This morning we read Morning Prayer and afterwards enjoyed oatmeal breakfast together. I love these peeps to the moon and back.
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Love-Death-Creation
I woke up to a gigantic Valentine’s card and roses (thank you, my love). After expressing my love to my husband, I sent heartfelt Valentine’s greetings to my children, and spent some time reading and responding to a myriad of messages. I must admit, I feel mentally drained, yet amidst the exhaustion, I find a profound connection between the celebration of Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday on the same day—a narrative of creation, death, and recreation.
It all begins with love, the driving force of existence: “For God so loved the world…” Then, the inevitable reality of mortality sets in: “dust to dust…” Yet, from this very dust, there arises a promise of renewal, a recreation that transcends the mundane and temporal: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”.
In the convergence of Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday, let us not allow cynicism to rob us of the profound joy that comes from celebrating love, death, and creation. As we embark on this dual celebration in 2024, may it serve as a reminder that even in the face of mortality, love persists, and from the ashes of our old selves, a new creation emerges. Wishing you a blessed Lent filled with introspection, love, and the anticipation of a renewed spirit.
Amor…Muerte…Creación
Me desperté con una gigantesca tarjeta de San Valentín y rosas (gracias, mi amor). Después de expresar mi amor a mi amado esposo, envié saludos de San Valentín a mis hijos y pasé un tiempo leyendo y respondiendo a una multitud de mensajes. Debo admitir que me siento mentalmente agotada, pero en medio del cansancio, encuentro una conexión profunda entre la celebración del Día de San Valentín y el Miércoles de Ceniza en el mismo día: una narrativa de creación, muerte y recreación.
Todo comienza con el amor, la fuerza impulsora de la existencia: “Porque tanto amó Dios al mundo…”. Luego, la inevitable realidad de la mortalidad se presenta: “polvo eres y en polvo te convertirás…”. Sin embargo, de este mismo polvo surge la promesa de renovación, una recreación que trasciende lo mundano y temporal: “Por lo tanto, si alguno está en Cristo, nueva criatura es; las cosas viejas pasaron; he aquí todas son hechas nuevas.”.
En la convergencia del Día de San Valentín y el Miércoles de Ceniza, no permitamos que el cinismo nos robe la profunda alegría que proviene de celebrar el amor, la muerte y la creación. Mientras emprendemos esta doble celebración en 2024, que sirva como un recordatorio de que incluso frente a la mortalidad, el amor persiste, y de las cenizas de nuestro antiguo ser, surge una nueva creación. Les deseo una Cuaresma bendita llena de introspección, amor y la anticipación de un espíritu renovado.
Again, I am imagining a season of posting brief, daily stories. Again, I have invited people of color to join me.
Frankly, I feel hesitant, in part because I wonder what I can possibly share that might compare with last year when I was in the Holy Land. That’s when poet and fellow pilgrim, Seyi, joined me here as a guest author.
But you know how God can be. When I was hemming and hawing, another friend said she might write too and I saw some of your comments that I’d missed. This was the encouraging fuel I needed.
Ok God, I’m in, with your help. We’ll see what happens.
Belated Holiday Letter + My Word for 2024
In 2023, I definitely re-entered the post-pandemic world, traveling to different countries and states four times internationally and five times domestically. We both lost first cousins—Scott and Jenny— as well as Rob’s dear brother, Chris. We hosted our 40th anniversary party and our first house concert/fund-raiser. Both of our kids moved out-of-state, following their dreams to be a full-time professional musician (Clarke with Desert Child based in Durango, CO) and to run a nonprofit cooking school (Carolina with Marigold Cooking Collective in Eugene, OR). At home, we sang (together in the St Mark’s Singers), led prayers (Penny) and tended bees (Rob). My mother, Bernie, lives nearby and is well at 95. Life is rich and full. It’s amazing that I can still sum up a year in one paragraph.
So why has it taken so much longer than usual to come up with my word for the new year? It’s…
Paradox.
Three weeks is a long time to mull over the possibilities. One excuse is I’ve been rocking at sea a lot of that time. Ordinarily I’ve required myself to have chosen a word by now, like I’ve done for the 15 years before this one.
It’s taken longer to settle because I am uneasy about this strange idea of paradox. It doesn’t necessarily promote a comfortable feeling or direct me toward personal transformation the way most of the other words have. Instead it smacks of something that is unresolvable. It doesn’t follow the rules of logic and makes me think on a deeper level. The very thought of paradox messes with my mind.
And still, paradoxes are all around me:
*We are cruising in the lap of luxury while others starve.
*People drive cars on the beach near our cabin alongside the always exquisitely gorgeous ocean.
*I believe both interpretations of many stories even though they contradict each other.
*I feel great joy and deep grief at the same time. How can this be?
“Paradox” is such a peculiar phenomenon that I am having a hard time ending this essay. It does seem worthy of more reflection, perhaps even a year’s worth.
That said…
Happy New Year, everyone!
Love,
Penny
Rob’s brother Chris passed away earlier in the month after a long illness and two days before his 77th birthday. Our son Clarke was born in December too like his uncle (and just like Jesus 😌). We have been mourning and celebrating simultaneously.
Soon after Chris’s death I remember deeply appreciating what we do in church when we lose a loved one. For one thing, I leaned into prayer in community. I regretted that Chris’s immediate family did not have the close support of clergy, these professionals who know the traditions surrounding Life and Death.
Slowly we’re creating our own rituals. Chris’s wife enlisted the funeral home for help, and comfort too. Now that the initial sorrow of his passing and the dust of the holiday are settling, we can choose to use their obituary-memorial page…or not.
Over the years given the inherent joy and grief of extended family, we have developed our own practice: Reid Family Christmas. We had established the date when most of the locals could come before Chris died. We were hoping he’d make it, of course, but instead Brother Rick and his family from Michigan surprised us. They made plans to visit a few days before the event, staying til Christmas Eve.
Our RFC gathering was not an official memorial service, true. And yet, it was every bit as mystical. Chris’s son Elliot read a eulogy. Special readings about solstice-time and friendship were interspersed. The annual slide show, with contributions from all, included more photos and comments about Chris than about anyone else. Brothers Dan and Matt (plus recently-deceased cousin Scott) showed up too.
Who could have imagined that Rick and Rob would be the last ones standing of these five Reid boys?
Always Bridging 