Holy in the Ordinary

I was enjoying the snow this morning and wondering if that could be incorporated into my blog today. I was truly enjoying watching the flakes fall slowly to the ground, they weren't being blown around or coming down so fast, just a relaxing snowfall. It was enough to be a nuisance to the custodian who has shovelled (pushed) snow a couple times today, but beautiful in that it makes everything appear brighter, whiter, covered up some of the dirt on the old snow.

I wasn't sure how that would fit into a Lenten entry, but then I returned to the Ann Weems book, Kneeling in Jerusalem, and found the poem, "The Holy in the Ordinary"

Holy is the time and holy is this place,

and there are holy things that must be said.

Let us say to one another what our souls whisper...

O Holy One, cast your tent among us;

come into our ordinary lives and bless the living!

Forty days stretch before us,

forty days of hungering after faithfulness,

forty days of trying to understand the story,

and then, Holy Week...

O God, if every week were holy...

These forty days stretch before us,

and those of us who believe

yearn to feel Your presence,

yearn to be Your people;

and yet, the days fill with ordinary things

with no time left

for seeking the holy.

Spiritual contemplation is all right

for those who have the time,

but most of us have to make a living.

Most of us have to live in the real world

where profanity splashes and blots out

anything holy.

Where, O Holy One, can we find You in this unholy mess?

How, O God, can we find the holy in the ordinary?

I think that is what I am seeking this Lenten season. What can I do within the ordinary that will be holy? Do I need to look at things a bit differently, do I need to execute what I do in a different way, do I need to seek for God in new places-really looking in the everyday activities. Maybe I don't need to be searching for a thing to do or a thing to give up in order to have more time or money or reasons to be seeking God. God is in the unholy mess all around me. God is in the ordinary. The "thing" to give up for Lent is the yearning to feel God's presence and just know that God is in the filled up days of ordinary things. I don't need to be seeking Him out, I don't need to be casting tents so God will come be around. That is what I give up--that searching, that time spent trying to understand, to find, to comprehend. This a time of journey, probably not going anywhere particularly new this time. I have been down the road to the cross many times. But, this time I need to be conversing with my travel companion, sharing the experiences, the questions, the hungering, with God, who is right there. This is not a search and rescue trip. It is a travel experience, a trip with an itinerary already developed by my traveling companion and my trying to create a new trip plan is a waste of time. I need to take the journey and snap the pictures and write in the journal and ask the questions to understand each sight, sound, and stopping place along the way.

Today's snow just was--it wasn't a few flakes, it wasn't a snow shower or have winds with it making a blizzard. It was just snow, slowing falling down and covering the earth. I didn't need to search for reasons why it was there. I didn't need to wonder if there was a storm coming, what was next. I just needed to watch in wonder, see it slowly blanket the old snow and just be there. There wasn't a profound message in the experience. I didn't need to find a metaphor or draw any parallels. I just experienced it and smiled.

Ash Wednesday--

Thanks to an email from Joan Lilja, the NE District Chaplain for clergy and families, I was reminded of the book by Ann Weems, Kneeling in Jerusalem. This is a poem titled, "A Listening"

Going through Lent is a listening.

When we listen to the word,

we hear where we are so

blatantly unliving.

If we listen to the word,

and hallow it into our lives,

we hear how we can so

abundantly live again.

So, today I am listening. I haved asked God for guidance in how to live out life faithfully during this Lenten season. So, I am listening for the word as to how I can live abundantly again--how to experience God in fresh, maybe not new ways. Do I work it out by disciplining myself to write every day? Do I spend time each day knitting prayer shawls and praying into that experience?

I don't know yet where I am headed with the Lenten journey. I think I just need to take the first steps, as I am doing here, and then watch for God's signs along the way. I am open to hearing God's word in my life however it may come to me. I am thinking it may come in the whisper and click of the knitting needles as I create shawls that will wrap people up in warmth and love. I didn't realize how powerful that process was to me as the knitter.

Last night I started my first prayer shawl. I spent time in prayer before beginning and prayed often while knitting. The process of "throwing the yarn" and having to switch from knit to purl makes the process so very intentional. Each stitch is the intentional choice of putting yarn over a needle and moving it from one needle to the other. There is a rhythm to the process, a sound that becomes soothing. The yarn itself takes on new qualities as it becomes woven together. The understanding that this piece of work will be wrapped around someone who needs prayer, who needs to feel prayer, will be in a way like God's arms wrapped around them is quite humbling. The process of knitting makes me a conduit of God's love and mercy and healing for someone. What a gift I have been given to be able to use my eyes, my hands, my heart to create an object that represents not just warmth and comfort, but love, prayers, healing, mercy, and strength.