Church Publishing announces Mary C. Earle’s latest book, “Marvelously Made.”

Autographed copies at Viva Books.
Also available at Amazon.com

Each chapter in Marvelously Made focuses on a vital part of the body (the heart, the lungs, the brain, the joints); relates an anecdote from the author’s experience; provides reader-friendly (i.e., not overly technical) information about the wonders of the organ or body part, and offers a prayer and a set of gratitude practices physical and spiritual meditation exercises to deepen the reader s appreciation of the body.

Mary Earle helps us see that our bodies are marvelously made, a “sacred space,” where God’s wondrous and mysterious ways can be appreciated contemplatively, with gratitude. But she also takes gratitude to its next step, in suggesting ways of serving others’ bodily needs with compassion and conviction. — Brian C. Taylor, Becoming Christ: Transformation Through Contemplation

A deceptively short book to be read slowly and savored. Reminding us of the wonder of the Incarnation, it invites the reader to reflect on the holiness of our bodies. Her guidelines for prayers of gratitude for our physical selves are gentle and doable. – Margaret Guenther, Holy Listening, The Practice of Prayer, and Walking Home.

A thoughtful exploration of self in the most literal sense—a tactile exploration of our bodies, the substance of our lives and habitation of our living. Nor does the author leave us to ourselves alone, but invites us into relationship with the earth of which our bodies are made and to which we will each one day return. — Sam Portaro, Crossing the Jordan and Transforming Vocation.

A beautiful resource for those of us who want to enter more deeply into a prayerful experience of the body. Through a series of thoughtful contemplative practices that bring us to a deepened sense of our own grace, Earle leads the reader gently to a renewed sense of wonder, amazement, and profound gratitude for the gift of being in a body. Highly recommended. — Christine Valters Paintner, The Artist’s Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom

Then I have one of my secret delights.  I go to the computer and catch up on the blogs for Juniper Moon Farm (www.fiberfarm.com) and Jacob’s Reward Farm (www.jacobsreward.com).  There’s nothing quite so satisfactory as seeing the faces of the new lambs, the growing Maremma pups at Jacobs Reward Farm, and the gorgeous new yarns coming forth from Susie Gibbs and friends at Juniper Moon Farm.  (They are also both on Facebook if you want to link up with them in that way.)

Both of these are Community Supported Agriculture farms, or C.S.A.s.  Susie Gibbs of Juniper Moon Farm came up with this great idea.  City folks who have always wanted to live in the country, fiber fanatics or those who care about sustainability can buy a share in a C.S.A., thereby supporting these farms.  I have a share in both Juniper Moon Farm in Virginia and in Jacob’s Reward Farm in Texas.  I found Jacob’s Reward via Juniper Moon, because Susie Gibbs, generous pioneering C.S.A. founder that she is, helped Cindy Telisak in Texas move toward C.S.A. status.  I am always drawn to generous souls, so both of these women farmers have my support and my admiration.

Sunday afternoons, as the new week begins to unfold, I find myself engaged by tales of lambs learning to nurse, little chicks arriving in the mail, young people learning to spin and knit and the direct ways in which weather affects the life of the creatures and the farmers.  I am reminded of our interdependence as a human family, and I am given so much joy in being a tiny part of the endeavors of these women.  Join me in supporting C.S.A.s and in remembering that we can’t make it without our farmers.

“With uncanny grace and deftness, Earle has woven the soul-wrenching beauty of Celtic spirituality and the joy of contextual understanding into a seamless and deeply satisfying whole. The result, like the biblical Psalter itself, is a loving companion for all the times and seasons of our lives.”  Phyllis Tickle, Compiler, The Divine Hours

Together we decided that it was time for him to prune the huge “Mutabilis” antique rose.  It had grown unbelievably last year—at least seven feet tall and twelve feet wide.  Quite a presence.  However, dead branches predominated in the undergrowth, and the ice two weeks ago had broken some of the upper branches.  Pedro set to work.  Four hours later, a much diminished “Mutabilis” graces the brick patio.

The border collies are confused.  For some time, they have run around the perimeter of this rose bush while playing catch with tennis balls.  Graford, Fiona and Maggie have evolved an elaborate ritual of who gets to go after which ball, and how that ball is returned to the thrower.  Part of this ritual involves running around the rose bush.

Now, however, that well trodden path around the former perimeter of the bush makes no sense.  The rose bush has been trimmed so far back, and the lower branches are gone.  A smart border collie (and believe me, they are all smart) can run directly under the bush, ball in mouth, and reach the thrower quickly.

Initially, Fiona, Graford and Maggie ran in the rut they had made.  Then it began to be apparent, especially to Fiona, that this made no sense.  So they began to experiment.  To try new routes.  To adjust their game.  To be creative in the exchange between one another.

Lent starts so late this year, and though we still have several weeks of Epiphany to go, my inner liturgical self is beginning to reflect in Lenten terms.  The blessed dogs have given me a starting place: where are the ruts?  What needs a really good pruning?  And what might the new patterns look like?  G.K. Chesterton reminded us that the animals complete us, make us more human.  Here’s to Fiona, Graford and Maggie, wise in so many ways that I am not, and willing to offer a little guidance if only I’ll pause long enough to receive it.

Fiona and Graford, Aug. 2010

In August 2010, Graford and Fiona, two fine border collie puppies from different litters, came to live with us.  We became a household of two cats (Cuthbert and Leftovers), and three border collies, the venerable Maggie being the oldest.  Maggie also turned out to be the very best nanny that we could have found.

When the pups were small, and needed to be tended when in the yard, that led to my moving the place for morning quiet for prayer and journaling from the house to the back yard.  I confess I was thrown off balance by this shift.  I started out in our bower, covered in trumpet vine.  It was August.  It was hot.  There were mosquitoes.  Every minute or so I had to get up and rescue a puppy from something dangerous to border collie health.  I missed the air conditioning.  (This was the last summer of the two year drought.)

Then I realized, to my surprise, that I was beginning to notice subtle changes in the light.  Despite the heat, the promise of shorter days appeared.  The tilt of the earth in its journey around the sun led to those slightly longer moments of darkness before the dawn.  I heard cranes and ducks fly over the house, heading toward Brackenridge Park and other birds of a feather.  The neighborhood bird chorus sang in varying notes of cardinal, mockingbird and woodpecker.

Eventually I moved to the table on our screen porch, in part because it faces east.  In part because it is closer to the coffee.  In part because it protects me from the biting insects.  Now I start the day with Graford, Fiona and Maggie on the screen porch, with my iPad and the Daily Office, with a journal, with coffee.  I start the day watching the east, noticing the way that the sunlight shifts, registering the temperature, turning on the light in the winter.  There’s much to be said for offering morning prayer while beholding the dawn, tracking the sun’s pattern, feeling the change of season in feet, hands, face.  This January, sometimes I have on three layers and my hands get cold.

Often I recall the hermits, women and men, of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall and Brittany, both in the past and the present.  I recall those who have greeted each dawn in the company of their co-hermit creatures and familiars.  The last several years of difficult health, our son Bryan’s death, disability retirement and reconfiguring of vocation have led me to this place.  Well, to be honest, it was the border collie puppies who led me to this place.  Christ in one of his many disguises.

Fiona and Graford, Christmas 2010

I sense this morning practice makes me more human.  The dogs and Leftovers (Cuthbert is a hermit, true to his namesake) and I have our morning conversations.  Our little community “rises to the new life,” as the Celtic prayer puts it.  Every single morning, through the book of creation and the book of scripture, we are greeted, guided, invited to take the next steps into the unfolding day.  I throw the ball, watch the sky brighten, and we all remember we are beginning a day not of our making.

Thanks to Thee, O God, that I have risen today,

To the rising of this life itself;

May it be to Thine own glory, O God of every gift,

And to the glory of my soul likewise.

O great God, aid Thou my soul

With the aiding of Thine own mercy;

Even as I clothe my body with wool,

Cover Thou my soul with the shadow of Thy wing.

Help me to avoid every sin,

And the source of every sin to forsake;

And as the mist scatters on the crest of the hills,

May each ill haze clear from my soul, O God

(from The Carmina Gadelica)

It makes direct connections between women’s personal lives and global concerns of women everywhere, showing the interrelatedness, for example, between a woman’s prayer for her infant in America and the plight of child laborers in developing countries.

The prayer selections are representative of women from of all parts of the Anglican world. Members of the editorial board include Jane Williams, Phoebe Griswold, plus women from Asia, South America, and the Middle East

Tracing one woman’s rediscovery of her personal, inner connection to the Divine, the songs from Sofia’s Table echo experiences of many women on this path.

Covita Moroney’s open-hearted vocals, soaring melodies, and rich instrumentations invite the listener into a sacred space of unconditional acceptance, where everyone has a place. All are welcome to partake of– Sofia’s– banquet.

The vivid imagery of Mary Earle’s poetry is woven into this recording. Read by the author, these works complement a musical journey of discovery and wholeness.

“This rich, wise, and comforting guide for those living with illness is a handbook of deep knowledge gleaned through lived experience. It is a blend of realism and humility, of questions and mystery – all delivered with Mary’s simple yet elegant style. She unmasks many illusions and reminds us that though our lives are “short and uncertain,” there is unfathomable power each time we realize that we have another day.”

Paula D’Arcy, author of Gift of the Red Bird and Waking Up to This Day (2009).

“Behind this project is Mary Earle, an author who has impressed us with her pioneer work in this field; we included readings from her books in our e-course Practicing Spirituality during Illness. She has suffered for years from chronic pancreatitis and believes a chronic illness can be experienced as a condition filled with grace as well as pain.”

Read the rest of this review at Spirituality and Practice.

Purchase at Amazon.

Days of Grace is also available as an audio book.

Purchase CD at Amazon.