Thanksgiving

I recently read Fr. Alexander Schmemann's journals. He delivered his last sermon on Thanksgiving Day, 1983 and here it is. It is moving and deep in its simplicity.

Thank You, O Lord!

Everyone capable of thanksgiving is capable of salvation and eternal joy.

Thank You, O Lord, for having accepted this Eucharist, which we offered to the Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and which filled our hearts with the joy, peace and righteousness of the Holy Spirit.

Thank You, O Lord, for having revealed Yourself unto us and given us the foretaste of Your Kingdom.

Thank You, O Lord, for having united us to one another in serving You and Your Holy Church.

Thank You, O Lord, for having helped us to overcome all difficulties, tensions, passions, temptations and restored peace, mutual love and joy in sharing the communion of the Holy Spirit.

Thank You, O Lord, for the sufferings You bestowed upon us, for they are purifying us from selfishness and reminding us of the "one thing needed;" Your eternal Kingdom.

Thank You, O Lord, for having given us this country where we are free to Worship You.

Thank You, O Lord, for this school, where the name of God is proclaimed.

Thank You, O Lord, for our families: husbands, wives and, especially, children who teach us how to celebrate Your holy Name in joy, movement and holy noise.

Thank You, O Lord, for everyone and everything.

Great are You, O Lord, and marvelous are Your deeds, and no word is sufficient to celebrate Your miracles.

Lord, it is good to be here!

Amen.

One Word

Got this from Philippa.

One word, and only one word, so here goes!

Yourself: Contemplative
Your partner: None
Your hair: Gray
Your Mother: Strong
Your Father: True
Your Favorite Item: photos
Your dream last night: None
Your Favorite Drink: water
Your Dream Car: paid
Your Dream Home: large
The Room You Are In: Office
Your Ex: Ex
Your fear: Hell
Where you Want to be in Ten Years? Home
Who you hung out with last night: Priest
What You're Not: hypocritical
Muffins: cranberry
One of Your Wish List Items: boards
Time: Lacking
The Last Thing You Did: dinner
What You Are Wearing: jeans
Your favorite weather: brisk
Your Favorite Book: Psalter
Last thing you ate: Thanksgiving
Your Life: drama-less
Your mood: Hopeful
Your Best Friends: Precious
What are you thinking about right now: mother
Your car: Red
What are you doing at the moment: Blogging
Your summer: sweaty
Relationship status: divorced
What is on your tv: Nothing
What is the weather like: cool
When is the last time you laughed: today

How 'bout you?

Thnigs I've Done

Things I've Done...
...are in italic type. Swiped this from Meg, who swiped it from Philippa.

What have you done? Or not, as the case may be?

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you’ and meant it!
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s nappy
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Drunk champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse.
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Scored a winning goal
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment (its a dimly remembered moment, but its there)
39. Visited all 5 continents
40. Taken care of someone who was drunk
41. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
42. Watched wild whales
43. Stolen a sign
44. Backpacked
45. Taken a road-trip
46. Gone rock climbing
48. Midnight walk on the beach
49. Gone sky diving
50. Taken a train through Europe
51. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
52. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table, and had a meal with them
53. Milked a cow
54. Alphabetized your CDs
55. Sung karaoke
56. Lounged around in bed all day
57. Gone scuba diving
58. Kissed in the rain
59. Gone to a drive-in theatre
60. Started a business
61. Taken a martial arts class
62. Been in a movie
63. Crashed a party
64. Gone without food for 5 days
65. Gotten a tattoo
66. Got flowers for no reason
67. Performed on stage
68. Been to Las Vegas
69. Recorded music
70. Eaten shark
71. Buried one/both of your parents.
72. Been on a cruise ship
73. Spoken more than one language fluently (well, fluently for a 5 year old!)
74. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
75. Walked a famous bridge
76. Had plastic surgery
77. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
78. Wrote articles for a large publication.
77. Tried to lose weight seriously
79. Piloted an airplane
80. Petted a stingray.
81. Broken someone’s heart
82. Broken a bone
83. Eaten sushi
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Parasailed
86. Skipped all your school reunions (not, I hasten to add, by choice -- they all took place too far away)
87. Shaved your head
88. Caused a car accident
89. Pretended to be “sick”
90. Swam in the Pacific Ocean
91. Saved someone’s life.
92. Fainted
93. Been in the room while someone is giving birth (and it wasn't even me!)
94. Hitchhiked
95. Adopted a child
96. Been caught daydreaming
97. Been to the Painted Desert
98. Called off a wedding engagement
99. Donated your blood
100. Become a follower of Jesus Christ

Anger by St. John Chrysostom

Anger is a strong fire, consuming all things in its path; it wastes thebody and corrupts the soul, and renders a man base and odious to look upon. And if it were possible for the angry man to see himself at the time of his anger, he would not need any other admonition, for there is nothing less pleasing than an angry countenance. Anger is an intoxicant and more wretched than a demon.

St. John Chrysostom

Becoming Myself

”As life goes on it becomes tiring to keep up the character you invented for yourself, and so you relapse into individuality and become more like yourself every day. This is sometimes disconcerting for those around you, but a great relief to the person concerned.” -Agatha Christie

I was struck when I read this quote by Agatha Christie. Its so true! I thought about how I have been decluttering my life and me this past year, and how the process has allowed me to be more authentic, more honest in my relationships, more able to focus on what is truly needful. Agatha is right, though - it *is* disconcerting to those around you. When you go through these kinds of changes, the pot gets stirred and the old ways of relating to others get redefined.

I've pruned away lots of dead wood and I'm hoping that lots of new growth will occur now, but as an Orthodox Christian, I understand Agatha's quote in terms of my belief as well. It does, indeed, become tiring to keep up the facade. Its like the plate spinner on the Ed Sullivan Show. when I was a kid. It was simply amazing, how many plates he could keep spinning on the end of a stick! And man, did he work - running back and forth, with not one second to take his eyes off the plates. By the end of his 5 minute spot, he was totally spent. That's how I've felt for a long time - too many plates to keep spinning, and no time for what is truly important and fruitful. Too many people in my life, all with their own agendas, sometimes working at cross purposes with each other and with me. No time to think. No time to figure out how I got from way over there to way over here. No time to organize and regroup. Its exhausting.

In some ways, now that I've begun decluttering, I am becoming more myself. More the me I understand myself to be. I love that. I hate it, too, mostly because the me that I know is so flawed. But shouldn't we all become more like Christ instead of ourselves? Isn't that the flaw in Agatha's reasoning? Of course this theosis would also be disconcerting, no question about that, because every time someone meets God and allows Him to shine some light into a corner of his soul, the rest looks even darker in comparison. I'm finding that the relief I feel is more about what *isn't* there any longer than about what *is* there. Surely that can't be "right"!

But I have to confess that putting down some of what I've been carrying is definitely a relief. It has freed up so much more than just time! My emotional life and my spiritual life have improved so much. I'm not as distracted during prayer as I was. I no longer second guess myself about everything, trying to figure out in advance how everything will "play". Not that I don't still do that to some extent - its good manners after all - but my major problems with that have disappeared. And I am GREATLY relieved. Last weekend, I had the energy and the time to spend with a dear friend who got some bad news about a tumor she has behind her eye. Had this happened just a few months ago, I would have been emotionally incapable of providing support to my friend, and I wouldn't have had the physical energy, either. Now, though, I was able to do what was needful last weekend and help my dear friend when she needed my help. Yay!

God is good!

You Hurt My Feelings!

Once again, Fr. Joseph Huneycutt posted something that resonated deeply with me. I needed to read this, and read it with that detached self-understanding that I blogged about recently. I'm going to cut and paste this here so that I won't lose it and can read it again when I need reminding. This is Orthodixie's September 17th blog entry.

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Remembrance of wrongs is the consummation of anger, the keeper of sins, hatred of righteousness, ruin of virtues, poison of the soul, worm of the mind, shame of prayer, cessation of supplication, estrangement of love, a nail stuck in the soul, pleasureless feeling cherished in the sweetness of bitterness, continuous sin, unsleeping transgression, hourly malice.– John Climacus, Ladder of Divine Ascent (LDA), p.87.

Whenever we become obsessed by some past event in which we perceive that we have been wronged, we give the devil ample opportunity to lead us toward greater temptation. We forget that our warfare is not with each other! We are to engage in spiritual warfare against the Enemy of our salvation and his willing hosts, the demons. When we remember wrongs we fall prey to the Father of Lies and engage in combat with our fellow brothers and sisters.

St John of Kronstadt writes:“The Devil cunningly induces us – instead of irritating us against himself – to notice our neighbors' sins, to make us spiteful and angry with others, and to awaken our contempt towards them, thus keeping us in enmity with our neighbors, and with the Lord God Himself. Therefore, we must despise the sins, the faults themselves, and not our brother who commits them at the Devil’s instigation, through infirmity and habit; we must pity him, and gently and lovingly instruct him, as one who forgets himself, or who is sick, as a prisoner and the slave of his sin. But our animosity, our anger towards the sinner only increases his sickness, oblivion, and spiritual bondage, instead of lessening them; besides this, it make us ourselves like madmen, or sick men, the prisoners of our own passions, and of the Devil, who is the author of them” [My Life in Christ (MLC), p.166].

The victory over this plague, remembrance of wrongs, is true repentance and a sincere struggle to love.

“The forgetting of wrongs is a sign of true repentance. But he who dwells on them and thinks that he is repenting is like a man who thinks he is running while he is really sleeping” [LDA, p.89].

“He who has obtained love has banished revenge; but he who nurses enmities stores up for himself untimely labours” [LDA, p.87].

How true! We can expend a great amount of energy in being, and remaining, mad at someone. Nursing enmities gives birth to sleeplessness, mental and emotional preoccupation, thoughts of evil, and worse. True love, God-pleasing love, bears the sweet fruits of repentance, forgiveness, compassion, and charity.

"True love willingly bears privations, troubles, and labours; endures offenses, humiliations, defeats, sins, and injustices, if they do not harm others; bears patiently and meekly the baseness and malice of others, leaving judgment to the all-seeing God, the righteous Judge, and praying that He may teach those who are darkened by senseless passions” [MLC, p.236] .

May we be vigilant in our repentance, our forgetting of wrongs and “hurt feelings.” Let us put aside our weapons used for mutual destruction and embrace the Love that is Christ in order to do God-pleasing warfare with the Enemy of our salvation.

Theosis

"Christians should judge no one, neither an open harlot, nor sinners, nor dissolute people, but should look upon all with simplicity of soul and a pure eye. Purity of heart, indeed, consists in seeing sinful and weak men and having compassion for them and being merciful. "

Abba Macarius the Great.

"Practice self-observation. And if you want to benefit yourself and your fellow men, look at your own faults and not those of others. The Lord tells us: 'Judge not, that ye be not judged,' condemn not that ye be not condemned. And the Apostle Paul says: 'Who art thou that judgest another man's servant?'"

St. Arsenios of Paros, Modern Orthodox Saints, Vol. 6

These words really hit me today. We all need to read these words with understanding and apply them to ourselves. Practicing self-observation is difficult. It requires us to put away our emotions, no matter how strong they are, step outside them and dispassionately considering the truth of our life. It requires us to seriously consider what those who love us tell us about ourselves. If what we believe to be true about ourselves constantly conflicts with what people who love us and want the best for us tell us, we owe it to ourselves to seriously consider the truth being told to us.

My spiritual father sometimes tells me things that are difficult to hear because he describes a person that I simply do not want to be. But, I owe it to myself, to him, and to those in my community, to step outside of my emotions and seriously consider what he tells me. When I was young, I couldn't do that, but as I matured, I became more able to do this, though there are times when it is very difficult. But I know that he has my best interests at heart, and that he loves me enough to tell me the truth. What a gift he is! I owe it to him to try to see things his way, instead of stubbornly clinging to my idealized ideas about myself. I've learned a lot by doing this.... I've been able to begin the process of decluttering myself, in a manner of speaking, and not just myself, but get rid of the useless or unprofitable flotsam and jetsam accumulated over 51 years of living.

Sometimes I think of what a sculptor friend told me years ago. He said that the work of art, the final sculpture, exists within the stone and has since the earth was created. Its his job, as the sculptor, to remove everything that is not the work of art. What is left is what God had intended the stone to be. Isn't this the perfect metaphor for the spiritual struggle we are all engaged in?

It difficult, this weeding away of that which is not necessary. Sometimes unprofitable things and habits and even people have to be chipped out.

But the end result will be beautiful.

Thanks to Orthodox Pilgrim http://www.xanga.com/OrthodoxPilgrim for the quotes.

The trap of "Romantic Orthodoxy"

Interesting & thought-provoking posting in Rod Dreher's blog found at:

(http://www.beliefnet.com/blogs/crunchycon/2006/08/trap-of-romantic-orthodoxy.html)

I just finished reading Fr. Schmemman's journal, and this quote can be found on page 276. Rod (and Fr. Alexander) give much food for thought. Here is Rod's post:

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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The trap of "Romantic Orthodoxy"

In a journal entry from Nov. 1, 1980, Father Alexander Schmemann,
the renowned Orthodox priest, discerned a problem with what he
called "Romantic Orthodoxy", which can be distinguished by the
following characteristics:

"+ nominalism (e.g., non-existing Patriarchates)
+ blind liturgical conservatism
+ cult of the past
+ theological preoccupation almost exclusively with the Fathers
+ "apocalypticism"
+ hatred for the contemporary world (not for this world in general)
+ emotionalism
+ cult of externals (beard, cassocks, prayer ropes, style)"

"In other words," wrote Schmemann, "it includes all that makes
Orthodoxy weak, that makes it into an internal ghetto (and not an
appeal, a fight, life). Romanticism, in life and in culture, is, above all,
a dream, the primacy of the heart over discernment and truth. It pushes
reality away for the sake of an imagined reality; it is belief in illusions."

Father Schmemann, of course, was talking specifically about the
Orthodox church, but there is wisdom there for all of us who hold on
to small-o orthodox religion, in whatever tradition. My experience is
almost wholly limited to the Catholic Church, but there are some good
general principles in this for the small-o orthodox to watch out for. We
live in a time of such chaos within the churches that it's easy for the
orthodox to substitute slavish adherence to ritual and Henny-Pennyism
(i.e., "The sky is falling!") for authentic spirituality. For me -- and this
is something I would have added to Fr. Schmemann's list -- a particular
temptation has been to get caught up in Church politics, and to allow
"churchiness" to occupy much of the attention that ought to have been
going to advancing on the path to holiness. There was a time not all
that long ago when I imagined that being preoccupied with the
advances and retreats of the forces of Catholic orthodoxy was the same
thing as being and becoming a good Catholic Christian.

The "cult of the past" is a particular temptation too for us tradition-
minded Christians. It's very easy to look around at the loosey-goosey
religion promulgated by Father Frootloop and Sister Stretchpants (and
their dopplegangers in other churches and traditions) and to idealize
the 1950s, when the Church was rock-solid. But that solidity must
have been a Potemkin village at some level, or things wouldn't have
fallen apart so quickly in the 1960s, which is the decade we love
(appropriately, I hasten to add) to demonize. Could it be that in that
decade, very large numbers of people were going through the motions,
but the living faith itself never touched their hearts?

A few years ago I was in the Netherlands talking with a professor
about the collapse of the Church and cultural conservatism in Holland.
He said that when the Second World War ended, people returned to the
social forms that had existed prior to the war. But those forms had
been hollowed out by the trauma of the war. When the first gusts from
the counterculture blew through the Netherlands in the early 1960s, it
all went down like a house of cards. I wonder, then, if the Dutch
churches in the immediate postwar period were caught up in a "cult of
externals," mistaking the form of corporate worship and personal piety
for actual faith -- and so they didn't see the internal weakness
developing.

It Isn't the Church ... It's You!

It Isn't the Church ... It's You!

If you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
You needn't slip your clothes in a grip
And start on a long, long hike.

You'll only find what you left behind,
For there's nothing really new.
It's a knock at yourself when you knock your church;
It isn't the church -- it's you.

When everything seems to be going wrong,
And trouble seems everywhere brewing;
When prayer meeting, Young People's meeting, and all,
Seem simmering slowly -- stewing,
Just take a look at yourself and say,
"What's the use in being blue?"
Are you doing your "bit" to make things "hit"?
It isn't the church -- it's you.

It's really strange sometimes, don't you know,
That things go as well as they do,
When we think of the little -- the very small mite --
We add to the work of the few.
We sit, and stand around, and complain of what's done,
And do very little but fuss.
Are we bearing our share of the burdens to bear?
It isn't the church -- it's us.

So, if you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
Put off your guile, and put on your best smile,
And hike, my brother, just hike,
To the work in hand that has to be done --
The work of saving the few.
It isn't the church that is wrong, my boy;
It isn't the church -- it's you.

-- Unknown

Taken from The Best Loved Poems of the American People, pp.93-94.

I got this from Fr. Joseph Huneycutt's blog: http://southern-orthodoxy.blogspot.com/

Dear Daughter's I Am From Poem

I am from pasta and lentils, from Barilla and ballet,

I am from B Street, crowded, loving, scented with old wine and new detergent.

I am from the desert, from RV trips that never ended.

I am from common sense and strength, from my mother and her mother and her mother.

I am from tears of joy and sadness, from gardens failed and successful.

I am from "she reminds me of her mother" and my grandmother's hands.

I am from long hours standing in church, from incense, from wheat, wine and oil.

I am from Cape Cod, from granola and the one bite rule.

From watching war movies and trying to knit, from the lentil year and Sarah Morton's Day.

I am from my grandparents' desk, walls of photos, jewelry boxes filled with love and the occasional gem.

From an old steel box and recipes in my grandmother's shaky hand and my mother's elegant one.

I am from a line of women who are always together, even when apart, and the line will continue through me, my cousins and shared food.

I am from.....

I am from Grammies blue gravy pitcher, from maple sugar candy, from hand knitted sweaters and the old Singer sewing machine.

I am from the little house and little street; from quiet libraries and bustling kitchens; from Sunapee, cool, clear and deep.

I am from tomatoes, gardenias, cultured cities, mountains and lakes.

I am from seven fishes on Christmas Eve, from roaring fires and roaring laughter, from Josie and Bea and Judith.

I am from big noses and big hearts, from hard work and perseverance, from strength of character and adventure.

From "I love you" and "grosse fess" and "clean your plate".

I am from morning mass and rosaries worn smooth with use, from Pater noster qui es in coelis and Notre Père qui es aux cieux and Otche nash izhe ye see na nyebyesekh.

I am from New England, from Boston and Lake Sunapee; from Italy and Acadie, from gnocchi and poutine rapee.

From Grammies lost glasses, the old Garland stove, the dock floating away with the ice floes. From Memiere's silent laughter and harmonicas, from whalers and sea captains, plumbers and wanderlust, from Mexico and New Hampshire, from sea to sea.

I am from the memories of my heart, from polaroids and slides, from earrings and knitting needles, from shadow boxes of photos, from love expressed around the dinner table, from wine and peas and raspberry jam.

I am from paint brushes and baritones, french horns and icons, from singing and dancing and laughing, from endless support and love and pride.

I am from generations of strong women, holding hands, stretching backwards and forwards throughout time.

Courage Quote

I read this today.

Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow". -Anonymous

What I read this morning

A Prayer of Saint Isaac of Nineveh

Do you wish to commune with God in your mind? Strive to be
merciful... One should first of all begin to be merciful in the
measure that our heavenly Father is merciful.

The purpose of prayer is for us to acquire love for God, for in
prayer can be discovered all sorts of reasons for loving God.

Love of God proceeds from conversing with Him; this conversation of
prayer comes about through stillness, and stillness comes with the
stripping away of the self.

Faith in Christ is living, noetic Light.

A monk who with the eyes of his intellect gazes intently into his
heart while praying will quickly be deemed worthy of mercy.

The Light of Jesus is noetic Light, and blessed is the soul which is
accounted worthy to see it!

Am I a Control Freak?

Interesting question. My first thought would be to say no, I'm not a control freak. I'm in control most of the time, but not obsessively so, and I seldom seek control or power positions. I know one or two people would disagree about that, but they would be wrong. On the other hand, I do often find myself pushed into leadership positions, which I willingly (willingly, not gladly) take on, because I know that I am a competent leader and manager, and that what I commit to gets done. So when I saw this silly little quiz, I thought the results would be interesting, but instead, they are pretty much what I expected.

You Are 40% Control Freak

You have achieved the perfect balance of control and letting go. You tend to roll with whatever life brings, but you never get complacent.

Are You A Control Freak?

Training Readers

Late last night, one of the catechumens in our parish asked what Compline is. I hesitated about answering the question because it wasn't directed to me, but I knew that she is a person who needs "meat", so I went ahead and answered it.

As I was writing, and then rewriting for clarity, I realized that the information I was giving her is really the sort of information that Readers need. We don't seem to do very well with training Readers here in the US. I don't know what they do in Russia or elsewhere, but here, there is really no emphasis on training readers prior to tonsuring. Usually, men get pressed into service at Vespers or another service, and learn by doing. This is very, very valuable, but its not the whole story.

It seems to me that there are two "tracks" -- there are the readers who do just that, read whatever is put in front of them whenever they are told to read. These readers need only to concentrate on producing clearly understood chanting. These may be men, or women, or even children. This is is what most readers do.

The second track requires more in-depth training for future choir directors or men who may be tonsured in the future. These people need more than just vocalizing, pitch matching and fluent reading, they need to begin building up foundational liturgical knowledge. This is what excites me about the Readers Class that my pastor wants me to teach, and I know that by researching and teaching this, I will only improve my own understanding and knowledge. Its a win-win situation!

I also see the need to teach the choir how to read music and sight singing, perhaps using solfege with a moveable do, which is how I pitch the choir anyway, as well as teaching them basic voice placement and production and breathing. I've got a young teen in my choir with a very sweet voice and some musical talent that I would like to help her develop. I think she could grow into choir directing in the future. Also, for many personal reasons, I believe that learning more about music, and directing, would be something very positive for her. I've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Her father and I spoke at length about her love of music and other things; he agreed 100% with me and gave me his blessing to push her if necessary. If I were to also teach the rudiments of music reading and vocal production at the Reader's Class, then perhaps I could train a Canonarch or two. This would allow us to do antiphonal chanting/singing in our new church, which will be such a joyous sound!!!! It should also be very engaging for the parishioners - I mean, who can go on autopilot and zone out when the verses are joyously bouncing from side to side of the nave??!?

As I was formulating my very brief explanation of Compline last night, I realized that I really need to spend some time on the Readers Services before I begin the Readers Training Class. It would be useful for potential readers to receive outlines of the various services and some understanding of the structure of the various services as well as their historical and cyclical context - especially the future tonsured readers and choir directors.

So, as I was writing, tried to put my answer in context. I'm posting it here so that I don't lose it and can flesh it out more for the Readers Class.

I guess its really a good thing that I'll be unemployed soon, hopefully for a short while, because that gives me time to work all this out and prepare lessons and handouts etc., as well as to work on my iconography.

If only I could pay my bills by doing the things I love -- like preparing this class, teaching it, iconography, etc....


=============================
As the Choir Director and the host for compline this week, I'll take your question on.

We know from the Acts of the Apostles that the early followers of Jesus prayed at certain hours of the day and night. This ancient Jewish custom evolved into the daily cycle of prayer of the Church. This daily cycle of prayer marks the passage of each day and occurs at seven set times, assisting us in fulfilling our Lord's command to pray always and to keep watch with the Church. The appointed times are basically every three hours, beginning at six in the morning and ending around midnight. Each service is called an "hour" no matter how long or short it is. All the hours together keep us engaged constantly in the work of glorifying God.

We follow the ancient Jewish custom of marking the day from sunset to sunset, so the day begins with Vespers at sunset (commonly held around 6 pm); then Compline (the after-dinner prayer) around 9 pm; Nocturns or the Midnight Hour; Matins and the First Hour (the longest service of the day), the Third, Sixth and Ninth Hours (corresponding to nine a.m., noon and three p.m.)

Compline was originally a strictly monastic service, prayed by individual monks alone in their cells, but over the centuries, it took on a communal, public character and evolved into the form we see today. Just like Vespers, there is a lesser form and a greater form, served with or without a priest. I won't confuse you with all the details of the differences between the two - an entire book could be written, and I am no expert. Here at St. Mary's, we pray Little Compline as a Reader's Service (meaning, without a priest) on the Saturdays when Fr. James is in Helena. We've been doing this for a couple of years now.

The basic structure of Little Reader's Compline goes like this: It begins with the Trisagion, or Thrice-Holy prayers; Psalms 50, 69, 142, the Doxology, the Creed, a Canon if specified, the vesperal Stichera of the day, the Thrice-Holy again, ending with the special prayers designated for the day of the week and the dismissal.

Compline will be at 6 pm at my house on Saturday this time around. You are certainly welcome to come. Give me a call on Saturday and let me know if you are coming, and I will give you directions.

Worry-Wort or Pollyanna?

I am really, really worried.

First of all, I'm worried for E's health. She hasn't been well since last January when she caught the GI flu that was going around. She vomited violently for a couple of days in January, and was completely wiped out by it. It took a long time for her to regain any energy at all. Since then, she has had ongoing stomach problems. She tells me that she wakes up nauseous most mornings, but it goes away in a couple of hours. I've told her that maybe its because she's got an upset stomach and she should eat some crackers when she first wakes up, just like for morning sickness, but I don't think that she is taking my advice, at least not regularly. Water tastes bad to her now, so she drinks juice, milk or soy milk. She used to LOVE to have a glass of wine, but now, the mere thought of it is sickening. She doesn't even drink the zapivka at church any more. I can cook with wine and that doesn't affect her, but its weird to pull out a bottle of wine and not have her begging for just a taste. She spends a day in bed being lightheaded and nauseous each month. She doesn't actually vomit then, but she is sick enough that she will have to stay home from school when this happens. Over the last month or so, she's vomited a lot. For her, at least, its a lot. I stayed home from church on Sunday twice in June because she was vomiting, or had vomited during the night. Last Sunday, she suddenly had to vomit at trapeza, barely made it to the ladies room, and then we quickly left. She vomited all the way home, and continued vomiting the rest of the day, and was nauseous on Monday and Tuesday as well. By Wednesday, 7/5, she felt better and was fine until yesterday, Sunday. Yesterday, she was fine until the evening when she vomited again. She doesn't have a fever with all of this. She and I eat almost exactly the same food, so its not food poisoning over and over. She might have some kind of food sensitivity or allergy, so I'm having her keep a food diary for a week or two. I think there may be a psycho-emotional layer to this, since whenever she gets really upset or stressed, she gets an upset stomach. But then again, last night she told me that she doesn't feel particularly stressed right now.

What I'm really worried about is whether the cancer is back or not. If its not stress and its not food allergies, then it must be something more serious. If not cancer, then maybe irritable bowel, Crohns, colitis, gastritis.... pancreatitis has nausea as a sign, I think. I can't remember what else --- its been a long time since I did medical transcription.

I'm worried about her health. I have to make an appt for her to get checked, but not until she gets a week or two of a food diary written down.There is definitely something wrong, though. I pray that its nothing serious, and especially that its not a recurrence of cancer. I'm scared.

My second major worry is that I won't find a job here in low-paying Savannah that pays enough for me to live. I really don't want to move and leave my cheerful little house and the support system I have here, but I would do it for the right job. The funding for my program is ending for sure at the end of August, and I've sent out about 15 resumes in response to known openings, without even a nibble. I'm starting to think about ways to become self employed at this time because well-paying middle-management positions in Savannah are pretty hard to find. I don't want to leave this area because we've been through too much upheaval in our lives as it is, but I would for the right job. I don't think my back will allow me to become a personal chef, so I'll have to figure out something else. I'm very worried.

Deep in my heart, I know that things will work out eventually, because they always do. But still, I'm worried. And I'm tired of always carrying the load. It would be so wonderful to have someone to help carry some of this, but that is not to be. I've never had anyone to help me, so why would someone come along right now? I'll get through this just like I've gotten through everything else - by putting one foot in front of the other and trying to do the right thing. I need prayer. I need to pray for myself. I never do that, but I should. I need to redouble my prayers for my daughter, too. I'm just, I don't know, I'm upset and worried about everything. At least my relationships with others seem to be ok and I don't have to spend my precious peace of mind on anything other than my daughter and my job search. *THAT* is a blessing!

See, there's always SOMETHING!

I'm a jam cookie

You Are a Jam Cookie

On the outside, you project a straight-laced, innocent vibe. But on the inside, you're complex, exotic, and full of flavor.

What Kind of Cookie Are You?

Six Things Meme

In the six things thread, I get to reveal six "unusual or little known" things about myself.

1. I'm not REALLY an only child. Yes, its true that my parents had only one child - me, but I have two sister/cousins, Ethel and Roseanne. See, my grandmother owned a two family house on B St. (later made into a three family house)where she lived with my grandfather, one unmarried daughter (Auntie Nettie), one married daughter and her husband (Auntie Anna and Uncle Harold), two of Auntie Anna's daughters (Roseanne and Terry) and one of Uncle Tony's daughters (Ethel). The family relationships are too convoluted for this post. My parents had an apartment a couple of blocks away when I was born, but I went to Grammies for a few weeks first. I grew up as much in my Grammie's house as I did in my own, sharing a dormitory bedroom with Ethel, Ro, Terry, Grammie and Auntie Nettie. I spent a couple of months in the fall and in the spring living there when my parents were in NH at the Inn and I had to go to school in MA. As Ethel, Ro and Terri had families of their own, they lived in that house as well, and I continued to live there part-time... So, I have the experience of sharing a bed and bedrooms, and putting up with nosy older sisters and nosy younger sisters as well. I may be an only child by birth and maybe even by temperament, but not by experience.

2. I learned early that there is a lot of heartbreak in life. Lots of death, lots of sickness, lots of separation, lots of tragedy. But I also learned early that there is a lot of laughter and joy and love as well. Life is messy, love is messy, and if you can't deal with the messiness of human relationships, you might as well cash in your chips. I learned this early by watching my grandmother cope. She was the coolest lady I know.

3. I used to be fluent in Spanish because I lived in Mexico as a child. Yes, my parents owned Clearwater Inn in Sunapee, NH before I was born, and after I was born, they decided to continue running it in the warm weather, from Memorial Day to Columbus Day basically, and spend the cold weather months in Mexico. So, until I went to school, I wintered in Mexico with them. My mom became fluent in Spanish as well, and my Dad was passable, but couldn't help pronouncing everything as you would in French. Weird.

4. My college career is pretty checkered - I studied everything. Yeah, I picked my college because it was cheap and was directly on an MBTA route so I didn't need a car to get there. I didn't have a clue as to what I wanted to do - the things I enjoyed the most and were best at --- well, I just wasn't good enough to make a career as an artist or a musician. Or so I thought. So I went to Boston State College and aimlessly majored in cafeteria for 2 1/2 semesters, took 2 semesters off, and returned to full time study, year round, for five more years. I took every course that was interesting to me. I majored in French and minored in Spanish, switched to Biology with minors in music and art, then switched to Psychology with minors in music and art. Along the way, I took every course (and then some) needed for majors in English Literature and History except for the senior practicum/project.

5. I am painfully shy and lack a lot of social skills. I have a hard time functioning in front of people - but I do it anyway. I sometimes say that I overcompensate, and I think that's true. Most people do not believe me when I say this, because all they see is the Denise I play, and I play her very, very well - I grew up in a hotel, so I can turn it on and off. But the Denise in real life is quite tentative, emotional, lacks self esteem, is jack of all trades and master of none, and is afraid of failure and rejection.

6. Some little known facts: I love gardenias because they were my grandmother's favorite flower and I always think of her. My wedding bouquet was copied from my mother's in every way, except instead of an orchid, I chose a gardenia in memory of my grandmother. I don't have a favorite color - every color has its own beauty, IMHO. I wish I owned the Inn still - if I ever hit the number, I will buy it back. My mother's ashes are in my closet, just as she and I discussed, and I say good morning and good night in my heart to her every day. My pets: the chihuahuas - Scampie, Dona Bandita (Dona), Dona Carla (Carla); the mutt - Rhett Butler (aka Stupid) who was half long haired dashaund and half beagle; the rescue dog - Charalambos (Harry) the lhasa apso who looked into my eyes at the pound and I fell in love; and my current dog, Puccini (Poochie) the shih tzu who loves me to death. Also the kitten Maybelle Sweet Maybelle, and the guinea pigs Dots and Ginger, as well as E's fish: Dawn and Joanna and the seven beta fish named Michael. I'm afraid of birds, especially when they are flying near me, but I've gotten much better than I used to be. I hate housecleaning. I can't stand country music but I like bluegrass and folk music. I adore opera and classical music. Whenever I look at pretty red shoes, I hear my grandmother saying that only puttanas wear red shoes, so I don't buy them, though I have had a couple of pair of burgundy shoes.... and I don't let my daughter wear them either. My eyes are not really dark brown - they are a golden brown with charcoal gray around the edges, and extra large pupils, so they appear dark, but they aren't. I fit the crunchy granola stereotypes. I love lobster. I'm lazy and a procrastinator.

Funny that I would want to explain myself to who? Who reads this? Why reveal all this stuff? Why just put it out in the universe like this? Why the need to be known by someone, now that Mom is gone? I just miss her so much. I had no idea how intertwined we were until she was gone. I really thought that it would get better, this yearning for her, but it hasn't. And now I yearn for my father as well, since only his body remains, but most everything that makes him himself is gone.

An Orthodox Meme

1. My saint is the Theotokos. I didn't choose her - she chose me. When my mother was pregnant with me, she didn't have any girl names, and when I was born, she said, "I finally have my Denise Marie." And so she did. When I finally took the plunge and converted to Orthodoxy, Fr. John didn't even ask me if I wanted a patron saint - he used Mary since that was already my name. But over the years, I have found that the Theotokos is a never ending source of inspiration and love for me. Her "Yes!", though God's plan was incomprehensible to her, is something I try to emulate, with profoundly sad success. I need to understand. Everything. All the time. But I keep trying to be more like her, though I fail miserably. And now that my mother is dead, I have no other mother to turn to. Unto the Mother of God, let us sinners and humble ones now diligently have recourse, and let us bow down in penitence, exclaiming from the depths of our souls: O Sovereign Lady! Help us, having compassion on us. Show zeal for we perish with the multitude of our sins. Turn not thy servants away empty, for we have thee as our only hope! Painting the Platytera for St. Nicholas Church was one of the most profound spiritual experiences, very intense - so intense that I couldn't work at it steadily.

2. St. Elizabeth the mother of John the Baptist - I also longed for a child for many years. I used to pray that she would somehow convince God to give me a miracle baby. And He did. I named her Elizabeth.

3. St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco - some people question whether he was a saint or not, and whether he was incorrupt or not, but I don't. I know people who knew him and don't think much of him, and some who think a lot of him. I guess his personal hygiene put a lot of people off... but all I know is that when I visited his tomb, I had the most profound experience of what I believe to be holiness that I have ever had. I went there specifically to pray for a baby. One month later, I was pregnant - a miracle pregnancy. I am forever grateful to him, because I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he interceeded for me.

4. St. Joseph the Betrothed - this is my father's Christian name, and all nice French boys have Joseph as a middle name. But its not just love for my own father that makes me love St. Joseph - its the tender duty of faithfully providing a home for the Theotokos and Jesus - everything that a man and a father should be. Like my father.

5. St. Sophia with her Three Holy Children, St. Sophia of the Never-Ending Cup and St. Sophia the Mother of Orphans - Sophia means Wisdom, and I wanted to name my daughter Sophia. It's still my most favorite name. But its not the beauty of the name or how it rolls off my tongue that makes these saints so special to me - its the different ways that they manifested wisdom in their lives that speak to me. I hope I never have to defend my faith, but if I do, I hope I can urge my daughter to defend it as faithfully. I hope that I, too, can wisely husband my resources and provide limitless hospitality and love to those who desperately need it. I hope that I can provide a safe haven for not only my daughter, but for everyone who comes through my door. I took St. Sophia as our homeschool's patron saint because if you have wisdom, you have everything.

6. I have a great respect and fondness for the hymnographer saints, particularly St. Romanos the Melodist and St. Ephraim the Syrian. I'm still learning about some of the others, but I have to say that my life mirrors St. Romanos' life. I also could'nt sing a note and people would ask me to stop singing because I stunk so bad. But one day, I was asked to join a church choir just because the director couldn't stand to have a peanut gallery during rehearsals, and shortly thereafter, my voice began to improve. Suddenly, I was a good singer. It was a miracle, truly, because if you had heard me before....... blech.

7. Blessed Maria Skobtsova - She is a saint for our times, a worldly, cultured, educated woman who led a normal life in an extraordinary way, in times that were far from ordinary. She kept her focus on the one thing needful, and let everything else go by the wayside. This has caused some people to feel she isn't "holy" or "Orthodox" enough, but she is a real inspiration for me. She did what needed doing, at great cost to herself, even to losing her life, and she did it all because she saw the image of God in everyone. I wish I could get past people's .... peoples SELVES enough to see God in everyone.

8. Whatever saint I am currently researching for an icon. When I am painting, I feel such love and closeness to the saint, and I pray that he or she will find my meager offering acceptable and will guide my hand. Currently, I'm working on St. Melangell of Wales and St. Genevieve of Paris. When these are done, I'll go on to St. Christina of Tyre for the mission in Fremont and then maybe St. Thekla for myself.

Goodbye, dear Cousin

Yesterday, Sheila sent out an email that intimated that Kathy has very little time left. It was a tough day at work after finding out that for SURE that I'm losing my funding, and as I was driving back to work after lunch, I really needed to touch home, so I called Roseanne and left a message. When she called me back, we talked about a lot of things, mostly Kathy and Mothers Day, and how scary it was, especially for her at 70, that her peers were dying. I was struck with a real, palpable terror of her and Ethel dying, almost as much as when I would think of my mother dying. I was melancholy all day, and wanted to sleep.

When I checked my email when I got home from I Cantori late last night, I got an email from Sheila saying that Kathy had died minutes before, and there was a beautiful picture of her and Joe as preschoolers, with his arm around her. That's how they were throughout their life, weren't they? They were so close. She followed him pretty much everywhere he went throughout her life.

Now that I've watched my mother die, and have lived without her for more than a year, my heart is broken for Sheila, Nicky and Kathleen. And also for June, Maryann and Emily. The alone-ness and forever of death is such a constant ache. It never goes away. Never.

In America, when we talk about cousins, they are sort of on the periphery of our adult lives. But what I've learned, since I'm one of the few who has moved away from Cieri epicenter, is that time and space don't affect the love, the complete comfort and acceptance, the shared history, the remembrance of times and places and people long past. Now is forever tied together with yesterday in the person of cousins.

Who else remembers Kathy as a young teen? I do. As a candystriper spending long hours at my mother's bedside after her first surgery. As a shapely teen working at our inn together with Ethel and Terry. What a summer that was! So many memories of NH and Uncle Nicky and Joe and Kathy with us, the B Street group.

But what I need to say about Kathy right now, just hours after she has gone on to become her true self in heaven, is that she was only ten years older than me, but she is the only person in my life, including my parents, who took an active interest in my spiritual life. Even when I was about 10 or 12, before I started my major questioning and spiritual searching, she must have recognized something in me, and talked with me about God and her experience of Him, and she took me into her home a number of times so that I experience worship in a more engaging way. And she did this when the rest of the family was incredulous that she and Joe Boy had found religion at all -- the two sinners par excellence - one just a bad, worldly boy, and the other a crunchy granola type before it was fashionable - and everyone denigrated their lifestyle choices. But she was brave enough to either not care, or just bear it, and take a particular interest in me, a snotty, know it all, agnostic kid, and try to guide me towards God. No one else spent any energy on my spiritual life and my relationship with God. Just Kathy.

I'm not sure why she did that, except that we are family, and she loved me. She certainly did love my mother, and my mother always, always had Kathy in a special place in her heart, and was always, always grateful to her for her care of my grandmother and her care of her. And maybe some of that spilled over onto me.

I always thought that Kathy was beautiful. And when she lost her hair and was bald last year, I thought she was really, really beautiful. She always had lovely eyes and a beautiful smile. I didn't care that her lifestyle was different. I don't think anyone else did either, though we never spoke about it. I never cared that she became a charismatic Catholic, though the spontaneous prayer thing makes me very uncomfortable. Everyone else thought her lifestyle was a little weird, up there in Weare in a log home.... but I loved her home.

So, now, Kathy and Joe are together again, with so many other loved ones. I wonder if, when we die, we recognize each other in our transformed state? The urge to love flesh and blood family is so unquenchable - can it survive the presence of God? Does it just drop away in the bliss of being in God's presence? God, I hope not. I can't imagine that the terrible pain of separation would not be healed by the comfort of being together again in Heaven. But a joyous family reunion would take our eyes off the throne, wouldn't it? No matter what I personally choose to believe and choose to hope for, it won't be the reality of death and heaven. The only thing we mortals know for CERTAIN is that death will bring us to judgement and to reunion with God, and that will be such a joyous thing that everything and everyone else pales in comparison. It is beyond our human understanding.

But a void in me still hopes to be filled with a reunion with my loved ones. And today I have to add my cousin Kathy to that ever-growing roster. I hate it. Death sucks. When I meet Kathy again in heaven, she will say to me, "See honey? I *told* you God was real!"