Beginning Again – New Connections

Besides being a hospital chaplain, mother and wife, I am also a labyrinth enthusiast. For those who may not know what a labyrinth is, it is a singular winding path that has the same way in as out and is used as a prayer and meditation tool. It is found in many religions, including Christianity. The labyrinth I am most familiar with is called a Chartres Patterned labyrinth based off the labyrinth found in the Chartres Cathedral in France.

My journey with the labyrinth has been on going for 15 years now. I use it in my own personal devotional time, as well as guiding others on labyrinth experiences as a certified labyrinth facilitator. It is my journey with the labyrinth that healed my family after the death of our second child, Hope, at 14 weeks gestation. A year after Hope’s death I found myself in desperate need of completing my dream of building a labyrinth in my back yard, so as a family, we built that labyrinth.  We named it Hope’s Labyrinth in memory of our child/sibling and found healing as a family. Four years later, I was sought out by a woman writing a book about women who built labyrinths and asked me to tell her the story of Hope’s labyrinth for the book. She took the time to connect each one of the women in her book, creating a group of women connected not only by words on a page, but also in a shared spirit.

Fast forward to this past December and my trip to Hawaii. It just so happened that one of the women in this group lived on Maui, one of the islands we were to visit. I realized I could not visit Maui without meeting this woman to whom I was connected. So on our last day in Hawaii, we drove out to visit her and her labyrinth. We were graciously greeted with hugs.  Genuine excitement and pleasure of meeting us and sharing stories of labyrinths came through our meeting. That welcome of me, mostly a stranger, was a blessing, as was my time in her garden.

I walked her labyrinths, the sound of a nearby rushing stream surrounding me. Lush green trees and plants, exotic to this Colorado/Kansas girl, a vision of serenity. As I approached the labyrinth, camera in hand, I noticed a rock with the words Begin Again, carved into it. With our trip coming to an end and the New Year just on the horizon, I contemplated those words. The trip was not ending.  It was sending back into my life renewed in body, mind and spirit, to have the opportunity to begin my daily life again energized and rested.  The New Year was on the horizon.  Those words pushed me to consider how I wanted to begin again in a new year, living a life that acknowledges the way we are connected. As I pondered these thoughts, I noticed some vines that had grown woven together.  Once again reinforcing for me the importance of being connected. 

I was deeply grateful for camera in hand as I stopped my walking to take a picture.  Some might argue that having the camera on this prayer experience was a distraction.  But for me it was different.  Having the camera gave my eyes and heart a different perspective to see and ponder simple things I might have other wise missed. 

I am pretty sure I have not even begun to delve into the depths of everything the morning at The Sacred Garden gave me.  I know the experience has given me food for thought and food for my soul that will nourish my quiet moments.  I am beginning again, renewed and grateful for the entire experience, including the half dozen mosquito bites gained.  And that truly is a new perspective for me.

Baking the Sacrament of Hospitality

One of the things I enjoy doing is baking bread. I long ago gave up my bread machine and started teaching myself the art of baking bread by hand, from scratch. It is a hobby that I love. Part of why I love it is because it is something that I can share with others to nourish their bodies as well as spirit. So when my church offered me the opportunity to make the bread for communion each month, I accepted with a glad heart. At the time I had no idea what this once a month baking would teach me about hospitality. You see our communion table needs to accommodate multiple food allergies and sensitivities. So I set out to find a recipe that would accommodate our needs so that no one would be excluded from or singled out at Christ’s table. For several years now this inclusive bread has graced the communion table of our church and other tables.

As I have taken on this task, it has caused me to reflect deeply on what inclusion at the table means and what hospitality at Christ’s table looks like. I have come to the conclusion that hospitality of Christ’s table is more than just providing bread that all can partake of. It goes deeper than that. By having the same loaf of bread that everyone can eat from we create community. Community is shared when we break and eat of the same loaf. When I eat from the same loaf of bread created for someone with special dietary needs, I am reaching beyond my own ability to eat what ever I want to connect with them in their place of need. It may seem like such a small gesture, but to those that have this need the symbolism and meaning of this deep hospitality is not lost and it connects at a spiritual level.

                  Recently this act of inclusive hospitality was expanded a bit. My daughter is still learning what it means to be a follower of Christ, so she partakes only of the grapes provided during communion for the youngest at the table. This has not stopped her from showing an interest in helping me make the bread each month. So the first Saturday in November she and I went to the kitchen and embarked on the journey of me teaching her how to make the bread. This went beyond just showing her how to measure each ingredient and mix it together. It meant teaching her why we use each type of flour that we do; why there is no dairy or eggs. I was teaching her that the table of Christ is there for everyone, no exceptions, and that the hospitality of the table means that we do our best to be sure everyone is invited and can partake. This is why we make the bread we do and take such care in making it.

                  Another tradition of hospitality that my church engages in is that there are two loaves of bread, one for the table and one loaf to share with a family to take home. In the past, I have been the one to give the bread to a family. This time I had my daughter take the bread over to the chosen family. Not only did she get to help make the bread, she got to participate in the hospitality of giving. The joy on her face at being included in such an important tradition reinforced to me the importance of finding a role for even the youngest at Christ’s table.

                  So now I have a new first Saturday of the month tradition, baking communion bread with my daughter. She has a new role at the table, delivering hospitality. And as we continue in this tradition, I cannot think of a better or more hospitable way to teach my daughter about communion and its meaning.