Laurie Klein, Scribe

immerse in God, emerge refreshed

Upbeat People, Unsung Transitions

by 20 Chiming In

Upbeat: adjective, to maintain good cheer—despite circumstances.

staying upbeat before it all falls in
That nerve-wracking Vacation Moment—luminous beauty before it all falls in

How to stay upbeat when life implodes?

Start by looking back.

Since 1950, upbeat has been used as an adjective, meaning lighthearted. Buoyant. Exuberant.

upbeat dogs romp on beach

First used in 1869, however, the word upbeat was a noun, a synonym for anacrucis.

Originally, anacrucis—or upbeat—signified a musical pickup, or lead-in: the note(s) preceding a song’s downbeat. This definition still applies. Think of the happy in “Happy Birthday ” or the I in my song “I Love You, Lord.”

Anacrucis also refers to the initial, unstressed syllables before a poem’s meter kicks in.

Unstressed? Now that gets my attention.

[Read more…]

Chosen Again, Moonshadow Day

by 38 Chiming In

Moody skies. A cliff. An abandoned stroller . . .

chosen chariot awaiting

Who took the baby?

+++

May I tell you a story?

On August 21st the solar eclipse will, in some locations, turn day into darkness. I wish you could know what the day means for our family.

On this day a year ago, an unwanted child was born to a drug-addicted mother and unknown father.

The parents would not cradle or feed or rock their baby girl.

They’d never be the metaphorical sun and moon watching over her world.

The baby, traumatized by Lithium withdrawal, could not settle and would not eat.

Our daughter, Rachel, agreed to work with her in the Neonatal Care Unit.

Love ignited their first moments together.

Rachel took this baby . . . into her heart.

Irresistibly drawn, she and her husband would rescue her, raise her, and nurture little Kiki into wholeness.

chosen to be cherished

Perhaps Kiki sensed she’d been chosen, because she relaxed. She ate and slept. Her new responsiveness to love lit up the room.

Homecoming

Ongoing drug withdrawal consumed compassion, patience, and stamina.

Even tightly swaddled, sometimes Kiki could not bear to be touched, and I carried her around and around the house on a cushion. As with so many of our solutions, the pillow trick worked but wasn’t foolproof.

Weeks passed. Red-eyed and shaky with fatigue, Rachel and Damon agonized over her anguish. She shrieked and flailed.

“I’ve got you,” Damon would whisper, holding her close. “I’ve got you.”

Is this what it means to be chosen and cherished by God?

To be rescued, again and again—no matter what. To be made part of a family, given a new name.

Sometimes few words are needed. Touch is all.

Kiki’s suffering raged on.

Will the clouds part?

People who follow total eclipses wonder: Is our equipment good enough? Will the clouds part? We’ve come all this way . . . what if the wonder eludes us?

As caregivers, sometimes we miss glimmers of light when our loved one’s pain is vast and their progress, incremental.

We doubt our ability. God seems remote. Hidden.

Who will hold us and say, “I’ve got you.”?

We turn to “the man with starlight in his veins,” as writer Brian Doyle once called Jesus.

Then we offer ragged presence.

Chosen Again, Moonshadow Day

chosen one
“To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Kiki is thriving.

On the solar eclipse we’ll celebrate her first birthday . . . at the courthouse. We’ll witness the finalization of her adoption. She’ll be formally chosen, again, and for always, in a court of law . . .

. . . with all manner of declarations and testimonies, photos and signatures.

Can you imagine the hugging? No words needed. Touch is all.

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Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?

“Moonshadow,” by Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens)

More of Kiki’s story here

 

 

 

Playdate: Deep Breaths, Double Takes, Daydreams

by 20 Chiming In

Playdate? What planet is Klein on now?

“Playdate,” by definition, may be a toddler gig, but experiencing one enlivens and reorients us—at any age.

For instance:

  • Daydreaming: Has it been awhile?
  • Double takes: Remember, they’re quasi-athletic.
  • Jaunts: Why not enjoy risk and exhilaration?

You might feel overwhelmed, over-digitized, overcome by a restless heart (or, restless mate/kids/grandkids) . . .

Troubled by global violence and civil unrest . . .

Weary of weeds and dust, arthritis, estrangement, too many guests . . .

Could it be you’re running low on respite, and short on play?

How about an Armchair Staydate, right here, right now? Preferably one that involves leaves (since I have pictures of them).

Let this amateur gallery jaunt evoke a few deep breaths. Double takes. Daydreams.

Taking if leaf by leaf

Is this one a mirror? Sometimes we mortals lurch around, flattened by life, emotionally spent, spiritually threadbare.

leaf

Lord knows, we’re trying to launch the project, get back in shape, meet the monster deadline.

We may be pushing through envy. Anger. Inhospitable circumstances.

leaf unfurling through stone

One green sprig muscling through roadway re-frames hardship as possibility.

Oh, this dear earth! An ancient arrangement ensures leaves absorb our toxic carbon dioxide; we absorb their oxygen. I forget this. Remembering alters my view—altars my view.

Deep breath.

Where can I share a little life today?

. . .

Notice these flowers growing between a hard place and its shadow.

Playdate: Horticulturally Thumbing a Nose at Rough Terrain

They don’t settle for blah. Or worse, bleak. They don’t forgo blooming until better conditions appear.

Deep breath.

Where will I inject fizz, or a dash of color today? A softening touch?

. . .

Leaf through the Book

We’re each like a tree planted by water, the psalmist tells us, “whose leaves do not wither.”

Sure as Hosta leaves steadily breathe out water vapor (thereby drawing up more moisture through roots and stems), we can exhale, pause, watch for what may transpire.

Hosta, la vista

Deep breath.

In what way will I offer someone (including myself) a cup of cool water today?

. . .

No matter how we feel, we are not stranded, beached and alone beneath starless skies.

Sure as the moon with her silver pulleys hauls out the sea, the tide will change.

Might as well watch for surprise bouquets at our feet.

seaweed on shore

Deep breath.

Where will God surprise me today?

. . .

Sure as our brain’s firing neurons numerically compare to billions and squillions of stars in the Milky Way, light eventually reaches us—wherever we are.

Polka Dot Playdate: Begonias Have All the Best Dirt

Deep breath.

When did I last stargaze?

What new constellation of grace is emerging in those I love, and how do I call out shine?

. . .

“Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore.
There is always something to make you wonder
in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf.”

—Albert Schweitzer

Life is precarious. Let’s take a page from The Leaf Playbook:

  • Book a playdate (or staydate)
  • Cultivate double takes
  • Exha-a-a-a–le . . . and see what transpires
  • Court surprise
  • Wait for the Light

What’s your favorite playdate/staydate? I’d love some fresh ideas . . .

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More daydreaming here: http://bigthink.com/21st-century-spirituality/creativity-and-distraction
More about double-takes here
More about jaunts here
For more ideas, dip into this wonder-full book: Playdates with God, by Laura Boggess

Focus: What Does It Take to Maintain It?

by 12 Chiming In

Focus so easily fractures.

At day’s end, near midnight, I’m reading The Attentive Life when it seems like the chair beneath me … shifts.

I shrug, only to drop the book at the next eerie movement—a sinking, sickish feeling, like taking a dip in the road too fast.

Then … nothing.

My imagination?

Another lurch, followed by shudders. It feels like an alpine chairlift revving away from the platform. Electricity zings in my shinbones, gooses my spine.

What on earth? [Read more…]