Overflow

While serving as family camp chaplain at Calumet earlier this summer, I learned a children's song with a refrain that goes:

"Fill my cup and let it overflow... Uh-huh.

Fill my cup and let it overflow... Oh yeah.

Fill my cup and let it overflow, let it overflow with lo-ove."

That silly ditty of a song sums up what the last six days in and around Seattle meant for me. From the moment of my arriving to my departure, love - not rain! - came pouring out in all directions, from friends, church folks and the sparkle and shine of the land and water, too.

I spent seven years in northwest Washington from Fall 2004 to Fall 2011.  While living in the Seattle and Bellingham areas, I worked and studied as an intern (Messiah Lutheran, Auburn), was ordained, and served in my first call (Zion, Ferndale).  I also made great friends and fell in love at first sight with the mountains, evergreens, and coffee. It seemed right and good to return there during sabbatical - to remember why and how God called me to this vocation, and to seek renewal while being surrounded by water, wilderness, and people who were/are formative in my development and identity.

And it was So Very Good to be there! On Friday, my friend Kari led a Holden Evening prayer service on Golden Gardens beach in Seattle. It couldn't have been more beautiful. We hoped to gather around a fire-pit on the beach and make s'mores afterward, but since all the pits were taken, we improvised by eating them raw. The treats got rave reviews; some said raw ones are even better than the roasted ones. 

That weekend I traveled north to Ferndale to visit my first church and receive some of the west coast's warmest and best hugs. In typical Zion (country church) fashion, they planned a luncheon for my brief visit.  Of course the meal included salmon and ever-bearing raspberries picked on the Bannerman farm that very morning.  I appreciated Pastor Liza Okan's sermon on the last part of the "bread of life" series in John and the character of Peter... on how we meet God (and vice-versa) as recipients of grace rather than doers of some great feat. 

The last part of my Pacific Northwest experience consisted of a camping trip with Kari and her family to the Olympic Peninsula. We hiked along Hurricane Ridge (alpine forest with stunning views), greeted a herd of elk at the Hoh River (rainforest), and hugged the world's largest Spruce tree at Lake Quinalt. We camped at Kalaloch campground where we took a couple long walks, each at our own meandering pace, along the Pacific Ocean. Pretty darn amazing!!

I selected a camping trip at this park months ago instead of two other fantastic National Parks in WA: North Cascades and Mt. Rainier. It was a tough choice but in light of the recent Wolverine forest fire which has burned 40% of the forest on the eastern side of the state, it definitely was the right decision. Besides the fact that we were safe from fire and far removed from smoke, the Olympic Peninsula is incredibly diverse and "full of wow" as my five-year old friend Esme likes to say. 

If you have any inkling or opportunity to travel to the northwest and experience the beauty of giant moss-covered trees and lush old-growth forest, do it!  The Olympic Peninsula is a place teeming with life.

We happened to travel there during a few rare dry days. Usually it rains in the rainforest - imagine that! But even in these dry sunny days, my cup is filled up in all kinds of ways. I hope  to share the love I experienced in this watery wilderness as I return to and move forward each day in my east coast life and yet bottle it up in reserve for the potential *dry seasons* ahead, when sabbatical is a distant memory.

Selfie with Kari - friend of my heart - atop Hurricane Ridge. In most pics through the years, we are huddled together in a cold scene. We were glad to share in warmth and sunshine on this trip.

Below is the world's largest Spruce tree - an Alaskan Sitka Spruce - which measures 59 feet in circumference and is 191 feet tall. It is estimated to be 1000 years old. Obviously, I had to hug it.

First encounter with the last frontier

"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." - Carl Sagan

For these last 10 wonder-filled days, that somewhere has been Alaska. I have waited a long time to meet the incredible things that flourish here. And now it seems I've barely skimmed the surface as I prepare to leave.  Nonetheless, I am grateful for the introduction and already look forward to my return.

The incredible somethings that I met here came in the form of gorgeous scenery - illuminated by sparkly, crisp, unseasonably sunny weather - and wildlife thriving in its natural habitat. Among the happy animals I spotted - largely with the help of captain Dan of the Kenai Fjords Resurrection Bay Cruise - I gazed in wonder at many bald eagles, a lone delightful sea otter, seals and sea lions sunbathing on rocks, lots of horned puffins, a few mountain goats, humpback whales, and other birds whose names I don't know how to pronounce or spell.

I am especially grateful for the hospitality I received along the journey, from kayak guides who greeted me at the airport and toted me around as if they had nothing better to do, to the innkeeper and her sweet dog Sitka at Beach Roadhouse in Haines (highly recommend!), to Bishop Shelley Wickstrom who opened her home in Anchorage to me and friend Kari in the midst of a busy and emotionally draining week. And finally today I got to pal around with running buddy Lisa and her adorable, smiley two-year old.

On Monday afternoon - a rare rainy day on this trip - Kari and I went the wrong way in our wanderings around Anchorage. We asked a woman at an intersection for directions to the Anchorage Museum. She first told us where it was (many blocks away) then on second thought, invited us to go to her truck to give us a ride. Alaskan hospitality at its finest!

There is much more to Alaska that waits to be known to me and the world - surely that is part of its appeal and allure as "the last frontier." For now I am satisfied to have breathed her fresh air, sampled her salmon, cod, and halibut, paddled in her waters, hiked a few of her trails, marveled at her wildlife, starry skies and falling stars, and avoided close encounters with her larger creatures - bear and moose.

Many thanks to the 49th state and all who dwell there who helped make this traveling woman's dream come true.

View from Ptarmigan Valley Trail, 15 miles north of Anchorage. 

View of Portage Glacier in between Anchorage and Whittier.

With our gracious host, Bishop Shelley Wickstrom

Big mountains, small world

The last five days of kayaking, hiking, schlepping, and camping through the inside passage of Lynn Canal have left me a bit sore and a bit speechless. OMG seems a good place to begin as that is what I found myself saying in one form or another pretty much anytime I opened my eyes or looked up.

The mountains were slow to show themselves as we began our paddle in heavy rain, strong wind, and much fog. The rain and winds softened on the second day but the fog lingered. The views were beautiful and mystical nonetheless. I appreciated the unique experience that the trip was but I also braced myself each night and morning to deal with the cold and dampness that seemed to be with me 24/7. The temperature was in the 50's and 60's during the day but dropped to the 40's at night. Of course there was no indoor shelter and no plumbing in the remote camp sites. We carried our shelter - plus food, garbage, and clothing - with us.

Day three was a game-changer. Until then, this was a unique experience that I was glad to try once but that was also full of discomfort (including sleeping on a bed of rocks and going to the bathroom in awkward ways and places) which made it so I was counting the days until it was over. I wondered why I hadn't considered an indoor sight-seeing tour. And then... the sun came out. Yes!

It was magic how everything changed when we warmed up and received that wonderful solar energy. Now the sea sparkled and the mountains were unveiled in full glory. And I stopped shivering, which made a big difference! It turned the week into an excellent and truly renewing vacation. And I remember uttering the words: "there is nowhere I would rather be. Thanks, God!"

I was also aware that many people, including my family and church (perhaps my mom most of all), were praying for me and Tom this week - for safety and also renewal through the sabbatical experience. I am grateful for these prayers. When locals commented throughout the remainder of the week how unusual the calm seas and full-on sunshine was for this time of year, I mentioned that there is power in prayer.  If any of you reading this were part of that prayer-force, thank you!

The group with whom we traveled was jovial and worked well together. The three young guides were knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and helpful. The other kayakers included two single moms - former fisherwomen on the high Alaskan seas - and their kids (ages 10 and 15), three guys from New York City, plus Tom and me.

I was impressed with the attitude and leadership of our lead-guide, 26 year-old Dennis from western MA. I found out on day two that his uncle is none other than Paul Lindahl of Camp Calumet and that Dennis grew up going to that camp where I spend a week as chaplain each summer and where my church will be retreating for Columbus Day weekend. My buddy Knute was his counselor. How random that of all the kayak trips I could go on and of all the guides that are out there, a Calumet camper from New England would be the one to keep me alive for the last week.

After dinner last night, Dennis asked for the location of my church which is not far from his family home. When he is back in New England next fall, he plans to stop in. This world is too small, but I like it that way.

This Rocky bench on Beluga Island is where we pitched our tent for three nights. The pickings were slim, but we were just glad not to have to pack up our shelter and belongings every day. We were eager kayakers, but reluctant schleppers. The ground may have been rough, but you can't beat the view out our front door! 

We made it! Morning of Day Five. Friends to the end! 

On Day Two, we visited Davidson Glacier. This involved a 4-hour paddle and 4-hour hike to get there and back. Had to bundle up for the chilly winds generated by the cool

Glacier ice. 

Getting to Alaska

We arrived without interruption to our destination(s) - Juneau, then Haines - with bonus blessings along the way. Tom had broken his glasses the night before departure and was concerned about getting them fixed in time for our trip. Our four-hour layover in Juneau was more than ample time to walk to an eyeglasses store which happened to be open and a half-mile from the airport. People at the airport were impressively accommodating to help us get there, and one flight attendant even tried to fix them herself.

We were surprised by the size of our second plane whose job it was to transport us down the inside passage. The young guy carrying our luggage was also the pilot who led us and two other passengers across the tarmac to a five-seater plane, producing more than a little anxiety for Tom who is afraid of flying (and the smaller the plane, the greater the fear). Nonetheless, the views from 10,000 feet were incredible: glacier water is a beautiful turquoise blue unlike what I am used to seeing in the north Atlantic. Through the fog we also caught glimpses of glacier itself.

And for God to really show off in that 30-minute puddle jumper ride, an enormous rainbow accompanied us for the last third of the bumpy flight. We were encircled in that rainbow for several moments. Tom did not see any of this as his head was ducked and eyes closed, as he prayed and held his breath through the turbulence. Poor thing. But the good news is we made it!

Seas (waves) are at 5 feet today for the first day of our kayak trip which means we will do some kayaking mixed with some hiking. Our guide - Dennis from Amherst, MA - expects calmer waters for the rest of the week.  I don't plan to have access for blog updates until we return to shore and to this comfy lodge - Beach Roadhouse - over the weekend.

Until then, happy trails & paddling!

Tom and I with  our pilot Shane.

Into the wild

The next stop on the sabbatical journey is a place I have dreamed of exploring for years: Alaska. Given the vastness of the wilderness and my limited stay (10 days), I will barely scratch a smidgeon of the surface in sight-seeing but I anticipate it will be all sorts of awesome.

The first 6 days I will set off from Haines (across the inside passage of Lynn Canal from Juneau) on a guided kayak tour with eight other kayakers and three guides. We will tent-camp at night. On Sunday, after what I expect will be a much needed warm shower, I fly to Anchorage to visit a couple good friends, one of whom is the Lutheran Bishop of Alaska - Shelley Wickstrom. I'm excited to learn about what God is up to in this wild place - and how the Lutheran church plays a part or not - from her well-traveled perspective.

When I put a feeler out last winter to friends and family, in search of a companion for the kayak trip, my buddy Tom Judge from Chicago was the only one to say: Yes, sign me up! So I did, and here we go.

Tom asked what I hope to accomplish over the coming week. After thinking about it for a second, I decided the following three things tie in pretty well with the rest of my sabbatical objectives:

1) spiritual renewal: I hope to get lost (figuratively, not literally!) in the wonder and grandeur of God's glorious creation through the glacial peaks and rugged landscape of America's most pristine wilderness. By leaving behind my phone, car, and simple luxuries - like electricity, a bed, and running water, I hope to draw near to God and return to the basics of my humanity and mortal self. I too often rely on material things to bring me comfort while it is actually communing with God - preferably in nature - which brings me greatest joy. As St. Augustine famously confesses, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, O God."

2) physical renewal/kick-start: Prior to becoming a pastor, I ran with a vengeance. That habit involved completing a marathon each year during my 20's. The running habit petered out in my 30's (and at this point for good reason due to arthritic knees). Given my sedentary work and chocolate/sweet addiction (not to mention all those church potlucks!), I have gained on average 3 pounds a year for the last 9 years of ministry.  That adds up! Of course I can't reverse all that in a week. But I look forward to a rigorous and challenging physical experience - such as kayaking the fjords of the Inside Passahe - that will push me to be stronger and maybe a little bit leaner.

3) quality friend time. Tom is a pillar of support to me, and has been so since we met at the U of C Divinity School student orientation in the Spring of 2000. He is funny as all get out, never failing to make me laugh - at life and at myself. He stood up for me at my wedding and stood with me through my divorce. We got each other through an intense and often times miserable Koine Greek class in our first year of Div School. In short, I adore him! And since we live 1000 miles apart, I am thrilled to have a week to share quality time with one of my besties.

Pictured here with my iconography teacher Randi and kayaking buddy Tom. The three of us attended the University of Chicago Divinity School over a decade ago and shared a quick lunch after church on Sunday. What a rare and precious gift is an old friend. And a pair of old friends, all the better!

Almost done, thanks be to God

Today is the last part of our 6-day class. All I have left is to whiten the eyes, paint the back and sides of the board, and paint his name. And then Archangel Raphael will be finished! As someone who has never picked up a paintbrush in any meaningful or intentional way, this endeavor was only possible by the help of God and through a manner of painting in which humility, not artistic skill, was the requirement for creating something beautiful.

He is holding a spoon and a box with healing ointments. Archangel Raphael's story of healing and help for a traveler is found in the book of Tobit. He is the patron saint of nurses and travelers.

Here is a glimpse of Immanuel Icons studio in Pittsburgh (and my little work/prayer station) where Raphael was created.

Universal longing

"That evening at sundown they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed by demons. And the whole city was gathered together at the door." - Mark 1:32-33

It was like a scene taken from the pages of the Bible. There were mothers with babies strapped to their backs and cuddled in their arms; there were old people, barely able to walk and some in wheelchairs; there were young children, teens and adults streaming in from every corner. The people spoke to one another with hushed and subdued excitement and in different languages, not recognizable to me. People wore their Sunday best but that mostly equated to simple, modest fabrics, with many of the women wearing long skirts and head coverings.

Such was the gathering our icon class attended today at St. George's Orthodox Monastery in Taylor, PA. A myrrh-bearing, miracle-working icon visited the monastery between 2-4 pm and we were there to venerate it, while at the same time participating in an outdoor worship service on the feast day of the Transfiguration.

Between 250  - 300 people gathered in all, each lining up to have a personal moment of a prayer with the Theotokos (mother of God) and to be anointed by the sweet rose-smelling ointment which has been seeping from Mary's face in this particular icon for a few years. Dozens and perhaps hundreds of people who came into contact with the icon and its myrrh have experienced miraculous healing.  And so we thronged peacefully toward her this afternoon, with constant chanting and prayers led by nuns for healing of all who are afflicted, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I thought of those who thronged toward Jesus wherever he went in Galilee for the very same thing: Healing of body and soul. He laid hands on as many as he could, but eventually he had to move on, just like this icon at its appointed time. For there were more sick people somewhere else waiting to venerate and witness this special happening. We weren't the only ones with the longing to be healed and made whole.

God's healing work is a mystery! I feel no need to limit that healing power to rational understanding. Today I was exposed to a healing tradition that was, until now, foreign to me but just as valid an expression of faith as I have been witness to.

Standing in that long line of the faithful, waiting for over an hour for my turn to approach, I was reminded that the healing for which I long and pray - for myself and my loved ones, for others who hurt, for divided communities and nations - is not unique to me, my family, or my church. It's part of all of us - the mommas and the papas, the newborns and the teens, the young children whose parents had to lift them to reach the icon.

And though I am skeptical of much, of this I am confident: God hears our prayers and receives our longings. And in God's infinite love, those longings of the universe are fulfilled.

Healing come, healing come.

Slower is sometimes (often) better

Moving slowly, with diligence and perseverance, is a virtue. And not one I possess. Icon-painting is well suited for those who enjoy giving attention to detail and keeping their attention on one thing for prolonged periods of time. I, on the other hand, tend to be a multi-tasker with a short attention span, flitting around here and there. Watching a feature-length movie can be a tall order at times.

To say that icon-painting all day everyday for a week is a challenge would be putting it mildly, but it's surprisingly not as hard as I thought. Due to excellent teaching, the companionship of other painters, and keeping the hours of prayer at 9 am, 3 pm, and 9 pm - in which we ask, among other things, for God's help to complete the task we are undertaking, the day unfolds in a natural rhythm and no part of it seems overly taxing. I am also aware of what a privilege and gift this time is... to have a whole week dedicated to prayer and painting beautiful things. What could be better? Maybe having my dog at my side as I go about this work. Only because I miss him. But I suspect iconography may be even less suited for the messy furriness of dogs than it is for short attention spans of humans.

Yesterday another of Randi's students stopped in to share with us the icon he just completed. It was an arresting and gorgeous image of one of my favorite Bible characters: John the Baptist. The last time I preached on him was about his death in which his head was served on a platter, which for obvious reasons made me sad. It was restorative to see him looking at us, intact, with a confident and fierce gaze through that icon, as he is remembered now as a saint in light. This icon was the work of a thoroughly attentive local artist - James Vonminden - who works as a maintenance man in an ecumenical Benedictine community. James worked on the piece for over a year. His diligence shows. His work is beautiful in part because of his attentiveness and slowness.

What should I do now?

I am learning  more from my friend and teacher this week than simply about the practical how-to of painting an icon (though there really is nothing simple about it!).  I am learning how to pray and how simply to be. Iconography, after all, is a way of praying with the hands.  As I am completely new to this art form, I have hung on Randi's every word and direction, even if I have, at times, forgotten to apply the technique she demonstrated only moments ago.

Painting an icon requires much waiting and, therefore, patience. Maybe this is true of all painting - because one coat has to dry before another can be added. And, since I am one of six in the class, we are not always on the same rhythm or timetable.

In one of the moments of down-time where I was waiting for one coat to dry and also for instructions as to what came next, I asked my teacher the simple and obvious question: what should I do now?

And she gave me just as simple and obvious an answer: meditate.

It is obvious because that is the point of it all... To meditate on the goodness and beauty of God through these illumined images of saints and Angels. So why didn't I think of that? I guess it's because even while on sabbatical and while taking a week to slow down and pray, I am programmed to think I must be doing something productive at every moment.

Meditate! What a novel thing to try and do, at rest and at work ... while painting, playing, and perhaps most importantly, at transitional times such as waiting for the next thing to happen but yet not knowing what that next thing might be.

When I wonder what I should be doing - even when this icon class has ended - I hope I remember her answer. And, better yet, that I practice it, not because it makes me more productive, but because it makes me a better - and more present - me.

Embrace the Mistakes

I did something I have never done before - and feel completely unqualified to do - but yet have wanted to try for years. My one week angel icon-painting class began at noon today. For the rest of the week the class will meet for roughly 13 hours/day at the Immanuel Icons Studio in the Highland Park neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Having arrived at 3 am this morning due to flight delay and bad weather, I was grateful for today's late start time.

The most helpful word of instruction that my esteemed teacher, Randi Sider-Rose, said was to celebrate and embrace the mistakes in our paintings even more than the successes because it is from mistakes that we learn the most: about such things as humility, grace, and correction.

I learned aLOT about humility today through my many mistakes! But I also feel free to make them, in order that I can keep learning. Otherwise, if we expected perfection of ourselves every time, how could we ever try something new? How could we learn? 

Speaking of figuring things out, as soon as I learn how to upload pictures onto the blog via my phone (without an Internet connection), I will share first glimpses of my first icon - very much a work in progress, just like me.

Here it is! This is actually taken at the end of Day 2. We have three days to go, so I expect the finished Raphael  angel to look quite different from the guy captured here. But he is well on his way! 

Hungry Feast

I appreciated the opportunity to worship at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Amherst, MA, today where my friend Steve Wilco is the pastor. It was clear how much thought and care went into planning worship and that it is a congregation that loves to sing with people accustomed to learning new material quickly. A classic piano duet - on two beautiful grand pianos - provided the music for prelude, offering, and postlude. Each Sunday during August - for the five "bread of life" Gospel readings - the congregation uses a different kind of bread from around the world for communion. Today was Scottish oatmeal bread - fortuitous for me. Music in the liturgy was also selected from around the world, including a Swahili alleluia and beautiful Chinese benediction. Attendees were invited to write down a hymn request and put it in a basket for a "hymn lotto" to be selected and used as the  sending hymn; it was a surprisingly easy and fun way to draw people in before the service even begins.

The assisting minister - a musician himself and leader of the worship ministry team - invited everyone to a worship forum during coffee hour. I would have gone if I did not have other plans, as I wanted to express my appreciation. Instead, I shared my impression with Steve on the way out and asked him to pass that on.

It was a replenishing experience to stand with hands extended at the table of Jesus, receiving the bread broken for me and wine poured for me! And yet, as with all true experiences of worship on this side of heaven and as was preached eloquently by Steve, it left me hungering for more! More of Jesus in my life, more of God's kingdom upending the world, more peace, more resources to be shared among us so no one hungers again.

Sabbatical Begins

After a year of preparation, I am now officially on sabbatical-leave which involves three months dedicated to spiritual renewal and replenishment.  The first day could not have been any more full of stuff I love.  Granted, it was a Saturday -- and I don't usually work on Saturdays other than to finish sermon preparation; but there was a different feeling about this Saturday knowing it was the beginning of something GREAT.

I went for a jog in the morning, and spent the bulk of the day with my friend Rafi -- enjoying a delicious brunch at Green Bean in Northhampton, MA followed by a trip to South Deerfield where I finally experienced Magic Wings butterfly conservatory.  See pics below!  We took Jack for a hike at one of his favorite spots: Mt. Tom, then played tennis  in the cooler evening hours at pro-level courts nearby.  After picking up home-made ice-cream at Mt. Tom Creamery, we made veggie tacos for dinner and chilled in front of a movie - Trainspotting -- selected because it takes place in one of my sabbatical destinations: Edinburgh.  After so much activity, we both fell asleep before the ending...

Here are a few snapshots I took at the Conservatory. Glorious fluttery things, proving one need not travel all that far to marvel at the work of our ever-Creative Creator.