Not only was it Mother’s Day; it was First Communion in our Episcopal Church.  I was reared Methodist, where “Confirmation” was empasized at around the age of 12 if I remember correctly.  I confess to having a conundrum:  how can children accept the Blessed Sacraments if they have not declared Jesus Christ as their Savior?  In the Baptist church I know they refer to it as an “altar call.”  Anyone, no matter how old or how young, may come down at the end of the service to proclaim Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior.  He was crucified for us, died, and was buried.  The third day He rose from the dead, according to the Scriptures, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.  And why do people differentiate Catholics from Christians?  As I have always understood it ANYone who has accepted Jesus Christ as Lord is considered Christian.  I do not know of any “Protestants” or “Catholics” or “Orthodox” Christians who do not believe this to be true.  The Nicene Creed also states Christ was “born of the Virgin Mary.”  It is interesting to me how some Protestant churches view Mariology as either idolatry or as some sort of heretical practice.  The Ever Blessed Virgin Mother Mary was chosen by God to bear His Son, who would become the Savior of the world.  Because I was confirmed at 8 1/2 I had to get special permission from the Methodist Church to study about the tenets of the Christian faith early.  One thing I have come to appreciate about the Roman Catholic Church is what they refer to as “the Holy Mysteries.”  I for one do not presume humankind has all the answers.  My favorite Bible verse is from 2 Corinthians 5:7 which says, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”  Several denominations do not receive Communion in the way Episcopalians do.  Instead of sitting in the pews accepting grape juice from tiny shot glasses, we come to the altar, kneeling before God, to accept the Body and Blood of Christ.  Now that I have risked offending the Protestants, here’s where I may lose some Catholic readers; I pray both sides forgive me.  I just do not like seeing little girls dressed up like mini brides for First Communion.  I believe in order for someone to be “wedded” to the church they must become either a nun or a priest.  Since our only child’s Holy Baptism at three months old, she has always come down to the altar to receive a blessing.  At first it was a given, as I held my little baby in my arms.  But as she became older she learned to cross her arms over her chest, meaning she would like to have a blessing, but was not ready to receive the Holy Eucharist.  My father loved St. Paul, and his favorite scripture came from Hebrews 11:1 which declares, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”  My mother’s favorite passage was from Psalm 27 which proclaims, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”  I find myself wondering what my little girl’s favorite scripture will one day be.  In the meantime, I have done my best to impress upon her the significance of partaking in the Lord’s Supper; to sup and dine with the community of saints and in fellowship with all Christians who believe.  I imagine — and hope — that as she grows so will her faith.  My mother took this picture of me on the left when I was confirmed on Father’s Day in 1979.  Forty years later — on Mother’s Day — my daughter would partake in her first Holy Communion wearing my old dress.  I have no words to describe my joy that we were both able to wear the same dress when we made our commitments to Christ.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt how very proud my parents would be.  The greatest gift my father left me was a legacy of true faith.  My mother showed me strength, poise, and gentleness in the face of adversity.  Whenever my child smiles, God has blessed me to be able to catch glimpses of each of them in her.  I have never known whether beloved family who believe can see us from heaven.  I pray if they could, one of those special moments would be of their only grandchild’s First Communion.

I am a perfectionist.  As such, I cannot stand to be behind or have something out of place.  The longer I live, the more I realize it is exceedingly difficult to always have everything the way one would want it.  For instance, I started this blog writing once a day. That was fine when I had a small child.  Since then I have had several gaps in my timeline.  All I can say is that life overwhelmed me and I could not make my own deadline.  I still grieve the loss of my parents every single day.  My father passed when I was 28 years old, and my folks were married for 30 years.  They were together for much longer, but my father served two terms (eight years) in Korea.  I started this blog almost a year to the day that my mother passed.  I chose Thanksgiving day to go live with my blog to show gratitude.  My father stressed to always be grateful.  In my overwhelming sadness over becoming an orphan, I strived to seek what I was grateful for.  I was married after almost 36 years of being single and blessed with a child genetically all ours (after two rounds of in-vitro) at the age of 41.  I realize that everyone goes through struggles.  And it does not seem fair that some struggle more than others.  Right now I wish I were 30 pounds thinner.  I wish my house was immaculate.  I wish I were able to make meals from scratch every night.  I wish I exercised faithfully for an hour each day.  I wish my beloved blog did not have time gaps.  These are all incredibly painful things to confess.  Why do I even write this blog?  I wanted to inspire others but I also know it was to try and help myself.  The English writer and activist Walter Savage Landor once said, “We are no longer happy so long as we wish to be happier.”  Perhaps the greatest life lesson my father taught me was to always strive to be happy.  Be happy when you do well; be happy when things did not go well.  Be happy!  If you are sad — search for the positive.  If you are lonely, seek to help others.  If you are in a very bad financial situation, he taught me to remember it could always be worse.  It has been my fervent hope that anyone who reads this will be blessed, comforted, or inspired in some way.  I hope that by admitting my own failures and shortcomings it may serve to help someone else.  We all struggle; but we can all also remember to stretch ourselves to reach out to aid others — and to be happy!

I’ve been thinking a lot about magic recently.  It started with this insanely cool card trick the magician pictured here performed for my little girl.  I do not often associate the word “magic” with perhaps its original intent.  The etymology of words has always interested me, and I was surprised to learn the Magi (the Three Kings, or Wise Men who followed the Star of Bethlehem to pay homage to the Messiah) were regarded as magicians.  The singular “magnus” was borrowed from the Old French in the late 14th century, meaning magician.  It makes sense that they were said to have practiced astronomy and astrology, although those studies are not considered to be part of Christianity today.  Saint Matthew is the only of the four canonical gospels to mention them.  Today is Epiphany, which commemorates the visit of the Magi to the infant Christ in most Western Christian churches.  Here is where I confess I dislike the definition of magic as a noun, which says it is the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.  As a Christian, in no way do I believe the Magi influenced the events which led to the conception and birth of Jesus Christ.  I feel much closer to the definition of magic as an adjective, which says it is something wonderful and exciting.  In life there are always believers, skeptics, and non-believers.  I do not believe in aliens and I am a skeptic of “magic” because I know it involves sleight of hand, distraction, illusion, etc.  That still does not mean I do not enjoy it.  The trick this guy did for our little one was incredible!  But I DO still believe in magic … that is to say the power of excitement and wonder.  I like that there are things we do not understand or cannot explain.  Hence why I truly believe in miracles.  I chose to put this column under faith for a reason.  I have found people put their faith in SOMEthing whether they realize it or not … be it religion or even their certainty that religion does not exist.  My husband likes to believe in Big Foot.  I believe he enjoys myths and legends.  Everyone thought Atlantis was a myth; now they think it may have been discovered.  Noah’s Ark is believed to have been found.  Some of the same holy sites have been designated as sacred to Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike.  There are many things we have not seen in our time:  the Annunciation of Mary, Christ’s resurrection from the dead, etc.  That is where, at some point, faith must come in.  I really love that the Church refers to things which cannot be tangibly explained as “The Holy Mysteries.”  It’s OK not to have all the answers.  Personally, I do not want to stop seeking the wonder and magic in life.  The great Hungarian-born American illusionist Harry Houdini himself is quoted as having said, “I am a great admirer of mystery and magic.  Look at this life — all mystery and magic.”

If you are reading this and you’re feeling down around the holidays, you are not alone.  Although it is a joyful time of year, I know it can be a difficult one as well.  Some people are alone; some just feel alone.  Some people seem like they have the whole world on the outside but they’re really empty on the inside.  Some people are struggling with money or health or addiction.  One of the greatest lessons my father taught me was to be thankful.  If we did not have enough, he was quick to point out those who had even less.  He lived each day with a grateful heart and instilled the same in me.  I am so very proud to see his legacy continue in my little girl.  She can find the good in any situation:  rain, cancelled plans, lack of money, or other trying circumstances.  She seeks the positive.  The American essayist Henry David Thoreau said, “A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.”  For me that means not dwelling on the past, or the “fairness” of life.  It means trying to let go of hurts and a bunch of “things” we don’t really need.  Everyone is at different stages in their lives.  It will have highs and lows.  The holidays seem to exacerbate this.  My advice is to love yourself, know that you are enough, and seek God.  For me, faith has carried me though.  So just in case you happen to be looking in on all the shiny, happy people this holiday season, remember that to someone else YOU are the shiny, happy person … and be thankful.

One of the many things I love about the Episcopal Church is that every Sunday we pray for our leaders and for those who have birthdays in the upcoming week.  It is not a magical incantation; rather it asks the Lord to watch over His children, and to guide them and bless them wherever they may be.  I think it is quite lovely.  The birthday blessing at church is something I enjoy, not only for myself.  It is fun to discover who is about to have a birthday (without the aid of Facebook) and to personally wish them a happy one after the service.  My birthday blessing is one week and our little girl’s is the next.  I really look forward to hers and marvel how she develops with each passing year.  It is my prayer that she will grow deeper in her convictions.  My parents were instrumental in the development of my faith, and it was my father’s grandmother who was pivotal in the strong foundation of his.  Through the generations I pray my family continues the tradition and heritage of worship, witnessing, and wanting to follow the will of Christ.  The Dutch Catholic priest and professor Henri Nouwen said, “To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer.  And so, friends and readers, I offer mine to you, whenever they may be:  birthday blessings.

As a child my happiest memories were of Sundays.  It was the one day my father did not work and I loved seeing him in his suits at church.  I also loved hearing my mother sing and can remember going down for the children’s sermon before I was old enough to serve as an acolyte.  We always went to the cafeteria afterwards.  Sundays served as the framework of my life; they were never forced and always happy.  I loved the church’s stained glass, the hymns, and being with my family.  Mama and Daddy always held hands and I remember thinking what a striking couple they made:  my mother with her beautiful red hair and light brown eyes and my father with his thick black hair and striking dark blue eyes.  I often studied the contrast in their clasped hands.  My father’s were huge and red while my mother’s were tiny and white.  Now that I am a mother, I want the same security and structure for my child.  My husband and I always enjoy holding hands just as my folks did.  I have seen our little one taking note of that and giving a happy little smile.  Recently our church started a children’s sermon.  I have no idea whether or not Episcopalians have traditionally done that or if it is something new; I was reared Methodist.  And yes I slid down “our” pew to shamelessly snap this photo of our little one answering a question concerning the Anglican “Mothering Sunday.”  Our Marian child replied that the Virgin Mary was the Mother of the Church.  I was proud she was listening and responding with enthusiasm.  My great love of the Church is the reason I wrote and published my first book on Christian Symbols at age of eleven.  I confess I do hope that the same love of Christian liturgy, music, and Scripture will seep into her soul at a very early age the way it did mine.  That does mean to suggest in any way an intolerance toward others; rather I pray it should serve to strengthen her own compassion and beliefs.  In the New International Version of the Bible Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”  Those are powerful words, particularly for having come from Christ himself.  As adults it is all too easy to lose whatever childlike faith we may have had.  For me, “childlike” does not suggest ignorance; rather it implies an inherent wisdom and trust that defies logical convention.  I hope I shall be made better for striving to see my faith and the world through a child’s eyes.

OK, I have some pretty opinionated thoughts about decorating for the holidays.  They are as follows:  First:  pumpkins are NOT to be placed out until the month of October — no matter HOW much anyone may wish for it to be autumn.  Second:  Halloween decorations should not be placed out before the middle of October.  Like it or not that’s plenty of time to scare the crap out of your neighbors.  Third:  pumpkins (note:  not jack-o’-lanterns) may stay until the first day of December.  Christmas decorations may ONLY be placed out once Advent has begun.  If you are a practicing Christian, you should know this — it begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas Day.  Christmas decorations are to REMAIN THROUGH EPIPHANY!  That means January 6 — not the first day of the New Year you heathens!  It took the Magi that long to see the new born King.  If you really want to get technical — the baby Jesus should not make His appearance in nativity scenes until Christmas Day; the day on which He was born.  It makes me personally CRAZY to see Christmas decorations up before Thanksgiving and then stripped bare right after the New Year.  No wonder so many people become depressed!  If I were someone like Martha Stewart, I swear I would seriously try to implement this as an accepted standard.  The American businesswoman and television personality (Martha Stewart) is credited with having said:

“The ultimate goal is to be an interesting, useful, wholesome person.  If you’re successful on top of that, then you’re way ahead of everybody.”

I hope to be all of those things.  However, I would settle for everyone adhering to pumpkin time.

l love Saint Francis of Assisi.  He is all over our house, both inside and out.  As many may know, he is the Patron Saint of the Environment.  So the easy way to spot him in gardens or churches is to look for the birds on his shoulder or a wolf at his side.  Francis had much love for animals, with a special fondness for the birds.  He liked to refer to animals as his brothers and sisters.  Legend has it that wild animals had no fear of Francis and even came to him seeking refuge from harm.  Poor St. Francis endures a lot around our house.  Our bad cats have gnawed on his birds and rubbed their cheeks on his outstretched hands, perhaps taking his welcome too literally.  I have two wooden carvings of him that I bought on different trips to Santa Fe years ago.  His hands have fallen off on both from the kitties’ fervent cheek scratching.  I have tried wood glue, Superglue, Gorilla glue, and every other kind of glue one can think of — all to no avail.  So his hands rest ineffectually near his feet until I can somehow find a way to get them back on for good.  In this picture he is sporting a duster like a French chapeau which the cleaning lady left behind.  Some people mistake those who have images of St. Francis around as a form of idolatry.  His presence is not meant to worship; rather it is to emulate.  Seeing him inspires me to try and live as he lived.  He gave animals far more credit than anyone else, particularly for his time.  I try not to have leather or eat animal products because of the ruthless cruelty involved in their killing.  I have been ridiculed for it at times but I know I am doing what is right in my heart.  One of my favorite quotes from St. Francis of Assisi is this:  “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.”  I am continually striving to let my walking do my talking.

Today was Pentecost and the day which, in the Episcopal and Anglican church at least, one is encouraged to wear red.  It represents the descent of the Holy Spirit and the tongues of fire which God bestowed upon man in every spoken language of the world.  The English author and U.S. resident Os Guinness said:

“The story of Christian reformation, revival, and renaissance underscores that the darkest hour is often just before the dawn, so we should always be people of hope and prayer, not gloom and defeatism.  God the Holy Spirit can turn the situation around in five minutes.”

What an empowering statement:  to turn ourselves toward hope and prayer and not give in to gloom and defeatism.  My father was an avid believer in this concept, and he instilled it deeply in me.  He was reared by his Choctaw grandmother whom, I was told, had an incredibly deep faith.  Her faith was so powerful I believe it has carried its way to me and, I fervently pray, it will continue on into my daughter as well.  Faith is something one cannot see; it simply must be accepted.  Some may call this foolish.  I believe it is a priceless legacy far more precious than gold.  It is the concept of eternal salvation and a belief in something bigger than ourselves.  The Church speaks of “Holy Mysteries.”  Was Jonah really swallowed by a whale?  No way, people say.  It’s just a cute story told to children in Sunday school.  And yet a man by the name of James Bartley is said to have been swallowed whole by a sperm whale.  He was found days later in the stomach of the whale, which was dead from constipation.  This took place in the late nineteenth-century … not in “Biblical times.”  The story of Noah’s Ark and the Great Flood is one of the most famous in the Bible, and yet people have dismissed it as something of a fairy tale or an allegory.  Several years ago an acclaimed underwater archeologist found scientific proof that the Biblical flood was indeed based upon actual events.  I believe.  I believe in the tongues of fire set forth by the Holy Spirit on this day.  Is it hard for me?  My rational mind can certainly reject it.  In the end that is the embodiment of faith.  It is in seeing the unseen.

There are so many things that come to mind when I think of wings:  birds, angels, “lightening bugs” and even the sky in general.  My little red headed mother loved cardinals and they say when you see them it is a sign that your loved ones who have crossed over are still near.  I have always associated my mother with cardinals anyway so when I hear their lovely call or catch a flash of red I immediately think of her.  We have dragonflies in our pond and for some reason I have always associated them with my father.  I took this picture of one who alighted upon Frasier Crane and then paused for a few moments, allowing me to admire him.  Our lawn man, who is from a different culture, noticed it and I was shocked when he somewhat reluctantly said that many people believe dragonflies are a sign of departed loved ones who are coming to visit.  Who is to say whether or not that is true?  Some say our loved ones become angels who watch over us.  Regardless, the Bible has referenced angels appearing from the beginning in the Book of Genesis to the end in the Book of Revelation.  The French Enlightenment writer and philosopher Voltaire once said:

“It is not known precisely where angels dwell whether in the air, the void, or the planets.  It has not been God’s pleasure that we should be informed of their abode.”

Any tangible reminder or remembered emotion of my parents is so precious it feels as if I have been kissed by angels’ wings.  I certainly believe God is gracious and grants us signs.  I often wonder how many I have missed.  A couple of my mother’s scarves and pieces of her jewelry have simply turned up.  I would like to think it is her way of showing she is still around; I know I certainly still need and wish for her to be; my father as well.  I found an old penny the other day out of the blue.  Daddy used to love old pennies and he kept rolls of them.  We do not even have change anymore and yet pennies still will turn up in our house.  I believe in pennies from heaven.  And I believe in the kiss of angels’ wings.