Identity: Intercessor

COVID-19 knitted shawl

..prosper the work of our hands;
  proper our handiwork.  Psalm 90:17b

     It is difficult for me to believe that it is May 21; time seems to be moving on.  The seasons change; life moves on; gardens grow, and hearts grow weary of this COVID-19 world.  Each day we are presented with facts and figures that often dazzle and confuse us.  Some of them are sobering; and some perhaps, we'd rather not know!
     During these last few months, as I continue to form my retirement identity, it has become very apparent to me that one of my roles is that of Intercessor.  The life of prayer is a privilege; and a responsibility.  As a professed member of the Third Order, Society of St. Francis, daily office is a part of my rule of life.  This also includes prayers of intercession.  We have been given much to pray for in the past few months.
     One of the things I have noticed is how active my hands have become as I pray for others.  As I garden, knit, pray with the rosary, even knead bread dough, it is prayer that becomes the work of my hands.  It is, as Paul tell us, to pray without ceasing.
     The past few months have also given way to learning new things.  Recently, thanks to a friend in England, I have learned of slow stitching.  You can learn more about slow stitching here: https://www.craftschooloz.com/slow-stitching

     For the foreseeable future, I will take this role of intercessor very seriously.  It is important in our life together.  And, as my hands garden, knit, bake or stitch, I will be asking God to not only be present with those for whom I pray, but also to prosper the work of my hands... to prosper our handiwork.

Coronavirus and life...

It has been sometime since I last made an attempt at this blog.  There were planned entries, of course, but all that has changed in the last few weeks.  What we thought 2020 might be like certainly got changed in a short time.  We have new vocabulary words,  such as social distancing and PPE, and perhaps new ways of being in the world...at home.  Life on the Homestead has been good; we are staying home and learning to enjoy the changing seasons.  Our gardening life is taking off.

And we are in awe and amazed by the creativity of people; my colleagues in the church, other "farm" folks and even family.  We are all learning during these days.  We are perhaps more resilient that we thought!  We can stay home...

There are many heroes of these COVID-19 days.  We hear about doctors and nurses on the front lines; but there are also hospital staff who clean, chaplains who must deal with more death than normal, secretaries who worry.  Then there are Moms and Dads at home; home with their children where they serve not only as parents, but also as teachers.  And there are funeral directors and other funeral home employees--they are sometimes referred to as "last responders."  And even for those of us thus far less affected, we are all suffering in our own way.

Last year, I wrote a piece about knitting purple hearts.  You can read it here https://eclecticepiscopalian.blogspot.com/2019/04/purple-hearts-brings-needed-time-to.html?spref=fb&m=1&fbclid=IwAR3ro8LVxFVRxuon6j383uTn7hPuIzlYYNFdmC_cOaA6wB5Sss_T23Dx0z0://    As this pandemic spread, I found that I couldn't concentrate enough to write, or read, or some days, I couldn't even pray.  But I could knit.  I pulled out my purple yarn, and began to knit purple hearts.  I knitted and knitted and knitted; and I am still knitting them.  Over the past few weeks, I have mailed out a few to those who have been at the forefront of this pandemic. 

It is likely that we have weeks and weeks to go in this venture; we have many things to learn yet, many letters to write, many purple hearts to send.  If you know someone deserving of a purple heart, let me know.

Stay safe. Wash your hands.  Be kind.  Find at least one thing each day for which you can give thanks.  Laugh. Pray. Look for Joy. 

We are well; the goats are great.  The hens are laying each day.  And for now, we are content at home even as we are missing being with our friends .  In good time, we will be together again.  Until then, I'll keep knitting!

Identity: Goatherd

     From the time I was three years old, I knew I wanted goats in my life.  I felt drawn to them.  Perhaps it was from a memory I savored: as a young girl, a great uncle obtained a goat for my brothers and me to "play" with on a summer visit.  Oh... he was a mean little buck--with horns and a temperament that went with those horns.  We named him Jim Jeffcoats!  I cannot recall why that was his name.  And upon reflection, that wasn't the best introduction to goats! He was a bit much for my brothers and me!

    Later in my journey, there was a visit to a Santa's Village.  Perhaps it was there that my love of goats began to be nurtured!  Feeding baby goats with a bottle is a joyous things. Little goats frolic and play and seem so joyous!

And there there was my (almost) obsession with Tasha Tudor; an artist and author.I have always admired her lifestyle.  Tasha milked goats--Nubians!  I was hooked.

I had to wait almost 60 years to realize my own dream of owning goats.  What absolute joy they bring into my life.  Who needs TV when you can be entertained by the antics of goats in the backyard.  To witness birth of kids is one of my greatest delights.  And the milk! Oh fresh milk!  And the cheese we make is a part of our simple lifestyle.  We're not milking now, but we will freshen our goats this year and be back in the milking business next year.

For nearly 20 years, I served the Good Shepherd in active ministry.  This journey took me to many places to tend the sheep.  It was a privilege and delight to serve, and of course, in retirement, I find ways to serve quietly now.

As I reclaim my identity, I am proud to claim being a Goatherd as part of that identity.  Daisy, Lovey, Fiona and Blossom are my sweet herd.  As a Goatherd, I must care for the goats no matter what the weather or my mood-Neither snow or rain nor heat nor gloom of night, our goats must be fed, given fresh water and hay, hooves must be trimmed and coats must be brushed.  Not to mention mucking out the barn from time to time. In the winter and spring of 2018, we found goat friendly folks who aided us in a difficult season of health issues.  I have to admit, I've met the nicest people as my interest in goats grew over the years. Goats seem to bring out the best in folks!

Yes, a Goatherd--that's part of my identity.   

Reclaiming Identity

You have likely heard that old saying, "Of all the things I've lost, I  miss my mind the most!"  Yes!  My mind has been very scattered these last few years.  

In the twinkling of an eye, our lives can be rearranged.  An illness can bring on sudden loss; the death of a loved one changes things for us.  And retirement...it can bring on a loss of identity.  Who am I now?

For the past few years, I have deeply wrestled with the question of identity.  I retain some identity as a priest of the Episcopal Church, with the word retired following my named.  But what does that really mean?  It's not as easy to answer as it seems.  One of the myths about retirement is that it is not really a loss, but a gain.  Well...yes and no.  Grief accompanies this stage of life; most folks don't want to talk about that part of letting go.  No one really wants to talk about the loss of identity that comes with retirement.  Maybe we should talk about it; and grieve it too.

I am reclaiming some identity this year.  I am me!  Wonderfully and uniquely made--made in the image of God.  As I discover God's new call for me, I am exploring all the ways God draws me out of myself.  It's going to be an exciting year!

Blessings,

Ann+

All along the watchtower...

As the summer days move along, with heat and humidity, I am grateful for air conditioning and the discipline of Daily Office.  Every time I come across the Gospel for today (Mark 11:27-12:12--read every other year), I think of Jimi Hendrix and his rendition of Bob Dylan's All along the watchtower.  Perhaps it is because we are on the octave of the 50th anniversary of Woodstock and I'm feeling a little nostalgic, or perhaps it's the summer heat, or the ever  constant "Breaking News" in our day, this song was a part of my day--all day today.

Jesus tells a parable: "A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press,  and built a watchtower . . ."  Feels like we're all on the alert for danger these days...watchtowers? We have more sophisticated equipment these days--but we watch all the same.  Time was when we left our doors unlocked at night and the screen door was rarely latched.  We've moved beyond that now with our security locks and cameras.  All along the watchtower, indeed.

I found this review interesting; I appreciate the compare/contrast between Dylan and Hendrix

.https://www.reasontorock.com/tracks/watchtower.html

Dylan "got religion" some say after this song...I say he always had it, but like with many of us, it had to be awakened in him.  Was it a metaphor for his life or something deeper within him?

As the summer comes to a close and our garden chores change from harvest to clean up, I'll likely continue to hum this song as I circle the perimeter of my garden space.  No watchtower here--but plenty of jokers and thieves around the place!  And I will continue to be grateful for the Daily Office readings and music--sacred and secular--that help me grow.

In case you want to listen to Hendrix, here is a link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLV4_xaYynY Enjoy...

Goat People

Goats are hot these days!  They are on social media, in commercials on TV, clearing highways of vegetation.  And recently, many of my friends shared a cute goat post from Facebook--maybe you've seen it, too!  Goats seem to be everywhere!

From the time I was three years old, I wanted a goat.  I've never been entirely sure where the desire actually came from; perhaps it's because I am a Capricorn!  None the less, my attraction to goats has been long term.  After nearly some 60 years of dreaming, I finally became a goat owner about 5 years ago-- now the proud owner of four beautiful dairy goats--affectionately known as The Girls!  Miss Daisy was my first, along with her now deceased brother, Rascal--aptly named I might add.  Next came Miss Lovey--and she is such a love.  Miss Fiona is Lovey's daughter, and last year, Fiona gave birth to Miss Blossom who was born on Earth Day. We really should have named her Rascalina!  Did I mention I love my goats?

The goats have brought great joy and milk in my life.  We have made cheese, ice cream, yogurt and other delectable food items when we have milk.  We learn something new every day with The Girls.  They love animal crackers--my husband says it's goat crack!  They would do almost anything for one little treat.

But perhaps the greatest part of being a goat lover is the people it has brought in our lives.  Long before we owned goats ourselves, we befriended a family with 4 boys who participated in 4-H.  We met Dad and sons first; and their protective Mom later.  She was a bit suspicious of us at first--why are these people with no goats and no children in 4-H hanging around!  The boys showed us the ropes and were always eager to teach us something new.  That friendship continues today, and I can't tell you how rewarding it has been to watch the boys grow up into men.

Then there is a special family--we met on Facebook, but it was because I wanted goats and they had them! Ha!  That also developed into a deep and abiding friendship.  We continue to be a part of each others lives, even getting together for visits on occasion.

The young woman who moved near our area became a friend, too.  The trials and tribulations of life led her to something more simple--goats and chickens and turkeys!  She was a wealth of knowledge and we bought our first goats from her.  All because of goats--we became like family.

And, although I have felt somewhat like the odd ball as an Episcopal priest (now retired from active ministry), I have been blessed to find a few other priests who are goat lovers, too.  One has become a very, very dear friend--I have traveled to her home and even milked (attempted to) one of her goats.  I got pretty good at giving out the pretzels!  And there is the priest who really wants a goat.  Oh I do hope she gets her wish--her life will be forever changed.

And there is the author of many books--friends on Facebook, but also such an inspiration to me.  We have never met in person, but I do believe that our hearts beat goats together.

Yes, goats are everywhere, including in my barn.  I love them!  I love our life together.  But I simply treasure all of the humans my love of goats has brought to my life.  I am nearly always asked, "How are the goats?"  They have a special way of bringing a smile to my face... and to others.

And it's always a reminder to me of the Divine Being!

G--God

O--of

A--all

T--things.

The God of All Things has brought amazing friendships and love to my life! Thanks be to God!

What might have been

It's Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day; hope that those who are mothers and those who have been like mother's to us have had a wonderful day.  

This story won't leave me; the story of Adam Crapser.  A colleague posted something about it on Facebook.  For days I was arrested by my own feelings.

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/10/27/499573378/south-korean-adopted-at-age-3-is-to-be-deported-37-years-later
This story is a few years old, but there are some updates on other websites.  Adams is suing the agency that placed him in the adoptive home.

Adam's story is heart breaking; adopted at age 3 and raised in the United States, after living here for all of his life, he was deported.  It is indeed a sad story.  Made sadder for me by my own life circumstances.  You see, many, many years ago, my husband and I tried to adopt a South Korean child.  We were the next on the list to receive a child when something went terribly wrong.  The relationship between the South Korean Agency and the agency in the U.S. was broken and lawsuits were impending.  We, along with several other couples, never got our long awaited child.

To read Adam's story, the unsettling circumstances of his life, it is difficult to image the horror he experienced.  Abused by not one family, but two, he now finds himself in South Korea as his wife and children remain in the States.  It made me wonder--what if we had been Adam's family?  We were blessed many years later to adopt a child; but Adam's story made the disappointing outcome of my past come roaring back.  A son--oh what would it have meant to have a son! Would he have become an artist, a poet, perhaps a baseball player, or even a ballet dancer? Would he have laughed with us, celebrated birthdays with us, fed goats and chickens with us?

Today on this Mother's Day, I give thanks for the process of adoption that allowed me to become a mother and for the beautiful daughter with which I am so blessed.   I give thanks that as a priest, I have served as a spiritual mother for some.  But today, I am also thinking of Adam Crapser and all of the others who have similar circumstances.  What if Adam had been my son?  The story won't leave me; for now I pray for him. Letters will be in my future plans--to politicians, agencies and yes, maybe even one to Adam.