Singer, Song, and Responder

It is spring, a cool spring but spring all the same.  The trees have put out their flowers and/or leaves, and the birds have returned.  One recent morning, listening to a bird singing, I had a little epiphany.  That bird's brain and vocal apparatus evolved so it could sing this particular song to ears that evolved to hear it and a brain shaped to respond to it.

The song shaped both singer and listener and both singer and listener shaped the song.  The singer could not have sung a song that did not fit the shape of its throat or the sound of its voice.  A song the other could not receive or respond to would not have been sung for long.  There was a co-evolution of those three entities- singer, song, and responder.

I have been thinking about this in relation to my sense of calling, which has changed a great deal since I first heard it, as a child.  At first it just confused me because I grew up in a religion where, as female, I could not respond to it.

Many years later, after finding a religion where I could respond to that call, I heard that song again.  Had Spirit been singing it all along?  Had I stopped listening, tuning it out because of my inability to respond, or had the song stopped altogether?  Had the song changed so I could hear it, or had my situation changed to allow me to perceive it?   Both?  Sometimes I think too much and it makes my head hurt.

When it first came back my calling niggled at me - and I tried to resist it.  After all, I'd been pursuing a career as an academic for years - all those years in graduate school.  I didn't want to jettison all that effort and time.   Gradually it grew louder, or so it seemed - more insistent, harder to resist.

The first time I stood in the pulpit to share a sermon with my minister it was clear as clear, "This is what I was meant to do with my life."  My call came from and to the pulpit.  At that point it felt like there was no choice but to respond.  It was like an instinct, as irresistible to me then as singing that song was to that bird this spring.  Within a month I was filling out applications to seminary.

Looking back after eight years of experience, it feels like my calling has been tuning me, all along.  Both that song and its mysterious singer have pushed, pulled and coaxed me to change substantially as a person and as a minister.  They have tuned me to serve as I do, which changes at least some of those I serve, who in turn change me.  My sense of the source of my call has also changed.  Is it possible that Singer changes too?  I believe it does.  There are layers to this, strata that I suppose are like harmonies, to stretch the metaphor a bit further.  The song is complex.

Maybe we only hear parts of it at different points in our lives.  Maybe we will never hear the whole thing.  Maybe that doesn't matter, given that what we do hear can be this beautiful, this difficult, this challenging, this amazing.  Maybe what matters is hearing what we can hear, and responding as best we can in the moment, knowing that our response may change us enough to hear another part of song.

Much has been happening beneath the surface of my life in recent months.  I have not posted a great deal lately because it is taking a while for it all to rise to the surface.  That requires periods of less busy-ness (which I have not had) and time alone for me. As an introvert, I need solitude to hear, feel, realize.  When you listen, what do you hear?  Is that different from what it used to be?  Has your voice changed over time?

Our Daily Bread

Where oh where has the Rested Reverend been? What has she been doing?  Well, my dears, when not busy working I have been practicing deep self care by fixing up my house!  First, some "back-story" then I'll pick up where I left off....

Early this year I spent two days on retreat at a Benedictine monastery where they worship several times a day.  Of course we said the "Our Father" or the "Lord's Prayer" together. Now, growing up in Catholic home and school, I said that prayer thousands of times, but this time, "give us this day our daily bread" jumped out at me.


My lectio divina group has trained me to use a certain practice when words strike me.  I think about what the words mean, how they touch my life at the moment, and what Spirit might be calling me to do or to become through those words.

After that service at the Abbey, I started contemplating what "daily bread" might mean for me. Of course these words have a literal meaning for those who are hungry.  They also have a broader, more metaphoric meaning, "give us each day what we need to nourish our bodies, minds, hearts, and spirits."  Many of us take so much more than we really need, which is part of why others are hungry.


But in some ways, we may take much less than what we need to nourish ourselves.   In one version of the story, before he teaches the prayer, Jesus says Spirit knows what we need before we ask. Does Spirit know when we are not asking for enough? Might it be a bit displeased when we do take less than we need?


There’s a poem by Wendell Berry about two feasts. At one, people shove each other out of the way in order to get to the table, and then they stuff themselves greedily. At the other feast, people hang back from the table, reluctant to take anything.  When they do they just nibble at it.  Berry suggests that Source is not pleased with either extreme.  We have a banquet in this world – we should neither shove nor demure.


When I take less than what I need, I end up feeling exhausted, depleted, and cranky.  That doesn’t serve me, nor anyone around me. So I started thinking about what my "daily bread" might be.  What do I need to nourish my body, spirit, mind, and heart?  


Being me, I made a list. My daily list includes sufficient sleep, adequate and healthy food, exercise, loving interactions with others, beauty, order and cleanliness in my home, and beauty in general (or rather, mindfulness of it because it is all around), and of course meditation and prayer. Some things I need, but not every day, include meaningful work, creativity, and intellectual stimulation.  


Making a list is satisfying but not enough.  It’s a starting point.  I started this blog partly to keep myself honest about living it. Spending time with people I love was already in place, as was regular meditation and prayer, creativity, intellectual stimulation and  of course meaningful work. The next step was to try to get to bed at least nine hours before I need to wake up.  I do that most days now.  I started exercising but to be honest, far from daily.  I have been eating more healthfully.

Cleaning house is not my favorite (especially vacuuming), and slips easily.  However, realizing a clean house is part of my daily bread inspired me to make time to clean my home every week – even if it’s just giving it “a lick and a promise” as my mom says.  It turns out cleanliness is next to godliness, or at least pretty darn close, in my book.  Okay, so that brings us up to my last post, which was shortly after having two days off in a row.


The next week I had two days off in a row again.  This made me a bit giddy.  Looking at my furniture all winter, especially the love seat someone gave me 13 years ago that is uglier than sin (well, some sins anyway) had me dissatisfied.  Watching one of those shows where people come in, help you sell your stuff, and then redo your rooms had me feeling very inspired.  A potent mixture.


On the first day off I went window shopping for furniture.  I found a love seat and chair that I LOVED plus cute throw pillows to tie them together with my existing couch.  Not only that, I also found a china closet that would solve my kitchen storage problems in a beautiful way.  However, I could not afford any of it.  Sad.


Next day I called my mom, and we chatted.  She asked me what I had planned to do on my day off.  I said I would LIKE to go buy furniture but due to cash flow problems could not.  Guess what?  She said she could float me a loan to cover the cost of all those great things and more!  Hurrah!  Happy!  


Turns out I could only get the living room furniture that day, but it a big difference.  After my son and I carried the uglier-than-sin love seat out to the curb, I did a little hallelujah dance.  Anticipating the china closet, I decided to act on the paint chip that has been hanging in my kitchen pretty much since moving in.  I HATED the colors in there.  


That same night I took down everything in my kitchen down and fixed all the holes.  Then after working a short work day, I painted it this pretty yellow.  I bought other cute things to give it a French country bistro feel. Then the china closet came and voila!  My new kitchen.  I LOVE it.  This is a real photo of my real new kitchen.  

It turns out I don’t hate painting that much. Talk about inexpensive ways to transform a room! Could the living room be far behind?  It could not, given its industrial white that predated the previous tenants.  The problem was choosing the color.  I agonized. What could tie it all together?  In the meantime I rid myself of lots of stuff, to sell at a yard sale to raise more funds for redecorating.  Did I mention OCD?


Then I found the perfect color, "butterscotch."  It seemed like a sign.  I did not wait to have two days off in a row, but bought the really expensive paint that dries quickly, and did the living room in one long afternoon.  The paint looked really orange when I put it on and I thought, "Oh no!  It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!"  But it dried darker.  And it picks up the colors in all my prints - makes them pop.  Here is a real true photo of my new living room.  With the smallest tv ever, my son would say.

That is what I've been up to for the past month. I find myself breathing deep sighs of relief and contentment when I enter my kitchen or living room.  I have already chosen the color for my bedroom, and purchased two new lamps and a print for it.  I have found the most divine chaise lounge, for sale by owner, online.  Hold a good thought for me that it's still available.  


And my house is pretty darn clean, to boot.  Though sometimes I feel too tired to do the dishes at night, I have come to think of it as giving myself the gift of a clean kitchen in the morning.  It is a way to love my self.  And I think Spirit likes it when we find ways to love our selves, as well as others.

My home is becoming a restful, nourishing sanctuary, all because the words “give us this day our daily bread” jumped out at me early this year.  My question to you is this – what is your daily bread?  What do you need to nourish your mind, heart, body and spirit on a daily basis.  Just like our bodies, our spirits need nurture every day.  What nurtures your spirit? How can you incorporate those things into your daily life?  


I encourage you to love yourself enough to gift yourself those things, and to be sure you take just enough. Spirit of Life, give us this day our daily bread.