Bringing Two Worlds Together

When I entered a time of sabbatical in Italy it was good to be able to continue my connection to the Church of Mary Magdalene/Mary's Place through spiritual writings with the women of Mary's in my heart. But it was a true gift of God to be presented with a new Italian Sister who has the same love of God and care for others in Roberta Niccacci. Soon after we met she said she was sure God had brought us together because she was looking for an American partner to participate in her business of caring for others, in the spirit of this land of saints, and in the beauty of this region known for its amazing art.

It all began with an idea of using the art of the region, specifically the ceramics of Deruta, gifted for the purpose of benefiting an American agency that offers great care and service, Mary's Place/Church of Mary Magdalene, and modeling how business can be at its best a service of care. Now that we have been brought together through the sacred coincidence of God, Roberta's initial idea of bringing together her business with a caring American Service Provider is happening. On October 22, 2011 at the Church of Mary Magdalene's "Hats and Tea" handpainted Deruta pottery of the CAMA workshop were auctioned, as well as tea cups gifted in return for those who gave to Church of Mary Magdalene generously, as the sharing begins.

But the sharing doesn't end there, on Wednesday May 16th at Mary's Place Spring Luncheon there will also be beautiful handpainted art offered as a gift to generous givers, as the spirit of sharing and caring continues. Having a dozen years of relationship with Mary's it is special for me to be able to take the story of the women into this amazing world of God's and find people like Roberta who are excited about sharing this one Spirit of hope, care and love through generosity. We all need one another, whether close or far away, and the more we share the closer we are.

A New Chapter Starts Here – Prayerful Heart

Faith, Hope, and Love are all we need, the greatest being Love…. Yet wars continue, strife continues, poverty continues, to mar the world with sorrow. Many people struggle to find meaning and purpose in this broken life, like me many seek it through their faith. Many, like me, will experience an event or a series of events that take them away from the institutional church they belong to when the answers seem to be lost there, answers they feel inside their hearts but not inside the walls of a church they once called home.
As a child living in a very broken family I always prayed, can’t think of a time I didn’t pray. It did not make the horrors of beatings and abuse rapidly go away, but it certainly changed me, and eventually those horrors did go away. The prayer strengthened me for the often difficult journey of life, and although my life may have been unusually traumatizing, I know that no life is easy, and all need strength to get through. We need the invisible to see us through the hardships we see.
Something happened when I was just 6 that changed my life forever, I went to my grandmother’s funeral. I remember vividly sitting next to my aunties as they prayed, everyone prayed in unity, aloud. We were Catholic, and the sisters all knew all the prayers and for me it was magic, prayer was something we all did, WE….it was hopeful! A sharing of the Spirit, a sharing of love, a showing of faith within the promise of hope.
To me this is when we are at our best, people, families, the church, all together in prayer and the sacred mystery of what unites us. Yet, often in our churches we get tied to earthly concerns, about the numbers and how to bring in people, instead of how to continue to invite God, Christ and Spirit…. It is as if the most important guests at the table become minor players, not just in church, but in the whole of life. For our stories are never about “the church” but they are about living through life’s journey, a life we have been gifted with that is all too brief here, and all to mysterious to ponder when contemplating eternity. We have been gifted with something too big for us to hold alone, we need, NEED that which is greater than ourselves, God.
At this time I return to theological studies, as I re-enter the Catholic Church of my family, although different because it is here in Italy. My studies are inviting me to keep going to the mystery, the miracle and the hope of the resurrection, a faith bound in a love beyond the logical and reasonable world. It is a welcome place for my soul at this time, it is a returning home.

How does the Mystery Call You?
Where does the Mystery take you?
Is God a Mystery beyond all knowing for you, and if so how is that comforting?

Return of the Celtic Menace

Learning to speak a language is one thing, however after living in the community of Piegaro off and on for over a year now, people are not just asking about my learning of the language, but do I want to be Italian. I would never have thought that people who have an ancestry that goes back thousands of years in this countryside would ask a newcomer this question. Knowing so many immigrants over the course of my life in the United States, that seemed normal in a new country, but struck me as odd in this ancient land. How I got to Piegaro has been a subject of discussion for a while, we are all sure it is God’s doing, but why does this place feels like home is something some of us have talked about.

My friend and Italian sister, has been convinced for months that somehow my blood was calling me home to this place. Her first idea was that my place of birth being in Europe was important. Then came the issue of my brown eyes, which were not reflective the celtic and northern European lineage, I had decided they must be a result of the Roman conquests into Britain, but possibly the Spaniards into Ireland...and then, and then we did a little road trip from Rome north along the Mediterranean into Tuscany and back to beautiful Piegaro. Ahhhh, now my Italian sister is sure that my brown eyes are not Roman, but Etruscan which is why I am here, living in Piegaro.

In our travels north it was insisted upon that we visit a historical town away from the sea, Torquina. It is the southern-most Etruscan city, not in Tuscany or Umbria, but rather in the Roman state of Lazio. As we wandered through the museum there were the words that would be my new namesake “Celtic Menace” they had invaded from the north in the 4th century, and their influence is evident throughout the city. In Celtic style crosses, earthy/nature symbols, and in patterns in the stonework, their influence is easily seen.

This new story seemed to be the opposite of the rape and pillage image of Roman invaders leaving poor unsuspecting waifs carrying brown-eyed children into the family line. No my beautifully romantic Italian friend dreamt of a vision of the Celts coming into this land, loving its people and bringing them home to the emerald isles in their embrace. My newfound home of Piegaro is in the center of Etruscan lands, and my friend is sure that something in my blood flows from here. It is a very tangible and romantic view that could give me a literal history that would tie me to this soil.

Yet, my older lady friends don’t ask questions of heritage, they just ask if….if I want to be Italian. They seek to know how I feel. They are living very much in the present. They also have scolded me on a couple of occasions on my reaction to the overtly flirtatious things men say. They want to teach me not only the Italian language, but how to be a strong Italian woman, men would never say that sort of thing to them they say. WE need to teach you Italian! Beyond the words into the way of being, slowly they are doing just this is, as guide me through the fields in search of the food God has provided for free for the taking, in gathering in community to clean and sort such food for future use, and in the sharing of food, a café here, freshly prepared local specialties there. It was welcoming for me to be able to participate in these activities and for the women to note I did like their simple life, their life tied to the earth, and they ask, do you want to be Italian? I feel welcomed and blessed.

It is as my dear sister says, my blood has called me, my soul soars here. The Celtic Menace has returned and found a place among the Etruscans, a place where our worship is one long prayer of miracles, where our attachment to the earth is peaceful, and where the love of mischief and longing for relationship seem to go hand in hand. Ah those darn Etruscans, and those menacing Celts, it feels good to return to this soil insieme, together with my dear friends!
What do you know, or want to know of your cultural or historical background?
Who do you want to be?
How do you self identify, and see your soul in this identification?

Birds of the Air

Without tv here in Italy it is easy for me to look outside for amusement in the evenings, but made especially easy by the presence of the beautiful swallows who arrived in the spring. As I sit on the terrace watching the sunset they fly in amazing patterns and so close to me at times it makes me wince and grin in amusement. Their beauty, strength and precision are awesome. It is more wonderful than anything humans can create for television or other amusement.

It is not hard to feel the presence of God’s creation in watching them soar, dive and fly. Set this against a beautiful sunset over the rolling hills and it is not hard to appreciate how wonderful life truly is. For me it has also prompted the reflection on the passage in scripture where Jesus reminds the disciples that the birds of the air do not worry, why should we. Worry, one of the greatest preoccupations of humans everywhere, in economic hard times it is even more evident, causing disease, conflict and depression in people.
An easy word for me to remember in Italian is spero: hope, because it sounds just like sparrow the bird, and as I watch the birds in flight it gives me hope. Hope is the opposite of worry, it is the beautiful sense of promise and grace always with us. Watching God’s beautiful birds in flight one senses this promise and understands why Jesus would use these amazing creatures for this metaphor of hope, for a reminder to put aside worry.

Where do you experience the hope of God?
How do you allow the words of Jesus, of not worrying about tomorrow, to enter your life?
What do you think of when you see birds in flight, sunsets and other wonders of God?

Quick Update - Two weeks Speaking, Two weeks Silent

It has been two weeks since I last wrote, and two weeks since I actually started speaking Italian in public. It has been a great time of reflection and living in the moment, something that was my goal for this Sabbatical time. Much has come from this gift of time God has given me to be in rest and prayer. The greatest reflection is that I am definately coming back, I have my return ticket. The second reflection is that I will be returning to the faith of my family, of my ancestors and will be converting to Catholicism here in Italy upon my return in July. The cultural difference between Piegaro, which is a unique village in Italy, and the United States is vast and what my heart yearned for for Sabbatical, but also for life and living.

In the past few days as I prepare to return to Seattle my friends here have noted that I look tired, which is very true, the thought of returning to what was my life in the states is tiring for me. I am so excited to see my kids, whom I miss terribly, but I can say the most alive I have felt in years was in having Katy with me here and in sharing my friends and life with them via Skype. To introduce my precious children to my new community has been the greatest gift. The combining of my greatest loves.

It is a life of promise, hope and miracles for me. Do I know what is going to happen tomorrow or the next day, NO...do I have romanticized ideas, NO....heck I don't even have romance, but instead there is a love of God and place that is always feeding my soul here. Thus, there is promise, hope and miracles do happen.

It will be good to be mama for my baby boy as he celebrates graduation and faces surgery in the coming weeks, to be with my daughter again is always a gift: I will always belong to my children.

Life is new for me here, a resurrection of faith and hope. God is Good Everyday!!

Miracles Can Happen…Have Happened…Do Happen Every Day

One of the great differences I experience in the faith life here in Italy is the daily importance of recognizing miracles. Whether in the lives of Saints, such as Padre Pio, certainly in the life of Mary and Jesus, but miracles are also an important presence here in the village. Each year as they celebrate the great spiritual miracle of the 1700’s with a procession on May 11. Way back when a priest arrived in Piegaro and noted the lack of participation in worship here, and left behind a crucifix, a thing of beauty, when he left town without much success. Although the priest had little success, Jesus was still at work, the wooden figure of Jesus began to sweat, but not only sweat, but to bleed from the wounds on this beautiful carving. People returned to their faith,returned to church. Where a human could not convince, God rendered a miracle through the artful image of Jesus, a miracle.

Each year in the village there is a worship that overflows the church as all gather to recognize the wonder of God. Every year the priest reminds the people that miracles happen every day, God is alive here in Piegaro and in our world. The service includes the miracle that is celebrated daily, the Eucharist, of taking Christ within, of the power of God to work in our very beings to become as Christ, to love our neighbors as ourselves. A beautiful miracle that is offered to us every day. To have salvation.

This year it was a gift to actually participate in the procession, not simply follow it. The women lead the way, in the middle is the priest, Don Augusto and a beautiful crucifix, followed by the men and all those who wish to walk at the end. The Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary, traditional songs and other prayers are recited during the walk. It is as beautiful to hear as to see, with people of all ages taking part, from babies in strollers to the elders in the community. The weather was amazing this year, nothing short of glorious. One miracle for me is that I now know the words to the prayers, the next miracle will be the songs, ahhhh bella!!

I have had colleagues in the past ask for a meaning of salvation while in America. This troubled me at the time because my own life was so profoundly changed when I received my first communion, when I followed the spirit of God in my life. For me I had experienced a childhood of domestic violence and with faith came courage to report the abuses, I was physically saved. But the miracle that was more powerful in my life was the affirmation of my souls call to love God and neighbor and be at peace with this. For quite a while it concerned me that another pastor would question salvation. Then it hit me, so often in American culture we lean more on logic and reason than on faith.

When the founding fathers of America sat down to form the first congress they had before them a bible, but not even the Bible most of us know, they had Deist bible, in that age of reason all of the miracles had been removed from the text. When Jesus was crucified, there was no resurrection. No healings, no Red Sea crossings, and Paul did not experience Jesus on the road to Damascus, it was a short book. But the start of this nation, its very history, DNA and culture are founded on these basic truths. It will take a miracle for the faith in all things being possible through Jesus to happen in setting.

Thank God miracles happen every day, because there are so many people of faith in America who do see the presence of God alive. But here, here in Piegaro, through the constant reminder of the presence of miracles, I have found much healing through the spirit of faith in that which is unseen than ever before. For me is simply a miracle to be here, to come to know greater of the wonder of worship with Santa Maria, to be in a place that is healing for so many people similar to myself, new arrivals to the community.

In the procession, in the prayers, and in the healing are the experiences of God’s wondrous miracles here in Piegaro which happen every day.
How do you experience God’s miracles through worship?
How do you experience God’s miracles through people?
How do you experience God’s miracles through places special to you?
How do you experience God’s miracles through Jesus, Holy Spirit, and Mary?

Mother Mary and Mother’s Day

It was not quite Mother’s Day, but the Saturday before when Mary, mother of Jesus, mother of all was present in oh so many ways. God unfolded the day before me with a sense of mothering love. The morning started beautifully with a visit to my dear neighbor Maria Pia, who was in the hospital. To see her with color in her face and chatting delightfully, telling stories of her life in Piegaro was enjoyable, she is a caring soul, a reminder of mothering love which endears so many of us newcomers to this village. It was wonderful to hold hands for over an hour, and look into her beautiful eyes full of stories of love for her home and people. Beautiful.

When my friend and I left the hospital it was decided we should visit more this town Città della Pieve, and it was Market Day, a perfect day to explore. As we entered town my friend noted an open door of an old church, we entered into a beautiful sanctuary with a fresco by pre-renaissance artist Perugino, with Mary holding her son Jesus after his death in her gentle embrace. The stone steps to the confession boxes are worn with centuries of souls who have come to pour out their souls in this church honoring the Madonna. It was easy to feel the mothering love of Mary for her son Jesus; son of God, savior. The love of Mary for her son as a mother, you could feel her love and pain as she held her child in her arms.

The next church we entered was the sanctuary of the Madonna of Fatima. In this beautiful church we see how the love of Mary has touched so many globally in her mothering care. In art and words the story of her appearance to children in many lands of God’s great world embraces and brings hope. For me it was natural to light a candle for all the women who have offered loving mothering care who were not my physical mother, but mothers nonetheless. It is a gift to experience the loving care of women who nurture and guide us in the spirit of Mary, caring for all of God’s children as in the day of Pentecost. To pray to this wonderful soul, ahhhhh, peace.

We ran into friends from Piegaro on our return to the car, and I felt God was good to provide us with the food of the market, and to see friendly familiar faces; a feeling of home. How God brings us home. One of the hardest things about being in Italy is missing my dear children, and here in Italy I am blessed with a teen-age roommate who upon our arrival back in Piegaro invited me for a walk, more my routine than hers. She needed a bit of mothering, and it was so nice to feel that connection of being a mother here, and praying my children were having similar experiences in Seattle. When Lila took photos of me later, it would remind me of the days of Katy taking pictures, in her care and in the quality of pictures taken with a loving eye. To share the afternoon with Lila and her dear boyfriend, my heart was warmed with the sense of familiarity, and how we are all family in God’s world.

The lovely day was ended with an evening concert of the children, a wonderful tradition here the day before festa della mama, that the school children sing and play music. To see the families and hear the children was a treat. But there was also a surprise to be had for me in the concert as well as the last group of older children sang a few songs in English, and their last English song was “O Happy Day, when Jesus washed my sins away.” God in infinite grace had the children sing the only “church” song I had yet to sing at the stream, on Easter, while remembering the lovely ladies of Church of Mary Magdalene. A beautiful little miracle that took my heart world-wide in joy.

I would find out the next day that Elida, one of the great matriarchs and mothers of the village had passed into the realms of heaven within an hour of the finish of the concert. I thought what an appropriate exit from this world, to join the heavenly hosts while family and friends were away, to be in peace with Mary, Jesus, God and Holy Spirit on the weekend honoring mothering and family. It made me think of all the prayers of the day:

Prayers for mothering souls in need of care.
Prayers for mothers of those who suffer, as Mary.
Prayers for those who have provided mothering care, as Mary.
Prayers for my children that they may have mothering care when I am gone.
Prayer of gratitude for young people I have been blessed to mother, my own and those who God has gifted me with.
Prayer for the children who offer their gifts of song and joy.
Prayer for those who go before us, always inspiring us in the loving spirit of Mary.