Be thou my vision

Every night I hold a sleepy toddler and sing, “Be thou my vision, oh Lord of my heart.” This has been my go-to bedtime song for almost ten years now. But I found that last night, while election results were already rolling in ominously from the living room, these were the words I needed. And they were the words I needed to sing into the ear of my child. Words that are reminders of where our faith and hope really lie.

I have often turned to Psalm 146 in times of both fear of and expectation in system, leaders and government. It is a reminder that our hope lies not in princes (or presidents) but in the one who ‘created heaven and earth’ and who keeps faith forever. It is a jubilee song and we need a jubilee hope.

The Lord sets the prisoners free;
     the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;
     the Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the strangers,
     upholds the orphan and the widow,
     but the way of the wicked the Lord brings to ruin.

Both Clinton and Caine quoted scripture in their concession messages this morning. But we know that the Reign of God is not subject to the reigns and regimes of the world, however benevolent, and it may not be co-opted. The Reign of God is proclaimed most powerfully by Jesus, who never doubted his belovedness, who never doubted God’s faithfulness, and who loved and taught us how to faithfully love our neighbor and our enemy. He persisted in proclaiming God’s reign in the midst of injustice, fear, hatred and oppression.

May we hear belovedness sung into our ears and may we sing the song for those who cannot or do not hear it elsewhere. May we remember God’s faithfulness and respond with our own. May we remember God’s great love by responding with our own love in word and in action. May our hope and vision be in our love and the in love of our creator.

“Heart of my heart, whatever befall. Still be my vision, o ruler of all.”

Wisdom's Blessing

I have been dwelling with the call of Wisdom this week, as she raises her voice from Proverbs, calling to all humanity. God's Holy Wisdom in Biblical tradition is personified as a woman standing at the city gate and calling with longing for all humanity to embrace her. The Inclusive Bible reads in chapter 8, "Doesn't Wisdom call? Doesn't Understanding raise her voice?" and "I was God's delight day after day, rejoicing at being in God's presence continually, rejoicing in the whole world and delighting in humankind."

The Wisdom of God delights in us! I was inspired to write this blessing:

Mary Cassat

May you hear the voice of Wisdom.
And like a child who
     hears the call of her mother,
     and comes with eagerness
     as to a celebration,
May you run to her,
     where she waits
     with open arms
     to catch you up
     and lend you the warmth
     of her knowing.

Amen.

(Folks are welcome to use this in their own contexts, but please attribute authorship. Thanks!) 

The back of the quilt

I now have my quilt 'sandwiched' and am working on quilting. I finally landed on a pattern that I'm happy compliments the design and have no problem spending hours with the hoop and needle. But when I put the top and batting and back together it was with a little twinge of regret.

Of course I'd been eager to get to quilting but I had also relished putting all those pieces together. Hand piecing, instead of machine piecing was at times tedious - especially when I made a mistake or changed my mind about and wanted to change something. But it was also contemplative - I would get into a zone when doing those long side seams that, if I had been sewing with a machine would have zipped right by. I am proud of this quilt in a way that I never have been after machine piecing, especially when looking at it from the back. And when the quilt is all put together like it is, I will never see the back side again.

The back of the quilt top is where you see all the work. When I looked at all those thousands (maybe millions?) of stitches, I saw where I ran out of black and had to use red, and then green. I saw the places where the stitches didn't quite follow the lines I has carefully drawn to guide my needle. I am not fastidious about snipping threads or trimming ever seam perfectly. I do not make ever corner perfect (although I think I did pretty well in this project - another product of working by hand, I think). But I found myself in awe not of the front, which (I hope) I'll get to see for a long time to come, but of the back.

I loved looking at all those stitches. They represent hours. And the beauty of hand quilting is that they don't represent hours sitting at a table in a small room, as they would have if my machine had been working. They represent hours in coffee shops, on airplanes, and cars and trains, in church. Hours with people and by myself. Hours with my family and with friends. Hours waiting. Hours in conversation and in silence. Hours praying.

In this quilt, like no other I am aware of and thankful for every stitch and every minute. By the stained-glass shapes of those pieces and stitches I give thanks to the Creator for shaping a creative people who, like her can say, "it is good."