Liminal

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A Change of Seasons

/ Loretta Goddard / Leave a comment

Summer’s End

Sometimes summer seems like a sandwich between the bread slices of Memorial and Labor days; between last day of school and first day of school; between peonies and mums.  It’s the liminal space of spontaneous play set amid long scheduled work periods.  It’s a time for rest, but also a time of extra season-dependent work: tilling, planting, harvesting, mowing, painting, repairing.  It’s time for vacation.  A time to “vacate”… evacuate.  And a time to host those evacuating towards you—a time for hospitality.  It’s graduations, family reunions, anniversaries and weddings.

We participated in all the above this summer.  It began with our daughter Julianne’s graduation from her PhD program.  Then had a long visit to see our daughter Sarah, and son-in-law, my sister, niece, and her husband in Oregon.  We had spontaneous play with grandkids and family around a new backyard swimming pool and old trampoline.  We traveled for a family reunion cojoined with my mother’s 90th birthday celebration. We went to a rodeo and had some restful, lazy weeks at the beach.  We had multiple occasions of guests stopping by for brief visits as they passed through the Wilmore area.  We had a semblance of a garden…. ragged at the edges, but with some produce.  I power-washed, painted a little, re-did my chicken run, and installed a solar door on the coop. We enjoyed early morning foggy sunrises, late evening colorful sunsets and wild, windy thunderstorms in between.  We had campfires with s’mores and a bit of tent camping.  We held a Grandma and Papa Summer Bible Camp with our two grandchildren, Hazel and Jude, and had a little funeral ceremony and burial for their pet bird. I had glorious days of mowing the paths through the emerging flowering woods and fields—from spring’s Trillium and Larkspur to summer’s Yarrow to Queen Anne’s Lace to Purple Coneflowers and Black-Eyed Susans to Partridge Peas and Ironweed.  I now await the Goldenrod then Frost Flowers of the next seasons.

We also celebrated our 48th wedding anniversary this summer.  It’s easy to let the unstructured doings of the season take away a time to soak in…to consider…to remember and learn and reflect.  On our anniversary I sat down to journal.  Marriage is also a passing of seasons:  the Spring of dating and wedding; the Summer of setting up home and career, and for some, parenting little ones; the Fall of empty nesting and reworking a new rhythm; and, if we are fortunate enough to both reach it together, the winter of deep, quiet love and friendship, and helping one another through to the end.  Today, going through my journal to remember what this season held before I pass on to the next season, I came across what I wrote.  Below I share it with you.

 

Hule & Loretta June 1978

To My 18-year-old Self[i] and to Anybody Else Who Might Listen

Love your spouse well—second only to loving God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Your spouse will be your closest “neighbor”.

Work to respect, honor, and cherish your spouse above all other human beings or beasts.

Love your spouse more than your things, more than your work more than your friends.  Love as you love your own self.

Bring your best self, your most patient and gracious self, your most creative and giving self, your “A Game”, to the home, to your marriage, to your spouse.

Listen to your spouse always and let them listen to your deep heart.  Look one another in the eyes.  Put your phone, book, computer, remote down.  Let it soak in and let it change your ways and your being.

Identify 10 or more things that delight your spouse and do at least one of these daily.  Let your reward be to see their delight.

Success begins at home—not at the office, not among other friends, not in your possessions or fame.

Bring joy and foster fun with your spouse.

Say “I’m sorry” freely, ask for forgiveness, then change your ways.

Forgive quickly and completely.

Be trustworthy.  Don’t lie or deceive.  Be careful with your words.  Do what you say you will do, no reminders needed. Take responsibility.

If, or more likely, when there is difficulty in your marriage, be humble enough, pro-active enough, to get outside counsel, help.  Hurry to it.  Don’t put it off.

Remember your wedding vows.

“Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety.” Prov. 11-14 KJV

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:36-40 NIV

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13

“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.  This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you must love his wife as he loves himself and the wife must respect her husband.” Eph.5:31-33 NIV

“I am my beloved’s and his desire is for me.” Song of Solomon 7:10


“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

A time to be born and a time to die,

A time to kill and a time to heal,

A time to tear down and a time to build,

A time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and a time to dance,

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

A time to search and a time to give up,

A time to keep and a time to throw away,

A time to tear and a time to mend,

A time to be silent and a time to speak,

A time to love and a time to hate,

A time for war and a time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NIV

 

Now comes a time to live up to my own advice….

Hoping all your transitions into the coming season will be graceful!

Loretta

[i] Yes, I was 18 when I married but had already been to 2 full years of college away from home.  Hule was a month away from 23.

My new book

/ Loretta Goddard / Leave a comment

September is the month of both my mother and father’s birthdays. I honor them with the announcement of the publication of a book I wrote about a chapter in our family’s life: My Fading Father: An End of Life journey.

Dad walking me down the aisle

This is the story of how our family lived together with Dad in his last years and our final earthly goodbye. It was compiled from diaries I wrote during this season. It is a book for all of us — caregivers, care receivers, grievers— all of us who will face our decline and death, or that of a loved one. So, the story is for everybody. Dad’s end of life journey came with cognitive decline, likely Alzheimer’s, and that presented a special challenge and opportunity for us.

Dad and I at Plasters Grove cemetery where he was laid to rest

If you know of anyone who might benefit from a book like this, please let them know about it. If you would like to order it, it is available on Amazon. https://a.co/d/7BkDQ4R

Love you, Mom & Dad….

We miss you, Dad!

https://a.co/d/df5Hs0O

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Childbirth

/ Loretta Goddard / 2 Comments

I find myself praying today for a friend’s imminent childbirth. Giving birth is such a thin place, where we join in creation and fall simultaneously. It’s a miraculous space: liminal—in-between. The father, mother, and child, pass through a limen—a doorway—from unknown to known and from known to unknown. There is a change in “I am-ness” to each participant—even for every sibling and every grandparent.

When my first grandchild was born, I stood at the head of the bed and experienced the miracle unfolding. I saw my dear daughter rock in pain with contractions and reach in joy for her new writhing, crying, little human-gift. I observed the furrowed brow, outstretched hand, and deep concern of my son-in-law at bedside; then the outrageous excitement of seeing the emergence from dark to light of his firstborn, Hazel—with a holy hush followed by one last push.

When my second grandchild, Julian, was born, I stayed at home with Hazel. It was a different kind of vigil—from far away. It was hard not being present and I was grateful to God and His sure presence with me and with my daughter simultaneously, and His constant bent-ear, listening for our intercessions and supplications. I wrestled with the thought that my daughter would need to struggle with pain, maybe blood, and difficulty for this birth, and I recalled the reason that the Bible gives to aid in answering all, no, most, of my questions.

The night before Julian’s entrance, I birthed the following thoughts. I pray they might help you or your loved one in grappling with, and entering past the veil into, this angel-filled, Trinity-immersed, Cloud of unknowing which we encounter at the emergence of every new life…if we have eyes to see.

Julian’s Exodus

And now

As we turn toward this event

This liminal passage—

A new life liminal passage—

We remember that You Lord, are a Parent

A Father and “Mother” to a boy, Adam and girl, Eve

Formed long ago in the womb of your garden,

“born” into your household.

And even before that

(really not before, but always)

Your only Son—begotten, not made—of one Being with You.

 

But there came a fall—

Jack and Jill tumbled

And pain in childbirth came,

Not the original plan,

But a consequence.

 

So now we embark on a new in-between space

One that, despite our knowledge and advancements, will likely bring some

Pain

Squeezing

Peril

Need

Perhaps groaning.

 

“Like the pains of childbirth,” we often say:

A groaning of earth in an Eve-like form.

 

We come here through remembering also that you overshadowed blessed Mary—

Dripping in Eve-ness—

To bring hope and healing

To bring back full joy and to ease the pain of Eden’s losses.

 

And with your Husband eyes[i]

And Father eyes

And Maternal eyes[ii]

You oversaw it all:

The angelic visitation,

The miraculous implantation,

The weaving together of God and man

Who would be Adam 2

Adam Jr.

Who would be Your precious, deeply-loved Son.

 

You watched the journey,

The uprooting,

The placenta pulling away

In the birthing room

That was a stable.

You sent shepherds and wise men for the baby shower.

You watched as the wet, crying and cooing boy emerged from the nine-month hiddenness.

You sent angels to say,

“Do not be afraid!”

You said, “My peace I give to you.”

And, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”

 

 

And so we pray to You—

Who are a Father

And a Son

And have a maternal heart

And are a great Physician

And a Summoner of angels.

 

We look to You

To bring the Light –Da la Luz!

Of Your presence

Your face

Your touch

Your attention.

 

We ask for safety for all during labor and journey through the underwater tangles, the unknown, the Red Sea’s partings, little Julian’s exodus into this world.

 

We look to You.

We trust in Your great love,

In Your deep knowing—conocimiento—that is owned by a Parent’s heart and soul and body.

 

In Your Son Jesus’, name,

Amen

[i] Jesus is the bridegroom and the church is His bride.

[ii] Many places in the Bible God is portrayed as having motherly affection and care:

God: “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.” Is. 66:13

God: “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?  Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.” Is. 49:15

God: “For a long time I have held my peace, I have kept myself still and restrained myself, now I will cry out like a woman in labor, I will gasp and pant.”  Is. 42:14

Jesus said, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing.” Matt. 23:37 and Luke 13:34