I’ve been thinking a lot about hope this week. For the obvious reasons, of course. For some other reasons, as well.

As I mentioned on Wednesday, I’ve spent this week, virtually, in California at a retreat with some of the most amazing women I’ve ever known.

Together, we set out on Legendary journeys. Each day had its own question. In her enthusiasm, our fearless leader mentioned the last question – today’s question – on Thursday, I think.

What does your soul long to express?

I knew the answer immediately.

HOPE!

I’ve known this at some level for a while now. Probably since my girls came along. Hence my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

And hope is a familiar notion for many pastors. At least those of the tribe I tend to hang with.

I’ve been carting an index card around for a couple of days now. There it is, in big letters… HOPE!

Just between us, this has been something of a challenging week on that front, in the afraid-to-hope kind of way.

I burst into sobs of relief when Bill found me getting ready to go back to California for the day and announced that Pennsylvania had been called for Joe Biden. And I, who have been news-avoidant for several years, have been glued to CNN, torn between wanting to take to the street with the dancing rejoicers and praying that they’re not sharing the Covid virus with their joy.

I used to be a nurse.

Eventually, I took a break from CNN and turned back to my Legendary self. That’s when I remembered. My clown name was Hope.

An explanation is clearly in order.

In the mid ’80’s, before I entered Columbia Theological Seminary to study for the ordained ministry, I did some work with a youth pastor in Florida who led a troupe of clown ministers.

Well, actually they were teenagers, willing to be, in a very real sense of the phrase, fools for Christ.

I remember helping with make-up lessons one weekend. Each clown learned to put a small red teardrop beneath the outer corner of their left eye as a symbol of the love of Yeshua.

And we each chose names. Back in those days when I was a mostly-broke single mom about to embark on a road I couldn’t imagine, I chose Hope. (Or, perhaps, Hope chose me.)

I remembered that today.

It feels, in many ways, like a good day for that.

It also feels like a good time to realize that many things are possible and not all of them would make good sense.

Which, at the risk of being redundant, may be why we hope in the first place.

And also in the last.

ps… Channeling my British ancestors, for just a moment, may God save Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. And all of us.

pps… The painting is clearly suffering through new visionary encounters requiring, well, editing but she graciously agreed to appear, teardrop and all.

As you may have noticed… I like learning new things!

The concept of thin places is one of those new things, just now. According to Celtic traditions, a thin place is where one can walk in two worlds. Such places are not experienced with our usual senses of seeing, hearing, touching, etc. They are, rather, more occasions of gnosis… the Greek word for the knowledge of spiritual mysteries.

This feels like a time of thin places.

The moon will be full early in the morning. I’m not an expert on the lore and symbols of the moon. (We didn’t cover that in Seminary!) I can tell you that the moon is considered by some to be the feminine co-creative energy of God, as you see in my painting, The Co-Creative Soul.

In non-pandemic years, we would be celebrating (or avoiding) Halloween. The Beasties don’t understand but I’m glad for their sakes that we’re avoiding the ghoulies and ghosties this year. Too much door bell ringing!

Personally, I prefer the tradition of All Saint’s Day, observed on November 1.

Growing up, all I knew about Saints was that the Catholic kids in our neighborhood got to stay home from school on a whole bunch of days we public school kids didn’t and it had something to do with Saint days.

If you’ve been hanging around a while you’ve heard me tell this next story before…

When I was working on my doctorate, I was taking an on-campus class at Columbia Theological Seminary which is just down the road from where we live in Decatur, GA.

Walter Brueggemann was teaching about Imagination. (If only I’d known then where that would lead me!) He was also preaching in chapel, on November the first.

Now, Saints don’t come up much in chapel at a Presbyterian seminary. At least they didn’t somewhere in the mid 1990’s. Walter, thinking perhaps that we needed a bit more education, decided to explain things.

Saints, he said, are all the people who believe for us on days when we can’t quite believe for ourselves.

I’m not sure that’s how those long-ago Catholic kids learned it, but Walter’s version totally works for me and I’m blessed with a list full of those folks.

I’m betting you are, too, if you just ponder about it for a few minutes. And the world is better when we remember and choose to believe.

Then there’s the thin place looming over any American who’s paying even the slightest attention, along with most of the world. The election.

I’m reminded of realizing, a while back, that we don’t really have control over much of anything. On good days, we have influence.

And, like so many of you, I have influenced myself to the point of exhaustion over this one. Now, we wait.

And vote, just in case you haven’t yet.

And put it all out there with our friends and family about why we’ve chosen what we have, if they’re still wondering what they will choose.

That can be scary. It’s also an act of huge courage and hope in a world that needs both, desperately.

There’s no telling, in this moment, how long this particular thin place will last. For now, hug (virtually, if need be) the ones you love. Make one more contribution, even if it needs to be smaller than your email suggests! Give someone a ride to the polls if you can. Remind yourself, if it helps, that we’ve been through thin places before. And know that there are still lots of us believing. (Probably not all at the same time, but it works, anyway!)

ps… Many of you live in other lands. I think I speak for lots of Americans when I say that we’d be grateful if you were believing with us, too!

pps… #Biden/Harris2020

It’s pouring rain outside right now and I, rather oddly for this point in my week, am giving thanks for our roof.

When the rain started, I dug out from under all the blog writing tools in my lap and went around the house, checking. Five skylights, none leaking. No water over the door to the basement. And tears rolled down my cheeks.

You see, we have a new roof. It’s been quite a production.

To be honest, we’ve needed it for a while. The old one was the least expensive version when it went up 20 years ago and a good 10 years past its official life-expectancy. Which is to say, this really wasn’t much of a surprise. It just hadn’t made its way to the top of the list until it did.

Many decisions were involved. How to get the most possible good out of wise spending. How to do some good for the rest of the world while we were doing good for us. How to invest in something longer range than a box of bandaids.

Going through this adventure has made me even more conscious than usual of all the souls on this planet who would be beyond amazed to have a dependable roof. To have choices about a roof. To be able to think beyond the next rainstorm.

We’re not done with the drama. There are several more adventures related to the roof yet to come. And there’s a good chance they’ll be just as much hassle in the doing as the roof has been.

The bottom line is that we are fortunate enough to get to choose the questions. Questions that affect us and our family and, with a bit of perspective and a smidge of imagination, you and your family and all the families who are our global neighbors.

I’ve learned, as many of you know, most of what I know about Civics from watching The West Wing. It’s not a perfect educational plan, perhaps, but it works for me. And I suspect that our roofing adventure is a fair model for what we, not only as Americans, but as world citizens, are going through just now.

When you get right down to it, it’s about the questions we’re asking. My prayer is that we ask wisely.

ps… the art work is a smidge of a painting known as Abundance Muse. For me, dandelions are not weeds, they’re a really good picture of hope, even in the rain!

pps… dandelions are prayer dots, too!

We are blessed to have lots of new readers among us lately and it’s possible that some of you will have seen some of these words recently. I’m so hoping you’ll hang in here with me, even so. You see, sometimes words volunteer for new jobs!

In my Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope, Chapter 4 began like this…

When we were expecting my first grandchild, just before I turned 50, I noticed a surprising thing. In the midst of making tiny quilts and packing glass baby bottles for the trip across the wee pond, I began to get an inkling that things were changing inside me. Suddenly things that had been sort of philosophically important to me for years, began to seem more urgent. This tiny unknown person, this new spark of love in my heart, had to grow up in this world. And if we’re honest, this world could use some work!

I began, a bit tentatively at first, to shake loose the voices of the ways we’ve always done it. That left me searching for ways to do things better. The family elders were not universally pleased, tending in the “sort for same” direction. There are serious health challenges in parts of the family and I grew up in a strongly environmental summer camp program, so I began my learning with “green” choices.

Household chemicals and personal products — the least toxic I can find or make. (Take a look at dishwasher soap when you have a minute some day.)

Laundry hanging on the front of my house to dry. (There have been many days I couldn’t get to the back.) And yes, Granny. No unmentionables!

No tissue in shopping bags. No paper appointment cards. Recycled paper towels. Sorry, Mom!

Well, you get it.

Now, I’m not usually considered naive. And I do realize that there really aren’t perfect solutions. I also believe that we can all do better in some way and I wanted this child, even before she was born, to have the best possible chance to live in a world with clean water and safe food and a big picture approach to energy. (Not to mention peace and justice and respect!)

I got involved.

I hope you will, too. Today…

…My narrative therapy friends are fond of noticing and wondering. As you think about your own littles’ futures, make room within yourself to notice new things. You know how you buy a new car and immediately start noticing the same cars everywhere you go? This is like that.

As you imagine your kids growing, you’ll automatically notice the things that are working in the world and the things that aren’t. If you’re concerned about dependence on fossil fuels, you might start noticing hybrid and electric cars. And, you might consider one if you’re currently driving a model that’s not so fuel-efficient.

If you’re concerned about safe, clean food you might start noticing signs for farmers’ markets. You might actually read the garden catalog that appears, so full of hope, in your mail…

…Those tiny people really do have huge power, don’t they?

Now, get ready for a bit of a shock.

Yesterday, I sat down with an iPhone pointed at me, camera turned to record. (Really!) I tried and tried to record myself reading the words you just read. (Thanks, Veronica, for the directions!)

It sounds like it should be pretty simple. I mean, I wrote them!

Instead I cried. And tried again. And cried… well, you get the picture. It wasn’t the historical camera phobia thing, of which I’m basically healed. Instead, it was because I care so much.

So I wimped out. Or went with expediency. (Up to you!) And decided to write a bit more. More of the things I’d say if I were writing this chapter for the first time. Like this…

When you watch the news, or go to vote, or (Heaven help us!) don’t, it’s really all about those tiny people.

Who would you rather have taking care of your grandkids… actual or eventual or mythical? That is what we’re deciding! And, if you happen to be having one of those visceral, whole-body shuddering kind of reactions just now, please listen to that.

Who would you rather have taking care of them and their future? I’m going with the ones who believe in civil rights and healthcare and know that climate change is real, etc., etc., etc.

I have two granddaughters growing up in this world.

ps… I’m supposed to remind you to be sure you vote all the way down the ticket. No matter where you live, those votes count, clear down to the local level. And, just in case you live in Georgia, one of the guys we need in the Senate is, alphabetically, waaaay down in the W’s, near the bottom!

pps… The lovely lady above is a glimpse from my first Legend painting and she’s known as Follow Your Heart. It was good advice when she came to be in January 2018 and it’s even better advice now!