Family

Guest Blog: Everything I Needed to Know for the Pandemic I Learned in Kindergarten — Creativity

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As I ask friends how they are getting through this strange time, a lot of them talk about going back to things we did in Kindergarten: drawing, painting, making things out of clay or wood — the stuff we often call “art.” (Soon, I’ll share something for those of you who, like me, don’t turn to these practices.)

Recently the Rev. Nancy Talbott wrote a letter to her congregation about how to take these practices deeper.

Nancy is pastor of The Congregational Church of North Barnstead in New Hampshire. She is also my sister. (Yes, it’s probably genetic.) Nancy not only writes, she makes music, draws, bakes, and builds congregations. She and her husband, Steve, have put two families together to create an amazing three-generational tribe. 

Nancy gave me permission to republish her letter here: 

Dear Friends,
The other day I was in a conversation with friends about how they are using their time during this Covid-19 summer.

One shared she was crafting and the other shared they have been doodling and coloring as a way to relieve stress and anxiety.

The coloring craze has been around for a number years now, and we can find adult coloring books everywhere, however, this conversation reminded me of a prayer practice I took on a number of years ago, after reading a book called, Praying in Color: Drawing a New Pathway to God, by Sybill Macbeth.


This practice is meditative, creative, and opens our communication with God. You can practice this anytime, however, it is an intentional practice, so turn off the 24-hour news cycle and find a comfortable, quiet place, a cup of tea or coffee, and begin!


All you need is a pencil or pen, and piece of paper. You can get fancy and pick up some colored pencils and a special pad of paper or a journal, however, the point is not to do too much planning…just begin.

Start with a name of someone you want to include in prayer, or maybe your own name. Draw a shape in the middle of the page, and write the name inside it, then draw another shape, and connect the two with a line. Or place God, Jesus, or Christ in the center and expand out with names or feelings, from there. There are no rules, the point is to relax with yourself and God for whatever time you want to spend.


You can also do this with a short piece of scripture as a Lectio Divina meditation. Here is a link for instructions on how to do this: Praying Scripture – click here


I have included some images at the end of this reflection for ideas. I have also included a link where you can find templates to print, however, I think the circles and curly-q’s you draw yourself will be better than any template.


This Covid-19 world is stressful and brings on so much fear and worry about things we cannot control. Praying in color, or just in black and white, can activate our right brains where compassion and creativity wait for us to participate, relax and grow.


When our hearts and minds are praying about ourselves and others, the perfect love of God enters our space and casts out our anxiety and our fear.
See you in worship!

Your pastor,
Rev. Nancy
Praying in color templates click here

What I have Learned from My Father Since He Died

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“When is Dad’s birthday?”
 
I’m embarrassed that I just sent a text to my brother and three sisters asking that question.
 
His birthday always fell near Father’s Day. We combined the celebrations. So, the exact date never stuck with me.
 
We celebrated Mom’s birthday in February and Mother’s Day in May. He never complained that we did not do for him what we did for Mom.
 
Why? I wondered.
 
Thinking about that question helped me learn  from my Father since he died.
 
I learned a lot from my father when he was alive, of course. I learned how to hit a nail with a hammer.  I learned to drive a tractor. I learned to work hard.
 
All of those were important. But the things I have learned from him since he died may be more important.
 
How can we learn from people after they die? What can they teach us?
 

  We learn about the art of living by reflecting on our parent’s lives.

 
You can look at your own image reflected in a mirror and ask, “who are you?”
 
 You can also see your parents’ lives reflected in the mirror of your memory and ask, “Who are you?” If you do that, you will learn more about the art of living.
 
Looking at ourselves in a mirror, we may lean in to shave or apply makeup. We may stand back to see if we are dressed properly.
 
What I learned from my father from the way he handled his birthday and Father’s Day comes from leaning in to look at that one detail. When I step back I see it as part of a pattern. It was one example of a man who accepted life as it was. He accepted the responsibility of supporting five children. He accepted the long hours of running a dairy farm. He accepted the fact that a June 18th birthday means it always lands close to Father’s Day.

I learned that being religious can be more important than being “spiritual.”

 
My Dad was religious in all the ways that people now say they are not. He went to church. He read his Bible. He wore his suit and tie to church and made sure his shoes were shined. When I was a kid, he was not tolerant of people who did not do those things.
 
Some would say that’s not very “spiritual.”
 
But he was also religious in the way Rabbi Abraham Heschel used the word. He wrote:
“A man becomes religious when he stops asking, ‘What do I want from Life?’
A man becomes religious when he starts asking, ‘What does Life want from me?'”

Seminary didn’t teach me about that kind of religion. My father taught me by milking the cows every day. I just never realized it until he had been dead for ten years.

 

I learned what to keep and what to throw away.

 
In some ways, our parents deal us the cards that we play in life’s poker game. The trick is to figure out which cards to keep and which to throw away.
 
I see now that my Dad taught me that I could throw some cards away.
 
My grandfather was a smart man and a good leader. He, too, was a dairy farmer. But, he took on leadership roles that meant days away from the farm. He did many good things for his larger community that my Dad was proud of. But my grandfather often left milking the cows to his wife and son.
 
My grandfather passed the leadership card to his son. Dad was active in his church. He served on the Town Board. But, one day the local Republican leaders walked back to where we were working in a field. They asked him to run for Supervisor. No one else would oppose him. The job was his if he wanted it.
 
He turned them down precisely because he did not want to be away from his family that much.
 
Years later, Jacquie said to me, “You are teaching your son to drive like your father taught you.”
 
“Ouch!”
 
I wish I were more like my father in some ways, but both Matt and I were happier when I decided to teach him to drive my way.
I only realize now that my Dad taught me to throw away some of the cards he dealt me.  

We can learn some things only after someone has died.

 
Neighbors paid my Dad to build kitchen cabinets and weld their broken farm implements. When I was growing up, he spent his winters remodeling our old farmhouse. I watched and later helped him with carpentry and electrical wiring.
 
You would think I would have grown up with a lot of skills.
 
When I caught on quickly, my Dad was a great teacher  My head was fast. He taught me how to use Ohm’s law long before I took Algebra.
 
But, my hands were slow. You won’t believe how long it took me to learn to hit a nail with a hammer. That tried his patience. My head and body had no connection.
 
He said, “You can remember anything you read in a book, but you can’t remember to turn a screw left to loosen it.”
 
As an adult, I felt anxious when faced with simple household repairs. I felt my father looking over my shoulder, exasperated by how long it was taking me.
 
But, after he died, I’ve been able to look at how things go together.  I can figure out how to install a ceiling fan or repair a lawnmower. I am able to relax when I ask, “How would my Dad do this?”
 

We learn things that cannot be put into words.

 
I can’t tell you everything I learn when I reflect on his life.
 
I see him in my memory’s mirror . . .
 
. . . getting up before dawn and going to the barn when I know he has the flu.
 
. . . putting my young mother and  two little kids on the back of a tractor and taking us for a ride through the woods just for fun.
 
. . . spending Saturday morning fixing the neighbors’ freezer so they don’t lose everything in it.  A loss they can’t afford. Then waving off their offer to pay.
 
I am at a loss for words when I reflect on the most important things I have learned from my father since he died.
 
The most important things we learn from our parents cannot be put into words.  Although the poet, Robert Hayden, may come close when he says his father taught him about  “love’s austere and lonely offices.”
 

I learned to honor my father and my mother.

 
There are only two of the Ten Commandments that say “Thou shalt” rather than “Thou shalt not.”
 
One is “Keep the Sabbath.”
 
The other is “Honor your mother and your father.”
 
“To honor,” does not mean “admire.”
 
It means much the same as what I mean when I say, “I’ve learned a lot from my father since he died.”
 
By reflecting on our parent’s lives, we see the cards they dealt us through their genes and their examples. We learn which cards we want to keep, and which to throw away.
 
We also see the mystery of our own existence.
That may be the primary thing I am learning from both my parents in this Third Half of Life.
 
When I was young, I needed the kinds of things that they could teach me when they were still alive. How to walk and talk. How to use a knife and fork. How to get up in the morning and when to go to bed at night.
 
Now that I am old and they are gone, I am learning wonder.
 
I remember walking with my Dad from the barn to the house on a cold winter’s night. He pointed at the stars spangled across the dark sky. Millions of them. He talked about how the light we see started hundreds, thousands of years ago. I remember the wonder in his voice.
 
This memory and so many others teaches me reverence for the Mystery behind the existence of the universe, and my own life.