Twofer Special for the Celebrating

When the time for my cressima (Christening) and first communion in the Catholic Church came, it was mentioned by many that how special it was that I was able to accomplish two sacraments at the same time. Back in the states it would be known as a twofer, I got two great things for one price, can’t beat that deal anywhere! Now the fact that I am over 40 and most people take a couple of years to go through this process as youth less than half my age did give me an advantage to secure this deal, as well as 5 years of theology school at a Catholic University. It wasn’t quite an instantaneous special, but it was special, and I appreciated the effort of my priests and friends in securing this so quickly, especially because it was done with the intent to celebrate on a feast day for Mary, mother of Christ, mother of all.

Celebrating with Mary meant so much to me, it truly was she who called me back into the faith of my family’s history. It was the eternal call of the maternal who understood the glory of saying “yes” to the awesomeness of motherhood in a greater way than even we do, it is also she who grieves as a mother whose child suffers the pains of life. Mary, the mother who was there from before the birth of Jesus saying her faithful “yes” to God, and Mary who was named and present for the birth of the Christian church, celebrating the everlasting trinity of Christ, Spirit and God. Mary embodies eternity for me, the before Christ and after resurrection, the ultimate twofer.

However, when multiple people started speaking (joking) of yet another, a follow-up twofer; I got a bit nervous. For those who don’t know, the next two sacraments would be to enter into a religious order and marriage. For me this was way too rapid for my life in this place in time. Although I have been studying the various Catholic religious orders and their lay or secular orders, this all takes more time for processing than my previous sacraments. As for marriage, I am not even dating anyone at the time. These things are wayyyyy serious steps for contemplation. But, may I say I was honored that some of my friends wished for me the ultimate goals in my journey of sacramental life, and ready to encourage me to follow through with speed.

All this had me reflecting on God’s timing, how we allow the spirit to move us in ways that guide a full and fulfilling life of living in the will of God. There are times to celebrate twofer specials that give us a rapid good deal, a shock of a wonderfully great and joyous gift, as well as times when we take time to contemplate and listen for the Spirit to move us to new horizons. Being open to the balance and to the sweet call of spirit to lead us with speed or patience, with caution or abandon, but to constantly be the pulling force in our lives. This gives another sense for twofer, to gain both a sense of immediacy and living in the moment with the second gift of waiting expectantly. We can make a leap of faith, we can gently hold ourselves through time, getting a spectacular twofer the price of one, while listening to the spirit’s guide.

Here in the season of Advent (the 4 weeks leading to Christmas in the tradition Christian calendar) and Christmas this all came flooding back. Advent is supposed to be a time of waiting, yet we often rush through the season and through the experience of Christmas with such velocity. Yet when we experience the season of advent with expectant, patient waiting, or as they say here in Italy celebrate Piano, piano (a softly, slowly….) how much more is the joy of the greatness of the immediacy of Christmas, the on great day of birth of the Christ? In this time of year we have the opportunity to experience both the patient waiting with the excitement of the surprise arrival of the Christ.

In what ways have you been gloriously surprised with an over-abundance of blessings, a twofer? Have you ever felt overwhelmed by other’s encouragement, meant for the best, but possibly pushing too rapidly for the occasion? How do you find balance between waiting and leaping for opportunities?

Under the Umbrian Moon

For a year I have been chasing the moon, with my camera and with my soul. Searching for genuine beauty, sensing deeply; heart and soul for authentic love and all THAT means. I’ve been on a spiritual quest for tranquility which leads to a greater awareness of what is grace. Chasing after what the poets, painters and other artists seek, that which is ethereal and elusive, that which is beyond words. Searching for bliss. Having arrived in this place of incredible beauty and peace with my very American gigantic suitcases which held a myriad of items sacred only to me including my sweatshirt with the quote from Joseph Campbell to “Follow Your Bliss,” even I knew this was a romantic folly. And yet……..

Perhaps that is what we must all look for in this broken world, that elusive thing called love, that thing that so confuses, confounds, confronts and hopefully will consume us. In trying times, in difficult times it seems so hard to find, yet find it we must. For authentic love is the only thing which truly is important. It is what brings together strangers with a smile, unites us intimately with a sincere kiss. All else is the wrapping around this gift in life.

In this season of Christmas it is easy to see where authentic love can get lost in the midst of modern life, just as the miracle of baby Jesus gets lost in the Black Fridays, endless holiday parties and endless tv specials that fill our time. Something so simple, the greatest gift of love for our world gets reduced to the shortest moments of this season which has now spread all the way to Halloween. But search for the miracle we must, for within this gift of love we find hope, faith and charity.

This is a work a day world, always in motion, and when we are feeling utterly exhausted it is also easy to lose the miracle of love to be found in everyday life, to see the blessings to be found in each new day, and to recognize that miracles of love happen each day. It was easy for me to feel tired of institutional life, tired of living more in fear of other’s thoughts than of expressing myself authentically, ultimately I felt like the crabby child in need of a nap. I needed a little moon chasing, a little romance of spirit, ultimately a little time in beautiful Piegaro. Time to rest and remember the spirit of love, the spirit of Christ on earth that led me into ministry those years ago.

Sweet Piegaro is not a perfect place, it is not Brigadoon and it is not Shangri-La, no Piegaro is simply a calm and tranquil village, which some call boring, but for me was necessary. It was here that I could chase the moon, to remember to look for the beauty to be found in large and small things, and to pray daily with encouragement and love of my neighbors. Love is that beautiful circle, the more you give the more you get, the more you get the more you want to give. To be in this sweet town and have people understand that I needed rest and authentically know this was their gift, this is what Piegaro is known for.

In chasing the moon, I found it, full and beautiful, shining over valley, mountain and this gorgeous medieval hilltop village. In seeking authentic love, always here, in our loving God, made evident in people who care for neighbor and stranger, a gift ever present. To live in the romance of life, to live ever seeking, ever giving love, is an eternal romance for us all to pursue…. For we know, especially at Christmas, especially in moments of grace and miracles in our lives, for me my time here in Piegaro, that Love Lives Eternally.

How do you seek for love in our busy world? Where do you find love? How do you experience love at Christmas? Where have you experienced the gift of authentic grace shared by others?

Where

Do

You

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Beauty & Love?

In the Garden

I took these photos oh so many months ago. Here in my favorite spot for a garden, beside the Fonti, behind the old church, and overlooking the valley below, Franco works his fields. It was a beautifully sunny day, and quite warm for February when slowly, by hand, Franco turned over the soil into neat and tidy rows, all prepared and ready for rest. The weather changed a bit, right after this day some cold blasts came through causing a pause in the tilling of the plot. But that is part of the work of the gardener, to do what you can when you can, to live in the moment of the season and the weather, and to always be ready to leave time for rest.

Spring came and went, and the garden was growing fully when I left for vacation in June. It was magical to return and see the progress in the fields during the 3 weeks I was gone. The plants were nearly full grown, there were wonderful supports constructed from local bamboo built for the rows of tomatoes and bean stalks. The generosity of my friends during the summer months and the sharing of tomatoes from Franco was a treat, because in the time the garden was growing so was our friendship. With the abundance of produce he gave me, came 6 jars of tomatoes for the winter and a week’s worth of pasta sauce and Capriese. I was truly blessed by his generous spirit.

All has been harvested now as autumn is fully upon us, the ground and crops gone with the end of the season, the soil tilled yet again as it rests before the late winter tilling to prepare for spring. A few folks have some late fall crops of cabbage and such in their gardens, but Franco’s is finished. Walking by the fonti, week by week is beautiful, watching the changing of the crops as they develop, noting the end of the leafy greens, then the tomatoes, then the green beans, until ultimately it was time to till the soil again. The garden has been such a wonderful metaphor for my time on sabbatical.

St. Francis always found metaphor and meaning in nature as he cultivated a spirit of holiness that invited others to follow the rhythms of the seasons of life in their daily walk with God. It is powerful to walk in the region of St. Francis, to see the progression of the year in Umbria winter, spring, summer and fall. But more than that is to sense how St. Francis was the walking epitome of cultivating spirit, of being present in place and season to the good of the Harvest of Jesus Christ. Praying in the chapel of St. Damiano, where St. Francis experienced Jesus telling him to rebuild the church, first taking it literally and rebuilding this beautiful place of worship, then to the deeper understanding of sharing the love of God with the world, one knows we are all called to share thusly. To hear the echo of St. Francis’ words from a young man on a mountain path, “spread the Gospel daily, and when needed use words,” inspires one to act on faith with the excitement of youth. To walk the paths of Isola Magiore (the big island), where Francis spent 40 days in Lenten retreat, is to feel the isolation Jesus must have felt in the wilderness, out in the middle of Lake Trasimeno, yet feel the constant presence of the grace of God. To see the workmanship in stone of the various churches and monasteries that St. Francis took an active role in building, and driving the miles of the territory St. Francis walked or rode by animal is to sense the dedication to physical labor in the act of carrying the message forward.

While visiting Assisi, I picked up a book of the writings of St. Francis and found them to be profound, and few. There are some, including the Prayer of St. Francis that were attributed to him but did not come from his hand. But what did come from his hand, what did come from the hand of friends of his, those who knew him, AND those who were so moved by his life in Christ, is a glowing example of what St. Francis cultivated. They can be attributed to him because they came from the spirit and heart of who he was and is eternally as a person of faith.

Our lives are like a garden, it takes so much out of our control for them to grow, yet for there to be the garden there must be cultivation. There must also be the patient waiting through the elements, the attention to the changing seasons, ultimately the rejoicing and savoring of the harvest. We can all find meaning and metaphor in the beautiful world we’ve been given, we can find those who inspire, cultivate within us, the place to grow in love and care for all.

Where do you find inspiration to spiritually grow? What activities around you, such as gardening, are metaphors for your life of faith? What do you feel when you are in a garden, in sacred buildings, or in nature? Where are some of the places where you most strongly feel the presence of the Lord?

Hanging Out the Laundry

I know I am dating myself when I remember all the words to a song from the eighties, “Dirty Laundry, which is basically about the misuse of media splashing and covering us all with bad news. I find contrary to this the beauty, and yes, I mean beauty of clean laundry hanging out to dry. And I know I am not the only one, every time I am with a large group of tourists visiting our sweet Piegaro at least one will mention how great it is to see the laundry hanging out. It often spurs quite a bit of conversation and admiration.

In contradiction to the song “dirty laundry” I find the clean washed clothes hanging on the line to be a most wonderful metaphor for the best part of life, the freshness that follows cleansing. As I write this entry it is the second week of the season of Advent, with the scripture reading being about John the Baptist being the voice in the wilderness calling out to repentance. He is described so roughly, dressed in his camel’s hair togs, but he’s talking and offering us all a chance to “go back” to God. It was great to hear in church this week that the Italian word for repentance, which sounds nowhere close to English, with the suffix being con- instead of re- meant the same thing, going back…into the love of God, the grace, the forgiveness, to be made clean.

We are fresh laundry, flapping in the breeze, inspiring others to remark when we live into our baptism. We boldly put ourselves out with grace, knowing we, unlike dirty laundry, are a beautiful thing. In psychology classes of my college years they would often tell us that to live life well and healthy it should be lived openly and authentically, as if all could see your every action , a bit like laundry hanging out. There is acknowledgement we are not perfect (like that darn sock with the dirt stains), but that we are basically o.k., we can be ourselves and out there. The more we live with confidence and authentically in the will of God, loving our neighbor, the more we can feel free as laundry in the breeze.

There is a peace that comes with the freshness of repentance, remembrance and renewal of baptism that is a gift to sense in this season before Christmas. And just as the brightly colored gifts under the Christmas tree, so the brightly colored clothes and linens on the line bring a sense of wonder and joy to my heart when I see it. And it was even more joyous for me to hear others squeal with delight as I want to each day when they see this homey reminder of all things clean and fresh.

What reminds you of the simple joys of God’s love? In the season of Advent, or days leading up to Christmas, do you find fulfillment in hearing all the stories leading to, entwined in the story of the stable and Holy Family? What inspires you to newness in faith; in Christ, God and Spirit?

Family: famiglia, parenti, genitori

All over the world families are important, but it was very obvious to me that in this village it is VERY important. Many of the neighborhoods can be described by the families that inhabit them. One section of Via Industria are almost all one family, surrounding Maria Pia in the Piazzola are her napolti and cugini (cousins and younger generations of her extended), and my neighborhood has immigrant families some with three or four generations in one big house. When you are here for a while you will find out how many other folks are also family to one another spread out around town. The Piegarese all seem to be related to one another somehow, and all hang out with cousins and extended family as they are all close.

This is very different than my cousins and family back in America, where as one aunt put it “most of us stayed where we were dropped,” when my traveling salesman grandfather moved onto another town. Our family is spread from coast to coast, from border to border. I have been blessed to have met all of my cousins, not something all of us can say. Because my Aunt Judy brought the different kiddo nieces and nephews to her home each summer for vacation and we lived in the same city during those years, I got to meet everyone. But meet is rather subjective, because there are a some I haven’t seen since childhood, and there were a few older ones, namely Aunt Judy’s kids who lived with a cousin, that I didn’t meet at all as a child.

We did have a few family reunions, which Aunt Judy coordinated, where I met my remaining cousins, but we didn’t know each other well, and as cousins we certainly don’t hang out with one another like they do here in Piegaro. We actually often converse more on Facebook than many of us have done in our whole lives in person. The passing of Aunt Judy this year rocked all of us this year. She was the one who knew all of our birthdays, telephone numbers, addresses, e-mail addresses and made sure if we moved she was updated. It was shocking yesterday to hear that her son Scott, one of my cousins I knew personally the least had past away in the night at the young age of 52. The stories Aunt Judy told of her son whom she loved and had recently regained a strong relationship with were told with pride at what a good father he was, what a caring family man, and how she felt so glad to be grandma and mom. Family is important.

Here in Piegaro when my friends know my daughter is coming for a visit they smile and share my happiness. They will ask repeatedly when she is arriving, inspiring the familial hope, and they are sad that my son can’t visit. They do the likewise with my friend Colleen as they know it is difficult to be away from family, and they encourage us to bring our family here, as well as to visit them. My closest friends will ask and want my family to come live with me here, and are content that Colleen will return permanently WITH her husband full time next year.

I appreciate the gift of my friends for their hopes not only for me to be reunited with my family, but also that they could come here and the community of my friends could be their community. They have given the gift of invitation into the family of Piegaro. What an amazing blessing from the people I love so much! Likewise, my children have given me the blessing of both saying they know this beautiful town is good for my soul, and is the best PLACE for me. However, they also have said they also want me back with them. My son has said, “We can’t hug on Skype, the computer doesn’t have your arms.”

For me with the admiration of the importance of family in community held closely here in Italy, in Piegaro, there is also a longing within my heart to be with my own family. There is a sense of loss for me that my extended family of cousins, aunts and uncles have always been so spread far apart that we haven’t had the opportunity to enjoy and annoy one another with greater intimacy. As I mourn for the loss of the presence of my cousin Scott in the lives of his wife, children and all who love him, I feel the distance between Italy and the US achingly.

I rejoice my daughter will be here in two weeks to celebrate Christmas and all the hope of the Holy Family. It is time to look forward to the hope of uniting soon permanently in order to live into the grace that I see here every day among my friends, the blessing of a caring, loving family. There have been times in the history of my family where caring and loving were not the defining characteristics, but each generation brings forth the hope that we can create the relationships that all need. In this season of advent, here is wishing a hope of families filled with the love and grace of the Holy Family.

Where do/can you find hope in your family gatherings during holiday seasons? Many who attend Church of Mary Magdalene have suffered in families of violence, pain and sorrow, what has been your experience of family? How can you utilize the wisdom of the family dynamics of others to bring grace into your own family? How do you invite others into the warmth of family ties with you, even if they are not “real” family? How does the beauty of Christmas, the arrival of Jesus into the family of God inspire you?

Muse, Musing, Amuse, Bemused and... Museum

In the past year I have had the pleasure of starting studies with my friends Elisa & Eva. They studied English with me while I study Italian with them. They say the best way to learn is to teach, so this is a very fine exchange. We started simply with words that are often spelled the same way in both languages, the pronunciation is usually different, and sometimes the meanings as well. As we were beginning our first “lessons” I was realizing how many words in English could be changed with just a letter or two for a different meaning, with the same root, on one hand confusing when it didn’t translate well in Italian, on the other rather poetic when thinking about the beauty of wordplay.

One root that stuck out to me was muse, which has the same meaning in Italian, and has its root in the Muses, the nine (9) daughters of Greek gods (either Zeus and Mnemosyne or Uranus and Gaia), who are themselves goddesses of literature and art. A muse is someone or something that inspires a person to bring forth their creativity and their art. Now add some wordplay …. There are several people here in Piegaro who amuse me to no end with their humor, antics and welcoming spirits. And there are a few people who seem quite bemused by me, this odd creature from another country with different ways, often different even than the tourists who arrive. Finally the town has its own museum of glass, which follows the history of this art and now very practical craft, back though its beginning in the 13th century. It is a beautiful presentation of the art and culture of this sweet community.

Piegaro, my home village here in Italy is most definitely my favorite muse each day, as I can find something new to see, hear, photograph and write about. Even the days I don’t write, I have a divine inspiration from this place God has brought me to. As a spiritual director, it gets me to musing (thinking, hopefully creatively) about how the Spirit is flowing through this beautiful place, through me. As I have mused on my muse it has been so very easy to romanticize this beautiful village, so see only her sweet simplicity among the soft rolling hills, to experience the sacred moments walked out through her streets in processions, and prayed through on bent knees in chapel, and two beautiful churches. There is so much beauty to find in the art and flowers with which the villagers adorn their homes, to the visible signs of the sacred they tuck away as well within the walls of the town. That is always the sweetness of a muse, it brings forth its beauty to an awaiting artist or soul looking to see the creative wonderment to be found.

To be amused is something spectacularly different in that it is a reaction to something creatively wonderful, usually humorous or enchanting. When we meet someone who is naturally witty we get to behold a different type of beauty that inspires our creative senses. I have a friend here who actually climbed outside my apartment building from the 2nd floor attic of my neighbor to my rooftop terrace (4th floor) when I locked my keys inside and as he handed me the keys, he laughed as he said “Spiderman to the rescue.” He is quick with a fun quip, so amusing at a time when I was feeling particularly foolish. Or the subtle words of another neighbor the morning after I climbed through a 1st floor window when locking my keys in my new ground floor apartment “You can give me a your key because I keep the keys to many houses here in Piegaro.” A kind, yet obvious way of saying someone saw my silly butt hanging out the window again. How each person reacts to my personal problem of constantly forgetting keys is always so amusing and funny, and carries away my embarrassment for it is sheer beauty, an art!

Of course, this is a nice reaction to my constant crazy ways: folks are generous enough to be bemused, rather than annoyed by me. Oh yes, there have been a couple of folks who were visibly put off by my antics, but there is simply a freshness in those who choose to look at little misfortunes, accidents and foibles in life with bemusement that warms the heart. It is the gift of taking things lightly, which is so important in a world with serious problems which pull at our emotions. It is the fine art putting things into perspective as joyously as possible.

Rounding things out, it is easy to see how all these things artfully come from the root of muse, but the obvious museum, the museum of glass often plays the muse in unique ways. First of all, kudos to the borgo and all who brought about the museum’s founding and its fine curator Chiara who magically bring forth the artist in all who enter. The Museo del Vetro, Museum of Glass, not only has a wonderful well-thought presentation of over 700 years of glassmaking, but they inspire new artists with demonstrations, classes, concerts, meals, markets, and more. This year’s glass festival, Days of Glass, had over 10 artists at work creating their glass art from stained glass, to etching, to blowing, and more. Folks eagerly watched the artists in their creative process, but they too were given an opportunity to be the artists, as they challenged the onlookers to take photos, from their perspectives of the creation of art. Frequently there are classes in various art forms utilizing glass. This year alone I have weaved the straw fiaschi around glass bottles, etched glass, made jewelry, and created an “infiorata”: flowers framed under glass, and I even missed many more classes offered. The classes amused me, bemused me for ways to get out of creative messes, were muses for writing and gave me a wonderful sense of the beauty of the history and important place of glass in this community. Total beauty!

Have you had a muse in your life? What/who amuses you and why? Have you ever experienced a bemusement that lifts your spirit from a low place? What kinds of museums touch your sense of awe and beauty? How do you give thanks for all the art, beauty and wonder around you?