The Color of Contrast

Photo by Lisa Sullivan - Donna's daughter

On Friday, November 21st, some friends and I got together to do ‘lectio divina’. Ruth from church had approached me after reading my article in 'The Banner' magazine. 'My Cup of Tea' talked about some insights I've been having about suffering and how an experience of lectio divina was a jumpstart to those insights. She asked if I'd consider leading some of us in the process. Now, I've been on the hunt for a lectio group but haven't been able to find exactly what I am looking for. Why it didn't occur to me to start my own is a little comical. Karla, another friend and co-conspirator, joked that Ruth was just wanting an excuse to come over to my house and stare at the lake. That isn't such a bad motivation. Maybe this would give me pause to notice it as well!

The scripture reading I chose was out of Isaiah 40:18-31 and only because Joe and I had used part in a recent dedication to our son Reece for his senior yearbook. We borrowed the text that says those who hope in the Lord will "walk and not grow weary, run and not grow faint." I admit, this isn't the the most original scripture for a young runner, but what can I say? Sometimes the most obvious is the most fitting.

And to follow suit, it seemed a good choice... almost a lame cop out... to use it on Friday. I redeemed myself by refusing to read the entire excerpt beforehand in order to experience God 'in the moment' when we actually did lectio, but that was the most thought I gave the whole thing. In fact, my blasé approach began to concern me. This was my first time leading a group like this and I had the fleeting anxiety that it couldn't be this simple; that I should have prepared more. Some may presuppose some old Catholic guilt at work here. The thing is, if it weren't for the Catholics - I wouldn't be doing lectio divina in the first place. Now there's some old irony at work! A complex contrast really.

As a matter of fact, my last few months have been about contrasts... and after going through Isaiah on Friday, it didn't rock my world that the only scripture to stand out was an exercise in that very concept...

"a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff" and "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength".

Those words didn't feel profound really- no supernatural thrill to them. I just felt... peace. And a sense of well-being. I was reconciled to the thought that it had been a long week and at the least, it was a nice gift to be with friends and make a cognizant, intellectual connection. Not very much of a leap in my mind. If these words were of God, for me (which I doubted), I figured that there would be some nice little anecdote I could share at the next meeting. But contrasts? Big deal!

What I didn’t know was that - while I was sitting in my home in Michigan experiencing life with friends and God - my sister Donna was laying in a hospital bed in South Carolina experiencing death with friends and God.

The whirlwind ensued.

Looking back over the last week or so with the benefit of hindsight, I’d have to write a book to encompass the depth of vision that the contrasts in my life have afforded me...

At Thanksgiving with family as Joe's Dad struggles with cancer - abundance and lack, work and play, noise and silence, rushing and stillness, joy and sorrow

On the pier this weekend scattering my sister's ashes - summer and winter, life and death, cold and heat, tears and laughter, chaos and order...

I wrote a song recently called Divine. It is about contrasts and connection. I even posted a video on YouTube - Angela Josephine, live from the front porch. (No kidding) It was a beautiful fall day and before playing the song I talk about how the more difficult days of winter are sure to come. How that is like life and we can't just have the nice days or our perspective is limited. I am half-serious when I say be careful what you write. It is one thing to sing - and another to live it. To walk the walk, rather than talk the talk. More contrasts.

One thing I can attest to is that when it comes to contrasts, the very reality of one gives the other focus. These are the vivid colors that mix to form the palette of grace. And in the landscape of this life, I may never understand the full purpose, but have had glances and occasional sweeping vistas take shape and open up before me because of them.

And they...

take my breath away and bring me life
tear me to pieces and put me together again
empty me of myself and fill me with God

And when all is said and done, this is the true purpose and lectio divina has done its work.

My Cup of Tea

There is a legend that says the Chinese Emperor Shen Nung, the Divine Cultivator, discovered tea accidentally when he was boiling water under the shade of a wild tea tree. A few of the leaves dropped into his pot, tinting the water and he drank the resulting infusion. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with a sense of well-being. If only it were that easy.

On Sunday, our pastor prayed for a person facing a difficult doctor’s appointment. In his prayer he said, “Lord, that is an appointment that none of us would want to be called to, but it’s an appointment You may call us to.” At that moment in prayer, I had an appointment with Lectio Divina.

Lectio Divina is a very ancient art practiced by Christians. It is a slow, contemplative praying of the Scriptures which enables the Bible, the Word of God, to become a means of union with God – not unlike brewing tea. The same excerpt from scripture steeps several times in the vessel of the heart. The Holy Spirit then draws forth the flavor of one particular word or phrase to speak directly into the life of an individual. Its true intent is to cultivate the ability to drink deeply of the cup of Christ and to hear “with the ear of our hearts.” On Sunday morning, I was surprised to find that I am not totally deaf.

You see, there has been something collecting in my heart over the past few months. The first bits settled when my sister’s cancer returned. Further deposits were made with each new challenge – a blood transfusion here, a debilitating fever there – a heap of dried matter littering the chambers. My own set of health issues compounded the effect and finally, the news of our precious 8-year-old niece’s terminal illness threatened to stop it up for good.

Yet something happened that morning. Pure, hot truth poured into me, the words “…it’s an appointment You may call us to” steeping the bits slowly. That which had collected in the vessel of my heart, the bitter and potentially lethal remnants, began to infuse the grace I was experiencing with a particular quality. God was brewing a tea with the tender leafs of my suffering and the sufferings of those around me. Would I trust Him with it?

A traditional tea master is implicitly trusted with the fine art of nurturing a tea plant. This is quite an involved task especially because all tea comes from one kind of plant.* A master knows when to pluck and when to wither. A master knows that differences in climate, soil, temperature and moisture will yield very different, yet equally significant teas. Without the Master, my own precious harvest threatens to become dry dust or an over-steeped sludge served up in the cup of a broken world. Or maybe even worse, a saccharin-laden mixture that covers up the honest and full flavor of the cup that is mine.

Jesus had a cup placed before Him. He never asked for a different cup – only that He would not have to drink the dregs. "Abba, Father," he said, "everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what You will." Because of His trust in the Tea Master, we are able to experience the full flavor of grace.

We have a new teahouse in Traverse City. It is called Serenity and is located on Front Street across from the State Theater. You can choose to sit cross-legged in the sunlit windowsill, slowly sipping away at an iced drink while watching the activity on Front Street (this is the favored perch of the teen-aged clientele). Or you may choose to curl up on a comfy sofa with a steaming cup while reading a book on the history of tea making. The folks at Serenity know that there are as many ways of appreciating tea as there are cultures to appreciate it.

I’m learning to appreciate tea. I watch the light refracting through the infused water and think of the very sunlight that withered the leaf. I remind myself to breath in the aroma that holds all knowledge of its origin. I let my tongue roll over the flavor, tasting each nuance of the soil it was nurtured in. I let the warmth pour through me. I am learning to appreciate that the hardships endured and the tender nurturing received lend character and, in the hands of the Master, are one in the same.

Wars have been fought over tea. Ceremonies celebrate it. So precious was the secret of tea in China that England sent spies into the country to attempt to discover the secret of their process. The truth is there is still a war being fought over tea. It wants to do away with the ceremony and steal the secret. It does not want us to know how precious we are to the Tea Master and that every day He is calling us to an appointment…

“Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, and they all drank from it.”

What is your cup of tea?

*( All true tea comes from the same type of plant, an Asian evergreen known as Camellia sinensis. Herbals are not technically teas, but Tisanes.)

MY SISTER AND LAURA BENNETT DEMYSTIFIED

I wanted to post this photo from South Carolina of my sister Donna and I. My sister is on the right... as if you need me to tell you that. LOL


As for Laura Bennett, people have wanted details. As I said, Donna was the brave soul and would know those details. You can go to her blog www.pinkdonna.blogspot.com and ask her.

For the record, my impressions were what I shared in the last blog. The point being not so much about Laura Bennett or my sister Donna - but the recognition and celebration of women with an indomitable spirit. Alas, I am too artsy for my own good and wouldn't make a great gossip columnist. ;-)

I MET LAURA BENNETT!!!

(Photo courtesy of ProjectRunway.com)

I met Laura Bennett! O.K. – if I were to be totally honest, I let my sister do the dirty work of accosting her in the airport and then came along after the deed was done. Never mind the fact that I was squealing silently (yes – such a thing can be accomplished) and almost jumping up and down when I first spotted her standing across the aisle from us. And forget about turning 40! The 18 year old in me is alive and well!

It was especially cool because Donna and I had JUST been talking about her. It was during one of our all day pajama sessions with the Food Network. Is it chemo's way of seasoning all real food to taste like metal or the new appeal of the sofa that has led to Donna’s addiction with FN? We aren’t sure, but I did tease her more than once about being masochistic.

The fact that I know who Laura Bennett is tells you something about me. Yes, I am a Project Runway freak. You may, a) get what I am talking about and squeal silently (or aloud), b) shake your head in disappointment at my obvious lack of class or c) be totally clueless. If you don’t know what I am talking about, I owe you at least that.

Project Runway is a show where “wanna be” designers compete in different challenges for the title of Top Designer and the chance to start their own label. For example, one of the challenges required the designers to make their design out of recycled products. I am willing to put up with the reality show “ick” to witness the thing I never grow tired of; one challenge having as many creative and unique outcomes as there are people involved.

I have to admit that in the end, the ‘reality’ part won out. At the airport, I told Laura Bennett that we had been cheering her on to win and she pumped her arm triumphantly. You see what I love about Laura Bennett, her designs aside, is her indomitable spirit. Just like my sister Donna who marched right up to her to introduce herself. And they say we gravitate towards the people whose traits we want to exhibit. I guess that tells you something else about me.

A LONG WINTER

I haven't really treated this blog as a journal... more of a place to post my writing - meaning only those writings that I am willing to share. Trust me. There is enough that I am NOT willing to share. My sister Donna has inspired me to tell a bit more of my story, a bit more frequently. You can see a link to her page in the LINK section (original - I know!). She is fighting breast cancer and tells it like it is. I've always admired her for being direct and squirm about it at the same time. Her heart baring honesty is a light on my own dishonesty and a smack upside the head to be more forthright. She has reminded me that God uses our brokenness to bring mending. Our raw, honest appraisals don't scare Him away, in fact - they are the best stuff to work with.

Donna says that I am an inspiration and like her, I find that appraisal hard to bear. As an artist who is supposedly 'out there' in front of people - it's tough to keep a reign on motives. Inspiration can quickly become a goal to pursue rather than a thing that happens because you are just being who you are created to be. Who you are created to be becomes mucked up in all the hype.

So here are some words I wrote when I was thinking about all these things.

Words
collapsing
tumble, thrumming
down the mountain
in a roar
left behind
a cloud dispersing
in its silence saying more
listen close by breathing deep
the grit that scrapes the back of throat
the mountain settles in my soul
a foothold on my every note

I hope to continue to post more in journal form on a more frequent basis!