Life changes and new normals. Histories and futures. Habits and adaptations. The old and the new… Everyone goes through them in one way or another, at one time or another. No escaping it. It is life and it is death. But IMHO, more importantly, how our transition goes afterward is determined by how we choose it to be. And perhaps one of the biggest challenges we face while trying to find our way forward is how to help those who love us know how we’re doing!
When my wife died we had been together for 42 years. That’s 2/3 of my entire life! My story is our story. My experiences were our experiences, for the most part. Who I am reflects much of who we were! Undeniably, her departure left a huge void in my life. Nothing would ever be the same. Two became one, like it did when we were married, but yet not at all like that. There were schedule changes, chore changes, decisions to make solo, and more questions for myself than I had prepared for to date. We had never imagined we would be able to marry but it happened. So then I just thought I’d be married forever. We knew that it was more likely that she would pass away before I did but the first time I realized that I wasn’t married anymore was a stunner. Suddenly I was a widow. I didn’t even know what the hell that looked like.
About a month before her passing, Di asked me, “When something happens to me will you find someone else?” Now just what the hell do you say to that? I asked her if there was anything in particular that made her think about that. She paused and said, “I only want you to be the happiest you can be. You haven’t been able to do all the things that we wanted to do or that you wanted to do when you retired. And I don’t want you to think you have to stay alone when I’m gone. I just want you to live your best life.” So with that context in place I responded that yes, there were things that I had wanted to do when I retired, and there were things that we had planned that I still wanted to do. And, as for the “would I find someone else” part of that scenario, I replied that I didn’t have a magic ball and didn’t know if, or when, I might be presented with that consideration. But I did continue that thread. I said that I was eternally thankful for the life that we had had, the easy and the hard times, the good and the bad times. And if I found myself presented with an opportunity to share love in a meaningful way I would be discerning but I would not run away from it. I just couldn’t see where anything was going at that point so I had never thought about all of that before.
I am truly blessed to have the most amazing families (yes, I said families, plural, intentionally) and friends! I feel so incredibly loved. I do wish that everyone could know how amazing it feels! They have celebrated life’s joys with me and they have held my hand when it was hard! I am forever grateful for them all!
So, the point of this epistle was to speak to what I think often becomes the biggest challenge during times of transition- being grateful for love and support, while letting those who love us know how we’re doing. I meant it when I said that what happens to us after loss is up to us. We choose how to spend what is left of our time on this earth. We choose life or we choose death (essentially). We write the script for our next adventure and we write the ending for our life story. I chose life. And, in my mind, to do otherwise doesn’t honor the life I’ve had and it certainly doesn’t give back for the love and support I have been given. I’ve said before that when Di got her wings and left this earth she also gave me mine, to live, truly and fully. That’s just what I’m trying to do.
I recently spent Thanksgiving with one of my nieces (in-law) and her family. We hadn’t seen them in a few years and this was the first time I had been with them since Di passed away. As always, friends and family expressed lots of love and support for me making the trip in all the right ways. But in almost every case, part of the conversation included things like “I know this was so hard. I can’t imagine how hard that was. I know you miss her so much. Was it too hard?”, and the like. I didn’t feel bad about their questions or comments, and I’m so thankful for the love and care that I get from everybody who loves me. But I was reminded of the challenge of making sure people know how you are actually doing so that they aren’t put in a position of trying to be supportive but, because they don’t have clarity, may find it awkward and not know what to say. There is always the chance that some people work under the assumption that “how YOU are doing” is just the same as how they think that “THEY would be doing.” We all have our own threshold for dealing with loss. No judgement, just an acknowledgement. That being said, part of the challenge includes feeling a need to justify my response because my answer might seem cold to some. What I wanted (and tried) to say was “It was absolutely not hard or sad! It was joyful and fun. She WAS there. We brought her there. We spoke her name, told stories, and laughed.” I’ve had an amazing life. It does not make me sad to remember. My memories make me smile. So I think I need to replace the use of “sad”, as an emotion to describe such occasions, and rephrase them as reminiscent. Being reminiscent reflects the value that we place on our experiences. Being reminiscent shares my appreciation for the time. That time was full of love and sharing. It warms my heart, gives me strength, gives me energy, and makes me smile. I’m good at sharing love. That didn’t end or change. I still have plenty of love to share. There are new stories to write and still old stories to tell. I’m okay with that! I hope I can help other people be okay with that as well.
There’s no book on how to make major life transitions. There’s no secret recipe for how to do it best. We do what we can, as we can. We find our way. By choosing life we don’t and can’t live in the past. We look to the future. We make plans. We look for opportunities to not take time for granted. We don’t forget the past. We don’t regret the past. We don’t discount its contributions to bringing us to where we are today. We embrace those contributions, be thankful for them, and talk about them. We share our stories and we honor the lives who have gone before us. We aren’t afraid to include them in our conversations, and “bring’em along” for new adventures. I’m sure that I will always miss and love Di. Two-thirds of my life doesn’t disappear or become negated just because that time is no longer. But I choose to live life the way that we both had envisioned. A life that embraces opportunities, experiences, and relationships that are good for my soul, give me strength and energy, and reflect that I am worthy and enough. Unapologetically, I want to live my best life. I’m not perfect. I’ll fuck it up sometimes for sure. But I will try to do no harm to others while loving myself.
As the winter solstice approaches, our orbit once again comes to rest upon the image of a baby and her holy family. I intentionally use the feminine pronoun and lowercase letters to help us see the symbolism within the traditional religious concepts. Every child holds wonder and hope for all of the people who love and care for him or her.
Included here are monoprints that I created with this mother and child theme in mind. Monoprints are a fitting medium for this theme since they are unique, but, like all prints, they are created within a series – the potential for replication is the inherent quality – the raison d’etre – of this artistic process. Every individual is unique and, yet as humans, we fulfill sacred roles and duties that remain unchanged over the millennia. My monoprints were experiments with a gelli plate on which I placed cut paper to create the figure of a woman holding an infant. I reused the paper scraps for each messy print. I based my imagery on an old photo of myself as a baby held in the arms of my babysitter’s husband. Fitting this Advent reflection, his name was Joseph. He worked the printing presses at the Kansas City Star and Times newspaper and was able to come home in the afternoons where he would join Margaret, his wife, in the life of the home: working around the house and garden, watching children, and making dinner. They had eight children of their own who, when I knew them, were teenagers and young adults. Margaret and Joseph opened their home to more. In a time before home daycares were popular and professionalized, Margaret took care of a few extra children – my mother paid her in cash every day – and often her grand babies and, occasionally, a niece. My own mom worked as a physician and recognized this ideal situation in our neighborhood. She began taking me when I was two weeks old. Over the years, Joseph repeatedly told me “You were tiny!” I grew up in this large, stable Catholic family as much as I did my own family. My dad was a pathologist working long hours in a hospital lab. When he was home, I was delighted. He was fun and indulgent. I cherish my memories of him and also wish I had had more ordinary time with him. I share these details to make the story of the holy family resonate. Fathers and others have a crucial part in the nurturing even though our images may coalesce upon the beautiful young mother. For my monoprints, I chose pearlescent turquoise to invoke the blues used in Marian imagery. I like the way the “messiness” of these prints gives a sense of movement and action. Babies squirm out of our arms. Toddlers, like kittens and puppies, are in constant motion until they collapse into sleep. Life with children is often messy, imperfect, and unfinished as there is little time and energy left over after meeting their needs. The children may be exuberant and high spirited; they may be fussy, sick, or hurt.
This past August, the news cycle brought another mother and child image into my awareness: Rigoberto A. Gonzalez’s "Refugees Crossing the Border Wall into South Texas,” a large oil from 2020 painted in the Italian Baroque style. The painting, showing a woman holding an infant clad only in a diaper, climbing a ladder as a man and a boy stand waiting for her, depicts the perilousness and realness of the immigrant experience. It had been singled out by the current administration as an example of ideologically objectionable art that should not be shown in the Smithsonian. It was on display there briefly in 2022; it is now in the private Varmar Collection. The White House has called for a “comprehensive review” of the Smithsonian museums ahead of the 250th anniversary of our nation’s founding. This January 2026 we shall see what comes of this showdown. When I saw the reproductions of the painting online, I immediately thought of Caravaggio’s “Madonna di Loreto” (Madonna of the Pilgrims), 1606, in a chapel of Sant’ Agostino in Rome. This Madonna caused a controversy as well because it seemed too common and ordinary for the propriety due the Church. It featured barefeet (6 in total!) and showed peasant pilgrims in their worn, dirty clothes. The naturalism of the naked child startles with a realism that makes the viewer remember what it is like to hold a baby in one’s arms and feel their smooth skin. Over the centuries, the immediacy is still felt. I’ve included here a pencil drawing I made in an effort to copy the shapes and forms that emerge out of Caravaggio’s famously, characteristically dark paint.
Gonzalez has discussed his reasons for painting in the Baroque style that Caravaggio exemplifies. In our current political climate, there is a place for tableaus that are emotionally real, earnest even. The light and dark chiaroscuro is symbolic of turbulent times. There is violence and pathos. Realism is in the service of a moral message.
These figurative compositions are very different from calm still life studies. We identify with the people; we do not merely marvel at the illusionistic skill of the artist. We enter the visualization of a story that echoes through time. “Trompe l’oeil” – the French phrase that refers to realism that is so effective that it “tricks” the viewer into believing they are looking at the real thing instead of paint on a canvas – is not what we want in these unsettled, changing times. I, myself, do not want to say “trompe l’oeil” aloud since it sounds so similar to the current president’s name and emphasizes “deception.” Now, as we are being misled and lied to, and we do not know whom to trust or which of the many outrages to focus upon, we need images that lead us back to universal truths. We need to be reminded to take care of each other. Mother and child imagery conveys the message to hold each other close. You are both the beloved baby and the one who bestows the love, care, and protective strength that nurtures another. This moment is fleeting, but it will be returned to in memories and many iterations to come.
Getting To Know You is a returning feature of our Evangelism Ministry. Telling each other our stories is a powerful way to build community
and deepen relationships.
Want to share your story?
Talk with Frosty Owen or Jean Klele
This month's spotlight, focuses on Paul Shane.
Meet Paul: A Journey of Faith and Service at St. Mark’s.
Paul’s story begins in South Carolina, but as part of a military family, his early years were spent abroad, two years in Germany followed by nearly eleven years in England - attending church primarily at All Saints, Newmarket (Church of England). Paul later earned his degree in Hospitality Management and returned to the U.S. in 1988, where his passion for technology led him into the field of Information Technology. That path eventually brought him into the staffing industry, where he’s thrived for over two decades.
After spending 23 years in Atlanta, Georgia, Paul made Richmond his home in 2015. I n August 2016, after exploring several churches in the Richmond area, Paul walked through the doors of St. Mark’s and instantly knew he’d found his spiritual home. It didn’t take long before he was invited to participate in ministry, marking the beginning of a new chapter in his faith journey.
Initially known as a Master of Ceremony (MC), Paul was approached to join this ministry, and without hesitation, Paul said Yes and he embraced it with enthusiasm. It was during the tenure of our interim rector Judy, that St. Mark’s officially dropped the MC name and returned to using the title “Verger” A lay minister who assists clergy in the conduct of public worship.
Intrigued and inspired, Paul began studying the history and responsibilities of Vergers, eventually discovering the Verger’s Guild of the Episcopal Church. In the summer of 2023, Paul enrolled in the Guild’s training course, which required mentorship to complete. Paul approached Benjamin, who graciously agreed to guide him through the year-long process. Paul set a personal goal to finish the course by summer 2024, in time to be certified at the annual Verger’s Guild Conference, held that October in Detroit, Michigan. The conference offered a rich experience of learning, worship, and fellowship, culminating in a grand procession of Vergers at the host church’s morning service. Paul looks forward to attending again in the future.
Most recently, if you attended St. Mark’s rededication service on September 7th, you may have seen Paul officially serving in his Verger role, vested and escorting the procession, at Benjamin’s request.
Paul also assists in other ministries, such as a monthly teller, community dinner cashier, and worship team member. In his spare time, Paul enjoys home improvements, music, movies, concerts, bowling, cooking, and let’s not forget taking care of Maxine.
Curious to learn more? Paul would be delighted to share his journey and answer any questions.
What an exciting journey we have been on these past several months, awaiting the renewal and rededication of our nave and sanctuary. There have been countless hours and people working tirelessly to prepare our worship space to reflect and amplify our praises to God.
And, supporting all the hands and hours of work, have been the financial commitments of you, the parish, who have helped bring us to this point. Additionally, as an encouraging friend of the parish, we have been blessed with the Carole Weinstein Challenge Gift to give us a true running start to carrying forward our work.
For each and every one of you, I give profound thanks!
St Paul, in his letter to the church in Corinth (1 Corinthians 12:12) he reminds them, “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.” We, as Christ’s body, here in this corner of the world, at this juncture in time, are to be Christ’s hands, feet, voice, gut, eyes, ears, and so on and so forth.
Our mission is to live out Jesus’ ministry of grace, justice, healing and reconciliation in the world and amongst ourselves. And our newly renovated interior, worship space is intended to be a place of gathering, strengthening, and an offering for the work we have been given to do.
As we come to Sunday, September 7, 2025, we are planning to offer prayers of thanksgiving and rededication for our renewed nave and sanctuary: important parts of our vehicle for ministry.
But even more so, we will be re-membering those who have brought us to this point, as well as re-dedicating our own calls in ministry as the baptized of Christ Jesus.
Our hope is for all the St Mark’s Family, past and present, to be able to renew not only our space, but our hearts as well. To remember that we are all One body in Christ with gifts for ministry that are needed outside the walls of our church, now as much as ever.
So, please join us in-person or on Zoom this Sunday as we rededicate our worship space and our own hearts for the ministry to which God has called us: To love and serve God and one another, now and always.
Friends, I write this weekly reflection in the midst of what I know are difficult days for many of us. Some of our hurts are shared; we see and know and support one another in them. And other hurts may be held in our hearts and known to God alone. There is also hurt in this world which profoundly impacts beloved people of God who may be beyond our immediate orbit. Even those we do not personally know are still our siblings living every day through the changes and chances of our social, cultural, political world.
Sometimes, especially in these recent days, I have felt a deep heart-ache come over me. Sometimes I know why. But to be completely honest, sometimes I am not entirely sure who my heart breaks for or what the flood of empathy that comes over me is about. I wonder, in these moments when someone or something is clearly tugging heavily on my heart, if that is a time when someone, somewhere needs a prayer. And so, I have made it a practice that whenever these moments happen, I stop, and I pray.
I’ve come to think of these moments as holy connections. Perhaps holy connections interrupt my status quo because God is inviting me to carry someone, known or known, in that moment. I’ve started to ponder this and what it means for understanding the nature of who God is. Rather than a detached, impersonal God “out there” our faith teaches us that God is the One who is, who loves and carries all of us. And in God’s infinite wisdom and cosmic vision, perhaps we are also interconnected in ways that only God can understand. There is one thing that I know for sure: I have never regretted following that tug on my heart to pray for someone, to visit someone, to show love to a stranger. And, it has been a blessing in my own life when those holy connections appear for me, in ways that fill me with gratitude, wonder and awe.
I have something I want you all to know. It was one of those days when I went to visit Kent; an opportunity opened on my calendar and he was on my mind. I had no idea why. Neither of us knew what that afternoon would bring, but when Kent and I found ourselves praying together during his final moments on this earth, I had a profound sense that we were not alone. That space was filled with belovedness: from St. Mark’s, from Kent’s many friends, from family members both here and those who had gone before, ancestors and the great communion of saints. It was palpable. He felt it, and he saw it. Not for one second in those moments did Kent feel alone. And my beloved friends at St. Mark’s, I felt you all with us, the great love of this great parish present in a real, palpable, personal way.
It’s a great mystery, this way that God knits us together as the Body of Christ. We are reminded of it in each celebration of Holy Eucharist and in the Baptismal waters that are sprinkled and splashed as we welcome new members into this sacred and holy family which we call The Church. The culture we live in is so obsessed with personal rights and freedoms, with individual success and accomplishment, with a sort of “All I want is my fair share!” mentality. When we are caught in that trap, we miss the point of God’s vision of life on earth as it is in heaven as one where we are knit together beautifully and intricately in love and community. We are greater together than the sum of our individual parts, because God is in our midst.
What if we stepped deeply into this belief that we were meant to carry one another, to truly bear one another’s burdens and to know others are bearing our burden with us, as we read in the Epistle to the Galatians (see Galatians 6:2). What if we recognized that at the very moment of our own distress, someone was praying for us. What if, when the pains of the world impinge on our hearts, we all paused to pray and hold in the light whomever was hurting at that moment.
I think that if we did these things, we may come to realize that we are all carrying each other, all the time. We are also not alone in our own sorrows but rather, we are profoundly connected. Love and community are what God desires for us: thanks be to God!
I recently came across this poem, written by Bishop Steven Charleston. It was shared by one of the facilitators at last weekend’s diocesan discernment retreat, and it reminded me of this sense I have of the profoundly personal and beautiful ways in which we carry each other through this life. So, I want to share it with you. I hope you might feel a nudge to share it with someone else, too…because we are all connected.
In the world that God envisions for us, our language is love; our currency is prayer and the journey of this life brings us ever-circling together into the loving arms of God.
Praying for me
By Steven Charleston
Somewhere on this crowded planet
In a place I have never been before
And will never visit in my lifetime
Someone I do not know and will never meet
Has just said a prayer for me.
In a language I do not understand
As an expression of faith in a religion I may not accept.
And yet that prayer was for me.
Please bless all those who are in need,
The stranger prays, and that includes me.
The wonder of faith is not that we all agree.
But that we all care even when we are strangers.
So, I returned the prayer; please bless all who are in need.
All, please, not some:
For they are praying for me as I pray for them.
From Spirit Wheel, Meditations from an Indigenous Elder
Sarah
Galatians 6:2 - Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
As we journey through the Great Fifty Days of Easter, we do so with joy, and in pursuit of the risen Christ in our everyday life.
Over the course of my two years thus far at St Mark’s, I have been blessed deeply by being in relationship with each of you. And, one relationship in particular has been a solid rock throughout all of our lives. The Rev. Charles “Buck” Aiken is an embodiment of St Mark’s, and a vessel for Christ’s love, in a way that is uniquely his own.
A few weeks ago, Buck shared with me, that after Easter, he would like to formally retire from being the “Associate Rector, Part-Time”. In other words, Buck will move from serving the parish in his priestly role into being with us as a member of the congregation.
Buck has shared with me, that when I am away on vacation, he is glad to serve as the supply priest in those times. So, occasionally, he will vest and preside at the Eucharist, but primarily he will share his ministry beside you in the pews. I know you will certainly welcome him into the seat next to you with loving arms.
In the coming days, we will send out information on planning a celebration for Buck and his ministry. In the meantime, let us all give Buck our gratitude and love as he makes this transition into full-time retirement.
