Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Sabbath rest

August 19, 2017

beggars all

St. John's Abbey Church Interior

feet shuffle
down multiple aisles
approach the altar
sacraments of life
and death remembered

the sound of shoes
resonates against concrete
moves us to receive
hope for life and death
a crumb and a drop
spiritual food for body and soul

It’s 1980-something. I’m sitting in a long pew just beneath the balcony in St. John’s Abbey Church. The sanctuary is full of visitors, members, and local residents of Collegeville, Minnesota. We’ve begun moving forward to multiple stations where we’ll receive the sacraments. This is an ecumenical Eucharist; all are welcome.

It isn’t far to the stations set up near the center of the sanctuary. Architect Marcel Breuer collaborated with Benedictine monks to design this space. They ensured no one would be more than 85 feet from the altar. They also excluded columns, drapes and sound baffles.

No ecumenical Eucharist has moved me to tears as this did. It was the sound. It wasn’t the readings or the homily, or even the hymns. It was the inescapable sound of feet shuffling along the concrete. Beggars all, slowly making our way forward and then back to our seats. Like the thief on the cross. The one who didn’t stay sitting in his seat, but got up and led the first procession to the cross on which Jesus lived and died for us.

***
I first posted this on 30 September 2015. Yesterday I noticed someone had read it. So I checked it out.

I couldn’t help making a connection with recent events here in the USA. No one event captures everything. Instead we’re faced daily with more evidence that things fall apart, and that nothing we do can put them back together.

Yet we have every reason to hope. Not because we’re people of good will, love everyone, exercise deeds of kindness and mercy, or anything else we might find praiseworthy. Rather, it’s because of what God offers us through Jesus Christ.

All we need to do is get up out of our seats and get in line behind the thief on the cross. Offering ourselves just as we are, and counting only on God’s great mercy.

Praying you find rest for whatever is wearying you this Sabbath.
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 August 2017
Photo found at thecatholicspirit.com

11 Comments
August 7, 2017

Mid-Summer at Chanticleer | Photos

A week ago D and I drove over to Chanticleer Gardens for a late afternoon stroll. Not a quick walk, but a stroll. An amble. A creep-along marathon of nonstop mid-summer beauty.

Here are some favorite up-close photos.


Unlike Longwood Gardens, Chanticleer has small, laid back elegance. Lawn chairs, picnic tables, rocking chairs and quiet spaces invite visitors to take their time exploring delightful nooks and crannies and whimsical garden architecture. Or read a book and take a nap on the grass.

And my final five!

One more extra feature–a map you can use when you come to visit!


For more information about Chanticleer, click here.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 August 2017
Photos taken by DAFraser, July 2017
Chanticleer Gardens
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Amble

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August 1, 2017

the garden of my heart

This past Sunday D and I visited Chanticleer. It’s only a 20 minute drive from our house. You can walk through the entire garden, with a few off-path adventures, in a couple of hours. Alternatively, you can spend the day exploring tempting side paths. Bring your picnic lunch and eat at one of the picnic tables, or on your own blanket spread anywhere you like on the grass. Or you could sit in a lawn chair and read a book all afternoon.

On Sunday it was a bit crowded, but not too much for a leisurely stroll punctuated with stops for photo ops. D took the photo at the top on Mother’s Day in May 2015. It’s one of my favorites. Later this week I’ll post a photo review of Sunday’s visit.

During the last few weeks I’ve begun reviewing all my Haiku/Poetry posts, selecting some for possible publication in an ebook. The poem below is among them, inspired by the photo at the top.

the garden of my heart
sits quietly waiting
chairs placed side by side
beam with glowing luster
tadpoles swim
mosquitoes buzz
flowers dip and sway,
music from a springtime breeze
invites me out to play
lily pads provoke a game
of hopscotch cricket-style
dragon-flies flit overhead
and clap their wings for joy
cool water laps around the reeds
a gentle under-tone
announcing your arrival soon
to be with me
alone

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 June 2015
Photo found at Chanticleer Garden Guide
Chanticleer Pond Garden

Time to get back to sorting through those lovely poems. Surprisingly, I’m feeling more energized about this project than I anticipated. Thanks for all the likes and comments you left in the past, especially on my haiku/poetry posts. It’s heartwarming to see and read them again! Even inspirational.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 August 2017

14 Comments
May 20, 2017

from a nearby tree

from a nearby tree
a catbird sends waves of song
spilling to the ground

Have you ever heard a catbird? If so, you already know their song is unmistakable. Loud, almost hyper mimics, they punctuate their unending songs with sharp ‘catcalls.’ Sort of like the sharp ‘meow’ of a cat. Unlike other mimics (thrushes or mockingbirds), they don’t usually repeat their songs.

We hear them every day. Especially now, when birds are nesting and nests need defending. They crank up their musical contributions before sunrise, and continue past sunset. We heard one yesterday evening when we went out walking. It was perched in a tree just above our heads, well past sunset.

Catbirds don’t seem worried about running out of songs. Instead, they’re worried if you come too close to a nearby nest. When that happens, they aren’t shy about dive-bombing around your head, descending from a nearby thicket to cajole you into leaving the area. They don’t give up, and they aren’t bashful.

God doesn’t swoop down from heaven to defend us or to scare intruders away. Still, there’s something god-like in a common catbird’s defense of its nest and determination to frighten off or redirect the attention of possible intruders.

My real-life intruders are often discouragement, fear or loneliness. Sometimes God descends to my aid when I listen to music I love and let it fill the airwaves, spilling into my heart and tense body. A sign that majesty and power are present in ways I don’t understand.

This doesn’t solve my problems. It simply makes things bearable, and invites me to relax, knowing I’m never out of the range of God’s care. I think another way of naming it is Sabbath rest.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 May 2017
YouTube video found on Google
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Descend

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April 23, 2017

Sabbath for My Body


Dear Friends,

It’s been a while since I wrote about Sabbath Rest. I’m learning the hard way that this isn’t just one day a week. It all began a year ago, in April 2016, and now includes a new health challenge I found out about this month.

On April 6, 2016, I received my spectacular pacemaker, Lucy. She’s now one year old, and has demonstrably changed my life for the better. Lucy is my upbeat (!) silent, invisible champion. She’s on call 24/7, making sure my heart rate doesn’t wander below 60 beats a minute. No more fainting spells.

Then, on April 21, 2016, my first day out alone with Lucy, I tripped on uneven pavement and fractured my jaw. Full stop.

Things will never be the same in my mouth. Wired jaws, lessons in how to use my Vitamix, pain and agony, sheer exhaustion as night became day and day became night. No description can capture it. I thought it would never end.

It’s still difficult to form some words. Still, most of the pain is gone and I’ve regained significant lateral movement in my lower jaw, though my bite will never be the same.

My broken jaw pushed me over the cliff into adrenal fatigue. Thanks to my integrative doctor, I now have a regular pattern each day and night. That means I have energy most mornings, and am ready to sleep most nights. No more erratic nighttime insomnia, or falling asleep in the middle of eating during the day.

Regular rest stops are my new normal. This means putting my feet up, taking short naps, and meditating as needed during each day. I want to stay grounded in what really matters.

Then about 2 weeks ago my doctor confirmed a new challenge: Chronic Kidney Disease, Stage 3a of 5 stages. This came with little warning; my emotions have been all over the map. I’ve had several tests this past week to measure the extent of the damage.

Just for today I want you to know what’s happening. I’ve talked about end of life matters several times this year. The Shape of Forgiveness series was one such issue. So is this.

Are end of life issues my present calling in life? I don’t know. I do know that today, tomorrow and thereafter every part of me is invited into Sabbath Rest. Even though it may not always feel restful or inviting.

Praying you’ll find rest for yourselves each day of this coming week, beginning now. Blessings of inner peace in these troubled times.
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 April 2017
Photo found at kellyjohnsongracenotes.com

10 Comments
September 4, 2016

Sabbath Patience?

Alexander McCall Smith book cover

I’m tired of resting.
Tired of following my daily recovery routine.
Tired of regularly hoisting my feet onto the sofa and doing nothing. Read the rest of this entry »

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May 30, 2016

Sleepless

At the Back of the North Wind Flying

From my journal on Sunday, at 4:15am:

Sleep has vanished. I’m restless, uncomfortable, still taking in the reality that I have 3 weeks (not 2!) to go yet with the wires. And that I’m nearly 10 pounds below my ‘normal’ 112 pounds. Read the rest of this entry »

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May 28, 2016

Prayer

Lion-And-Lamb-Picture-HD-Wallpaper-1024x574

Dear Friends,

This week was a roller coaster. Highs and lows one after the other. Still, I wrote in my journal and will post some pieces later. The picture is messy. Not because it’s ugly, but because it isn’t logical or sensible.

In the midst of the ups and downs I’ve followed George MacDonald’s sonnets for May. Some keep drawing me back for another read. Not because they’re profound, but because they’re simple and speak to my heart and situation right now.

Here’s one I’ve read over and over the last few days. It comforts me during this extended, unexpected Sabbath rest.

May 26

My prayers, my God, flow from what I am not;
I think thy answers make me what I am.
Like weary waves thought follows upon thought.
But the still depth beneath is all thine own,
And there thou mov’st in paths to us unknown.
Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought;
If the lion in us pray—thou answerest the lamb.

George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
Augsburg Fortress Press 1994

I identify with every line, every word, every nuance. Especially the contrast between what I am not and what I am. Not because of myself, but because of the way God answers me. Not in kind, but in ways only a little lost lamb understands.

  • I roar with indignation; God whispers with comfort.
  • I get my back up; God rubs it gently.
  • I complain about the puny food that’s set before me; God smiles and pours a glass of wine.
  • I rage; God sings a lullaby.
  • I blame God; God holds me closer.

Stubbornly (!), God keeps responding to the little lost lamb. Taming my anger, showing me who I am in God’s eyes. Reassuring me, like waves that keep washing up on the shore, that God is found in the depths of the ocean. Not in the wearying repetition of my human effort to make a mark on life.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 May 2016
Image found at cityviewchurch.com.au

8 Comments
January 17, 2016

my life’s inheritance | From an Old Soul

Sunrise, dawn-kinnoull-hill-river-tay-scotland-5051757749

~~~~~Dawn sunrise from Kinnoull Hill above the River Tay, Scotland

I can’t help it! Abandoning George MacDonald is not a possibility. So today we’re embarking on his August sonnets. He’s still talking with his Lord, though from a slightly different perspective. As before, his conversations with God include striking images, personal struggle, Read the rest of this entry »

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November 29, 2015

The soul’s nest | From an Old Soul

July 22 – 23, Diary of an Old Soul

Sometimes, perhaps, the spiritual blood runs slow,
And soft along the veins of will doth flow,
Seeking God’s arteries from which it came.
Or does the ethereal, creative flame
Turn back upon itself, and latent grow?—
It matters not what figure or what name,
If thou art in me, and I am not to blame.

In such God-silence, the soul’s nest, so long
As all is still, no flutter and no song,
Is safe. But if my soul begin to act
Without some waking to the eternal fact
That my dear life is hid with Christ in God—
I think and move a creature of earth’s clod,
Stand on the finite, act upon the wrong.

George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
Augsburg Fortress Press 1994

Soul-weariness. I know it well. A kind of spiritual torpor. Listlessness. Is it sloth? Maybe. I’m not sure. It creates hunger in me. Hunger to trace down the source of this lassitude, this inability to move within my spirit for or against anything.

Sometimes I try to ‘make it happen.’ Searching for anything that will jolt my connection with God and with others. Wake me up. Give me a reason to live, a reason to write, a sense of contentment or even happiness.

I know my life is ‘hid with Christ in God,’ but it’s hidden so well that I can’t seem to find it right now. Is this depression? World-weariness? Older age seeping into my veins? Molasses running cool instead of warm?

Where’s the fire I long to feel? Am I burning out? Are my best days behind me? Is it going to be like this forever?

I can think of a thousand ways of describing it. But none of it takes me anywhere.

All I know is that God dwells in me no matter how I feel right now. I don’t blame God, and I can’t blame myself. This is just the way it is right now. Like it or not.

In fact, this is a pretty restful place. “God-silence.” A bit like Sabbath rest. Is God resting too? I like the idea of being a little bird in God’s nest. I like being here, not worrying about where the worms are coming from for my next meal, or what I’ll do today. God seems to be taking care of that…so far. I think I’ll take a little nap.

On the other hand, I wonder what it would be like to leave the nest.

I have an idea! I could practice my flutters for a few days, and learn to sing a little bird song! I’m sure God wouldn’t mind if I take a tiny solo flight to spread cheer and good will. It would really perk me up to know I’m making a difference!

What did you just say? I shouldn’t do this? I don’t belong to myself? My life isn’t my own? And if I do something impulsive like this, I’m just “a creature of earth’s clod?” Made out of a lifeless lump of clay? About to crash-land?

What do you know about it? Who do you think you are? God?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 November 2015

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