I love baseball and I love the Boston Red Sox.

I love baseball at this time of the year when I still have a team that's playing.  And I especially love this time of year when the Red Sox are still playing.  Like this year.  

It's not always like this.  OK, for LOTS of years it's NOT like this.  Most times this time of year is difficult because none of my teams (the teams that matter most: Red Sox, those lovable Cubbies and now the Braves) are still playing.  

2013 had a really great start for the play-offs.  I was really really pulling for the Braves to play the Red Sox in the World Series.  But then "baseball is baseball" and the Braves lost to the Dodgers.  Badly.  Painfully.  Quickly.  

 So then I really, really wanted the Dodgers to play the Red Sox (because of my Dodger-fan-cousin Chuck).  I thought that would be a good match-up. But then the Dodgers lost to the darn Cardinals.  

Let me quote from sister Betsey's recent facebook post explaining out feelings about the Cardinals:
          To my friends who happen to be Cardinal Fans.
    >> Full Disclosure << The next couple of weeks are going to be interesting. Dad always said that at birth he was asked to                        declare his loyalty to either the Damn Yankees or the Red Sox. The Red Sox are his legacy passed on to us. We were raised in the exact middle between Chicago and St Louis. At birth we were asked the same question about the Cubs and the Cards. This explains my undying loyalty to the Cubbies. Nothin' personal. It's just how it is. So, "Bring it on" Cards fans. We can handle it. And I know with every fiber of my being that we will still be friends when the fat lady sings. Deal?

(Couldn't have said it any better Bets, thanks.)

Every year sometime in March my good friend Erin and I meet either for breakfast or lunch and we choose the teams we think will go to the World Series  that year.  We choose the wild card teams.  We choose the division winners.  Every year I pick the Red Sox.  This year (I need to say publicly) I stepped out in faith, choosing my beloved BoSox.  They finished last last year with that darn Bobby Valentine.  Oy vey, that guy was not good.  Not good.  But I grew up being faithful.  And so, once again this year I picked them to win the World Series.   Who in the world would have guessed what kind of year they'd have?  Wow!  (Except for the beards) I love these guys.

Red Sox blood runs through our veins.  Every summer growing up we'd listen to games on the radio when we went to CT for vacations.  And every year our dads would stuff us into the back of the station wagon, and the Haines-Brogan Fenway trip would be celebrated.

You just know that Ted and Dad have their fingers (and toes) crossed.  They're getting comfortable chairs with a good view and settling back.  Let's take this series in 6 games, guys.  What'd ya say?

Play Ball!

     There are places you visit and enjoy and there are places you visit and say you could live there. Savannah had always been the latter for me. 
 
    Linda's people are from here. (Well, actually her people were from TN before they were from Savannah...but I digress...). Linda has been bringin' me to Savannah since we were in seminary.      

    I love it here. I love the flatness. I love wearing shorts when we come for Thanksgiving or for Christmas. I love the colors in spring and fall. I love seeing the moss in the trees {it always reminds me of visiting the grands in Winter Haven}. I love the colors of the many flowers. I love a sleepy, rainy Saturday afternoon. I love sitting on their front porch swing listening to the traffic on Abercorn. I love all the parks sprinkled through town.  And the people are kind here.
 
    It's a good and gracious thing to have a place or two where you'd like to go next.  I love where we are, the home we've made and are making. 

     And I dream about "someday." Being close to the ocean. Walking on flat.  Wearing shorts year - round.  There's so much about Savannah that makes my heart sing...if somebody could just do something about those pesky sandgnats....

     Our Family Tree’s roots were watered well by the western ocean this past weekend.  Nothing like people of the rich and fertile Illinois farmland getting their feet shaken, not stirred in the ice-cold Pacific.  It was lovely.  It was tender and gregarious.  It felt so much like home ~ even there.

     Cousin Lisa married Brent in Santa Barbara and as many as could gathered round them to celebrate.  Lisa is Mom’s younger brother, Tom’s youngest daughter (I’d say she’s my favorite ~ and she is ~ just like all my cousins are).

     Lisa stood so tall and strong, confident and sure, blessed and a blessing to us all.  She was right where she wanted to be ~ and many of her kin were right there with her to bear witness to the moment.

     She and Brent invited me to “call on the saints” for my part in the service.  We’d spoken on the phone a couple weeks before so that I could “meet” Brent and we could talk about what they wanted said in that part of the ceremony.  It was my first time talking with him and he generously told me of his family tree.  Brent tenderly spoke of his father who had died a few years ago.  He described his father as being independent and compassionate, a strong man of humor and faith.  He said his dad was a piano player who could never quite master his favorite tune, “The Maple Leaf Rag.” (You’ve gotta love a guy who never gives up…)  And Brent asked me to speak of his dad’s undying love for his wife, Marie.

     Half of Lisa’s kin are also mine, so it was a challenging task to choose which one to be her witness.  I thought about Bobbee and Granddaddy, the grands we shared who gathered us around family tables, taught us to play cards and called most every Sunday evening to check-in.  I thought about Lisa’s other grandmother, Martha who taught her of generosity and love of story.

      When it was all said and done, I chose my Mom, Lisa’s Aunt Barb.  Mom’s been gone 8 years this past week and would so, so, so have wanted to be there with Lisa and Brent for their big day.  As it turns out, perhaps she was.  When the pictures were being taken outside the church before the ceremony, a butterfly kept dancing from one shoulder to the next.  Somehow everyone knew that Aunt Barb had joined them.

     The music started and my two handsome cousins, Chuck and Thomas escorted Aunt Cynthia down the aisle, followed by Lisa's three nieces Erika, Kate and Maddy (one in grad school and the other two toddling), followed next by her sisters, Julie and Karen and finally my Uncle Tom walking so proudly with his youngest daughter on his arm.  I didn’t stop crying until we were on our way to the reception at the beach.  Even the Santa Ana winds couldn’t weary our spirits.   It was truly a day of celebration.  Family and friends encircled Brent and Lisa and love was in the air.

    Our family tree expanded her branches and welcomed in another this past weekend.  I took this picture of the California sunrise on the morning Claud, Bets, Linda and I headed back to Atlanta.  Morning Had Broken and Aunt Barb would have just loved it.

       Everyday we are given more than enough.        (Even in those words I am aware of how privileged I am. I’m thinking about words and so many are hungry today and thirsty today and without shelter today and without healthcare today and without hope today. Forgive me for brushing past those truths so quickly, too quickly.)

     Everyday we are given more words and images than we can take in and process and wonder and pray about. More than enough. Perhaps it’s our 24/7 news cycles. Pictures and stories flash across our TV sets. And if that wasn’t enough there are constant sub-stories running beneath them.

     Today (October 2nd) is Day #2 of our Government Shut-Down and words seem not nearly enough to express deep frustration, shared desperation, and anger at the leaders of our nation. The separation between the “have” and “have nots” only grows wider. And the ones who we have trusted to lead us…talk on and on and on.

     In my lifetime we’ve gone from three channels: ABC,NBC, and CBS and now have hundreds.  It’s so easy to “surf” the night away and go to bed so very weary.  When I do this at night, I wonder hours later when I’m turning out the light, “what was I looking for?”

     Friday, October 4th is the day set aside to celebrate St. Francis of Assisi.  The one quoted as saying, "Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words, " is said to have to have turned away from the weights of the world and turned toward a new way of being in the world. It is said that his life began in opulent wealth and was lived out with a dedication to the poor. He was said to have been known to seek out and bless the animals.

     He is given credit for a prayer for peace:

O! Signore, fa di me uno strumento della tua Pace:

Dove è odio, fa ch'io porti l'Amore


Dove è offesa, ch'io porti il Perdono.


Dove è discordia, ch'io porti l'Unione.


Dove è dubbio, ch'io porti la Fede.


Dove è errore, ch'io porti la Verità.


Dove è disperazione, ch'io porti la Speranza.


Dove è tristezza, ch'io porti la Gioia.


Dove sono le tenebre, ch'io porti la Luce.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is error, the tr

Where there is doubt, the faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

     There’s a balance in this life I am seeking. I don’t want to stick my head in the sand and turn off and away from all the events that are happening. AND I don’t want to stay tethered to a box that becomes my strongest connection to the world.

     Maybe this day marking St. Francis would be a good day to stretch beyond what I’ve always done and try something I’ve yet to do…like praying in Italian. Maybe this day is the perfect day to begin line-by-line to pray the prayer of St. Francis in his language. Something beyond what’s comfortable and ordinary.  Old wines in a new wineskin. That’ll preach.