small thing, take charge of ten cities.’

Then the second came, saying, ‘Lord, your pound has made five pounds.’ He said to him, ‘And you, rule over five cities.’

Then the other came, saying, ‘Lord, here is your pound. I wrapped it up in a piece of cloth, for I was afraid of you, because you are a harsh man; you take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow.’

He said to him, ‘I will judge you by your own words, you wicked slave! You knew, did you, that I was a harsh man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? Why then did you not put my money into the bank? Then when I returned, I could have collected it with interest.’

He said to the bystanders, ‘Take the pound from him and give it to the one who has ten pounds.’ (And they said to him, ‘Lord, he has ten pounds!’) ‘I tell you, to all those who have, more will be given; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.’”

This is not a parable of the Kingdom, nor a parable about God. It is a parable about wickedness and the powers of this world. It is a parable of humble nobility.... The Lord of which Jesus speaks is a wicked man bent on profit and having his own way. His own people hated him. He gave his slaves the job carrying out his wickedness of profit-making while he was away. Two slaves were rewarded for playing the game. The third did not play the game, and suffered for it. The wicked Lord pronounced the way of the world --to all those who have, more will be given; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine ... --bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.... Jesus is asking us, which slave will you be like?

That is what we are really up against....

In this, Snowden played the game and then got a conscience and dissed his wicked Lord. And I am afraid he will suffer for it. And for that, I am sorry. He is braver than I.

Keeping my eyes focused....

Just sayin'.

The rich person who does not go after gold....

I have decided not to think today.

Perhaps I shall tear a wall out of our little cottage in Rapid. --yes, that is where I am --parishioner in ICU... visited last night, will visit again today. AFTER I tear a wall out....

At prayer this morning (Ecclesiasticus 31:3-11)

The rich person toils to amass a fortune,
and when he rests he fills himself with his dainties.
The poor person toils to make a meagre living,
and if ever he rests he becomes needy.

One who loves gold will not be justified;
one who pursues money will be led astray by it.
Many have come to ruin because of gold,
and their destruction has met them face to face.
It is a stumbling-block to those who are avid for it,
and every fool will be taken captive by it.
Blessed is the rich person who is found blameless,
and who does not go after gold.
Who is he, that we may praise him?
For he has done wonders among his people.
Who has been tested by it and been found perfect?
Let it be for him a ground for boasting.
Who has had the power to transgress and did not transgress,
and to do evil and did not do it?
His prosperity will be established,
and the assembly will proclaim his acts of charity.

The rich person who does not go after gold... isn't that an oxymoron.... --and who is blameless? Ecclesiasti--CUSS.... not found in protestant bibles.... Perhaps it is because of verses such as these!

Where's that wall....

the path of vulnerability as the way of Love

Yesterday-- during the sermon, I got up to preach what I had prepared  --and something else came out. Praying together, in a room full of parents, all of whom had lost a child, some of them two --and there was that gospel reading about raising the young man from the dead because he was all his mother had....

I had to address that.... if that child raised, why not my child? Was my faith too weak? Was I being punished --my child being punished? What did I do wrong? If God saw her pain and suffering, why does God not see mine?

These are the kinds of questions parents ask when their child dies....

--questions surrounded by anger, doubt, searing agony, loss of hope....

And Gospel stories of God raising children from the dead rub salt in the wounds... it's enough to make one want to walk away.

And some do.

I don't know exactly what I said in full --except I wept --I wept at my own remembering --I wept at seeing the faces, and me standing up there speaking of a pain that resonated with theirs. And in my mind's eye all my seminary teachers were standing behind me saying things like --keep your own stuff out of the pulpit, don't cry up there --things like that.

And there I was, weeping. Confessing that when I got to heaven, God would have some 'splaining to do... And telling of the years it took to get to a place of peace, and then even later, hope. Because the Kingdom of God is alongside us, beside us --because in God there is no light nor dark, the day and the night are both the same --and if we die, we die in the Lord, and if we live, we live in the Lord, and we are called to faithfulness, not knowingness....

We are called to faithfulness.

And, so this morning, I will trundle my body over to the church, and we will bury seven month old McKenzie. After a day of sitting and waiting and praying in the hospital --the questions asked, wanting to go back and do some things differently --but no matter the tears and desire she remained lifeless --and now we will bury her, in her little pink shoes and a ribbon in her hair.

We will give her to God. In faith. Confident of our unknowingness.

Give her in to the hands of that great mystery, death, trusting that God is there, too.

At prayer this morning (beginning at Luke 18:31)

Then Jesus took the twelve aside and said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.”

But they understood nothing about all these things; in fact, what he said was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

God knows the pain of losing a child. God knows our pain. God knows the pain of death. Intimately.

Even God has chosen the path of vulnerability as the way of Love.

Off I go.

Please keep little McKenzie's family in your prayers. Her baptismal name is Blue Zion Angel of Mercy. Her mom is in jail and was not released for the funeral. Her aunties and uncles and cousins (in the Lakota way --her moms and dads and sisters and brothers) all weep in this loss. Please keep them all in your prayers.

young folks show up any minute now

It rained here overnight. It hardly seems news worthy any more, but it still thrills me... the green has become so intense, it almost hurts the eyes. It is much greener this year. Much.

Trouble is this morning, --I was struggling in the church yard with the places where the weeds are still three feet tall --with the old lawn mower and weed eater. And the YouthWorks staff came over to talk about projects --I was expecting them. It was a wonderful talk --all fresh and all that. Outlined a few projects --and then the young man said he would come back and help me with the lawn work. I invited them for coffee --love coffee --so, they are due here any time in the next few minutes --for coffee... but I don't think they'll make much headway on the lawn... not with the rain.

And it is supposed to rain much of the day.... which means mud in the cemetery --and it is a muddy cemetery to begin with, down in a dell. We will bury him next to his brother, who died a few months ago --and a guy passed out because of the heat then... now, we will all get stuck in the mud.

One thing I have noticed this year --there aren't as many grasshoppers. Last year, the road writhed with them --I haven't seen even one, yet. I wonder if they will come when it is warmer. Or dryer.

And Joel sang a song to Paeha this morning --something about the little dog that controls our sleep....

O little dog, who dost control our sleep....

I am sure there is a poem there somewhere....

At prayer this morning (from 2 Cor. 9, ending with verse 15)

The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work. As it is written, “He scatters abroad, he gives to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.” He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness.

You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God.

Through the testing of this ministry you glorify God by your obedience to the confession of the gospel of Christ and by the generosity of your sharing with them and with all others, while they long for you and pray for you because of the surpassing grace of God that he has given you.

Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

It is one of those mornings --where if I decided to be lazy, oh, how I could be. But I am called in six ways this morning --blessed with abundance, overflowing with seed --and there is work to do --like to make another pot of coffee for those young folk who will show any minute...

off I go.

See how it is here

There is tangible tension when a body is pulled out of the morgue for ceremony. At the IHS hospital there is a specific room --like a chapel, but it is round, skylight at the top that is pulled together so that it resembles the insides of a tipi, and it is built with a special fan so the burning of incense --sage and sweet grass, is possible.

But, when the family gathers and prepares to greet the body-- I am usually prepared for just about anything. Except what happened yesterday....

The doctor tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow. He led me down the hall and around the corner.

"This is a deeply divided family," he said.

"A death usually reveals the divisions, but you know that," I said.

"Yes, but did you know someone in this family wants to beat you up?" he said emphatically. "They have plans to beat you up."

I felt the mantle pull over my shoulders --the spiritual mantle I use to help prevent an emotional reaction from spilling out at the moment. "What?" I said.

"From an event that happened a while ago --you did something grossly offensive. Do you know anything about it --something about a car..." He tried to fill me in, give me clues.

I was clueless. "I can't think of anything..."

"So, are you going to do ceremony anyway?" he asked.

"Yes. Of course. I was asked here. Many families have dual rituals --and sometimes it is just dangerous to be white and walk down the street here."

"You are unconcerned," he said.

"I am unconcerned," I said. I turned and walked back down the hall. The family gathered at the morgue doors, the little baby, all wrapped in her blanket, the steel cart, the sound of the wheels against the tile, the stifled piercing crying.... I walked last in the procession. Heart beating.

I confess... I was concerned. I kept wondering if push came to shove, would I try to defend myself, of would I just take the beating.... ?

An hour or so later, after the sage and the prayers, while the mom was holding the baby in her arms in the chapel, older sister nearby --I whispered to the mom, "somebody told me me I had offended someone --and I would like to apologize."

"What?" she said.

"Somebody wants to beat me up, and I want to apologize. And I don't know what I have done."

She started to laugh. "No that wasn't you. It was someone else here. She's gone now." And she kept giggling to herself. "Besides, it wouldn't help to beat a priest!"

When the grandpa came in, the grandchildren ran away. Grandpa lives on the streets, and he is a scary sight.... His daughters (the moms in the room) all pulled out their perfume --can I spray you dad? And he said yes and smiled, and everyone laughed and laughed and laughed as each one sprayed him, trying to cover the street stench.

Death. Gut wrench. Fear. Laughter. See how it is here, they say to me. See how it is.

At prayer this morning (Luke 18:9-14)

Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

I read the headlines this morning --about the government spying and monitoring phone calls and all that mess.... And I am amazed that people are shocked. Has no one been paying attention since 9/11 --is this really news --yes, it's bad and wrong and all that --but, American citizens as drone targets, kidnappings, secret prisons, Guantanamo, --or is it merely more right-wing propagandizing, politicizing, striking while the iron seems hot.... Where was the outrage when Bush instigated all these things....?

Here.... Here, at least it is all plain. Very plain. In your face plain. And honest. Honest Grief. Honest fear and violence. Honest laughter. See how it is here.

God, be merciful to us --sinners, all.
Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus

It was an early morning. Got a call from the ER. An infant has died. Please keep the G family and relatives in your prayers.

Much work to do.

At prayer (from Luke 18)

And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?

Come, Lord Jesus.
Amen.

whoooomp, there it is.

It was an old lady that used to lived here. We were told that she was put on hospice and taken from the house and died, and then her relatives came and cleaned out the house and put it on the market.

I have major clues what she died from --I have been cleaning... started with the windows because they were so thick with filth that I couldn't see one, and then realized that the filth was actually cigarette smoke remains. I would spray the window with cleaner, and the brown stuff would streak down the window. I had to clean not only the window, but the window frames, the mouldings --everything. Thick. Dark. Brown.

I started on the cabinets in the kitchen too... really gross. Thick. Dark. Brown.

So, I think I know what she died from.... As I cleaned, I have prayed. Prayed for her, for her family. Prayed for all those addicted to smoking.

If you smoke, please stop. At the very least, don't make someone else clean up after you like this.... It's really, really, really gross. And probably unhealthy.

Really gross. To run a rag over the woodwork around the window, and have the rag come away the color of coffee.... really gross.

I thought the house had been freshly painted --just poorly painted. Now I can tell that someone else tried to clean --and got the first coat of muck off. Now, I will do the rest. I won't finish by the time we leave today, but major parts will be finished.

It's going to be great when we are done.

But today I make the mental shift to care for Joel and his body --and tonight, when we get back, there will be a blessing --got a call last night, married for twenty years, wants a blessing. That will be true joy. Tomorrow I meet with a young man from YouthWorks (they have a family mission camp in Eagle Butte) --for projects in and around --I will ask them to build a ramp to one of the churches. A young mother in that place wants to come to church, but can't --she had both legs amputated. And another is lacking siding on her house --and she does incredible work for the church and for the elders.

And then I have to get together all the names of baptisms and deaths --for the Niobrara Convocation coming the third week of June --all the Native churches get together --three days --Sunday Eucharist, and we pray the names.

And a funeral this weekend.
And church in Eagle Butte and Cherry Creek.

As I am writing this, I feel as though I am recalling what's ahead because I have been away for ten weeks, and I have to remind myself what I am all about --and that soon, soon enough, there will be balance --more balance and easier transitions.

At prayer this morning (Luke 17:20)

Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.”

No matter what I am doing, no matter where I am --whoooomp, there it is.

The Kingdom of God is among us.
All the time.
Thanks be to God.

maybe a burnt offering like that....

The birds are different here than out on the open prairie. We are tucked right up against the Black Hills here --birds sounds I don't know. I have seen cardinals, robins, doves galore, bright yellow birds --tiny yellow birds, blue jays --I haven't seen blue jays in years. Oh so fancy.

The dogs love it because they can run without leashes --yes, the yard is entirely fenced. And there are things like SQUIRRELS --that run in the tree branches, taunting poor Mr. Witty, who had never seen a squirrel before we moved to Richmond --and it took him a year to figure out that they disappeared up the trees and telephone poles --and they became his much beloved arch enemy. Now, Paeha can't figure out what Mr. Witty is doing, barking and running and chasing the squirrels overhead --but he follows suit as best as he is able, looking around for whatever it is, and not seeing it.

And the contractor said he would like very much to take the job of giving this place a foundation. And that pleases me very much. The little house sits on old brick piers which are giving way to the elements, having lost their glaze decades ago. Mounds of clay, now. And the piers have given way at different rates, so the east side of the house is lower than the west side of the house; the north and south parts divide it right down the middle. There is a certain poetry to it.

The kitchen is so old and so funky I do not want to change a thing. The only thing I would hope for is a gas stove --and the dream, of course, would be a retro gas range of some kind....




This stove would fit our kitchen perfectly....

I love it. --and we would not have to pay extra to gain an oven that we would not have to bend over for, if you know what I mean --and the broiler too.... wish I had my grandmother's stove....

Dream on.

So... in my prayers today... all those who are homeless, who have lost their homes to recent storms --worse, their loved ones. For those whose homes are less than adequate. For those in the places I serve --ever present in my heart and mind.

--and, oh yeah --Joel has out-patient surgery tomorrow --skin cancer thingy. Not the bad type, but it was big. And they have to dig for the root. He's not going to be happy.

At prayer this morning (from Deuteronomy 12)

--so that you live in safety, then you shall bring everything that I command you to the place that the LORD your God will choose as a dwelling for his name....

We will not offer burnt sacrifices here... maybe a little sage and sweet grass... when we have the house blessing... although there was the time that Joel announced to my mother that he liked crispy pork, and so she served him the end piece of the roast --and after dinner she took all the left over roast and cut it in to chunks and broiled it --and Joel had crispy pork --more than enough.

Maybe a burnt offering like that......

Until then, off I go.

our getaway. our love nest. our safety net.

Today is a day --for me to dream. Of removing large trees without danger. Of building rooms. Maybe. At least a functioning foundation. Of a simple garden of herbs. Of late mornings and lazy afternoons. Of dogs without leashes. Of little house gods....

It's 650 square feet of 1930 cottage. One bedroom. One bath. Needs work. And love. The floors slope. The kitchen is old. Very old. The bathroom --well, never mind. Maybe we can get the sink to work. The old lady smoked --it needs major cleaning and paint inside and out.... But it has real potential.

We were spending so much on hotels, it was cheaper to buy this little box. With garage. It is our getaway. Our love nest. Our safety net.

Although I know I shouldn't --I do feel guilty. But, as you can tell from the houses in the background, ours is the worst house in the neighborhood. Perhaps we shall keep it that way....

We lost our shirts, pants and shoes on the last house --swore we would never buy a house again. And then we found out we couldn't take a tax loss on our loss --such a loss only remains for 'professional' house owners, like landlords and real estate agents.... But we would have to pay taxes on the pittance remaining unless we re-invested. So we did.

And there we are.

At prayer this morning (beginning at Luke 17:1)

Jesus said to his disciples, “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come! It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble. Be on your guard!

I hope and pray this house does not become a stumbling block for any one.... Especially us.

Just sayin'.
Off I go.
To meet the tree guy to cut down the large dead tree in the backyard. To meet the contractor who, I hope, will fix the foundation. To see the insurance lady. To get internet in to the house. God willing.

unforbidden garden all around

SDE's grand daughter made the honor roll this year. SDE didn't even know it --until attending the 8th grade graduation ceremony. Grand daughter lives in SDE's house. SDE says, --well, I must be doing something right! And we all laugh!

It is quiet good things like that, that make my heart soar.

And, it is good things like that, that so often aren't told. Grand daughter has also qualified for a special college-prep summer course. When I see her next, I shall congratulate her. Big time.

And K has left for her home this morning --the house feels empty.... sigh. We were tent-mates at Taize, and that was good. The weather didn't permit a lot of the work planned, but she was a great help in clearing shrubs turning in to trees along the foundation of St. John's and in the parking lot along the fence. Soul-wise, I prefer a chaotic fence line --growing things breaking through and breaking down man-made barriers. Practically, a chain link fence that doesn't harbor pipes that can be broken off and used as a weapon is far more preferable. If you know what I mean.

So, the yard is far tidier. And I am very grateful.

And today I go to a memorial dinner --a blessing of the head stones, a dinner and give away usually held about a year after the death of a loved one. A release of the soul. A recognition that the time of official mourning is nearing its conclusion. I have made a few phone calls --what am I expected to do? And we will do a liturgy with incense and holy water, we will have communion, and a huge dinner.

I feel honored to do things like this.

I just hope the road is passable. The road to Cherry Creek is notorious for its challenges.

I can't wait to see how full the Creek is --and what it looks like with the Cheyenne River full.... And if the horses that are never behind fences in that part of the world --oh yeah, I forgot, the woman we are remembering today loved to feed the horses when they came in to her yard.

So, that is my work today --the shifting tides of water and road, from aching grief to familiar grief, recognizing a young person who is doing well, celebrating a kept fence line in contrast to the chaotic borders in my soul.

At prayer this morning (Luke 16:19-31)

Jesus said, “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.

The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.

He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’

But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’

He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house – for I have five brothers – that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’

Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’

He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’

He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Some Christian stories tell of how Jesus broke down the great chasm between torment and comfort in the life to come. Personally, I think he broke down more than that. He broke the barrier between this life and the life to come. Eternal life is now. Already. Got dunked in that water of life and rose from the dead right then and there, and have joined already in the life on the other side of that tree --unforbidden garden all around.

Just sayin'.

Just is, we are soooo blind we keep looking for it..... (and if we claim we are not, we are even more so).

Off I go.