Saturday, May 31, 2014

The Darkness Within Plastic Faith


BOOK LINK
  
   I am beginning a series of responsive essays based on Barbara Brown Taylor's newest book. As I work out the words for what Learning to Walk in the Dark speaks to me, I fumble. In the dark, I may offend. But, I hold fast to this: “There is a light that shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John1:5) 

   As I began these essays, I was unsure of the path forward and then it came: I would write my shift from religion to faith. I would write my loss of faith in the institution of Christianity, but my gain of faith in Christ. For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? (Mark 8:36 KJV)

The Darkness Within Plastic Faith

If you have understood, then what you have understood is not God. ~ Augustine

    From the front seat of the land rover, I grab the colorful catalog full of trinkets from a child: faith, hope, and love on strings grace the pages. How charming. I swing for the catalog and then jam it between my car seat and the main console with all the other junk mail. I holler at them, “You can't have that right now, not when we aren't living it!” That settled it, or did it? 
    My kids love the popular catalog of trinkets selling Christianity in bulk for pint sized believers. I ask myself: is this value-added Christianity similar to a McDonald's Happy Meal, but simply with a religious flavor? Do these trinkets of faith represent anything of true happiness, or true substance? Plastic faith leads to plastic people. And plastic faith eventually breaks, like the McDonald's toy or catalog junk. Worse, it could be thrown out by an adult. At church no less. 

    Yes, it's hard to build and live an authentic life filled with true faith. Harder yet in our first world, consumeristic, holier-than-thou, post modern, reasoning culture. If we can consume Jesus with our junk, we've arrived. Yet when plastic faith breaks, we get our hearts broken. If I find myself throwing my faith out, maybe I need to ask if it was ever faith in the first place? Maybe it was just religiousness. Tried and found wanting. Plastic faith and plastic people be damned.

    When our plastic faith has been broken, thrown out, or both, we are now in a place of consummation*: God's altar, but it feels like a consuming fire. His mountain. His presence. His fire. Yet, on His mountain these three remain: faith, hope, and love. In Oregon, the Three Sisters peaks of the Cascade mountain range are named Faith, Hope, and Charity (Love). These peaks remind me that the failure of a plastic faith can propel you and me up the mountain, into the shroud of God. A world containing both dark and light.

    The God of Moses is holy, offering no seat belts or other safety features to those who wish to climb the mountain to enter the dark cloud of the divine presence. Those who go assume all risk and give up all claim to reward. Those who return say the dazzling dark inside the cloud is reward enough.

~ Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

    And so I climb out of religious darkness and its soul wearying ways and onto peaks of truth: Faith, Hope, and Love. But these peaks of truth are often summited in darkness. Seasons of dark unknowing. Faith. This unknowing faith clings to mountain rocks and draws me closer to God. When I can't see in the shroud, I cling to the Rock and rise. 
    To some, this unknowing faith appears as abandonment of God, fellow believers, and finally faith. It's not abandonment. My faith in Christ is intact, but the rules and creeds men have made to define Christ and Christianity have gone by the wayside. Ironically, in Oregon, I'm not alone. We are known as one of the “least churched” states in the nation. On many a Sunday, Oregonians are found in the cathedral of the woods. I used to judge those in their wooded sanctuaries on Sundays. Now, I often want to join them. 
   God may be found in Spirit filled sanctuaries made by men, but He's also found in sanctuaries carpeted with grass, rocks, and water. Christ increased his faith in the woods. He held fast to the mountainous journey he undertook. Filled with God, fully God, He became the sacrament. We too are called to be filled. We too are called to hold the Sacred. Within us. And so I journey up the mountain, into the darkness, and seek to behold the Sacred.

My Soul
Son Sacrament
God Sacred


*Latin for: “to complete” or “to fulfill"

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Living Life and Writing Life

 Reading
 Pondering
     Writing a series I'm titling The Darkness Within in response to Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor, Flannery O'Connor's Prayer Journal, and Speak What We Feel: Not What We Ought to Say by Fredrick Buechner. More words to come, as they come, and as I commit to them.

Entering the Dark Cloud of God sermon by Barbara Brown Taylor.

Hanging
     We spent much of the weekend getting the hang of a new acquisition that is supposed to make our lives easier. Sister called it a pup tent today. I suppose it is that: a pup tent for four, on top of the rig, sans the pup!
There is a ladder on the other side, but why would we use that?
     We learned a bit later in the weekend to make sure your toys fit in the garage before and after adventuring. Set up and settled into, then stuffed full of bedding (to save rig room), the tent no longer compressed enough to fit into the garage upon take down. It was a mere 3" shy of clearance. Ugh! Engineers to the rescue; a solution is in progress. More details to come in Land Rovering with Little People: Tent Triumphant, an article for Rovers North.
 Dodging
 35 dirt balls later, he left the garden.
The residue of his play upon him.
His pile was outfitted and stashed.
Now to find an unsuspecting subject.
His sister perhaps?
But no, not his mother.
She knew. 
She took the hose to him,
giving him ample warning of her ammunition.
His hair smelled like a campfire. 
A heady sweet smoke, skyward bound. 
But his feet bore the aroma of the earth,
and were firmly planted in the soil.

Goodbye
     The robins left without so much a goodbye. Blink. They were gone. Knacky timing on their part. Jack was preoccupied in the garden, most of the day, hunting a fur pellet. He nearly succeeded, save mercy. They did not fail to take advantage of his preoccupations. Smart little things. Robins.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Weekend Adventures

It's good to get out,
and make familiar places new.

 Scaling rocks is good.
 Stillness.
Looking deeply for more, but knowing this is enough, and it is good.
 Studying nature.
Learning respect of wild places and wild creatures.
We need them; they make us human.
They do not need us. We are incidentals.
How often we treat them the same. 
To know, to name, to classify, must once again mean to care.
Let us tread lightly.
This day. It is good.
 Nourish
 ...and let there be ice cream.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Just now...

  Just now, we are thankful for the powerful message of The Giver;
a story that gives much to ponder.
Just now, we are thankful for the power of the page and of story,
for like chalk dust, a good story makes vibrant what it touches.
 Just now, we are thankful for rest.
 Just now, the waves loom large.
The opening feels narrow and restricted.
 But light illuminates the way. Rise above.
 Just now, we are busy fording streams. 
Confident of His grace.
Just now, we are making new discoveries.
Just now, we choose to rest rather than resist.
We choose vulnerability and trust.
Just now, we choose to be. Still. Like the rocks.
Just now, we cherish the small moments, 
for indeed they are the moments.
He is the Rock, the rock eternal. Upon Him shall we stand. Strong.
The waves may pound, but they will not overcome us.
We are on the Rock.

Monday, May 5, 2014

An Oregon Spring

     A bit of Sunday trail time with my favorite girl.
      The morning greets with a rainbow. On the trail, a kingfisher swoops over the creek. Bees hive. Seeds push their way through the earth. Chicks grow and stretch wings. Jack adventures and we anticipate summer roaming.
     The turkeys gobble, strut, and fight for mates. The sole pea hen remains in our local turkey flock. She doesn't fit, but she doesn't notice. 
     In the car we listen to Brene' Brown's, The Gifts of Imperfection. The kiddos get little snippets here and there. We talk of belonging and fitting in and how one idea very often opposes the other. Is not true beauty unique? Why do we so often want to fit in where we don't belong in the first place? Why is it so hard to find places of belonging that mean something? How do we daily work to help each other experience belonging within the embrace of our family?
     There's been nary a moment to write lately. Moments arrive when I feel I've run dry, but I choose to believe I'm gathering strength and fruitfulness - like a seed tucked into good soil. There's a story calling. And it's time to make time. Time must be carved, seized, grasped and harnessed in order to live something worthy of cherishing. Time escapes so quickly, but is harnessed so readily. Reading Ezekiel and Elijah - men who got words. And so the dove calls, and so too, the story. 
 
  The place where your treasure is, 
is the place you will most want to be....

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Little Rabbit's Adventure, a Lenten Story for Your Littles

Little Rabbit's Adventure PDF
Little Rabbit's Adventure ePUB
     Here is a story about a Little Rabbit. As she explores, she learns about patience, perseverance, discovery, listening, and personal discipline. She discovers there's much to learn about her world, and that joy comes from noticing and appreciating the small things she encounters on her trail.  Lastly, she learns to listen to the Gardener and her own inner voice. 

 Little Rabbit's Adventure 
by Kim Conolly

     There once was a Little Rabbit. Everywhere she looked her nose wanted to follow. Over the hedge yonder, her fellow kits played cotton ball. They were good friends, she loved them and they loved her. They didn't always get along, but she learned a lot when she was with them. Her mama said that was what friends were for, to help you become the best you that you could become. But some days, her best play mate was herself.

    Not too far from her home, over a forested hill, was a humongous garden belonging to a Herculean human. It was beautiful! Tall turnips grew in fall, and in winter, parsnips were succulent and sweet after the first frost. But if she admitted it to herself, it was not her garden and she didn't do good things when she went there. She knew in her heart that her visits to the garden never left its neat paths and rows a better place. She knew she was upsetting the garden's owner with the messes she left behind, and she didn't want anyone's heart to hurt because of her– not even for one bite of sweet, tasty carrot. But sometimes, she was tempted.

    She had her own garden as well. In her tenth year, she was expected to garden often and willingly. It was her community's “Work to Eat” program. Long despised by the littles (they hadn't had to think of such things before), she no longer had a choice. “It's time.” her mother would say as she handed her a hoe. But she wasn't good at growing things, at least not yet. She tended her patch sporadicly, because everywhere she looked her nose wanted to follow.

    One day, she was bounding down a favorite rabbit trail. It was not a bunny trail. Real rabbits use rabbit trails, while baby kits use bunny trails. Bunny trails are shorter, safer, and closer to home, but rabbit trails range far and wide. As she headed down the trail, she was stopped short by a purply, pointed plant.

    She'd never seen this plant before. She was still learning there was a lot she didn't know and a lot she hadn't yet seen. Deep in her heart, she recognized that the world was far bigger and wider than what she knew. Sometimes, she was tempted to believe she knew all there was to know, but of course Squirrel would remind her of reality. He saw things from up high that she'd never ever see.

    And her mother had thoughts on knowing it all as well. She could often be heard telling the family to watch out for a pride that says you know it all, all the time. She preferred a youthfulness which recognizes you know it all only some of the time. “Be careful not to become a prideful youth,” her mother would say. Little Rabbit would nod and agree, for this was the easiest way with adults. But now, the purply plant reminded her that Mother was right: no one knew it all, and there were new things to discover if you were willing to look and learn. Poking out of the earth, this small, singularly beautiful, and deeply enchanting purply plant was a clear reminder she'd not yet seen the whole world.

    Settling down on her haunches, she surveyed the perplexing purply plant. Should she eat it? It looked good, really good, but it was small. She rarely stopped for small things. In fact, there wasn't much that stopped her in her tracks, but this plant was beautiful. She thought of Mr. M's garden. She wasn't to snack there, even if the veggies were humongous and amazing. Maybe like Mr M's garden, she should appreciate this plant without eating it. She knew of course, that not everything was for filling one's belly or one's pleasure alone, but her curiosity got the best of her. She licked a soft petal. It had the texture of silky young lettuce, but she didn't munch down. Stepping back, she pondered the petals for a long time, and then heard her mother calling her home. She reluctantly headed in that direction, sure a chore awaited her.

    Sure enough, her mother needed help with the baby kits while she ran to the nearby mulberry tree to deliver a basket of fresh greens to a sick neighbor. As her mother prepared the basket of greens, Little Rabbit tried to describe the plant, but her mother hadn't seen one before. “Mothers don't know everything.” she said. “Sometimes, you have to look and listen, and then you'll find your answer. But this takes time,” she warned.

    Time. Little Rabbit never had enough. Somehow, she felt that a long time ago, she'd had a lot of time. Maybe when she was younger, like the kits. Time had been long and slow, absorbing her into it. “Does growing up mean never having enough time?” she wondered. At this age, her rabbit trails kept her busy, even before chores.
Slow down,” her mother would say. “You're young, for Pete's sake. Be patient.”
Who's Pete?” she'd ask.
I'll tell you more about him later,” Mother had said, “but slow down, and stay away from human gardens. Got it?”
Okay, I'll try.” Little Rabbit said.

    When her mother returned home, she was free to head outdoors once more, and she found herself back at the purply plant. She was shocked to discover it had withered and died! Snail was sliding by and Little Rabbit asked him, “What did you do to my purply plant?”
Nothing, young whipper snapper,” said Snail. “It always withers this time of year. Maybe the wind made it wither.”
But I love it, and I want it to come back,” said Little Rabbit.
It will be back,” said the Snail. “Give it time.”
I will sit here until it comes back,” thought Little Rabbit, but soon the afternoon sun began to sink and she heard her mother calling. She'd forgotten all about her chores. Disappointed at her lack of freedom, she headed home.

    She thought silently about it all through the meal, and was now quite sure of the flower's fate. “It's gone, mama.” she said after her dinner and bath. She was tucked in bed, but she couldn't sleep for all her fretting. “It's just plain gone.” wailed Little Rabbit.
Maybe it always goes away at this time of year,” Mother said.
That's what Snail told me, but I don't believe him. He ate it.” Little Rabbit pronounced.
Now listen, you have no reason to doubt him. Don't fret yourself into a bigger problem with a dear friend, even if he is different from you. Snails eat lettuce, not purple things. Besides, he moves very slowly and he's a wonderful noticer. Give him the benefit of the doubt. He doesn't miss a thing at his pace,” said Mother.
Maybe, you're right,” said Little Rabbit, doubtfully. And she stayed awake thinking about the purply plant until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

    The next day her mother had loads of chores for her. Finally, just when she thought she was free, Little Rabbit was instructed to take her mother's seed list and see the Gardener at the seed exchange. “And don't get lost on some rabbit trail today,” Mother informed her.

    She didn't understand the Gardener. He spoke slowly, and in language the Little Rabbit didn't always understand, but she knew the Gardener knew a lot about a lot. “If he knows so much, why is he so quiet?” Little Rabbit muttered to herself, “When I have something to say, I just say it.” She remembered Mother had said,“Some people want you to learn on your own.” She wondered if the Gardener would know about the mysterious purply plant. As she hopped towards the Gardener's shed, she wondered, “How do you ask something, when you're not sure what the question is?”

    Before she knew it, she was at the door of the old rabbit's shed. The Gardener was working silently, steadily sorting and saving seeds. On the table in front of him, pouches of seeds were ready to be delivered by Benjamin. These days, everyone knew where Benny was, at any time of the day, and it sure wasn't a human garden. No, sir! He was busy delivering the Gardener's seeds over the hills and through the vales. The Gardener kept Benjamin busy helping grow new gardens, not eating his way through them. Benny's mother and the Gardener made sure Benny was constructively employed. “What an awful thing,” thought Little Rabbit, but she silently conceded that mothers and Gardeners make a hard team to beat.

    Little Rabbit surveyed the airy shed. She'd never noticed all the drawings on the walls and book filled bins. Finally, she piped up,“I'm here to pick up my mother's seed order Mr. Gardener. She's ready to get planting and she doesn't want to wait for Benny to make it out to our place.”
Spring fever is in the air.” said the Gardener. The urge to plant hits a high note right about now in our little kingdom,” he added.
Some fresh carrots would taste good right about now,” said Little Rabbit.
As long as you don't get it from Mr. M's place. Right?” the Gardener chimed in.
Right,” Little Rabbit giggled. She sobered and then added, “It isn't worth the headache...or the hind-ache!”
Your mother's packet is laying just there. In it, you'll find everything your mother loves to plant, and I added something just for you,” said the Gardener.
Really? What?” Little Rabbit asked.
Snail mentioned your purply plant. Tell me about it.” said the Gardener.
Should she tell the Gardener about licking the little plant? “Oh, no!” she thought, “I'll end up like Benjamin, running around on adult errands all day long!” She would leave the licking part out.
Well, I found a beautiful purply plant on my favorite rabbit trail,” she said, “but I was not tempted to eat it, pick it, play with it, or give it away. I just enjoyed looking at it, but it withered and now I'm sad,” lamented Little Rabbit.
You weren't tempted to taste it, not even a little lick?” the Gardener inquired.
How did you know?” said Little Rabbit with a worried frown.
Just a hunch,” said the Gardener with a smile. “Don't be sad. Your plant is not dead, but its bloomed as long as it can in this season of its life. It's time for it to become small once more, and gather energy from the earth, that it might grow again next year.”
Gardener, why does it take so long to wait for something you really want to happen, but it takes no time at all for chores and bedtime to arrive?”
Ah, that is Earth time for you, but Real Time is not like that,” remarked the Gardener. “Real Time lives in the present, and is content with what is happening here and now.”
Well, I'll never be patient, and therefore, never know Real Time,” thought Little Rabbit sadly, but she said, “Mother says I should slow down, but I don't know how.”
Mothers are good people, Little Rabbit, and now you best get home. I'm sure she's wondering about her seeds, and you. It will soon be dark, and that's not a time for Little Rabbit to be out and about. And don't worry, you'll not be kept busy like Benjamin – sounds like you have something you need to tend to already.” said the Gardener with a wide grin.

    Tucking the envelope in her front pocket, Little Rabbit thanked him and headed home. She wondered about his words. He said seeds need time, rest, and love to grow beautiful. Did other things work that way too, she thought? And how did he know she'd licked the plant? She thought about the Gardener all the way home.

    “Beauty blossoms best in its own time,” the Gardener had said. “Like the purply plant, there's a right time to burst forth and shine. All life pokes its head up, timidly at first. It's really quite hard, pushing through the hard earth. But then the plant arrives and is beautifully present. Radiant, her petals reflect the Creator's light. But her real life is hidden deep inside, and every year, her energy stores need to be replenished and renewed, and so she hides away to rest once more. You think she's died because she's withered, but she hasn't. She's soaking up energy deep under the earth. She'll be back next spring, to brighten your rabbit trail once more.”

    The next morning, as the sun rose, Little Rabbit ran down her beloved rabbit trail. She felt wildly happy for she'd escaped her chores – at least for a bit. With the seed from the Gardener tucked in her pocket, she arrived at her favorite spot. Snail was not in sight. She found the withered purply plant, and decided it was not sad, nor should she be, pondering the Gardener's words once more. She dug a little hole and poked the seed into the earth. The sun, rain, and soil did their part. The seed grew and soaked up the spring rains and warm sun, then burst its casing.

    Little Rabbit checked on her seed every day. Lots of other trails beckoned, but she bounded down this trail with joy. She was sure something was happening deep within the soil. The Gardener had told her, “Enjoy the wait.” He had said, “Enjoy it all,” And she did; she really did.

    As she waited, she noticed the forest she had missed before, the sound of the rocky brook, and the charm of the Squirrel's tail as he bounded about the meadow for sheer exhilaration. She enjoyed his company when he would sit still. “Each new spring is like being born brand new to him,” she thought, and she marveled with him at the wonders of the fresh green valley. Spring was like a “first, everything” all over again.

    She noticed the flushing of the forest evergreens, their tips hanging with a new pale green growth, and she saw buds forming in the apple orchard. The robin's breast, oh my, it was red. How had she not noticed him before in the apple orchard as the weather warmed up? He was delightful hopping about with his feathered friends. But, she saw only one bee. “Was it a scout bee?” she wondered. She hoped the bees would come soon and make a home near the orchard. She knew they were important for flowers and fruit. Her mama had called it, “poll-in-a-tion”. For the first time ever, she wondered how she might help these small creatures. Was this growing up? Caring for more than just yourself? Or was it about waiting and wanting and not noticing the waiting and wanting? She really wanted her seed to come up, but she also didn't want to rush it. She now knew it would come in its own time. Racing and rushing around would not make it come faster, nor would it make the wait longer or slower. Time just was. Time took what it needed and only that, just what it needed.

    And then it happened. She and Squirrel were talking about the bees, when Snail strolled by.
There's a present waiting for you,” said Snail.
Oh, where? Why? It's not my birthday yet,” exclaimed Little Rabbit.
Not that kind of present,” said Snail, “a present from the Gardener.”
My seed!” shouted Little Rabbit and she raced to the old oak and resting purply crocus. Sure enough, a sprout was poking its way through the earth. A green snippet of life. “Oh, what could it be!” she wondered as she raced home. Bursting through the warren, she exclaimed, “Mama! Mama! Come see! I grew something beautiful!” And having finished her pronouncement, she bounded out the door once more, and headed to where the forest meets the meadow and good things grow.

Copyright 2014 Kim Conolly

We Survived the Survival Party!

The Year of the Explorer.
Can you spot Jack the kitty?

Time for fire. There's several ways to light a fire in Oregon's wet weather.
Teams of two each got their own fire pit to light.
Smore's, hotdogs, and cocoa on the porch while they talked about water and filtration.
Last was orienteering to find the cache of edible crickets - survival food!
   Eight boys, a deputy, and a dad had a lot of fun. Even the mama's and grand parents learned a thing or two! It drizzed, but did not pour, for which we are very thankful!