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Click here to see some photos from Kendra's sabbatical.
I am on Sabbatical through the end of the church year. My plans are based on spending a lot of time with my spiritual practices: yoga and writing. I see more and more that such practices, our day-to-day, week-to-week disciplines that change our lives and change the world. So, I will be spending many hours with these two practices that open my mind and heart. I will share some poetry with you from month to month in this space.
I will also be reflecting on the questions the Board asked me. And I hope that you will be reflecting on the questions I asked you in the final service:
What is going well at FUUSE? (there are many things that have been going well for a while or are going well very quietly, this is a good time to notice these)
What is the deep purpose of this congregation — for you? for the congregation as a whole? The world beyond our walls?
I will be visiting at least three congregations to learn from them about ministering to a changing congregation. I will also be working on an Adult Religious Education curriculum about how people of various religious backgrounds come to understand Unitarian Universalism. I look forward to trying out that course with you in the fall or winter!
I have also set up many chances to reflect with colleagues and other people with a perspective on ministry. Sabbatical is a time to turn things over and see things differently, a time to re-imagine . It is in that spirit that I share this poem with you. It’s not a new poem, but one I am revisiting as I begin my writing time.
Totems
the hand is the giver’s hand
when feeding the untamed horses
of children’s dreams
keep your palm open, flat
the spiral
is my grandmother
my mother
and me
unraveling into the world
and spinning back to each other
and the fish
the fish is me
small-eyed and wondering
bobbing just below the surface
the round faces
in a row, brighter than life
one to shine, one to watch over
and one to squint into the distance
Some additional poems from Kendra's pen follow
Fish Inside
It’s a strange thing to have a fish living inside me.
It mostly swims contentedly
around the edges of this warm tank,
looking out my eye,
twitching down the narrows of my fingers,
disappearing in the far end of the pool,
leaving quiet ripples.
And stopping sometimes
in the center of my chest
leaping
swinging its strong tail as if leaving
the water
writhing, eyeing the horizon,
and plunging back.
Naming in the Meadow
It is this
The voice says
It is this
and nothing more.
From here it is a steep path
but the steps themselves can be accounted for.
We are strong enough to be our own guides.
An oak walking stick, boots to protect the ankles,
things have names so we can tell them apart.
But late in the afternoon the older woman lay down
in the field, the grass was soft and she was tired,
sun on the hillside,
the world seemed strangely kind.
She woke because the deer were leaping
leaping over her – the uneven patch in the meadow.
One deer stopped,
curious about this Breathing thing lying in their meadow,
turned its round eyes on the woman.
And the Breathing thought to herself,
yes, it is this
it is this and
something more.
The path from here is steep.
But I have seen a deer’s pale underbelly, heard the snort
seen it blink
and I wish I knew its name
because it could tell me apart.
The Chimney Swifts Are Everywhere
The chimney swifts are everywhere,
swinging through the air, piping their flying song,
The yard glows green in the evening light through the trees.
I hear the neighbor children
laughing in their kitchen, safe and easy.
The quiet of this after-dinner hour
is so convincing
it is impossible to believe
in war or the motive for war.
Photos from Kendra's sabbatical
Click on a photo to see a larger image.
March
St. John's, Virgin Islands
  
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