Garden in the East

My latest on Mrs Metaphor, for those of you who are wondering what I’m working on these days. 🙂

On Moving and Standing Still

This morning I am pleased to be sitting in a quiet, sunny living room in Middle Tennessee. The vacation house is intimately familiar as I lived in this log home for five years when my children were very young. We turned it into a vacation home a few years ago, when we moved back to Chicago. I cannot remember it ever being this quiet. In those years, they would wake me up in the mornings, early. We were transplants from Chicago, homeschoolers, maybe more than a little bit isolated. We did not intend it that way.

When we bought this house in middle Tennessee we thought we were meant to form an artist community here. We thought that “if we built it they would come” but though we gave it our best shot, it never really worked out the way we’d hoped.

From our five years in this house, however, we did learn a great deal, we loved some wild moments, we bonded together as a family. I believe that in some ways the time we spent here was the glue that made us so close. We were pressed in toward one another, arms wrapped securely, hands clasped together. It really was beautiful as I look back on it now.

Back then, though, I might not have seen it in just that way. My children were 1, 3, 5 and 8 when we moved here. My husband, for the most part, still worked in Chicago so his commute was epic, to say the least. I was alone much of the time. Trips into “town” whether it was Franklin or Nashville, meant I had to pile all of us into a car and drive at least 30 minutes. Going somewhere would eat up most of my day. We put a whole lotta miles on our car in those years.

When the chance came to move back to Chicago a number of years later, we had formed friendships, deep friendships in fact. It was a hard choice to move. My church home was here, my godmother and the priests who had introduced me to Orthodoxy were here. I was still not chrismated. I was still very much in the throes of conversion. Still, we took the chance because it was the right choice, my husband and I knew it immediately.

Moving is hard, but I’ve gotten quite good at it, having done it so many times through the last 48 years of my life. I’ve done it so much I begin to feel itchy when I see moving boxes, even when they are not mine. I see things piled in my closets at home and in the back of my mind I’m always thinking about clearing out “just in case.”

Moving is hard but standing still is hard too.

Putting down roots and staying put takes some effort after all this moving. Being connected and familiar can be terrifying. Being a part of something bigger, someplace bigger, with more people and better access to grocery stores after years of isolation can be like explorers wandering out from the jungle finally, exhilarating but overwhelming and yes, necessary at the proper time.

I’m not moving from Chicago, at least I do not intend to at this writing. I’m not changing my church home or my commitment to the long and dusty road of Orthodoxy. Thanks be to God. I am, however, moving this blog to join the wider circle of like-minded and yet eclectic folks at  Ancient Faith Blogs, and that’s pretty exciting.

So, this is just to let you know that in the near(ish) future, we’ll be moving. In the background, we’ll be packing the boxes with all the stuff you see here and then unpacking over at AFB. What’s great is that I won’t even have to call and ask you to help me load boxes on the truck or anything. We got professionals for all that. It’s like I’m a grown-up or something. Imagine that!

Once we move you ought to be able to reach me pretty easily at NearlyOrthodox.com so, that’s great, right? Let’s hope it’s all seamless, keep those professional movers, erm, web designers, in prayer over the coming weeks, my friends. I have a lot of stuff in those closets. Data can be messy.

Thanks for your continued reading and commenting and good vibes-

ADC

In praise of Coffee Hour

Last night I had the great opportunity to visit an Orthodox church in the suburbs, Saints Peter and Paul Greek Orthodox Church in Glenview. I was there to hear one of my favorite living theologians speak, the awesome Met. Kallistos Ware. If you’ve never had the chance to hear him speak, do it. I confess that when I saw him I just wanted to run up to him and hug him. Don’t worry, I didn’t do it. Probably it’s because I came with a pal who is more sensible than myself. Thanks, Anna.

🙂

After Vespers and the talk by Met. Kallistos we all shuffled downstairs for what was a pretty fabulous spread. It was generous and delicious, especially in light of the current Apostle’s fast we are rockin these days.

Obviously, I was focused on the food. I love food. I love it a whole lot.

In a quiet moment as I sat with my plate of lovely goodies, my friend Anna mentioned that it felt like weekly coffee hour on a bigger scale to which I said, “I love Coffee Hour.” And I do, because for one thing, as we’ve already established, I love food. I love it a whole lot.

But that isn’t the only reason I love Coffee Hour. For me, a convert who knew nobody at all in a new parish at the start of my Orthodox path, toting along smallish crazy kids, it was an opportunity. It was a terrifying opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless.

It’s not possible to really meet and get to know people just at Liturgy. There is always something happening and most of us converts are just trying to keep up. Some of us are also trying to parent kids who have zero interest in keeping up with Liturgy. They just want to go home or go outside or eat cookies. Coffee Hour affords us a chance to connect and also eat cookies.

So here’s the thing. Cookies are great but connecting is hard and weird and scary. Coming into Orthodoxy is difficult enough without having to figure in the whole “meet new people” part but meeting people and having conversations and participating in the life of the body of Christ is vital.

I mean that. It is vital.

Without that bit, we’re all just going through the motions. We have to do the hard work of relationships or we simply will not last against the pull of all the other stuff we could be doing when Liturgy is happening.

I suffer from some social anxiety. You can believe me when I say that meeting people felt like torture as I visited churches while on the road to becoming Orthodox. I was sure that if only I could have a sponsor assigned to me I could get further faster. I wished I could convert online or by mail. But, that’s not how it happens. I had to meet people. I had to reach my hand out in hello.

Coffee hour is how I got there.

It began with one visit where finally, against my nature, I sat at a table in the middle of the room that already had a couple of occupants who all seemed to know one another. If you’ve read, “Nearly Orthodox” you might recall that I still am doing self-therapy getting over a certain High School lunch table rejection fiasco. Needless to say, it took some courage to ask to sit down there.

What was necessary for me at that moment was to have people willing to say “yes” when I asked for a seat. Thankfully, they did say yes and they did engage me beyond that. There were other moments of “yes” that were important too and this is where I tell you, oh my people, what I want you to do, because it’s important.

If you exploring Orthodoxy and are visiting a parish:
Go to coffee hour. Make time. Find a table and sit there even if it’s awkward because it is awkward. Even the most confirmed extrovert will see how awkward it can be.

Do it anyway.

If you are a parishioner:
Invite someone to connect after Liturgy. Offer the invitation to a newcomer even if the priest does the inviting from the front as ours does at Christ the Savior. Offer it even if you think someone else offered already.

And if they come, say hello and offer a seat or a yes to their inquiring. Remember that it’s often intimidating to ask for a seat at a table. Open up the circle of conversation, the one you’re most inclined to close off to strangers because you haven’t seen your friends this week yet.

Remember, we were all strangers once. And as William Butler Yeats wrote, “There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t yet met.”

Make it so.

Lessons in publishing…

Nearly Orthodox has been published a year this summer…this is on my mind today 🙂

Mrs. Metaphor

I’ll start with a caveat- I’m not saying that I have this figured out. I’m just saying that the struggle is real.

When my book was published I spent far too many clicks of the refresh button checking out the sales ranking. I felt like the rats in those experiments we read about in High School, the ones who had their pleasure centers stimulated every time they pressed a certain button. The rats would forgo food and water in order to press that button hour after hour, day after day. Sometimes they would die from it. I pressed the button. Sometimes the reward was there, sometimes it was a punch in the gut. That’s hard to take on an empty emotional stomach, I’ll tell you.

Now that Nearly Orthodox has been on the shelves for almost a year I don’t refresh as often but I do still refresh, hoping for…

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Once more on Mother’s Day

Mrs. Metaphor

I am thankful, finally, as I approach Mother’s Day this year. Generally I’m known for being a little, let us say, cranky, about the holiday that Hallmark made. I have historically set expectations high or set too low or have ruminated too long on the past or the future of this Mother’s Day thing.

This year I’m approaching the struggle from another direction, trying to stay rooted in the present and in gratitude. I think it’s possible I might be maturing but don’t hold me to that.

I’ve been spending some time on a little social media platform called Prose lately. It’s kind of a sweet way to get writing prompts when I need ’em and to see what other people are coming up with out there. I’d say it’s like Twitter for writers. You should check it out. I’m MrsMetaphor over there (and everywhere, really.)

In honor of Mother’s…

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For those who have fallen- Lenten Regrets

“Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again;
for forgiveness has risen from the grave.”
-St John Chrysostom

It is always here, in the dark of Good Friday just before Pascha, that I find all the regret I have stored up over the years. It’s a pressing lie, heavy and persistent. It sounds right to me in the dark. It sounds reasonable and clear, repeating over and over,
“I should have…”
-given more
-prayed more
-attended more
-listened more
-fasted more

I’m always falling short. This is the reality of it.

And yet as I sit here struggling to put together some thoughts and make some weird sense of it all, I find I am at a loss and maybe that’s the right thing. I type and backspace and type again only to delete the whole mess later. Perhaps it’s right that there are no good words here in the dark. Perhaps there is only the loss, the sense of the deep dark pressing in until at last we let it go in lighting those candles at midnight on Pascha.

I’m willing to be there and do that, putting aside regret as St John Chrysostom might advise so that I can enter in once again to the darkened church, to the spreading of the candle light from one faithful to another, to the heat that builds into the joyous moment when we’ll finally say, “Christ is Risen! Indeed He is Risen!”

That’s my favorite part of the night, I confess. It’s my favorite thing to watch my priest break into a near run as he shouts this phrase in English, in Russian, in Greek. We respond then with all of our breath. It’s been a long Lenten road. We’ve done what we can and then some. We’ve waited and we’ve fasted and we’ve prayed and we’ve attended and here we are then, out of the darkness and shouting for joy in the light.

It’s overwhelming on all sides, in the waiting, in the fasting, in the prayer, in attending and in the shouting and the light. Thanks be to God, we’re more than the sum of our parts here. Thanks be to God, He is risen. Indeed He is risen.

Charity.

If you’re online, into social media and Orthodox you might already have heard about the sudden loss of Fr Matthew Baker from Norwich, CT. I did not know Fr Matthew but a number of my online acquaintances did know and love him. I am struck by the terrible loss his passing brings in the lives of his friends and his beautiful family. I cannot even imagine the space he leaves and how his wife and six children (who are still young) will cope.

It brings to my mind an aspect of Lent that I often overlook, that of charity. I’m willing to whine about the fasting and grouse about the prayer but I do them anyway. Charity escapes me far too often. It’s convenient to be forgetful about this particular bit of the Lenten practice. What’s striking about this aspect though is how it focuses outward rather than inward. I’m down with the sacrificial and cleansing parts of Lent, the parts that have to do with getting “me” all squared away, but this charity part is another thing altogether.

The root of the word charity is interesting. It comes from the Latin, “carus” meaning “dear” and not surprisingly serves as the root for another word, “care.” While all the aspects of Lent are for the benefit of soul and spirit, this aspect, this “care” means that I am required to look beyond my own boundaries. If you, like me, are looking for a way to show some carus this Lenten season, here’s one way you can do that.

Watching the outpouring of donations and support for Fr Matthew’s family is incredible. It gives me a lot of hope for the crazy bunch of humans on this planet. What a tremendous show of care. I hope that you’ll take a moment to consider adding your care as well. If not, at least sit up and take notice of those around you who are in need of care. There’s no shortage of need in this world, that’s for sure.

Beginning Clean (book excerpt)

Beginning Clean
(on fasting and failing)

Let the mouth also fast from disgraceful speeches and railings. For what does it profit if we abstain from fish and fowl and yet bite and devour our brothers and sisters? The evil speaker eats the flesh of his brother and bites the body of his neighbor.
—St. John Chrysostom

The Lenten journey is not about what you cannot eat. It’s about what you pray from your heart while fasting and God daily feeding your spirit. —Subdeacon Michael Chuck Hann

On the top shelf in our walk-in pantry, behind the melba toast and the cans of tuna my mother used to eat while dieting, behind the cereals we did not like, behind the tin of rum balls that had lived in that pantry longer than we had lived in that house, there were a few bottles of soda pop called Tahitian Treat. We knew they were there, though they were hidden. They were only for my mother’s consumption. None of us kids would even consider breaking the sacred trust of the forbidden pantry shelf by violating the bottles of bright red fizzy sugar water. My mother always seemed to be dieting. When things were particularly stressful in the household, we’d find remnants of junk food, wrappers and crumbs, perhaps an empty bottle of Tahitian Treat, near the floor register where she would sit late at night and study for her college classes. A few days after that, the pantry would once again be filled with melba toast and canned tuna fish—remorse for the sins of the past, recommitment to the true path of a smaller dress size.

In the Orthodox tradition, we fast. A lot. No matter how many calendars I printed and pasted on my refrigerator door, remembering the weekly fast was a struggle. I would forget halfway through each Wednesday and Friday and find myself eating meat or dairy without thinking. I’d clunk myself on the forehead in “I should have had a V8” style and finish out the day limping along across the fasting finish line with all kinds of remorse. When I began the journey into Orthodoxy, I was already moving again toward becoming a vegetarian, with designs on moving on to being a full-on casual vegan. I thought this part of the practice would be the easiest to wrap my hands around.

After spending most of my life having people compliment me on my trim waistline, I noticed I was beginning to expand my physical horizons, and I thought changing my diet might help. It wasn’t just the weight gain that moved me toward the vegetarian lifestyle, but aging in general, the fatigue, the need for more coffee in the mornings and sometimes in the middle of the day, and the fact that I had already tried so many other diets to stem my growing pants size.

I tried the low-carb and the high-vegetable and the juicing and the whole grains and the no grains and the grapefruit and the cottage cheese and pineapple, finding myself understanding my mother more and more with each switch. While I blamed perimenopause, natural aging, or low thyroid function and chronic fatigue syndrome for the weight gain, it was more likely that my expanding form was a result of the eating I did in secret, the hidden treats, the sneak snacking, medicating the emotional ills by feeding them sugar and trans fats.

By the time we moved on to the Presbyterian church, I’d lost the secret nature of the eating and moved on to utter defiance, choosing the chocolate-covered donut in the church potluck lineup because “so what” and “who cares” and “mind your own business.” My body frame supported this gain, so while it was easy to hide, I knew it was a lie when I looked in the mirror after getting out of the shower. I told myself I was fat and sighed with disgust when I looked in the mirror, and that did more damage to me than the junk food ever could.

from Nearly Orthodox: On being a modern woman in an ancient tradition

Available now!

Download the eBook or pick up a paperback 🙂

Lenten fasts for the cooking impaired

Lent is coming. I dread it every single year. I don’t dread the practice of fasting or the season Lent. In fact, I really dig it. The trouble comes in the fact that a)my family is picky and unaccustomed to the vegan thing and b)I’m a terrible cook. I need handlers. This is what I need. I need to be Oprah during long fasting periods. I could be awesome if I had Oprah’s staff, chefs and personal trainers and life coaches.

Bring.It.On.

Sadly, I do not have those people on staff. I have cans of black beans and a strange inability to cook rice, even with a rice cooker. I’m not kidding. It’s a train wreck every single time.

I try new recipes and I buy cookbooks and get encouragement online and for that I’m thankful. There are a few sites around here that truly rock. I think you can find them in my blog roll on the right hand side there. Oh She Cooks, is especially good. But it’s the fear that gets me. It gets me every time I open a cookbook or stand in the produce aisle of the grocery store. It gets me when I’m boiling water, when I’m chopping carrots, when I’m serving what I imagine is something kind of awful to the cadre of hungry folks at the table. Probably I need to learn to be less self-conscious and perhaps grow a thicker skin where critique is concerned.

“I am not my cooking.”

During Lent I have a practice I’ve done for years, even long before I became Orthodox. I would choose a new focus and try to start doing something new and healthy along with my usual “giving up” of something. (That’s a Catholic thing…read about it here.) This “new” thing was often just a group of words, things I would tell myself to help bolster a healthy habit. One year I reminded myself every day that when I was angry I had a third choice outside of blowing up or eating the anger. So each time I felt angry I would try to consider what that third option would be. One day, it was pulling into a gas station and getting out of the car to count to 10 when my kids were arguing in the backseat. I felt the anger rise up in me and I thought about eating it and I thought about blowing up and then I pulled over and got out of the car. I stood there counting to 10 and I thought, “why am I angry?” Immediately I knew that it was because no one was listening to me and I was in charge. So I prayed a little and I swore a little and then I got back in the car. I was greeted with silence. The kids all stared at me and then one got the courage to ask why I did that. I told them the truth. I felt angry and I didn’t know what to do. I told them I gave myself a time out and I told them what I learned. Then we went and got ice cream.

This year my affirmation is this, “I am not my cooking.” I may have to write it down and tape it up it on my refrigerator door. I’m going to follow through with the fast. I’m going to cook a lot of really bad meals and yet I’m thinking I’ll get a few right as well. In any case, I am not my cooking and this Lenten fast is not so much about eating anyway. There are deep things at work here, strong new habits, moments grief and joy, hope and affirmation, black beans and rice, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy.

8 things I wish I’d known about the Orthodox Church

I make lists. Some days just the act of sitting down and writing out the list feels like an accomplishment. I used to try to keep track of these things on my phone, in fact I have at least three apps plus the notepad and the calendar to keep my stuff together so to speak. It works, for a little while at least. But there’s nothing like the piece of actual paper and the hard plastic of the blue ball point pen in my hand. I just feel better writing that list. And I feel better crossing things off that list. It’s satisfying.

When I was on the long road of the catechumen I had lists in my head, on the computer and in my journals about the Orthodox tradition, on the different services, the times to make the sign of the cross, the fasting times, the feasting times, the proper greetings and so on. It was a confusing time and frankly I needed all those methods to keep things straight. It worked, for a little while at least.

I thought it might be helpful, though, for fellow travelers, weary pilgrims on the road or even future inquirers to write a list today. Lists are very trendy on the interwebs these days. I blame our culture’s ever shortening attention span but there it is.

At any rate, here are 8 things I’d want to tell someone considering Orthodoxy and let’s keep in mind that I’m no expert here. These are simply the things I wish I’d known up front-

1)It’s bigger on the inside.
There are a huge number of books, essays and articles written on the tradition, far too many for any one person to read (though I know a few people who’d be keen to attempt it.) You can’t really get what it means to be Orthodox just by reading about it. Believe me, I tried. No matter how much you read, you’ll have to step foot inside of the tradition to get a taste of it.

2)Liturgy is long.
While many churches are speeding up their services these days, punctuating them with audio and video awesomeness, Orthodox liturgies are slow moving, repetitive and yes, I’ll say it, sometimes boring to the casual observer. I think as a new attender what was most helpful for me was to imagine it as a long run rather than a quick jog. Find the rhythm of it, the deep soul of it. Over time, it begins to make sense and you begin to find your part in the whole thing. It takes time and Orthodox Liturgy allows for that.

3)We fast. A lot.
Apart from the regular weekly fasts on Wednesdays and Fridays, there are longer fasts throughout the year, Lenten Fast before Pascha (Easter) and the Nativity Fast before Christmas, there’s the fast for the Theotokos (Mary, the mother of God), not to mention the Apostle’s Fast that comes not long after Pascha. My advice if you’re going to give this fasting thing a try is to keep to the weekly gig first and then ease into the others as you go. Being over zealous on this is a set up for failure…on the other hand, not trying at all is also a recipe for failure. Get the spirit of the fasting down first. It’s not about what you eat or drink, it’s about how you approach the thing. No one is keeping score at church, trust me on this.

4)Ask questions.
If you’re very lucky, you’ll have a fellow parishioner (or twenty) who can tell you what is going on. During Liturgy I made a point to identify and hang out with people who were in the know, people who would offer small advices in the moment like,
a)”don’t block the icons when the priest comes around to cense them”
or say,
b)”now we’re going outside to process around the church.”
Later, they were able to give me a better understanding of the “why” on those things but in the moment, it was helpful to know that
a)the priest wasn’t coming to cense me
and
b)it wasn’t time to go home already.

5)Consider the source.
If you are like me you might find your way into an online discussion group concerning Orthodoxy. Not all discussion groups are created equal or trustworthy. The internet gives people (myself included) a weird sense of control and sometimes an inflated sense of authority. It can be kind of entertaining once you get the hang of the different approaches to the ancient tradition and see the family dynamics at work, to be honest. Online Orthodox Facebook groups can be like reality tv. It’s always a good idea to double check what you hear online with real life folks definitely including but not limited to your own priest, spiritual Father, godparent or even the well versed Orthodox person who told you not to block the icons that one day.

6)Relationship status: It’s complicated.
Another word about family dynamics here. There is only one “Orthodox church” really but what has happened over time is that certain family members have taken issue with others. I’ll admit I really have no clue about any of it. I married into this family so the dynamics are as much a mystery two years in as ever. It’s no Hatfield and McCoys, thankfully, but let us say that there are some members who do not wish to break bread with a few other family members. Thankfully, at the root of it all, we’re all the same family. Just ask questions if you don’t know the family tree issues but if you’re like me, be prepared to not understand a word of it.

7)Pray.
Most Christian traditions talk about praying without ceasing. In the Orthodox tradition we really mean it, literally. In addition to the daily and weekly liturgies (which will vary according to the church parish and the time of year) an Orthodox christian is encouraged to pray just about all the time. We have prayers for everything- before eating, before starting work on something, for our children, for our parents, for the military, for our own well being. You got a need? You can probably find an Orthodox prayer for it. It’s not for overkill but rather to put us into this posture of making prayer like breathing air. It’s daunting but I like it. Like fasting though, it’s not something you want to jump into all at once or all on your own. And like all of the other things that go with becoming Orthodox it takes time and patience and direction.

8)Get direction.
I always tell my priest that he’s like the dentist. He is patient with my (many) questions and offers very sound advice. I just don’t always do what he suggests. Though I know he’s probably right about it when he tells me to floss (you know, metaphorically and spiritually) it’s still up to me to follow through and you know what? I really hate flossing (literally) so sometimes I just don’t do it. In any case, meet with your priest. Talk with him about things. In my experience it was good to meet also with the Presbytera (priest’s wife) and get her take on things from time to time. Orthodoxy can be overwhelming and you may feel as though you are sitting in a dingy in the middle of the ocean at times. Don’t be afraid to send up a flare and get yourself a little help from the coast guard.

There are other things, lots of other things. Consider this your start-up list. 🙂
Good luck, fellow travelers.