Author: alwaysbridging

Heartful

I have already confessed to Rob (my husband), about all the many times I have judged him for obsessing about his blood pressure. Now I’m making a go of it. It’s all heart around here these days because my own BP cuff arrived. I hope this simply is the result of the last dregs of the cooties. I am imagining that when I go back to the doctor in three months, this pressure won’t be as high as when I birthed babies.

Yesterday in her homily, Mother Linzi told us the adult body has ~60,000 (!!) miles of vessels. That’s a lot of passageways for moving the blessed blood that nourishes me. The circulation system is quite a long stretched-out container; best not to give it more juice than it can handle.

That said, I appreciated Linzi’s other references to the amazement of embodiment, providing many opportunities to consider what has gone, and can continue to go, well.

Ash Wednesday

If you are like me, those two words conjure up thoughts and feelings of solemnity. Then it snowed during the early service. We were delighted. Even being the wuss that I am, I had a great chuckle driving home. No way would I have ventured to church at noon (my original plan) on slippery roads. Rolling over unexpectedly at 6 AM allowed for this frivolity to start the season. No snowballs were thrown, that I know of, but God had their way with me, once again.

After two years of blogging frequently during Lent, I am going to give it a whirl again. I’ve invited guest authors too. For instance, during the two weeks we travel to Israel, Palestine and Jordan, poet Seyi will chime in.

I don’t plan to share these posts regularly on Facebook, so if you want to read along, re-visit http://www.alwaysbridging.com. You are (and will be) welcome here.

Today I bike-strolled “the bells” on the orange Townie, an upright hand-me-down from Mom. My biking-fool Dad came too. He’s been dead for years. So what?

It was crisp and sunny, so I sported my shades. Whispered to a deer along the way, “Hello, Friend.” Fantasized about my wildest dreams. No coughing fits. Whistled Matt’s lyrics and Greg’s tune:

“Be still and rejoice in God, as God rejoices in you.”

Who knew prayer could be like this?

When we met for breakfast this morning, I warned my travelmates I was feeling especially effervescent. My cousin asked what that meant and Rob responded, “Foaming at the mouth.” Doug wanted the technical definition. He knew of “bubbly” as in champagne but wasn’t as familiar with Webster’s second definition, “vivacious and enthusiastic.”

What I know from experience is that this trait of mine turns some people off, way off. Especially the foaming version. But when I contain myself, it is as if I have bubbles underneath my skin. I enjoy this feeling. From here, I notice more.

Especially when it seems to be perpetually drizzling in Rio de Janiero and we choose to go to the botanical garden instead of the famous close-and-socked-in mountaintops. There we see an armadillo scurrying past in broad daylight and monkeys above us.

After hours of strolling while the quieter ones in our foursome identify much of the flora, I begin to calm.

This is a delightful feeling too.

I’ve chosen a word for the year every year for the last 15. This year it’s “gifts,” because I find it’s good to start the day asking, “What can I give?” And to end it too, “What were the gifts?” I almost chose “applauding” because, my God, there is so much to be exuberantly grateful for and then I remembered my questions about gifts. It became Ignatian-like as I was reflecting while falling asleep on Iona.

I resolve today to make that pilgrim’s practice a habit.