Remembering Veterans

Remembering “The Great War”

“This is a war to end all wars.”—Woodrow Wilson.

I remember when we celebrated the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I, the Great War, the War to End All Wars. The war officially ended in 1918 on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. In 2018, at 11 a.m. on November 11th, or Veterans Day in the morning, bells tolled in churches all over the globe. Special programs about the war were held worldwide, most notably in England, Paris, and France, where the world’s diplomats met to commemorate the peace accord that ended the war.

grandfather Whaley

Both of my grandfathers served in the war and came home. I never heard Grandfather Johnson speak of his experience. The other, Grandfather Whaley, rarely talked about the war itself, but he had much to say about his experience in the army. He was born in what is now the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Going into the armed service was his higher education.

When I was in college, my grandfather wrote me weekly on his old typewriter, on which several keys often would stick. The lines of type were uneven. Every letter, however, was full of his army experiences and how he related them to my new life in college. He would remind me that book learning was not the most critical part of my new life. He believed the best lessons were found in the people I would meet and the places where I would travel. Almost every sentence ended with etc., etc., etc.

I kept every one of his letters. The girls on my floor in my dorm would gather each week to hear about his wisdom from his life experiences a half-century earlier in the army in World War I—and about his present life in small-town Virginia.

 My latest book, Letters from my Grandfather, is about my grandfather’s letters and my response to him now, over fifty years later.

Did I forget to tell you that my grandfather always enclosed a dollar bill with each letter?

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Meditations on the Labyrinth

Meditation on the Labyrinth

Guest Writer: Gary Kimmel

Chartres Cathedral

“The rhythm of the turns flowed into me as I found my pace and walked where the path would take me.”—Twylla Alexander in Labyrinth Journeys: 50 States, 51 Stories (Springhill, 2017).

A few years ago, we walked the labyrinth in memory of Les Hunton, a wonderful friend, a fellow singer in the bass section, and a person who always presented a positive attitude. We miss him.

Each time I walk the labyrinth, I come away with different thoughts. Tonight, the labyrinth blessed me with the following:

All Saints

• The paths we follow are a mixture of short, medium, and long. We spend most of our busy lives on short paths: grocery shopping, taking kids to school, and getting over a cold. But some are much longer: taking an extended journey dealing with a terminal illness. We can walk fast or slow but can’t avoid these different paths. So, it is our challenge to focus on our path, not the path we just left or the one coming up.

• Those who are also on their journey are not always on the same path I am. They may be on a path of a different length, or if they are on the same path, ahead or behind me. Consequently, they may not appreciate where I am in my journey, and vice versa. Therefore, I need to guard against judging their journey based on mine.

• My path is not better or worse than another’s. They will be different at a point in time, but not better or worse. All of us will walk these paths, but we will be affected in unique ways.

• Richard Rohr points out that there are two stages of life: building the ego and incorporating that ego into Creation. Likewise, as you enter the labyrinth, you must work a little to become contemplative. As you walk toward the center, this mood becomes a part of you. But when you reach the center, you are only halfway. At some point, you turn, retrace your steps in a wholly contemplative mood, and leave the labyrinth with a new/renewed perspective.

I look forward to my next journey through the labyrinth and what it will bring me.

Gary Kimmel

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Wisdom of Waiting

 Wisdom During Waiting

Manet fainting couch

“To the disciples who always asked for words of wisdom, the Master said, ‘Wisdom is not expressed in words. It reveals itself in action.’ But when he saw them plunge headlong into activity, he laughed and said, ‘That isn’t action. That’s motion.’”—Anthony de Mello.

There is a Greek myth about Psyche and Eros that best describes women’s growth into consciousness. The story is the basis for She by Robert Johnson and Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis. To reunite with her lover, Eros, Psyche is given several tasks. At the beginning of each task, Psyche collapses and weeps when she realizes it is insurmountable.

My image is Psyche lying on one of those old-fashioned fainting couches that every woman of means once possessed—with her hand turned palm up on her forehead, her eyes closed, and her head leaning backward on or off the couch. It is the feminine body language of surrender and stillness.

Instead of plowing directly into an arduous task before us, the feminine energy in us waits and rests. In the waiting, answers and helpers come that are entirely out of the box. They are genuine answers to prayer. Some would say these solutions are received from the Spirit of God within her. Helpers come from places she never imagined. 

This is wisdom: the action of waiting, stillness, especially before we are asked to do something we do not think we can do.

I remember waiting in an outer office before a difficult meeting with other physicians. At first, it upset me that I, this important person, had to wait! But, slowly, I realized the waiting was a gift, wisdom from a mysterious source. It was time to quiet myself, surrender to the moment, and be still before this challenging meeting. When I could do this, I carried with me the feminine energy of staying in relationship with those around me. This made all the difference.

We often find ourselves in a waiting period today. We wait in “waiting rooms.” We are waiting for new vaccinations. We wait for a cure for cancer and dementia. We wait for rain. We wait for rebuilding after tornadoes, hurricanes, and fires. We wait for all our children to be vaccinated and no longer hungry. We wait to spend more time with our children and grandchildren.

Macrina Wiederkehr1 suggests a way to honor waiting in our lives. She tells us to put “pause” on our to-do list several times.

All this can be seen as a precious time or an anxious time. We have a choice.

1Macrina Wiederkehr in Seven Sacred Pauses: Living Mindfully Through the Hours of the Day (Sorin Books 2008), p. 20.

Joanna Seibert. Joannaseibert.com