When days off, aren't.

B has been ill and in increasing pain for a long time, and finally saw a doctor last week. Her doctor called in a specialist-- a gynecologic oncologist, and I believe the only one in the state-- who was able to see her on Tuesday. Based on tests done that day, he scheduled surgery for her three days later-- this morning. B is a breast cancer survivor of many years' standing, so she is well aware of what this sort of... sudden motivation on the part of the medical establishment is likely to mean. The prayer chain at church kicked into high gear.

My assistant drove her up to the medical center in Billings, and I met them there. Her husband, S, has been working in North Dakota on a job; he drove most of the night to get here, and made it to the hospital just before they took her up to surgery. We prayed together, and I anointed her; then she was whisked away, and we found S a sofa where he could catch a few hours' sleep while the doc did his thing.

Three hours later, the doc came out-- and thankfully, blessedly, everything was benign!

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.

The joy of socks

Remember back during March Madness, when I started a new adventure in knitting? Fancy yarn on multiple oversized toothpicks double point needles?

Behold!

Not just one, mind you, but a full and complete pair.

Note that, with a little planning, the stripes even lined up! You have no idea how this pleases my OCD soul.

A woman's thought for the day

... courtesy of the Crimson Rambler:

You should live so that whenever your feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan says, "Oh $h**, she's awake."

"The faith once delivered to all the saints"

That phrase-- a quote (depending on your preferred translation) from the book of Jude, has been tossed around a lot in the Current Unpleasantness in the Episcopal Church by some who believe that we are headed down the road to perdition. It gets used-- and misued!-- with such frequency that, quite honestly, I'm thoroughly sick of it. I've begun to flinch whenever I hear those words.

But this morning I read a wonderful response to that phenomenon. It is reprinted over at Desert's Child. Do yourself a favor, and go read it all.

The conclusion addresses the leadership of the diocese of Fort Worth; but it says beautifully what I wish the whole church could hear:

Our diocesan leadership’s resistance to many things going on today in the Episcopal Church is not only their indisputable right, it’s entirely traditional: Christians have from the very beginning had to figure things out for themselves. Jesus left us only the most basic—though entirely sufficient—tools to work with: His love, the Holy Spirit, a mystical sacramental bond with him in baptism and the eucharist. All the rest we have to piece together as experience and circumstance teach us, and we have never all sung in unison. Never. Our leaders in Fort Worth err in supposing and saying we ever did, and their nostalgic formula is as illusory now as it was when Jude used it. And thank God for that! Is revelation closed? Is the church finished? Are all the answers in? The notion of a neatly defined, readily available packaged and bottled Christianity, one size fits all, is foreign to this history. That doesn’t mean we can play fast and loose with our religion, and thank God for the conservatives in the Episcopal Church who ask enthusiasts hard questions and avoid doing anything rashly. It does mean we dare not—cannot, indeed—preclude the movement of the Holy Spirit in the church to deepen our understanding of God and of Jesus and our own place and work in the spread of the Kingdom on earth. The faith of God in Christ has been given to the saints, is being given to the saints today, will be vouchsafed to future saints until that Kingdom comes.

Our job is not to protect it; God requires no protection. Our job is to be open to it, to do our best to understand it, and to work with those who are with us—and those who are against us—and trust God to take care of the tares among the wheat.

Amen.

RevGal Friday Five: Summer in the City

From Singing Owl...

Think summer... are you there? Below you will find five words or phrases. Tell us the first thing you think of on reading each one. Your response might be simply another word, or it might be a sentence, a poem, a memory, a recipe, or a story. You get the idea:

1. Rooftop - When our eldest was very young we lived in Illinois, in a small 2-story house. We discovered that we were within visual range of several Fourth of July fireworks displays-- provided we crawled out the master bedroom window and perched on the garage roof to watch them. My husband was not fond of this practice-- heights make him distinctly uncomfortable-- but Daughter and I loved it. She still talks about that as a fond memory. I do, too. (^_^)

2. Gritty - My spiffy new exfoliant hand scrub, part of the Satin Hands collection of goodies I received as a gift from The Lovely Wife. I adore this stuff.

3. Hot Town - The feeling of August in downtown Chicago, amid the baking concrete jungle, compounded with Great Lakes humidity... there are things I miss about "back home, " but that ain't anywhere among 'em.

4. Night - Fireflies. I love their little glowing phosphorescent backsides. Seems as though I remember chasing hundreds of them in my childhood... that were never missed, because of the thousands that swarmed each night.

5. Dance - One summer we were visiting my in-laws in southern Indiana, and a friend of my husband's invited us to go along with him to a barn dance. It really was-- way out on somebody's farm, with a local caller, square dancing and clogging under the stars. This wasn't the sort of "formal" square dancing that some folks do, with costumes and petticoats in abundance. It was just a bunch of neighbors getting together for something to do on a Friday night-- and though I've attended a boatload of more sophisticated events over the years, it was one of the best times I've ever had.

Neighbors

This is about a month old; but if you haven't seen it yet... watch it. They may call it "sportsmanship," and it is, in the best sense of the word. But I'd also say that this is what loving your neighbor looks like.

CREDO

That's where I was last week: a conference/directed retreat/course thingy (I'm not sure which is most accurate; there are elements of each), sponsored by our national Church Pension folks. Eight days (counting travel time) of prayer, relaxation, conversation and discernment in four major areas (physical, financial, vocational and spiritual) affecting one's life and health. They hold these several times a year, at various locations around the country.

The session I attended was at The Bishop's Ranch, the Diocese of California's retreat and conference center just outside of Healdsburg. It's a lovely place, nestled in the middle of wine country, with comfortable facilities and beautiful scenery. It also has some moderately difficult hiking trails to help work off the seriously good cooking they offered.

Lots of preparation went into this time. Surveys and assessments (done by the participants and others) and a thorough physical exam, among other things.

It was hard for me to take such a concentrated block of time away, and I grumbled about all the prep work to boot: don't they realize that some of us work for a living? But I'm grateful I made the choice to do it. I had time to sift through my life as a priest-- time that I normally don't have, and am not good about taking. I was reminded that there are a few things I actually do right, now and again; and I had some help in considering changes to make, to improve in areas that challenge me. And perhaps best of all, there was the gift of liturgy in which I was involved only as participant-- focused prayer and worship that I did not have to plan or arrange or lead or critique. I'd almost forgotten what that feels like.

Oh, and there was play time, too! With clergy from all over everywhere. How great to meet folks that I wouldn't know, otherwise. To learn that some new friends are full of infectious joy-- I laughed myself silly, more than once!-- while others are perfect hiking partners, because they go at their own pace and leave me to go at mine, in comfortable silence.

I am re-entering my real life, and beginning to implement some of the goals I set for myself, and for this ministry, as part of the process. Only time will tell how it will all pan out. However, another great thing about this is that they offer a number of tools and aids to support and continue the discernment and work as time goes on.

One reminder I was given was how how good my body feels when I take the time to make it work. So I'm off to see about that. Looks like a great day for a bike ride!

Now I know where the grocery bill is going.

We just bought The Boy new sneakers for the summer.

Size 10.