Author: alwaysbridging

This quarter I was the doorperson for Joyful Noise (JN), a beginning music class at the cathedral. It was a blast.

I used to say I’m grateful our kids grew up before rehearsals for the Pageant consumed families’ lives during the first half of December. Then last night I accompanied our JN preschoolers and their parents to the show. I waved my sheep puppet from our field of pews and donned my crown when the Magi processed. I held the assistant innkeeper (one of our 3-year-old students) as the story unfolded while his parents and brand new baby brother played the Holy Family on stage. He was mesmerized, as was I.

There is something very special about being consumed with the real reason for the season during Advent; I’m glad for these families and am exceedingly grateful to everyone who brought this divine story to life. And to Slay Belle (see photo above), our magnificent teacher of the very youngest musicians. Without her encouragement I may have simply opted for livestream.

Of course, it’s hard to imagine peace these days, but then again, I go to the cathedral for the 9 o’clock on Sunday mornings. There’s a carpet along the south side of the nave that’s packed with preschoolers, toys and their parents. We sit as close as we can to the potential mayhem, sometimes in the middle of it. I always marvel at the relative quiet. Playing, making friends, whispering, while the liturgy unfolds nearby. I feel as if I am sitting on the edge of a holy mountain.

The prophet Isaiah described it this way,

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them…They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

I struggled to get to the ocean this time around. First Rob said he just wasn’t up to it which was hard for me to hear. I debated going alone until my friend Jeanne exclaimed, with glee, “Yes, happy to come along. The change of scenery will be good for both of us.” I needed that nudge and enthusiasm.

We were charmed with three days of warmish sunshine. We enjoyed magnetic invitations to apricate—bask in the bright sunlight—while combing the beach and riding bikes. Welcoming December this way could not have been better.

Plus an art project consumed me while indoors.

I had been percolating about how to use the coloring pages I picked up recently at church, one of a cartoon turkey and one of a jar. Those, plus ice-cubed watercolors and old Nat Geos to clip, made for fun collaging.

My creation kept changing as I played. I filled the “I am thankful for” jar with natural gifts I can see, taste, and hear (because those were the pictures I could find in the magazines) while the turkey became “the wonder and gratitude eagle” (because those were the words I could find to describe her.)

Praise G.O.D, I came home yesterday with restored peace in my heart.

Why are we adults so shy about our birthdays? Remember when we were kids and practically wet our pants with the growing excitement as the very day approached? My birthweek is finally here and I am making the most of it. I don’t mind saying: it’s 70 for me, baby. It’s a downright privilege to get this far. Let’s celebrate!

Do you know about glimmers (vs triggers): those blessings that result in warmth and feelings of met needs. The recent examples are abundant.

First, I started the month in Indianapolis visiting my dear sister Melissa. She inaugurated the festivities, giving me a little surprise package for every decade. Thus, I already have plenty of presents (but cards still welcome 😉).

There have been smaller, unexpected sweetnesses. My friend Jeanne stopped by to exchange foot massages (definitely a glimmer) and took her diamond ring off rather than coat it with lotion. Then she inadvertently left it here. Rather than risk loss, I’ve been wearing it until she can peel it off me, prancing around and sparkling like the birthday queen I am.

And my sweet daughter has helped us conjure up a fun drive-by “pop-up” Penny’s Porch Party to finish out the week. What’s a birthday girl to do? Well, invite everybody, of course! I told Carolina I’ve wanted to have the neighborhood kids over to roast marshmallows and just haven’t been able to pull it off. She took that idea and ran with it. Message me if you live nearby and want to join us.

Yesterday I accompanied my husband Rob to his infusion appointment. While attempts have been made to create a private space for each patient, one can often hear the conversation in the next cubicle. Yesterday our beautiful friend from St Mark’s was, unexpectedly, beside us. She’s someone I don’t see much anymore but whose voice I recognized in a second. Her presence made this odd and often sad medical process of chemotherapy seem ordinary, normal even. Something many people experience. It can even be interesting. Dare I say fun? Nope, definitely not. There is a limit.

Speaking of limits, Rob’s situation has definitely clipped my globe-trotting wings. I notice my travel lust sparking frequently and I grieve the slower pace.

Then I remember Travels by Michael Crichton, the book I give to graduates complete with an old-fashioned check or euro bill tucked in as a bookmark. In the first half of his memoir Crichton tells of exciting adventures on every continent—scaling mountains, scuba-diving famous reefs. Sometimes just barely getting out alive and returning to tell the story. In the second half, his tales become introspective, different kinds of travel. Spiritual wonderings. Am I remembering psychodelics?

Truly, my days of staying with host families and improving my Spanish are limited for now. I miss the delightful surprises that leaving home can offer, when time for spontaneity is built-in and a priority. But it could be that this cancer journey turns out to be one of my more remarkable tales. Not a voyage I will ever recommend, I know, but if I pay attention it will be equally as liminal and sparkly as other travel, guaranteed.