The Roof

Dad said we weren’t allowed to go on the roof, and Mom agreed. But the old woodpile next to the garage was the perfect stairway to heaven. So we waited till it was dark, when we could see into the house but they couldn’t see out, and we climbed Jacob’s ladder, angels in snowsuits.

We crawled up through the snow, under the spruce branches, noiselessly, till we reached the peak. There we lay, cold and still, with a singular purpose – to watch the northern lights.

It seems they were always out the most when the mercury was at the least, but we didn’t care. Shivers are a small price to pay to sit at heaven’s threshold.

They say if you whistle loud enough, the lights will come down and carry you away into the black night. The elders say not to whistle, but maybe their bones are too crackly for the journey. We whistled as loud as we could. We were young, and foolish, and not supposed to be on the roof, but we knew there was something up there, something beyond, and we wanted to go.

I thought if I could breathe deep enough, I would inhale the magnetic fire, and be drawn up to piercing brilliance with the exhale. My heart was pierced, but my feet stayed on the roof.

The next day, Dad looked out the window and saw our clumsy path. He smiled and said nothing.

Lent reflections

Lent was never part of my religious tradition growing up. It was one of those “Catholic” things that involved eating fish on Fridays and praying with beads and things like that – highly suspicious to a Protestant. I think I first “discovered” it in my third year of college, when we had a class on the festivals and seasons of the Church’s year. I was fascinated to learn of this great Church tradition that has been practiced across time and continents, and decided to give up chocolate! I haven’t observed it every year since then, but I am always aware of those little words that pop up in my agenda or on a calendar: Ash Wednesday. Being part of an Anglican seminary the last 2 years has also raised my awareness of the season.

It’s not just about giving something up. It’s not about a yearly weeding out of unhealthy practices, like fated new years resolutions. It’s not about works righteousness and it’s not about making myself feel any better or worse about myself.

I’m no expert, and I haven’t done any research into the season, but this is what I’ve felt out from those around me and experienced myself:

It’s about orienting myself to a bigger story, to its rhythms of denial and fulfillment, death and resurrection, of fasting and celebration. It’s about placing myself on the way of Christ, and embracing the call to pick up my cross. It’s about reminding myself of the constant necessity to place my sins, my habits, my unexamined life, my desires and my time before a holy merciful God. It’s about joining with a community who are trying to walk with each other on this often-difficult way, confessing our sins together, jumping into the gospel story in the days leading up to Christ’s passion and asking Him to form us through His footsteps.

This year I’m fasting from television. It’s not a great vice of mine in particular, but I’ve felt it eating away at my time and mental energy, and it has all but replaced dinners together at the table. Since I’ve decided to give it up, I’m amazed and amused at how many times a day I have the impulse of turning it on – at a lull in my activity, when I’m bored or tired, when I’m procrastinating, when I’m just being thoughtless. It’s a good exercise. Days seem longer – who wouldn’t want more time in their day? – more reading and dish washing get done! I think the greatest change I’ve noticed so far is not only the diminished noise level in my house, but that my inner life is quieter. TV is another voice in my life that sometimes just needs to shut up. I haven’t come upon any great spiritual revelations in its absence, but I pray the silence is an open door for God to speak more clearly.

intercessions – february 6

Our Father,

Be close to all your children who feel rejected. When they are confused about who they are, help them find their true selves in You. Sing over them so they may hear Your voice above all others. Call them by the name You have given them, the name that brings life and wholeness and peace. Form your family image in them, and let them know they are loved. 
Amen.

intercessions – January 29

Father of Lights,

Help us to weather the dark and dreary days of winter and forgive our disinterest in the life you call us to. Let us not become bitter over our little trials and disappointments. Help us to resist wrapping ourselves in darkness of our own making, but rather embrace every good and perfect gift. Show us the light of your grace and lead us to love the cold and weary around us.

Amen.

the mercy of snow

The warm sun and crunchy snow are small but welcome comforts. Everything is crisp today – the blue of the sky, the shadows of the trees, the edge of the wind against my face. The snow is new and muffles the noise of the streets. It seems a soft covering over the sadness of the last few days. The day is solemn yet hopeful. I can hardly look up at the sun it is so bright above the red brick buildings. I think of Grandpa and smile, knowing he is seeing a blue more brilliant than we have ever seen under our sky. I am a little lonely for him, and a tear freezes to my eyelashes. I love the quiet white today, the hush that has settled over the winter world, over a hillside grave. It is peaceful. It is the mercy of snow.