Saturday, December 10, 2011

December Bluesey Wilderness

Bad, bad mood the last couple days. Progression of the 'grumpy old lady' disease, this must be arrested but can never be cured, emotional sobriety a minute at a time . . . let me digress, please . . .

So, I was at a two hour Advent retreat today under the tutelage of Fr LaFonde, or something. You have to love a former SSJE monk who brags that he has flannel footy pjs with tiny pirates on them. It's the specifically tiny part that gets me.

Anywho, before I get to that, I have to tell you that I copped an immediate nasty resentment, see paragraph number one, about the church in which it was held. It's in the next town over, I used to go to a real stinko Alanon mtg there but never saw the sanctuary. It was decked out, all highly polished wood, soaring ceilings, big enough rooms to square dance, needle pointed altar pads. MAKES me sick seeing all that money decked out in the church when there is better use of it going to the needy.

The up side is that I am really thankful for my church, it's small, chairs not pews. People don't wear boiled wool sweaters and Birkenstocks. Things are plain, of the people, when we are a small group, we pass communion from one person to the next.

So, I got to the retreat this morning a few minutes early, put on my adhesive name tag, the parishioner ahead of me, says 'I don't know why I'm here'. Yes, you do, I replied, one can only say 'darkly'. Oh, I know, she replies.

Let me tell you, there is no safety in small talk around me!

Several good points were made by the good man . . . we are in a wilderness, it's a valid/valuable place to be, preparing a straight path for God to enter my life (I did not, to my credit, stick my hand in the air and try to correct him that I am suffused in spirit, let it go, Carol, just let it go).

He made the analogy of clearing the way for an ambulance to arrive. And we meditated several times and then ate warm bread and soup. And I only picked on one more parishioner, from another ostentatious church where I take my ministry class.

Tiny pirates, that just makes me smile.

1 comment:

  1. I feel a poem coming on with
    tiny pirates
    in tiny boats
    on tiny voyages
    crossing tiny moats...etc!--grin

    Your 'churchy' thoughts and experiences are interesting enough to let another know that you, Carol, are really working at it.

    In a tattered old book I still read, there is a Chapter (5), which is NOT titled, "How it Feels"...but IS titled "How it Works"! And you remind me of the 'working' part.
    Thanks, Carol.