The Incarnation and Love





I woke up this morning thinking about the incarnation.  I know how that sounds.  This does not happen to me often.  I am not always thinking on such high ideals.  So much rattles around in my head, it's a wonder something true gets through.  Anyway, I was thinking about the incarnation and how God goes to all this trouble to become a man so that we can become more like him.  I was thinking, as I put my feet to the floor, what do I do to honor such an act of love.  Here is this God who has and is everything, He empties himself to become a human baby boy to die on the cross, and what am I doing to show love and respect for such an act.  I was hard pressed to come up with a good answer.  I remember hearing Fr. Alexander Golizin speak once in Great Lent about Christ dying on the cross, and how we need only die a little. I believe he meant die to our passions and that which keeps us from loving God and our brother.  Maybe if I could just love a little bit, that would honor the incarnation and the love of God for us.  Just a little bit.  How can I ever hope to love as God loves?  Christ is Born!  Glorify Him!

Clarity

I had this moment of clarity today.   Today  I saw what I needed to see, and knew all will be well because I could see so clearly.  I love it when this happen, and look forward to what comes of it.  It is a good thing to grow up and be able to look at yourself and know what you had suspected all along.

My Small Plea to Make a Plan

Death has been on my mind a lot lately because I now work in the "End of Life" Industry.  It's a whole new world out there when you work so closely to an industry that services vulnerable people.   What I am learning now, is that we all need to educate ourselves in what our options are.  That is why I am working on my Green Burial Seminar.  I have learned so much in the last three months about what our rights are, and what we are told.  We all need to look at our mortality, and make plans.  It's so easy for our loved ones to be taken in hand and told what they need to do because we have not taken the time to make our own decisions on what we want.  I don't think that the industry is necessarily filled with folks waiting to take advantage.  From what I have seen, for the most part, are people who want to help people.  The trouble is that in the time of need we follow along conventional paths.  I spent all day working on my seminar.  I love this subject.  I need to start limiting my scope and make it pithy.  As the Queen of the Nutshell, this appeals to me.  Make a plan.  Talk with those you love!  You never know what is around the corner.

The Wall

It's strange to me how sometimes in life we come to a point were all seems hopeless and we just do not want to go on, and we give up.  Then if we just move a little toward what we want all changes, and we are able to move.  Sometimes this feels like a tangible wall.  Sometimes it feels deep down in your gut and it's just a terrible feeling like nothing is right.  I find this interesting and strange.  Sometimes it goes on for quite sometime and it's a dark night of the soul, and sometimes it's the afternoon or a few days.  What I learn from this is that once I let go of the control factor, things tend to settle into place.  Maybe it's the letting go of the ego of the situation.  I know me ego gets in the way of lots of things that I can accomplish.  That is to say, I get in my own way.  What I am struck with is the moment before things change, that sometimes is indeed dark.  If I can give up my ego and continue down the path that I am convinced is correct, things get much better.

Babies and Mothers

A mother came in yesterday to talk about the marker of her baby who died thirty years ago.  Her grief was palpable.  She kept telling me that she and her husband did not have the money at the time to complete the marker and wanted to do so now.  She looked to me like any mother who wants the best for her babies, and who could just not do it at the time, but did her very best.  I could not find all the information we needed for all the details she wanted to know.  We will meet later.  I went out to search out the grave.  I am new and I need to learn the park, and I wanted to have some idea  what kind of marker I was dealing with.  I found it, along with the bouquet with a beautiful white ribbon.  I know the father did not come with her, and I know that the anniversary date was soon.  I cried for her, her baby and for the near loss of my own babies.  Some of the story I had not told my sweet husband until this morning because it was so terrible and scary and near bleak.  I am so grateful for my two boys, and my own life.  Had I had these babies a eighty years ago, I would not have survived the first and if I had, the second child would not have lived.  I live everyday with  miracles, gifts I do not deserve.  Peace to all mothers.

There's No Justice. There's Just Us

For a week or more I have had this little saying I read in a Canadian women's prison running through my head.  I used to think it was the women acting out and feeling sorry for themselves.  I think it would be easy to do in prison, sometimes I manage to do so without the benefit of being incarcerated.  I have been thinking that there really is not real justice when it comes to humans passing it out.  We are flawed and tend towards wanting to enslave each other in one way or another.  As Christians we hope in the justice of God knowing  it is a justice of love.  Sometimes I wonder if I could handle that.  If we follow Christ, we know that we are here to love each other.  I mean we are to love the person next to us, the one most immediate.  I am not always very good about that.  I tend to love the ones that are easy for me to love.  What I want to do is to love more boldly and love those who I find hard to love.  In that way, the world changes.  I do not believe we can change the world for the better, making people do things they do not want to do just because it makes our lives softer.  In a nutshell, there is not justice, there is just us.  All we have is each other, and we may as well try to love each other more if we want to change the world. 

Connected

This last week, I sat with no fewer than three families who had lost their loved ones.  I am amazed that my work  brings me into contact with people at such tender times in their lives.  On Friday, I led a funeral of a man who served for his country.  I am sorry to say, that while I have access to some of his military record, I had not found the time to read it.  I have no idea where he served to what he did.  What I do know is that the Navy sent out two of her men to attend the funeral and perform the full military honors due him.  I pulled up, and because I was the lead car, I was the first car my car was saluted.  I felt completely unworthy of it, and of course I am.  When have I risked my life for countless many who I do not even know and those yet unborn.  As I got out and waited for him to be carried out of the hearse, I was struck again that while this was a family event, all of us were touched in someway by this man and somehow that makes it a public event.  I stood there and thought of how all of us are connected in ways we do not even know and how we all belong to one another.  Every person is part of our lives in one way or another.  We are the same humanity, and our actions effect the lives of everyone on the planet.  This gives me pause.  I know I am responsible for my actions and I can not even begin to see what they do to those I have not met, and to those yet unborn.  May I keep getting back up, every time I fall.  May I learn to love and serve my brother I have yet to meet.  May my heart open to the possibilities of love. May I be peace.

Love When the Sky is Falling

Ten years have past since that bright Tuesday that changed our lives.  Still, when I look back,  I tremble with the fear and anger I felt when The Towers fell.  I know enough to know that the primary emotion is fear, and then anger follows.  I know that fear is a killer as well as its close buddy anger.  I know also there is no love in fear and anger.  I know that I must always pray for my enemies for they are really my brothers, and if I think about it, they are me.  We are all made of the same stuff, and so are bound together.  Those who drove those airplanes in those buildings were most likely not thinking that we were all  the same.  I suspect they were thinking we were those guys.  This day's memory brings me to that core belief that we are the same, and that we are made to love each other and shakes it like nothing else ever has.  I remember my husband and I afterwards going to the icon corner and saying our prayers.  We made an effort to included prayers for love of enemies because I knew I did not want to.  I struggle with the old man when this day comes.  I know we are all in this together and that we are to love those who even seek to kill us.  Such a tall order for me on a day like this.  I also think of those who loved others and willingly gave their lives so that others might live.  So on a day that has such hatred, fear and anger, I remember also a day filled with love, kindness and bravery to such a degree, I can never get my head around some of it.  May I be more and more like the first responders and go in and love especially when the sky is falling.

Blue Skies

These skies are unbelievable!!!!! 

I have my sweet husband and partner in crime with me.  Our children are in school, and my husband and I  begin to make sure we have the space here for our things.  We have begun our adventure together in the USA.

As my husband said today, it took 45 years to get a Vuyadinov  in America, but it has finally happened.  My father-in-law always wanted his family to live in the US, but chose to live in Canada because David was on the way and it would have taken another year to immigrate to the USA.  Tata wanted his family to live in the New World, so he took his family to Canada since he had an Australian passport, and could live in Canada.  That man had the most powerful dream to live on after his death.  We are doing as he always wanted, and for which he sacrificed.  I loved, love that man and am so honored to fulfill his dream.

It's blue skies.

My Creative Journey to Now

Four years ago, I was stressed out.  Ok, I'm still stressed out, but now I can find happiness.   Four years ago, my father  just had his first brain surgery and I had a six month old baby and a three year old to care for.  I was stressed and I felt like I was not living my life fully.  I had talents I wanted to use, but I was not doing it.  It's hard work being a mother of small boys.  It's the best work I have ever done, but I needed to have time for my own work.  Work that was just about me.  I realized what was missing was my need to create.  Strangely enough I thought I needed photography. I had enjoyed photography in college, but  loved clay.  From that moment, I began to move toward acquiring the things needed to make art.  In a few months, I found a program that taught people how to have their own business and paid them for several months to do that so that they could become self sufficient. For many reasons my ceramic studio did not take off.  I make beautiful ceramic pieces and I still have stock. What learned through that part of the journey is that as a mother, I can't work as a ceramic artist.  I can't devote that time to ceramics and still have time to raise my boys.  What I do now is photography.  I keep learning that the small clear voice we hear in the time of quiet has the right idea. Whatever camera I have with me when I am out with boys become my creative tool.  It's not necessarily the camera, but the eye behind it that creates the image. This image is from my new phone. My blog allows me to write.  I have written since I was six years old.  I have never liked academic writing, but I love to write what is on my mind.  I thank God that I live in a time where I can have a blog. I publish my work, even if it's on a small scale and my audience is limited-it does not matter.  I am living a full life.

August Without My Sweetheart

It's August and that means we have many important dates to celebrate.  I hate being so far from the man I love especially in August, a month filled with anniversaries and birthdays.  David and I started officially dating in August, although we were close friends for a long time and many at seminary thought we were dating long before August.  We celebrate the day we became a couple.  I have never looked back. This year it marks sixteen years together.  He hasever been my companion, one I would always choose to take with me on any and all journeys difficult or otherwise.  He makes me laugh.  Perhaps that is one of the most important qualities I have looked for in a mate.  He has made me laugh in some of the most difficult times we have shared together.  Even when we fight, and yes, we do fight for we are a fiery couple, I never have thought "This is the end."  I know we are just clearing the air.  I feel safe and alive with him.  He is a strong man and a man with vision.  I would choose no other man to be with me through life.  The last day of August will mark our fourteenth wedding anniversary and I expect him to be with me.  He might miss the opening of the month, and maybe my birthday, but I hope to have him with me on that date.

Home Again

So, I am home again.  It's odd what things I have missed.  The first week back, I turned on a classic rock station and my heart sang.  I was hearing good music without government interference.  Hard to explain unless you have ever lived under "Can Con" or Canadian Content where it is the law to have a certain percentage of Canadian Content played.  I believe it's 60%.   At any rate, it hinders free expression and choice.  I have never liked it.  Here, I talk to folks in the grocery store, and my sons asks who these people are.  In Ontario, people don't do that.  I know in other parts of Canada they do.  I also know when I moved to Ontario I had to learn fast that people don't talk to each other.  They keep their own space.  It's different in the US.  I like that about The States.  I feel cozy like were are all in this together. I like the spirit of America where everyone's ideas are important even if you don't agree.  I know in recent years we have become polarized and  I hope this changes.  I hope we can remember that everyone has a right to his or her opinion and that they are not stupid, but they hold different values on different aspects to an issue.  We have had many before us who have fought and died so that we can think and live freely.  Let us remember that.  We have no right to freedom, but it is a gift given to us by our those who came before us and it is our duty to live so that our children can know the same freedom we have enjoyed.  

Letting Go

I have been steeped in purging this house and preparing to leave Hamilton for about three weeks now.  I has not been everyday, but we have put in a lot of work.  I have a friend here who loves to give to those in need and dreams of her own store of sorts where folks in need can just show up and get what they need.  Much is going to here.  I have had bags and bags of donations and recycle material go out our door for days on end.  It feels good.

I have had time to think of why it is that my living area is not what I would have hoped for.  Clearly when we moved in, we should have created a home, where we planed on leaving as soon as possible so we did not fix what we would have. Don't get me wrong.  We fixed a lot about this house when we moved in, but we never thought of it as the place we would live in for thirteen years.  That makes a difference.  My dad and I would talk about the importance of beginnings, and it would have probably been less stressful if I had heeded his wisdom.

On the other hand, I have always hung on to things and these last few weeks, I have let go of so much.  I kept hearing Fr. Thomas Hopko's words to me that even if it's a thread that binds us, we are still bound and not free.  I feel free now.  The other aspect of the letting go is something I never though of before.  I think I worried that letting go of certain material things would be letting go of me or my story.  Not so.  I have learned that the stories live in me and not in the material things I have.  In fact, I am more "me" without them.  I am happier without them. 

I am so peaceful now.  I am preparing to come home.  I want this beginning  to free me and allow me to live the life I wish, surrounded by my friends and family.  I ran away nearly twenty years ago to seek a great adventure in seminary.  I got a great one.  Even the hardships of these last seven years are gold and treasure to me.  They may have been painful, but the lessons I learned were precious and I have a clearer understanding of things.  I am so grateful for those I have met on this part of my life journey. Those people who I have met and who I love have been a refuge for me and my family these last seven years and I only regret I could have been better friends to them.  I love you, and you will always have a sweet spot in my heart for you have been kind to me when I had very little to give.  Thank you.

Freedom- Eyes Forward

The professional organizer came today.  I am so happy.  For those of you who know and love me, know that organization of a domestic space is not my strength.  This woman put me at ease and since I am a very willing participant, I think this will be one of the best things that I have ever done for myself.  I think once I start a new domestic space, I will call in help as well.  It may be one of those lifetime things that I might just need to do once a year.  I might need to have a professional come through and help me make it right.  This afternoon it's the baby clothes.  Dad died when my little one was eighteen months old, but had his first surgery when my little one was only five moths old.  I bagged them up and put them in the attic.  Today I will look at them again, and sort through them.  There are many things in this house like that.  Things that would have been best dealt with sooner, but just never were,  I move forward, not back, and I think I should forgive myself for not being perfect and allow myself peace even if I am not perfect.  That might just be a good deal and I think I should take it.

As I Begin to Pack

I've resisted writing for so long since all I am feeling and thinking about seems to me to be whining, and I hate whining.  I suppose it stands to reason that as I start to pack up this life, sift through the stuff I have that little resentments and regret would come to the surface.  Let's be clear, I never intended to live in Canada forever.  That was my first mistake.  I never created a home.  We have a place to sleep and generally live, but not a home as I would have liked to have made.  That comes from me not thinking it mattered since I was not going to live here for long let alone raise children in this house.  We picked this house for David and me to live in with a dog.  That worked. Kind of worked.  The fact that I never felt at home here, never felt right or that I fit in ever helped me.  If you call it vibrations or the culture or whatever, I never felt like I was right for the place I found myself in.  Mind you, I have always known that my home was where David was.  I have always wanted to live where he was and that has been Canada for the last thirteen years.  Now, I get to go home.  I left in 1992 for seminary with the intention to return in two years.  That did not happen.  I met David my second year and we became friends in my third year.  I love him.  Now, I get to go home and be with my people, my family and friends.  I get to return to the diocese that helped in part pay for my seminary and that feels so right.  My children get to know their family, of the water, body and heart.  I teach my children that we have three types of people in our family those that we are related to of the body, those through baptism, and those we love that come into the family.  We have many such people where we are headed and it feels to right.  I have learned much in Canada, and God has sent me people to love and share my life with.  I am grateful for each and everyone of you.  I count you as my family and I love you with my heart knowing you are gifts to me from God. Without you, I do not know how I would have fared here.  Your have been oasisis in this desert crossing, point of light in this very dark journey.  David and I have been through major life changes and not always the easiest starting with his father's death in 2004.  I see light and I want it so badly.  The trick is to not let those past hurts and wounds get in the way or tie me to them and keep me from moving forwards.  I hope this has not been whiny.  I know the treasures I will take with me is the love of friendship people along the way have shown me even when I have not been able to be a good friend in return.  Thank you.

A Few Thoughts

Felt like writing again.  Sometimes it helps me to focus and figure out what's going one.  I have started to clean out the house, and I know I will be calling on the friends who helped me with the other house to get it done.  I look around and think about what is worth taking with me.  I have had to have these thoughts before, but now I actually have to enact it.  Precious few things will make it back to the US.  Books, some clothing, and important family pieces will come with us.  What about this pink Formica table I love so dearly.  I don't think the legs come off.  It's amazing what you keep in 13 years.  I think that if there is more trouble in the world, I want to be surrounded by my family.  It's hard to eek out a life in trouble times alone.  I can't wait to be able to attend church with my sister and her family. I will get more chances to sing with her.   So much to look forward to, and so much to get done beforehand.  Onward!

Journey's End. Journey's Beginning.

Last week I wanted to write about the bitter sweetness in my heart of the process of cleaning my mother-in-law's home and Pascha.  How much I wanted to be in the church, but could not.  How each time we have lost a parent, we have lost a Pascha.  Sometime hindered by surgery or death or in this case the house and its contents. I know that the work we did was an act of love, but it was not fun.  I felt as if I was at the tomb all the time.

Going through my mother-in-law's things was a process I never ever wanted to do, but one I had to do.  People would say, "How much do you want for X?" and I would think, "Do you have a mother-in-law in your back pocket?"  Things I never would have guessed happened.  People fighting over broken things.  People wanting broken things.  People not taking some of her beautiful clothes.  I had to bag so many of them for donations.  Don't get me wrong, I know it's a beautiful thing to donate the clothes, but I was surprised I did not have a line up for them.  She kept things of her husband's.  They did not have a lovey-dovey relationship, yet no one ever really  knows what goes on in one from the outside.  I can tell from what she kept, that she truly loved him.  On the last day, we had to hurry out the door, but I said my good-byes to them both.  The first time I entered their home, my Tata said to me that I was in my home, and to treat it as mine.  I hate that I have lost them.  I know their love lives in me blah, blah blah, but I can't have coffee with them.  That is what hurts, not that they loved you, but that you can't be with them the same way.  You can't have coffee with them

On to the next stage.  I get to go home and I get to take my family with me.  I said to my husband that his dad must have been a powerful person to have his dream of having his family in the US live on after his death.  I know it's the right move.  I know I have the blessing of those who have gone before us and those living.  Now to make the dream true.  Well if I recall from my father-in-law that's going to take great effort and belief.

Musings on the Kitchen Table

Last night, Mama's kitchen table was sold and taken from it's spot.  Here she presided and provided hospitality to all who came to her home.  Here was the first stop when I came to live in Hamilton, chatting as we would for thirteen years.  Here she gave of her self in love.  Here she created a community.  Here she served.  She always served.  The tragedy is she was going to get soup for her guests when she fell. 

I thought as they were taking it away how like a Christian altar it is.  Of course it is.  No one could deny that.  Then I thought how like a side altar it was.  Side altars often get more use in the West, as they are smaller and more intimate.  My dad said Mass everyday on the side altar in Ionia, Michigan. The kitchen table was were we heard the news, and the stories that bound us together as a family.

Letting Go of Mama

Letting go of Mama is so not easy.  Tomorrow, I go and decide what goes to donations what won't be used again.  A young woman starting over will be taking some furniture away.  I know she will take care of them.  Some of what we are keeping is fine things that Mama loved.  Some, like the kneading board, are not worth much money, but were so part of Mama and what she did.  I find it hard to explain why using her things she used to cook with is so important to me, but it is.  I have this spatula from my grandma whose handle is broken and I use a rubber band to hold it together.  I would never part with that.  I remember her cooking with that and I feel close to her.  The same is true with Mama's things.  That kneading board is hand made.  It's not complicated, but I know she worked with it for her family.  I've had a conflicts with some of her friends, but as a friend of mine reminds me they too are letting go of Mama.  It's really not the broken snow blower or broken chair.  They just don't want to let go of her.  I know I don't.  I would be rather listen to her complain or give me advice for ten or twenty more years than have to sift through her things. 

Finding the Pain

I knew I hurt.  I did not have time to check it out.  I did not have time to think.  Ever since I inadvertantly took wheat and dairy out of my diet on the first day of Lent, I have been trying to figure out what is going on with me and why I hurt.  Well, I don't have joint pain and I can breathe.  I wonder how long it's been that I had not been breathing with my full capacity.  Now, I have narrowed the next pain to lower back and neck pain.  It's no wonder I took a stress quiz this morning and tested out at 348.  After 300, the quiz makers stated, you would expect real heath concerns unless one removes the stressers. Oh gee, why didn't I think of that?  I will be taking myself to a chiropractor and MD to check it out.  I know my stress lives in my neck and lower back.  I did not expect to be looking at this stuff.  I expected to move through it to the next stage.  Looks like I was mistaken.   What a Lent this has been!  Sometimes, I feel like I'm clutching at something to steady myself.  Today, I have no soft words.  I feel a lot of pain.

Fasting and Love

I look forward to Lent,  the time the Church sets aside for us to fast and pracise the Gospel more intently. Fasting is not about losing weight, feeling good and getting healthy.  It is not about how hard or strict you are with the prescribed fast.  We fast to let go of what binds us and turn toward Life, Love, Truth.  We do this through fasting, prayer and alms giving.  We do this by letting go of our self centered existence and loving those around us.  My dear friend in Seminary was translating Maximos the Confessor. (She found out why people don`t like to do that.  I hear his Greek is very complicated.)  She came into my room one day and told me that Maximos the Confessor said that the Love a person has for God is the same Love a person has for his brother.  She was blown away by this.  I have become blown away by this as the years go by.  If we do not love our brother, how can we say we love our God?  How can we say that we love God, but allow his child to go naked? Even the monk sitting in his cell does not pray for himself, but for the whole world.  Prayer is an act of love. We are not meant to be solitary beings.  We are connected to those in our community even if we don't like it.  Lent gives us the chance to remind ourselves of what we are not doing for the sake of the Gospel and lets us act accordingly.  Fasting helps to remind us of the necessary thing - to love.  Let us let go of our selfcenteredness, love our brother and live as we are meant to live. Let us love.

Update and Such

I went to the doctor today.  She is a fine doctor and I trust her.  She is of the opinion that my symptoms might be more related to dairy than wheat.  I could have a blood test for celiac disease, but the doctor is of the opinion that if it is wheat, the test would not be able to confirm it since it tests for symptoms relating to the stomach, which I don't have.  It it Lent, so really, I am going to be eliminating wheat.  I will have testing for environmental allergies on June first.  Stay tuned. 

Yesterday, I drove back to Canada with a sick child and dog.  I lost count on the times my little one threw-up, but we made it back.  At one point I stopped for paper towels and hand sanitizer.  I begged for a trash bag from the young man at the gas bar.  The towels made a nice "nest" for the future times he was sick, and it made for faster clean up.  I think I shall always travel with paper towels and a trash bad.  My dog will not go on long trips again unless he has drugs.

Wheat Allergy

I'm sad.  I have noticed that I might and probably am allergic to wheat.  I have a reaction to even a small amount.  On my drive to see my mom, I noticed that I was so sleepy.  Then I noticed that my nose was stuffy and that my lungs were not taking in as much breath as they should.  I have suspected this for a week, but wheat is in everything and I don't know what to do.  When I get back, I will go see my doctor and keep antihistamines with me at all times.  My joints don't hurt since I have begun to rid myself of wheat.  Twenty four years ago, I had to learn what foods had refined sugar by reading labels.  The process of reading everything was so long and difficult, but in the end I learned what I could and could not eat.  It's second nature to me now. For those who don't know me well, sugar makes me sick.  I get head aches and my stomach hurts.  It's not pleasant.  I find myself whining these days:   "Wheat is in everything!!!!!!",  "Why me?!",  "Why Wheat?!", "It's not fair".  On the other hand, I do like to breathe and I do like to move.  (Grump, grump, grump)  I am working my way to acceptance soon.  I just don't want it to be true.  I behave as though it is, and maybe I can get to true acceptance sooner.

Thoughts on Rhetoric

I have a sense that we have forgotten how to speak to one another and I am so saddened by it.  I hear rhetoric that just makes me so sad.  When I was a child I was always taught to state my position clearly without resorting to straw men arguments or foul language.  Quite frankly, I think we have lost the idea of foul language, and that makes me weep.  Sure, I would say that expletives happen and even have a correct context in which to be used, but I believe the words we use form us and our minds.  Words are creative and powerful things that bring to life worlds and cultures.  I have been taught that from my mother's knee. The words you use show who you are.  I teach my boys that.  People will judge you on how you speak and write.  Be clear.  How have we come to use angry words, foul words to each other in hopes of what?  To change some one's mind?!?!  I do not respond to that very well.  In fact, I am right turned off.  I am attracted to, and always have been, well thought out witty arguments.  I like them pithy and funny.  I like an argument to be given in it's essence.  Every group of humans have a collection of people you might not want to have on their side, but too bad. The other side, are not Nazi's.  Everyone thinks the other side are filled with goose stepping Nazi's. They aren't.  My parents would call that making a straw man.  You don't go deep enough into the other perspective if you easily dismiss their point of view. In fact, my grandfather would say that in an argument you should be able to reach one point that you both agree on, and then work your way from that point. My father would say, "A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still."  You can't change some one's mind by yelling or name calling. That just puts the person on the defensive.  You can't work with that.  The most powerful life changing people in the world were nonviolent, peaceful, and defiant. We are all the same, you and I even if we don't like it.  Can't escape that.  It's just one of those things.  Peace to you all.  Be kind out there.  Speak the truth.  Love deeply.

Christ is Risen

These are Mama's Eggs from 2009

The Church is wise to lead us into Great Lent gently.  In the West, I always thought it was so abrupt, stark.  In the East, we enter slowly, preparing our selves for The Fast weeks before hand by dietary changes and through hymns and prayers.  By the time we get to the beginning of Great Lent, we all know what is coming and we have thought about what we are going to do to strengthen our love of God and our brother.  We enter Great Lent with Forgiveness Sunday Vespers.  I love this service.  At the close of the service the priest begins the ritual of forgiving.  Each of us goes to our brothers in Christ (priest included) and asks each for forgiveness.  The Orthodox have what might be explained as the butterfly effect of view of sin.  I might offend someone personally, but that does not encompass all of sin.  I might consume more than what I need, and make it more difficult for my brother to get what he needs. My actions pollute the world.  This is why we don't say, "If I have offended you, forgive me."  We say, "Forgive me a sinner."  We even are to think of ourselves as The Sinner.  This is what attracted me to the Church.  I am not to judge anyone because I have not loved my brother as Christ loves us.  How can I judge anyone?  I can't even love my own brother.  So as not to leave us in despair , we sing the Pascal Cannon as a telos. I don't like to use Greek, but target and goal are not what I want to say.  Pascha is the already, but not yet.  It is the point to which we look for hope.  It is the end and the beginning.  It is our point of departure and our destination.  At Seminary, my friend and I would stay to almost the end singing the Cannon because we both loved to sing those hymns and then we would go around the church together asking for forgiveness.  The final words of the service are, "Christ is risen!"  The church reminds us of the Light of the Resurrection even as we enter the race of Lent.  In the services of Great Lent we double the Alleluias.We are given joy to strengthen us.   She is so wise to us, comforts us and nurtures us.  I wish all a good and fruitful Lent.  Chris is risen!

Sorting Through Mama's House

I've been going through my mother-in-law's house.  I have always called her Mama.  Every time I pick up her things I remember that she is not here.  I find unusual objects like the heart shaped melon baller and say. "Oh, Mama what were you thinking?"  She just bought new dishes just before she went into the hospital.  She packed up her old ones for me, but died before she could tell me.  There were more important things to talk about at the time, and her plates, which would normally be a great topic of discussion, were never mentioned.  She had a set of dishes just for outdoor use which she never used. I have never seen them before  I am giving them to a dear friend of mine to  spread her love around a bit.  I found her children's baptismal garments, all tucked away in a box with a graphic dating from the 1960s of the Theotokos and tied with a blue bow.  Mama had dolls.  She never struck me as a doll type woman, but she had dolls in her bedroom and I know she loved them.  She kept one of Tata's suits  and a pair dress shoes in her closet.  In the basement I she kept his lunch box.  That made me cry.  There appears to be jewelry missing.  I hate that.  It makes me ill.  The worst part is walking in her door, smelling her scent and knowing she won't be there.  We did not have a close friendship, but we loved each other very much.  I can't believe I have to raise my boys without her. When she died she had four frozen chickens to make chicken soup for the boys.  They loved her so much, and I know she was crazy about them.  It seems so cruel.  Soon we must pack what we want, sell or donate the rest and leave that house behind.  We take her love with us.  That is the hard part of death, the losing of the person physically.  We are physical creatures and we know each other through our senses. It's such a shock to lose that connection.  I don't recommend it, but that is the way of things.  We must forge on and live and part of living right now for me is grieving her.  Love you, Mama!

My Love of the Cowboy

I have been thinking and wondering why I don't have the peace that seems to intrude on my mind, but not stay as long as I would like.  Then it hit me.  I am not trusting.  That is not a surprise to me.  I have hope, but trust sometimes elludes me.  Maybe it's because I am an American and I just want cowboy it out.  I love the image of the cowboy and I think it really embodies many of the American ideals: self reliance, wide open spaces, freedom in thought, life on our own terms, hard working, life in extreme, etc.  I love the cowboy image, but he's not great trusting everything is going to work out just fine unless he does his work.  Now, there is a fine line between trusting in things being just fine and waiting to be rescued.  Maybe here is where I have gone wrong.    Perhaps, I have not looked deeper at him.  He must rely on nature and trust that he can get his herd to market.  He must believe otherwise or why would he even try?  It's a dangerous life. There are not too many things that he can be sure of, yet he believes he can get his cattle where they need to go. I find myself in a similar situation.  I am not on the range, but I have this crazy plan to move my family to another country.  I believe it is very possible and I want to do it with all my heart.  Sometimes, however, I feel like I am on the open plain in a down pour. My father once told me that all I had to do was what was in front of me.  Maybe that is true.  Maybe first things are first.  Maybe this crazy plan will work out it if I trust that the plan is a good one and remember why we have made this decision.

Thoughts

Silence intruding in the cacophony of my heart, causes me to yearn for simple quiet.  A little light peeking in.  Looking forward.  Lent seeping in.  Slowly, slowly I realize that I am made for peace, but this I find myself not in peaceful times.  Standing up, I want to sleep.  I look where I am supposed to be.  I am where I am supposed to be, but I find little comfort.  Seeking my path, but find it is not just my path, but the path I must travel with my beloveds. That is my comfort.  Peace will find me.  Love I already have.

Whole

Setting my face toward my goal.  This works best and easiest when the goal is done with your whole heart.  I whole hearted want to go back home.  In 1992, I left home for New York and Seminary.  I loved New York and when I graduated I wanted to stay and stay I did.  I fell in love and married my sweet man.  We moved to Canada and had two beautiful children, but now I feel the draw homeward.  I know it is right and good.  I am done with that adventure and am ready for the next one back home.  My heart wants it so much.  I want to live where my life is. I want the two haves of my heart together for once. All these years I have felt pulled in two directions and I am done with that.  I want to be centered and live forward.  I long to be whole.  I want to spend holidays with people I love without having to drive twelve hours. I want a church where I can pray with my sister.  I want my children to have a sense of their whole family.  I want to work and feel free.  I want to know that the government has not told the radio stations how much music to play from domestic artists.  I want freedom of thought and voice.  I want freedom of being who I am and where my people came from.  I want my children to love both their Canadian  and American Heritage.  I want to be home.

Light in Darkness

It's funny to me how I can be so full of angst about something, then I say it and the anxiety disappears.  Like shining a light in the darkness.  I have small boys.  My younger one would wake up screaming and have to sleep next to me until I figured out that the darkness was bothering him.  That day I bought flashlights.  I had to make a rule about them, because he is a small child.  He could only use it at night when I was not around. The screaming stopped.  I love that.  I feel so much more free having said what it was that I wanted to do for and with my family.  I have been able to start to clean and get ready because of it, and I am not so anxious.  I have work, lots of work, and if I keep working it will all come together.

I had a vision in the trees once.

What Next

I am feeling out off sorts.  I suppose this is to be expected.  I have been through so much in the last few years that I find I have lost my bearings for the moment.  I am feeling in limbo between what I thought I was going to do with my life, and what I am deciding to do next.  In the next few months, I will have to choose what I take with me to the next stage: what things are worth the effort to move to another country and what things get left behind.  My husband and I are planning on moving to The States.  I long to go back home, and my mother is not well.  We both feel that Mom and the kids deserve to spend lots of time together, and quite frankly, I miss home. What remains now is the foot work and the planning.  I do not wish to take loads of things with us, but we have family stuff that we need to keep.  These things belong to the future, and I have to be careful of what we take with us.  I have never been very good at sorting through things and letting go of them, but that is what I am about to do.  As for my art and my work as an artist, I will be using the blog and my photography.  I might never make it to the big leagues as an artist, but I know I need to make art for my own health.

Already

Grey skies in winter make me feel still and look inwardly.  Today, the Triodion opens and Lent starts to creep into our lives.  I love that.  I am so grateful for Lent because it opens the door of my heart which somehow Summer fun and Christmas festivities close, or rather becomes clogged with the things that are not ssential.  The Church cycle is so wise in that it reflects the natural cycle.  Somehow, I am most ready to listen in the still of winter and look for the new life of Spring and Pascha.  One is the door to the other.  Like the rooster that shows the morning, there is no time between the crowing of the morning and the morning.  The herald is the sign that it is already.