The Scents of the Season

We’ve had lots of rain this week – the remnant of a tropical storm that started passing us about three days ago and is now the tail ends of it cause occasional showers and thunderstorms. It’s been lovely, as far as I’m concerned. I miss having rain more frequently than every 3-6 months!

One thing about rain is the smell of it. Who’d think that water falling from the sky could have a scent to it, but then, maybe it’s the scent of dry earth being touched lightly by water or plants that send their fragrances into the air when touched by precipitation. Rain brings a clean smell while salt air has a tang to it. Fresh-cut grass has a scent of its own, and even dust can have a particular smell. There’s a kind of signature about the smell of rain; once you learn its scent, it’s as distinctive as a rose. 

It would be a very dull world without smells.  Without it, food would have no taste, since much of what we perceive as “tasty” is not totally a function of the taste buds on our tongues.  Without our noses to smell, we are basically limited to sweet, salty, sour, and bitter.  Add a nose, and a couple of unimpaired areas of the brain, and the combinations multiply infinitely. 

My adoptive father lost his sense of smell in an accident.  He could tell which of the basic four tastes was which, but that was all. Yet to the end of his days, he would not eat a piece of apple pie without an accompanying slice of cheddar cheese because, as he put it, he didn’t “think it would taste right” without it.  It amused us no end, but he was entirely serious.  He had eaten his apple pie that way all his life until that point, so why change just because he could not physically taste it?   I think of the last time I had a severe cold.  It was hard to feel hungry because I could not taste anything.  I remembered something I had read about how to get sick pets to eat, so I tried the same thing – I added some pungent garlic to my food, and suddenly, I was not only hungry but enjoying what I ate.  That sense of smell made all the difference.

Smells are important, not only for telling us what is good to eat and what is not but also as a trigger for memories, both good ones and bad.  Things like apple pies or bread baking are not just pleasant but often bring back memories of special times.  Sometimes real estate agents encourage sellers to have one or the other cooking in the oven when the house is being shown to prospective buyers as a kind of encouragement to think of the house as warm, welcoming, and homey.  Maybe it works, I don’t know.  I know I love the smells of a wood fire, even if I can’t feel the heat or hear the popping and crackling of the burning process.  I enjoy the scents of rosemary and lavender, sugar cookies baking, hyacinths, salt air, and even the neighbor’s Chinese food (with lots of garlic) cooking. 

I like the smell of incense too. Nothing beats the scent of a high holy day like having a swinging thurible and puffs of smoke coming from incense burning on hot coals inside it. It’s a reminder of incense burned in the temple as a sacrifice or to represent prayers rising to the heavens in some other faiths as well as some Christian denominations. Native Americans often use burning sage to cleanse and purify a designated area. Hindus and Buddhists use incense as gifts to the gods and to carry their prayers upward. Beeswax candles have a subtle but clean fragrance that lingers after the flames are extinguished. I feel a sense of loss when I see oil candles on the altar and as the Paschal candle. They may be more economical, but I miss the fragrance of beeswax.

This week will be a busy one for our senses of smell. Pumpkin and apple pies, fresh bread, turkey stuffing, the tang of cranberries cooking for sauce (if one is brave enough to try to make it!), and more will be in the air as we prepare for Thanksgiving. Looking beyond, we have the scents of gingerbread, hot cider, sugar and other kinds of cookies, cakes, pies, puddings, fires in the fireplace, coffee and tea brewing, perhaps a smoked ham cooking, Christmas tree resins (or maybe fake Christmas tree sprays), fresh-cut boughs and runners, the tang of cold air – there are so many scents to look forward to. The weather may be severe and treacherous, but somehow the fragrances of the holidays cheer us up even if just a little.

Perhaps it sounds silly, but I need to remember to thank God for giving me a reasonable sense of smell so that I can enjoy the smell of the rosemary bush I brush past as I go to get into my truck, the scent of rain, the delicious anticipation of good food cooking, the comfort of natural wood fires on the hearth, and the faint recollection of the scents of the church during the holidays. It’s enough to make my heart lighter, despite the lengthening of the nights and the chill of the air this time of year.

Come to think of it, I should thank God for the candles, colored lights, sounds of music of centuries past, and the taste of seasonal foods (and everyday food as well). I think this year, I’ll have to have a piece of apple pie with a sliver of cheddar cheese for Daddy. I’ll thank God for memories that are evoked by things I see, hear, smell, taste, and touch because they are gifts that give the world dimension and texture. It would be a very dull, bland world without them.

Happy Thanksgiving and God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, November 23, 2019.

Running Out

Drat.  I had a recipe all set out to make up this afternoon and had my mouth all set for the delicious product I had hoped to produce, but I lacked one ingredient and really didn’t have a substitute for it.  Running out of things is getting to be a habit. Last week I ran out of bread, eggs, and canned cat food. As someone I know on Facebook would say, <le sigh>. I had bought some groceries this week but didn’t remember that the milk was getting old and I didn’t know I needed currants or raisins. Well, the Welsh cakes I wanted to try will have to wait until next week. At least I’m not out of bathroom tissue, eggs, or cat food!



It’s always inconvenient to run out of something just at the time it’s needed the most, like gas in the tank, tape to finish wrapping a present, paper towels to clean up a mess, or another skein of yarn to finish a shawl, sweater, or scarf.  It’s inconvenient to have a month that lasts longer than the money available to last through it, but that’s something many of us try our best to keep from happening. The tires on the car will last another year or so, we hope, but we do need to have the oil changed soon or face possible calamity. There are lots of things we can do without, but it’s more pleasant if we don’t have to.

Luckily for us, God never runs out of things except for maybe patience now and again. Indeed, the Hebrew Scriptures portrayed God as being a bit grumpy from time to time, but then, we have to remember that God was trying to teach creation and the descendants of Adam and Eve (and any other people or creatures) the rules of life and obedience. I wonder, though, did God run short on things when God made the platypus with a bill and tail without fur?  Was there an excess of beautiful colors that God wanted to use when the peacock, parrot, hummingbird, tropical fish, and other colorful creatures’ turn came for painting?  Were the shades of trees selected so the leaves of specific species turned a particular hue in fall? Did God take pleasure in creating all the kinds and colors of cats and dogs, as well as their different environments and temperaments? I wish I could have been there at creation; I might have tried to talk God into making a few real unicorns.

But that brings us to the thought of God as infinitely nearly everything we could name. Patient, creative, boundless, generous, caring, protective, and loving – and those are just some of the attributes of God.

Does God loose natural disasters on humankind and innocent creatures on a whim, knowing that none of them are prepared for such calamities?  The ancient Egyptians would have said yes, based on the plagues God sent so the Israelites could be free.  The victims of epidemics, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, earthquakes, and the like might say yes, based on the losses of life and property as a result.  Even some Christians would say that God was responsible for teaching the modern world the same lessons the Egyptians and others had to learn about who God is/was and what the rules were. I don’t even want to think about a God who makes wagers on a person’s faith as if his life, family, and possessions were a prize to be won or lost on the toss of a die.

Unlike us, God doesn’t run out of things. Commodities are nothing to God except to be recognized as temptations that can change good men to evil as the Emperor turned Anakin Skywalker to the dark side. God gave humankind almost limitless freedom, except for a few rules (which humans didn’t waste time observing). Ok, there were really 613 by the time of Leviticus, but by then the Ten Commandments needed updating.  It sounds a lot like the way our government operates today, at least to my way of thinking.

Does God weep when seeing homeless and hungry people and animals?  When disaster overwhelms farms, towns, and even cities?  Does God rejoice when a new child is born, or someone acknowledges God’s love?  I can’t imagine God not loving to watch kittens wrestling, birds singing, or seeds sprouting.

God’s highest abundance is grace, the ability to receive regeneration and sanctification through divine influence, to be strengthened to endure and resistant to temptation, and to be given particular virtues or gifts. Christians recognize grace as God’s gift to us, but often it is applied to those fitting particular beliefs and parameters.  That’s the bad news.

The good news is that God’s grace is boundless, unlimited, and available to all, whether or not they accept it. There is no expiration date, number of items, coupons, or anything other than a willingness to be open to it and receive it. It never runs out. If somehow someone makes a mistake and feels that he or she has lost God’s grace, an acknowledgment (and possibly amends) is all it takes. Unlike cupboards and cabinets, the supply is endless and renewed in times of need. Now how much better can something get than that?

Thinking about that grace makes being out of milk and things like that pretty paltry (except for cat food – my boys would never forgive me!).  Sure, running out of things is inconvenient and sometimes makes life very difficult, but the cupboard full of grace is always there. And God is never going to send a bill for taxes, overdrafts, or past due amounts.

That, my friends, is a deal I can’t turn down. 

God bless.

Originally published on Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, November 16. 2019.

Repairing the Broken

In 1847, Margaret Wolfe Hungerford used a phrase in a book that she authored that, in part, has become well used: “…Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Perhaps she wasn’t the initial author of the phrase, but she used it in a modern context to explain that what appeals to someone as something beautiful may not always appeal to everybody else in the same way. Most contemporary and post-modern art is, to me, incomprehensible, while others find it profound, penetrating, and, yes, beautiful. Oh, well, different strokes for different folks.

In our most recent Education for Ministry (EfM) class, we used a picture of a cup very similar to the one above. First, we looked at it as an interesting object, determining what it was, what kind of world it would come from, how it was created, and what it meant to the culture that made it. We were off and running.

This teacup started life as a lump of clay, formed by hand, painted, glazed, and fired. It became an everyday, useful cup that could possibly be found in thousands of homes in Japan. Somehow it got broken into pieces. In our culture, it probably would have been thrown out, but in Japan, someone took the time and expense to repair the cup very carefully, using gold resin rather than ordinary glue. Suddenly, the plain broken vessel became something unique and beautiful, a piece of art that was now worth much more than the original unbroken cup had been. It became a treasure, a thing of beauty in the eyes of many beholders.

In our Theological Reflection (TR), we moved to the tradition questions as a way of looking at the object slightly differently. Where was the brokenness in the image? What reminded you of redemption or restoration?  Where in our Christian tradition (scripture, hymns, lives of saints, stories, etc.) could we recall that might illustrate what this cup could be a reminder?  


We thought of someone taking the time and effort to restore the cup, and that brought us to God taking all of us who are broken in various ways, and healing (if not curing) us so that we could continue our lives in God’s service to the world. We reflected on the healing ministries of Jesus, who took strangers, all broken, and healed them, not to prove his legitimacy as the Son of God but as an example of the power of God and God’s love for the broken of the world.

We are taught to hide our flaws and brokenness. It would make us look bad in the eyes of the world if they could see the cracks and fragments of our inner selves as well as our outer ones. Our self-image, our pride, and our image to the world would be harmed if others could see our internal messes. We are taught to use invisible tape to try to repair things like a torn piece of paper, super glue for just about everything, and an internal form of duct tape to patch the inner flaws and brokenness so that we appear to be whole and healthy. God doesn’t bother with invisible patches (or duct tape, which is far from invisible).  God uses love and care to fix the broken, and if it is visible, it makes it much more beautiful than the original was.

What is more, God doesn’t wait for us to bring ourselves for healing. We present ourselves to God for our own sake, not for God’s. God forgives us even if we don’t ask, but speaking of our sins and brokenness makes it more real to us and helps to bridge the gap left by whatever it was that we did. God uses the bridge to bring the pieces together, stronger than before, because we had the strength to ask and the wisdom to realize that God’s forgiveness is guaranteed. That’s not just a gold resin, it’s pure gold, and it’s available to us without reservation.

The mended cup may not be used for tea or saki after it has undergone the kintsugi process. Instead, it becomes a work of art, to be displayed singly, not buried in a cupboard, or in a collection of other pieces.  Most often, it has a pedestal or tabletop all to itself to prevent anything else from detracting from the object. It is allowed to be studied and appreciated for itself alone, not as a manufactured or cookie-cut piece like thousands of others. Each piece breaks in its own way and is restored to its original shape but with a beautiful pattern of repair that invites reflection and appreciation.

Perhaps we need to see ourselves in terms of kintsugi. God repairs us because of love, just as the artist who restored the cup did, only God does it with so much more than love and resin. Maybe if we thought of ourselves, and others, in that way, we might become closer to the Kingdom of God people we promise to try to be in our baptismal covenant. Perhaps it would be easier to focus on others rather than staring in our own mirror, looking for brokenness to hide and flaws to cover up. Possibly exposing the flaws God has mended would give someone else the strength to seek God’s forgiveness and grace. It’s much more valuable than gold baubles and perfect images, and it is beauty in the eye of the beholder who may just need some beauty in his or her life.

Think about it.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, November 9, 2019.

All Souls 2019

The ghoulies, ghosties, and spooky noises have disappeared for another year, although many houses still have a pile of candy either left over or gained by family trick-or-treaters.  

Yesterday was the first day of November, the official beginning of the new church year and usually listed as All Saints’ Day. This year, churches will celebrate tomorrow as All Saints, as it is celebrated traditionally as a major feast day on the Sunday closest to the calendar date.

Today we celebrate All Souls, a commemoration that usually follows All Saints but which this year is between the actual date of All Saints and the celebrated feast in the church. It is not celebrated as lavishly as All Saints, except in cultures that mark el Dia de Los Muertos, a Mexican and Central-American fiesta unrelated to Halloween. Families decorate the tombs of their loved ones, and often spend an entire night at the gravesites, eating and drinking and remembering the ones who have gone before them. Flowers are abundant and painted caricatures of skeletons and skulls decorate family altars and even shops. It is truly a feast of the dead rather than a fun holiday where children can dress up and ask for candy at neighborhood houses. Many other predominantly Roman Catholic countries decorate the family graves and spend time in prayer and remembrance, sometimes feasting and sharing with their loved ones.

For the Episcopal and some other churches, All Souls is a celebration of the small-s saints, those who have died in the faith but not canonized by the church and given a commemoration day of their own. All Saints belongs to the Big-S Saints like Francis, Catherine (the multitude of them), Augustine, Hildegarde, and others who we know by name. All Souls belongs to the ordinary people; the faithful departed who might not have done significant miracles but who were present in the lives of those who knew and loved them. They are the mothers, fathers, family members, beloved friends, inspiring teachers and leaders, and heroes who do thousands of small miracles every day, often unrecognized.

Beginning perhaps a week or so before All Souls, churches ask people to submit names of their departed, especially those who have died in the past year. The individual submissions are combined to form a list that rests on the altar until it is read aloud during the prayers at a mass held on November 2nd.  

All Souls is an important day in my calendar.  I have so many people on my list that it would take several minutes just to read them.  There are my birth father, adoptive father and brother, lots of aunts and uncles both related and honorary, and neighbors and friends who have loved me and helped me at various points in my life. Some were friends only for a few years, while others remained friends for decades. There are some people inspired me in so many ways, and some who supported me through difficult times. All of them feel very close to me on this day, and although I am not able to cry, the tears are just below the surface simply because I miss them so much.

One particular saint was my adoptive mother. She and the family took me in when I was about five months old and made me part of that family.  She was a two-time breast cancer survivor who died when I was fourteen, a time when it felt like I could do with a mother even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. Many of my saints were women who filled her shoes from time to time, making sure I had what I needed, whether clothes, advice, a place to visit when I got lonely, and more than occasionally put an extra potato in the pot for dinner just for me. 

I miss Mama more the older I get. Knowing she and I had suffered the same disease made me miss having her advice and experiences so that it wouldn’t be so frightening. Luckily I had a friend who filled in, going to the doctor and surgeon with me and even taking me to the hospital and picking me up after my surgery. Another friend took me to some medical tests and stayed until I was ready for a ride home. Those two have been priceless.  Fortunately, one of them I can still rely on; whatever I need, she seems to be able to supply.  

When I visit back home, I always manage to visit the cemetery where many of my family lie. I wish I could visit that cemetery today, but it’s on the East Coast, over 2,300 miles away, so I will have to content myself with looking at their graves from a distance on Google.  Still, in my heart and mind, they will be with me today as they are whenever I think of them and probably many times when I don’t consciously have them in mind.

I love it that my church has a commemoration where my saints can be remembered, even by those who never knew them, merely by hearing their names read on a list. I appreciate that I can join with others in remembering their saints along with mine, making our community stronger and more connected. Not all denominations have such a remembrance, but since I have found it, I have gained comfort and a designated time to celebrate all of them together. The night of All Souls becomes a thin space, a veil between the world of the living and the dead which is almost able to be penetrated so that the two worlds can join together.  It’s a precious and priceless feeling, one I wouldn’t trade for anything. 

Who are your saints?  If you haven’t made a list already, sit for a few moments and write them down. Then remember why they are your saints and thank them for their gifts to you, and thank God for having put them in your life at just the right times.  It won’t be a wasted few moments, I assure you.

May the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace, rise in glory, and remain with us in spirit until we can join them in the glory of God and the heavenly kingdom. Amen.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul  on Episcopal Café