Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Nobody dies, anymore.
I don't know if you've noticed it. I have.
No body, and I mean, nobody!
Dies.
Nobody. Dies. Anymore.
They all just....... pass away........ and............. ................ It drives me crazy!
So I just want to say here, that when I die, oh when I'm gone, I will be dead.I promise you, I will never just pass away.
I'm gonna croak.
Shuffle off to Buffalo.
Take the big elevator to the basement.
Join the choir immortal.
Shuffle off this mortal coil.
Kick the bucket.
I shall join the fertilizer business.
Perish.
Get a one-way-ticket.
Give up the ghost.
Get my wings.
I promise you, I will never just pass away. It's too...namby pamby. Etherial.
Too....... insubstantial...... for words.
When I die, I promise you, it will not be without making a big rent in the cosmos. When my heart stops beating, when all that is me is about to take off into the great beyond, I will do all that I can to hang on to the edge of existence, to all that I love, to an atom of creation. I will hang on so tight with one hand that my leaving will cause a great tearing sound to be heard, and, at the same time I will reach out with my other to hold the hand of God so fiercely that it will be as if all of time has screeched to a halt and sped ahead out of control all at once.
If it is said that all I have done is "Pass Away" I shall feel as if my death is being denied. And with it, any possibilities for something new.
It would be as if all that is awe-ful and holy about life and death all future possibilities has been....
has been....
disrespected.
denied.
denied.
Denied.
(did the rooster just crow?)
My death shall be a moment of great import. Clocks shall stop, stars fall from the sky.
All the colors will turn into one, and all the love I have known will pour out into eternity, so that I will become part of those everlasting arms which hold us and all of creation,
hold us in tender loving care.
I will become part of God's heart of justice,
enter the passion from which all of creation springs.
Oh no. There will be no passing away for me.
I shall cash in my chips,
eat it,
dance the last dance,
buy the farm,
sleep with the fishes.
And I will become stardust, (We are not alone)
I will be golden. (We live in God's world, )All shall be well.
(In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us,)
And all manner of things shall be well.
When I die I will find myself,
back in the garden.
Karen Holmes. November 18, 2014.
From my parents living room windows
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Time Keeps on Slippin, Slippin, Slippin, Into the Future.
January 14, 2015.
How has it come to this? I think it was just a minute ago that it was New Years Eve and we were sitting by the fireplace enjoying the evening. Now, just a breath later, it is already the middle of January.
Not only that, but today is my brothers 65th birthday. He is retiring after more than 30 years in ministry..... He is on his way to the last church council meeting of his ministry tonight....at least....probably his last. Unless he decides to do some interim work/supervision for the presbytery/does some consulting in congregations/gets active in his local congregation.....it will be his last council meeting tonight.
It's odd to think of getting to the last month of ministry, to be wrapping up a lifetime of vocation in a few short days. Giving away books is one of the spiritual practices common for clergy retirement. We all discover the tomes which have filled office shelves are as easy to dispose of as, well, so much that shows up in garage sales. Kind of old and tatty, some old but seemingly never used books are as popular with friends and family and parishioners as...well...last weeks leftovers in the back of the fridge. Yet the announcement that " Rev. So and So has placed books in the narthex for any who would wish them" is as good notice as any that retirement is about to occur.
How do we prepare to let go? To empty out our office, to cull the back up copies of sermons we might be able to pull out and use again if we edit out the dated bits and add in the bits which bring the message into the current context. To bid farewell to beloved souls whose lives are nearing their end and whose funeral will be presided over by someone else? How do we weigh the outcome of years of listening, prayer, visiting, eating casseroles in the church hall, preparing funerals and weddings and meeting with couples to prepare for their newborns baptism? Other than a few extra inches in our waistline and a few extra wrinkles in our foreheads, much of what we do makes ripples in the world, much as a stone in a pond. It isn't long before the surface smooths out. As if we were never there?
Perhaps not. Perhaps it is the mystery of that mirror-like surface of the water, which we know can churn in the wind, freeze solid in the bleak mid-winter, bring soothing delight to those who will dare plunge in during the early days of summer heat. There is mystery and awe and transcendence to be found as we look over the surface of the days we have spent. Of all that has been and is now and will be. Like the spirit of God, the waters of baptism, under which we are all made one, flow over us, bringing our days to life. And as we look back at all that was, the smooth surface glints back at us in the light of the sun.
"Fly Like An Eagle" --Steve Miller Band
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution
Feed the babies
Who don't have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin' in the street
Oh, oh, there's a solution
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
How has it come to this? I think it was just a minute ago that it was New Years Eve and we were sitting by the fireplace enjoying the evening. Now, just a breath later, it is already the middle of January.
Not only that, but today is my brothers 65th birthday. He is retiring after more than 30 years in ministry..... He is on his way to the last church council meeting of his ministry tonight....at least....probably his last. Unless he decides to do some interim work/supervision for the presbytery/does some consulting in congregations/gets active in his local congregation.....it will be his last council meeting tonight.
It's odd to think of getting to the last month of ministry, to be wrapping up a lifetime of vocation in a few short days. Giving away books is one of the spiritual practices common for clergy retirement. We all discover the tomes which have filled office shelves are as easy to dispose of as, well, so much that shows up in garage sales. Kind of old and tatty, some old but seemingly never used books are as popular with friends and family and parishioners as...well...last weeks leftovers in the back of the fridge. Yet the announcement that " Rev. So and So has placed books in the narthex for any who would wish them" is as good notice as any that retirement is about to occur.
How do we prepare to let go? To empty out our office, to cull the back up copies of sermons we might be able to pull out and use again if we edit out the dated bits and add in the bits which bring the message into the current context. To bid farewell to beloved souls whose lives are nearing their end and whose funeral will be presided over by someone else? How do we weigh the outcome of years of listening, prayer, visiting, eating casseroles in the church hall, preparing funerals and weddings and meeting with couples to prepare for their newborns baptism? Other than a few extra inches in our waistline and a few extra wrinkles in our foreheads, much of what we do makes ripples in the world, much as a stone in a pond. It isn't long before the surface smooths out. As if we were never there?
Perhaps not. Perhaps it is the mystery of that mirror-like surface of the water, which we know can churn in the wind, freeze solid in the bleak mid-winter, bring soothing delight to those who will dare plunge in during the early days of summer heat. There is mystery and awe and transcendence to be found as we look over the surface of the days we have spent. Of all that has been and is now and will be. Like the spirit of God, the waters of baptism, under which we are all made one, flow over us, bringing our days to life. And as we look back at all that was, the smooth surface glints back at us in the light of the sun.
"Fly Like An Eagle" --Steve Miller Band
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution
Feed the babies
Who don't have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin' in the street
Oh, oh, there's a solution
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
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