Author: revdbeth

I am a retired Episcopal priest after serving over thirty years in Diocese of Texas and a Benedictine Oblate of Our Lady of Grace Monastery in Beech Grove, Indiana. I'm also an eighth generation Texan. My daughter, The Homesick Texan, has moved back home to Texas. My son and his wife live in Bend, Oregon, with my two grandsons who call me Grandma Texas.

Watch what Jesus does

Up early before the worst heat hits to walk to breakfast at Cafe Jonah. 

Plotting the way on our iPhones, my friend and I realized the cafe was a five minute drive but only a fifteen minute walk.  Why do I automatically drive without thinking about walking as an option?  Jesus was quite a walker, after all. 
Twists and turns and three thousand steps and we were there. 

My prayer during this vacation has been to do as Jesus does. I’m not pleased with how often I can get irritated by others. I’ve been in a lot of crowds and lines–at the game, waiting for and riding on Marta, at the movie, and the like. My quotidian–self without a collar (and sometimes with) can be so cranky. 
My prayer has been to be patient and kind and delight in the people God puts in my path. Sometime I say yes. Sometimes I have to say forgive me. 
Walking back to the hotel, a man pushing a baby buggy with his life possessions responded to my greeting with, “Beautiful smile.”  Oh yes. Thanks, God. 
Too many steps to walk to the mountains, we’re on our way by car for more beauty. Everyday. 

Occupying unoccupied time

At the Marta Station waiting for the Gold Line after the Atlanta Dream game. A happy final for Tulsa. It’s 10.30 PM after a large day. 

First twenty four hours of vacation has been all about doing the local. 
Three potters. Two local coffee roasters.   Three local eateries. One kiddie cup of ice cream. A water station that included free sparkling water as an option. 
Two movies. One museum. Lots of laughter. 
Yesterday and this morning in Athens. 
This afternoon and evening in Atlanta. 
Tomorrow to the mountains. 
So very many courteous folks abound. Offering seats on trains and other public spaces. Opening doors. Providing kind directions.   
But first I have to catch two more trains and walk to the hotel.   

The Lord Almighty grant a peaceful night and a perfect end. 

Vacation: To be unoccupied

For the next seven days I am a vacationer.   I am unoccupied.  I am on an extended period of recreation. 

Starting with uneventful travel this morning to the airport and now seated in an exit row all to myself. 
Work to do list complete. 
Pastoral phone calls and texts done. 
Katie+ and the fabulous St. Mary’s folks tending God’s people.
Plants watered. Dishes done. 
Inspired by Katie’s+ sermon yesterday, I am off to be a disciple in unknown and unexpected places. I do have a change of clothes and money in my wallet, but I’m ready to see where God, my tour guide, takes me. 

O God, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: Preserve those who travel; surround them with your loving care; protect them from every danger; and bring them in safety to their journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

 

Grandma’s House


 I call with my whole heart; Early in the morning I cry out to you. 

From the Morning Psalm, read from my mother’s front porch with my morning coffee. 

I’m always struck with how God works out timing. I come to visit my mom almost every year around the Fourth of July, and this year’s planned travel dates got rearranged by a rescheduled dental appointment. 


But as God would have it, I am here to help my mother with some family business that I’d have missed had I come when I’d wanted to be here. It’s nothing my mom couldn’t do on her own, but it’s good for me to be here to support her. 

Today we close on the sale of my Grandmother’s home in Sedalia, Texas. That’s outside Westminster, near Anna and Van Alstyne. We’re selling five acres of land and the house, but will retain a big portion of farm land. 

It’s bittersweet. Grandma Blanche died thirty years ago. Good renters lived there for several years, but they’ve moved, and it’s time for the burden of maintaining the house to be removed from my mom’s shoulders. 

Grandma Blanche taught me much about prayer and the Bible and serving God. Every summer of my childhood included a visit to her farm. In fact, the first time I served in a church was at Vacation Bible School at Westminister Baptist Church. She gave me a book about the missionary, Lottie Moon; it was reading that book over and over that would lead me to hearing my call to ordained ministry. 

Those visits to Grandma Blanches’s are filled with so many memories–all joyful. A dining room table laden with food mostly grown by her, a bounty prepared just for the two of us. Sitting in front of the TV watching whatever I wanted, shelling black eyed peas.  Riding around in her 1940 Ford, holes in the floorboard that gave a great view of the chalk rock road flying beneath us.   Receiving one of her big bosomy hugs that smelled of her garden. Her head thrown back as she laughed with exuberance. Most of all I remember how much she loved me and delighted in having me around. 

Grandma’s white frame house represented that love for me. It’s not the love, of course.  That’s a treasure in my heart that lives everywhere and always. I’m sad to finally close that door in my life, but the door of those memories is wide open. 

It was Grandma’s love that taught me so much about God’s love for me. 
A bountiful table. 
An open Bible. 
Quiet prayer in the morning. 
Delighted laughter. 
Love no matter what.