The unique place called: Iona

Insights on Iona:

• Iona is where you luggage driver is the bartender at night at the pub and bakes bread for the bakery in the morning.
• Midsummer Murders (think murder she wrote but bettter) could never be filmed here because one episode would wipe out an entire family (Each episode has 3 murders, the town has 135 permanent  residents)
• Iona is gorgeous!
• 3 restaurants in town, only one that you can pop in without reservations.
• “Not all who wander are lost” (CS Lewis or JRR Tolkien), Me: Here: I wander and am mostly always lost
• Sheep do not give directions regardless of how desperately you might be in need of them.
• It rains on Iona a lot (not a big deal if you wear the right clothes and wait 15 minutes because it also stops too)
• Gullies of rain (really called streams) and the path often look alike but are not the same thing. (One is less nice to step in/on)
• I am a fan of fences, they keep animals in their space and humans something to follow to find civilization again.

Iona is beautiful. It’s an island 3 miles long and about a mile wide. It’s easy to get lost on the trails, but not too badly, you will eventually hit water and worst case could follow the coastline back. Again worst case.

I arrived with SUNSHINE! It was gorgeous and not taking these moments for granted, I walked to the Abbey and the Nunnery and toured town (it’s less than a mile from where I am staying to the Abbey. Not knowing when the sun would be back, I took full advantage of its presence, which is good because on Thursday we didn’t see hide the sun at all and we almost saw the sun on Friday....it was brighter.....

Iona is an old island and it is where St Columba established a monastary in the 6th century and  he was buried here (though I believe some of his remains have been removed). It has been a pilgrimage site for hundreds of years with nooks and crannies to discover.

The now Iona Community was established in the 1930’s by George McLeod... which created a prayerful community focused around 1. Prayer, 2. Scripture, 3. Accountability, 4. Social Justice and 5. Meeting together. This community offers morning prayers at 9am and Evening prayers at 9pm. There are several faith communities on the island- the Cowley Brothers (think SSJE in Massachusetts!) have the Bishop’s house on the island and offer Morning prayer at 8am and Compline at 8:15pm and the Catholics gather at 5pm daily and the Presbyterians only meet on Sundays (i think). There are a lot of opportunities for prayerfulness.

My learnings have been on the hikes here. The first day i wandered the trails at the northern tip of the island. Lovely. Wasn’t sure where i was most moments but I figured if i kept the houses in sight i would make it back okay. I had water, a power bar and a warm jacket. Worst case that would be my dinner. (Don’t worry, found a real dinner too!)

The second day i bought a map and set forth to do more of the northern part of the island through the hills. While i can navigate a train station and trains, i seem to be terrible at topographical maps paired with the rain here and trails that aren’t trails and sheep that don’t give directions... I wandered a good bit. I ran into a great group who pointed me out to where i was and then sent me on my way.

The third Day i set out encouraged by my friend who stayed with me that the hike was an easy one to Columba’s Bay (where they think the Saint first arrived- his abbey is 2 miles south-why? More mud for me to hike through)... so off i went. And the wandering began ....Today’s daily office readings talked about “do not judge others lest you be judged”- I was reminded of this when i was hiking into a bay and recalled my thoughts when our host said, “yea last week a hiker broke his ankle on his hike down to Marble Bay and when they found him he had hypothermia”— as i hiked down into a valley I realized my judgement passed on this other hiker thinking “Oh, the novice”—- and found myself looking at this ravine going “OH my!”..... needless to say i wasn’t even on Marble Bay! I survived just fine, no twisted ankles.

The blessing and challenge of Iona is that the trails are not marked with markers or sign posts, the paths allow you to wander, to meander, be lost (with or without a map!) and then return. You are never too far away and yet very isolated. I found myself alone on most of my trails  and realizing the gift of companions on the way and also, if i am the only one out here, how nuts or lost am I?

I finally made it to St Columba’s Bay (they believe he first arrived here due to it’s size and location) and it is beautiful. And it is there i ran into the Norwegians. They came from the other path, the one i thought was too long- uh, it’s the easiest path i have ever hiked here! We had a delightful conversation about the space and hike.

The gift of this island and it’s smallness is that you become community - most stay 2-3 nights. My fellow residents and i had dinner together last night (remember only 3 places to eat at night) and they had helped the Norwegians i met this afternoon when they came across on the ferry. I came across the ferry with a sweet couple who I keep crossing paths with as they are hiking one way and i the other. While we haven’t exchanged names and numbers, we check in with each other and are always thankful to see each other! 

At breakfast the first day we were talking about the journey here. My companion said, “it’s the great equalizer”- everyone has to spend quite a bit of time getting here due to the islands and transportation. No matter if you are a monk, resident, or pilgrim- everyone takes that ferry over!

There were moments on the hikes where i found myself getting frustrated and to turn my mood around i would think, “Well, at least i have hiking boots and not running shoes” or “I am able to hike and be lost” or “THANK YOU LILLY and St John’s for this opportunity”..... and then i would find a road or fence and be okay....

What are the equalizing things in your life?

How do you turn your mindset about when the mud puddles could pull you down?

Who are the strangers that are community on your path?

(The way of St Cuthbert is a marked path and I have told Rob he is in charge of the map)

It’s a Journey

Today I arrive in Iona, where they had no internet last week.

So to get to Iona I traveled 8hours by plane, 3 hours by train, another 3 hours by train, 1 hour by ferry, 1 hour by bus, and a short ferry. Then a walk uphill to my hotel.

Sometimes it is about the journey.

Insights from today:

1. While a shower is a great way to start the morning, sometimes you should start with coffee then negotiate the shower. European showers are not for the non-persistent. I figured how to turn the shower head on AND how to have the correct temperature but there were more nozzles and dials than normal AND the hot and cold were reversed!
2. DO NOT multi task if choosing shower first and then coffee. (Especially if European shower)
3. ALWAYS use bath mat, this combines the first two mentioned. If you move the bathmatt because you went to plug in the teapot because the shower was so confusing and realized caffeine sooner than later would be more helpful, you need to remember to put the bathmatt back in place so that you do not slip and fall on tile floor that has a declining slope to it. (No bruises or scrapes happened to create this helpful insight but OUCH!)
4. always ask directions, people love to help- especially if you are an easy assist! I overshot the train station in Glasgow because I was looking at everything in the city with SUNLIGHT!

Sometimes you can take the shorter route, I could have flown into Scotland and eliminated a train ride, but that didn’t make sense for the rest of the travels and because I had three hours to wait I was able to see my dear friend who lives in London who hopped on the Tube and met me for coffee (my jet legged self).... it also meant I met a “non practicing atheist” in the train station who told me the history of Oban, the best bus to catch and a bit about melrose abbey too!

While I think I could have driven from Glasgow to Oban- watching the scenery go by on the trainn was a treat with trees and snow and stillness. Not to mention I did not have to remember which side of the road to drive on.....

I am fascinated by Scotland’s nooks and crannies, it’s water and small coastal towns, it looks a lot like Newburyport and Salem, MA, fishing ports.

I of course took three wrong turns this morning and it took three folks to make sure I had the correct ticket (online services are only so helpful) but it’s part of the journey, meeting folks along the way.

On the train there was an 18 month old who was overjoyed at everything that passed by- no distinguishable words but we knew to look because of his alerting sound and we too took joy in his joy.

Letting go allows one to see a little bit more, rely a little less only on yourself and realize the fun and joy you can have with the folks around you.

Home is...

Home is where the heart is.

Home is where your friends are

Home is where the Army sends you

Home is where a hot meal and good friends sit around the table with you

You might know the phrase with a different ending. Regardless it reminds me that we define home in several ways, not just in an address.

As many of you already know I grew up in a military family, we moved routinely every 1-3 years. One of my least favorite questions to be asked was “where is home”- you see both of my grandfathers were also in the army, so while they resided in Florida and in Arizona, those places were not their places of origin though they had become home.

How do we define home?

In the south this is in reference to where our people are from, where they are buried, where they have come from.

For me home has become where you are in the moment and what has formed you. AND home is where there is a seat a the table.

For me, Sewanee is one of those places. College was the first time I lived anywhere for 4 years and during those four years my parents moved 3 times. Sewanee, though, stayed the same (sometimes a strength and sometimes that is it’s own weakness). Sewanee is the place where I chose to listen more deeply, to wander, to be in groups that were different, and ask harder questions. And we always found food together in the dining hall.

Sewanee is also a place I keep coming back to, for weddings, for funerals, for council meetings and while an official capacity brings me back now, it’s the relationships that make it home. Finding time to drink a cup of coffee or tea, go for a run (race pace has been redefined from those college years) and savor the space as it changes and as I do too. Tonight we will share a meal together with the soon to be graduating class of seminarians as they head out from calling Sewanee “home” for three years and go to “work in the vineyard.” Home is about to change for these new graduates.

At St Luke’s in Atlanta they are home to a congregation who worships there, they are also home to a “soup kitchen” where folks come to eat and they are the physical home address to a large population that have no homes. As you may or may not realize, to do a lot of the paperwork you need to have a job you must have a physical address. St Luke’s has become that for their people who are in need and go through their assistance program. While people do not reside at the church, they do not have a shelter, they do have a program where St Luke’s is their mailing address, mailroom, and physical home address. The church opens up their doors so that their folks in need can get their feet on the ground and on their way to finding and creating their own homes. 

As I am traveling, I have been staying in homes along the way. Dear friends have opened their doors and and tables to invite me in and we get to sit around the table sharing a meal and catching up, hearing where the spirit is moving in each person’s life and laughing at the joyful adventures God has us on. Each space has become home for the night for me, each meal feeding both heart and soul.

Where is home for you? Is it a place? Is a meal? 

How are you inviting others in to experience “home” with you and inviting them to your table?

How to not get kicked out of a monastery (or the grace and mercy I received on my first visit)

First, When you hear a bell, arrive where you should be. Do not ignore bell and finish up last email because the WiFi worked. If you choose to ignore the first bell, the second bell will be rung for your benefit and you will arrive to the welcoming (and hungry faces) of the brothers and other residents who were waiting on you to say grace and then eat.

Second, inside the house, shoes are not worn. It was suggested to bring slippers or warm socks. I would also add barre socks or those cool hospital socks with grippies on them would be smart, though the socks that say “If you can read this bring me a glass of wine” might not be the correct socks... perhaps there is a whole untapped market for these socks.. monastic socks would say, “Be Prayerful” or “If you can read these I am at Emery House”

Third, When it begins to snow on a mid April day and you are from Florida, try to contain your excitement and do not run into the other room frantically pointing out the window like the flying monkeys from the wizard of Oz just flew by.... making the first person you run into break their silence. (Note, I did not break my silence first, he did—- there is something wrong about my joy in that point).... first person I saw said (out loud) “Oh my God, SNOW!”

In a monastery you are in silence, it’s beautiful. They also have a 24 hour coffee station with homemade cookies. They are delicious. So while you can quietly listen to God, the demon is in the cookies and coffee! Or the cookies and coffee are all day Eucharist.... lovely, I like the second better (can you tell I have already been partaking in the all day Eucharistic snacks?)

In a monastery you are in community and the only major spoken conversations are in the form of said prayers. It’s delightful. The Psalms are said more slowly than I have said them in a long time and you truly HEAR the words of the psalmist. The hymns are sung without accompaniment and also more sung more slowly and words hang in the air....giving each verse the beauty with which it was written and delightful poetry to savor.

Being In community without spoken words means I know the names of the people here but not who is named which name. We pray for the group by name but being the only female here I have no idea who is Bob (there are 2 apparently) and who is George and who is Dean...etc..... I have decided, like on Cutthroat Kitchen, they are all now named Bob. We also know no one’s story, where they have been or when they are leaving. Yet it’s okay. The gift of silence is we are all here and not that one is more talkative than the other. We celebrated Eucharist together and I looked around- you don’t know who is ordained, who is not, who is liberal or conservative, who is retired and who is working, we all are there praying and singing together, receiving gratefully and equally.

I just finished a book called “A Bigger Table”- it has four goal values for churches: Hospitality, Authenticity, Diversity and Agenda Free relationships. It reminded me of the gift of hospitality of the spaces I have stayed in recently. 

Here the hospitality is in providing a safe space to be fed in heart mind and soul. The Brothers provide meals, cookies and coffee, and prayers. They meet each person where they are and they pray for them before they arrive, while they are here and when they depart. While I know they do other things in the meanwhile, the gift of their peaceful demeanor welcomes each traveler right where they are as they come through the door.

In January of this year I had the blessing of being in worship at Grace Cathedral in Charleston, SC, their hospitality was amazing. As a guest in liturgy, with the other participants in that liturgy, we walked through the service so that everyone was acquainted with the space and the liturgical dance of which we were about to partake. The host greeted each of us with warmth and welcome and answered all of our questions with patience and repeated things as needed. It was a true grace and welcome when they could have said to us, “This is our church, you will do as we say”— such joy and grace and welcome allowed all of us to be who we were called to be in liturgy and fully flourish.

How often do we get distracted by the next item that we forget to be present with the people we are with, to hear them fully, to welcome them where they are and let them bloom and be recognized for who they are? How often are we comfortable with silence in community?

Emery House

Have you ever kept silence?

I am not talking about the “Quiet Game”- you know, the one, the one your parents (or you as a parent) have instigated out of a desire of a quieter space with less bickering, I am talking about, as the psalm says, “Be Still and Know”

Being still and being quiet are HARD in this day and age.

We live in a world where ever statement expects an answer, people ramble on just to work out their own thoughts or just to fill the space. There is always a radio, TV, podcast, pandora station, or youtube video to listen to. 

To find quiet we have to literally unplug and disconnect. Intentionally remove the stimuli and even then often we find ourselves still looking to the next thing to do. being still is not what we are good at, or perhaps not what I am good at doing naturally.

Most of us are still when we are asleep. Deep and restful sleep freshens us.  Deep stillness in the same way also refreshes us, allows us to regain our center and focus.

I arrived this afternoon at the Emery House for my retreat.

At the Emery House we do everything in silence except prayers at 7:30am, 12noon, 6pm and 8pm. All else is in silence (well except when you arrive, they do greet you and welcome you). I sat in my room awaiting prayers this afternoon and listened to how quiet the house was and how still it was. The stillness brought the reminder to me all that I am thankful for, the gifts of stillness, of time, of people as they flitted in and out of my mind.

Emery House was originally a working farm that was donated to the Society of St John the Evangelist for hospitality and retreat. The Emery Family were hard workers and felt strongly about caring for the poor and hospitality to their neighbors, they inherited land and when the final family member died, they gave this house to the brothers to allow others to come and be fed in mind, body and spirit.

How do you keep silence?

How do you help others find and keep silence in their lives? (Perhaps “The Quiet Game” isn’t such a bad idea after all)

A Taste of Boston

On the first Sunday of Sabbatical my true love gave me a 5:30am flight to Boston!

Early but we arrived in time to go straight to a Red Sox game in 37 degree weather. The ballpark frank was DELICIOUS and the FREE hot chocolate just as good! After a day of Traveling we were toast and headed to bed early.

Monday, April 16, was Patriots’ Day and, of course, the boston marathon. Rob and I grabbed breakfast and then hopped on the T. We entered into McGreevey’s to watch the race - the weather was RIDICULOUSly gross. COLD and DOWNPOURING, we were delighted to be inside and quickly made friends with folks at the bar who were cheering on a young man from Nebraska who was doing really well! Sam Adams even brews a special brew for the marathon called: “26.2” It was amazing to watch the finishes and cheer folks on.

Amazing the professionals and all the runners as they accomplished such a race, the joy of those who have run it before and those we saw the next day in Boston hobbling as they walked- Boston was full of joy and passion despite such dismal weather.

We ate oysters at the Oyster House and Cannolis at Mike’s and then took my sodden self home (Rob wins best dressed for weather that day).

Our Final day in Boston was spent in Plymouth, Milton, Brookline, Cambridge, and Salem. We had a car, what can I say?! It is astounding how many of the 102 pilgrims did not last the first year in Plymouth. Also noteworthy was the burial ground (originally they hid their dead so the natives could not see that they were weak) and the memorial to the native chief are not too far apart on top of the hill looking towards the sea. Between the two is a plaque stating the “Day of mourning” that is celebrated on Thanksgiving Day. A hearty reminder that the pilgrims survival also meant natives were killed and died due to colonies.

In Milton, Rob found the house he lived in for a year while his father was on sabbatical, we saw the birthplace of George W Bush (who knew!) and then headed to Cambridge where we saw JFK’s birthplace and the Julia Childs’ home. We ended up at JFK’s library and walked through history- a Great Wall for the peace corps and another glimpse into the civil rights movement from JFK’s perspective.

We ended with dinner in Salem, chasing the witches and sunset. Also noteworthy was a memorial in Salem for the women who were killed for “being witches” and the unfairness to them.....a beautiful grove of trees planted for each of the women named.

A Wedding in Mississippi

So MOST people begin their sabbatical with retreat time.

The first weekend of my sabbatical was filled with officiating and celebrating a wedding.

A wonderful opportunity to SEE a family I had not seen in nearly 10 years hear of their joy and help them celebrate their new chapter in their life.

To get to the wedding, I flew into Memphis, TN and took the time to visit the Loraine Hotel, the place where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assasinated 50 years ago this month. The museum they have created in this space in comprehensive and awe-filling. The story telling was moving and reminds us that the story isn’t over. The entire second museum is about the continuing legacy of MLK and the voices yet to be heard and who are helping to make these stories be heard.

I continued south to Mississippi to rehearse the service and then eat dinner with the wedding party and family at the bride’s grandfather’s home, a big house filled to the brim with family and friends and lots of BBQ.

The next morning we got up and went to Oxford, MS and ate at the Big Bad Breakfast restaurant and then toured the square, I caught up with friends and we dodged raindrops. We were not able to go to the Ajax Diner which employed every member of the bride’s family at one time or another, adopting them in as family.

The wedding was beautiful and joyfilled. A 19th century methodist church was a fun liturgical space for an episcopal wedding complete with Eucharist :). The reception was again at the Bride’s grandfather’s home catered by a restaurant in town whose tradition is to feed the entire staff after closing. All invited to the table to make sure there is at least one good meal in their bellies. It was a kind and wonderful gathering from meal to meal, table to table as we blessed this new couple and refreshed old friendships.