Home on a Sunday.......

We found a church home today after wandering through the offerings here in this part the Peninsula. We had gone to St. P's and the door was closed, inside cold and a few huddled in the huge space. The memories of this place wern't all bad, just conflicting as several years ago we had to bust the priest on some unpriestly behavior. He is still a priest in another church and we hope that somehow he was convicted of his strange behavior: talking of parishioner's sex life and offering to have a child with a lovely young woman. The priest was gay or whatever. We went to the Episcopal church in the town next door, two times and no one spoke to us except in the line leaving. Not who are you, how are you or why are you here. Lots of kids and lively atmosphere, but nobody spoke to us at the coffee hour. We used to go there. And then to St. A where we first went years ago when we arrived in the Bay area. The Great Litany was read, which is enough to turn off anyone just arriving to the Episcopal Lent, but despite that, we were home. The priest is someone we knew in Hawaii, and to be met with "Aloha" brought near tears. I had good memories of serving there, despite difficulties with a woman priest who was the interim, who had a problem with sarcasm, and perhaps other women at the altar. Today it was "Aloha" and all that the word meant: welcome, love, hello and we are doing the Great Litany. There were familiar faces who came up to us and gave us hugs - from remembering us of eighteen years ago. That didn't mean as much as the rest of the people coming to us in the Peace, and at the coffee hour. I have had not so much a love/hate relationship with the Episcopal church as one where my expectations of clergy and parish behavior was set to a higher standard than was perhaps realistic. It has never mattered that much to me that Bishop Robinson was gay, or that non-gays elected him, or that Bishops who did not like women clergy and gays forgot some of Christ's words and left the Anglican Communion. What mattered, all along was how people treated each other in the Episcopal church and there, we found behavior that was unfriendly, personal agendas, and politics. Imagine! Some could say that churches are the rock polishers of our society, or the social gatherings that support some spirituality, but damn, some of those rocks have held sharp edges. And there are just so many potlucks you can attend before you get fed up with pasta dishes.

Today,we didn't find any agendas, and felt at home. I had spoken to my son who is attending a Bible study group about personal spirituality, how it had to be vertical and not horizontal. That what one learned in Bible study had to resonate in a peaceful place within, not because there was consensus in the group, but that there was recognition on an individual basis. That the relationship with God was personal, not corporate. Well today, feeling at home, we felt some horizontal, corporate love, and from the Great Litany, an increase of grace, and were thankful

Road trip into the past

Pescadero Beach used to be a place where we would run the dogs, when we had Jake and Bailey and lived on the boat before. We found Jake in a truckload of puppies in Pescadero after eating fried artichoke hearts in a Greek restaurant. The town is tiny, a mile back from the ocean and surrounded by fields. You can't go to Pescadero without hitting Arcangeli Bakery - there are only about 6 stores in town, but this bakery is a must stop. You can get fresh, hot garlic and artichoke bread with the aroma in the store heavenly. We usually buy several loaves, but they don't always make it home. But, back to the beach. Notice the sign about no dogs. What is going on here? We stopped at many beaches along the highway and you got it, no dogs! We found Phipps Ranch behind Pescadero where I used to buy herbs and beans. They are still there, and the narcissus bloom in their driveway. I gave a bowl of these to a friend one year and they had to put them outside as they said they stink. As it is my birth flower, well - it is an acquired smell. Phipps has bins and bins of wonderful different beans, tactile and colorful. I probably have some of the original from years ago. Hope not. Evan and Janice were with us and were made aware of the history of our trips to Pescadero. Jake was given a loving name by Evan, in Jake's later years, that sounded like fart bag. Or such. The sea air was wonderful,
having sun after all these days of rain, magic. The fields were covered
in mustard, and the clouds were moving to heal the drought here in California. A winding, curving back road flows over the ridges back to the bay area, through redwoods and redneck areas of mystery. We stayed on the beach road, thinking good thoughts and remembering Jake and bad thoughts about all those beaurocrats who shut down the beaches from the "killer" dogs.

Surprise Reunions

Linda, Robert and Sha'ash on a rock that was covered during the storms. The sun finally came out after the week of monster storms in Santa Barbara. We found some beach at Loon Point, no signs about no dogs, etc and let them out for a run. Linda drove down and got Charleen and John on the phone, who surprise, moved to Pasadena and they drove up. My sons and their wives drove up from LA and we had a Hawaiian style lunch on Barbara and Dick's beautiful lanai. Well, a quick trip to Trader Joe's helped and cleaning out Evan and Janice's wine stash in their car. Charleen, Linda and I were in the same class for the Diaconate (look up Episcopal Church) and we three holy people, unh huh, gossiped about the church and who we all know. Charleeen and I were ordained a year after Linda and recently had an anniv. - 25 years. John is a priest and had a photo in his office in Hawaii of we three (the Bishop called us his

young turks, whatever that meant) at a restaurant in Waikiki: I was stretched out across John's lap, Linda and Charleen were kissing and hugging him. Somehow John got the pic blown up and framed in his office and when someone asked who the women were, he said: "Those are the deacons of the diocese of Hawaii."

He always wears his hat like that -

It was a fantastic day, and thanks to Trader Joe and Barbara's blue plates we managed to feast and drink and remember wonderful times. And created another wonderful time to remember.