Look Up!

I have walked our 2 dogs, Molly & Ivy, past this large oak tree on the corner of our block dozens of times since we have moved here just over a month ago. It just seemed an ordinary oak tree with a large, unremarkable trunk.  But this morning when I was walking the dogs, they paused for an unusually long time at the base of that oak, sniffing all around as they do.  While standing there this time my eyes traveled up the trunk of the oak to an amazing sight!  The branches of the oak were covered in small ferns and other lush green plant growth.  All of it was clearly not part of the oak tree, but rather was evidence of a living, thriving plant community that had taken up residence on that tree.  There seemed to be an entire ecosystem in the branches of that oak tree.  But I had never noticed it before because I had never looked up!  I had never lifted my gaze from the ground to take in what was around me on a higher level.

How often do we go through our days with our gaze focused on the ground!?  For the past two months that has been where my gaze has been directed.  It has been locked on the ground in front of me as I have been totally task-oriented and focused.  For the past two months I have been consumed with the tasks of closing down our life in Miami and restarting our life in Savannah.  It was not an easy move. 

While our move was complicated by the onset of health issues and unexpected knee surgery for my spouse, I suspect that no move in our modern, hi-tech society is easy.  There are just so many tasks involved in relocating a life: from closing down accounts (and in some cases returning equipment), notifying all sorts of people and businesses of address changes, boxing up your life (and in the process sorting through all your possessions to decide what needs to be moved, what can be sold, what should be given away, and what needs to be trashed) scheduling the move (including assistance with loading the truck), scheduling the start-up of utilities and services in the new location, actually moving all your possessions and then the process of unloading the truck and unpacking the boxes. 

Of course, this is just a microcosm of most of our lives in general. For me I can point to any number of rationalizations for what has been transpiring in my personal and work life for the last number of years that have kept me focused on accomplishing the task in front of me and when it was done moving right on to the next task presenting itself.  This is often praised as good concentration; being focused; responsible; strong work-ethic.  But in the process we miss so much.

With my gaze focused on the immediate task, on the ground in front of me, I miss the hidden ecosystem thriving above my head.  I miss the faces of the people I pass on the street.  I miss the beautiful blue sky above, and the cotton ball clouds gently floating along.  I miss the opportunities to pet the dogs, to play with grandchildren, to gaze with love in my wife’s eyes.  I miss the possibility of engaging in relaxed conversation with dear friends and sharing memories and stories with extended family.  I miss the chance to relish and treasure the places which make the place I live special and then wonder when I leave why I never visited that place or did that thing.

There is so much more to life than attending to tasks and responsibilities.  While many of those things are necessary and need attention, if that is all we pay attention to, we will miss so much of the beauty, wonder, and special moments of life which truly lift it and make it unique and worthwhile.  One of the gifts of retirement is unfettered time.  I want to make sure it does not become frittered time and one way to do that is to be sure to LOOK UP more.  It is also the gift of Sabbath time, which God offers us once each seven days and encourages us to find even more opportunities to embrace.

Taking time to LOOK UP is one action which might lead to more Sabbath moments.

A New Beginning

Five years!  I cannot believe it!  It has been FIVE YEARS since I last posted in this space.  Sabbath Tango went dormant for five years, and oh, so much has happened!  There has definitely been a lot of Tango (more figuratively than literally) during that time and there has been, sadly, very little Sabbath (at least in the sense of true rest, time with God, time to soak in creation and enjoy the life God bestowed upon me.)  So much has happened and, while my inclination is to try to bring you up to speed all at once, I realize that would not be in the spirit of this blog, so let me just say that I am beginning anew.

I am renewing Sabbath Tango, and I believe that the original intent of this space will still be honored by my new postings.  Originally I created this blog to document and reflect upon my Sabbatical in 2008.  The majority of that time was spent in Argentina, learning the Spanish language and the culture of Buenos Aries.  Thus the name: Sabbath, a time of rest, reflection and renewal & Tango, the national dance of Argentina.  But more than that: the title expressed a belief that all of life is composed of a rhythm between pause and action – just like the Tango, which has deliberate movement, highlighted by flurries of activity and punctuated by pauses in all of it.

As I already hinted, my life has changed dramatically recently.  I am not on a new Sabbatical.  Rather, I have retired from my position as local church pastor.  After serving 5 different congregations in five different communities for the past 40 years, the last one for 24 of those years, it was time for me to take an extended “sabbatical” from local church work.  I have done just that and in the posts to come I will share reflections on that experience of saying good-by to a local church and to local church ministry.  I will also continue to post reflections on my new life and on what unfolds as the Spirit guides me into new activity.

I invite you to follow along and pray my reflections may prompt reflections of your own.

A Gentle Morning at The Cove

The air was near-still, just the vaguest hint of a breeze wafted the pungent aroma of the sea and marsh, rich with salt and decaying vegetation to my nose. The marsh grasses are so vibrantly green the salt water obviously does not seem to harm them but rather enhance their beauty. Obviously they are not really grasses, but some sort of grass-like plant growing at the edges of the coves and bays on Cape Cod. They pop visually, even when the daylight is muted, as it was that night at sunset in Rock Harbor. The low-hanging, heavy clouds which had blown in from the west hid the sun so we could never really tell when the sun set.

The next morning while I sat on the porch at The Cove Motel overlooking the cove at Orleans the sky was again overcast. The clouds hung just barely above the level of fog and again shrouded the arrival of the sun. Even with the clouds muting the sun-light the colors surrounding me were vibrant. The world was awash in various shades of green with accents of lavender, cherry, yellow, rust, white and brown. The air pulsated with bird life - song birds, swans, gulls, terns, ducks, geese, and crows - a veritable symphony of sound washed over me and awoke my eardrums.

Such a muted, gradual awakening of the world from slumber under a blanket of mist or low-lying clouds seems the most comforting and perfect manner for morning to unfold. The sunlight gradually intrudes upon the world, the temperature so very gradually begins to climb, and life gently stirs and stretches, yawning into activity. This is so much more civilized than when the world is startled awake by the brilliance and glare of a full, non-shielded sun.

These types of mornings occur often near water, the night mists and fogs arising to allow this slow embrace of the day to evoke life gentle, with loving nurture. It is a most hospitable way to care for life - inviting the world to awaken by providing a muted, gentle, open and welcoming space for that to take place. I much prefer it, and it seems from the joy and celebration of the morning the wildlife agreed, to the approach that demands a response and a conforming to the will and expectations of the sun in the harsh judgement of a naked sunrise. When the land and water is overshadowed by clouds they create an arena of peace where the plants and animals and birds can slowly stretch their limbs and begin to explore their capabilities and the world around them without the harsh judging glare and withering gaze that sternly demands results.

Would that we could provide such welcoming arenas for one another as human beings.

A Sacred Time of Transition

A low, gray, overcast sky has greeted us on the final day of Orientation at Westminster College in Salt Lake City, Utah. Since Paul and I landed 4 days ago the weather has been hot with bright blue, cloudless skies every day. Somehow this weather today feels appropriate for a day of saying goodbye to my son as all the other parents will be doing as well. I do wonder what they will be doing about the "Regional Brunches" which are to be held outside on the lawn in front of the library?

Yesterday was a day of moving in, settling in his dorm room, meeting his roommate, checking out the college job fair to sign-up for possible work-study jobs, gathering information about the activities and life on the Westminster campus, hearing presentations from various administrative staff, and meeting and greeting various faculty. It was a day clearly designed to help students and parents transition to college life and to begin the process of separation for the parents and integration into the Westminster community for the students.

A beautiful and very inspirational event was the Convocation held late in the afternoon in the Field House. Families and friends were seated in the bleachers, with seats arranged on the main floor for the students and faculty. The sound of bagpipes announced the opening processional as the Utah Pipers Band led in the faculty, wearing their colorful academic regalia, who formed two lines to create a welcoming corridor for the new students to pass through upon entering. It had much of the pomp and circumstance of a graduation and was another clear indication of the benefits of attending a smaller college, where this sort of ritual and ceremony is still an important part of the life of the college community. Listening to the various speeches it became clear to me again of the strength of this college. Though small and relatively unknown, Westminster has a clear vision and educational philosophy which is strongly grounded in a collaborative learning model that approaches the students not just as receptacles of knowledge, but talented, intelligent, capable participants in creating a learning environment. Westminster is clearly about forming scholars and shaping thinkers for leadership and participation in the world. I remembered why I treasured my time and education at Westminster so much, and became further convinced that this was an excellent choice for Paul to make for his college education. I know deep in my heart he is going to thrive in this environment.

While I spoke in an earlier post about taking children off to college as another type of sabbatical experience, it is not typical sabbath time at all. It is a very busy time: helping both of my children settle into their new homes was extremely time consuming. It is also a very emotional time, perhaps more so for me this year because both Paul and Rebekah are living outside the state of Florida for the first time since they were born. Even so, it is a time filled with reflection. It is a different time than normal daily life. It is a time for marking passages in their lives, in my life, in our family life. It is a truly sacred time.

The pictures above include Paul settling into his dormitory room, participating in the convocation, and a sample of the view he will enjoy for the next four years, the Wasatch Mountains which are omnipresent as they loom over the Salt Lake Valley in the east.