The whole family attended a morning craft workshop on "Sacred Vessels" a few weeks ago. In her introduction, our minister mentioned a book entitled Everyday Sacred in which a woman considers an empty Buddhist begging bowl as a vehicle for her creativity and desire for simple living (okay, bear with me, I haven't read the book but now really want to. And the author's other book on living with the Amish, Plain and Simple). And so we were encouraged to consider how we like to preserve the sacred in our lives--in picture frames, in journals, in boxes--and to decorate those with recycled art materials on hand. I decoupaged two frames with tissue paper, as did Mama (though hers was very geometric and mine was more free-form), while Sis and Bud decorated boxes. And while the sacred vessels we made are still in my car (being extremely cat un-friendly because of pipe cleaners everywhere), the time we created together creating was sacred.
One sermon in January defined and explored credos, personal creeds or belief systems that guide an individual's life choices. The minister shared hers and encouraged us to think on ours. Can I boil my belief system down to a few short sentences (hmmm, given my propensity for verbosity, probably not)? Until her sermon, I had gladly embraced the 7 Principles of Unitarian Universalism:
1. The inherent worth and dignity of every person;
2. Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;
3. Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;
4. A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;
5. The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;
6. The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;
7. Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.
I try, when I am trying to make a choice from answering a request to going grocery shopping, to consider principles 1 and 7: am I respecting the inherent worth of this person or the interdependence of the world in which we live? So for a credo, I want to change that wording, make it my own, as our minister encouraged. When I figure it out, I'll let you know. But the process of boiling it all down really clarifies my thinking and, hopefully, my actions. I guess, in a way even, it will help clarify and concretize the mission of my life (more on that below).
Another recent sermon was on "Living the No-Regrets Life." Beginning with the jubilant, mission- and life-affirming email astronaut Laurel Clark (a UU from Racine, WA) sent from the Space Shuttle Columbia the day before it disintegrated upon re-entry, our minister posed a question, "what would I have to do to reach the end of my days and be able to say I have lived my life with no regrets?"
Immediately, the little things that we obsess about daily fall by the wayside--who really dies regretting refinishing the basement (or not) or not getting Christmas cards out on time? Who says, "I should've vaccuumed more"? No, this is bigger stuff. The stuff I think about more now that I have kids.
No regrets means living our conscience. No regrets means answering our
hearts' calling. No regrets means marching, dancing, twirling and singing
to the beat of our own drummer . . . but if we don't move, if we don't act, then
what???? Missed opportunities and regrets, wishes and what ifs, wondering,
longing for opportunities we allowed to slip through our fingers and toes, or
even to march on by as we sat watching.
Am I kind? Am I patient? Am I dependable? Am I a good friend/mother/spouse/daughter/sister? Did I live in the present enough to remember it, to cherish it, in the future?
Beyond my personal relationships, what is my larger mission? Raising kind, loving, generous kids? As Dorothea states in Middlemarch, making life less difficult for others through social action and particularly my work in pastoral care? Sharing my knowledge of art with others to help bring more beauty, creativity, insight, and enjoyment into their lives? I wonder if I had not completed my dissertation would I have regretted that? Will I regret it if I never go back to work full-time? If I choose my family mission above my career mission? Or if I redefine my art-mission so that it fits into my family life?
One regret clearly, strongly, painfully came to me as I sat in service, though. I regret not seeing my family in Texas more. And so, while it might take some logistical-hurdle jumping, we're going to try--no, we're going to do it!--to see my family here, there, or in between more than 2-3 times a year. Because at the end of my life, or theirs, I will regret that we didn't see each other more.
And it's these kinds of insights that get me up and to church early on a Sunday morning. I wouldn't have missed these lessons, these insights, for all the sleep in the world.
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