A blessing on Inauguration Day

 

On Inauguration Day - a message from 60,000 feet

Hi Church-

i am on my way home to you from a journey spanning 5000 years of history, having witnessed God’s hand in all of it- through the rise and fall of empires, loss and regain of technologies and knowledge, rerouting of rivers and quaking of mountains, civilizations built and forgotten, ancient stories of human might, evil, kindness, ingenuity, apathy and faith, with ripples into our own lives, imaginations and understandings of the world.

I stood where tradition says Moses was pulled from the Nile by the Pharaoh’s daughter, touched the stone of a room where the refugees Mary, Joseph and young Jesus lived for three months of their four year journey into Egypt after saying goodbye to the visiting Magi and being warned in a dream of Herod’s wrath, and saw the 3500 year old mummy of (possibly) Joseph, buried among the Pharaohs after God saved Egypt and the surrounding nations from famine through his dreams and courage. 

We learned of ancient calendars with 36 ten day weeks and annual five day end of year celebrations, shaped around three annual seasons based on soil: Inundation-Nile flooding, Planting and Harvesting, and ate dinner serenaded by residual carols amidst remaining decorations from Christmas which, in that part of the world, is not December 25, but January 7. 

All this to say - human experience ebbs and flows, shapes and reshapes. 

What seems unquestionably the way things are is not the way they always have been or will be, or even may be elsewhere right at this moment.
But  in all things, God is still God.
In all things humans are still human.
The story we belong to is a long one, and it's deep and sure.  
And, as Lisa reminds us in the sermon below, we participate by loving one another and watching for God's invitations in ordinary life. 

In love, hope and gratitude to be in this together with you,
Kara

 

Prayer for Today

God, as our county's leadership once again shifts
from one administration to the next,
pause us here
within the scope of history and future,
to receive your presence
with us now.

Thank you for the ways healing and world-shaping
comes through ordinary people,
in everyday ways:
the flower planters and soul tenders, 
  the music makers and bread bakers,
  the heart holders and art creators, 
  the food growers and poem weavers, 
 the child raisers and story cherishers, 
 the learners and leaders, 
the witnesses and the wise,
young and old, 
 the neighbors who neighbor each other, 
every day, come what may.

God-with-us, Love Incarnate,
may we trust in you.
Keep us open-hearted, brave and kind,
with deep roots and a wide horizon,
able to see this world and all in it,
as your beloved,
and to live that way,
which is to say:
In all things may we remain
guided by your Spirit,
grounded in your love,
and buoyed by Christ's joy. 

Amen

Away and home again (sort-of)

It has been a few weeks since I have posted.  The kids and I just returned from 16 days in New Zealand and Australia.  (We were all there, but just the kids and I returned - Andy will be back in a week).  And the return journey was a drawn-out doozie; I wish I would've taken before and after pictures - we looked like a trio of surly, hungover criminals slinking through US Customs.

But I have things to say, I think, things to process and share about our time there - about traveling with kids, about Christchurch and Christ's Church, about time alone with family out of normal context (but never alone by yourself), and what surprising sacred space sightseeing opens up within and between us.  I have lots burbling, I think.

But at the moment I am a foggy mess.  My edges are all blurry I can't latch onto thoughts.  (Not to mention trying to feed myself and the kids when we want breakfast in the middle of the day and dinner in the middle of the night).  So the post-travel post(s) will have to wait a few days.  (At least until all the bubble-wrapped souvenirs are off the dining room table and we all three can sleep through the night without waking each other up for an extended song, craft, story and granola bars break before returning to bed).
As Owen just said when I asked him to get the remote control, "I just can't. I have too much jet-lag right now."

How we're NOT feeling right now. Ok, maybe just one of us.

en route...

Sitting at the airport…

Traveling makes me hopelessly nostalgic and sentimental.

I blew dramatic air-kisses to my freckle-nosed tow-head as the school-bus pulled away, and shed a few tears after squeezing my pig-tailed wonder goodbye. 

And then I almost hugged my cabby.

My heart is swollen and I feel love for the world and all in it. 

If Andy were here he’d groan, roll his eyes, and put a chair of distance between us. 

I almost wish I could do that myself. 

I’m off to see my dear Mandy – inside her belly my goddaughter has kindly waited 5 days past her due date for my arrival, and I hope not to wait too long for hers.  I’d like a few days of nuzzling and sniffing her before I have to take a plane home. 

I checked the world’s largest suitcase, stuffed to near-splitting seams with all manner of tiny, feminine clothing, shoes and hats, and the gate agent politely looked the other way when the scale read a bright “51 lbs”, rather than charging me $75 for the extra pound.  For a split second I imagined myself rummaging through the thing and removing one pound’s worth of onesies and miniature leggings and stuffing them all throughout my pockets, carry-on and computer bag…thumb-sized socks dropping out of my purse in the hallways of the Lindburgh terminal as I rushed to catch my flight. 

Thank you, Kind Gate Agent. 

When I travel with my children I am the picture of efficiency and control, managing all manner of travel predicament with resourcefulness and economy.  Alone, I am fumbling, meandering, taking forever to reassemble my strewn-about self and baggage after the security screening, bumping through airport shops and forgetting which pockets hold what items.  Unencumbered, and untethered, I also feel small and quick if not a little haphazard, and I must seem young because every single uniformed person today has called me, “Miss.”  I'm buzzing with anticipation, zeroed in on my goal; I'm a godmother on a mission. Get there before she does. And then hope she comes quickly. I'm coming baby Sloan... are you?

Tonight we plan to eat at Scalini’s.  Their famous Eggplant Parmesan is credited with inducing over 300 babies – whose photos are displayed under the title “Eggplant Babies” on a wall of their dining room. 

Come tonight, sweet Sloan.  Don’t you want to be an Eggplant Baby too?

The plane is boarding now, Lord help the poor person seated next to me.

Eggplant Babies at Scalini's