growing pains...mine or hers?

How do you protect someone who is spreading her wings? When is it time for the mother bird to push her baby from the nest? What happens when the baby jumps before the mother is ready? Are they lost to each other forever? Does the mother try to push the baby back into the nest or does she come alongside her young and help them learn to fly?

The natural world is brutal. So is the human world. Can I live with myself if I do not protect her? Can I even protect her? Nothing is in my control especially this bright, spirited young woman. “You have raised an amazing daughter,” she said to me. “You gave birth to a great person.” She is so right, so when will I trust her? When does she stand up and walk on her own two feet? She was so cautious as a baby; waiting until she was sure she could walk. Watching to see that no one knocked her over. Is she still so cautious? She has learned to walk and now she says she is ready to fly. Will I smother her inside the nest to keep her safe? Or will I let her leap, knowing that she may fall? Lord, help me.

snapshots of spaciousness (sans camera)

"If you don’t plow the earth, it’s going to get so hard nothing grows in it. You just plow the earth of yourself. You just get moving. And even don’t ask exactly what’s going to happen. You allow yourself to move around, and then you will see the benefit." --Ms. Fatemeh Keshavarz

This season of Lent has called me deeper into the need of spaciousness and movement for myself. The theme of holy vessel continues to stir inside me and around me. I am always amazed at how God manifests when I allow myself to be still enough and listen closely. The last two days have been glorious mid-winter days filled with blue skies and crisp air. It has been a much needed respite from the long overcast Seattle days. Yesterday I literally felt hypnotically pulled to get outside and walk toward the Olympic mountains that are offered in full view about a mile from my home. I took my i phone and was able to catch a few shots of spring breaking and snow-capped brilliance in my time out. My walk was narrated by a podcast discussing the poet Rumi, so spiritual images accompanied the visual ones around me.

Today was a very different experience. Again, I strongly felt the desire to be outside and moving my body; this vessel I have been called to pay especial attention to this season. This time, however, I sensed that no outside apparatus should accompany me. No phone. No camera. No i-pod. Just me and my good strong walking shoes. While walking, however, I had an image of Kirsten Dunst in the movie, Elizabethtown, in the scene where she fashions her fingers to take a mental snapshot. It felt really important today to “record” snapshots in my mind even though I was certain they would be forgotten by the time I returned home. That, however, was not the case. Here are a few of the images that met me along my morning sojourn:

A tiny sign upon a fence that said, “Please do not feed Riley. Doctor’s orders.” The sun gleaming on the steeple of a church I had never before noticed. White fruit of the looms flattened in the street. Lavender bikini undies at another spot along the way. (Had someone lost their wash or had the world stripped off its clothes to dance naked in the moonlight?) A “no trespassing” sign attached to a church door. Blue sky. Glistening sun. Tiny chickadees playing in bare tree branches. Red, freshly painted doors. Children playing at the park. People happy to be out in the sunshine. God’s presence everywhere.

This morning I was reminded that it is good to listen. It is good to look at the world around me. It is good to be present. It is good to be a vessel. Where are you being called to empty yourself this season? Where are you being called to be filled? How would you describe your vessel?

night time musings

3:30 a.m. I probably shouldn’t read travel journals before bed. The excitement (and an aching shoulder) keep me awake. The journey. Paris. The details. How will I get to my apartment? My apartment!! I will live in Paris for just over a week. Rue Cler market near my new home. The little details swirl through my head. Can you drink the water? How will I avoid pickpockets? Bus or taxi? Will the drivers speak English?

I see myself rolling my suitcase through the cobblestone streets. Lost or exploring? If I take the Air France bus, my stop will be the Arc de Triomphe. How perfect! It must be done. The grand adventure, awaited a lifetime, coming so quickly. Too soon? No. It is time.

The “before” details. Hair appointment. Pedicure. The right bag. A new journal. Shall I take my favorite pen? Absolutement! I need another camera card. A money pouch. Xerox my documents. Print out instructions. Contact Tess.

What will I plan and what will I simply allow to happen? The surprise. Oh my goodness!! The surprise and adventure of it all. My French is inadequate, but it will be fine. Little movies run through my head. I am encouraged by Alice Steinbach—another woman traveling alone. Shall I take my scissors & glue? Absolutement! French magazines and maps will become my journal. A visual of the time.

What will I do that first day? Walk. Stroll. Wash my face from the all night journey. See the neighborhood. The Arc de Triomphe. The Eiffel Tower. Mona Lisa. (Yes, I have heard she will disappoint and still I need to see her for myself, but not the first day.) Ice cream on the Ile de la Cite. Where will me by favorite café? My favorite patisserie? Will I brave going to dinner alone? Will I make friends? Shall I take tours or do it solo?

That is the fun. I do not have to decide. It is my trip. My journey. Without reservations…or at least with only the necessary ones…the plane and the lodging confirmed. I have two weeks now to prepare. Whew!! I need to get to sleep!

Planning Paris

The plane tickets are purchased, the studio apartment (with free internet, of course) has been rented and for the first time in my life I acquired travel insurance. This is my personal little way of insuring that nothing will happen to keep me from going to Paris ☺. Reverse psychology or something like that, you see?

Thus far everyone I have encountered is delighted and saying “Go! Go! Go!” –with the exception of my 15-year-old daughter who thinks it is she who should be going; and a few friends who think I am nuts to go by myself. (But to be perfectly honest, I think they may just be a little jealous ☺.)

Since this adventure in many ways started with a blog post and I have received nothing less than enthusiastic support from my commenters, it seems only fair that I should keep you up to speed and include you in the plan makings! So, here we go:

Leave Seattle Wednesday, February 27. Arrive Paris Thursday, February 28.
My neighborhood is “in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower”. Don’t you just love that?
I will be returning home on Friday March 7. So, that is eight days and nights in the City of Light. ☺

Now, here is where you come in. A few helpful commenters have already given me “must do’s” for the trip. Your task is to add your own dreams to my list. If you’ve been to Paris before—great! If not, no worries just tell me what you would want to do if you went to Paris. Or perhaps even your favorite movie or book about Paris. Or what you would wear as an American in Paris (or what you wouldn’t wear.) You get the gist of this. You can continue to help me dream, sight see and pack. In return, I promise to take you along on the journey (virtually, of course ☺.)

Here to start the list are a few of my favorite suggestions thus far:

1) Sit in the garden with Rodin’s “The Thinker” on an overcast day. (Theresa)
2) The Musee d’Orsay comes highly recommended by many.
3) See the accessible gargoyles on Notre-Dame and the medieval treasures of the Musee Cluny. (Barbara)
4) Please make sure to touch the small brass ring in the ground in front of Notre Dame to ensure your return to Paris one day. (Pamela)

So, please make your own suggestions and I will add them to the list as we count down to Paris.
(18 days!)

Vessels

Vessels. Mother as vessel. Woman as vessel. Broken. Cracked. Whole. Sacred vessel. Holy vessel. Pregnant with hope and life.

A vessel for the season of Lent. If the vessel is closed, I cannot be fed. If it is poured to overfilling, it may crack. Today my vessel feels empty. No, it has been emptied for Lent with wonder and expectation, but the filling of Ash Wednesday was painful and venomous. I would rather be empty than filled with this poison. I do not enjoy this process of filling and emptying. Especially when my choice feels limited. When a fire hydrant opens and pours into your tiny jar, how can it not be tossed around, cracked or broken?

The choice becomes how to be in the brokenness. How to become a vessel that is open to let in the feelings that need to be felt, but to narrow the opening and not let poison fill me to the top. How do I learn to receive the pain that is mine to receive and not carry the guilt for that which I have no control over?

This season of lent feels so much about tending to my vessel. Being gentle with the cracks while not ignoring them. Mending the breaks that I can. Seeing myself as whole. A sacred vessel. Pregnant with hope and life…some days a little more than others ☺.

How are you called to tend the cracks of life? Have you ever considered yourself as vessel? What will help you stay open to God rather than closing off and obstructing your own pathway?

collage by lucy