A Tale of Three Butterflies

 For most Create in Me retreats, we have a community art project, something we can work on together.  Some times, the work stays at Lutheridge, like the cross as tall as a human, made of clear plastic, filled with broken things.  One year, we knotted a quilt for Lutheran World Relief.  This year, we made a huge butterfly, decorated with bits of nature.  I brought it back to my house because Lutheridge didn't really have a place for it, and it had so much glue on it that I wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave it beside a trail to decompose, as we had once thought we would do:

Here's what it looked like at worship yesterday:

It began as a series of fan blades.  Here's what it looked like when my spouse and I first constructed it last week:

I felt a keen sense of failure and despair at this early stage.  My friend on the planning team had sent me this picture when describing what the group had in mind and asking if my spouse could build the base for it:

I wrote to my friend to tell her that we might not have created what she had in mind.  She wrote back the most perfect reply:  "It will look just as it should--a unique community effort."  I so needed those words, to know that I hadn't let the team down.

In the end, I like what we created better.  One friend used the leftover dried flowers that she created for her drop in station.  We used some of the leftover wood circles that had been cut for a prayer project.  We used interesting bits that people found during outdoor time.  

And in the end, yes, it looked just the way it needed to look--many good life lessons/reminders here.

Long Lasting Labyrinth Made of Braids

Yesterday, I posted this picture after we finished setting up the labyrinth at the chapel at Lutheridge:

Early on, the Create in Me retreat ended with closing worship and a labyrinth walk.  We have occasionally used the labyrinth that was created at the old tennis court, but it's not very accessible--and right now, it's still under downed trees.  So back in 2009, we created the braided strips that make the labyrinth.

How do I know that?  I went back to my blog and found this blog post that describes making the strips.  I also found this blog post which is a photo essay, and this post, which describes the experience of using the strips in words.

I have many reasons for why I continue to blog:  this ability to quickly find answers to the "what year was that?" or "how did this project go?" questions is one big reason why I keep blogging.

On the braided strips, we wrote prayers, along with gratitude and appreciation.  This morning, I thought about those prayers from 2009.  How many of them have been answered?  I thought about all of the people:  those of us we prayed for, those of us who did the praying.  Who is still alive?

I thought of all the ways we've used these long, braided strips:  for every Create in Me retreat since (almost 2 decades!).  Other retreats have used the braids, even non-Lutheridge retreats.  Other people have been inspired to try something similar.  I love that it's a budget friendly way to create a labyrinth.

It's a great metaphor for all the ways that our prayers and communities support us, even as the years and decades go on.  We braid our prayers together, in a variety of ways.  Those prayers braid us together, both immediately and through the years.  God, the master fabric artist, takes our offerings and weaves together our communities into an even more beautiful creation.

First Full Day of Create in Me

In some ways, the Create in Me retreat is the same from year to year:  Bible study in the morning, workshops, drop in stations with a wide variety of supplies and projects, worship and song, and of course, food and snacks (not all of which have this artist theme):

This retreat came with a coloring booklet and pencils on every table.  I haven't colored mine yet, because I might want to make copies.

Our theme is rooted in nature, so we've spent time in and with nature--including a nature walk yesterday.  We had 20 minutes to spend how we wanted, in nature, even if it was no further than steps from the door.  We had some questions to make us more intentional.

I went to my favorite tree, the maple between the Faith Center and the Dining Hall.  I spent time gazing and looking, looking close up, like I require my first year Composition students to do.  It was amazing.

I had a moment where I wanted to lie on the grass gazing up at the tree, but I decided it was unwise for many reasons.  I made an intentional decision not to take a camera or a notebook, to be fully present with the tree.

I love retreats for many reasons, but one reason is because it forces me to do what I say I want to do:  to be more present.

In the afternoon, we did worship planning.  I am always amazed how we come to the meeting at 3:30 with the barest bones of a worship service, and we have a fully-realized worship service prepared by the 6:45 start time.

We ended the day in the Faith Center, creating and talking.  It was a good day.  Of course, every Create in Me day is a good day--it's a foretaste of what could be. 

The Beginning Hours of a Retreat

Last night, the Create in Me retreat started.  It's interesting to see the contrast between this retreat and the Quilt Camp retreat three weeks ago.  It's always startling to walk into the Faith Center and to see all the visual elements of the Create in Me retreat:  stuff on every wall (all pleasing, but lots of stuff), various spots where people can sit apart from the tables, empty tables, tables with arts and crafts supplies, and tables for food and drink.  The Quilt Camp retreat begins with less visual stuff happening, but by the end of the retreat, it, too, has lots of visual elements competing for attention.

These pictures give you a sense, but one photo can't capture the effect of the whole room:

With each retreat, I begin by feeling a bit overwhelmed:  so much I could do, so many people to see.  It's also a bit discombobulating to be on retreat now, when it's so hard to feel like I'm really away.  When I first went on retreats as an adult, the idea was to be away, so there was no internet access.  I didn't have to feel like I needed to stay connected on any level because it wasn't possible.

And it's also different now because I live less than a mile away.  In so many ways, it's more delightful to be nearby.  But it's harder to feel as much on retreat.

For this retreat, I'm not trying to get back to Spartanburg to teach in person.  For the March Quilt Camp, I did try to do both, which I will try not to do in the future.  But in March, I felt like I couldn't take that time, because I had just been away. 

That feeling comes from me, not from the people in charge at my school.  I am so lucky to be in a place where we are encouraged to do professional development, and our choices aren't second guessed or undercut.  Very lucky.

Pioneer Scholars and a Hope for the Future

Yesterday was Pioneer Scholars Day at Spartanburg Methodist College, our first ever.  Last year, we had a smaller, precursor event, where students had time to present posters they had created for a class project.  For those of you who go to academic conferences, you're probably familiar with posters as a way to present research.  If the idea of a poster is unfamiliar, think of the posters you might have made for school projects, but more sophisticated in appearance (i.e. not made with markers and glue) with proper citations of research.

The presentation of posters was still a big part of Pioneer Scholars Day.  In addition, in the morning, we had panel presentations, and an art display.  I was judge for the art display.  During the other morning  events, I heard a panel of papers written for History classes and later in the morning, students presenting their musical compositions on a iPad app.

In the afternoon, graduating seniors presented their capstone projects, a wide variety of work.  The day culminated in a late afternoon celebration of graduates, with happy hour type food.

I signed up for the morning shift, so I didn't stay for the afternoon events.  I was very glad to have a chance to be part of the morning shift.   It was so wonderful to see students presenting their work in a variety of ways--and wonderful to see the variety of work.

Although I went to Newberry College, a small, liberal arts college, I have spent most of my teaching life in other types of schools.  I've found kindred spirits there, particularly in schools that had an English major.  It's refreshing to be teaching in a school where the value of having a diverse education, of becoming a well-rounded human, is a value we all support.  

A few weeks ago, as I was walking to my car, I saw this tire cover on a jeep, with a reference to Thoreau:

Not for the first time, I reflected on how lucky I am to be here, at this point in my life.  Teaching these students, most of them no older than 21, makes me feel hopeful for the future--these students will be able to figure it out, no matter what the future holds for them.

 

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, April 19, 2026:

First Reading: Acts 2:14a, 36-41

Psalm: Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17 (Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Peter 1:17-23

Gospel: Luke 24:13-35

Today we read of the sojourners on their way to Emmaus. This story gives us an important window into the lives we are to have as Christians, particularly when it comes to the sharing of a meal, and our basic obligations when it comes to hospitality.

That hospitality is the often overlooked side of the Emmaus story. The travelers have walked seven miles together.  For those of you who are wondering, that might take the modern walker, walking at a fast clip, a bit over two hours; in Biblical times, with unpaved roads with poorly shod feet, I'm estimating it would take half a day. When they get back to their house, they don't say to Jesus, "Well, good luck on your journey."

No--they invite him inside. What remarkable hospitality. They share what they have. They don't say, "Well, I can't let you see my house in its current state--let's go out to dinner." No, they notice that the day is nearly done, and they invite a stranger in to stay the night.  They don't direct the stranger to the nearest inn.

Those of you who have read your Bible will recognize a motif. God often appears as a stranger, and good things come to those who invite a stranger in. For those of you who protest that modern life is so much more dangerous than in Biblical times, and so it was safer for people like Abraham and the Emmaus couple to invite the stranger to stay, I'd have to disagree.

Without that hospitality, those strangers never would have known their fellow traveler. We are called to model the same behavior.

One thing we can do in our individual lives is to adopt a Eucharistic mindset. Never has this been more vital. Most people have ceased cooking for themselves, and many Americans are eating at least one meal a day while they drive.

Rebel against this trait. Look for ways to make meals special. Cook for yourself. Invite your friends and loved ones to dinner. Occasionally, invite someone to join your group that is outside of your regular friendship circle--the new person at church/book club/work.  Each week, go to a different bakery and buy yourself some wonderful bread. Open a bottle of wine and savor a glass.

If we can't be together in person, we can do this virtually.  One of the good realizations to come out of the pandemic is that hospitality can be shared from a distance.  It's easier for many of us to have a video call than a phone call, and many of us have the technology to do this now, with our computers and smart phones.  Technology can be distancing, but it can also connect us.

Jesus calls us to a Eucharistic life, which requires a major readjustment of our mindset around the issues of food, drink, time, and hospitality. Consider the Capitalist/Consumerist model that our culture offers us, and the invitation from Jesus looks even more attractive.

So, before the day gets later, go and buy some bread. Think about the many ways that bread (and other grains) sustain most of us throughout the world. Drink some wine and think about the miracle of fermentation; ponder the reality that in many parts of the world, people drink fermented beverages because the water supply is tainted, but fermentation provides some protection.

You are the leaven in the loaf, the yeast that turns grape juice into the miracle of wine--how can you make that manifest in the world today?

Week-end Recap and a Look ahead at the Coming Week

It has been a good week-end; I haven't meant not to blog this week-end.  My basal cell skin cancer removal on late Friday afternoon went well.  In fact, it was the easiest skin cancer removal yet.  Is it because it was on my back, so I couldn't see what was happening?

Whatever the reason, I'm always grateful for easy medical operations.  

We had a week-end similar to so many, filled with cooking, baking, running errands, looking at mindless TV and mindful internet wandering, both together and apart.

In some ways, my Sunday was easier than most Sundays.  We had a group of seminarians and college students staying at the church.   They were in town for the race, and they slept and had meals at the church, which they've done every time they're in town. The seminarian preached 2 great sermons, both the youth sermon and the other one, and he and 2 friends assisted with communion. Their enthusiasm for life in all its facets made me feel like maybe civilization has a chance after all.

I didn't have to craft a sermon for yesterday, but I still spent time writing a sermon--I won't be with my congregation this coming Sunday, so I'll need to have a sermon to them.  I had hoped to have it ready to leave at the church yesterday, but it was not to be.  I got a draft done, but it was still in rough shape yesterday.

This morning, I've done some revising, and I'm happy that it's stronger now.  I'll put it aside, do one or two more revisions and call it done.

This week will be one of schedule disruptions.  Tomorrow, all classes are cancelled so that we can all participate in Pioneer Scholars day, where we'll have presentations of all sorts.  Faculty are required to be on hand for a variety of support.  I am judging a fine arts competition.

At the end of the week, I will be up the hill at Lutheridge, for my beloved Create in Me retreat.  I haven't really thought about the retreat too much at this point--I'm not that kind of member of the planning team.  I am somewhat surprised to find myself here, speeding to the end of the semester.