Empathetic Imagination: Exploring the Interior World through Writing

Studying my notes from this weekend’s Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop in Oxford, Mississippi, is like taking a course in the art and craft of writing. In addition to the manuscript critique sessions, led again this year by Scott Morris, there were three “craft talks” and an informational session with publicist (and former literary agent), Stella Connell. And while I’m anxious to get to work making revisions to my novel-in-progress, “Cherry Bomb: A Tryptich,” I’m just as eager to share a few treasures from this weekend, so here goes.

Scott Morris has been living in LA for the past year or so, so he is, I think, qualified to speak to the immediacy that film and painting have, that isn’t perhaps as available to the writer. But he also spoke about the interior world that is best explored by the writer. Actually, he said that writing is “the only art that can convey consciousness.” [As an iconographer, I’m not sure I completely agree, since icons draw the heart and soul into a spiritual realm in a way that secular art does not. Henri Nouwen wrote that icons “are created for the sole purpose of offering access, through the gate of the visible, to the mystery of the invisible.” But I’m pretty sure Scott wasn’t thinking of icons when he spoke of art.]

A scientist will explain color as refraction of light, but a child will ask, “but where is the color red?” “Human beings see color. They participate in the mental life,” Scott said. “When they fall in love, the scientists say it’s a reductionist survival thing… but there is the thought—the idea of love.” He spoke of Faulkner’s advice that “the best writing is about the human heart in conflict with itself.”

He encouraged us to expand our palettes as writers, to “give a damn about people in the most incredibly sensitive sort of way” in order to show what the world looks like to that person, to that character. He called this “empathetic imagination.” His words here built on a foundation he laid with his talk back in 2008, “Learning to See and Write Sunsets.”

Every year at this workshop, we gather a few more tools for our writers toolboxes (more about that later in this post) and we study the “how-tos” of our craft. But every year, Scott seems to make us dig deeper, into the world we know and the world we are trying to paint with our words. Last year he spoke about
“The Writer’s Cross: Transcending the Existential Shorthand.”

Every year we’re on the edge of our seats, trying to expand our understanding of the task at hand. He quotes Tolstoy, who says we must have a fresh view of the universe. And Mississippi writer, Lewis Nordon, who says you have to locate the moral heart of your book and nail it. It’s about intimacy—about revealing the deepest sense of who someone is—and the good news is that the writer can often do this when no one else can, through skillful dialogue, story structure, and building momentum. The writer can “go where angels fear to tread.”

Sean Innis built on Scott’s words with his craft talk on Saturday, “Actually Writing: Inspiration, Creation, Revision.” This was my second time to sit at Sean’s feet—the first time was back in August of 2007, at the first Mississippi Writer’s Guild Conference. He’s a great teacher, and I hope I came away with a few more tools in my box. I think my best new tool is Sean’s wisdom about one of the most difficult parts of a book to write—the ending. Drawing from Aristotle’ “Poetics,” (Sean was a philosophy major) he said that every good drama must be both surprising and inevitable. You want to surprise the reader (I didn’t see that coming!) but not jar him out of the flow of the story. And when you’re not sure when to end the story, “give your characters one more day.” This keeps the plot moving. And when you finally say enough, don’t wrap everything up too neatly. “Good conflict resonates.” Even in the revision process, “good editing opens up rather than closes down the story.”

And then on Sunday morning Neil White’s talk on “The Art vs. the Craft of Creative Writing” gave us even more tools, tips and inspiration. (Neil has a terrific memoir out in both hardback and paperback now, "In the Sanctuary of Outcasts.")There was no need for Neil to apologize to Doug and me (which he did) because we had both heard him give this talk at the Seaside Writers Workshop last fall, because I could hear this over and over and always find something fresh to work with. I think Neil’s “cinematic scene machine” diagram is what’s staying with me the most vividly. He showed us how to create scenes using our brain, five senses, dialogue, description and action, but also how to separate out the “art” side of writing from the “craft” side. All that and more in 45 minutes! At one point during his talk, a workshop participant raised his hand and said, “Now this is what I came to this workshop for!” We all laughed. There had already been two full days of craft talks, critique sessions, and open mics, but the “how tos” that Neil presented were the tools this man had been waiting for all weekend. I think many of us felt this way during each event!

When I think back about the weekend, I realize that one thing that makes the Yoknapatawpha Writers Workshop special is the balance the faculty always brings—feeding both sides of our brains, arousing our psyches, filling our toolboxes, and inspiring us to do the hard work of sitting down and putting words on the page every day. I can never hear too much about voice—the personality that emerges through the telling of the story—and about the importance of every sentence, every word, which communicate the story. And for me, personally, having switched genres from memoir to novel since last year’s workshop, it was encouraging to hear Scott say that I’ve “gotten above the volatile material.” I’m not sure I could have ever done that with memoir (or certainly not as well as Mary Karr, Augusten Burroughs, Anne Lamott, Haven Kimmel and others have done it) so I’m excited to be moving forward with a piece of fiction.

Another highlight of the weekend was Neal Walsh’s reading (and signing) of his new book, The Prospect of Magic, at Off Square Books on Saturday night. After four years of learning from Neal at these workshops, it was such a joy to see his magic in print and to share in the celebration of his book.

Oxford author, Tom Franklin, introduced Neal, and the crowd hung on his every word during the reading. Kudos, Neal!

My fellow workshop participants are always a huge part of the weekend for me, and friendships are always formed (and sometimes writing critique groups) that last for years. I was especially happy to spend time with two other “emerging writers” I’ve met in the past few years, Keetha Mosely, from Winona, Mississippi, and Ellen Ann Fentress, from Jackson, Mississippi. Keetha and I met at the first Mississippi Writers Guild Conference in 2008, and Ellen Ann and I were both presenters at the Southern Women Writers Conference at Berry College last fall. Renewing these friendships in invaluable to me.

Coincidences often happen, but I didn’t see this one coming: Rick Ward and I ended up sitting next to each other during the workshop, and I discovered that he replaced my father on the Mississippi Charitable Gaming Commission when my dad died back in 1998. Rick’s book, The Lawmaker, is a fictionalized story of the corruption and coverup that took place (and still does) in the Mississippi casinos. I’ll save the juicy details for a later post when I review the book.




So now it’s back to work on the novel. Can’t wait to dive in and apply what I learned about the art and craft of writing this weekend, not only from Scott, Neil and Sean, but from my fellow participants. (a record 20 folks this year!) Their feedback is in valuable to me, as others striving with me to explore the interior world through writing, to learn to see colors and to show them to our readers. Here’s to you: John, Ellen Ann, Karen, Steve, Thomas, Gretchen, Oxana, Eli, Keetha, Donna, Meg, Rick, Doug, Ben, Clyde, Lesleigh, Patti, Corrine and Bobbie!

Middle Soul Food

I’ve been thinking about icons a lot lately, for a number of reasons:

One is that icons and iconography play a big part in my novel-in-progress, so the writing has stirred back up my love and respect for this spiritual art form. I haven’t written (iconographer’s term for painting an icon) an icon in over a year, having made a decision to “retire” from doing commissioned work and teaching workshops in order to have more time for writing essays, and hopefully books.

But then when I put together my application for the 2011 Seaside Escape to Create Residency, I included icon lectures, demonstrations, and even abbreviated workshops as part of my community service proposal. (Each artist, writer and musician who receives the one-month residency does a community service related to her work while she’s there.) The reason I did this, I think, is because of the role that iconography plays in the novel that I would be writing while I’m at Seaside for that month, "Cherry Bomb: A Triptych." It seemed a natural tie-in, and I hope I will be given the opportunity to carry through with my proposal.

And then today a friend came over and we were visiting and at one point she asked me how long it took us to collect all the icons that we have in our home. (She’s getting a new apartment and was thinking about where she might place them.) I told her that we’d been adding to our collection for over twenty years—some were gifts, some we got while on pilgrimages, and a few were hand-written icons that I had done. But the main thing, I told her, was to have a specific place in your home for the icons where you would pray before them. It’s okay to have icons on other walls in the house, but they aren’t just “decoration.” They’re spiritual art, with a spiritual purpose. Their beauty is not of this world.

After she left, I started thinking about this more. I got back out an article I wrote a few years ago and re-read it: “Icons Will Save the World.” What struck me as I read the words I had written when I was still actively writing icons was how far I have moved away from focusing on an important aspect of the icon—its spiritual beauty. This section of the essay pulled me back in:


SPIRITUAL BEAUTY

In his book Icons: Theology in Color , Eugene Trubetskoi said that the beauty of the icon is spiritual. “Our icon painters,” Trubetskoi said, “had seen the beauty that would save the world and immortalized it in colors.”

We are innately creative, because we are made in the image of a creative God. As the twentieth century-abstract painter Vassily Kandinsky said, we all strive to make “beauty and order from the chaos of the fallen world.” Our Creator has given us the freedom to do this, but sadly many artists and writers abuse this freedom. The results of that abuse are often pornographic, or at best self-serving exposes masquerading as art or literature.

Good secular art, music, literature, and architecture serve to refine and form our souls and make them better disposed to spiritual or liturgical art, music, literature, and architecture. In an essay called “Forming Young Souls, ” Fr. Seraphim Rose encouraged parents to expose their children to what he calls the “Dushevni Diet”—that which feeds the middle part of the soul. “The education of youth today, especially in America, is notoriously deficient in developing responsiveness to the best expressions of human art, literature, and music.” His premise is that people raised on such a “diet” would be better prepared to receive the higher, or spiritual foods. Perhaps they would have developed an appetite for the patient work of prayer, worship, and yes, venerating icons.

As I continue my work, whether writing essays, memoirs or novels, I hope that whatever I produce will fall into the category of “middle soul food.” I hope it will help my readers to develop an appetite for spiritual art. And I pray that my brush with iconography will help me to create beauty and order out of the chaos.

Pub Crawl

It's too hot to do much of anything today, so I thought I'd try to cool off with a favorite activity: a "pub crawl." Now I'm sure you midtown Memphis folks are thinking I'm walking up and down Madison Avenue bar-hopping like folks do on Saint Patrick's Day, but the kind of "pub" I'm talking about is publications... magazines and newspapers. So grab a cold one and click on any of the links below that interest you and join me in some LIGHT reading! (Or better still, subscribe to these excellent publications!)

The Oxford American Magazine's "Best of the South" issue is out, and full of work by excellent writers, several of whom I'm fortunate enough to call friends. Check out these pieces:

My friend and fellow Jackson, Mississippi, native, Ellen Ann Fentress, has a great historical essay, "Intimate Strangers," about Jackson authors Richard Wright and Eudora Welty, who were neighbors but never met. Why?




Ellen Ann and I met when we were both presenters at the Southern Women Writers Conference at Berry College in Rome, Georgia, last September. And we both had pieces published in the January issue of the Southern Women's Review.

Ole Miss poet, writer and creative writing instructor, Beth Ann Fennelly, has a great piece, "Ode to Ten Sexy Books," which you can actually read here.

Another Oxford writer, Jack Pendarvis, has a hilarious tribute to "almost odes" in "I Don't Hate It!" (I was fortunately to have Jack contribute to the critique process for two of my short stories in the workshops Barry Hannah led in Oxford last summer. Good writer and all-around great guy!)

My newest friend in the bunch, Ad Hudler (whom I met at the Girlfriend Weekend in Jefferson, Texas, this pat January) has an ecological/psychological essay called, "Are You a Tree Bitch" that's well worth the read.

An all-around great issue and must-read for the dog days of summer!

Moving on to another favorite pub (yes, I'll have another glass of Monkey Bay, please) I always enjoy Garden & Gun, with its beautiful photography and graphic design. And there are always great little literary treats tucked inside. In the June/July issue, I especially enjoyed "A Letter From Harper Lee," by Alice Randall. You can read the article here, but you'll be missing the feel of the paper this magazine is printed on, the smell of the ink, the gorgeous photography. I highly recommend a hard copy:-)

A much less literary but equally refreshing pub that I enjoy is Real Simple Magazine. I've been a subscriber since the first issue. Here's a cool treat in the July issue: (which doesn't have links up on its web site yet... they still have the June issue up--imagine that!)

On page 209, under "Cool Summer Sips," I found this recipe for Frozen Blueberry Lemonade that I'm dying to try:


In a blender, combine 3 cups ice, 1 1/2 cups blueberries, 1 cup lemonade, 1/2 cup fresh mint leaves, and 1/4 cup confectioners' sugar and purree until smooth. To make it a cocktail, add 1/2 cup vodka to the blender before pureeing. Whrrrrrr~ wish I had some blueberries and lemonade. And a blender:-)

Have a cool evening, everybody!

Cherry Bomb? Saving Mare/Mary? Tagged? CALL FOR TITLES!

A couple of weeks ago, in my post on "A Good Blog is Hard to Find," I sent out a CALL FOR NAMES for one of the characters in my novel-in-progress. It was both fun and helpful receiving all the comments on the blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and even a phone call I received from one enthusiastic supporter! As a result, I settled on "Mare" for the lead character (full name is Mary Katherine Henry at this point, but that's subject to change.) I had settled on "Emily" as the name for the abstract expressionist painter/professor, but I'm going to work "Mary" into her name somehow. (I actually have a plan for that, but it's part of the plot.) And the third character is historical: the fifth century prostitute-turned-desert hermit, St. Mary of Egypt.

And so here I am wrapping up chapter one and a page or two into chapter two, and I'm still feeling a little sluggish in my writing. I think it's because I don't have a TITLE for the book yet. I know the title could change during the course of writing the book, or in working with an agent or publisher, but somehow naming it will help the creative process, I think.

To that end, I just spent the morning looking over what I've written so far, and researching a few books and articles (including two of my own published essays) that deal with some of the subject matter explored in the novel, like:

iconography

spirituality

childhood sexual abuse

abstract expressionism

graffiti art

psychological, emotional, and spiritual healing


And so I've come up with a few ideas and would love your feedback, on these ideas and any new ones you might come up with! Of course I Googled all of these to be sure there aren't already published books with the same names, and I did find three that had already been taken:-(



The Girl With No Shadow by Joanne Harris (author of Chocolat)

Colors of the Soul by June McLeod (on color therapy and healing)

And the title I most wanted to use is "Cherry Bomb," which is a Jack Daniels thriller, so I wonder if I could use it anyway? Especially if I named it, "Cherry Bomb: A Novel," and it's in a different genre? (The reason I want to use it is because the graffiti artist in the book, one of the three main characters, uses "Cherry Bomb" to sign her graffiti tags, because the term "bomb" is often used to describe a graffiti piece, as in "the wall was bombed" with graffiti....)

So, here are the other names I came up with this morning. I know you don't know the whole plot (and I won't tell you) but I'd still love your input. DO keep in mind the three main characters all have "Mary" in their names. So, if you walked into a book store and saw a book with one of these titles, which one would you pick up, and why? Here goes: (in no particular order)

Broken Palettes
Splattered Images
The Hidden Palette
Tagged: A Novel (when walls and trains, etc., are painted with graffiti, they are "tagged")
Painted Stories
Painted Windows (icons are often called "Windows to Heaven")
Mary's Shadow (icons don't have shadows; and think shadows in a Jungian sense)
Saving Mare/Mary ("Saving Grace" is my favorite TV show)
Finding Mare/Mary (as in finding her authentic self)
Painting Mary (as in painting St. Mary of Egypt's image, her icon)


Please leave a comment! Thanks! Now, I've got the afternoon to clean up my writing sample for the 2010 Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop (June 18-20) where the first 12 pages of the book will be critiqued by faculty and participants, so bye for now. I'll check back later to see what you brilliant readers have come up with!

P.S. The bottom three images in this post are by contemporary graffiti artist, Shepard Fairey.

Godparenting

This past Sunday there was an article in the New York Times’ “Family Matters” column by Bruice Feiler titled, “The Godparent Trap.” Mr. Feiler gave a bit of history about the tradition of Godparenting in “the early centuries of the church,” but then focused the rest of his article on what happened not only after the Great Schism (1054) but mainly what happened after the Protestant Reformation (1500s):

“As Christianity splintered through the Reformation, each denomination handled the custom slightly differently—arguing over the number, the official duties, even the sexual rules governing godparents. … Over time, the role became less about church doctrine and more about friendship…. Godparenting, it seems, has always been more talk than action.”

The quantum leaps Mr. Feiler makes in three short paragraphs exclude completely what continued (and continues to this day) to be the sacred role of Godparents in the Orthodox (Christian) Church. And while his intentions are good—at one point he calls for “a new generation of godparents”—he goes on to make up three new “ground rules” for godparents: (1) Have many godparents for each child, to build a community. The old “it takes a village” concept; (2) Assign each godparent a specific task; and (3) Continue to add more godparents throughout the child’s life “as needed.” While these ideas might have some merit, from a sociological point of view, they are one man’s suggestions and not the tradition of the historic church. I think each of his rules are possibly answers to the various ways that society as a whole, and individual churches in particular, have failed to maintain healthy communities for their families. So, what is the Orthodox Christian’s answer to these problems?

To begin with, the Orthodox Christian Church has standing “rules” or guidelines that go back centuries. (Some of those guidelines are discussed in this web article, “Godparenting 101.” And while they vary a bit from one ethnic group to another (the Greeks might do some things different from the Arabs or the Russians, and the convert parishes may end up adopted a variety of expressions of these traditions) the intent, I believe, is common to all Orthodox jurisdictions: the Godparent takes spiritual responsibility for the child, promising to raise him in the faith, and to interact with him throughout his life in a way similar to a family member. It’s a high calling, and one not to be entered into lightly.

That said, it’s a bit scary for me to admit that I have 13 Godchildren. Two are no longer living, and those living range in age from 7 to 62. (When adults convert to the Orthodox Church, they have adult “sponsors,” who serve a similar role as a Godparent.) I’m sure I’ve failed many of them terribly over the years… sometimes forgetting a special day (Name days, birthdays, anniversaries, baptismal dates, etc.) and often just letting too much time go by without calling them to go grab a cup of coffee (the adults) or come over for dinner, or to accompany a child to a soccer game or ballet performance. But I do try to pray for each of them every day. (And yes, I fail at that, too, but when I do say my morning or evening prayers, I include them.)

But as we all get older and some of us make different choices about our church homes—some marrying into other faith traditions, others moving away or choosing not to participate to the same degree they once did in church events—I realize how important the family aspect of the relationship is. Just as I love all three of my own children no matter what church they choose, whom they choose to marry, where they choose to live, I also love my Godchildren in this same way. Do I wish they would all remain active in the Orthodox Church? There was a time when I would have said yes, unreservedly. But recently I’ve come to realize that what I want most for them—and what I ask God for in my prayers for them—is that they know that they are loved, by me, by their spouses, their friends, their pastors, their other Godparents, everyone who is significant in their lives. And that they know they are loved by God. Unconditionally.

I agree with Mr. Feiler when he says: “Before your godchild has to friend you on Facebook, be a friend-model of an old fashioned sort. Make a call. Make a date. Make a memory.”

And so I say to Mickey, Sarah, Damon, Madeleine, Damon, Hannah, Patrick, Katherine, Julie, Stacy, Sophie and Sue: please forgive me, and I’ll try to do better! And to Rose and Mary Allison (who are in Heaven): please pray for me. I love you all.

Call for Names

Hippie-love-child?

Orphan?

This little graffiti artist needs a name!

You can help!

Read my post over at A Good Blog is Hard to Find, and leave a comment there, please.

Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop: June 18-20

Readers, forgive me, it's been almost a week since my last post! (a record, I think) It was awesome being at the beach with my family in a beach house with no wi-fi, actually. So, I'll post a few photos at the end of this post and you'll see why I wasn't tempted to head into Seaside to the coffee shop to get on my computer more than once last week!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm gearing up for the Yoknapatawpha Summer Writers Workshop in Oxford, Mississippi, June 18-20. There are still a few spots left, so if you're a beginner or even an emerging writer, join us for a weekend of manuscript critiques, craft talks, catfish, beer, wine and fun! Info and registration forms are here.

For posts about the past two summer workshops check these out:

"The Writer's Cross: Transcending the Existential Shorthand," from 2009.


"Learning to See and Write Sunsets," from 2008.

What's so great that I'm going for my 4th workshop? (I didn't have a blog in June of 2007, so there's no post about the first one I attended.) The faculty is awesome, including our workshop director, Neal Walsh, (right) who teaches in the MFA program at LSU; Scott Morris, formerly in the MFA program at Ole Miss and now living in California, both published authors) and this year, Neil White is added to the faculty!

It's a small group (usually 10-16 participants) so everyone gets lots of personal attention. And friendships are formed that last for years.

So, I'm going to close for now and post some beach photos... and watch a new episode of "Saving Grace," which starts in 25 minutes, so here I go!

Three Degrees in One Decade!

We're at Seagrove Beach this week, with no internet at our beach house (a blessing, really) so this will be quick. Just wanted to celebrate our daughter, Beth's, graduation from the University of Tennessee's Master of Architecture program last Friday. We're so proud of her. Her dad and I, and her fiance, Kevin, attended the hooding ceremony, which was for the graduate and undergraduate schools of architecture, and the interior design students.

Lovely building (Alumni Memorial) with this awesome organ and pipes high up on one of the side walls. (Organ played during the processional and recessional.) really good speeches by students and faculty. Never a dull moment, really.









We're also celebrating Beth and Kevin's engagement! We love Kevin, and are thrilled to have him join the clan!







Brought to mind Beth's two previous graduations... in December of 2005, when she received her Bachelor of Science degree in Biomedical Engineering at UT...








And back in 2001, when she graduated from Central High School.










Yep, we're proud parents, and having a great time celebrating with her this week at Seagrove Beach, Florida, with her fiance, Kevin (a great cook, by the way! we're grilling out here....)






... and her two best friends from UT, Katie and Kiel.




Tomorrow our son, Jason, and his wife, See and our granddaughter, Grace, arrive for a few days.
I'm pretty much in heaven here:-) Watch for a more serious blog post next week.

Meanwhile, I've got my toes in the water, my .....

Faith, Energized by Love

When my mind isn’t completely absorbed with menial tasks or secular creative pursuits, when I stop, not often enough, to think about spiritual things, when I find the courage to be alone with my thoughts, to be honest about my doubts and fears, this nagging voice from somewhere deep inside often whispers and sometimes shouts: do you really love God?

Which pre-supposes that I really believe in God, as I say that I do. But does my life reflect this belief? It certainly doesn’t affirm a love for God, and only rarely a fear. St. Anthony the Great said, “I no longer fear God; I love Him.” I’m no saint. But I knew someone who loved God, and today she is on my heart.

This morning I was reading the Psalms with my morning prayers, nearing the end of the 40 days of prayer following the death of Esther Elliott Longa. Reading the Psalms always helps me with my doubts about God. In the back of my copy of The Psalter According to the Seventy, I have written the names and dates of loved ones who have died, and I often read back over those names and remember each of them when I’m reading the Psalter and praying for a newly departed friend. I also have a few copies of memorial brochures from funerals, including one for my dear friend and “unofficial yia-yia, Urania Alissandratos, I remember writing the text for that brochure, and including the following quote:

“He who loves God both believes truly and performs the works of faith reverently. But he who only believes and does not love lacks even the faith he thinks he has; for he believes merely with a certain superficiality of intellect and is not energized by the full force of love’s glory. The chief part of virtue, then, is faith, energized by love.”—Saint Diadochos of Photiki

And then I wrote the words, “Urania loved God.”

How do we know she loved God? Everyone who knew her saw His love in her life, in her vitality, even as she lived with cancer into her 80s. And not only in her faithfulness to the Church and its services, to the Orthodox aesthetic traditions of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, but also in her everyday actions. She would say the Jesus Prayer as she went in for a medical procedure. She spoke of God as though He were right there with her at all times, which He was, which He is.

This reminded me of Father John Troy’s homily on May 8, the patronal feast day of our parish, and his name saint, John the Theologian and Evangelist. Father John talked about a trip he took to Russia a number of years ago, and especially to the monastery where Saint Seraphim of Sarov had lived. He said the nuns there spoke of “Father Seraphim” in the present tense—as though he was still there with them—and he was. He is. Shortage of food? Just ask Father Seraphim. Personal problems? Just talk with Father Seraphim.

And then Father John made the comparison to our own patron, the Holy Apostle John, and what our relationship with him should be like. Do we live our lives as though he were here with us? In times of suffering, of need, of crises, do we turn—as naturally as the nuns at Diveyevo Convent did with Saint Seraphim—to Saint John for help? To the one who leaned on Jesus’ breast? The one known as “the beloved”? The one whose best advice was always, “Little children, love one another”?

If we believe the truths of the Church about eternal life (and really, why are we going through the motions if we don’t?) and the communion of the saints, why don’t we have a vibrant relationship with the saints for whom we name our churches, our children, ourselves. How often during the day, the week, the year, our entire life, do we actually talk with our patron saints? Our guardian angels? Oh, there are set prayers to each of these that pious Christians might pray with their daily prayers (and I do this very haphazardly, I confess) but in the midst of a battle with depression, a temptation to eat or drink too much, a sadness over a friend or family member’s misfortune, physical pain or illness, how often do I say, “Holy Mother Mary (of Egypt, my patron), help me” or “help my friend” or “help my marriage” or “Holy Saint John help our Church” or “give wisdom to our pastor, your spiritual son and namesake”? And in times of relative peace and happiness, how often do we say, “thank you for being with us, for this beautiful day, for my safe travels (which I actually thought to say yesterday, returning from a road trip), for my children’s good health, for the repair of the broken computer, for the recovery of the lost item”?

All this to say that if we are going to take our religion seriously (and if not, why bother?) it seems we must pursue these relationships with the most important people in our spiritual world—the saints. And of course the natural “next step” would be to have that ongoing conversation and relationship with the Mother of God. And with God, Himself.

As I enter into the writing of a novel—and one which includes much about the life of my patron saint—I hope I will not attempt this work without continually asking for her help. And I hope that in the process I will get to know her better, so that some day, when I meet her in Heaven, she will not seem like a stranger to me, but a friend and companion from my everyday life on earth. And also so that my writing will be true, and possibly even beautiful.

Holy Mother Mary, help me to love God as you do. Help me in my work, in my writing, in my marriage, in my family relationships, in my friendships, in my struggle with food and drink and all things earthly that weigh me down. You know I do not have faith. I do not love God. Sometimes I don’t even believe in Him. Help my unbelief, and beseech God to give me faith, energized by love.

Guilt-Free Mother's Day?

Southern women are born with it. We feel responsible for everyone. For everything. Maybe all women feel this way to an extent, especially mothers, daughters, wives.


Mother’s Day is this Sunday. My 82-year-old mother has Alzheimer’s and is confined to a wheelchair in a nursing home 200 miles away. The home is having a Mother’s Day Tea Sunday afternoon. But I was planning on visiting Mom on Tuesday. It just fits better with my schedule. And she won’t really know what Mother’s Day is anyway. And there will be refreshments and lots of children at the nursing home on Sunday to brighten her day, so really it’s better than I’m going on Tuesday when things are quieter and she’ll appreciate my visit more. I’ve mailed her a card and bought her a new blouse, which I’ll take to her on Tuesday, along with some cookies from McAllister’s Deli. So why do I still feel guilty for not visiting her ON Mother’s Day? Why have I felt, my entire life, that nothing I do is enough?

And now the city of Nashville is flooded (as well as parts of Memphis) and people are suffering immeasurably and what am I doing about it? Okay, we’ve contributed some money, but I’m not out there volunteering my time to help. Instead, I’m here, comfortable in my dry, air-conditioned home, writing, cooking steaks out (last night) and even going for a massage this afternoon. But what, really, are arthritis and fibromyalgia compared to the loss of homes, cars, and even lives? (By the way, this tragedy has been unjustly ignored by the media. Here’s a good video that shows more of the story.)

Next Friday we’re going to Knoxville for our daughter’s graduation (Master’s of Architecture) at UT, and then we’re taking family and friends to Seagrove Beach, Florida, to celebrate for a week. My mind is concerned with the safety of the interstate at we travel around Nashville en route to Knoxville, and about the quality of the water at the beach following the oil spill. Will there still be an abundance of fresh seafood? And again, I feel guilty for even having these concerns in light of the tragic impact of the flooding and the oil spill on the lives of so many. We’re looking forward to having our son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter fly over from Denver to join us, as well as our future son-in-law and our daughter’s two best friends from college. It will be a special, important time for our family. And yet, I keep thinking about how the money could have been spent to help the flood victims. I remind myself that Jesus said, “the poor you always have with you, but me you do not always have.” A difficult passage.

I remember back in September of 1998, when my 20-year-old Goddaughter, Mary Allison, was killed by a drunk driver, one week before one of her dear friends was to be married. Mindy, the bride-to-be, (and a sweet Southern woman) talked about how guilty she felt, celebrating her wedding day while everyone was grieving Mary Allison’s death. But isn’t life like that? Won’t there always be tragedy and joy, juxtaposed against each other throughout our lives?

How are you spending Mother’s Day weekend? Are you volunteering your time to help the flood victims, like these friends of Kathy Rhodes, my writer-friend in Franklin? Are you sacrificing money you’d like to have spent on pleasure, or choosing to celebrate your children’s graduations, weddings, births, and other joyous milestones of life this weekend?

Are you visiting your mother, or sending her a card or taking time to call her on the phone? May we all find peace in knowing that we are doing what we can, and no, it’s never “enough,” but it is what it is. And life goes on. So, Happy (Guilt-Free?) Mother's Day to all mothers, and congratulations to the graduates and brides and grooms, like Caitlyn and Brandon Maas (in the photo) who are honeymooning in Savannah! Many Years!

Triple Threat: Times Square, Memphis, Gulf Coast

Rarely is my family impacted so directly by diverse world events the way it is today:

Flooding in Tennessee: We left Memphis on Friday, and Saturday tornadoes, winds and rain threatened the state and our city, with resulting flooding, loss of life and homes. Thankfully our home in midtown is safe, as are most of our friends' homes. I almost felt guilty arriving in New York City to beautiful, sunny weather. Safe and sound here, right? And then...


CAR BOMB IN TIME SQUARE: Last night as we were walking to dinner with another couple, we walked just a couple of blocks past the spot where the car bomb had just been discovered on Times Square. We didn't know what was happening as we enjoyed dinner at Nougatine in one of Donald Trump's buildings, on Central Park. We assumed the crowds we saw, and even the flashing blue lights, were just business (and entertainment) as usual. Back in our hotel room around 10:30 we saw the news and drew breaths of relief and said prayers of thanksgiving that the bomb didn't completely detonate and we were safe. We were also thankful that we weren't staying in a hotel on Times Square this year, since the guests were evacuated for 10 hours while we slept comfortably in our room a few blocks away. But I wonder how far-reaching the damage from that bomb would have reached? In the meanwhile, I had been looking forward to our beach vacation (in 13 days) when the next event happened:


OIL LEAK ON GULF COAST: Yes, we've had a beach house rented for months at Seagrove Beach, where we plan to celebrate our daughter's graduation (Master's) from the UT College of Architecture. We've been excited to have our son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter fly down from Denver for the event, as well as our future son-in-law, and Beth's two best friends from college. And now we wonder how the oil leak will impact our vacation. Will the water be icky? Will there still be fresh seafood available? And then I feel almost selfish even having these thoughts, since the tragedy will impact the lives of fishermen, shrimpers, and the hospitality industry (and beyond) all over the coast. We don't plan to cancel our plans, not only because the refund is non-refundable, but because we want to support the hospitality industry there. We're just hoping for some clear water and fresh fish, and mainly a great time together with our family.

So, today, I've spent the morning in my hotel room, reading, watching the news, and posting on Facebook... slower to get back "out there" after these events. I had a great afternoon Friday... riding a rental bike through Central Park for two hours (yes!)... and yesterday, I took the subway to Washington Square and enjoyed walking, brunching, and shopping in the Village and Soho before catching the subway back to our hotel around 5 p.m. Today I'm wanting to stay closer to the hotel, where my husband is speaking at the 25th Annual Scientific Meetings of the American Society of Hypertension. But it's hard to be here and not get "out there." Hmmm... maybe I'll go for a walk up Madison Avenue and check out the latest fashions. Or just find a sidewalk cafe where I can read and write and watch the people. Whatever I do, I'll be thinking about and praying for friends and family impacted by the floods in Tennessee and the oil leak in the gulf... and the near miss of the car bomb a few blocks away here in New York City.