A Christmas Encounter

Besides a church service a week ago on a walker, last night was my first jaunt out of the house, leaning on a stick, since my hip replacement on December 11th. And what a wonderful evening it was. Rick, my beloved,  and I went to "A Celtic Christmas" at the Weinberg Theatre in Frederick, MD. 

The superbly energetic Irish dancing, singing, fiddling, and glorious atmosphere of frolicking love and mirth were palpable and infectious. The audience were captivated and enthralled. 

It was a glorious evening. 

However, something else stands out to me now as I think about yesterday evening's  adventure. It is a long-ago memory provoked by the meal we grabbed before getting to the Weinberg. 

Time was a little tight so we decided to dash into a Middle Eastern mainly take out joint that had a few inside tables. We chose to eat in. As we were scarfing down delicious spicy sustenance I glanced up and saw there was a young Middle Eastern couple with a beatific baby in a pram eating at a table across from us. They were a perfect reminder of the Middle Eastern Holy Family of so long ago - the family we were just about to celebrate Celtic-style. 

The lady and I smiled at each other - and suddenly I was in a time warp - whisked back through the decades to London, England, a few days before Christmas 1991. 

At the time I was one of 16 pastors at the largest church in England, an international Charismatic church in Notting Hill Gate. I was the recently-appointed first Director of Creative Ministries, setting up a new department that,  before I left and came to America, had developed and launched an award-winning magazine, a creative school and a theatre. 

I was in that London church that pre-Christmas day so long ago- when I saw a despondent man and a woman huddled in one of the back rows surrounded by a few old, battered suitcases. It turned out that they were from Belgium. The man had been promised an almost-too-good-to believe job in England. He was told he just had to get himself and his wife (no baby) to London and everything would be provided and he could start work straight away. 

The man thought this was a brilliant opportunity. Sold everything to have enough money for the journey and arrived, with his wife with just a few pounds between them. He explained that he couldn't get hold of the would-be-employer.  The employer was not answering his phone or taking messages. The traveler didn't have an address. He had spent almost their last money on accommodation the night before.  They had used their last money on a sandwich meal. 

After many more phone calls he realized he had been hoodwinked. There was no job, no accommodation, no money forthcoming. And they were stuck in London, far from home, with rudimentary English, days before Christmas, destitute. 

I phoned all the local shelters. They were full to overflowing. It was a bitterly cold winter and there was no room in any of them - with a long waiting list beside. 

I thought about my office setup. The church had run out of office space so they had housed me in a downstairs room of a building they owned next door. Three students lived in rooms on the top floors, I was in a back downstairs room next to the small shared kitchen, and there was a living room next to my office that was mostly unused. 

I trotted off to the senior pastor, an ex-professional ballet dancer, and explained the dilemma of our two visitors. I assured him that I had a good feeling about these two people, that they were not dangerous, but just had stumbled into an untenable position. Hesitant at first, he finally agreed that for that night they could sleep in the living room next to my office. It  had two sofas, and I told the pastor that  I would make it cosy with blankets and pillows. 

I got the travelers supper and they settled in for the night. The man was going to make a last desperate phone call to his would-be employer the next morning. 

The next day after another failed call, the couple realized for the last time that the promised employment door really was locked and bolted. 

They wanted to get home. If they could just get to their town in Belgium, they said, friends and family would look after them until they were on their feet again. But the had no money. No credit cards. 

They were babes in the vast metropolitan London woods. 

I went back to the senior pastor. By now it was Christmas Eve Day. He agreed that the church would pay for their rather-expensive bus ticket back to Belgium and  that the couple would reimburse the church when they were able to do so. 

The couple were delighted! They gave me their driving licenses as a good faith gesture so I could photocopy them and have a way of contacting them in the New Year if need be. 

I bought picnic supplies for their long journey. Then I drove them to the huge London International coach station, bought tickets on behalf of the church, got them on the coach, and waved goodbye to them as they finally  pulled out of the station, homeward bound. 

When I got back to my office I got out the photocopies of their driving licenses to file them. I hadn't looked closely at them before as getting the travelers ready to depart had been done in a flurry of hurry.

 

I stared at the licenses and did a double take. Then I  checked again, hardly believing  what my eyes had just seen. 

Of course I had heard the couple's first names, but I had no way of knowing their middle names until I saw their licenses. 

They were Joseph and Mary. 

They had sheltered with us at the church as there was no room at the Inn - or rather the homeless shelters. 

And they had been sent on a long journey to safety. 

The senior pastor was, to put it accurately although indelicately, gobsmacked when I told him. His eyes did the osculatory equivalent of a pirouette around the room. 

He preached about it in his Christmas sermon the next day. 

And no, we never got, or asked for, the money for the bus tickets. 

After all, it is not often that Joseph and Mary come to your door needing help at Christmas. 

Looking at the young couple in that Middle Eastern takeout last night swept me back into a time vortex. 

I hadn't thought about that couple in the church for years. 

I loved every moment of the Celtic Christmas with its exuberance, incredible talent, and festively dressed audience. But it is always good to remember the true meaning of Christmas. And recall the fear, uncertainty, and gratefully accepted meager accommodation of that night. 

So in these days before Christmas, whether you are living delightfully high on the warm family, festive hog, or alone, wrapped in sadness due to death, illness, or another sorrow - know that this is a season of miracles both domestic and dramatic. May those miracles flood into your life in unexpected, heart-warming ways bringing you unexpected nuggets of joy. 

Amen. 

Thank you Lord.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am so grateful to live in a nation that understands the power of giving thanks. A day when all Americans in this tensely divided time, no matter what creed, color, or proclivities, are united in thankfulness, bonhomie, and, usually, feasting. 

I have always believed that one of the reasons that America is great is because of this day set apart for giving thanks. 

So thank you Lord for my family and friends. Thank you for the opportunities you have put before me, the adventures you have given me, and the usually self-inflicted disasters you have rescued me from. But most of all thank you for your unfailing, all-encompassing love. With all my heart - thank you. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Whether you wil be surrounded by loved ones, or on your own wrapped in memories, may it be surprisingly delightful and love filled.

Amen

Artist in Residence - A New Adventure

Yesterday I started a new adventure that has been weeks in the making. 

Let me explain. 

Back in mid-April I was hired as part of the Smith Center for Healing and the Arts' Artist in Residence (AIR) program. The Smith Center is based in Washington DC. 

AIR has around 14 artists on its roster - singers, dancers, musicians, painters,  collage-artists, knitters, and two Storytellers. (It was my fellow Storyteller, the wonderful Gary Lloyd, a founding member of AIR, who was heavily responsible in getting me involved with the program.)

The various artists all go into the cancer centers of five different hospitals in Northern Virginia and ply their art among the patients and their families. 

People who are hooked up to machinery getting infusions can be seen painting  on small canvases, listening to a musician play, creating origami figures, or hearing a story. The artists, pushing carts filled with art supplies, can be seen entering patient's rooms and bringing joy and creativity. And as the patient and their friends get involved with making  art they often open up, resulting in deep, meaningful conversations. 

The AIR program is based at the prestigious, state of the art Fairfax Innova Cancer Hospital that is awash with stunning artwork, and huge windows framing beautiful views. 

So to my great delight I have joined their ranks. The last weeks have been taken up with training and shadowing other artists, including Gary, and jumping through various immunization medical hoops needed for being launched solo. 

And the launching happened yesterday. 

From now on every Thursday I will be going into the cancer areas of Innova Fairfax hospital in the morning and Innova Fair Oaks in the afternoon. 

I will be telling stories to patients, family members, staff members, and encouraging them to tell their own. I will also have a large chaplain-trained listening ear available for anything else they might want to share. Indeed my chaplaincy training has been invaluable in so many ways. 

I love the work!  Yesterday, my first day on my own, was a joy. 

There is something very wonderful about seeing a cancer patient, who is being pumped full of whatever it is chemotherapy puts in the body, laugh and laugh - body shaking laughter. 

My true stories are designed to make people laugh and think. I am so grateful that they did their work, eliciting laughter, thoughtful conversations, and the patient's stories in return. 

People who know me well know that my passion has always been, and the majority of my work has involved, the place where creativity, stories, healing, and spirituality intersect. It is a huge joy to me that I am involved with this wonderful group who speak the same creative language,and understand in a deep way the power of creativity to bring healing and peace to the psyche, the soul, and sometimes the body also. 

It is a wonderful new adventure. And I look forward to all that lies ahead as the road unfolds. 

Thank you Lord!

Yesterday I started a new adventure that has been weeks in the making. 
Let me explain. 
Back in mid-April I was hired as part of the Smith Center for Healing and the Arts' Artist in Residence (AIR) program. The Smith Center is based in Washington DC. 
AIR has around 14 artists on its roster - singers, dancers, musicians, painters,  collage-artists, knitters, and two Storytellers. (It was my fellow Storyteller, the wonderful Gary Lloyd, a founding member of AIR, who was heavily responsible in getting me involved with the program.)
The various artists all go into the cancer centers of five different hospitals in Northern Virginia and ply their art among the patients and their families. 
People who are hooked up to machinery getting infusions can be seen painting  on small canvases, listening to a musician play, creating origami figures, or hearing a story. The artists, pushing carts filled with art supplies, can be seen entering patient's rooms and bringing joy and creativity. And as the patient and their friends get involved with making  art they often open up, resulting in deep, meaningful conversations. 
The AIR program is based at the prestigious, state of the art Fairfax Innova Cancer Hospital that is awash with stunning artwork, and huge windows framing beautiful views. 
So to my great delight I have joined their ranks. The last weeks have been taken up with training and shadowing other artists, including Gary, and jumping through various immunization medical hoops needed for being launched solo. 
And the launching happened yesterday. 
From now on every Thursday I will be going into the cancer areas of Innova Fairfax hospital in the morning and Innova Fair Oaks in the afternoon. I will be telling stories to patients, family members, staff members, and encouraging them to tell their own. I will also have a large chaplain-trained listening ear available for anything else they might want to share. Indeed my chaplaincy training has been invaluable in so many ways. 
I love the work!  Yesterday, my first day on my own, was a joy. 
There is something very wonderful about seeing a cancer patient, who is being pumped full of whatever it is chemotherapy puts in the body, laugh and laugh - body shaking laughter. My true stories are designed to make people laugh and think. I am so grateful that they did their work, eliciting laughter, thoughtful conversations, and the patient's stories in return. 
People who know me well know that my passion has always been, and the majority of my work has involved, the place where creativity, stories, healing, and spirituality intersect. It is a huge joy to me that I am involved with this wonderful group who speak the same creative language,and understand in a deep way the power of creativity to bring healing and peace to the psyche, the soul, and sometimes the body also. 
It is a wonderful new adventure. And I look forward to all that lies ahead as the road unfolds. 
Thank you Lord!

The End of An Era

I lived in my beautiful home in Frederick, Maryland for twenty one and a half years, since November 18th, 2002. It was a God-gift, a sanctuary, a place full of peace in the midst of some very turbulent times. 

I thanked God every time I stepped through the front door and saw the swathe of trees and nature out of the back windows, and felt His calm surround me. 

I have moved, with my wonderful husband of almost eighteen months, whom I adore, to start a whole new chapter of life in a beautiful - in a completely different way - home in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, 35 minute away from my old neighborhood. A dream, light, love, and book-filled home. 

In the meantime repairs have been transforming my Frederick home into a veritable oasis of sleek, tasteful, modernity - from her new roof to her freshly painted front door. She went on the market officially at 3.00pm this afternoon. Two hours later I got a very satisfactory offer over the asking price, which I have accepted. 

Saturday's open house has been cancelled. There is no need to hold it. 

If appraisal and loan paperwork go well we will close in three weeks time. 

A miracle got me my Frederick home and it looks very much  like a miracle is enabling me to leave it. 

Praise you Lord. Big time praises. 

And thank you!

Amen.

Valentine's Day 2024

It has been a wonderful Valentine's Day with my love Rick, my third with him, my second as a married woman - a delightful transformation.  

In my family we always start off celebratory days with smoked salmon on toasted, rustic brown bread for breakfast.  Thank heavens that Rick has eagerly embraced this tradition. So first thing we opened loving cards and presents over a delicious fishy feast  😋

At noon we went to a service on this odd day that strangely  blends spiritual and temporal, Ash Wednesday and Valentine's Day. We emerged with ashes daubing our foreheads signalling where we had just been, and where we are eventually going.  

Tonight we went out for dinner at a low-key fish-oriented restaurant - a new favorite of ours. It is a place where "everybody knows your name."  It was a lovely, cosy interlude.  

Now we are settling down in front of a roaring fire to watch a romantic movie.  

I saw a plaque recently that  said  "I am now living in the things I prayed for."  

And I am.

I have spent decades of Valentine's Days alone, but rarely lonely. I would either spoil and pamper myself with candles, bubbles, and a good movie or book - or simply forget it was happening, assuring myself first that  it was merely a commercialized day with no real significance.

But then the God of Love answered  my prayers and suffused me with a tangible earthly love that was so worth waiting for.  

All this to say that whether you are alone; lonely in the midst of a relationship, or crowd; or with a true love match - know that you are  loved. Loved deeply by the One who created love, is love, who holds all things together with love.

  

He is a prayer-answering God - although He answers and fulfills the desires of our  hearts in His time. 

I got mine decades after I thought I would.  Many decades.

So to all - wherever  you are - whatever stage of life - Happy Valentine's Day.

For all of us the best is yet to come. 

Truly.  

Thank you Lord!