One answer to my prayer for discipline to get myself physically in shape for the years of aging ahead has been a delightful new walking partner. This woman, who lives in the housing development across the street, meets me each weekday morning, and we do either our “short” walk (30 minutes), “high” walk (on the nearby Prairie Path; ~40 minutes) or “long” walk (3.25 miles; today we did that walk in 69 minutes—a vast improvement over when we started!).

At a certain point on the way back, we stop chatting, and one of us moves unselfconsciously into a season of prayer, making the time exceedingly rich.

A couple weeks ago, my walking partner mentioned she had memorized some passages from Scripture as an antidote to anxiety. I said, “Oh, I’d love to hear that.” She quoted two whole chapters from Acts! Everyone should have a walking partner like this. In addition to holding each other accountable to physical exercise, I can foresee myself scrambling to match memorized Scriptures with her. (I quoted four verses from a Colossians passage; she quoted another chapter—this is going to keep me on my mnemonic toes for sure!)

At one point a few years ago, our Mainstay staff had gone four pay-periods without paychecks. It was a very tense time for us. So I was observing a partial fast—a small meal every two days—and holding a noontime prayer vigil daily in the kitchen. At times like these, we begin to ask, “Are You walking with us, Jesus?” One day, I sat in silence and asked, “What is it you have to say to me, Lord? Is there something I need to hear?”

I thought I heard the inner Word, “It is coming.” So I turned to Scripture for verification, flipping the pages to Psalm 70. “Come quickly, LORD, and help me,” the psalmist cries. “I am poor and needy; please hurry to my aid, O God. You are my helper and my savior; O LORD, do not delay.” (vv. 1b, 5, NLT)

I am old enough to know there is a rhythm to the seasons in our lives. Some seasons we prosper; some seasons we taste poverty and failure. The human assignment for us all, as far as I can tell, it to learn to “dance,” to step in time to the orchestra of abundance and to step as well—learning the hidden lessons—to abasement. People in all economic levels, at all stages of education, in all work professions seem to experience these life-cycles. Our walking if filled with hills and valleys.

Frankly, I don’t know if I heard a sure inner Word on that day when I looked at these Scriptures. Nor do I know, if I did, what “it” is—“it” could be anything! “It” could be success, or “it” could be failure—both extremes hold perils. But I do know that many saints of God have trod the way of desperation before me and give testimony to the fact that they have experienced the Presence of the Unseen Who has been walking in step with them during their trying times. I really have two walking partners. One is the human woman who meets me in the mornings. The other is divine, and He meets me at points all along the day—low walks, short walks, “high paths,” and the long three-milers.

Of course, He is walking with me. If I notice it and think about it, no matter the condition of the path, we are in step.

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design training material that will teach retreat leaders how to conduct retreats of silence. In addition, she is designing a Webinar that will mentor writing wanabees. The topic of that Webinar will be Personal Memoir Writing. Details are on the Karen Burton Mains Web site, www.karenburtonmains.com.

Years ago, it was the season of life when I found myself sitting in the audience of the annual spring Kindergarten Circus for the morning class. My granddaughter, Joscelyn, was part of the Elephant Dance—the last act after the Tightrope Walkers, the Seals, the Strong People, etc.

Now I had been informed of this event, but when my answering machine yielded a charming invitation from Josie the night before, I decided that no matter how busy the schedule, I simply had to be part of the audience. Of course, it was a delightful morning, filled with performing children and adoring parents and exhausted teachers.

I was a little concerned, however. Josie was part of the last act and dressed in what looked to be a very warm elephant outfit. She and her two partners had to sit in the front row under hot lights and wait for a whole hour for their turn.

“Weren’t you hot, Josie?” I asked after I had praised her for her remarkable two-stepping little dance with the other Elephant kindergartners. Pushing up her floppy elephant trunk, she shook her head up and down. “Well, maybe,” I whispered, “you could take your elephant costume off now.” She did so did immediately, with smiles and a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry Papa couldn’t come, but I’ll tell him all about it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she replied, taking refreshments from her mother’s hand. “You were here and that’s what makes it so very special to me.” Then it was my turn to melt.

Coming home, I began to build an analogy in my mind (I am a writer, after all). Isn’t much of life like the Kindergarten Circus? Everyone else comes first, doing their tumbling and fake weightlifting and rigged magic acts, and we’re sitting in some front row somewhere in a hot, uncomfortable costume, waiting for our turn to do our little two-step. It begins to seem inappropriate, or silly, or long. Then we realize that Someone is in the audience—Someone who has come just to watch us do whatever it is we do. We scootch around in our uncomfortable costume (whatever role life has assigned us), move the wrong way, correct ourselves, get back in step with the other dancing elephants.

But it’s all okay. God has come to be with us, to cheer and applaud, to wave from the audience, to say to our hearts, “I’m so very proud of you.” None of the inconveniences really matter. Nor does the fact that other people have been watching their children and don’t care that we’re hot and long-waiting. God is here. That is what makes everything so very special. “The LORD himself watches over you!” Psalm 121:5a, NLT.

Now that is a truth worth dancing about (even when life’s a little hot).

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

This is a terror to me: Sometimes I become so preoccupied that I forget certain appointments that are on my calendar—particularly the phone appointments that require no physical space and are only a notation on my Day Runner, my desk calendar and my kitchen calendar. (It’s not as though I don’t try to remind myself. I keep hearing my husband asking in disbelief when I confess that, once again, I’ve something on my schedule. “Do you write this down in your calendar?” he asks. Well, writing it down isn’t the problem; checking it with serious regularity is.)

So, I am, consequently, often having to make apologies to friends and acquaintances. “I’m sorry, I forgot” always seems so lame. And despite all the working years I’ve accumulated in a lifetime, and despite the fact I pride myself on being a conscientious Christian woman who doesn’t disappoint, neglect or inconvenience others, I’ve never really had a personal secretary to sit on this flaw in my personality. How I envy those movie moments when some important CEO is reminded that he or she has a conference call at 10:00, a luncheon appointment at 12:30. Briefing sheets, research reports—there they all are—at hand, no wonder he/she is an apogee of efficient living.

One week, having more than its weight of sorrow, I missed a spiritual telementoring call—embarrassment again (I am the spiritual telementor). This poem by Elizabeth Rooney had been sitting on my desk all week, but it seemed an appropriate message to include with my abject apology. I include it in this blog. It is a reminder that missteps are part of the dance of life—they are often the way we learn establish a rhythm, looking humiliatingly awkward as we do so. For me, missteps are a way of developing the rhythm of humility.

Opening

Now is the shining fabric of our day
Torn open, flung apart,
Rent wide by Love.
Never again
The tight, enclosing sky,
The blue bowl,
Or the star-illumined tent.
We are laid open to infinity,
For Easter Love
Has burst His tomb and ours.
Now nothing shelters us
From God’s desire—
Not flesh, not sky,
Not stars, not even sin.
Now Glory waits
So He can enter in.
Now does the dance begin.
—Elizabeth Rooney

Each day that we practice being in step with God is preparation here on Earth for the day when the dance will never end. Pray for me. I always spend a little time praying for whomever reads these little messages. (Pray that I will remember to keep my appointments so I will be practiced at keeping the Final Appointment!)

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

One Saturday morning, about 6:37, I popped into Panera Bread in St. Charles to pick up 54 individually packaged salads for the women’s retreat that Hungry Souls, the little ministry I head, sponsored. It was called “Summer Slowing for the Soul.” I could tell by the face of the woman behind the counter that she had no clue as to the whereabouts of 54 salads. Nor, after hunting around, did she have an order for them.

“Look,” I said to her, imagining what a shocking beginning this might be to her workday. “We’re not going to sweat this. Fortunately, I’m early. So I’ll just have a cup of coffee, read the paper, and if I get out of here around 8 o’clock, we’ll still be OK. I don’t want you to be upset. I too have been known to be prone to human error.”

That was an understatement.

By the time I left Panera Bread around 8:10, I’d been plied with free coffee, a huge imprinted sack with sourdough rolls, and to make up for their error, three gift certificates worth $18. I thought I had conducted myself in a kind Christian manner. Several people in the long line waiting for morning coffee particularly complimented me on my calm approach.

I did not question myself one moment, until later in the afternoon, after 52 women had successfully slowed their soul in the spring sunshine at the Catholic Retreat Center nearby, and I had hauled all the “props” back home. It was then my husband, ever the pragmatist, asked, “Are you sure you went to the right Panera Bread?”

Pure panic set in. Sure enough, there was a message on my answering machine: “Uh, Mrs. Mains, this is Mitch from Panera Bread. We’ve had your order for 54 individual salads ready since 7:00. It is now 9:00. Will you please call me?”

I certainly AM prone to human error. I had ordered from the wrong store, and I didn’t have a clue which of the 12 in my area had been stuck with 54 individual salads that were not paid for. Thank God I’d had the charity to be kind to the shocked woman who rallied her staff to fill my order.

Now I had a choice. The deed was done. I hated to think of paying an unnecessary $143 from my retreat earnings of $525. But I had obviously misstepped; what did the dance with God require of me now?

If you’re dancing with God, you have to keep dancing even when you misstep. I spent Monday morning calling Panera Breads until one manager (in Geneva) said, “Yep. That’s us. Fifty-four salads—20 Asiago cheese; 16 Fandango; 16 Chef’s Salad with chicken.”

“Well, I want to make this right. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh no, lady,” he replied. “We just mixed them in with the lunch-crowd orders. The problem isn’t with you (I knew it WAS with me); the problem is with the other management team. We’re trained to call the other stores if something like this happens; they didn’t do that.”

I couldn’t believe it! How had this reprieve come my way? I was free to go misstepping another day. (Hopefully, I would remember when making another phone order, to inquire as to location.)

Once a friend said, “Grace is God giving us enough time to get it right.” If that isn’t melody for the soul that is out of step, I don’t know what is.

For me, my daily life dance lessons seem to go on and on. Listen to this, another melody:

“But everyone knows you are obedient to the Lord.
This makes me very happy.
I want you to see clearly what is right
and to stay innocent of any wrong.
The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.
May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.” Romans 16:19-20.

Keep dancing.

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Three blogs ago, I remarked that when we learn to look for God and find Him in the circumstances of the everyday, we can become breathless with how frequently He extends His hands to us, pulling us close, and twirling us in the dance that is stepping with Him.

Four categories help us to find God in the everyday. These are:

1.  Any obvious answer to prayer.
2.  Any help to do God’s work in the world.
3.  Any unexpected evidence of His care.
4.  Any unusual linkage or timing.

What is the God Hunt? The God Hunt is anytime God intervenes in our everyday lives, and we recognize it to be Him.

For instance, when I was clearing out the Annex building across the street from our office on Main Place in preparation to sell it, I discovered that a vacant building shows all its flaws. I was dreading taking on the responsibility of hiring repairmen, painters and contacting a realtor—all time-consuming responsibilities I suspected might fall on my shoulders.

Driving from home toward our main office, I kept seeing a huge commercial “For Rent” sign posted on the street of one of the neighboring office buildings. How will anyone even see our little “For Sale” sign when we put it up? I thought.

Two days later, David received a phone call from someone interested in buying the Annex, which despite its need for repairs was a lovely Colonial-style brick building. “We haven’t even contacted a realtor!” I exclaimed. “The inside still needs cleaning! The outside has to be scrapped and painted! How did they find out it would be for sale?”

It seems the woman who called David had pulled into the parking lot of our neighbors with the HUGE “For Rent” sign. She thought that sign was posted on our property. She called the phone number, realized her mistake, but that neighbor told her he thought our building would be for sale and gave her our phone number. We showed it with all its flaws on a Monday afternoon, without a realtor and without an appraisal.

In short time, we reached an as-is agreement and sold a broom-cleaned, vacuumed empty building in need of repairs to Union Local XX. I had been mourning the loss of my office in the Annex, the downsizing of our staff, the closing of our radio studio, the loss of our living-room-like planning space. I was allowing all these impossible improbabilities (not to mention the weeks I had been sorting and clearing) to overwhelm me.

Without even a little, innocuous “For Sale” sign, the building had been sold. Through this odd set of circumstances, God said to me (in that inwardly persuasive sort of way He has), “You know, Karen, I can take care of this stuff you’ve been wasting your energy worrying about.”

Obvious answer to prayer; unusual linkage and timing; unexpected evidence of His care—it’s all there. “I spy!” “I spy God!” It is easy for us, humans with myopic vision, folks who would all too often rather drag their feet during trying circumstances than to lift them to life’s rhythms (all life’s rhythms—dirges as well as festival hymns) to miss even these big God-events, let alone the diminutive occasions.

Remember, if you seek for Him in the everyday, you may become breathless with how frequently He twirls you around.

“Seek me and you will find me if you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you.” Jeremiah 29:13.

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

One week, several years back, I spent a great deal of time on my knees. I wasn’t at prayer; I was cleaning the kitchen in the Mainstay Ministries office building. Because of an economic downturn, we were consolidating our office space, moving from the Annex building across the street, which had a kitchen of its own. But before I could combine that kitchen with our existing kitchen in the main office, I needed to empty and clean one kitchen, and rearrange the sadly neglected space in the other. That entailed moving the Coke machine and the refrigerator, cleaning under them, dumping and sorting the clutter that gathers in communal spaces, reposition the eating tables, storage cupboards, ditching junk and scrubbing every inch. Hardly what I would call dancing moments (I have been looking at dance as a metaphor for living in God’s sacred rhythms).

Now all this effort was complicated by the fact that somewhere in all this, while leaving my daughter’s house I took a misstep, twisted my ankle and fell to the ground. Since it was closer for me to crawl to my car by the curb and much less humiliating than scooting back up the walk to her front door, I drove off not knowing whether I had broken anything. At least I could drive.

Amazingly, after icing my foot and elevating my ankle, I was able to meet grandchildren that night at the movies (using my father-in-law’s cane, which I kept, fortuitously, when we cleared through the remains of his estate). By Sunday I was walking without it; by Wednesday I was back to mopping floors at the office on my hands and knees. This, however, was accompanied by moans and groans since during my misstep, I had also scraped my left knee like a little kid falling off a bike, and in order to get up I had to maneuver the right ankle (which had the funniest bruise—large and dark, clothing the whole joint like a 19th-century gentleman’s spat) just so. I’m sure our staff thought I was trying to gain their sympathy and attention. (Of course I wasn’t, though it does seem to me that some of them might have given me a hand, crippled as I was and as unpleasant the task.)

All the while, pressing onward in my private war against aesthetic criminality—I don’t mind living without much money, but I hate disorder and ugliness, which often happens in office places where there is no police-warden type to keep the material things in
shape—this little phrase kept nudging my thoughts: “Do you understand what I have done to you?” These words are spoken by Christ from the Gospel account where He washes His disciples’ feet. “If I then, the Lord and Master have washed your feet, you must wash each other’s feet.” John 13:1-15.

So I wasn’t dancing. I certainly wasn’t praying, but I spent a week at 370 South Main Place in Wheaton, Illinois in a kind of foot-washing season. Next on the list was clearing out and cleaning the women’s bathroom (we were condensing five bathrooms from the two buildings into two bathrooms in the remaining building). And just to make sure that I didn’t lose my battle against aesthetic crime, I stopped and clipped magnolia blossoms from the yard of the Annex we had sold. I arranged them in two glass vases for the office kitchen tables. Beauty is persistent; it will make its way up through the ashes—the debris of economic collapses, the rubble of neglect and negligence, but perhaps that is because it is also nurtured at the cost of someone’s willingness to serve.

“Do you understand what I have done to you?” No, none of us will ever understand, but spending time on our knees scrubbing up everyone else’s mess isn’t a bad place to start. This knee-work is akin to the stretching exercises ballet dancers perform at the studio barre—bending and stretching, bending and stretching. There are no pirouettes, no pas de deux of any merit until the dancers have done the secret labor of knee-work, exercises that make the muscles flexible, the body lithe and the limbs graceful.

Missteps, uncomfortable as they are, dangerous as they might be, can bring us down. And from time to time, that isn’t always a bad place for us to be.

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

One day some years ago, I got locked out of the house—for the whole day! The day was warm—a truly rare spring moment. By 5:30 a.m. I was in the yard, raking leaves and fallen twigs off the garden beds. For a dedicated gardener, after a long winter, this can create a state of total absorption (dare I say bliss?).

I had originally doled out to myself two or three hours of labor before I went to work on the writing project assigned for the day, but at 9:00, when I went to wash my hands and clean up, I discovered that one of my housemates, the last one out the door (adult son or husband) had left for work, tightly locked up, and with no thought for the fact that I was tucked blissfully into the back garden. I was abandoned in the world with no keys, no cell phone, my hair wild, my jeans smeared with mud and clogs clotted with clods of earth.

The neighbor next door was gone, same for the one in back. I decided to walk to my son and daughter-in-law’s house about one mile away. It was a great day for walking, although my garden clogs were not designed for trekking, and when I arrived at their house, I discovered they were not a home. The whole world in West Chicago, Illinois appeared to have been seduced outside by the wondrous (70-something degree) weather. So, I waited a little—just in case they showed up—then turned around and walked back to my own yard.

Suddenly, it struck me: Maybe the very best way I could step in harmony with God, who is, after all, the Master Gardener, would be to submit to reality and just spend the whole day outside, putting as much in order as my energy would allow and my muscles could stand.

Consequently, I enjoyed an absolutely wondrous gardening day and got a huge head start on spring chores. Nine beds were raked, hoed, weeded, cultivated and trenched; garbage pails of leaves were dumped in the woods for compost. And as far as my own comforts—I had taken two Aleve tablets before stepping outside, and there were bottles of water in the garage, as well as the woods nearby for any emergency physical contingencies. I simply needed to devote myself wholly to this unexpected set of circumstances.
 
Sometimes (have you discovered this?) God does for us what we will not do for ourselves. One of the daily ways I note his intervention is to find Him through any unexpected evidences of his care for me. Can you picture this scenario? The God of the Universe says, “Oh, it’s going to be a remarkable gardening day in the Chicagoland area! Let’s lock all the gardeners outside (including Karen) so they can have a perfectly happy day without feeling guilty.” Then I can hear all this chuckling and laughter in Heaven. What a divine joke! God gave me, at least, the very thing I wanted most and would not have given to myself. He locked me out.

Sometimes we are so earnest, so locked into schedules and events and appointments and responsibilities, we don’t take time to dance. We can’t find moments to waltz. God is planning this little improvisational moment in our lives, but He can’t get our attention. Is He locking you out of anything? Does He have something else in mind for your day, your season of life, your years ahead? Do you think?

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Dennis Sherbeck was a temporary employee; he worked as our audio engineer and sound editor for our daily radio show, The Chapel of the Air, which broadcasted daily over 500 outlets nationally. Usually, the Sherbecks served as missionaries to Pakistan, and Dennis worked with us when home on furlough.

After I sat in my husband’s office one morning, I felt I had been neglectful in not getting better acquainted. He and his wife, Diane, recounted the Sunday morning when they had been leading worship in a church that was bombed by extremist followers of Islam. Six were killed that morning and many others injured. “Normally,” they explained, “we sit on the side where most of those who died sat, but this Sunday morning, since we were in charge of the service, we were sitting up front.”

Though even the recounting of this memory brought back intense feelings, which the whole family was still dealing with, the Sherbecks nevertheless added, “We had many remarkable God Hunt sightings.” The God Hunt is a spiritual game we taught to our own four children, then to thousands of radio listeners, and finally included in several of our 50-Day Spiritual Adventures, a church-wide spiritual growth event.

They told of the attack on the grade school their 11-year-old son attended, how the terrorists were delayed in their plans and arrived 15 minutes after the children had all been called back into class from recess on the playground. They told of the Pakistani Christian worker who hurried to escape but couldn’t climb over the high fence behind the school building. Suddenly, two men wearing long white robes came and said, “Let us help you.” One kneeled so the fleeing worker could stand on his back; the other boosted him over the barrier. When he turned to thank them, they were gone.

It occurred to me, as David and I listened to these remarkable stories, that in this world where death seems to be rising at the hands of lawlessness and increasing militarism, that we need to know (and teach our children, our grandchildren and others) how to find God in the everyday.

The God Hunt is a simple practice that yields profound results. “Seek me and you will find me if you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” proclaims the prophet Jeremiah on behalf of the Lord. Jeremiah 29:13-14a.

Let’s concentrate in the next few blogs on learning to go on the God Hunt—a kind of spiritual quick-stepping (in light of the dancing metaphor I have been employing to open our thinking about stepping into God’s sacred rhythms) that makes us aware of God’s daily activity in our lives. When we learn to intentionally seek for God every day, we can become breathless with how frequently He extends His hand to us, pulls us close and twirls us around.

The first question we must ask is: Am I looking for God in my everyday world?

The second question we must consider is: Am I finding Him?

Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

It seems to me that a great deal of 18th- and 19th-century English literature has to do with matronly women persuading eligible young men to invite eligible young women (and some not so eligible) to dance. Think of Darcy (popularized now in the PBS television series and also in film), that arrogant aristocrat so deftly imagined by Jane Austen in her classic Pride and Prejudice. When Darcy, at a country dance, is asked to comment on the local beauties, particularly Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he haughtily replied that she is “passable.” Not a great start—later in the story, he asks her to dance, only to learn the “passable” young woman had overheard his judgment!

Having been raised in a conservative religious background that frowned on social dancing, I have no personal history with this kind of social invitation. However, since literature, film (think of Dirty Dancing) and stage (this summer we saw Bernstein’s musical, West Side Story, and loved the scene where a well-meaning community organizer brought opposing gangs together on the theory that if they danced together they wouldn’t fight with each other), I think I understand that dancing with someone else is all in who is doing the inviting and how the invitation is given.

Perhaps it would be good to remind ourselves of some of these scenes in the vast body of creative work that chronicles all these invitations to dance. Perhaps it would be good to think about the last person to invite you to dance who you wanted to invite you to dance.
Then, think about the invitation that God is extending to those humans with whom He is choosing to partner: Shall we dance?

Perhaps this poem might help your meditation. Who is it who is inviting you to dance…?



When He invites you to dance, what will you say to His outstretched hand?


Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

In a conversation with some Greek Orthodox friends, one of the women, a theology student used this phrase to describe the nature of the Trinity. “Ah, yes,” she said, knowingly. “Perichoresis koinonia.” Perichoresis koinonia? … I had never heard of this. My Reformation, Protestant, Anabaptist background had obviously left me with some holes in my theological understanding.

A word-search explained things. Peri- is from the Greek word for “around,” and is also the root for the English word “perimeter.” The English word “choreography” (literally, “dance-writing”) is from the Greek choreia and graphe. It is also related to the Greek choresis, which means “dancing.” Koinonia is the Greek word meaning “fellowship.” The whole phrase—perichoresis koinonia—means, literally, “dancing around.”

In a sense, the Holy Trinity is the first dance troupe! More amazingly, we humans are invited to step into that sacred dance, to keep step with the Holy Three as they are in step with one another.

I believe we humans long subliminally to enter that joyful circle—to be part of an encircling embrace in which we feel (at last) that we truly belong.

So how do we get to that place where we begin to understand that we are “dancing around” (in step finally) with God—with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit?

Here are a few of the rules I am trying to learn in my own daily ‘dance’ practice.

Those who learn to dance with God must understand these basic dancing concepts:

1.  A dancer must want to learn to love being a part of the holy dance.

2.  A dancer must learn to accept the invitation (in daily and weekly practice) to the dance.

3.  A dancer must understand that there will always be missteps, that as far as holy dancing is concerned, we are all novices.

4.    All must work at becoming proficient at stepping in time.

5.    Good dancers must learn to let go and follow.

6.    It is important to realize and continually remember that this is not solo dancing; it is a tandem exercise.

7.    Eventually all great dancers learn to let the dance take over.

8.    In time the dancer becomes the dance; and the dance becomes the dancer.

Just to give you an idea, here are a few of the “dance” steps I have practiced already this day: When I wake in the middle of the night, I turn my spirit, gently and quietly, to prayer. This is a quiet soft-shoe step that reminds me that God is not sleeping, that His love is nearby, and that my concerns are His concerns. This morning, early, I read a chapter in the devotional book I am reading. I wrote, as I do often twice a day, in my prayer journal—I placed all the activities and plans of my day in his hands. All of this took place before 5:30 in the morning.

A whole day stretches forth in which to keep step with Him—this day and the next and the day after that.

But first, do you want to join the perichoresis koinonia? Do you want to step in time with the Ones who are beyond time?

Karen Mains
KM1-23


Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Much of my life has been spent in the publishing and communication industries. I’ve written about 24 books (actually, somewhere along the line I stopped counting. I keep thinking of that sardonic comment by Francis Bacon—was it Francis Bacon?—“of the making of books there is no end”). If I haven’t been writing my own books, I’ve been party to the making of published materials. I’ve discovered that there is a cycle in publishing that has driven me, frustrated me, disciplined me and helped me. Well, I’ve known this cycle exists—I just never have thought about it in terms of one of those rhythms that is integral to what I do.

Probably every profession has a similar rhythm that is party to its unique essentiality—but this is the rhythm with which I am most familiar. Let’s look at it for a moment; let’s think of it as a way of “dancing with books.”

•  First, someone comes up with what they hope is a great idea.

•  Second, a proposal is ventured.

•  Some publishing committee looks over the proposal and decides if this is a good project to print.

•  The author is notified.

•  If the green light is given, the author begins to gather more ideas, to organize the patterns of this book for its future published life.

•  Creative ennui comes calling. (It’s a really big project and hard to start!)

•  The editor phones, sends an e-mail, writes a note: “How’s the book going?”

•  Time to get serious: now the hard work begins. (Would hate to have to return the advance; it’s spent already.)

•  Writing and rewriting—two chapters, four chapters—oh, halfway there. (Why did I ever start this? When will it be over?)

•  Finally, the manuscript is done and sent in with pride in accomplishment.

•  Agonizing silence from the publishing end. (Maybe a postcard that says, “Manuscript in house. Will be in touch.”)

•  That dreaded bibliography still needs doing.

•  Revision: oh, agony. More work!

•  Finally, the revisions are completed. A CD is sent or an attachment via e-mail.

•  Waiting during the copyeditor’s interim.

•  Finally! Cover designs and back copy to check, pages from the copy editor, editorial proofs (bluelines; hopefully with no changes).

•  Then months of silence.

•  At last! A box or package lands at your door. There it is!

•  The book.

This is a sophisticated rhythm that happens almost identically (with a few variations) every time I put a book out into the world. Indeed, at every point of the “book waltz,” I find I am dependent upon God to help me step in time to the project well. All work routines can be transformed into rhythms; that is part of what I mean by “dancing with God.”

Why not try to list the rhythms in your life? Is there a rhythm in the seasons (not just the passing of days but the celebrations, work habits, and activities of the seasons)? Are there rhythms in your family gatherings? Do you know how routines can be transformed by God? What steps can you take to make that happen?

Karen Mains
KM1-22

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

I had no idea that the colorful foliage on the poinsettia plants is not the flowering part of the plant. They are actually leaves that start out green, turn color, then change back to green again.

Did you know this?

My husband, David, surprised me one year by taking me to a poinsettia show sponsored by a nearby greenhouse at the Cantigny Gardens. Though I order poinsettias every year, I was amazed by what I didn’t know about them!

First, there was the fact that what I thought were the flowers were really the leaves, called bracts. Then, there was the bit of information that the true flowers are the little berries in the middle of the bracts, called cyathia. We were taught not to buy poinsettias when the cyathia has begun to bloom (sprouting little yellow flowers). I had never, ever, checked the little yellow buds for over-ripe maturity.

Poinsettias originated in Mexico and were discovered by Joel Poinsett, a Southern plantation owner appointed in the late 1820s as the first United States Ambassador to our border neighbor. But it was a community of Franciscan priests, settled near Taxco in the 17th century, who found the bright red plants blooming naturally on the slopes during the season of Advent in December. They used it to adorn their Nativity celebrations.

What fascinated me most in our informal lecture was the rhythm of growth native to these lovely plants. (These series of blogs are considering the rhythms that occur naturally in our living and in our spiritual experience—and how “out of step” most of us feel, disconnected from any kind of natural rhythms). The colorful bracts resort back to green in late winter, are severely pruned, planted outside when the temperatures are above 65 degrees at night, watered thoroughly (they are thirsty plants), then repotted in early summer, pinched to make them bush-like, cultivated with nutrients, and the bracts begin to turn color again in late October or early November. This growth cycle occurs year after year.

Have you been thinking about natural (and sacred) rhythms?

This rhythm of the life-cycle of the poinsettia is one that I put on my collector’s list. The Cantigny greenhouse was lush with rows of color, deep crimson plants with variegated leaves, salmon poinsettias, whites, new hybrids—it was a glorious display. Yet, more remarkable to me was the fact that they were all living according to some divine dance God had built within their genetic structure.

What a marvelous thing is this gift of life we have been given!

Are you one of the many who feels like you can’t get your life into any kind of lasting rhythm?

Think about a green poinsettia. Have you ever seen one? Step into a greenhouse sometime this season and look at the rows and rows of poinsettia colors.

“God has made everything beautiful for its own time” (Ecclesiastes 4:11a). I believe that the internal structure of creation, the very microcosm of it, is a mirror of the whole of life, of a way of living God intends for His creatures—humans as well as vegetable. What are we missing? How are we misusing this natural order, particularly if we don’t know anymore that it exists? What can be done?


Karen Mains
KM1-21

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

We’ve been traveling a lot this year: France with a group of 16 “pilgrims” in October/November 2008; Hot Springs, Arkansas for a Christmas week just with my husband and myself; Phoenix in February 2009 for a working trip with my eldest son and a visit with the “Phoenix” grandkids; three weeks in Kenya in March 2009 for filming regarding the Global Bag Project; two weeks cruising up the Eastern Seaboard and down the New England Coast with grandkids; a week at our annual Shakespeare Festival in Ontario, Canada with 22 friends who are theatre aficionados; a week in the British Virgin Islands as guests of our son-in-law’s parents; then David (without me—thank God) taking off for Kenya for more filming!

I keep hearing myself saying, “I’m not home long enough to get into any rhythm.” This morning, while talk with my adult daughter on the phone, she said exactly the same thing, “I keep getting interrupted so frequently, I can’t strike a rhythm.

It seems to me that, without knowing it, many of us are trying establish some kind of cycling regularity in our days, our weeks, our months, even in our years. We need this outward harmony in order to protect and nurture an inward harmony.

Intriguingly, Christianity is really built on establishing these kinds of rhythms—I time, in daily living, in devotional life, in our worship and friendship. There is a kind of sacred dance available for all of us who feel “out-of-step” in this disjointed world with its scary multitasking responsibilities. Many of my friends, sincere Christian women, comment on this in our Hungry Souls Listening Groups. They say, “I can’t catch my breath, I’m so busy.” “The world (the pace, the schedules) are moving so fast.” “The demands are so daunting.” They are expressing this feeling of not being able to get back into some kind of rhythm.

So let’s examine the “dance” that is life and see if we can discover any ways to be more “in step” with it. Let’s begin with reading Scripture. Many of us fail in keeping a rhythm regarding this primary tool that grows our Christian lives.

One book that has revolutionized my approach to prayer integrated with Scripture is The Word Is Very Near You: A Guide to Praying With Scripture by Martin L. Smith. I highly recommend it. Let me begin “dance classes” with two quotes taken from the book.

“It is one thing to say that prayer is a conversation with God. It is another thing to say that God begins the conversation. But it is yet something else to say that God is a conversation. … Our prayer is not making conversation with God. It is joining the conversation that is already going on in God. It is being invited to participate in the relationships of intimacy between father, Son and Holy Spirit. There is an eternal dance already in full swing, and we are caught up in to it. Prayer is allowing ourselves to join the dance and experience the movements, the constant interplay of the Persons of the Trinity.”

“In what follows we shall concentrate on the single issue of incorporating into our lives a rhythm of meditative prayer. I find the word ‘rhythm’ attractive. For some people the word ‘discipline’ has overtones of unyielding regulation and stern subjection of spontaneity, but rhythm belongs to all organic life. Without rhythm there is no beauty; without rhythm there is chaos. Unless we take responsibility for the patterning of our lives others will dictate to us how to live. In spiritual life we are not striving to subject our lives to a rigid scheme. We are seeking to find those rhythms and patterns which allow each aspect of ourselves to have its rightful place in life and its proper share of our energy. It is absurd to pretend that in the chaos of our secular environments and under the schedules imposed by our work and responsibilities this quest for balance and rhythm can be anything other than a very demanding one.”

NOW, TRY TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION:

Am I stepping in time to God’s sacred rhythms?

My prayers for you are that you will begin to dance! I pray that we will all “get back our rhythm.”


Karen Mains
KM1-20

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Temperamentally, I am a woman who is always filled with longing. I suppose because of my background in the conservative church, I might have absorbed some kind of unexamined lore that a Christian woman should be content, satisfied in her spiritual journey and not filled with dissonance of any kind. That would be nice, but it is not who I am.

The longing that haunts me and has always haunted me is not for things or for material possessions; it is for harmony, order and beauty. And because, in so much of my life, I am not able to create harmony, order and beauty, I have to carefully watch that my soul doesn’t begin to paddle around in puddles of sour frustration.

For me, this has been a kind of curse. And I do not want to be like one of the female characters in the movie Enchanted April who was described by her puzzled husband as an eternally “disappointed Madonna.”

In his book The Holy Longing, Ronald Rolheiser says that “spirituality concerns what we do with desire.” Now that is something to think about—spirituality concerns what we do with desire…

So, what do I do with this disconsolate subtext that has always been so much a part of my interior makeup? Would I attempt to create harmony, order and beauty—in my home, in my office, in my writing, and in my human relationships—if I didn’t have a longing for them. Perhaps this is a longing God has given to me—this uncomfortable dissatisfaction. Perhaps it is the ones who long for a better world who work to create a better world. Perhaps good Christian women are not so content after all, but should be people who do something with their discontent. Perhaps this longing is a faint primal memory of some sort—a memory of when things were perfect, when there was harmony, order, and beauty in the world. Perhaps there is a genetic knowing of Eden, Paradise that was and a DNA premonition of what will be, Heaven, Paradise to come. Perhaps my particular spirituality needs to leverage this unsatisfied longing. Perhaps I need to be grateful that I am a woman who has learned to live with this unsatisfied desire.

It is an enormous comfort, consequently, for me to know that my unfulfilled longings will one day be at rest in a place, Paradise, where everything is finally as it should be.

But for now, every time longing for harmony, for order, and for beauty rises in my soul, I attempt to turn it to that One in whom all longings are eventually satisfied. Christ is the originator of harmony, of order, and of all things beautiful. “Let me give you this longing,” I pray, “this unfulfilled hope. Turn my dissatisfaction into desire for You.”

In the meantime, I’ll attempt to turn this longing into something useful.


Karen Mains
KM1-19

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

“You have some of the best blood work I’ve seen,” said my physician, looking over the results of my tests. “Uh, what about my cholesterol levels?” I inquired—my family has a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol counts—the bad kind of cholesterol. “Well, it’s not here,” she answered, scanning the computer printouts. “That’s crazy. I’ll have to call the lab and get them to send the rest of the results.”

Sure enough, the next session with my doctor was not so positive. My cholesterol count was high, very high—329 points. “I’m putting you on a special diet, and if that doesn’t have immediate results, we’ll have to go the medication route.” (“A walking heart attack waiting to happen!” was my daughter’s encouraging spin on the problem.)

So right now I am watching everything I eat. No sugar—in anything. Sugar pumps insulin into the bloodstream and that produces cholesterol. Ironically, I am following the exact precautionary diet that my daughter-in-law who is diabetic follows. And the truth is, right now, my diet is a matter of life and death. I have to keep reminding myself: If nothing remedies quickly, I am a walking heart attack (or stroke) waiting to happen.

For the last seven years, I have been working with a super group of Christian women in developing spiritual-growth tools that actually work in everyday lives in modern contexts. The name of this ministry is Hungry Souls. We’ve discovered that the same principle for watching our diet that works on the physical level also works on the spiritual plane. What we consume, what we take in affects our spiritual health. The questions Christian women need to ask themselves is: What on earth am I eating? Am I chewing on Scripture and swallowing it so my soul can absorb its nutrients? Am I partaking of Christ, the Bread of Life?

I find that watching my physical diet works best when I am intentional about what I put into my mouth. For me, that means giving some thought to my eating each morning. It is dangerous for me to just grab stuff. I have to stop and think, What am I going to have for breakfast that is healthy for me? What am I going to take to work? What snacks are appropriate? What do I need to avoid? I am also learning to remember to pray before I put anything into my mouth, “Lord, is this going to be good for my body?”

Eating spiritually needs the same kind of intentionality. What I am eating today that will nourish my soul? What do I need to avoid?  Feeding well starts at the beginning of each day by asking myself, “What will be good for my soul today?” Then I need to end each day with a similar question, “What did I take in that was harmful for my soul?”

What we eat spiritually is also a matter of life and death. Here’s to a healthy diet!

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour … for he has filled the hungry with good things.” Luke 1:46-47,53a.


Karen Mains
KM1-18

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Is there anything harder to do than to leave home?

Oh, I don’t mean those life-passages that are monumental transitions—going to camp for the summer, leaving for college, moving one’s address to the first rented apartment, following a job across the country, etc.

I mean those more simple departures—getting ready to take off for a family vacation or relocating to the summer home, traveling overseas, or even going to church Sunday after Sunday. Something weird happens in many people’s psyches—nerves get jangled; we think of all the things we haven’t done, and try to get them ALL completed in the week before we travel, or the hours before we are due at worship.

It has taken me many years to learn the art of leaving home. If I’m traveling, either for several days or several months, I really don’t want to come home to a filthy, disorganized house, so I will try to leave it the way I want to find it. Moving four kids, as I often did, through a packing process for a trip will turn any saint into a harridan—and I was never very saintly to begin with. What’s more, most of my travel involved Christian trips. I was traveling on the Christian speaker’s circuit, taking airplane flights because of assignments for religious journals, teaching in small spiritual retreats, or attending board meetings of national not-for-profit religious organizations.

It seems as though my leave-taking should have been a little more filled with equanimity, repose and serenity. In addition, I always forgot something—a crucial hairbrush, toothpaste, a half-slip—which I rarely wear these days, but then, I rarely stand on a platform any more, in a circle of revealing lights in front of hundreds if not thousands of people.

Well—pre-preparation is the key. Instead of rising at 3 a.m. and stuffing clothes into the washer and dryer, and packing my clothes, frantic about not being ready in time, I have one small suitcase with my toiletries always ready to go. I use it as I’m getting dressed the day I travel, and I make sure everything is in it that I need because I’ve checked it out that morning. Now, when I return home, I make a list of what I’ve used up, put the sticky note on the bathroom mirror, and don’t store that suitcase until I’ve purchased the missing items. A Nigerian saying reminds us, “The day on which one starts out is not the time to start one’s preparation.”

For long complicated trips where I will be crossing time and climate zones, dressing formally and informally, I put out a suitcase at least a week before I go, try on clothes I may want to take, make as many of the same color combinations as possible, put out the jewelry and accessories that go with each outfit, try to eliminate two or three outfits that I think I might need but probably won’t. I have one friend, a consummate world-traveler, who only takes two pair of shoes—the shoes she wears to travel and another pair for a change. Her clothes are all one color, and she never packs more than one purse.

I have yet to reach her exemplary model, but I am adhering to my rule about suitcases: If you can’t carry (drag, hoist or haul) it yourself, it’s too big. Get something smaller. One medium-sized suitcase, one smaller bag, one purse and a satchel is the absolute limit (oh well, I might carry a coat on my arm—depending on the temperatures where I am journeying). The airlines with their carry-on fees, of course, are screwing up this hard-won plan, so I am working on discovering alternate suitcase systems.

“The venerable tradition of traveling with one satchel or bag symbolizes the fundamental philosophy of pilgrimage: Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!” Phil Cousineau writes in The Art of the Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred. I am not here yet; I would like to be.

Cousineau recommends (as do many other writers) that we consider every journey, every home-leaving, no matter how short (trip to the grocery store, doctor’s appointment, or a daily run) as a potential pilgrimage. One family tells how they take a half-hour to “sit on their suitcases” before departure. This calms them; they remember what they have forgotten. More importantly, they remember what they are journeying for, the purpose of the trip ahead. How many times have I rushed out of my house only to have to return for something crucial I’ve neglected to bring.

Alexander Schmemann, the Russian Orthodox priest, reminds parishioners that Sunday worship begins before they leave their houses. So do the little and big pilgrimages of our lives. The biggest aid in an equitable home-leaving is an inner attitude. Mother Teresa once remarked, “Pray before you do anything.” Journeys, large and small, are made fruitful when we pray ourselves into the way. I pray (when I remember—haste, again, is the enemy) for safety, for caution, for attention, for receptivity. You do not know who you will meet, what you will find, where you will end your journey—even if it is just out the back door (or going to church). Louis Pasteur once commented on this quality of being ready, “In the field of science, chance favors the prepared mind.”

How many times I have whizzed past something intriguing discarded in someone’s else’s garbage, a street festival, or a beckoning road and thought, Oh, I wish I had stopped there.

Leaving home for those journeys where you will certainly return—doing this well is an acquired habit, a learned art. The author Martin Palmer writes, “True pilgrimage changes lives, whether we go halfway around the world, or out to our own backyard.” Let us learn to leave home well.


Karen Mains
KM1-17

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

This year has been filled with travel. In October of 2008, we took 16 friends to Paris for a Christian trip with the theme: God Through the Eyes of the Artist (and the Artist in the Eye of God). Because the Mainses’ extended family only gathers together every other year for Christmas, my husband David and I took a trip for the Christmas week to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

In March, we flew to Kenya with a stopover in London so my son-in-law, a video producer, could visit this city he had never seen. The rest of the time in Africa, we worked together filming a microcredit startup, the Global Bag Project, our ministry is launching in which sustainable income is provided for bag-makers from selling reusable shopping bags.

Throw in a trip to Phoenix where our eldest son and three of our grandchildren live, a cruise up the St. Lawrence Seaway with a couple of grandkids ending in a week’s stay on Cape Cod and an American history tour in Boston, and our annual tour to the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, ON, and we’ve just sliced the tip off the iceberg as far as our travel plans are concerned.

Because I truly believe a person cannot be educated unless he/she travels; because in a globalizing world, we need to understand that there are different ideas, different ways of knowing and processing those ideas, and that travel that creates dialogue, that challenges our preconceptions is not just a pleasure but utterly necessary for world peace, I am amazed to discover that only 20% of Americans have passports (well, 22% now because of the recent Canadian and Mexican border document requirements).
 
Granted, the States are beautiful, our country is large and there is plenty to see here (I would have moved to Cape Cod in an instant had it been feasible), but it is the world pressing in on us that we need to work to understand.

Early on, when our adult offspring were kids growing up under our roof, their father and I decided that if there was a choice between purchasing things and buying experiences (with our meager ministry salaries), we would choose experiences.

So off they went to Peru with their aunt and uncle, who were taking a church youth group to South America. They camped through Spain, took summer college courses in Europe, taught English as a second language in China, and roamed the continents with their parents, whose curiosity for travel has never abated, even though we are aging and really don’t know how long we are going to be able to keep up with all this transiting around the world. Now we travel with the grandchildren: France with one, Scotland with another. I want them to see and not be afraid of the unusual, the unexpected, the exotic or the remarkable. I want their memories to be filled with places and journeys and bumps in the road and detours and all the stories travelers tell to one another—“When we were in Alaca, Spain…”

I have rarely been in a place I didn’t think was beautiful, or the people fascinating, the architecture amazing or the history absorbing. My life, my thinking, my wealth of being have all been enriched by journeys, friends who joined us on Christian trips, conversations with folk who were of other faiths, seeing Israel without importing my Christianity into it; meeting with refugees on five continents and writing about their courage and their despair; being hosted by ambassadors, one Queen and King, relief and development workers, and U.S. Embassy staff. Right now, my nations-visited total is 66. I am at the point of live where I think, So many countries, so little time.

I have discovered that every journey can be a sacred pilgrimage. Phil Cousineau writes in The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred, “Common to all pilgrims was the sense of awakened wonder. The long and wearing way carried them through strange lands filled with stranger people, which allowed them to experience
the wider world—probably for the first and only time in their lives. The pilgrim’s constant sense of surprise and astonishment at the ever-changing scenery, weather, and habits of others were as influential as the perils they had to overcome.”

So, I ask you the question I frequently ask of my own adult children: “Is your passport up to date?”


Karen Mains
KM1-16
keywords: Christian vacation

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Two of our “Phoenix” grandchildren have been visiting us for the last month. My husband (Papa to that generation) put them on a Southwest Airlines flight two nights ago. First, we traveled for two weeks on a historical tour out east—Plymouth Plantation, Plymouth Rock, Lexington Commons, the Concord bridge, and the Freedom Trail in Boston.

Because their cousins are visiting, all our other grandchildren gather in different sets at different times. Those who are old enough attempt to beat Papa in the traditional miniature-golf tournament.  We have “cooking classes’ for meals. The two then make a circuit of staying for a few days in their cousins’ homes.

The “Phoenix” grandchildren were ready to go home although we all agreed it had been a really great four weeks. My husband, David, said to me this morning, “You must have spent a lot of time cleaning.” I hadn’t—well, I vacuumed the living room and straightened the downstairs study where the children’s suitcases had been stored. The “cleanliness” was simply due to the fact that two bodies (and all their things, cell phones and games and garments) were no longer cluttering our downstairs.

Practicing hospitality with children is an art unto itself.  This short story, quoted from my book Open Heart Open Home, tells how I began to learn that art.


The mud marks traced the path of little feet that had swaggered boldly across the gold carpet, marched around the freshly washed kitchen tile, meandered down the hall, stopped at the bathroom sink—then ended in scattered clods of earth on the porch and down the front steps. It all must have happened in the space of my quick dash to a “borrowing neighbor.”

“Joel! Jo-el Da-vid!” I called! My mother-mind had quickly assessed to which culprit the mud marks belonged: the great house despoiler, Joel David Mains. Two small figures came bounding joyously from the back yard, their snowsuits plastered with mud—my son and his pal Georgie. Georgie was five, but in stature he was eight, causing him to lope and stumble like an adolescent puppy.

“What have you been doing?” I demanded.

“Playing in the backyard,” came the reply.

“No! No! What have you been doing in my house? There’s mud from front to back!” I cried.

Innocently both boys checked their boots. All four were huge clods of clay properly cemented to moldering fall leaves.

“It was Georgie,” maintained the ever-loyal Joel. “It was Joel,” countered Georgie, a little slower on the draw.

Obviously chagrined by a mother who would make so much over such a minor incident, Joel volunteered more information. “Georgie/just/wanted/a/glass/of/water.” Each word was pronounced in a separate, distinct tone, in a manner reserved for communication with the deaf, the infirm, or the half-witted.

“Well,” I replied, also being deliberately distinct, “the next time Georgie wants a glass of water, tell him to/get/it/in/his/own/house.” And having the last word, I dismissed them.

Within minutes, aided by a wet rag and vacuum, I erased the telltale evidences. Glancing at the clock I discovered that two lovely hours remained before the older children arrived home from school. Grabbing my Bible, I crept past the baby’s door listening for the reassuring pattern of his breathing, then on to my very own place—a seat beneath the big window where I could see the sky, blue or gray. A little hurriedly I whispered, “Here I am again, Lord. It’s Karen. What have you to teach me today?”

Opening the Scripture, I continued my synoptic study of the Gospels (comparing each Gospel writer’s version of the same story). Certain vibrant phrases stood out. “If, as my representatives, you give even a cup of cold water to a little child, you will surely be rewarded” (Matthew 10:42, TLB) and “Anyone who takes care of a little child like this is caring for me! … Your care for others is your measure of your greatness” (Luke 9:48, TLB).

Shame flooded me. Georgie just wanted a glass of water. I bowed my heart and prayed, “Father, forgive me for caring more for clean floors and tidy schedules than for two little boys.”

Suddenly I remembered a voice from the past—Linda’s, as she leaned across the high-school lunch table. “Does your mother always sing around the house like that—like I heard her singing when we were talking on the phone yesterday?” When I answered that she did, Linda looked at me and said, “You’re so lucky!”

The world is full of Georgies just wanting a drink of water and of Lindas wishing they had mothers who sang in the kitchen. Many of them are our children’s friends. We really have no choice—we know the one who is the Living Water, this same who creates new songs in our hearts—we have no choice but to open our homes and our lives to those who may leave their telltale marks.

HOSPITALITY BEGINS AT HOME

Why is it always easier to extend the courtesies of hospitality to those outside our immediate families? Husbands, relatives, children, or—strangely enough—their friends often receive short shrift of our kind attention. This point was forcibly brought home to me by my daughter, who cleverly exclaimed before a roomful of guests, “Mommy, why aren’t you this nice to us when people aren’t here?”

Hospitality like charity, in order to be true, has to begin at home. The Lord has humiliated me enough through the comments of my own children that I have been forced to examine my attitudes toward them. Did it count, this gracious open-house business, if I acted like a hellion the hour before company arrived? Wasn’t there something hypocritical about receiving laurels for my church work if my own children’s friends were neglected? Wasn’t there a glaring inconsistency if I really treated my own children differently when outsiders were around? Through the years I had come to an understanding of the use of hospitality as a gift of the Holy Spirit for ministry. But was I really ministering to my own?

A woman can’t be perfect in everything, can she? Yet telltale marks had been imprinted on my own heart by the timely reading of the Scriptures: If you give even a cup of cold water to a little child … anyone who takes care of a little child is caring for God who sent me.


Karen Mains
KM1-15

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

In a previous post i defined “openhomeaphobia.” I can attest that the following 20 remedies, if applied, are a sure cure.

1.    No matter what, always warmly greet people at the door.

2.    NEVER apologize for the condition of your house.

3.    If you are insecure with hospitality, be as SIMPLE as possible. Do coffee and dessert. Hold a pie party and have the bakers in the group bring the pies. Serve baked potatoes with toppings and a salad. Have a soup-pantry supper; serve from pans off the stove.

4.    Hold a potluck. Have everyone who comes bring something.

5.    Plan a leftovers party. Have guests share their leftovers and add them to yours. Ask, “What’s in the refrigerator? This is what’s in mine.”

6.    ALWAYS accept people’s offer to help.

7.    Never do an in-depth cleaning before people come. Just pick up, light candles, put out flowers. Clean after they go!

8.    Bring people home after church. Let them set the table. Serve pancakes. Serve french toast. Serve waffles.

9.    Extend hospitality as a team. Team with your husband. Team with your housemate. Team with friends. Team with church members.

10.    Pray before you invite anyone to your home. Ask God to provide the guest list. Invite Christ to be the Premier Guest. Prepare as though Christ was coming; treat everyone as though he/she was Christ.

11.    Develop a list of standard conversational questions to rely on. Think about each guest before he/she comes. Try to decide upon one thing you really want to know about him/her.

12.    Include some element of silliness, like holding an evening when everyone brings one funny story to tell. Or, eat the meal backwards, begin with dessert.

13.    Hold a “craving potluck.” Everyone brings something he/she really craves. Do this without preplanning.

14.    Organize a work-together exchange: “We’ll help you with this home project if you’ll help us with this home project.”

15.    When children are invited, build some part of the event around them. Then everyone participates in the activities. Everyone plays musical chairs. Everyone dances (even with the toddler) around the player piano.

16.    Do things for the purpose of healing and welcoming, not to impress. What kind of background music will soothe people after a busy day, a busy week? What is something nice you can put on the table for a centerpiece?

17.     Figure out some follow-up. Most likely, people will not write thank you notes. Can you call and tell them how much you enjoyed their being in your home? Can you write a note?

18.    Make SURE everyone is introduced. Don’t assume people know one another. This can be done informally, but in larger groups it is better to have everyone tell his/her name and one thing about themselves.

19.    Declare the purpose of the evening; “We invited you tonight so you could have an opportunity to get to know one another better.”

20.    It is perfectly appropriate to set time limits. Invite people for dinner from 6:30 to 10:30. You can say (as you stand), “Well this has been a wonderful evening (afternoon, breakfast) but many of you have busy schedules tomorrow, as do we, so we don’t want to go late, but we want to tell you before you leave how much we have loved having you all in our home.”

Try any of these. Let me know about your “openhomeaphobia” cures. Respond in the comments section that follows.


Karen Mains
KM1-13

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

We have invited some 20 internationals over to celebrate an “American Fourth of July” picnic. The work of all this is being shared with some neighbors, Bruce and Judy Duncan.  I am bringing some of the food. The Duncans are opening their large and welcoming house. My husband is doing the inviting because he is the one who is cultivates friendships with tellers at the bank, with gas station and UPS store managers, and with our Korean cleaning folk. He learns names, countries of birth and creates daily friendships with each one.

Today, as we were picking up senior coffees from McDonald’s, we drove past the pay window. David laughed and said, “Oh, this is my favorite person at McDonald’s—Norita. Norita also works at the other McDonald’s in town.” During this explanation, Norita was occupied with taking another drive-up order and counting out our change. Nevertheless, she warmed immediately and flashed my husband a great big smile.

“Papa, everyone knows you,” said our grandson, Nathanael, who was running errands with his grandfather. They had walked into the bank and someone had called out, “Hi! Dr. Mains!”

“Don’t you know a lot of people like that?” David asked Nathanael. Our grandson said that he didn’t. His grandfather’s response: “Then, Nathanael, you’re not being friendly enough. People are all around us.”

So, Sandip and his family from India; Marie and her son from Mexico; Rahila, who is from Kenya with her husband, an African-American; David and Cecilia from Nigeria—20 of us in all—will be mixing the varied experiences of our birth nationalities to celebrate what is a uniquely American experience—the Fourth of July. We are, apart from the Indian Nations, a country of immigrants.

Through the years these are some of the things we have learned about the first-generation immigrants among us:

•    Amazingly, most of them have never been invited into an American home.

•    They are puzzled by the apparent insincerity of American greetings, such as “How are you?” In most of the countries from which these people come, that inquiry, which is casual to us, instead invites sincere information. “How are you? How is your mother? How is your father? Are your children doing well?” People stop and talk—they don’t hurry by each other, driven by intractable daily schedules.

•    Many Americans say, “We’ll have to get together sometime—” but never do. Hopes for social connection are raised but never met.

•    Meals for internationals are considered “events” with lots of food spread on large tables, hours spent with each other, a community of people invited who laugh, tell stories, dialogue and specialize in enjoying the occasion. Many internationals are puzzled, if not offended, by the American custom of eating and running.

The book of Romans, written when hospitality was a sacred act, understood to be so across most cultures at the time,  says this: “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you for the glory of God.” Romans 15:7, RSV.

It is interesting to me that in the New International Version, this is also translated, “Accept one another, then just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” In the New King James Version, the same verse reads, “Therefore, receive one another, just as Christ also received us, to the glory of God.”

Welcome, accept, receive—these are the essential attitudes we must have if we are to practice Christian hospitality.

Henri Nouwen writes in Reaching Out, “Hospitality, therefore, means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become friend instead of enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. … The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create emptiness, not a fearful emptiness, but a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free, free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances, free also to leave and follow their own vocations. Hospitality is not a subtle invitation to adopt the life style of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own.” What an appropriate prescription for extending hospitality to internationals.

So. Sandip, Mari, Rahila, Cecelia and David (and their families) are joining with the Mainses and the Duncans to share a quintessential American celebration—an Independence Day backyard picnic. This also seems to me to be a quintessential act of hospitality in which welcome, acceptance and reception are being extended to people of different nations. What a joyful event to look forward to!

Happy Fourth of July!


Karen Mains
KM1-14

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.