Figuring out Lent- it’s not so bad, actually.

Picture my grandfather took from the shore in 1936- possibly of the ship coming into harbor of Bremerhaven that he was about to get on to to go back to his new home country, the USA. He had been on a visit home to see his dying mother for the last time. You can see the dark clouds of war on the horizon.

I’ve written a few pieces over at kirstiemacleod.substack.com if you’d like to check them out. I’m not sure I will be continuing to publish there, I’m awfully fond of my little writing nook over here. There are no ads, tempting reels and random posts to distract me while I’m working, and since the comments don’t work, ye trolls who don’t know me can’t leave their thoughts lying around.

It’s Sunday morning and I’m not feeling my best so I just watched church online, in my pajamas, with dogs at my side and coffee in hand, reminding me of covid shutdown days. I’m thankful that church can be streaming now for the days we can’t be there in person or for those that are homebound. 

The season of Lent has begun. Lent has always been more of a concept than a practice for me. Before we joined an Anglican Church, Lent just wasn’t a huge part of the church year- yes, it was there, but didn’t have the same kind of focus. All in all, outside of Advent, Christmas and Easter, in churches we were a part of in other places we’ve lived, there wasn’t much focus on the traditional seasons and practices of the church calendar. It’s something I’m getting used to and learning to appreciate- the annual spiraling and coming back to certain themes, and getting deeper understanding as we revisit them again and again- but each time we’ve all aged a year and are in new life circumstances. The world is in a different place. I think I feel that much more so, this year, in March 2025.

I take comfort in the fact that that as the wise writer said in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.” The disasters, politics, wars, empires, plagues- humans have been through the same thing over and over and over. The human world seems to have its own cyclical calendar of seasons in the rising and falling empires and all the misery that comes in between. Why do I take comfort in this? Because it means that others have gone before us. There is also a rich cycle of humans responding by caring for each other, building community, depending on each other, bonding together and seeking justice, goodness, kindness, and love in response to darkness. And they have left riches for us to mine. We can rightly hate the evil and darkness stalking the world, and get our “revenge” on it by letting God reach deep inside of us and use these circumstances to form us into people filled with light. We can look at what our brothers and sisters left behind as waypoints to guide us on this path. 

One of these waypoints is Lent. An image that our priest used in his sermon this morning was that of us being battered, broken ships that have been through violent storms of the soul, docking our ships in Jesus’ safe harbor. 

I love this image and it puts Lent into a new light for me. The various practices of Lent- fasting, giving something up, etc- are things I have never really done much. And the whole time we’ve been going to this church, where Lent is a “thing,” I’ve been living a very hard season of loss. Losing my mom figuratively and literally. Last Lent was one of tears every single day, knowing that the long, painful journey my mom was on was coming to its end. It has felt like my life of the last seven years or so has been 24-7 Lent, as I understood it, and I certainly didn’t see how giving up chocolate or coffee or some such on top of everything else was a going to be good idea.

But this year, a new concept of Lent as a deep season of mercy is wiggling into my mind. We are not very good and stopping and paying real, sustained, reflective attention to our souls. And some of us are frankly scared to. We are scared of the feelings we are sure will bubble up. Guilt over the reminders of the ways we are not living up to who we want to be, the good we want to do but don’t (mostly for the very stupid reason that we are staring at a screen, mesmerized, zoned out by candy content that we know is rotting our brain and attention but seems to glue us to the sofa). I’m sure you have your own list of the things you know you would feel guilty about if you stopped to think about it, and then there is the welling up of shame that follows and the tendency to reach for distraction when such unpleasant feelings arrive, and bam- that’s the end of that time of self-reflection.

But what if Lent is a safe harbor for those feelings? What if there is Someone waiting to come on board, not to inspect and condemn, but to bring healing salve and restoration? Maybe Lent is about realizing and admitting that if we are honest we are broken by things we have both done on purpose and things we have just let happen, been sucked into without raising resistance even though we instinctively know it’s not good for us or others. Realizing that the evil that has happened to us has created angry, bitter places that are growing and taking over our lives. Or maybe it’s not anger, but fear, shame, or self-loathing.  

There is another reason that I personally struggle with self-examination, though, that any fellow sufferers with OCD will recognize- the tendency to examine self  with a fine-toothed comb and scrutinize my inner world with a microscope. To easily get sucked into to a cycle where I am worried I am not thinking rightly about myself, and accuse myself of letting myself off the hook too easily. I get trapped in a room with a repetitive assault of thoughts about whether something is bad or not, I don’t think it is, but OCD thinks so, and accuses me of indulging in self-justification, and we go round and round about this, and I can’t see clearly at all whether this thing really is or isn’t good for me, good or bad. I can’t get any clarity once that starts up. 

I need Jesus-examination, not self-examination.

In other words, if this ship docks in His harbor for repairs, I have to give complete control of it over to Him. I can NOT be put in charge of my own inspection. I didn’t build this ship and despite the fact that I have lived in it for 46 years I still seem to have a very poor knowledge about its inner workings and zero knowledge of boiler room engineering. All I know is I’m full of holes and problems and it’s very dark below deck and my flashlight’s batteries are so low I can barely see anything. Someone has to come in with floodlights and far superior wisdom and capabilities.

During communion one of the songs was Jesus, Strong and Kind. I’ll end with the lyrics, which say all the things I most deeply want to say about the assurance that docking in His harbor is safe. It’s going to be okay.

Verse 1
Jesus said
That if I thirst
I should come to him
No one else can satisfy
I should come to him

Verse 2
Jesus said
If I am weak
I should come to him
No one else can be my strength
I should come to him

Chorus
For the Lord is good and faithful
He will keep us day and night
We can always run to Jesus
Jesus, strong and kind

Verse 3
Jesus said
That if I fear
I should come to him
No one else can be my shield
I should come to him

Chorus
For the Lord is good and faithful
He will keep us day and night
We can always run to Jesus
Jesus, strong and kind

Verse 4
Jesus said if I am lost
He will come to me
And he showed me on that cross
He will come to me

Chorus
For the Lord is good and faithful
He will keep us day and night
We can always run to Jesus
Jesus, strong and kind

Carolina February

 

Warm sun, cold air on the face

Blue sky, scudding clouds

Wind in the pines

Swaths of sky-eyed speedwell

Vibrant tiny blue gems set in the green grass

Rows of leeks, pulled into piles

Rich earth.

Which apple branch to prune?

Craning necks, handsaws, clippers, ladders

Gnarled branches, fire blight, leaf buds, lichen.

Red-shouldered hawk cries above

Crows call from high bare branches.

Spring peepers have begun their piping,

Unaware of winter’s looming return

on Wednesday’s horizon.

January Poem

Despite all the nonsense of now

I still have joy.
Despair, anger, wanting to hide-yes.
But here I am, with joy.
A hawk is loudly hunting his breakfast 
nuthatches hop down the damp fissure
on the shady side of the the maple trunk
just outside the window.
Bright morning winter sun travels
past blue sky and bare tree limbs 
lands on aloe, cacti,
geraniums, the unfinished wildflower puzzle.
The keyboard where Bach Invention No. 1
is open and waiting
for my fingers to practice seven sixteenth notes 
four eighths, right hand, left hand, again and again.
Gentle dog snores from nestled balls of black fur 
the clacking of keys, furrowed brow, hand stroking beard- how lucky I am that my husband is working from home, saying, “you can have the last cup”
of coffee in the french press.

Learning to be 46, interrupted by a titmouse

Upside-down titmouse says “hi!”

I am 46. That feels very weird. But I can't dispute it and I don't really want to. Maybe when I am 80 I will look back at this post and think "what an innocent young chicken I was then... and I probably am. But I feel changed in my bones, these last few years. They have been hard, sad, joyful, full of life and death years. My roots are growing deeper, searching for the streams deep underground to sustain me. I am leaning in instead of running away. I am more whole, finding pieces of myself back on the old paths where I tried to discard them in frustration and self-disgust and fury, parts of myself I didn't want and hurled into the woods hoping the passage of time would cover them with leaves and debris until they were just gone. No. as soon as I went looking, there they were, waiting for me, to be picked up and held tenderly. They are mine, and I shall learn to treasure these rejected pieces of me and let them grow in to my wholeness.

Today I woke up and didn't want to feel the way I felt. I wanted to feel happier and began a mental self-motivating routine when I stopped- and let myself be. It's okay for me to feel this non-happy feeling. If Jesus appeared in front of me the first thing I would do was cry, I think. Cry for hours, days, weeks. He is like the mom who comes to pick up the child from daycare who held it in all day and looked fine on the outside and completely falls apart with mom, who is safe. Yes, I would cry and cry and cry until all the crying was done, and then- "I will every tear from your eyes. We will do it together. One by one until they are all dry." 

I walk with my father and let him cry. Impulses to try to ward off the tears jump through my nervous system and I take a deep breath and remind myself there is no need to do that. It is okay to just let him feel what he feels until he doesn't need to feel that thing anymore. Just let myself be who I am- and allow him to be who he is, in this moment, right now. We are walking in strange, uncharted territory, this place where my mom no longer walks beside us, where she will not come. We can only go toward her, but each day and hour is closer when we will take the same path we saw her take with joy on her face. I think about that moment, the second time in my life I saw someone see that door into heavenly places open. The expression of pure delight, looking beyond this world, to a place our hearts ache to be when we catch the smell of it on the wind. 

I know that taking a walk with my father is a thing I will only be able to do for so long. That is a strange place to be. Existing in this in between, turned-upside down place of grief and joy that I know is only temporary, but a temporary that could last until tonight or a decade from now. 

I constantly have to allow myself to exist here and now, in this season where everything is changing and unfamiliar. The role I have held for the last 19+ years as a mother and adult daughter is changing. I am on a train where the scenery outside is transitioning to something very different and it makes me nervous. I find myself scanning the horizon of my acquaintances for older women who have been here already and might help orient me. Hah! A tufted titmouse interrupts the flow here by landing above my living room window and looking in at me upside down, this way and that. Then he flies around the corner to the other window and sits on the back of a deck chair and looks in from that angle. What is this place where the humans and dog beasts are gathered? He zips away and then lands again on an overhanging branch with a seed to eat while he observes our ways. I’d probably feel a lot better if I stopped sitting here scrunched up drinking coffee and went outside into the crisp air and observed his world for a while, briskly exerting myself in the process. In other words, a walk. Good day, sirs and mesdames, I must be off.

Waking up to the new President-Elect

 It’s a strange morning to wake up to such a divided nation that believes either it’s on the cusp of the golden age or the end of all things. 

I still believe God is good no matter what is happening in our bombed-out world obsessed with power and dominance. That’s the way the world works. We yearn for something different and yet we continue to participate in its ways.

Probably the thing I personally hate the most is when Jesus is used as a tool and his ways distorted to create a political Jesus. I don’t know Political Jesus. I don’t want to know Political Jesus. I want to run from him as far as possible. Political Jesus espouses everything opposite from the real Jesus. Political Jesus makes me want to run screaming and throw up. 

When God came to earth as a man, He chose poverty, small insignificant people, and actively resisted those who wanted to make him a political king. He invited people into a new way, offering to plant a seed of transforming love in their hearts that would grow into magnificent tree drooping with delicious fruit:

-Love for enemies, real love that seeks to understand, reach across dividing lines, heal wounds, love so powerful that it would die for this enemy.

-Desire to serve and come alongside people instead of trying to manipulate and control and use them.

-Willingness to accept grievous wounds and refusal to retaliate and take an eye for an eye.

-Hearts full of compassion for all the humans they see, especially the struggling outsiders, the poor, the foreign, the powerless.

If someone says they know Jesus and you don’t see those fruits growing in their lives (maybe slowly, maybe haphazardly!), they probably haven’t met the real Jesus. The seed He plants is a real seed that really transforms utterly.

I haven’t seen those fruits in the man we now call president. The vision of a powerful Christianity he offers is another version of Political Jesus. I’m not buying it. I’m not buying the idea that waking up to President Harris would save everyone either even if I personally would feel far more comfortable having coffee with her than Donald Trump. The world is going to keep on world-ing and thinking political power is the means to happiness. Jesus did not storm the halls of Rome and take the emperor’s seat. He had far more important things to do with people the empire laughed at and scorned. The Kingdom that He came to establish grows in hearts, not in seats of government, even if we dearly pray that those with the Seed in their hearts will sit in the seats of power. While it occasionally happens, doesn’t seem to be the norm. You’ll far more likely find a person with that Seed in their hearts doing normal or lowly and unglamorous things because such people tend to abhor power and do anything they can to stay away from it.

However, there is one thing I can do-  I‘m praying for all the people who have lost hope today and are living in fear and despair, that the Voice of beautiful peace that transcends world and politics will beckon their hearts into its rest. I’m praying for all those celebrating victory and imagining all America’s troubles are over today to hear the Voice that says His ways are not our ways, and that the only time He met with a king on earth was forced, where he was mocked and sent off for execution. And I will pray for our new president, too, that his heart hears the Voice, that he lets that Voice plant the transforming seed in his heart. Can you imagine what a shocking and crazy and beautiful thing that would be, if he suddenly became humble and loving and wildly compassionate and wise and discerning and loved his enemies? Let it be so, Lord. 

A Christian Manifesto for the 4th, Love Me

 

It’s the Fourth of July, and I would like to muse on the concept of freedom and living together in a free country. 

As most of you know, I am a passionate Christian and Jesus is the most important person in my life. I seek to think and act and love in alignment with who he is. 

However, as a Christian, I just don’t subscribe to the various “Christian” political movements that would like me to side with them in trying to create a more supposedly Christian culture via political means. While our country was indeed based on Judeo-Christian values, I don’t want to live in a “Christian” country or try to create some sort of theocracy. I want to live in a country where people feel completely safe, free and comfortable to live according to their own beliefs and philosophies even if my personal opinion of those beliefs and philosophies is that they are crazy or false or don’t align morally with my beliefs about the kind of lives God desires us to pursue in order to flourish and know him. We need basic laws that protect this state of things no matter who is in power. If your right to live as you see fit is not protected, then neither is mine, for surely the wheel will turn again and who is on top now will be on the bottom later.

Following Jesus wholeheartedly means embracing a lot of uncertainty and accepting that many of the things we read in the Bible are hard to understand and can be interpreted many different ways and that the New Testament especially is not a law book for structuring society, but a guide on how to profoundly and sacrificially love the people around us, no matter how vastly they differ from us.  The “Christian” movements that I see so vigorously trying to seize power right now out of fear that our country is going the “wrong” way- I don’t see anything about them that make me think they are about sacrificially and profoundly loving our neighbors at great personal cost to ourselves. That is the core of the gospel, the truth that all things lead back to in the Bible and the very foundation of who God is.

It’s not that I don’t think Christians should be involved in politics, it’s just that when we are, I think we need to consider the well-being of everyone in the country and not just whoever elected us. There’s lots of issues I am passionate about because they affect all of us. I think everybody has the right to clean air and clean water and corporations absolutely do not have a right to pollute the air and water and land that everyone needs for their basic existence. I am passionate about finding ways to compassionately protect the lives of the most vulnerable among us- from embryos and their extremely valuable mothers, through the whole life cycle, all the way to the very end of life to a person who doesn’t even know who they are anymore. I am interested in working on finding common ground with people who have vastly differing opinions on these complex matters and trying to find agreeable solutions. I want to build connections of trust and love with people who are really scared that my “Christian values” will literally harm them or kill them.  

There is so much more I could say. I rarely get involved in political conversations on social media or make comments about people’s memes and posts that just make fun of the other side. In fact, when I am tempted to, I feel a literal sense of a divine slap on the fingers… “nope, not where I’m calling you, Kirstie.” 

Even though opening the news is a bit terrifying, the state of the world is dreadful and this whole election is like a deadly circus, I’m not afraid. I believe God continues to work and fulfill his purposes, no matter who is in power. It’s the paradox at work that sometimes when things are the very worst the very best things happen, and sometimes it’s the very worst things that turn us into the best people.  Also, you know what? No matter what the national and international stage looks like, I know so many incredibly amazing people that just keep doing their thing day and day out, loving the people around them, serving in extremely hard places, having compassionate conversations with their “enemies,” seeking peace, heading right back into the fray even after they have been hurt and offended, criticized, and condemned, ready to love some more. 

I’ll end with a few examples.

My parents’ physician, Dr Todd Granger, who has cared for them in their season of great need better than any doctor I have ever known, with extreme integrity and attention any hours of the day or night, who still makes house calls when necessary, and at prices that are definitely not making him rich.

Jeremy Courtney, founder of Humanite, and the local teams bringing relief to people in the hardest places that are being bombed and terrorized, no matter what their political alliances are. These folks keep going back despite being bombed, shot at, threatened, and even killed.

The good people of my church, Holy Trinity Anglican, working together to serve the hungry of our community with our food pantry, and growing fresh produce in our giving garden. Welcoming anybody who walks in the door. Building relationships with and honoring the civil rights heroes of our town. Doing so many good things secretly behind the scenes that greatly cheer my heart when I find out about them!

A random new friend I made recently sitting at an advertising table outside her place of employment who just radiates friendliness and love, and I have since learned is exactly the kind of person that is ready to jump up and help you with whatever you could possibly need… despite growing up experiencing tremendous abuse, cruelty and trauma. 

My mom, who died last month, and remains the most inspirational human in my life, who loved lavishly, built friendships across many political, religious and economic lines, brought countless “different“ people into our home (foreign, needy, elderly, lonely, outcast, socially awkward), volunteered relentlessly in soup kitchens and programs helping the homeless find housing, programs serving kids and school teachers in Haiti, sponsoring children with World Vision and keeping up a robust correspondence with them, defending anyone she sensed was being bullied or mistreated. Who kept doing all of these things despite bad experiences with some people who tried to take advantage of her good heart. She kept going back into the loving battle… even when she had Alzheimer’s she displayed this kind of love in the midst of great personal suffering. Love was her default setting, a profound gift from the God she loved with all her heart.

This post may have wandered all around and i could write and write for hours about the people around me who shore up my hope in God’s goodness but I think I’m done for now. Take heart, there is much love in the world and light always prevails over darkness, no matter what the news is telling us or what new evil the world tyrants are plotting. Blessings to you on this 4th of July!

What it’s like when my mother is dying

 Note: I wrote this on March 1, and my beautiful mother left this world on May 20 with a smile and glory on her face. I will write about that in days to come. 

My heart aches and my mouth is like sawdust. My mom is dying.

Will it be soon? Will she have another turnaround and give us more time? 

We have been living in this season for over two years now, the season of the shadow of the valley of death. She has given us scares before. I have stood in hospital corridors with doctors telling me she may only have hours left, she's in sepsis, and then... she comes back to us. Each time diminished, but there.

Day by day they tell us there are the signs of death coming near, and I am so uncertain. I do not know what each hour might bring. She is eating and drinking. She kisses my cheek. She greeted my sister this morning- but is mostly silent, except for the pain when they move her. She might be fighting a viral illness or she might have a "terminal fever." She might have "mottling on her feet," but I think that's the way her feet have looked for several years- just elderly splotchy red and purple-veined feet. I look for pictures in my photos- do I have pictures of my mom's feet? Yes, there they are, bare, by the lake, 3 years ago, looking about the same as they do today.

I struggle with anger at the words I hear from the hospice nurses. I think I have found my equilibrium again and then they pull the rug out from under me again with this sign, or that sign- emotional whiplash. The fast moving storm-clouds breaking and blowing in again with sudden violent gusts of wind.

Yesterday in the car I listened to Dr Tim Keller preaching on Ephesians 6:16- 

"...take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one." 

He said that in times of seige, the flaming arrows come when you are storming the walls, and your enemies are standing above raining down fire to not just kill, but instill terror and fear that they hope will cause you to lose heart and retreat, as you see your fellow soldiers around you on fire, consumed by flames. Terror and fear, the cold chills of weakness and horror that incapciate and make you nauseous. The feeling that you want to run from. The horror and unbelievability of the reality of death.

But I must put up my shield and refuse to run. Roman shields were enormous- 5 feet long and 2 feet wide. My shield of faith is bigger. It surrounds on all sides and "can extinguish ALL the flaming arrows of the evil one." 

It doesn't change the fact that I am sitting in a battlefield with flaming arrows falling directed at me and it feels horrific to be here.

My shield means trusting that-

"when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." (Ephesians 6:13)

I am refusing to disbelieve the good words of my savior Jesus, spoken himself on the night before his death-

"My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." (John 14:2)

My mom loves Jesus with all her heart and she has spent the last 50+ years walking in his paths:

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death." (Rom 8:1-2)

"...if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you." (Romans 8:10-11)

"Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:34-39)

It is an incredibly hard place, this. I go through my days sobbing in the car, pulling myself together, going grocery shopping, making phone calls, doing the things I have to do. It is like wearing a weighted coat that makes everything harder, heavier, more exhausting. I wake at 4 am with the feeling of dread washing over me. 

"Praise the Lord, O my soul;
While I live I will praise the LORD.
Indeed, as long as I have my being,
I will sing praises unto my God." (Psalm 146: 1-2)

I no longer think that praising requires some element of joy, singing exultantly. There are times of praise like that, but this season, those words hit very differently. Today the words of this Psalm are words of clinging to a rock in a raging sea after a shipwreck. Words of refusing to lose hope in the truths I believe in. Words that I shout at the darkness because I will NOT be taken by it even though the woman that brought me into this world is getting ready to leave it, and my father, the man who loves her the most, sits at her bedside with his head on her lap. "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life," said Peter to Jesus, when things were getting very very hard and Jesus asked his closest friends if they would leave him too, like the others who couldn't handle the message of hardship and suffering they were hearing. No. There is no where else to go. There is no other "god" out there that can handle this mess, or a place I could run to that would make me feel better or that this world isn't what it is: beautiful but deadly and full of horrors, in bondage to decay and death. As long as I have my being, I will sing praises to my God, because THERE IS NO OTHER FREAKING PLACE TO GO. He is it. He is the only one that can comfort my soul, he has shown it over and over and over again. He is the only one that can strengthen me to get through this day-

when my mom is suffering

and my dad is weeping

and we prepare for the severing of earthly bonds

that have wrapped and surrounded my sisters and I

binding us together in love, 

this precious family

this stable mother-rock

turning to shale

He wraps my soul in love and holds me tightly. I will not fall because under the sliding shale of this grieving path is THE rock that doesn't shift, that is strong and unmoveable. My mom led me to this everlasting rock. She knew. Her one heart's desire for me was to see me on a rock that would not fail and I am here. I will be okay because I will stand. He has got me, no matter what flaming arrows are launched at my heart and soul.