And besides all that

I love her more than life itself...Bern, I mean. What she means to me increases exponentially every day.

I've never told her this--perhaps I should, though it might frighten her--she has become 'my life' in so many ways.

It has not always been this way. But it is now. I am 67 and she is 64 and we're on at least our 5th marriage, and this is the one I value best of all.

Soon I'll stop typing and take Bela out for his last pee of the day and then join her in the bed we've shared for over four decades and realize how blessed I am to have her in my life.

Maybe I'll tell her that and maybe I won't. Timing is everything.

And it is true, true beyond True...Well, either you know or you don't. Either you have a relationship, a love that defines your life or you don't. And there is no value in whatever you have. It's just I have such a relationship. And I count myself blessed beyond belief. I did nothing to deserve this. It isn't because I crossed some t's and dotted some i's, it is just that I am blessed without cause or purpose. In fact, in the real world, I made more mistakes than anyone should ever make. So. that's all it is. A glorious accident, a wondrous happenstance, something the cosmos didn't have in mind but happened anyway.

Like that.

Simply like that.

 And I am more blessed, lucky, fortunate, astonishingly privileged than anyone has a right to be.

Lucky, blessed me.

Just like that. And thanks be to all the gods that be for my life turning out 'just like that'.

Really.

Why don't I appreciate that more?

One last thing I don't appreciate enough

Bern.

My wife of 43 years.

My life in many ways.

Bern does almost everything. I do these things: take the dog for his morning walk (and on Monday for his walk on the Canal--Bern takes him those other six days) his 'little walk' at 5 or so and his last pee after 10 pm, I clean the litter box for Lukie, I take out the trash and recycling on Tues and bring the bins back on Wednesday, I cook dinner 4 out of every 7 days. Besides doing my own laundry, that's all I do.

Bern does everything else. Cleans the house, mows the lawn with her hand mower, pays the bills every Monday (which is why I do the Canal walk that day), does the laundry for everything but my clothes, cooks dinner at least 3 days a week, manages the garden, keeps everything where it should be.

I could help her with all that but, sadly, I'm not capable of doing any of that as well as she does. It's just the truth. So she does all that.

My life wouldn't work without Bern. Not at all.

And I know that.

So, I should appreciate her more. And I vow to do that. I do.

Who in your life don't you appreciate enough? Not like you  have to tell them, just appreciate them more, that's all. Ponder that, if you will.....

More things I don't appreciate enough

As I grow old ('should I wear my trousers rolled, or eat a peach?') I'm coming to notice things I don't appreciate enough. Here's some more:

*maple syrup--living in the part of the country where it comes from, I haven't been appreciative enough of maple syrup. I made salmon tonight (my friend Bea has a salmon aversion, poor her) that was marinated in 1/4 cup of maple syrup, two teaspoons of soy sauce, a clove of garlic chopped, garlic salt and black pepper and cooked at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. To die for...salmon and maple syrup, how odd is that? And it worked...never mind pancakes and waffles....

*summer corn--had corn tonight too, no way to cook it wrong. Wrapped the ears in paper towels after wetting it and microwaves for 2 minutes. Astonishing! How sweet and good corn is. I would have grilled both the salmon and corn but it's raining hard in Connecticut.

*paper clips--I was working on something this week that involved various writings of more than a page, trying to find the right order. I needed paper clips and didn't have any. Went out yesterday and got 45 big ones, vinyl-coated in multiple bright colors. I feel better already.

*floor pads for my car--I had almost ground through the carpet on the driver's side after grinding through the floor pad. So I took Bern's Discover card and went to a Auto supply place and bought new, thick rubber ones for $31.17. Bern'll get some % of that back one day from Discover and my front seat floors are thickly covered and smell of new rubber.

*creatures--we have three: a bad Puli dog, an annoying Maine Coon Cat and a parakeet that brings constant song into our lives. She's listening to SHU public radio that actually plays classical music most of the day and making wondrous music. I actually love Luke the cat more than Bern does and she's always been the cat person and Bern loves the bad dog Bela more than I do and I've always been the dog person. Jung was right--as we age we move toward our shadows and embrace them.

*children--we have two and I do not appreciate enough how wondrous they are. Josh is a big-time lawyer in Baltimore and Mimi is the Development Officer for Jacob's Pillow in MA and lives half time in Brooklyn with her fiancee, Tim, who we love. Josh and Cathy and our three granddaughter will be coming for the 4th. I DO appreciate our granddaughters constantly and greatly, but I need to appreciate our children more and more. No drug problems, good grades, no major arrests, remarkable adults from wonderful children. I don't give enough thanks for how they turned out so brilliantly, better than I could have expected. God, I love them, and should celebrate that more.

*friends--I take them for granted because I assume I'm likeable and should have friends. But the truth is, they make my life so much richer, purer, more meaningful, magic that I should tell them so and appreciate them more, much more, than I do. I vow to do that, more and more.

Ponder, if you will, what you don't appreciate enough about your life. It truly is life-giving to do that, I promise you. Really.

Really.

Anawalt's Facebook Page

My friend Charles sent me a link to Anawalt, West Virginia's Face book page. Do even dying towns now have Face book pages? I'm not on Face book but I could go back to it from Charles' link, which I might just do when I finish writing this.

I was looking at people I didn't know but then there was a picture of Anawalt's Boy Scout Troop from what must have been 1959 or 1960, cause there I was in the front row between Billy Bridgeman and Kyle Parks, my two best boyhood friends. I stared at the picture for a long time and even made Bern come and look at it.

There were 30 boys in the picture and I could name all but three of them. (People have recently told me I have a remarkable memory--truth is, I often can't remember what I had for dinner the night before but I could remember the names of all those boys and the Scout Leader, Jimmy Newsome.)

Actually I can remember what I had for dinner last night: some flounder I broiled with a sauce of mushrooms, butter, scallions, white wine, dill flakes, fresh parsley and capers that I made, along with steamed green cauliflower and sliced baby cucumbers I splashed with vinegar and oil. It was tasty.

I don't know where Billy Bridgeman is but because of Charles and my old friend Mike Miano, I know that Kyle has been dead for a good decade. I'm sure if I put Billy Bridgeman's name out there someone more adroit with computers than I am will find him for me. Billy is the one I wouldn't have been surprised to discover was dead. Billy was a bit of a rogue while Kyle was the straightest of Straight Arrows. Billy dead from a knife fight or a drug overdose wouldn't have shocked me at all. But Kyle, military pilot and fitness nut dying at 56 from a heart attack--that was devastating to me.

Truth is, I don't know where any of those 30 + people is except Fred Rash, because one of the other pictures was of Fred--white haired and bearded like me--at an Anawalt picnic. He had on a hat proclaiming he was a veteran--Viet Nam surely--and look a bit older than I think I look...but whose to know if the way I look to me is accurate.

OK, I'm going back to that Face book page to find out some more....

I watch her in the garden

I sit on the deck, pretending to read,
but I'm really watching Bern in the yard,
working. Hours each day she bend, kneels, sits,
doing things I scarcely understand at all.
Sometimes I feel a tiny bit guilty:
her working so hard, me reading, watching
her work. But then I remember that I
could never do whatever she's doing.
So I watch--admiring all that she does
without understanding it, yet loving
how intense and focused she always is.
If I call to her it takes two, three calls
to rouse her from her attention to dirt,
plants, flowers, the implements she works with.

There is something almost spiritual
in her attention to the task at hand.

I envy her that: the zen of it all.

Those who are close to the rich fragrant earth
are closest of us all to deep-down Life.

Pearl...Rest in Peace...

My cousin, Pearl Rich Perkins died yesterday with her three children around her.

I knew Pearl probably before her husband, Bradley Perkins. did. She lived in Pageton, in the last house before the house of J.D. Poe, my friend, and his family lived in the 'big house'. Her father was Louie Rich (shorted from Ricchelli or something like that because Italians did that back then).

Pearl was bright, funny, full of life. After Bradley died a decade or so ago, she had some health problems and then suffered from early onset Alzheimer's for the last years of her life.

Living in the moment, as I mostly do, is a problem when it comes to keeping up with the past.

We pass close by where Pearl has been for years every September on the way to the beach in North Carolina. We could have stopped some of those years and said 'hello'. And we didn't.

I regret that now. Pearl was dear to me but I've spent years without seeing her. And now she is dead and there is nowhere to stop on the way to the beach.

Ponder this (I will!) who in your past do you want to be in touch with before it's too late?

I love you, Pearl. You deserved better from me.

Sermon from long ago....

(here's a sermon I preached over a decade ago I wanted to share....)

The “good” shepherd (5/11/03)

When I was a child, my Uncle Russell managed The Union Theatre in Anawalt, West Virginia—the little town where I grew up. So I got to see most every movie that came to town. The Union Theatre got mostly cowboy movies. Lots of cowboy movies, it seemed to me, were about the bad blood between cattle ranchers and sheep ranchers.

In those movies, the cattle ranchers were always noble, upstanding, law-abiding citizens who lived in decent, well-kept ranch houses and did their best to “do the right thing.” Sheep ranchers, on the other hand, were usually disreputable, desperate, land-grabbing rogues whose only purpose seemed to be breaking the law and annoying the cattle ranchers.

The cattle ranchers always had pressed shirts and little string ties and shiny, leather boots. The sheep ranchers were dirty and unshaven and were constantly casting lascivious looks at the cattle ranchers beautiful girlfriends.

So, in Sunday School, I had some problems identifying with Jesus as the Good Shepherd. In the little colored pictures we got of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, he looked more like a cattle rancher than a sheep rancher. His flowing white and crimson robes were spotless and his hair and beard were neat and perfectly groomed. The truth was, if it hadn’t been for the beard, Jesus would have looked more like a cattle rancher’s beautiful girlfriend than anything else.

I just didn’t get it….

***

Shepherds are romanticized these days. That’s probably because most of us have never met a shepherd. We tend to think of shepherds as humble, gentle, dedicated, somewhat dreamy characters who rescue sheep and commune with nature. More often than not, we think of shepherds as being musical folks—playing little flutes to their sheep—wearing sandals and soft, hand made clothing.

The truth is, shepherds in Jesus’ day were much more like sheep ranchers than cattle ranchers. According to Alan Culpepper, a well-respected New Testament scholar, “shepherding was a despised occupation at the time.” Though we have a rather romantic view of shepherds, Culpepper goes on to say, “…in the first century, shepherds were scorned as shiftless, dishonest people who grazed their flocks on other people’s land.” Another scholar, John Pilch, points out in his book The Cultural World of Jesus that shepherds were considered “unclean” by observant Jews of the day because of their violation of property rights and their neglect of their families by being away from home for long periods of time.

On the other hand, most people I know don’t think very highly of sheep. Sheep are thought of as cowardly, dumb and stubborn all at once. Calling someone “sheepish” usually means they are too timid and fearful to stand up for themselves. “Wool gathering” is a waste of time. Comparing people to “sheep” implies they will mindlessly follow the leader and not think for themselves. And sheep are so uninteresting and boring counting them is almost guaranteed to put you to sleep.

However, in first century Palestine, sheep symbolized something remarkably different than they symbolize for us. The highest virtue in the Mediterranean world of Jesus was honor. “Honor” was so valued that it was vital to maintain it even to the point of death. An honorable person in that culture would face death in silence, without complaint. John Pilch, again, writes that “while being shorn or even prepared for slaughter, the sheep remains silent and does not cry. This is how Isaiah describes the ideal servant of the Lord: ‘like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, the servant of Yahweh does not open his mouth.’’ “

Sheep came to be the animals that most clearly symbolized “honor” in Jesus’ world. In fact, it was the silent, suffering servant of Isaiah—the figure so like a sheep—that came to be identified with Jesus in the early Church. Jesus is, after all, “the lamb of God.”

***

The 4^th Sunday of Easter every year is “Good Shepherd Sunday”. I’ve pretty much run out of things to say about shepherds and sheep. And since I don’t know any shepherds or sheep, I don’t get any new material year to year. The cowboy movie image is new this year—but that was scraping the bottom of the barrel, believe me. I should probably stop now, move on to the Nicene Creed and cut my losses….

But there is something in today’s gospel to wrestle with before we do that. Listen: I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.

I don’t talk much about “evangelism”. I don’t talk much about inviting those who “do not belong to this fold” to join our community. And since I don’t have anything new to say about sheep and shepherds, this is perhaps the time to talk about “evangelism.”

A few years ago, there was a survey by the Gallop Poll people that revealed that Episcopalians tend to invite someone to church every nine years.

That’s a remarkable statistic. I’ll give you a moment to consider that and see how you fit into the Gallop Poll.

I’m a part of a group called The Mastery Foundation. I went to one of the Mastery Foundation’s workshops for people who minister in 1987. Since then I’ve been active with the Mastery Foundation. I now lead the workshop I attended 16 years ago and I’m one of the 12 members of the Mastery Foundation’s Board of Directors.

For 16 years I’ve heard about what the Mastery Foundation calls “enrollment”. And until last week I didn’t “get” what enrollment means. I thought it meant “asking people to take four days and pay nearly $500 to do the workshop.” And I’ve been hesitant for the most part to do that. I hate to “ask people to do things.” I feel like I’m imposing, like they’ll think I’m some kind of fanatic, like I’ll be implying something’s missing from their life.

But just last week, at a workshop I was helping to lead in Maryland, one of the other leaders said this: Enrollment is an invitation that enables someone to discover the full possibility and vitality and commitment of their life.

All that time—16 years—I’ve thought “enrollment” was about getting people to “enroll” in the workshop. Instead, I now realize, “enrollment” means “enrolling” people in the fullness of their own lives.

What a difference that makes. And it only took me 16 years to understand it! That’s seven more years than it takes the average Episcopalian to invite someone to church!

John Wesley—the Anglican priest whose followers formed the Methodist Church—used to ask people: HOW DOES IT GO WITH YOUR SOUL?

Evangelism isn’t about getting people to come to St. John’s and become Episcopalians. Evangelism is about “enrolling” people in the health of their soul and the fullness of their lives. And we are not only “called” to do that—it is what God intends us to do.

At the first meeting of each of the Discernment Groups we’ve been creating for over a year now, we ask people four questions as their homework. The fourth question is this: “how responsible are you willing to be for the experience and well being of the others?”

That’s the question I want to leave you with—for your home-work and your SOUL-work this week. HOW RESPONSIBLE ARE YOU WILLING TO BE FOR THE FULLNESS OF THE LIVES OF OTHERS? Are you willing to ask someone this week—in whatever way make sense to you—“how goes it with your soul?” Are you willing to be open and concerned and attentive to those who are not of this fold? Whether you invite anyone to church or not, are you willing to invite someone to a deeper relationship with you and with God? Are you willing to let someone know that God loves them in a way that can make their lives more abundant, more wondrous, more real?

I’ll be asking myself all that this week. I’ll be wresting with that along with you. I speak to you of God’s love for us. But do I speak to others, outside this fold?

And will I?