It was already past 7:00 and well past the time to make dinner, but my daughter and I paused for a minute to watch the patterns cast on the dashboard by a rainy windshield.

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How often I suppress my curiosity because there’s “something else to do.” A minute wasn’t long enough for either of us to discover what the rain had to show us.

A day late…

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A couple of pages from my art journal, where I joyously dove in to three quick pieces this weekend.

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I never realized this truth until I started singing this song.

Today’s word is love. My family and I are at an annual camp weekend for LGBT parents and their children. Love overflows here: people rocking others’ babies and their own, friends reunited, couples getting some time alone while their kids have camp activities, strangers playing word games together and getting up from the table as friends, everyone singing.

And then there are quiet moments of connection within the crowd, like V braiding a Valentine sparkle into her wife N’s hair (shared with their permission).

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Today’s word: humility.

“To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed . . .”

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K. L. Allendoerfer at A Thousand Finds is also undertaking this practice, in a relaxed way that I will try to emulate. Lovely!

Today’s word: quiet. Just behind me as I took this photo was a road circling Lake Tahoe, and behind that was the bustle of the family camp I’m enjoying this weekend. The trees, snow and moon seemed to exude a quiet that blanketed all of that.

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I was just wondering whether I should have a Lenten practice this year, when the UUWorld popped up in my e-mail inbox with an article about #UULent, a photo-a-day practice. Something I know about myself is that 47 straight days of anything is very challenging (Lent practices of privation skip Sundays, but this practice continues through Sundays, with a twist). However, if I only hit 30 out of 47, that will be 30 days of attention to a spiritual matter.

Today’s word is mindfulness, and the internal process that occurred when I saw this outside a restaurant window today exemplified . I saw the light coming through these leaves and two thoughts came into my mind simultaneously:

How beautiful!

It’s a geranium, and I don’t like geraniums.

I have a category in my mind–geraniums–and a judgment about it–I don’t think they’re beautiful. Mindfulness allows perceptions in (“How beautiful!”) that don’t fit in my categories, and even challenge them.

2016_02_10 lent 1 mindfulness

So I am beginning this season with gratitude for this geranium, the sun, and the prompt from creators Mr. Barb Greve, Karen Bellavance-grace, and Alex Kapitan to consider mindfulness with my camera. I also want to express an extra thank you for giving me a gentle way out of a long dry season of blogger’s block.

If you care to join me, I’ll be posting daily on Twitter @AmyZMorgenstern (hashtags #UULent, #UUCPA) and also on Facebook–please connect there, or in the comments, and I’ll look forward to seeing your photos–whether one or 47.

Look at that–I never posted last year’s Christmas Eve homily. Probably because I came home tired that evening, wrapped a few more presents, woke up to a lovely Christmas morning with my wife and daughter, and then traveled with them all over California visiting family, friends, and Joshua Tree National Park.

It was called “Come, Emmanuel” and it stands up quite well to re-reading one year later.

This business of educating a child in the meaning of consent takes longer and is more complex than I realized. Mookie is now eight and I almost felt as if I didn’t need to raise the issue the other day, but I’m glad I did.

We’d had a “jinx!” moment, saying exactly the same words at the same time, and for once I won: I said “Jinx!” first and so she, playing the game according to her rules, said, “What do I owe you?”

I said, “A kiss!” and she kissed me, as she does a dozen times a day, cheerily. Still, I thought, “Hm . . . ” and we had this conversation.

Mama: It’s just a game, of course. You never owe anyone a kiss.
Mookie: But I want to kiss you.
Mama: I know . . .

(I was tempted to leave it here but a certain nagging feeling said “Carry on . . .”)

Mama: . . . but if you ever don’t want to kiss me, you can say no.

(This is when I was really glad I’d heeded the nagging feeling, because the next thing she said was:)

Mookie: But that might hurt your feelings.

(AHA! Oh no! And oh yes! This is a Teachable Moment[TM]!)

Mama: That’s true. But my feelings aren’t as important as your choice about what you do with your body.

Mookie looked a bit disturbed and very thoughtful about that idea. Clearly, this crucial point had not totally sunk in in the first eight years of affirming that “no means no” whether she’s the would-be touch-er or touch-ee. Clearly we are going to have to keep teaching it, not just in actions but in words, as time goes on.

This aspect of consent was so hard for me to believe long into my adulthood–it still is, sometimes. “But that might hurt someone’s feelings”: an important consideration as we make many of our choices, yes, but not a reason to kiss someone, let someone hug us, say yes to a date we don’t want, stay in a marriage that is making us miserable . . .

Girls and women are particularly vulnerable to this pressure, and particularly around romance and sex. Every year at prom time, there’s a story of a boy becoming angry and humiliated because he got a “no”; women repeatedly experience men’s lashing out at them for turning down an invitation to go on a date; and every so often, it ends in murder. Girls are accused of “humiliating” someone who seems to have asked a private question in public partly in order to make it harder for them to say no. There are girls saying yes to dates they don’t want so that they don’t “hurt his feelings.” There is an entire movement of men convinced that they deserve romantic relationships simply because it makes them feel bad not to have them.

We frequently teach women that they are responsible for soothing men’s feelings, at considerable cost, and we frequently teach men that they are not responsible for their own feelings, but should blame “the person who made me feel this way” when they are unhappy or disappointed. The worst results are abuse, rape and murder. The less extreme results are poisoned relationships.

Yesterday I had the great honor of preaching the sermon at the ordination of, as we may now call her, the Reverend Pam Gehrke. The sermon means a lot to me, and I’ve posted it here.

I want to thank Pam for the invitation, and Sally Ahnger, Sarah Moldenhauer-Salazar and Rachel Anderson, who added a great deal to the details just by being honest. The sermon is dedicated to Dan Kane and all the saints who from their labors rest.

And my wife, Joy, is just the kind of editor I need: a close reader who brings up small and large matters, who honors what I want to say whether or not she agrees with it, and who knows me well enough to say when she doesn’t think what I wrote is what I really believe, and be right. She made this a much better sermon. Thank you, sweetie.

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