An Epiphany of Peace ...(and A Few New Veils)

Janis Rozentāls [Public domain],
 via Wikimedia Commons

I rode to work this morning anticipating a difficult week. I was headed for an avalanche of papers and far too many children on my caseload to handle.  There is a lawyer lurking ominously in the corner, wanting to enforce what I would have done anyway, but creating a burden of stress that makes it more difficult to do now. I wonder why I'm doing this at all.

I look around each workday, and the poverty and the needs and the dependency weigh heavily on me. I cannot carry it all.

But our Lord knows our needs and there is grace in spending each morning carpooling with a Christian. As we parted for the workday he said it: "You may be the only Bible that kid ever reads." Then I knew it: I don't need to be the world, I need only to try to be the willing hand of Christ in the world, and Jesus will carry both me and the world.  And, I need to bloom where I'm planted.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.  Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4: 4-7)

We also have a few new veils to share:

Purple Mantilla for Advent / Lent

Black and Silver Trimmed Mantilla

Super Soft Sheer Lace Trimmed Eternity Veil

Pax Christi Dear Ones,
I hope that your days are filled with Peace...and Grace,
~Michelle

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Yarn Scraps and Sunday's Epistle Reading

What does one do with a mismatched menagerie of yarn scraps?  They've all been used for different individual projects which were particularly well suited to their specific traits.  It was an easy fit.  They matched.

But what now?  They've come together in an ordinary place, the yarn basket.  

They are a motley crew.  They will clash, offend, and accomplish nothing, ....if left disparate.

Each has a history.  Each has spun love and warmth and beauty.  They could spend their time pressing for dominance.  Each could focus upon pushing her prior project as superior, or as the ideal fit for all of the others.  And the truth is, some projects were probably nicer than others.  But that approach will hardly be productive, will it?

But here is the thing.  They all have different traits and gifts given them by their creator. 

 All of those traits a gifts may fit together magnificently if they are joined together in unity. 

In the projects they came from, the unity was one of common purpose and design.  It is easy to fit in with your own familiar project members.  It is not so easy to blend and harmonize when you find yourself in the yarn basket.

Still, they find themselves here, with a newly shared purpose in the hands of their designer.  They might be tempted, still, to puff themselves up with pride, or to mat down tightly and feel less valuable than the others.  It is yarn nature to feel these ways, sometimes.

They may not yet be blocked square.  Loose ends may not yet be weaved in.  There is time for that.  

They have to start somewhere.

And when each plays her assigned part, with the gifts given her, the whole body grows up in maturity and becomes seamlessly delightful and quite functional.

They can come together here, in a scrap afgan, enjoy their time, share their gifts, and the result can be beautiful.  

  

Ephesians 4:1-16

King James Version (KJV)

4 I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called,

² With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love;
³ Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
⁴ There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling;
⁵ One Lord, one faith, one baptism,
⁶ One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.
⁷ But unto every one of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ.
⁸ Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men.
⁹ (Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth?
¹⁰ He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.)
¹¹ And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;
¹² For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:
¹³ Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ:
¹⁴ That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive;
¹⁵ But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ:
¹⁶ From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love.

Pax Christi, Dear Ones,
~Michelle

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Stress, Home, and the Workplace: Being an Instrument of the Peace of Christ

By Jkadavoor (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/
licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The atmosphere of my days takes a sharp shift in the first week of July, as I leave the peace of home and return to the workplace.  No matter how many years I have done this, my stress level always soars at this time.  Part of that is due to the heavy workload of a public school speech pathologist.  A good measure of it, though, is due to something else.

This is, in my opinion, a good reason for a mother's workplace to be restricted to home. Through careful planning, my husband and I always ensured that our daughter was home with one of us.  During her childhood, neither of us really ever worked full time.  While she was an infant and toddler, I only worked on Saturday mornings.  As a preschooler, she attended preschool two two hour mornings per week, while I worked.  Later, as a school employee, I was always home when she was home.  Still, I believe that the stress of the workplace touched my family in a way that was not ideal for us.  But, that is the subject for another post...

As I returned to work this year, I contemplated what that "something else", beyond workload, that generated stress, might be.  This is what I have come up with:

By John Severns = Severnjc (Photo by John Severns.)[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It seems that whenever adults are assembled in any sort of joint endeavor, power struggles are wont to ensue.  Schools are no exception.  I suspect that we human beings, frail as we are, always find ourselves grasping for validation.  It may be human nature to believe that the shortest path to validation is to subtract it from another, thus evening the score.

One of the really wonderful things about school based employment, is that one is enabled to start fresh yearly.  My goal this year is to rise above the grasping for power and control, or at least, to allow it to float by without touching me.  After all, it is my job as a Christian to spread the love of Christ, feeble as I am.

Perhaps the Peace Prayer, attributed by legend (although probably not accurately) to St. Francis, is the perfect guide for this endeavor:

By Photo (c)2006 Derek Ramsey (Ram-Man)
 (Own work (Own Picture))
 [GFDL 1.2 (http://www.gnu.org/licenses/old-licenses/fdl-1.2.html)],
 via Wikimedia Commons

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

Pax Christi,

Peace of Christ, May We Be Instrument of His Peace

~Michelle

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Wounded, We All Need Stitching

Sharing the joys, contentment, and lessons of everyday life with:

~~~~~

{Pretty}

I brush a hand over the sewing table, to whisk away the glinting sparkles from half-doilies that shine...with semi-futility.  I harbor a hope that if Kyri finds a pink or blue glint of kippah sparkle that I missed, on her pristine white chapel veil, she'll simply pick it off with a smile on her lips and grace in her heart. These sparkles are stubborn; they want the whole church to shine.

Soft white stretch lace is arranged gently on the table and spread flat.  Ornate venise lace motifs require hand tacking, one by one.  I'll be here awhile.

I don't mind.  There is healing to do.



Fine white thread through the eye of a needle....Narrow is the way, and I think of the camel...

"Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle..."

{Happy}

The stitching begins.  My eyes are getting middle aged.  I never anticipated bifocals, but here they are.  Funny that your eyes need lenses to see clearly as you age...yet, your spirit doesn't really see very clearly before then, does it?

One silky motif at a time, carefully arranged, secured in place.  Things set right.

I think of things off kilter, and broken relationships, and seeing one that you love in a theater and knowing that the bridge is burned, and not knowing entirely where the fault lies.  Of words poorly chosen, and misunderstood.  We spread fault around like popcorn, really, and it is hard to put away caring for one that has been placed on your heart.

The sewing is healing; every veil a prayer.  The stitches come smoothly and they glide hurt away.  Silky white venise threads catch light.  So beautiful.  Pure, like hope.

{Real}

I think of a California veil headed for sometimes Russian Orthodox services in Australia, and realization falls familiar of how we are all connected across miles, by silky threads.  How diaphanous Summer-light lace can sparkle Winter white, depending on the hemisphere.

...Of memories of mothers' confirmation veils, how love stretches long across decades of time,...and of how exquisite lace captures, cradles, and preserves love in its delicate weave.

...Of fragile lace sewn on the machine of a grandmother long gone, and then passed gently, quietly, from one Christian woman's hands to those of another, across a huge expanse of miles.  And how Christ runs through all of us, no matter the distance, and we are his Body, one and whole.

How sometimes the span is miles, and sometimes it is hurt and misunderstanding and brokenness.

So many veils, gentle on the hair of so many praying women, with hurts to heal, and healing to give.

How He wraps us in his arms and holds us together, even when bridges are burned and tiny living threads are broken.

{Healed and Happy}

I think of veils sewn and of praying women, and of hurt.  How we all carry hurt and just want one another to heal it, and sometimes get mad when we don't do the healing.

And then familiar prayers fall soft and quiet, for ones who don't know they are being prayed for, over years, across arches of ash.  Hoping they will find love and joy and peace.  Praying there will be little ones and love grown old and wrinkled.  Prayers don't need feet on wood slats to travel over gulfs of pain.

The stitches keep coming.  One by one.  Tying hearts together across miles and gulfs and pride.

I steam-press a delicate veil on its way to Australia, under a cotton tea towel sent from Britain,...Three women touch fingertips across continents, in Christ.

Love pours over lace and holds fast.  Grace falls over each of us, gently, and settles soft...enfolding us in the love of Our Lord...edged in venise hope.

...touched by Christ our Healer.

Pax Christi, Dear Ones,
~Michelle

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Patriarchy, Biblical Womanhood, and Men Who Don't Like Women

Disdain for women makes me angry.  Really angry.

There is a difference between men, and even women, who harbor anger toward women, and those who believe that women occupy a cherished position.

There is a difference between men who believe that women should be humiliated, and those who believe that women should be protected and honored for their nurturing role.

There is a difference between men who believe that womanhood is suspect, and those who believe that womanhood is sacred.

And sometimes, on the surface, they can look exactly the same.

There is a movement among Christian groups that I welcome.  Christians of all stripes are re-embracing the concepts of traditional family roles and patriarchy.  It is, in my opinion, a good thing.  I believe that families and individuals are healthier within the context of Biblical roles.  However, not everyone who embraces that structures of patriarchy, and traditional family life, embraces the heart of those approaches.

Sometimes, people just don’t like women.  Sometimes people harbor distrust for women.  Sometimes men don't value womanhood as something sacred to be defended and protected at all costs.  And patriarchy looks pretty good to folks like that.

When movements are new, (or old movements are reviving), all adherents tend to gather together and  jump in the same basket.  It can take a while to sort things out.

We would all do well to resist assuming that the dust jacket unfailingly belongs to the book.

I don’t suppose that this differentiation is any more critical than in the evaluation of a suitor.

My husband made a statement, a week or so ago, that won’t come as a surprise to anyone.  It’s common folk wisdom.  Men are like that aren’t they?  We women analyze and scrutinize, dissect and inspect, and talk ourselves into all sorts of conclusions.  But men are simple creatures, in the very best of ways.  When they see a duck, they call it a duck, and move on.

“The best two ways to evaluate a man are to look at how he treats his mother, and at the words that come out of the mouths of his friends.”

I’ve heard if from him before.  I just don’t always listen.

Perhaps those of us who embrace Biblical womanhood, patriarchy, and traditional family roles, would do well to consider that simple statement.  Healthy, happy, and safe, family life for women who wish to enter into  a traditional Biblical marriage may depend on it.

~~~~~

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Brokenness, and the Great Shepherd

This past week was a rather Hellish one for me, as it happens.  I work for a school district in a very low socioeconomic area.  Our kids, in general, have little parenting. They are street smart.  Most of them have seen things that I have not, ...even the little ones.  My heart breaks regularly.

Driving home on the last workday of a week that drained me of everything I had to give, I experienced what I always do, as I reach the outskirts of our small rural town,... relief...and the first wisps of peace.  And then, I saw it.  The sheep are back.

They generally reach our town sometime in Lent, guided by their shepherd on a journey that spans a great deal of this part of California.  Their farmer is paid to clear fields, but they do the clearing.  It fills their bellies, so I don't think they mind.  I am blessed by their return to our leg of their journey, each year, because I am reminded, by their presence, that Lent leads to Easter.  They herald the return of Spring ... and resurrection.

I could not see the shepherd this time, but I knew he was there.  He is always there, like his father and grandfather were before him, watching over his flock.  The shepherds come up to California, from Mexico, on work visas, for this journey. They are valuable to the farmer, because they know their job.  They know sheep; they were born into them.

I pulled over today, to the side of the road, and watched the flock, along with the shepherd.  I knew that, even though I could not see him, he was watching me. He is attentive to his charges and mindful of any dangers they might face.  They follow his direction; he keeps them safe.

As I watched, I was touched by the simplicity of their existence.  They are safe and at peace because they do what they are told.    While I appreciate the priceless gift of freedom, and the advantages of being human, with its attendant autonomy and self-determination, I acknowledge that we, too, have a Shepherd.  He has given us direction, boundaries, and guidelines in his Word...and we, if we will only follow them, can have peace and safety.

I know that some people see religious "rules" as being undesirable and restrictive.  I see them as a gift. They are not meant to limit us, they are meant to protect us and free us up to live.

I see the results of people's choices not to follow these guidelines every day, in broken homes and broken children.  I know that if we will appreciate the gift of the Word of God, and follow it, we will be blessed with true freedom.

Pax Christi, Peace of Christ,
~Michelle

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Remembering Whose We Are

Our store bought Christmas tree has a pine cone on it.  

Can you see it there?  We have never had that happen before.

Our tree remembers.

It remembers where it came from; it remembers what it is.  In the midst of Christmas celebration, commercial and otherwise...with the prospect of tinsel, and sparkling lights, and man-made ornaments coming its way, it remembers the forest...or at least the tree farm.

 It knows it is a pine tree.

~~~~~

Do we?  Do we remember what we are?  Whose we are?  In the middle of a secular culture, a culture that elevates physical appearance and money and earthly acclamation over things that matter, do we remember what we are called to be?  Do we remember what really matters?

Will we hang on, like that single, solitary pine cone,  for dear life... in spite of being tossed about by the trappings and the trials of this world,... to home...to our maker...to Our Lord?
For dear life?

So that we might bring Him glory?

"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are!  The reason the world does not know us, is that it did not know him."

~1 John 3:1

Rest in him.  Nativity is only days away!

Pax Christi,
~Michelle

Oh, and don't forget our headcovering giveaway.  We're excited!   We hope you are too!
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Best of 2011 @http://www.shandaoakleyinspires.com/
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Ripping Stitches

I've been cutting a lot of lace lately.  It's the most stressful part, for me, of the veil making...








...Stitches can be redone, but a cut is a cut...and good lace is expensive.  One slip of that rotary cutter, and I have lost some lace.  








I was thinking today how much different sewing is from yarn work.  Crochet stitches can be pulled out and redone, with the yarn no worse for the wear, ...but when sewn stitches are ripped from material, there is a hole left...and cuts in material with a blade are permanent.

~~~~~

Jesus took our rotary cutter life, and gave us a crochet hook life.  We err; we sin; we are fallen.  But he is perfect, and he has redeemed us.  We are forgiven.  And, as we strive to follow after him, we will stumble.  There will be more than a few missed stitches, but he has given us the opportunity for forgiveness.  

It doesn't mean that we ought to take the call to holiness lightly, but as we strive to grow in him, we can rest assured that there is always forgiveness, and the opportunity to start again.  Let us savor the gift.


God Bless you in Your Walk with Him,
Pax Christi,
~Michelle

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An Advent Life

It's about one week away,..Christmas.  Three weeks of Advent have come and gone.  For all my talk of preparation and waiting, have I waited?  Have I prepared?   There comes a day in every preparatory liturgical season when the awareness washes over me that the event I've been waiting upon stands almost at the door.  It happens to me in Lent, too.

I'm suddenly aware of a season more than half over, and so ill used.  The time is slipping progressively away, and I have so much left to do...prayer, contemplation, self examination. I seem to be convicted of doing more thinking about doing these things, than actually doing them. My prayer beads lay untouched this Advent season.  Three weeks.  Can you believe it? I have not spent enough time in the Word.  I've been too distracted by all the noise in my head from thoughts that I ought to spend more quiet time in the Word, this season...to settle down and do it.  The beads are meant to center me, to hone my focus and rivet it upon him, but they cannot if I leave them untouched, and cold.

He stands at the door and knocks, and I am...dependent upon his grace.  I am unprepared.

~~~~~

My 45th birthday approaches soon.  Forty-five years have come and nearly gone.  My season is probably a little more than half over.  Have I accomplished what I set out to do?  Have I even decided fully what I wish to set out to do?  

I am unprepared.  I have spent 45 years rushing about, thinking on what I should be doing.  

He stands at the door and knocks.  He will, God willing, be there for many years to come, on the other side of the thin veil of this dust and sweat existence.    Perhaps, this year, this Advent, I will learn to simply open the door, sit a spell with him, pick up the prayer beads in the quiet, and listen to his presence.  

Life is an Advent.  I am dependent upon his grace.  It washes over me and stills my hurried soul.  He is born in me...again.  I am born, and I am redeemed.

~~~~~

He is enough, friends.  We will never be enough; he is more than enough.  Be at Peace.  Be Well.

Pax Christi,

~Michelle

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