Spring will come in your soul again Winter lingers there is yet more to do underground tending to the deeper matters grief questions longing.
Spring will come in your soul again like bulbs pushing through the cold crusty earth persisting until the green begins to show Announcing: “I am still alive!”
Spring will come in your soul again moments then hours occasionally for days Winter’s grief and longings meet spring’s hope and joy an invitation – speaking the beauty of what it is to be here, what it is to be whole.
I looked up just in time to see her reach up and grab the cloth from the edge of the table. The ceramic pot came crashing down. It broke open into many pieces and the strong, beautiful, and in full bloom, Anthrumim (Red Peace Lily), lay on the floor in a pile of dirt. I was in the middle of a zoom meeting. Thankful that my mic was muted so no one heard my: “NO!!!!!!!” although I’m sure from my expressions they could fill in the blanks: it’s the puppy!
The crash!
She already has a significant portion of my heart, so my response is tempered by my commitment to live through the puppy stage (how long does this last?) and enjoy the companionship of a well-trained dog. I can rethink this plant. It has a history and it’s the best plant I have; the only one that persistently blooms to let me know it’s happy here. I had already moved it once to “higher ground” when I saw her eyeing it on the plant stand last week. I underestimated her agility and strategy to find a different way to get it down to her level. It was the attraction of those beautiful green leaves! Which are toxic, of course.
So…I made the unexpected decision. Get a dog. Get it now. Get a puppy. Influenced by the generosity of my mother and sister, I took the risk and embraced the adventure. It seemed better than winter without a dog. Better than working too much, which is easy for us adults to do. Perhaps having a puppy also prevents one from not being silly as often as is needed for good health. Whatever the reasons or excuses…she is here, and we are living through this stage called “puppy”. Want to meet her? This is TRINITY.
She was already named when she came to me, and she knew her name well. Not to mention the quandary it might bring up if I determined “Trinity” was not a good enough name. It is not lost on me that a couple of weeks before she came, I was hanging an icon in my office; an icon with a title on the back: “Trinity”. So, she is here. My serene life before “puppy” is interrupted by indoor soccer, bones galore, chew toys for every hour, and a lot of night collapses where neither she nor I can move. I’ve met every neighbor that walks, strolls their babies, or has a dog. Word has traveled about her sharp puppy teeth – and – how much she absolutely loves people and other doggies. Our communal joy has increased with a puppy among us. She has some great service work ahead of her! But today…we are living through “puppy stage” together.
The plant I have enjoyed so much was a welcome gift when I started an appointment as Chaplain for the YMCA in 2016. It has thrived and always reminds me of the joyful three years serving with my YMCA friends and family. I’ve repotted it a couple of times over the past few years but had not noticed how much it was expressing its thriving now. When I scooped up the strong, green stems and placed the dirt into new containers, I discovered something. I had three plants, each with blooms on their stems and actually roots that were begging to be given more space to grow! It just wasn’t visible from the small container I’d been watering every week. It had become so familiar I didn’t notice the growth. And now…it’s all so much more!
Is it time to play?Because I’mready to playAnd I’m certain YOU need to play!
A puppy makes you play again, in case it’s been a while. Like a good friend who loves you just because you’re you, the puppy is sure a crash here and there will always be followed by a renewed sense of all that is good and right in life: JOY!
One crash; three beautiful discoveries!
I have been blessed by dogs that helped me grow in the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Hopefully the lessons learned in this new “puppy stage” will make me a better human along the way. More to come!
And may we always be mindful that sometimes a crash will break open something that was waiting for your discovery. Thank you, Lord, for that gift!
Grief is one of many things we hold in common. We all do it differently. And while volumes have been written about ways to navigate through it, we consistently land in the reality of walking our hearts through the depth of gratitude and loss.
I’ve been cleaning, purging, and rearranging all week. It’s part of my navigation. All the hidden bones need to be found and removed. The rugs that Oreo had claimed for his own – purge. The place he would go to and wait for me to greet him every time I came home – rearrange.
All of this led to a big haul to the recycling center, and ultimately to rearranging the garage. It makes perfect sense, right? I couldn’t let go of the collars and leashes so I hung them up for a day when I’m ready. Pacing our hearts is a way to walk through loss. I have so much peace about his quick departure – he had a full life and we had some great years! But yeah, I’m keeping his collars for now.
I was looking for a carabiner to hang something in the garage. I have a lot of them so I looked up to see what was hanging and if there is an extra one I can use. At this point I’m on the finishing touches. I’ve hauled off, rearranged, swept…it’s looking pretty good; I just need to hang another thing or two. Where’s a carabiner…..?
My eyes found it and it hit me like a ton of bricks. His life jacket! I didn’t think about his life jacket….and here come the tears.
I took it down and sent it away. Full of tears and gratitude, I took a moment to look through the pictures of our 2020 adventure to the lake.
Ready to roll!Preparing to go!Somewhere newAssisting with yoga practiceOut in the open water!Cousin Cinder about to leap over Oreo!the joy of adventure!Me and my dogPincho and CinderThey are so proud they did it!
When it came time for our rhythm of life to “take a break”, our routine had to change in 2020. For the first time we packed up our stuff, including dogs, and headed to a cabin near the lake. We ventured out to let them explore…about 5 miles on the lake with a paddle board and kayak. So much fun!! The two dogs, one so young and the other a little bit “mature”, fully engaged in the whole adventure.
Like everything else, Oreo was cool with whatever was happening on any given day. He wanted to be included. Every day I find something else that was his alone (like bones hidden in the furniture cushions!), and every day I stumble on something we shared….like a lake adventure during a pandemic. A reminder…that keeping rhythms but changing the routine often helps us discover new blessings.
Any routines you’d like to change this summer? You might make a memory that blesses you for the rest of your life!
“I think my God every time I remember you.” – Philippians 1:3
People bring us joy and blessings. Animals do as well. God has been generous and kind to us through all of creation. When Paul writes to the church in Philippi he is full of joy and gratitude for their faithfulness. When this Scripture comes to my mind today, it is because my spirit is full of gratitude for God’s blessing in providing me with a canine companion to do life with for a little while. Oreo helped me laugh and see little joys in life! Who helps you?
Joy!
God, thank you for all the ways you help us to experience love and grace in this world. Please be near anyone who is navigating through the depths of grief. When it is possible for the memories to return in a way that blesses, please bring them to mind. And when it is not, please comfort the brokenhearted in whatever way is needed. Thank you, Jesus, for understanding the whole of our human experience. We love you and we trust you completely. Amen.
Creator of All, you are the Light of morning you are the comfort in the dark. Thank you for the way you greet us today. We are in awe of your mighty hand – painting the sky and forests for us sending the river across the rocks hurling through the bends of current running… refusing to be stopped, living fully. We are in awe, Lord, of your strength and mercy your covenant and forgiveness your certainty and freedom. Thank you for loving us even as we try to make you into the image that we can comprehend.
We misunderstand your greatness. Please keep surprising us with your mighty hand making all things new. New in our hearts and minds New in our communities and in your world. We love you. We trust you completely. We yield the day, the week, our lives…into your hands. Amen.
A cold winter day in January with lingering snow on the ground is a good invitation for prayer. After a week of pause in yielding to nature’s course, the days may hold too much. It doesn’t all have to be crammed into Monday, or even Tuesday. Faithfulness to a day’s work is enough. The past week is not “lost”, it was provided. Playing in the snow or reading a good book, even dealing with busted pipes, it all “counts” as fullness in living.
Take the day and live it. Fully. With tears when grief is present. With laughter and all out joy if that gift is offered. With strength and mercy, compassion, and wisdom. Carefully. Fully. Humbly. As one deeply loved, even when you don’t know it.
Silence. Illusive. Revealing. Vulnerable. Real. I remember the silence in the house after my brothers death many years ago. It was deafening. We shuffled across the floor one moment at a time trying to figure out how to live. Just through the next hour. I was young. Life hurt. And it was so silent.
Recently at a Jesuit retreat house I enjoyed 48 hours of a silent retreat. The birds and scurrying of animals unseen offered sound. The wind blew through the trees and sang a melody every morning and again late at night. Occasionally I noticed the sound of my breath when I encountered something of beauty unexpected. It was restoring and offered much peace.
Surprisingly what lingers is the sound of dishes and silverware in the communal dining room. Sounds I have come to love. Signs of my neighbors (and mine) presence. Sounds of the basic need of food. The notes of music that say, “morning has come, let’s gather and eat, embrace the day.” Sacred.
Getting up from the table in my home I hear it again. Rinsing dishes. Dropping silverware in the sink. The clanging, tinkering, loud sound of life. I remember when that sound spoke of our grief and loneliness. There were many days we could not speak, the weight was too much. Today the clanging of dishes speaks of life. I couldn’t hear it until I stepped away and the silence revealed the blessing. A grace unexpected. A gift of silence redeemed.
May the peace of God bring blessing into the silent places of life. Providing, revealing, assisting, and offering to make something ordinary brand new.
This song was a favorite of my Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Tom. It was often a sound in our home – on the piano or the stereo. We never spoke about it except to know that after Uncle Tom’s death, it was a song we couldn’t play it in her presence.
Someone’s walking beside you One you cannot always see They arrived before you made your steps They’ll be there when you continue you on your journey You are not alone. Sometimes it’s the person in the grocery store Reminding you of something you’ve forgotten – the story of BREAD.
Another day it’s the vulture waiting on the roof To alert you: every death is followed by new birth Or the neighbors who pause to see what you cannot and share it. An old friend; a very new friend Someone is walking up beside you Offering peace Offering hope Offering love Wait for it.
As the light arrives When you are given the gift to see Receive and be grateful These are blessings of our Creator. For all the days we do not see Or hear the footsteps No presence felt or known Even still… someone is walking up beside you. Wait for it and keep moving forward.
Central Station is just three minutes away from the Lorraine Hotel and the National Civil Rights Museum. I’m as close as I can be right now. The music of this city is pouring out of every speaker I pass by; it’s rolling out of the entrance of my room and flowing through the gathering spaces. Music washes over you…over me; it begs me pause…just let it flow over me like water. Let it soak, inspire, remind me…and speak in the remembering.
I came to Memphis on “business” but I’ve stayed by necessity of heart. My friend and colleague, Rev. Dr. Autura Eason-Williams, was murdered here in Memphis on July 18, 2022. She was not “mine” per se – she was all of ours. We loved her. We appreciated her. We were inspired by her courageous leadership and certain call. Her husband and children were encouraged and bolstered by her love every day. I’m in her “district”; I’m in her city.
Someone else was murdered the morning of my arrival. A runner. A mother, a wife, a teacher, a woman. Eliza Fletcher. I did not know her, but her disappearance changed my weekend. The tenseness in my body increased. I altered the plans I had for walking. When a man pulled up, rolled down his window and hollered at me as I walked down the street, “hey pretty lady what are you doing?”, I wanted to scream. I kept my cool and kept on walking. He drove on and I turned around for yet another route. I hate not feeling “safe”.
The museum walks me through history as I read through and get a taste of someone else’s experience. Someone I didn’t know, though I read some of his writing and particularly his letter to his pastor colleagues; written from the Birmingham jail. I am moved by the history I’m walking through but I am undone by the sobbing of the young man who is next to me. He must have been 11 or 12 years old. An older woman was with him; a grandmother, perhaps. She doesn’t try to stop him from crying, but she’s right by his side as he takes in this part of our history.
Something catches my eye: “Don’t stop now. Keep moving. Don’t get weary. We will wear them down with our capacity to suffer.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. addressing a rally at Shiloh Baptist Church December 15, 1961. It’s “the capacity to suffer” that won’t leave my spirit. So many people have gone before us that had the “capacity to suffer”. I do wonder…do we have that capacity now?
Memphis is not a city of murder and violence. There is more. Music is here. Amazing blues music. Rock n Roll. Country. Incredible scores of musicians found their deep rhythms in this city. I walked over to the Arcade and got a window seat looking out at South Main Street. The lady sitting next to me has a story. She’s going to tell me a little, but not much. Memphis is “home” for her. I explain that I’m not from here; I came to town to officiate a funeral, but I stayed to take in the museum and a bit of culture. I stayed to remember my friend. She tells me she’s “sorry for my loss”, but I tell her how it’s OK, because I’m a pastor and this is what we do; we do funerals. We want to honor and celebrate people’s lives. We think it’s important.
The Arcade: The Oldest Cafe in Memphis; Established 1919
She has generational connections to the Arcade. We cover a lot of conversational ground in a few short minutes. It occurs to me as we sit and chat in what is the “oldest Café in Memphis”, that Reggie surely ate here many times. And maybe Elvis and surely Aretha Franklin. It also occurs to me that the woman I’m talking to in this moment is just as important as all of them. For all I know, which is very little, she is probably famous herself. The chances that I would recognize her are slim to none, unless she belts out a song I know. She kind of looked famous, but doesn’t everyone? https://arcaderestaurant.com/history/
As she gets up to leave, she looks at me and says, “you said you are a pastor; you are a pastor; right?” And I said, “yes; I am”. She said, “I’ve been needing to talk to a pastor but not a pastor from Memphis. I’m really glad I got to talk to you today.”
Of course, I was glad too; to have a true “local” to chat with and laugh a little; share a bit of history; say some things you might only say to a stranger. Of all the things we talked about (and I met her son in the middle of it all), I don’t know what one thing she needed to say to a pastor, whether it was “content” or just the experience she was seeking. Whatever we both needed, we seemed to get it sitting at the window seat looking out at South Main. Saturday afternoon in Memphis, Tennessee.
“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, LORD, make me dwell in safety.” – Psalm 4:8
God, please be near to anyone who needs to feel “safe” right now. We love you and we trust you completely. Amen.
If you don’t know Reggie, you’ve missed something that will bless your life. Start here and just keep listening. Peace.
She was an artist and a poet. But more than anything she was a friend. Her art began with trees reaching high into the sky. They are all praising God at the move of her paintbrush. I marveled at her creative process. I am so grateful for every painting and every poem. She left us with such beauty, and it never stops blessing my days.
It is Susie’s art and poetry that I saw when we were by the river yesterday. A tree had fallen. A big rip from an old trunk still standing on the bank of the river. A hard fall, based on the jagged edges of the trunk. It must have been loud in falling; it must have shaken the ground. The tall, strong and beautiful tree lay quietly in the flow of the river’s current. Ah…the tall tree is resting.
Today we celebrate the life of another friend. Nothing will be able to contain her life. No words or prayers. No song or Scripture. But everything will point to the Creator who gave her to us for a little while. Everything will praise the One who placed the Holy Spirit within her and created a channel of intentional love. Every breath we breathe is mingled with the same breath God breathed into her. She is a tall tree resting now. So deeply loved. I do wonder if Susie is talking with her; welcoming her friend into the eternal peace, eternal joy, eternal rest.
the roots of tall trees go deep search crumble granite penetrate core impelled by the knowledge that they are the linchpins that hold this entirety together – Susie Sims Irvin, The Tall Trees
Lord, for all who mourn today, please bring peace and comfort. For all who need healing, place your hand on their eyes and bodies, restore gently and completely. For the one who is searching, may your spirit guide them clearly to discover you. Let no one who needs a friend remain alone today. Please keep us growing, Lord. Keep us reaching tall to find you; digging deep with roots that sustain us in the long journey. And for all you hold in your arms today, Jesus, thank you for the gift of their presence. Thank you for the tall trees in our lives. Amen.
Harpeth River, May 2022. Melinda Britt photo credit
“No one lights a lamp and hides it in a clay jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, they put it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. Therefore consider carefully how you listen. Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what they think they have will be taken from them.”
My morning started at the river where the mist rising from the water met my prayers with hope. The birds declared melodies welcoming the day; sounds of reckless joy my voice can never muster. I am grateful how nature praises God and I am allowed the gift of participating. There is a chorus moving through the woods; a dance flowing in the water. I needed to begin here.
I wonder if I am heeding this teaching of Jesus to “consider carefully how you listen”? When I listen to the birds sing the morning praise it never occurs to me to assess their pitch or tone. I marvel at their persistence. I’m intrigued with the joy they bring in welcoming the day. I turn my attention to the music and let the song come close to me. And listen. Just listen. I laugh at how easily they all sing at once; if a director is present my untrained ear cannot discern it. I am grateful.
Is it possible we could listen to our brothers and sisters with this same grace? I wonder… If we employed such a natural curiosity as I find this morning while listening to nature, what would we hear? Anticipation not as prediction, but rather a simple wondering for what is being offered. Is there something I need to hear today?
God, you created us with ears to hear, minds to comprehend, and spirits to discern. We must often miss the very special thing we are in need of hearing. Please open our ears to what you are speaking in so many people and places right now. Tune our ears to the sound of your voice. Drown out the noise that begs for our attention and turn us carefully, humbly to you. We welcome and yearn for your divine voice to speak into this day. Help us to hear. Amen.
Life in the Deep End 