Psalm 10 17-18 or Just another day in Lower Price Hill

O Lord, you will hear the desire of the meek,
you will strengthen their hearts;
you will incline your ear
to do justice to the orphan and the oppressed
so tht people on earth may strike terror no more

Today I had the humbling and terrifying opportunity to see this scripture up close and personal. I had a meeting at State Avenue UMC, to discuss how to further be the presence of GOD in this crumbly and forsaken neighborhood in Lower Price Hill.

It is a harsh reality in these streets. Bounded by overpasses to major highways, roadways cut through the small neighborhood, dissecting and distancing the residents from the rest of the Cincinnati area.

Abandoned buildings sit along side the buildings that serve as shelter and homes for many. Litter and garbage are the landscape, along with the languid bodies of those who sit on stoops, sidewalks or linger on the sign posts. Dogs bark frantically, traffic noises from th overpasses drum their insistant, gotta get outta here, beat into the air, day and night.

Yet here are people, children, families, all creations of a loving and compassionate GOD. There is laughter, there is music. And there is pain. My heart simply was overwhelmed as I turned my car towards the "way out" and found myself face to face with a reality seldom seen by those outside these streets.

While some would be horrified (rightly so) at the amount of debris and despair on display.... I couldn't help but wonder about the lives and dreams of those I passed by.... as I looked around, the image of Christ broken and bleeding on the cross captured me at every glance, from every direction....

We had communion this week at State Avenue. Pastor Nilsa's communion liturgy did not come from the UM Hymnal or any other "scholarly" theological source. It came from the depth of her soul, as the pastor of this hurting and broken community; one condemned by society, abandoned and brutalized in the most heinous manner.... caught between the crosses of other thiefs who have stolen the dignity and sanctity of the people here. Crucified on the cross of poverty, race, culture and addiction- left by the "good people" of the day to die in shame and horror...

And yet Pastor Nilsa saw beyond all this, and re-membered this fractured tortured body as that of the beautiful body of Christ.... given so that ALL might have life, restored and renewed in hope and mercy. I wept my way through her words, as I held the hands of those at the table of mercy and grace,
a rag-tag band
of strugglers, survivors;
the addicted, afflicted,
rejected and neglected;
pastors, professors,
children, aged.

As we shared communion, one young girl barely two years old caught me eye. Pastor Nilsa offered communion wafers to her and her sister, they each grasped this special "cracker" with great delight, holding it up for their mom to see. As the cups of juice were offered, the older sister, confidently took her's in hand, while the younger sister, quickly disengaged her hand from Mom's and eagerly thrust her pudgy little hand up to receive this wonderful cup. On her face was the broadest, sweetest smile... pure and eager in its response to this next "action'

At that moment, I beheld GOD.... calling me, calling each of us, to receive this remarkable feast in this manner- with confidence, joy and eagerness. No matter how broken or stained or horrific our actions are before GOD, in this moment of communion, we are restored.
Forgiven
Accepted at the table of mercy and grace as a beloved child of the Good Creator.

It has been years since I have approached the table of grace with this kind of sheer eagerness, confidence and joy. God moved in my heart, reaching deep into the broken damaged places that I try to hide, and in the act of a child, reminded me to come as I am. To the Gospel Feast, to lay down my own self righteousness and need to be "holy" and simple reach out with confidence and love to receive the gift of GOD for the people of GOD.

I have mulled over this moment, and the message today from driving through the streets of despair and degradation call me to a new sense of communion. We see the suffering of Christ daily in our midst.... but all too often we simply hurry by- or avoid eye contact. Or think what a shame... there is no beauty, no hope there. There in lies our problem.... we do not SEE Christ- we see hopelessness and horror.... we see the Cross and we turn away.

In communion we are called to share the reconciliation and hope and peace of Christ.

Defend the needy and the poor, let justice and peace abound

This is what God is calling me to be and do and live for
in this community of my family in Lower Price Hill.
To accept them as they are, to love them as GOD created them,
and to work for a world, a community, a Church
where they will be welcomed at the table
and not left hanging on the cross.

May God grant me the wisdom to move with compassion as these days of wonder and discovery unfold.

of mists, memories and mornings

Another morning rolls off the back of night wrapped in mists and dew.
I wake up slowly this day, a day that promises to be like many others,
and yet unlike any other I have ever known.

Life in it's inevitable course sends us up and- down along roads and byways that sometimes lead us to deadends, and at other times, bring us home.

This road I have traveled has had it's fill of detours, misdirections and deadends... it has also carried me to places of joy, peace and calm... and yet I am still traveling trying to find home.

They say home is where your heart is. My heart while it still beats in this aging body, is on the road traveling along, sometimes running, sometimes out of breath, and sometimes totally lost. But I wander on, still looking for home, praying for home....carrying home in me.

Home is where you discover GOD resides in those who take the time along the way to share their journey, their heart with you. Here's a prayer that we all find a heart that holds our home, as we open our hearts to be homes for others.

My heart is a home for the homeless, come on in, there is plenty of room inside.

Freckle Faced at 50

Freckles, the bain of my existence since I can remember. What kid wants freckles? Not this girl. no way no how... and yet there they were, and still are some 50 years into this life of mine.

You get used to them, after awhile. Just like all the jokes and comments that are either meant to tease or comfort, 'cause well, after all what are you gonna do about them- they grow on you :)

Oh yes, there are creams to cover or hide them... staying out of the sun doesn't work either- especially if you are a rambunctious red-headed tomboy who loved being in the midst of whatever was going on, wherever.

I recently ran across some old photo's of a much younger me, and sure enough, the child me was resplendent in her grin, freckles and out of control hair... funny how not much has changed after all... despite the years of trying to conform to standards of beauty and behavior that simply didn't, well fit :)

Re-membering her.. the child/girl now a grown "mature" woman- I can't help but wish to go back and tell the younger me that it will be okay- that all the distractions and standards that define behavior and beauty are simply that, distractions. That one day she will simply learn to look in a mirror and say, "good morning beloved" and that the face reflected there is the map and legend of a life lived in spite of, as well as in tune, with the inner song and beauty we each possess.

Sometimes we forget to sing our own song, and rely on the karoake versions to carry us along. But if we stay tuned in to our inner self- the essence of who and whose we are... we begin to embrace our differences as part of our own unique offering to the mosaic of community. I have learned this the hard way, by trying to sing others words, be what others have thought or demanded, and have come to a point where I can now re-member the girlchild Jeanne and embrace her whimsy and curiousity and tenacity with confidence and giggles.... and yes the freckles too!

My new anthem is "Freckles" by Natasha Bedingfield give it a listen;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8Uv3fJRe1c

So now my freckled 50 year old face smiles, grins and carries on, much like the girlchild- only a bit slower, but still loving every minute of it !

Haiku

Another exericise from Inspired... one that made me think and then stop thinking and let the words and rhythms flow, a reminder that inspiration cannot and should not be so controlled that the heart and soul are forgotten.

sitting on the beach
waiting for inspiration
to come and join me

God moves quietly
whispering the words to heal
my weary soul ache

waves of mercy pulse
upon the sand demanding
release on the shore

i venture again
into the living water
reborn, restored. Whole

Inspired! A SL writing circle

I am part of a collective writing group in SecondLife, we meet weekly to refine our skills of observation, inspiration and life... This is the first weeks writing prompt- could only use words proscribed by dear Gem- and of course I took liberties and added a few other words...:0 However the end results for all of us were remarkable....

Behold the beauty of the forest at my window!
God's power displayed in full authority over the earth.
The shining stars awaken stirrings within my soul
shadows and light entwine, a paradox of time and eternity.

Flowers sing like children the song of GOD's love and joy
exploding their colors and scent afresh upon the ground.
The Goddess touches my brow with gentle fingers,
guiding my eyes to see the grace and wisdom
unfolding by the lake, in myriad colors and shapes
the presence of the HOLY awakening in creation

Concrete Canyon

Saturday Afternoon in the Concrete Canyon

Listen to the wind whistle down
The concrete canyon
Stillness at hand,
The asphalt rivers cut through
The concrete walls,
Little life flows along their blackened surface.
The stillness is interrupted by the random
Call of the Holla back and shout out birds,
And the strident trumpeting of
hoopties and lo- riders:
resplendent in their spinners and hi-gloss sheen.
Church bells call out the cadence of passing
Minutes and hours
And the hum of life is hushed and slow,
As if anticipating the time when
The lights flip on, and once again
The asphalt and concrete fill with
The symphony of night music-
But for now, the wind whistles
Through the concrete canyon,
The asphalt river runs dry,
And the only sounds are those
Of anxious anticipation
Of the evening to come..

Long Time Gone

Woe is me... it's been a loooooonnnngggg time since I posted, hopefully this will remedy that situation, or not, we'll see how the muse inspires today. :)

Some ramblings from the core that I didn't have time (or rather make time) to place here...

An Evening in April

Evening out with the girls
Sitting around the table with
Ample amounts of wine,
sharing stories and dreams,
Our laughter fills
As we step away from the tasks
Of the day,
And spend time simply in the company
Of each other.

Pour another glass of wine,
Sip deeply and slowly and savor
The perfection of a spring evening
The circle of friends, the exchange of
Memories, hopes and dreams

The morning will come all too soon with
New demands and distractions to face.
Leaving a lingering smile in our memories
As again we resume the daily routines
That makes up our lives, our loves, our being

But for now, in this nearly perfect moment,
As daylight turns to dusk,
And the hint of summer to come sits in the air
Like the fragrance of the blooming lilacs
We celebrate the joy of our connected energies.
Capturing this moment in time
A memory photograph of delight and discovery
As hearts open to the intoxicating flavor
Of our shared togetherness.