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Friday, December 16, 2016

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Christmas Almost Cancelled

I've had Christmases when I was pregnant (twice) and ordered all gifts by mail order.  I've had Christmases when I was recovering from surgery (twice), but still managed to decorate and send cards.  But last year, it just wasn't coming together.  Having had shingles for several months prior to Christmas, then a large crowd at Thanksgiving followed by being gone from Dec. 8 until Christmas Eve, I announced that I was canceling Christmas.  My grandchildren looked like I had lost my mind.

For the first time ever, other than Hallmark ornaments for the grandkids and some old home videos that I'd converted to DVD's for our daughters, I bought nothing.  I did not send out one Christmas card. I jokingly announced to the neighbors I was removing myself from the neighborhood decorating competition.

I even announced to our siblings, nieces, nephews and daughters' in-laws that there would be no packages in the mail and we didn't want any either. I didn't want my neighbors to have to constantly be worrying about what was on our front porch (mail can be held, but FedEx still delivers)

Instead we would be donating the money to charity and wanted our siblings to do the same for us.  For our siblings, we bought sleeping bags and pads for the homeless that a friend was distributing before Christmas.  I tagged them in the photos so they could see what we bought.  For our nieces, nephews and in-laws, we purchased items from the Alternative Christmas.  I then wrote each a card letting them know what was purchased in their honor.

On our travels, I thought what do I really need for Christmas (other than visiting family)?  I need a creche (I found a little wind up one), a lit tree, (about 4 ft tall no decorations) a ham dinner with Sister Schubert rolls, pie and ice cream.  But most important, I need to go to St. Mark Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve.

We started to leave Dec. 22 when I suddenly became ill.  So, Christmas Eve, when I was feeling better, we got up early and left Dallas before 5 AM.  After driving for 10 hours, I went to the grocery (getting the ham, rolls, pie), fixed dinner, got cleaned up and made it to Christmas Eve worship.  As I sat down in the pew with Sue Snyder on one side, Gwen Welch on the other, Nancy Sutch across the aisle and the Webers in front of me, I began to cry---I had made it surrounded by some of my St. Mark Family.  I was satisfied that I had what was important for Christmas---a Simple Christmas not a Cancelled Christmas after all.

Psalm 119: 

Jaclyn Morgan

Finding Joy

 “Joy Lives in the Heart'

I can feel content

With moments of warmth 

And love in my heart,

But, Joy? Living in my Heart?

Is Joy  hiding in the basement,

Afraid to come out?

If Joy lives in the cellar of my heart,

is it packed in a jar on a shelf?

like last summer’s canned tomatoes, 

Waiting to be found and opened.

Or, maybe Joy is waiting to be found

Like a child playing hide and seek.

Maybe I need to go looking for it. . .

Listen for the muffled giggles 

of the anticipation 

of joy feeling  antsy in the darkness,

A little afraid to come out before hearing

The magic words:

“Ollie, ollie, oxen free. 

Come out, Come out

Wherever you are.”

So,do I have the power to find joy 

hidden but 

just waiting for permision to come out?

But, I seem to have forgotten

those magic words.

I hope Joy has the power

to find ME. .. ..

By suddenly popping out 

from the dark shadows of my heart,

Just a little flashlight beam of joy

That I can hold in my hand

Lighting my path.

Christmas Tree

 

Monday, December 17, 2012

Oh, Christmas Tree

From "Thoughts of Advent"
December 14, 1984
Scripture:  Isaiah 61: 3-4, 11

When our children were younger and our yards were bare, we decided to have living Christmas trees to plant and enjoy for many years.  It seemed the perfect solution for my allergy to cut trees, for our lack of trees in the yard, and for the problems of toddlers grabbing at tottering, towering, dried out trees laden with ornaments.  Also, it was in keeping with my fundamental belief in conservation and recycling.



Our first tree is flourishing in Pittsburgh, and four out of five are here in St. Louis.  (We lost one to high winds a year and a half after it was planted.) Although some say we were "lucky," we just followed a few simple rules:  keep the tree in the garage until a week before Christmas; dig your hole early and bring the dirt into the basement.; keep the tree moist and the rootball wrapped in plastic.  Finally, take the tree down a few days after Christmas.  After the tree has spent a few more days in the garage, plant it.

Then, the children and I would decorate it again---this time for the birds---with popcorn, cups of suet, strings of Cheerios, and pinecones dipped in grease and seeds.

This custom is not just a daily reminder of Christmases past, but also a reminder that we were created to be God's caretakers--to nurture the trees and to feed the animals.

Tree update---30 years later, we still have two of our living Christmas trees, one of which towers over our home!

Credo for Advent

 

uesday, December 3, 2019

Credo for Advent

I believe

in angels who watch over me,

in the holy spirit which guides me,

in the DNA of my ancestors influencing who I am,

in inspiration which comes unannounced.

I BELIEVE.

I believe 

in helping others with schooling, health care, food, housing,

in freedom to live with whom and where I want to live,

in discussion not angry words with name-calling and threats,

in families focusing on what they have in common not what keeps them apart,

I BELIEVE in PEACE.

I believe

in clean air, water and soil as God intended,

in saving threatened species which God has created,

in supporting natural energy sources from wind, sun, water

in recycling, composting, re-purposing,

I BELIEVE in the EARTH.

I believe 

in respecting other religious groups,

in welcoming immigrants and refugees,

in being open and willing to learn from those who are different,

in seeing the good in people even if I have to search for it.

I BELIEVE in PEACE on EARTH.

Jaclyn Morgan

Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

A Thanksgiving Memory

 

Thursday, November 21, 2013

A St. Mark Thanksgiving Memory

 Back in the late 1970's or early 1980's we had a Thanksgiving Eve Dinner where we each brought an assigned item: stew, bread, fruit salad, dessert.  When we got to Fellowship Hall, we were assigned seats.  One family sat on the stage at several long tables filled with food set on linen table cloths, candelabras. Many of us sat in folding chairs, with paper covering the tables with one pot of stew, no dessert or fruit.  But most stood crowded around a table covered with newspapers, having to share one loaf of bread

We didn't "get it" at first.  I wasn't that concerned because I'd brought my kids PBJ sandwiches knowing they wouldn't eat stew.  But some were very upset their children wouldn't have much food.  I can recall people approaching the very embarrassed family on the stage begging for food for their children, and that family motioning that others were welcome to take the food.  Still, it was a little humiliating to have to ask for food.  Eventually, the family caught on and started taking food to other tables.

I will never forget the event, but not many remember it. Maybe no one else was there that still belongs.  After awhile, we were told that the family with all of the food represented North America while those of us with chairs were Europe, and those who had to stand with very little food represented Africa.  Most of us walked away a little hungry but with the reminder that Thanksgiving was the next day with a feast, and we Americans had a lot to be thankful for.  

Jaclyn Morgan

Gratitude

 

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Gratitude

 “Gratitude begins in our hearts and then dovetails into behavior. It almost always makes you willing to be of service, which is where the joy resides. It means that you are willing to stop being such a jerk. When you are aware of all that has been given to you, in your lifetime and the past few days, it is hard not to be humbled, and pleased to give back.” 
― Anne Lamott, Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers

Thanksgiving and reading Anne Lamotte's book, got me thinking about Gratitude. Several years ago, my daughter started a year-long journey of documenting on Instagram something she was thankful for each day.  She then had them printed in a book.  The idea came from Ann Vosskamp's book One Thousand Gifts.  Amazon says:

 In One Thousand Gifts, Ann invites you to embrace everyday blessings and embark on the transformative spiritual discipline of chronicling God's gifts. It's only in this expressing of gratitude for the life we already have, we discover the life we've always wanted...a life we can take, give thanks for, and break for others. We come to feel and know the impossible right down in our bones: we are wildly loved--by God. 

I shared this idea with my circle and two of us have taken that journey of finding something to be thankful for each day:  the song of birds, the color of a leaf, lunch with a friend, a penny found on a parking lot.  We used the hashtag #stmarkthankful and #stmarkthankfuljounal to chronicle our journey.

Recently a friend shared on Facebook an article explaining the huge benefit in seeking gratitude.  Click here for the entire article written by a neuro-scientist.  This article says that just seeking things to be grateful for and sharing with friends releases the dopamine that makes us feel better.

As we are approaching winter when many of us have a tendency to get depressed, look for something to be grateful for, share it with others. If you are on Instagram use one of our hashtags. But, if you don't do Instagram, express your gratitude to your spouse, a friend.  Write a note, make a phone call, send an e-mail or keep a written journal.  It's one of those times when science and faith agree being grateful will make you happier.

God in Three Persons: Blessed Trinity

 

God has appeared to me throughout the years, but each time has been like looking through a kalaidoscope—-I see different “faces” of God depending on my stage. As a child, God and the Holy Spirit were too abstract, but Jesus with those warm brown eyes was someone I could look to for guidance, support and love. The hymn “Jesus Loves Me” got me through the times when i felt unloved. Later,I was guided by “what would Jesus do?” when making choices. 

As an adult I was guided more by God, the creator. Hymns like “Holy, Holy, Holy” and “This is my Father’s World”were important to me and my understanding of God who created the beauty of Europe’s cathedrals and the red wood forest.  My God was awe-some, all-powerful.  But HE also was often disappointed in my decisions. It was a time when I was important to myself and only when confronted by a beautiful sunset or the majesty of mountains, was I forced to slow down and reflect on the grandeur of God rather than on myself.

At both stages, I “ignored” the Holy Spirit—-something I associated with “holy roller” churches and speaking in tongues.  Although I had my “conscience” to  guide me as a child, it was often associated with Jimminey Cricket on Mickey Mouse Club who always said, “Let your conscience be your guide.” 

I’ve often felt that my writing is influenced and guided by another entitiy which I always thought of as my muse.  Sometimes my “muse” was relentless, over-powering my dreams and thoughts. Sometime i have to sit quietly in my “thin places” or my patio and let this spirit come to me—-make time for it. prioritize it. not be distracted by “things to do”, but just having quiet time.  It’s so hard for my hyperactive brain and body to “Be still”. As I was older my “muse” helped me with my writing. But was my “Conscience”  or my “muse” really the Holy Spirit living within me?

I’m not sure if it’s my stage or my age but I’ve moved on to understanding the Holy Spirit and the role SHE plays in my faith.  “Ruach”, the sound of wind, is the Hebrew word for the Spirit. Ruach is the breath within me, whirling and swirling.

The hymn "Spirit of Gentleness" touches my soul. In it we are reminded to listen to the gentleness of the Holy Spirit weaving it’s way in our daily lives, guiding our actions like a gentle breeze.But, if like Jonah we refuse to listen, then the Spirit is no longer gentle but relentless, forcing us to listen and pay attention.

When I was younger, I saw Jesus and God as something apart from myself whereas the holy spirit is within me, a part of me since birth. The Holy Spirit is not just a “muse” or a “conscience” but the part of me I often tap into for strength and understanding. SHE dances with my soul. I try to live to make  Ruach happy and content: I love feeling her breath circling me in an embrace.  

February 1946

I started out thinking I could write a poem about my feelings, but someone already beat me to it.  Thank you John Carl Ylvisaker for this hymn: “I Was There To Hear Your Borning Cry”

I was there to hear your borning cry,

I'll be there when you are old.

I rejoiced the day you were baptized,

to see your life unfold.

I was there when you were but a child,

with a faith to suit you well;

In a blaze of light you wandered off

to find where demons dwell."

"When you heard the wonder of the Word

I was there to cheer you on;

You were raised to praise the living Lord,

to whom you now belong.

If you find someone to share your time

and you join your hearts as one,

I'll be there to make your verses rhyme

from dusk 'till rising sun.

In the middle ages of your life,

not too old, no longer young,

I'll be there to guide you through the night,

complete what I've begun.

When the evening gently closes in,

and you shut your weary eyes,

I'll be there as I have always been

with just one more surprise.

I was there to hear your borning cry,

I'll be there when you are old.

I rejoiced the day you were baptized,

to see your life unfold.

That’s the beauty of the Trinity: the three parts guide us at every stage of our lives:  from knowing that Jesus loves us to exalting the power of God to being guided by the Holy Spirit.Three in one: always there ready to meet us where we are.

To Every thing there is a Season

 

Thursday, October 30, 2014

To every thing a season . . .

Ecclesiastes 3 King James Version (KJV)

3 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

 As I was looking at the leaves on my trees turning, I became a little depressed realizing that with the turning of leaves comes winter--- and how I dreaded another winter like 2014.  I looked at my dogwood which I had always admired with its red leaves, wanting to appreciate the beauty of the present. I saw something I'd never seen before.  There beside the leaves turning red were the red berries to nourish my beloved birds, but what's that white knob?  A bud!

In His infinite wisdom God opened my eyes to what was before me all along:  the hope for Spring, the resurrection of life was already there.  On the dogwood tree was the beauty of Autumn, nourishment for winter and promise of Spring.  Thank you God!

On being Eighty

 

I’m not afraid of being 80

I can be the feisty old lady,

or, demure and unsure.

Let people smile and roll their eyes.

“Sorry I parked so close.”

“Could you help me reach those pies”

“Can you pull these carts apart”

“what was that?  

No, I didn’t fart”

“I’m sorry you spoke too fast.. . .”

“I’m a little slow

Let me move over and let you pass.”

“Can you read this number

It’s a little small,

I can’t read it at all”

“Could I have soup in a cup?

And extra napkins

Tremors make it hard to eat”

‘I’m sorry what did you say

I hate to ask you to please repeat.’

I sometimes wear a scarf.

trying to stay warm and 

trying to look smart:

Hiding my wrinkly neck and

Catching the crumbs 

From cake or buns.

I can be feisty and appear clueless.

Although my body is fading,

Don’t underestimate my thinking.

My body may be at times “helpless”

But my brain keeps on ticking.

There seems to be an app for everything

But, not for old age.

It’s not just another stage in life

It’s the last page in the journal

of my life.

Each day, I celebrate the miracle of 80!