Laurie Klein, Scribe

immerse in God, emerge refreshed

Hinge Points: Relative Movement

by 17 Chiming In

Hinge point: It’s my blog’s 2 1/2 year mark. I’m trying something new. Let me know what you think?

Introducing . . . ONE-MINUTE WONDERS:

  • 1 snapshot
  • 100-some words
  • 1 minute of your time

Hinge: A flexible point of connection that allows relative movement.

Hinges squeal. Our old rattle-scrap screen door heaves and judders.

His sleeve cinched between door and jamb, the kid roars: “Let. Me. Go-o-o-o!”

He’s livid. And bigger than me. He’ll punch through the mesh any second. Then kill me. And then it’ll be me, the girl memorialized in the family album viewed with sighs, and shaken heads. “Always the stubborn one.”

Still, I’m leaning backward now, death-gripping cloth, white-knuckling the knob. Sweaty, panting, we glare at each other.

He’s my brother. We share a genetic axis. We are self-contained yet revolve around each other.

Who will pivot?

“You’re such a—” My scathing comeback erupts into hiccups. He snickers.

Despite anger’s corrosion, its grinding wear-and-tear . . .

Hinge, to pivot, or not to pivot?

. . . laughing, I open the door.

Sooner or later, everything hinges on grace.

Mirth diffuses defiance. How has unexpected humor released you?

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You might also enjoy: Amazing Grace: Cyber Refresh

And for a genius-in-motion, world-class hinge: watch the Burke Brise Soleil, Milwaukee Art Museum (1:00)

Read about rear-pivot hydraulic cylinders and rod-eye hinges here.

 

Table Talk Springboard for Holiday Feast

by 4 Chiming In

Table Talk refers to informal conversations over a meal (or a card game, as a friend reminded me yesterday.) In this week of cornucopias, restaurant groaning boards, and home-cooked feasts, here’s a litany you could use for Grace as you gather, one voice (or several) reading the bullet points, the rest chiming in on the bold font (should you feel so inKleined).

(With thanks to woodworkers and fly fisher-folk everywhere, theologian Leonard Sweet, and author Norman Maclean who also said “All good things—trout as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”)

 

ALL READ: “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood, and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some rocks are the timeless raindrops, under the rocks are words and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters…”                           —Norman Maclean

LEADER: Eventually, all things do merge into One, and God’s Table runs through it. The first table was conceived by Grace for those in the Garden, extending invisibly across this earth from the timeless, hovering presence, long before there were clocks, and long after their voices shall cease.

ALL: “All good things—[time] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

  • We remember this day the Periodic Table of the Elements and give thanks for earth’s bounty.
  • We remember the multiplication tables, and the multiplied loaves and fishes.
  • We remember every table of contents in every book that has helped us find our way.

ALL: “All good things—[provision] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

ALL: “All good things—[wisdom] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

“All good things—[hopefulness] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

“All good things—[those actions we understand and those that perplex us] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

“All good things—[reconciliation] as well as eternal salvation—come by grace.”

+++

LEADER:

ALL: Because eventually, all things merge into One, and a table runs through it. From the first meal in the Garden … through this moment we share … until well beyond what we mean by forever, we are haunted by Love …

Amen

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You might also enjoy … Amazing Grace: Cyber-refresh
Waiting Grace, Hearts on Ice
Gratitude: Develop, Break Free, Generate Life

 

 

Waiting Grace, Hearts on Ice

by 50 Chiming In

Spokane glitters, a city between storms. A City on Ice — as I am, waiting alone for the nurse’s update. Just down the hall, contrast dye seeps through my husband’s veins.

Shrugging off layers — jacket, scarf, vest — I pace; then feeling chilled, curl into the molded plastic chair, knees up, hugging myself.

Shrugging and hugging.

I’m trying, dying to sense God’s enveloping presence.

But waiting is hard

Ancient Celts created “encircling prayers” known as loricas (lo – RYE’ – kahs). They engraved them on Irish shields and breastplates before soldiers went into battle.

Considering Dreamer’s Angiogram-in-progress, I wish I’d taken my Sharpie to his chest, made my wishes permanently known.

Christ be with me, Christ within me . . . This 8th-century lorica is attributed to St. Patrick. A sinking feeling within suggests that today I don’t quite believe it.

My beloved’s been gone 20 minutes. Nearly 44 years ago—roughly 26,426,400 minutes—Dreamer and I exchanged rings, two restless, love-struck idealists.

Dear God, let there be more years ahead.

Don’t we all wish this for those we love? Have we ever tallied the minutes of grace that have shielded and guided us?

Christ behind us, Christ before us . . . Changing the pronoun from “me” to “us” helps. A little. But returning jitters propel me upright. We wait — as well as walk — by faith, not by feelings, I tell myself, and we are never abandoned, no matter what.

Christ beside us, Christ to win us,
Christ to comfort and restore us.

I picture the ancient words pulsing within and around me, encompassing Dreamer, the nurses and cardiologist.

waiting, encircled

Christ beneath us, Christ above us . . .

Outside, light transforms high-rise windows to mirrors. Sunshine’s been scarce. Oh, for the snug comfort of my mom’s embrace.

“Coffee?” the kindly prep nurse asks. “How about some toast?”

I smile, shake my head, as if stillness might somehow appease Fate. Unlucky genes. Lifestyle choices.

Christ in quiet . . .

waiting grace

Silence cushions me the way a box lined in red-purple velvet cradles a ring. I feel held.

There’s a knock at the door; test results in hand, Dr. P enters.

“He’s resting now, slowly coming around.”

“Already?” I ask, sharp glance at the clock.

“I didn’t do any stents today.”

I start to rise, the grin shooting up from my insoles, through my chest. Even the roots of my hair feel springy.

“Unfortunately,” he adds gently (Christ in danger . . .), “stents won’t help your husband. He has multiple blockages.”

Somehow, I keep breathing. Someone, somewhere, must be praying, lifting us before God even as I sink back into the cold, hard chair. Christ in hearts of all that love us . . .

Dreamer needs five bypasses.

Questions crowd my throat like first-graders jostling for Teacher’s attention.

Dr. P is waiting calmly, kindly, waiting for me to find my words. “He’s healthy otherwise, and still young,” the doctor concludes. “He’ll come through fine.”

Christ in voice of friend and stranger.

I wrote this post a few days ago. Today, having met the surgeon, we’re still on ice, waiting now for open-heart surgery: February 28th, 7:15 a.m.

And we’re shrugging off fear whenever we can, hugging each other often.

Friends, we’re all facing battles within ourselves, or on behalf of those we love. Could we pray Saint Patrick’s Breastplate lorica together, right now, in solidarity? I’ve paired the words with simple hand movements. Click the link below and let’s lift our prayers together . . .

https://youtu.be/ZvCNHhquxBc

“The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”  Zephaniah 3:17

Oh, and about Dreamer? I’ll keep you “posted.”

(See entire Breastplate prayer of St. Patrick here.)

Follow our journey here:

Site Link: www.caringbridge.org/visit/openheart2
Site Name: openheart2

Never Left to Our Own Devices

by 25 Chiming In

DevicesSo many devices, so little time

Ringtones and beeps and pings—oh my! Too many electronic signals scramble the nerves.

We weary of relentless emails and tweets, texts and updates.

We scratch our heads over new programs and apps for our varied devices.

We research a new appliance, bring it home, then battle “feature-creep” when we all we really want to do is:

  • record that show
  • wash our clothes
  • make a call

Lord of Innovations, thank you for giving us brains and ingenuity.

Thank you for technology’s upside. (Remind us there is an upside.)

Thank you for mentors and podcasts and online tutorials. For classes and colleagues.

We believe in learning.

We know that steep learning curves invite us into Your grace, which heartens and strengthens us.

We believe in applying ourselves. We even believe in mastery—at least as a concept.

But today, we wish life were simpler

Jesus, was it ever dizzying to stay abreast of all those midrash additions local rabbis made to Torah?

When you withdrew to the hills, was it ever due to compassion fatigue?

On a tired day, would you have enjoyed using a GPS while traveling, town to town?

We need to recharge, and not just our devices! So we come to you now, the ultimate power source. You give us free will, and when we ask for help, you intervene. You never leave us to our own devices.

Help us live at the pace we can still hear your voice above distractions and daily interactions.

Help us prioritize today’s tasks, and, if need be, patiently absorb and practice new skills, then create a sane plan for further study.

Above all, help us remember we have the mind of Christ. And grace: sustainable, ever-renewable grace.

Thank you for all the creative ways we can reach you, right now. And that always, always, you are reaching for us.

NOTE: Friends, I will be scaling back on posts over the summer. Look for one or two per month in your Inbox.

Oh, and if you have a moment? Let me know if you’d enjoy an occasional post like this one. Thanks!

Laurie Klein, Scribe