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The thought of my funeral has bothered me. Not my death per se but the idea that my loved ones would be made to choose the exact and solemn script in the Book of Common Prayer. While I desire the Liturgy of the Word followed by the Liturgy of the Table as the basic structure, I want my memorial to feel as welcoming as possible to everyone. I want it to draw on the wealth of languages, music, versions and translations from our worldwide communion. Heck, we might even dance across the planes.

I have left a list of some of my favorite choices (Hava Nagila, anyone?) in a folder on the altar shelves in the blue room.

So why worry?

Over the years, I have noticed worship at the cathedral becoming more and more formal, dignified and similar across services. I’ve wondered if variation and breaking away from the serious mold is still possible?

Then over the weekend I celebrated the life of Doreen Tudor during a beautiful and traditional service broadcast over livestream. We could even watch from here at the beach. How gloriously modern! When I heard our leader say during the sermon that 101-year-old Doreen had solicited a promise to sing, “The strife is o’er, the battle won” as the closing hymn, I perked up. And then I heard our preacher proclaim “Alleluia! Alleluia!” at the end of his homily even though we have a rule not to say the A-word during Lent. Silly, I know. But this is our tradition. We can wait until Easter. Usually.

So during the final organ toccata, I wept in awe. For Doreen. For all my lovelies crossing the screen before me. And for the shift.

I know my funeral will work out too. It will be a reflection of my life and God’s Love with relaxed rules. There might even be folk-dancing in the aisles. Certainly, I imagine, there will be during the wake that follows. ¡Ojala!

Appreciating apricating

Bowing and kneeling are two bodily positions I associate with praying. Here’s another one: biking on the flats in sunshine at the beach.

Puzzling for Life

Thanks to some computer-gremlins, I couldn’t join St. Mark’s Zoom Morning Prayer today but connected via podcast instead.

Best thing was how quickly I shifted. No irritation just a fun thought, “Hey, maybe I’ll start a puzzle while I listen.” What’s a retreat to the beach for, after all?

Then, in the wake of sweet prayer vibes, I texted with my dear friend who shares my name.

We enjoy exchanging metaphors. Here’s how she describes this journey we’re on together:

“Puzzles are the perfect metaphor for life. Despite the jumbled pile of pieces, we dive into the unknown with anticipation and determination to experience it all to the final piece. 🧩” Quote – Penelope Jackson

I am feeling weighed down today. It is Day 20 of Lent. Could that be contributing to my restless malaise?

It’s time to drum up a favorite photo and poem by Denise Levertov.

The Avowal

For Carolyn Kizer and John Woodbridge, Recalling Our Celebration of George Herbert’s Birthday

As swimmers dare

to lie face to the sky

and water bears them,

as hawks rest upon air

and air sustains them,

so would I learn to attain

free fall, and float

into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,

knowing no effort earns

that all-surrounding grace.