popsicles and Jesus

Before our service started at House for All  this evening, someone asked me if “she” did this every week, as if our liturgy were a one-woman show that Nadia performs. I explained to her that, yes, we have worship here every Sunday at 5PM. Truth is, it takes a village to pull off this near flash-mob of a gathering every week. We set it all up, then we take it all back down and put it away. Lots of people pitch in to make it work.
This was right on the heels of the question, “what’s with the popsicles?”, which tasted of lemony judgement to me. I talked of hospitality and how it’s hot in the parish hall during the summer and the popsicles are a fun pre-service treat to help people cool off. I felt all angst-y inside.
As we entered our time of Open Space, which is a time of reflection after the sermon, I wandered into the sanctuary, as is my current practice. I walked my usual route, down the north side of the room, across the back to the font, dipping my hand and making the sign of the cross on my forehead before taking a seat in the back row on the far side for a few minutes of solitude. Soon a couple dozen people entered the sanctuary, not necessarily quietly. The space seemed heavy and filled with quiet chatter and restlessness, which I would later relate to someone as the feeling of “someone looting my holy space.” As if it belongs to me.
After communion, I bolted out, jumped in my car, and quickly drove to another church on the other side of town. The church I am a part of is part of the Rocky Mountain Synod of the ELCA. Tonight we installed a new bishop. Like chewing gum dissolving in your stomach, this doesn’t happen very often. The retiring bishop had held this office for 18 years.
Somehow, I was able to stay present for all of it. Yes, there was liturgical dance, which I find annoying. And song upon song that I did not know. But there was absolution for my dark heart. There was liturgy. And the creed. And the Eucharist. And a growing realization that this faith thing is bigger than any of us, even when we feel all grumbly inside.
So, yeah, it made me want to keep making room for others at the table. Even if we have to explain our popsicles.

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my salon-style wall

I have more art than I do wall space around here. I’m certainly not complaining about the wealth of windows and the natural light they allow, but if I had more wall space I’d certainly use it up. I decided to take a short wall in my kitchen and create a salon-style wall. Still have a couple of small spaces that will be home to the right piece at the right time, but after playing around with it for a few days I like it.

Some of the pieces are photographs and image transfers of my own, and some are works by others, including the first piece of original art I ever bought (2nd from the top, left side, a print from Melissa Springer’s Important Things show in the early 90s), and a painting by my friend Paul Soupiset, who designed my Pantocrator tattoo (just below the ‘9’), among others. Hazy iPhone shot, yes, but the intention is to share the layout.


how do I spend my lunch these days?

I steal away to my car for half an hour and read. This.


welcome back, photo of the day

Image

I’m reviving the Photo of the Day for September. Yesterday Jim, Stuart, and I spent an impromptu evening with Richard and Charlotte. It was everything a relaxing Saturday afternoon/evening should be…dessert first, fresh cherries, roasted okra, discussion around the table about books,  pizza and a movie. Followed by watching the moon rise from the hot tub. I should really have a photo of the amazing peach galette that Richard made, accompanied by homemade peach ice cream, but it was devoured too quickly.