Poem – the hand of God.

Posted on May 29, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Opening up the mess with God
is the point
where I think
it would make a difference.

Between us
a little more energy
would help.

A little more energy
between us
would help.

We have all these things available
but then again
we have nothing at hand.

Our fingers are feeble,
are fragile,
are faulty.

We point the way with them.
We beckon, we accuse.

The hand of God is made up
of these same fingers.

And sometimes it feels more
like a slap from a bully
or a stop sign from a crossing guard
than a help.

Aho!

Posted on February 18, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I’ve recently heard the word “aho” used in several different gatherings. In the context it is being used it sounds like it means “I agree” or “awesome”. I looked it up, and it could be one of two things. According to Wikipedia, it is either a Native American word or a Japanese word.

If it is a Native American word (and the tribe is not specified, so it sounds questionable to me) it means something like what I think I’m hearing. It means something like “So be it” or “Amen.”

If it is Japanese, it means “idiot.”

So I’m not using this word.

First off, I’m not going to confuse people. If they know that the word exists in two different languages and means two entirely different things, they don’t know which meaning I’m using. If they don’t know what the word means, then it is going to be even more confusing.

Neither of these languages are my language. Not only are they not my native tongue, they are not languages I’ve learned and am fluent in. So it doesn’t make sense to use this word.

I totally respect the idea that sometimes there are words in other languages that aren’t in my language. Sometimes you have to borrow a word from another language because there isn’t a word in yours. Sometimes ideas are more fully expressed in another language.

But that isn’t the case here. There is a word. It is “Amen.”

Perhaps people frown on the use of this word. Perhaps people are afraid of it because they are refugees from church. I get that. I am.

But I’m giving up the church as we know it. I’m not giving up the idea of God, and of Jesus.

In the same way I’m wary of people who refer to God as Source or any of any other myriad of other terms I’m hearing. I’m not even sure what they are talking about. I’m not even sure they know either.

As for me, I’m going to keep saying “Amen” and “God”, because I think it is best to say what I mean and not be ambiguous about it. Perhaps it is politically correct to be vague and use broader terms, but after a while I’m not even sure if we are all taking about the same thing when we start using different words. So I’m sticking with the known good.

The empty cross

Posted on February 17, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I love this shape. It is the cross, the intersection of heaven and earth, but empty. It is filled with the wearer.

I love that it is a quatrefoil. It reminds me of a four leaf clover. It looks medieval, yet the place I bought it from calls it “Moroccan.” It isn’t just one thing, and that kind of thing makes me really happy.

It reminds me of the bead that launched my love of beads way back when I worked in Washington D.C.

I loved that bead so much that I got a tattoo of it. In fact, it was my first tattoo.

I’ve since added to it, as you can see. But it is the center of the design.

This tattoo reminds me that God is always with me. It got it after the first time I was in the hospital for my bipolar disorder. They take away all of your “stuff” when you are in a mental hospital. That is the one place where you need something solid to hold on to. Me? I chose to have a reminder of God’s love with me. I figured they couldn’t take this from me.

But this symbol – this empty cross, I like even more. It is the same shape as that bead of course, but it means more because it is less. By having the center of it empty, it shows the wearer through it. It reminds me that I carry God with me, and so does everyone else.

I made this version of the empty cross necklace with green, orange, and purple. I’m not sure why these colors keep standing out for me. I like them, sure. They seem a little more vibrant than I normally work with though.

I’m a little limited on these crosses – the batch I have only comes in green, and it is a bright green at that. No hiding it! But in a way I like that too. Green is a color of growth, and this vibrant green is a good reminder to be alive in my faith.

What’s in a name?

Posted on February 11, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

God always has been. There is no beginning and no ending with God. God says “I am the Alpha and the Omega” as a way of illustrating that, but a better illustration is simply God’s name when Moses asked on Mt Sinai who he was talking to, and God said “I am”. The abbreviation for God, YHWH (or YHVH) has within it the letters for these Hebrew words – “is”, “was”, and “shall be”. How awesome is that?

Our human brains can’t really understand this. We can’t understand how something could exist before the Big Bang. We want beginnings. We can’t comprehend eternity. But just because we can’t understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t so.

Then again, “Jesus” isn’t Jesus’ name. That is the English version. The closest way of saying his name as it was pronounced is Yashua. There are several variants, including Yeshua and Yahshua. Why it got changed to Jesus when there is a perfectly acceptable English equivalent of Joshua is beyond me.

When I was very young we had a dog that I got to name. I was three. I don’t remember the dog at all, but I do remember the name. I named him “Joshuma,” and I can only assume that name came to me from God. I can only assume that was a three year old’s interpretation of “Yashua”. Or perhaps I did say “Yashua” to my parents and “Joshuma” is what they understood. It was pronounced JOSH-you-muh.

This is a perfect name for a dog for a child. Dogs are best friends. Dogs are protectors. Dogs teach unconditional love. These are all the same qualities of Yashua, also known as Jesus.

Here’s the funny part. Sometimes when I’m typing quickly on my Kindle, it will autocomplete. Very often when I try to type “Jesus”, my Kindle supplies “He is”.

Make of this what you will. These were my thoughts early this morning.

Frame

Posted on January 21, 2014 by betsybeadhead | 2 Comments

If you want to miss the big picture, put a frame around it.

I’m learning that the more I decide what things are going to be, or how I should deal with them before I get to them, the less that I learn. The more I plan ahead, the less I’m able to experience what is really happening.

Instead of saying to God “This is what I want out of this experience”, it is me saying “God, what do You want me to get out of this”?

I want it all. I don’t want to miss anything.

I want to be open, like a child, to whatever is really there. I want to see with new eyes and hear with new ears.

I want to stop defining and start delighting.

I want to stop deciding what is “bad” or “good” and see things for what they really –are-, right then, and know that God is working through them to make them something else as well.

Nothing is constant. Everything is in the hands of God.

The more I expect to see things or people a certain way, the more I’ll see just that, and the less I’ll see what God has put right in front of me.

Jigsaw puzzle

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I did a jigsaw puzzle for the first time in so long that I’ve almost forgotten. Well, I helped some kindergartners do one a few months ago, but that doesn’t really count. They did most of it. I was just there to direct traffic and stop them from fighting. Something about not being able to share was part of the fight. They all wanted to work on the same parts or some were hoarding pieces.

Another lady had started a puzzle. It had 500 pieces. Most of them were green or pink, it looked like. The image was of a butterfly.

This looked too complicated for me. I think it was too complicated for her too because she left it on the table and moved to something else. She found all the edge pieces and put them together. Perhaps she was leaving it for another person to work on.

I was cruising around the tables to see if there was anything else to work on. There are all sorts of art supplies and things to work on.

There are essays and books and poems to read too.

It is all optional, but I like to take advantage of what is offered. I want to get my money’s worth, and I want to open myself up to new experiences.

I came across this cute bag. It is a recloseable puzzle for travel.

And it is of space. And it is a cartoon. And it only has 100 pieces. I’m there.

Nobody had opened it yet, so I ripped off the top. I’m glad that I don’t have a problem with this. I’ll totally go first at a buffet or a recital. I’m not afraid of claiming something as mine.

I started finding the edge pieces but then I didn’t know how big the finished puzzle was going to be. Would I have enough room? I was sharing the table with a painter. I didn’t want to get in her way. Then I started to see pieces that obviously went together.

My inner squirrel started to take over. What do I do next? Do the outer stuff or the inner stuff?

This is so like my spiritual journey it isn’t funny. Well, actually it is funny. It’s always funny how God works things out and I’m almost always the last to know.

I never have the map. Nobody does. We wander around, like the Jews in the desert, moving from camp to camp, from call to call. We go where we are sent. We don’t know where we are going until we get there.

So instead of focusing on the outside, the limits, I chose to focus on the inside, the images. Make a planet. Then make another planet. With this puzzle, as with life, I found myself heavily relying on words. The names of the planets held me together. I used them as a guide.

At times I felt I was cheating by looking at the picture on the bag.

This is the same person who complains that God doesn’t give me a map.

Here’s a map and I’m balking at using it.

There’s a lot to be understood there.

God doesn’t give me a map because God knows I’d rather figure it out on my own. I’d rather be happily surprised when I see the pattern coming together. I’d rather do it my way.

Also, it doesn’t matter if I work on the inside or the outside, as long as I’m working. It will all come together in the end. God’s got the pattern. It is just to me to work on it, and with it, and trust.

(Written on retreat, 1-18-14, 4 p.m. Finished on 1-20-14)

Poem – eggs, and books, and words.

Posted on January 20, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

We already have an egg.
It is us, becoming.
What if we don’t need to work so hard?
What if we are fine as frog’s hair,
fit as a fiddle,
chicken and egg at the same time?

It is another time for the chosen.

As for me the danger of that is
what I was
because I used to think
that past is just prequel.

I should just leave well enough alone
and leave the future to itself.
It will keep on doing what it wants
anyway.

There is nothing more sad than seeing your own body
broken in pieces.

Our bodies are books
written by God
in the margins, in the gutter, on the spine.
Scribbled notes or glittering manuscripts
hastily written or lovingly preserved
makes no difference to the One
Who wrote us.
There are no withdrawn
no remaindered
no dog eared copies
In God’s library.

We are all beautiful and all needed.

These books are dry patches of a church.

Every day we walk alone.
Each person is a silent building.
Everything that is beautiful is lonely.

Right now you are not awake.
Really, won’t you take my words?
They aren’t even mine any more.

(A predictive text poem, using the letters in the word “water” as a prompt. Written on retreat, 1-17-14, at 8:30 pm.)

Stamp of approval.

Posted on January 11, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

It benefits the Episcopal Church that I’m not going to get its stamp of approval. I’m pretty out there for them. I actually talk about hearing from God. I am very vocal about radical inclusion. I’m pro- everybody rights. I’m so far out there that they didn’t know what to do with me.

Part of the process of seeing if you are called to be a deacon is seeing if you are willing to submit to their rules and their timetables.

They don’t check to see if you are willing to submit to God’s rules and God’s timetable, which to me seems more relevant. They have confused their paperwork and bureaucracy with God’s power. They’ve substituted themselves for God. This is very dangerous.

I was very angry that I was made to wait three years before the process even began. I wasn’t angry that I was put on hold, for my sake. I get that they need to make sure that someone is suitable before they put their stamp on them. You don’t want some wacko embarrassing the church, after all. You also don’t want someone trying to do something that they aren’t suited to do. It is like affixing a garden hose to a fire hydrant. The force of the water will blow that hose to pieces.

The same thing can happen with people who aren’t called.

I am angry at an institution that doesn’t seem to know how to build up the Body and therefore the Kingdom.

If someone comes to you and says they want to help, and you make them wait three years before you even begin to see if they are suitable in your eyes, then you have wasted a resource. You have wasted a lot of time, and you run the risk of discouraging someone.

Jesus tells us in Luke 10:2 that “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” There are a lot of broken, hungry, hurting people in the world, who need love and care. Why would you make them wait, by putting a worker on hold?

There are so many sleeping people in church. There are so many people who show up every Sunday and don’t even do anything. They passively listen and they get a warm feeling of smugness or perhaps of assuaging of guilt that they have gone to church and done their duty, and that is all.

It would be so much better if they all took that hour and a half and skipped church and went to serve food in a homeless shelter. Or manned the local crisis line. Or walked to raise money for AIDs patients. Or visited people in hospice care.

Or did any number of things other than sitting on their butts, listening to someone say how awesome God used to be way back when in Biblical times.

God is awesome now, and is real, now. And Jesus isn’t here anymore to heal us. That is our job now. We are to pick up where Jesus left off. We are to get up and be Jesus in the world.

The purpose of church needs to be to train the workers. Church needs to be more like a mobile command unit for a war, because it is a war we are fighting. We are fighting a war against depression and hunger and poverty and abuse. We are fighting for all that is good and right. We are fighting because that is what we were made for.

That is why God put us here, to be God in this world.

Instead of saying “How could God let this terrible tragedy happen?” we really need to say “What are we, the children of God, going to do about it?”

Silent retreat.

Posted on January 9, 2014 by betsybeadhead | 1 Comment

I love going on silent retreats. I love making a special time to be alone with God.

And then I hate it. I feel like I’ve gone on a long road trip and I’ve forgotten something. I feel like I’m four hours away from my hairdryer or the book I meant to bring.

No matter where you go, there you are.

And that is the problem. When you go on a silent retreat, there you are. You can’t get away from yourself. You can’t talk to other people to distract you from you. You can’t listen to their problems so you don’t think about your own.

You are stuck.

And that is where the magic happens. You have to learn to live with yourself, and love yourself. You have to learn that this crazy mixed up bag of humanity that is you is loved, by God, completely and totally, head over heels, no doubt about it, loved.

You have to relax into it, this love. It is pretty overwhelming. To know that you, yes you, are beloved. To know that God wants to talk with you and listen to you, directly, no intermediaries, no message takers. There is nothing between you and God.

Everything is stripped away, and all that is left is all that is needed.

Going on retreat is like going to a deserted island, but everything is taken care of. There’s a bed, and food, and things to read, and arts and crafts to work on, and a nice place to stroll.

There’s a whole lot of nothing, and that is everything.

We spend our days just jam packed with noise. We have so much noise all the time we can’t hear ourselves think.

So we certainly can’t hear God.

Sure, you can go on retreat in your house. You don’t have to go anywhere. You can’t get away from God. God is stuck on you closer than a Band-Aid.

But sometimes you need to make a point of getting away. Sometimes you have to leave home to get it. Home has too many distractions. Home is too easy. Sure, you can turn off the television and the computer and you can set aside this time, from here to there, that you will do nothing but listen to God.

Sometimes that works.

For when it doesn’t, you have to go on retreat, with other people, where you all do it together. All together you get on that boat and you head out into the sea that is God, and there is no life raft, or oars, or sail. You are adrift on that sea, with no way of knowing where you’ll end up.

Sounds scary, right?

It is. And it is beautiful, and wonderful, and amazing. And God’s got you the whole time.

What if everything is your crystal ball?

Posted on January 2, 2014 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Before you search for wisdom in any fortune-telling device – Ouija board, runes, tarot cards, or a crystal ball, you need to put yourself in a receptive space. You may have a ritual that you do. Perhaps you lay out a special tablecloth or piece of embroidery. Then perhaps you add a candle or special stones that have significance to you. Maybe you will light some incense. There are often a couple of deep breaths involved, and perhaps a specific prayer. Then you are in a space inside your head when you are willing to listen to what the universe is trying to tell you.

From “The Isaiah Effect” by Gregg Braden, I’ve learned that prayer isn’t the words. Prayer is the feeling you get from the words. Some people need a lot of set-up and props to get to that feeling. In the Episcopal Church there is a prayer that I like that helps remind me that it is time to focus on God. It is called the Collect for Purity, and it is said very early on in the worship service. Here it is –

“Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.” (From “The Book of Common Prayer” – page 355)

These words, combined with being in a sacred space and seeing the vestments and banners, help me to focus and center my soul on what is about to happen. It helps to put me in a place where I am open God.

Well, at least it used to, until I walked away from church, or, rather, I realized that we collectively were doing church wrong and the priest removed me from my position of authority in that parish. She felt threatened, and rightly so. The more she thinks about it, the more she’ll realize that she’s out of a job. But I digress. I’ve talked about this a lot already.

Even though I don’t go to church, I find I still need to be in that place in my head. I can’t just go from secular to sacred instantly. There needs to be a transition point. There needs to be something like an airlock, or a mudroom, or a vestibule. Something that transitions you from Here to There.

I think part of that is to constantly be in a state of prayer, to constantly be searching for God. I think part of it is seeing that there is no difference between secular and sacred – that everything and everyone and every moment is sacred. It is us who have gone away from God – not the other way around.

I often pray for guidance before reading the Bible. Sometimes I’ll have a specific issue that was concerning me. Should I keep my job? What direction should I go in? How do I deal with this person who is hateful to me? I would simply ask that God speak to me through those words. Perhaps I was echoing Samuel when he said “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:10) I would open the Bible and find a section. Sometimes it would be a section I was already working in. Sometimes it would be a new section. Right now I’m in three sections – Nehemiah, Isaiah, and Luke. Tomorrow it might be a Psalm or Leviticus. It doesn’t seem to matter what the section is. It matters that I’m open to what God is trying to tell me.

I’ve started to understand that God is constantly trying to tell us things. God is constantly seeking us. God constantly wants to show us how much we are loved and how important we are. So I’ve started to “Pray without ceasing” as Saint Francis says. I’ve started to try to be in that place all the time. Before work. Before reading any book. Before driving my car. Before creating jewelry. Before writing.

One new thing I’ve been doing is to pray while taking my shower. When I wash my face I’ll pray this way – while touching my eyes I’ll say “May I see You,” then I move to my ears – “may I hear You,” and then I’ll touch my mouth “and constantly speak Your praise.”

When I find I’ve fallen out of that place where I’m open and receptive, I pray again. I want to constantly be in a place where I’m seeking God, and open to what God wants me to learn and do and be.

Often I fall out of that place. I have reminders everywhere. I have prayer bracelets that remind me of specific intentions. I have tattoos to remind me of the many answered prayers that I’ve been blessed with. I have reminders in my locker at work. Instead of getting angry that I’ve fallen, I’m trying to be thankful. I’m trying to see it as a further chance to return to God.

I think prayer is just like exercise – the more you do it, the better you get. The goal with more prayer isn’t to run a triathlon, however. It is to better walk with God. The closer we can walk, the better we can do what God wants us to do.