My ideals for Quarantine 4/2020

My ideals for Quarantine 4/2020

Like so many other times in my life, I had great and momentous plans for this Covid-19 shelter-in-place order. It happens, often, that if we are evacuating because of a hurricane, I will gather several “projects” to take up my time as we await the storm’s passage. Also, inevitably, the tasks are forsaken, in favor of my worrying about all the noise, worrying about my loved ones and awaiting the dark panels to be removed to reveal blessed light.

  I had planned to emerge from this time of confinement, appearing just as a butterfly emerges from a cocoon with resplendent wings, trailing behind me.

A new “lithe” creature would emerge, (no longer the round munching caterpillar). People would no longer wonder which was my head and which was my tail. I would have all of the wisdom of the Hermit (in the Tarot deck) with the erudite reserve of the High Priestess (again, Tarot).

My complexion would be dewy and colored with better habits and new resolved.

 Most of that is not happening (at least not for me).

Although I have been working on them, my two primary projects are not completed. Why?

I’m sure it’s distraction. The same reason it was not completed before confinement.

 I have (believe it or not) lost a small amount of weight.

Why?

Because of dental issues which forced upon me a root canal and excruciating TMJ.

So I don’t look lithe. I’m puffy from all of the medications to treat the issues.

Better skin care (to the cellular level) has not occurred;

My skin is not dewy with renewal.

Why?

Because, between the anxiety and the physical pain, I run out of energy to attend to the more cosmetic aspects of my person.

I had plans to learn Zoom and embark on conducting meetings for Tarot and other things.

Oddly enough, Walt has been successful at embarking on that…but not me.

I find myself purchasing new wardrobe items,

and then telling myself “you are not living in the NOW, Kim”

Like my grandmother, I find myself mopping the floor, like an intern in a typhus unit,

Like somehow THAT will help. –On a side note, my grandmother once had a new floor installed in her home, and 3 months later (because the floor was still under warranty) the company installed a new floor because my grandmother cleaned the finish off the floor by mopping it every day-true story).

I bake and bake…mostly bread.

It’s as if my passion has suddenly come into fashion.

The people who told me they don’t eat bread are now asking me for advice on purchasing

 A bread-maker and recipes and yeast proofing procedures.

In all, some things haven’t changed for me.

My day still begins with communion and prayer and ends with gratitude and thanksgiving.

While many people are re-acquainting themselves with the serenity prayer:

Prayer for Serenity

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right
if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen.

                                            Reinhold Niebuhr

I am remembering another prayer offered so long ago.

God, thank you for the things you’ve given (to me).

Thank you for the things you’ve taken away (from me)

But mostly, thank you for the things you’ve left (for me).

Until next time,

May God Bless.

-Kim

It’s Friday, so it’s a Challah-Day!

OK so it’s a play on words, and no, I’m not apologizing.

I began baking bread this morning (this loaf will go out to a friend),

 And working on a Bible Journaling entry and realized, in my mind, the two

Coincide—or maybe collide.

So, I might have alluded this previously (in a blog) and I’m going to do it again.

In the 1980’s my best friend (Jacqueline Schuler) taught me how to bake bread (for my birthday). I found bread baking to be amazing and magical, and she spent all one evening teaching me how to make whole wheat bread, and at the end of it, I was hooked. The following Christmas, my mother and (then) husband purchased a breadmaker for me (one pound loaf) at $99 it was a steal (from K-mart) and probably the most expensive gift my (then) husband had ever given me (and yes, that includes my wedding ring).

But I digress.

Later, I attended a 24 hour retreat in Orlando, called “Womanrest”.

The coordinator of this Episcopal retreat facility was (oddly) Jewish.

She provided a ritual to kick off our retreat,

 the center piece of which was a giant Challah.

It was soft and sweet and holy.

Upon returning home I sought out all of the recipes and techniques I could find for this exquisite (and holy) bread. I learned to braid, and made some

Beautiful (if I say so, myself) breads.

To this day, my choice for a “gift bread” is a Challah bread.

In the light of this, Fridays bring two moods to me that are (seemingly) in antithesis to each other and yet, entwine in me, like the strands of the Challah braid. Friday mornings, my brain (if not my actual body) sets to the task of the bread I will make for the day, and to whom it will be gifted.

The second “mood” in me, seems to be also a kind of spin-off on the Shabbatt concept (if I had it correct in my mind, and I am not sure that I do)

Time to relax. Enjoy your home. Make good food. Have chicken and chicken soup. Make some wonderful bread. Cocoon. 

In parts of my mind, I am walking down the abandon halls of Satellite High School on a Friday afternoon with the strands of the Four seasons playing through my head (or the Bee Gee’s Night Fever). Feeling as though the weekend held nothing but promise for me. It seldom did, actually. I belonged to a choral ensemble (The Ten Tones) so we likely had a performance or two on a weekend. I also held a part-time job.

But I digress.

In that time at the Womanrest retreat I learned several things;

Among them: Rest can be holy and lovely.

Bread can be Holy and lovely.

 If these two can join together in your soul.

Life can be Holy and lovely.

Until next time,

Wash your hands,

Wear your mask.

Plant some seeds.

Eat some wonderful bread.

-Kim

A Kind word from a long-time friend

A Blog

A Kind word from a long-time friend

Recently, I watched the Netflix Mini-series Self-Made. It is inspired by the life of Madam CJ Walker, a woman who produced the first nationally distributed hair products for women of color. Her products are still produced today.

During this series, (spoiler alert) Ms. Walker has a lapse in judgement where she goes to bed with her ex-husband. Upon morning light, she says to herself

“Never go back to the place that broke you.”

My blog, this time has to do with that theme.

Some of you might know that (at least two years) ago, Walt and I were ousted from our home church of 5 years. During the time in that church, Walt led Bible studies, we both participated in Emmaus events. At one point, I led the prayer ministry.

We baked communion bread for World communion day.

We participated in the puppet ministry.

After the (then) Pastor so effectively made us feel “unwelcome”, Walt and I did not seek another church. We visited a couple of churches. But really haven’t sought another.

When a new Pastor came to our (former ) home church, we received much encouragement to return to our (former) home church. Comments such as “You can come back, Pastor Pam is gone” were routinely spoken to us, when we ran into church members.

After much prayer and consideration, we attended Ash Wednesday service, this year. Then began to follow this pastor’s devotionals. He seemed to be kind and sincere about being “honored” to be the pastor and how God loves us all.

So , Walt and I made an appointment to speak with the new(est) pastor about re-uniting with the church.

After stating (quite blatantly) what I do for a living, the Pastor told us that he wanted to know our “side “ of things. After mentioning a smattering of mis-deeds to which the previous pastor subjected us, the pastor announced that he doesn’t agree with what I do for a living either. He proceeded to tell me that I was “bucking 2000 years of church tradition” . He was confused about what the previous pastor actually did. He told us she had told us about a Psychic-medium that was in the church and that she “got them out” and took it “all the way up the supervisory ladder” to do it. The present pastor began a statement saying “since you had the problem with Pastor Pam”….my ire kicked up, I said “WE had the problem with her…meaning no-one else ever had a problem with her” He chuckled and said “I think we both know that’s not true”.

I was shattered and dismayed to learn that—In the eyes of the church—and it’s representatives, even a pastor who commits illegal acts, is better than a parishioner who doesn’t agree with church policy.

The day after this, Walt and I did what we do every morning. We had communion and prayed together and I was in a recalcitrant mood.

In a supreme moment of enlightenment, I contacted a long-time friend.

She was sympathetic. She was gentle. She was kind.

Despite my anxiety to the contrary, she told me that Walt was very lucky to have me. that I had not forever cleaved him from the body of believers.

She suggested that I try not to confuse faith (belief) with “church politics”.

She suggested some other congregations that we might try (after the confinement is over).

I was met with understanding and grace…something I had hoped to find from a Pastor.

On another note-the Pastor in question (the newer one) had cast question as to whether Walt---believing what he does, and being my husband, was fit for any church leadership---i…e…leading his Bible study that contains some of the church members.

This same Bible study moved from the church grounds to the home of a friend, who is a member of the church board.

Walt (being a man of conscience) felt it incumbent upon him to tell this friend (in brief) about the meeting with the Pastor.

The friend said…in short ,that it made no difference to him what the Pastor said or how he felt about Walt.

Both of the people I’ve mentioned (who were not pastors) are gentle people. Both of them are people whom Walt and I have loved and prayed for and attempted to be encouraging to,

in the past.

Until this happened, I never would have expected these seeds to bare fruit in such a beautiful and fragrant way.

It is in this moment, that I wish to thank Dikki-Jo Mullen, my long-time friend, for being there when I needed a kind word, so desperately.

Also, I wish to thank the host of the Bible Study

that Walt facilitates, Keith.

For the same reason.

Until next time,

Wash your hands,

Wear your mask,

And don’t give up the faith.

-Kim Danbert