First Thoughts

I ran across this wonderful quote this morning in a newsletter I receive from the SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators):

"First thoughts have
tremendous energy.
The internal censor
usually squelches them,
so we live in the realm
of second and third thoughts,
thoughts on thought,
twice and three times
removed from the
direct connection of
the first fresh flash."
~ Natalie Goldberg

Isn't that interesting? It makes me wonder whether we'll be able to hear any of our own First Thoughts today--you know, the ones we share with God. Let's listen together, okay? :)

Time is on God's Side

If you're a child of the 60s or 70s, you'll get a kick out of this reflection. This morning, for some unknown reason, the song, "Time Is On My Side," (by the Rolling Stones) was playing in my head over and over. (At the time, I didn't remember who sang it, but it was playing loud and clear.) As I exercised, as I made coffee, I kept hearing this song. I wrote the phrase in my journal during my meditation and prayer time. When I came up to my office to begin work for the day, I decided to Google the lyrics to find out who wrote the song and discover what the rest of it said.

I thought maybe I was picking up a "time vibe" because I am feeling pressured in my work to catch up with several writing deadlines that are running on ahead of me. :) But as I read the lyrics (which you can read by clicking here), it occurred to me that this is the song God is continually singing to us! Time is on God's side. We can claim our freedom, go off seeking our heart's desires, but eventually, we'll come

running back

running back

running back

to God! Why? Because God's got that "real love--the kind you need, baby." What a fun way to start the day! Who knew Mick Jagger was a prophet? :)

Let There Be...

I read a quote from a woman writer somewhere once (and it's in my journal but I'm not sure where) that said, "Whenever you say, 'Let there be...,' something happens." This morning that idea is floating around in my mind and heart. The power of creation is something I believe God shares with us--as the Ultimate Creative Being, God has given us a share in that amazing ability to create what we choose with our days, our thoughts, our lives.

Sure, we can argue that something "out there" resists or rejects what we create. But maybe we create that too, by envisioning the resistance to begin with.

If you had total power to create something that was important to you today, how would you use that power? Imagine that nothing can hold you back; no one will laugh or criticize you. Your gift will be totally accepted, gladly received, and unreservedly successful. What will you create?

Here are a few possibilities that pop into my head:

"Let there be peace."

"Let there be love."

"Let there be abundance."

"Let there be health."

"Let there be passion."

"Let there be JOY!!!."

What do you want to create today? Roll the rock away and let it out. The world is waiting. :)

Energy & Light

I awoke this morning with more than the usual energy. Elliot the kitten (he's the one on the right in the photo) was purring and pushing at my head, trying to do anything he could to wake me up so I would pet him. This is a fairly regular occurrence lately; I think he realizes sometime close to sunrise that he is just dying to be petted. He's gone so long--all night!--without someone telling him how wonderful he is. :)

Some mornings this really gets old. I gently push him away, or hide under the covers, or just hide my hands under the comforter so he won't keep trying to make me pet him. Eventually he gives up and goes away for a little while. He's an interactive alarm clock with a loud, purring motor.

But this morning Elliot's antics struck me as funny. Maybe I was just ready to get up, but I gave in and cuddled him and scratched his head. He was so appreciative. I got up, got dressed, and took the dogs out, feeling cheerful. Not dragging; not wishing the day could start a little slower; not wondering about how much I can get done today and how in the world that could possibly be enough.

I'm not sure why some days have one kind of energy and other days have another. It might be my diet the night before; it might be my dreams; it might be angels that visit me through the night--I don't know. But I know when the energy is high, when I feel humor and compassion and a sense of gratitude for the day, I feel that I'm in tune with God; and when I drag and grumble and feel too small to face the responsibilities before me, I am somehow out of sync and feeling like a separate little me and forgetting my source.

I don't know why I wake up one day feeling connected and another day feeling not. But I'm grateful for today! And I'm noticing, God. Thanks for the energy and light, and for being always the source that shines throughout my life (whether I'm feeling it or not).

Sharing Our Soul's Stories

Emma Curtis Hopkins says, "The soul doesn't need saving; it needs to be made visible." This really resonates with me because I've discovered that as I grow into self-acceptance, all those places where I judged myself before have become filled with life and energy--they are now a source of healing and joy; a miraculous resource I missed when I was unwilling to explore them!

Sharing our stories helps our soul become visible. We learn to meet ourselves with compassion and welcome back all the pieces we've missed, forgotten, or rejected along the way. I have written a book with my co-author Mike Torres about a program that makes it easy--and free!--for people to begin sharing their stories, their experiences, and their lives with each other. If you've been thinking about blogging but haven't given it a try, come visit our MSN Bookspace and read excerpts of our book. You can use it to begin to express those places in your soul that haven't been welcomed out in a while. They need love too, you know. :)

[No worries about privacy issues--with MSN Spaces you can set up your space to be completely private so no one else--or only the people you specify--can read or see what you post on your space.]

If you aren't sure how you can use blogging (or our book) to tell your stories, drop me a note. I'm a good blog coach! :)

Themes of Temptation

This morning I find myself thinking about the story of Jesus being tempted in the desert during that 40-day vigil. It's interesting to me that he was tempted three different ways--to use the power God gave him to sustain himself ("tell these stones to become bread"); to save himself ("throw yourself down"); or to choose what (or whom) to worship. The key here, it seems to me, is to not be fooled into thinking that our care and protection comes from anything or anyone except God. We may think our own efforts in our career are guaranteeing our success (which brings food for our table and shelter from the cold), but who provides the talent, creativity, opportunity that opens the way for our work? Sometimes I get so caught up in working so hard that I get stressed and fearful when I fall behind. When that happens (like earlier this week!), I have to ask myself--what am I afraid of? Who sustains me, protects me, cares for me? When I realize that my work, my health, my support comes from God alone, I begin to relax and return to my work with less force and fear. I work with focus and integrity. I enjoy what I do. And I thank the One who brings all good things into my life for bringing my mind back to the place of peace and green pastures.

Happy Friday, everyone!

What's the truest thing you know?

What truth is rattling around inside you this morning? Maybe it's something like "It's a beautiful morning." No matter what truth we claim, we can see God in it by looking a little closer: (1) We feel Joy when we encounter beauty. (2) Beauty is a gift given freely to us--we do not earn it (like Grace).

See? There's God, right there. Not even two steps away. I love that. :)

Whatever is true for you today--whether you enjoy a smile, or a sweet moment of peace, or a warm hug, or anticipating a fun evening--say it out loud and give God a wave at the same time. Because if you're enjoying something, God's there. He's in the JOY part. :)

Me, Myself & I: Prodigals All

I'm not sure what started me thinking about this, but the theme of the Prodigal Son has been surfacing in my life a lot lately. Instead of thinking of the prodigal as different people in a story, however, I've been thinking about it as different aspects of myself. I have a "good son" part of me that always tries to do everything right--that feeds the cows and does what's good and true. And I also have an "adventurous and carefree" self that sometimes wants to go off and climb mountains and wander through rainforests. There's a part of me that is really good at creating fantasy (especially when I'm hurt or scared) and there's a part of me that is firmly plugged into reality and knows what it means to have deep roots of faith. I'm rational and irrational; I'm logical and emotional; I'm body and spirit.

But the aspects of myself that I call "good" are much more welcome in my world than the parts that don't do things "right." My prodigal self needs to be able to come home hungry, having tried the wrong road and found it wanting, and find the true, warm, embracing love of a forgiving, understanding self that is eager to welcome those messy aspects back into the fullness of life. But all too often I think I behave like the jealous "good" brother in the story, wanting to tell the prodigal self that it didn't earn it's happiness; it doesn't deserve a break; it didn't do the right thing when push came to shove.

I'm so glad that Jesus told that story. He was talking about grace, mercy, forgiveness. He was talking about what matters--life, all of it--good, bad, messy, wonderful, upside-down, inside-out life. What matters is wholeness, not hiding, truth. When we can welcome those hidden or distanced (or rejected) parts of ourselves back into the family, simply because they exist, we will find what it means--in that very moment--to live Heaven on Earth.

Remarkable Recovery

This morning I read an amazing article written by doctor and breast cancer survivor Mandi Caruso in Spirituality & Health magazine (February 2006). WOW. Talk about inspiring. This woman's story is remarkable, and her own sense of healthy personal power just pours off the page as you read. If you've never read an issue of Spirituality & Health before, now's the time to try it. The article is called "Alive with Passion." Here's the web site.Enjoy and be inspired!

Living Faith

This is a quote from an amazing book by Iyanla VanZant, entitled "One Day My Soul Just Opened Up." I find her writing powerful and full of truth--it affirms much of what I've been learning in my present life circumstances. I hope it blesses you, too!

You are faith in the flesh. God has so much faith in you that you were entrusted with the gift of life and a unique mission to fulfill. Did you ever stop to think that you could have been a fruit tree. You could have berries or flowers sticking out of your ears! Instead you were given the right to make conscious choices, the ability to create through thought and deed, and dominion over every other creature. That is a demonstration of the faith the Divine has in your abilities and capabilities. Your task is to return faith with faith. You must live with the knowledge that everything you need, at any time you need it is being provided. Not will be provided. Is being provided! This is how we can each become an example of living faith: by knowing that your good is on the way. In every undertaking you must live with faith in the power of your thoughts, the efficacy of your words, and the purposefulness of your actions. When you are challenged by seemingly insurmountable obstacles, you must live with faith that the truth of your affirmations, your positive words, will manifest as tangible conditions. When you set a goal, you must proceed with living faith that there is a divine plan unfolding in your life and as your life, and that if the plan is supported by knowledge of spiritual laws, the benefits will be divine. This is how we must direct our thoughts and actions in order to become living faith."

Isn't she amazing? I love it that although Iyanla writes about the power of our thoughts, words, and deeds, she roots that idea in love of God and the desire to manifest God's highest good in our beautiful lives. God is truly at the center of her message as a powerful, empowering, animating, creative force.

Thanks, Iyanla, for sharing your learning, your wisdom, and your voice. :)

Meeting the Day as It Is

When I awoke this morning, later than usual, I stretched and felt that wonderful sense of a full day ahead of me with no particular plans. By mid-morning, however, I had devised a mental list. Finish a bid for a new project for one client. Write the draft of the newsletter for another client. Go to Lowes to buy a ladder. Get to the grocery to get what we need for the week.

No sooner had I finished my mental list than Cameron came up and added his own ideas about what the day should be. He wanted not just Joe but also Justin to spend the night. (Add to the grocery list.) He wanted to stop at Blockbuster to rent a game and/or movie for the sleepover. (Add another stop to the errand list.) Then Christopher came home. He wanted to know when he could paint his new bedroom. (Add to the Lowes list--get paint chips and samples.)

The day continued on this way, changing and branching and flowering. On the way to Lowes we drove through a sudden--and breathtakingly beautiful--snow torrent. On the way home, we drove through snow-covered trees looking up at a creamy almost-full moon. We were late getting back from Lowes, so I made oven-fried chicken instead of chicken parmesan. On a whim I called Kelly and Tony to see whether they wanted to come over for dessert. The night ended (just a few minutes ago), with all of us crashed on the couch and chairs in the family room, watching South Park (not my first choice, but since the average age in the room was 24, I acquiesed to the majority).

The day now, in hindsight, barely resembled the free, quiet, open day I envisioned as I stretched in bed this morning. But you know what? It was richer. It was more work. It had more laughter, and more cuddling. The real day I had, I now know, was much more full of life than the controllable day I thought I was going to have. Unpredictability means blessings in all kinds of packages. I'll remember that tomorrow when I wake up.

Thanks for the day, God, whatever it brings. I know you place a blessing in every moment. :)

Trust In the Slow Work of God

Above all, trust the slow work of God.
We are, quite naturally,
impatient in everything to reach the end
without delay.
We should like to skip
the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on
the way to something unknown,
something new,
and yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stage of instability –
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually –
let them grow,
let them shape themselves,
without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today
what time (that is to say, grace and
circumstances acting
on your own good will)
will make them tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of
feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.

~ Teilhard de Chardin

Feet of Clay

I am one of those people who always sees the good in everything. At first glance that sounds great, because I'll be the one who is sure to find the silver lining, make lemonade out of lemons (my kids hate that phrase! Ha!), and generally always come up with the blessing in any circumstance. The downside is that sometimes I may be not seeing things I really need to see in order to make good choices, fully rounded thought-out choices, that will affect my life and well-being. My work over the last couple of months (the inner work I mentioned the other day) has been about getting to know that eternal optimist who lives in me and find out why she sometimes plugs her ears and sings real loud when the not-so-optimistic voice wants a chance to talk.

We humans are complex and marvelous beings. It feels funny--a bit ticklish--to begin to poke around at your own innards, asking curious questions about why you view the world the way you do. I've done that kind of questioning on a spiritual level--that's part of what I loved so much about seminary--but I feel as though I'm on new ground with Kathy the Human. I feel that I understand the spiritual me fairly well, but the more human me I haven't given as much attention. So the New Year brings an interesting, curious, and adventuresome feel for me. If I really want to walk and talk in the Garden with God, I better find out more about the human being's feet I'm walking in. It's bound to be an interesting journey. You're welcome to come along. Just pack a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. We humans get hungry. :)

All in All

Happy New Year! I hope this year is gleaming with hope and promise for you. I have been doing a lot of work--internal work and external work, public work and private work--but it's all good. :) One of the themes that seems to be arising again and again in my thought and my life and my understanding is the idea of All in All. When things look dark, there's a little bit of light. When things are light, there's a little bit of dark. And varying degrees of light, on a continuum from bright to night. I laugh and tears spring to my eyes. I'm sad and the boys make me laugh. I find a moment of peace springing up unexpectedly in the middle of a hectic afternoon. I lounge through a quiet morning and suddenly burst into a frenzy of busy-ness. People who love us sometimes hurt us. And people who hurt us sometimes love us. I still tend to want to stack life up into neat little piles--but that's really just my attempt to compartmentalize the rich, swirling, unboxable essence of the All. The All in All means that there is that love and hurt and hope and despair and communion and isolation all swirling around us every moment like so many scents on a spring breeze. It's all there. What will we notice? Is it a busy day or a quiet day? Was it a good movie or a bad movie? If it's All in All, there's bits of all of it there, built right into the mix of the moment.

Gifts for the Christ Child in You

Last night I ran to the grocery to pick up a few things. One of the employees there I always talk to walked up, smiling. "So, are you don't with your Christmas shopping yet?" he asked. "No," I admitted. "I haven't even started. I'm just not feeling it yet."

That's an odd admission for me and I realized with some surprise that I really wasn't feeling the same excitement and bubbly joy I usually feel this time of year. This has been a difficult fall for me and maybe my spirit is sagging a little. This morning, still thinking about it, I decided to pray about that issue during my quiet journaling time. An interesting thought swirled its way up into my consciousness. If Christmas giving is really about giving to that of Christ in another, what kind of gifts would I give? I began to envision each person on my list. What gift would I give them to honor the Christ in them? For one person, I saw beautiful scents and lotions; for another, an engraving of his accomplishment; for another, a fine leather-bound book for expressing his wisdom. The ideas for gifts flowed from that central idea of giving to the Christ in each of the people I loved. It was a powerful prayer! The ideas came as fast as I could write them down, and when I finished I had my list and the energy and joy to begin my shopping.

The next time I stop in at the grocery, when someone asks me about my holiday progress, I'll be able to say that I truly got back in tune with the Spirit of Giving this holiday.

Blessings and joy to you today!

Special Holiday Insert! Just for the holidays, come by the fun new space I created, called All Things Christmas This space includes holiday favorites, trivia, organizing templates, and links to great projects, offers, games, and more! Happy Holidays!

Pines and Pears

I was sitting at the kitchen table writing in my journal and sipping coffee when I noticed two trees, side by side, on my neighbor's property 40 feet away. I noticed that I could easily see the clear outline of every leaf on the pear tree, but from that distance the pine looked fuzzy and unclear, no matter how much I squinted and tried to focus. It occurred to me that situations (and sometimes people!) are like that too--some are clear and easy to understand; others are less defined and harder to grasp. I wondered...is that difference inherent in the nature of the tree or in my eyes, or both? The shape of the leaves on the tree (and the personalities of some people and circumstances in some situations) have something to do with how easy they are to see; but also the ability of my own eyes (as well as the limitations caused by being at such a distance) have something to do with hindering or helping my own understanding.

The idea was helpful to me because I can sometimes work so hard at trying to understand situations that are beyond my ability to grasp--I keep working at it like a child wiggling a loose tooth. But usually I just have to put it all back in God's hands and say, "I know you'll give me more understanding about this when and if I should have it, but for now, it's beyond me. I just have to leave it with you."

And you know what? That works a lot better than squinting. :)

A Look in the Mirror

I read something yesterday that said most of us look in the mirror to see how we could be somebody else. If I just get a hair cut, fix that tooth, smooth those laugh lines...

The writer suggested that we might look in the mirror with a different motive: to see who's really there. It's a subtle idea, but important, I think. Two weeks ago I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to change the color of my hair; she has been creative with hair color since fifth grade and I thought maybe I should lighten up a bit (literally and figuratively!). Then two nights ago, getting ready for bed, I paused and looked in the mirror. I noticed for the first time that I have natural red highlights in my hair. I never noticed that before. How is it possible that I've lived 44 years and never known that about myself?

When I read the writer's words yesterday, it came clear to me. I was in such a hurry trying to look better, be better, behave better, that I didn't notice the highlights I already had. Today I want to stop the construction I tend to do on myself and take a break with the intention of making room for a real sense of understanding and appreciation of what's already here. Maybe you'll pause for a moment and do it with me. A collective breath in which we can stop, open our eyes and hearts, and just notice how we shine right now could feel like a real homecoming.

Starshine

Last night Georgie woke me up around 2:30am so she could go outside. Everything was so quiet. Even though it was cold, I stepped outside on the deck in my pajamas and looked up. The stars were so bright and so plentiful--they just filled the sky with their varied brightness. Some were large and bright; some were small and faint; some were clustered together in recognizable patterns (the little dipper and Orion's belt); others seemed to be off alone in the stratosphere.

I thought how much like us the stars seem, different and similar, miraculous and unique while sharing a common luminescent purpose. I wonder, looking Earthward from the perspective of the stars, how we might shine for God? Some brightly, some dimly, some in groups, some alone--but all shining.

Stories That Join

In the aftermath of this horrific hurricane, I was thinking back to an experience I had when I was working at the Stress Center this summer. I was leading the community time for the adult mental health and addictions patients; this is often a quiet and sleepy time where folks who have just received their meds come in and gather for their first group meeting of the day. Typically there were between 10 and 20 people present, and we all sat together in a gathering space where they serve meals later in the day. I always began the morning with a simple story that had some kind of theme related to recovery or healing; sometimes I wrote the stories and sometimes I read stories written by other authors.

On this day, I felt compelled to take in a story I'd written last year, about the mini-flood my neighborhood experienced after four days of torrential rain. I wasn't sure why I wanted to read it or how folks would respond. The openness and engagement of the group varied widely from day to day.

I said my good mornings and told the story, embellishing a little as I talked. I could see from their eyes and postures that they were really connecting with the story. Then, slowly, to my surprise, folks began talking. And for the next 15 minutes, we all shared our experiences of that same flood two years ago--remembering the hardship, the loss, the awful feelings, the fear; but ultimately talking about the miracle of the goodness of people who came to help, offering rides, donating dry clothes, helping children get home from school, making sure we were safe. Just by starting with the story of a flood, that morning the room became filled with hope. People who had never made eye contact with me before were suddenly leaning forward and speaking about what happened to them. Folks who had never said a word to any of the other patients now tuned in and listened, connecting to the group, moving out of their isolation.

As I watch on the news the unspeakable loss and erupting anger that is part of the nature of this type of tragedy, I remember how unifying it was for all of us in the hospital that day to talk about the lesser crisis that had made us one. It didn't take away the very real hardship of the circumstances, but it brought with it the miracle of community. We'd all been there. We'd all been afraid. We'd all suffered. We'd all survived. And people--real people, not governments or agencies or social structures--were good, loving, kind, and giving in the midst of that crisis. We'd seen it with our own eyes. And we believed it.

Please...

* pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray * pray *

And when you're doing praying...

Please pray some more.

Prayer changes things. We know it's true--we've seen it happen. We need to turn that belief into spiritual action right now. We can enfold the entire city of New Orleans (and then the other affected cities throughout the gulf region) in protective, calming light. We can imagine God holding and cradling the entire city in his arms. We can pray for clear minds and honest intent in our leaders; for smooth organization of resource deployment; for all obstacles to sustaining care and comfort to be dissolved so that the spirit of God can flow freely and instantly to all who need it.

Thank you, friends. Rest assured I'm out here praying too. This is really a time when we need to do our best to "pray without ceasing."

Up Close

When I awoke yesterday morning, the rest of the world had disappeared into a thick gray fog. I looked out through the kitchen windows into a bluish gray haze. Then I noticed something. Right outside the window, a beautiful, intricate spider web was visible, jeweled with little drops of water from the moisture in the air. I went out on the deck and looked around--on the trees, on the flowers, little lacy webs, visible only just now, when the rest of the world was hidden. With the distance obscured, the present became very clear.

I thought about how that works in my life, too--when I'm looking far ahead, counting my chickens, making plans, I can easily lose touch with the miraculous right in front of me. Sometimes I need God to put me in a fog, to remind me that my future is still out there somewhere, and that the miracle of the gift of this moment is right here, right now, as close as the next rose bush, the nearest smile, the touch of a loving hand.

Spirits

This morning for some reason I awoke with a thought about the difference between the spirit of competition and the spirit of cooperation. In our culture, we have prized competition because it builds (or so the theory goes) a strong, vibrant marketplace that ultimately benefits consumers. Our kids compete in sport and when they win--or even when they lose--we feel it's good for them. That's the way the world works, right?

But this morning I was thinking about the nature of competition and its down-side, comparison. When we compare ourselves with others, maybe we run the risk of putting more energy into the idea of separateness and making it seem more real. And maybe when we put too much focus on what we want to be one day, or worse, who--by comparing ourselves with others and coming up short--we might miss the many ways God has blessed us uniquely to love and serve others our way, creating something beautiful with our lives.

When we cooperate, we work together toward something shared. There is the feeling of traveling together, even if we tussle along the way. It's not our team against their team or our school against theirs--it's, "How can we all have a great time playing football in this program?" It is no longer the arts program competing with the science program for funding, but rather, "How can we provide the best education for our kids?" It's not even, "I do all the real work around here while he sits in his recliner and watches TV!," but "What can we do to make this relationship more alive, more fun, more fulfilling for both of us?"

Perhaps the spirit of competition turns our eyes inward, where we focus on what we need, want, desire. And maybe the spirit of cooperation helps us fix our eyes on something bigger than ourselves and our individual wants. I think cooperation is the harder of the two, because as we all know, we have to give up control and, well, cooperate with other sometimes unpredictable people--who may have different ideas than we do, about things we really care about. :)

But I think we'll get it, one day, perhaps in the not-too-distant future. They say the Kingdom of God is within us, right now. Maybe we just need to hold hands in order to find it. :)

Blessings on your day!

Looking Godward

Yesterday I slipped into a funk of frustration and discouragement. It's a very busy time--the boys have started back to school; I have three huge work projects with looming deadlines; I have just finished an intensive class (on Constructive Theology, which was wonderful) at ESR and will begin my fall semester classes next week. By the end of the day I felt disempowered and ineffective. I finally just gave up and went to bed. In the middle of the day someplace, I remember thinking, "My biggest problem is that during the day I forget God," but that leading didn't stay with me very well. A few minutes later it was washed away by a fresh wave of email or that growing panicky feeling that I'm falling behind on my writing.

This morning I made sure to take my prayer and meditation time; I wrote in my journal; I did yoga. Yesterday I had skipped those things because of the lure of deadlines. As I reflected on my struggles yesterday in my journal, it was very obvious to me how I hadn't--in spite of the quiet leading I'd gotten during the day--given myself the time to look Godward. I need that time. I need that action. I need to look to God, more than just in the morning and last thing at night. I need to look Godward through my day, remembering the source of my life.

Not long ago I realized something wonderful about my house. The front door is surrounded by beautiful etched glass, and way up in the upper right corner, there is a small sticker that says, "Godward Glass, Indianapolis, Indiana." When I'm feeling really low and in need of divine reconnection, I go look up at that sticker. I remember I am indeed looking Godward (which is also looking within, and appreciating the beauty around me, and waiting for God to touch my spirit). It's a powerful outward act for an inward intention. I hope you give yourself a moment to look Godward today. It's the thing I need most to remember--the breath that gives me life.

Blessings on your day!

A Prayer and a Thought

Sitting with my journal in the early morning sunlight this morning, I felt the summer drawing to a close. School for me--my final year in seminary--begins tomorrow. In two weeks the boys go back to school; football, marching band, regular classes all commence. This morning is a deep reflective and grateful pause before the beginning of the busy--and abundant--harvest time. I looked back through my journal and found the following entry, dated July 1, 2005. I wanted to share it with you.

Truly, O God, I give this day to You as best I can, my Father and maker of All There Is. You O Lord are the center of All, the center of Everything, the Light and Source and Being in which we share. Each blade of grass arises from you; each breeze returns to You, each sound is but a love whisper from Yourself to Yourself. This is truly, my Father's world.

When I become fixated on seeking my own perfection, focus on the Father's perfection.
When I begin to worry about my forgetfulness, remember how God never forgets.
When I worry about my health, lean into God, who cannot be sick.
When I start to thrash against my flaws, consider how Hashem has no flaws.

When I relax, the world is good.
When I am tight, the world is threatening.
When I am hurting, the world is dark.
When I am joyful, the world is bright.
What, then, is the world?
What, then, am I?

Giving the Apple Back

I was talking with a wonderful friend over coffee this morning and the topic turned to the many ways in which we struggle with the idea of control in our lives. The idea that we can control life--if we just try hard enough, do the right things, play by the rules, and get a little bit of luck--seems to have something to do with that original bite of the apple from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Metaphorically I must take bites from a dozen apples every day! The temptation is always there to make the choice myself, to go my own way, rather than stop-look-pray-and-listen for God's leading on a particular decision or event. What I am learning--slowly, gradually--is to ask God about things before I rush off to do them my way. And when I do forget God (and I do more often than I wish I would), I don't run away and cover myself in fig leaves, but come back to God, apple in hand, showing him what I did and asking him to help me remember him first next time.

I wonder what the outcome of the Genesis story would have been if Adam and Eve could have trusted God enough to be honest with him and welcome him into the middle of their imperfections? I think God loves it when we do that. But if we're waiting to be perfect before we invite God in, we'll continue hiding and keeping him out. There's just no un-biting that apple. But we can notice--and be honest with ourselves and with God--when we do it. And that, faithfully done, sooner or later clears away all the blocks in our relationship with God--and maybe even with each other. :)

Looking Up

This morning I was sitting out on the deck watching the ducks at the feeder. The smaller birds, sparrows and finches, were busy at the newly filled feeder, one on each perch. Three ducks stood below them, eagerly gathering the seeds the smaller birds dropped. I noticed that one of the three ducks had learned to look up--to watch the smaller birds and anticipate the falling seeds. It was a curious site, seeing this one duck who had figured out the mystery of the manna falling from the sky. The other two ducks never looked up at all...they didn't seem to care one way or another where the seed was coming from. They were totally focused on eating what was already there.

I found that I identify with the duck looking up...I'm always watching for God, always anticipating the blessing, always considering the source. The other ducks around me don't always understand that, and I guess it can get a bit tiresome if you're hungry. And sometimes I get a crick in my neck. :) But it's something about the way we're made--us odd ducks--and the older I get, the more I like it. :)

Wisdom from Mother Teresa

I'm reading the book There's a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem by Dr. Wayne Dyer right now, and I'm finding a lot in it that is helpful and rings true. He speaks a lot about the need to reconnect with God when the things of the world weigh us down. One section I read gave a series of proverbs given by Mother Teresa...I want to keep them in my heart and mind as I go through the day, and I thought I'd share them with you, too:

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you. Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone may destroy overnight. Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow. Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough. Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is all between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

Isn't that wonderful? Words to hold on to...peace and blessings on your day! :)

Oh God, Bring Peace

This morning we awake to news of violence against your children in London, O God. What a sad oneness we share with all those who know the sound and face of terror, who wander the streets in shock, who desperately search for loved ones. We can still feel the heat and ash from the terror of 9/11; our bodies have recorded the sounds of the sirens; our minds play, rewind, and play again images from that time. We ask you to enfold in a blanket of tender care and peace all those who have ever been touched by terror, Lord, because wherever in the world your children are attacked, we all hurt as one. Calm our fears and bring peace, we pray. Comfort the families and let them know your presence in a very real way. Sustain those responding to the emergency that their hearts and minds may be protected and kept clear so they know just what to do for your children.

This is not the life you'd planned for us, O God, when you created paradise and set it before us to name and nurture. You wanted to walk with us in true communion, laughing, sharing stories, loving, trusting, experiencing abundant joy and honoring our very lives by enjoying them fully with you. Enfold us all, O God, because we're suffering individually and as a world as our belief in the promise of Goodness and Mercy is shaken yet again. The darkness can cover it, but cannot put it out. Love wins, Lord. Peace reigns. We have your word that even now, in the smoke and tears and heartbreak, the kingdom of God is within us. Take our hands and help us find it, Lord, because just now the aftermath of unthinkable destruction is clouding our eyes.

May God be tenderly present in an unmistakable way with the people of London--and with us all--today.

Amen.

God Doesn't Have Any Grandchildren

Friday morning Cameron and I took Christopher to Interlochen for a six-week long camp in Composition. Interlochen is an amazing and wonderful place, filled with musicians and instructors from all over the world. I feel it is the opportunity of a lifetime (hopefully one of many) for Christopher. But instead of feeling joyful and excited for him, I am walking around like there's a big hole in my heart. My face is sad; I'm irritable; I'm barely listening to people. Last night at dinner people told stories and laughed and I felt like I was in a cloud, hardly able to hear them. I realized as I said goodbye to my mom, when she looked deep into my eyes and said, "You'll be all right," that I was grieving. I am grieving. Life doesn't feel right--my son is eight hours away and beyond my reach. The fact that it's a great blessing doesn't seem to take away the hurt.

I was praying in the shower, apologizing to God for being so ungrateful and grumpy. I asked to know what was causing me such pain. Suddenly a thought flashed in my head: I'm not trusting God with my children. My pain was coming from the side of my rational mind that tells me I'm the one who needs to smooth the way for my children; I keep them safe; I encourage them and calm their anxious moments. If I'm eight hours away, how can I do that? How can I know he's cared for? What happens if he gets scared or hurt or someone's mean to him?

I remembered the phrase "God doesn't have any grandchildren," which means that my son Christopher (and Cameron and Kelly) are all God's children, just as I am God's child. God is with them in the same way God is with me--right now, every moment, in full knowing of what is best for me. God is working to draw them into deeper relationship with Him just the same way He is working in my life. God isn't a generation removed from my children, dispensing grace and love and hope through me. God dispenses His own love and grace directly to each of us, every moment, in every thought and every breath.

I feel a little lighter now, knowing Whose job it really is to keep Christopher safe and fed and happy. It's the One Who Knows the number of hairs on our heads and knows when the smallest sparrow falls. Thank God.

Celebrate!

For the month of June, I've been filling in for the chaplain and running Spirituality groups for the adult and adolescent inpatients. I absolutely love it. I have met so many wondering people and we all talk about the spiritual values we share as humans--love, kindness, honesty, gratitude, acceptance, caring--no matter what our religious affiliations might be. It is a time of coming together in truth, gentleness, and sharing. Healing is happening right before our eyes. It's amazing what God can do when a few of us gather...

I found the following entry in a book called, "The Language of Letting Go," by Melody Beattie. Melody is a wonderful writer who writes about recovery issues (I think she is famous for a book called "Codependent No More," although I haven't read that one yet.) But I found this entry in her book yesterday and it washed over me like a cool drink of water on a hot day...I wanted to share it with you this morning in the hopes that it blesses you, too:

Take time to celebrate. Celebrate your successes, your growth, your accomplishments. Celebrate you and who you are.

For too long you have been hard on yourself. Others have spilled their negative energy--their attitudes, beliefs, pain--on you. It had nothing to do with you! All along, you have been a gift to yourself and to the Universe.

You are a child of God. Beautiful, a delight, a joy. You do not have to try harder, be better, be perfect, or be anything you are not. Your beauty is in you, just as you are in each moment.

Celebrate that.

When you have a success, when you accomplish anything, enjoy it. Pause, reflect, rejoice. Too long you have listened to admonitions not to feel good about what you have done, lest you travel the downward road to arrogance.

Celebration is a high form of praise, of gratitude to the Creator for the beauty of God's creation. To enjoy and celebrate the good does not mean that it will be taken from you. To celebrate is to delight in the gift, to show gratitude.

Celebrate your relationships! Celebrate the lessons from the past and the love and warmth that is there today. Enjoy the beauty of others and their connection to you.

Celebrate all that is in your life. Celebrate all that is good. Celebrate you!

May God help us to open our hearts fully to receive--and celebrate--all the many blessings we are given in this day! Amen. :) k

French Lessons

For some reason, I took eight years of French in school. Four years in elementary/middle school; and four years in high school. My plan was to go to France with my best friend Marie after graduation. But life intervened, and I moved to Muncie to manage a pet store and Marie married a computer programmer from Vietnam. Our freshman year in high school, Marie and I would do silly things like go to Casual Corner at the mall and speak French to each other (badly, I'm sure). The salesperson would come up and ask whether she could help us and Marie would explain that I was her cousin from France and didn't speak a word of English. She would use a horrible French-American accent (which probably sound more like New Orleans than anything) and we would dissolve in laughter after the poor unassuming salesperson walked away, completely convinced we had totally fooled her.

So that's about the extent of my French ability--lots of invested time and study energy for very little gain...a dream that was never realized and an embarrassing memory of how cool I wasn't in high school. :) But this morning, I woke up thinking about the phrase avec pleasure (not sure I spelled that right), but it means, of course "with pleasure." The thought was, when we're doing something, why not do it avec pleasure? Isn't that the essence of joy, of gratitude? What about the phrase, "It's my pleasure," when someone says "thank you." Do we mean it when we say that? I want to. I want to think more about pleasure, enjoyment, life abundant. I think it honors God. And it makes the sun shine brighter.

Hey, maybe French class gave me something after all. :)

One Perfectly Enjoyable Moment

This morning as I was driving along a beautiful road with overhanging trees and filtered sunlight, I thought about what it would feel like to be so in tune with our lives that we experienced perfect enjoyment of even a single moment. Somewhere deep inside I believe that our sacred appreciation of a day, or a moment, or a hug, or an experience honors God in a way a thousand wordy prayers cannot. I have this feeling that if we were able to feel--even for the slightest instant--completely full, completely happy, completely at peace, completely whole--it would be all we would need to fill our lives with divine bliss forever. I'm not going to work too hard to find that sense of enjoyment because I think the effort drives it away...it has to emerge naturally, simply, like a rosebud opening. But I'm going to hold on to the idea that it's possible, that it will dawn on us suddenly like a rainbow in the clouds, grace of the highest order, reflecting God's smile deep within our souls for all eternity.

A Meditation on Success

You, O God, are continually about the business of creation. A bird sings, a sky lightens, a breeze lifts, leaves rustle, a world awakens, fresh and new. I breathe in the sweet world you've given us for yet another day and feel uplifted and renewed; I join with you in celebrating its Goodness. What more than this, O God, do we need for a successful day? To breathe in the wonder and gift of each new person who crosses our path; to embrace and give thanks for the moments--no matter what emotions they carry--that lead us still closer to you. Instead of running out into the world chasing plans and ideas that might ultimately prove Good, perhaps success lies in simply allowing ourselves to shine like the candles we are, burning forth in gratitude and hope, lighting the way for each other while expressing your Divine Principle, your saving grace. We participate in your on-going creation by being the loving beings through which you bring light into the darkness. Help us, O God, to recognize we are a continuing, contributing part of your creation and to relax into the knowing that our attunement with you is the only real success we ever need. Amen.

Help When We Need It

My dad told me a story about something mysterious that happened when I was born in a hospital in Decatur, Illinois in the early 60s. My mom had been very sick and she went into labor six weeks early. When I arrived, no one expected me to live because my lungs were full of fluid and I was unable to breathe on my own. My dad was working in Chicago at the time and remembers the phone call he received from my grandmother: Instead of saying “You have a baby daughter,” she said, “You’d better make funeral arrangements.”

When my father arrived in Decatur the next morning, he didn’t know what he would find at the hospital. To his surprise, the nurse led him to the nursery window, where he could look in and see me in an incubator—tiny, red, but still alive. The nurse told him that she’d heard that a young intern had sat beside my bed all night long, squeezing a bulb aspirator that manually inflated my tiny lungs until they were strong and dry enough to begin taking over on their own. When morning arrived, the young intern disappeared without a word—and no one on the floor knew who he was, where he came from, or where he went.

I have noticed throughout my life that in every sad, scary, or tragic circumstance, there are always people—some might say, angels—who are there to help us in one form or another. A person has just the answer we need when we’re trying to figure out how to solve a big problem. Just when we give up trying to find directions to a place we’re trying to find, we discover the road we’ve been looking for. In a moment when we’re feeling hopeless and discouraged, a friend shows up with something that lifts our spirits. We get messages of hope in songs, in prayers, in smiles, in sunrises.

It reminds me of a story I heard a long time ago in which a father and daughter are sitting on the front porch when the little girl hears the sound of a siren not far away. She looks worried and says to her dad, “I hate to hear that sound—I know it means somebody is hurt somewhere.” Her dad thought for a moment and then hugged her tight. “It might mean they are hurting right this moment,” he said, “but it also means help is on the way.”

My hope for us today is that we remember that help is all around us in the moments we need it most, and that even when we’re hurt, sick, frightened, or confused help is on the way.

God's Prayers

This morning I was reading Carolyn Myss's book Why People Don't Heal and How They Can in preparation for a paper I'm writing on the role of religion in American medicine. She had just related a story a woman shared in one of her workshops: in the midst of a near-fatal traffic accident, the woman had an out-of-body experience in which she saw what was happening from a hundred feet above the accident. She could hear how people were reacting in the cars behind hers on the busy expressway--some were traumatized by what they saw, some were panicking about being late for appointments, and from one car about five cars back, she saw a beautiful swirl of light, coming up to the clouds and going back to her car. She realized the woman was praying for her. I loved that image and imagined someone in need suddenly receiving in a very real way beautiful swirls of light from everyone who comes to support them in prayer.

Just then, the sun broke through the clouds for the first time this morning and touched my shoulder and the back of my head. Feeling the warmth, I thought, "Oh, there goes God again, praying for us." What a wonderful idea! That our beloved Creator not only knows, loves, guides, protects, and walks with us through our days, but sends the kiss of prayer to our lives daily, moment by moment, in beautiful swirls of light and love we can experience in any moment we are willing.

Enjoy the swirls of light that come your way today!

God's Answering Machine

I just love this poem I read in the Writer's Almanac newsletter this morning and wanted to share it with you. I think of my own voice and my face over dinner each day, with my hungry kids waiting, forks poised, and my husband hoping I don't launch into anything other than the usual, "Please bless our family and our food, and thank you for this day" kind of prayer. In my heart, I would love for that moment to be about thanking God for all the good things that have happened that day...but everyone else seems to see it as a gateway to mealtime. Ah well. Perhaps one day they will have an experience like this author had:


Grace
by Linda Pastan, from The Last Uncle © W.W. Norton.

When the young professor folded
his hands at dinner and spoke to God
about my safe arrival
through the snow, thanking Him also
for the food we were about to eat,
it was in the tone of voice I use
to speak to friends when I call
and get their answering machines,
chatting about this and that
in a casual voice,
picturing them listening
but too busy to pick up the phone,
or out taking care of important
business somewhere else.
The next day, flying home
through a windy
and overwhelming sky, I knew
I envied his rapport with God
and hoped his prayers
would keep my plane aloft.

Rugged and Old

Occasionally I bump into people I know I could never have met without divine assistance. Not long ago, I had one of those blessed contacts. It was a chance meeting with a man my father's age. In the middle of our brief conversation, he suddenly said, "Would you like to hear how I came to know the Lord?"

He told me that 35 years ago, he'd been in a bar with his best friend on a Friday night. They were doing the usual--drinking, smoking, killing time. On this particular night, the bar manager decided to open up the stage for a kind of singing contest. It was before the days of Karaoke, but something similar. Although he'd never wanted to be up in front of a crowd before, he jumped to his feet. "Come with me," he said to his friend. The friend looked at him like he was crazy for a minute and then agreed. They made their way to the stage.

Together they turned the pages on the songbook, trying to find a song they both knew. There was only one they both recognized: "The Old Rugged Cross." The man looked at me incredulously and shook his head. "I have no idea how I knew that song," he said. "I'd never been to church in my life. I had never thought twice about God before that."

He and his friend began to sing the hymn. He laughed, remembering. "You should have seen that place clear out! I think they thought the roof was going to fall in."

But then his eyes filled with tears. "You know, after we finished singing, I went back to my seat. But God was already working with me. The words of that song were sinking in. After that, I started noticing God wherever I went. That's what started it all...and I'm so grateful to him."

Thank you, God, for your consistent, constant, abiding welcome; for the way in which you touch us and reach us; for the amazing and creative ways you hold us close. Thank you for loving us so much that you come and stay with us wherever we are--in a smokey bar, stuck in traffic, sitting in a cubicle, alone in the kitchen, or in the middle of a congregation on a Sunday morning. We thank you for the softening and transforming that's happening in our hearts even now. May we be a blessing to you and to each other this day. Amen.

New Steps

Last Friday I was walking across the Earlham campus, heading toward my car. All was quiet except for a cardinal singing in the top of an ancient tree; the snow stretched before me, a collection of interweaving and dividing paths, memories of others who had journeyed this way before me.

As I trudged toward my car, I suddenly noticed that I was very intentionally (but unconsciously) stepping into places that still offered fresh snow--I was making new footprints and not stepping into the steps of those who'd gone before. I was curious about the change in me. I remember, as a child, carefully stepping into existing footprints to avoid getting snow in my shoes, slipping on unnoticed ice, or experiencing that unpleasant sensation of stepping on ice covered snow for a bare moment and then falling through--crunch!--to the soft snow underneath.

But on this day, for whatever reason, I had mysteriously made a shift from path follower to trail maker. Looking back, my footsteps showed where I came from and how direct (and indirect!) the path had been.

May we each feel a renewed sense of readiness and confidence as we create our own footsteps--together with God--through the adventure of our day! :)

Bits of Glass

I saw on the Writer's Almanac newsletter I receive every morning that today is the birthday of Anton Chekov. The last quote of the article is attributed to him: "Chekhov said, "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."


I know of my work in chaplaincy how the circumstances in our lives can get broken when something upsetting, frightening, or tragic occurs. Telling someone "God loves you and is with you" doesn't help because it's far and distant--like the moon--even though I believe it is certainly true. But helping someone (and this goes for my own brokenness, too) notice where in their lives God is reflected in those broken pieces...where is God working in our lives today?...brings the realization that nothing--not illness, injury, loss, calamity, poverty, doubt, anger, or failure--can separate us from God's love. God's here right now. We just need to let ourselves look at the broken pieces and see the reflection.

First One Out There

This morning I was sitting at the table in the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee cupped my hands, looking out at the bitterly cold morning. The sun was just beginning to light the sky. A lone duck swam across the lake. A few stars still glimmered in the west. And suddenly the song of a bird came, loud and clear, ringing out from one of the trees beside the house.

A bird? Singing? It's six degrees! I thought, as a feeling of warmth and remembering--and gratitude--swept through me. How odd and wonderful and brave of that little bird to find something to sing about when it's six degrees and the sun isn't even up yet. How amazing that God whispers in the ear of a dove to bring an olive branch back to Noah to give him a sign of land. How perfect that we can sometimes be signs of hope for each other long before our relationships are healed, our health improves, our burdens lighten. May we each be aware of the signs of hope we are for each other today and have our eyes and hearts open to receive the hope others bring to us.

Blessings on your day!

Transcendent God

The curator of a local museum, the Eiteljorg, was interviewed on our public radio station this morning, and she described a new Georgia O'Keefe exhibit opening tomorrow. She talked about O'Keefe's ability to find the infinite in the most earthy places. This reminds me of some of my favorite saints--St. Teresa of Avila, St. Francis of Assisi, St. John of the Cross. Something about finding God in the guts and reality of our lives really moves me. It's as though the closer we get to God the more we find Him--not as a distant Sunday abstraction--but right here, in the ice on the sidewalk and the new laugh lines around our eyes. God seems to call us deeper into an embrace with our own creatureliness, our humanity, and we are so surprised--and overjoyed!--to find Him there. Our journey isn't as far as we thought.

Here's something about O'Keefe I found on the Eiteljorg's web site (art image is from Art.com)"In "Pelvis with Distance" (1943), [O'Keefe] painted the sky through the hole of a bleached pelvis bone that she had picked up in the northern New Mexico desert. O’Keeffe painted pelvis bones because she “was most interested in the holes in the bones—what I saw through them—particularly the blue from holding them up in the sun against the sky.”

“When I stand alone with the earth and sky, a feeling of something in me going off in every direction into the unknown of infinity means more to me than anything any organized religion gives me.” --Georgia O'Keefe

May we feel the stretching and spreading of our souls today, as we experience all that God delights to give us.

Well Said

I ran across this quote in a book this morning. It's actually the epitaph of Benjamin Franklin. It made me smile (and nod inside):

The Body of

B. Franklin,

Printer;

Like the Cover of an old Book,

Its Contents torn out,

And stript of its Lettering and Gilding,

Lies here, Food for Worms.

But the Work shall not be wholly lost:

For it will, as he believ'd, appear once more,

In a new & more perfect Edition,

Corrected and amended

By the Author.

Thank God the Author for his continual care and tender molding of us, his Works in Progress. :)

Praying for the Wounded Soul of the World

I read this amazing passage in Flora Slossen Wuellner's book, Prayer, Stress, & Our Inner Wounds and felt it was an appropriate thought to lift up in light of the tsunami tragedy and the continuing heartbreak in Iraq and the Middle East:

"I first began to think seriously about this form of prayer when I was asked to lead a retreat for a church that had recently lost its pastor under circumstances agonizingly traumatic for both pastor and people. As I sat with the group of lay leaders in the church parlor and we talked and prayed together, I became aware that I was not sitting with just a group of hurting bewildered individuals. It was as if the group there had a personality, a soul of its own, that was wounded. I shared my impression, and we began to pray for the wounded memory of the group, as if the group were one person."

What groups are you part of? Has there been a sadness, a frustration, a hurt in your home, in your office, at your church? Is there division and heartache, loss and grief? I love this idea that we can pray for the soul of our families, the spirit of our church, the healing of our nation, the Divine Light of our world . This is prayer on a big, transformative scale, and another way to touch and bless and honor the shared life God has given us.

Unfathomable

The huge wave of the tsunami continues to sweep over us...a horror of tragedy, unspeakable loss, indescribable pain and fear. I've been watching and praying, praying and watching. Remember how Jesus wept over Jerusalem? If we believe that God grieves with us (and I do), how must God's heart be breaking now over such unspeakable pain his children are experiencing? If God loves us with a depth we can't even imagine, how intense must this horror be for him? I pray God brings us all peace and healing and enables us to bring light even into this darkness. Especially I pray for those precious ones having survived this nightmare who now face the days ahead having lost everything--everything--except perhaps the One who, knowingly or unknowingly, grieves with them. God, give us your grace and comfort. And we will do our best to dry your tears.

An Exercise in Futility

Well, my lesson this morning was not as warm and wonderful as yesterday's. Today what I learned had more to do with a battle of wills that I had no choice but to lose. It was outside my control. I was met with an insurmountable obstacle. And his name is Edgar:

I knew that the medicine I was trying to give Edgar would help his breath and make him easier to cuddle on these long winter evenings. I knew that the result (because Edgar loves nothing more in the world than to sit on your lap and have his ears scratched) would be worth the temporary angst brought about by taking and swallowing the liquid medicine. But Edgar was having none of it. And I mean none of it. We struggled for several minutes. I tried a dozen different ways. Each time Edgar flipped up and around, doing everything he could to dodge the medicine, to escape my embrace, to avoid my hands. I finally let out a totally exasperated "Aaaarrrrgggg!!!!" and put him back down on the floor, where he stood looking at me innocently (was that a victorious gleam in his eye?) and wondering when I'd be giving him his breakfast.

I like to start out my mornings with peace, solitude, prayer, quiet. Good feelings. Quiet time with God. But here I stood, in the kitchen, with my heart thumping in my chest and my blood coursing through my veins. I was mad. I'd been bested by a 15-pound Bichon Frise with the worst dog breath I've ever experienced. We call his condition "death breath" and he really needs this medication--otherwise, someday, somebody is going to melt or turn to stone when he breathes on them!

I'd run up against a wall that just wasn't going to move. I'd hit the limit of my ability to control the situation. Suddenly I felt a kinship with the friend whose teenager is totally ignoring her rules about curfew. I felt a stab of understanding for the friend whose father is being transformed by Alzheimer's, who often acts in a way no one else can anticipate or control. I understood the frustration of friends know with bosses who won't listen, spouses who won't forgive, parents who can't forget, bodies that won't heal, ideas that won't go away, addictions that can't be conquered, jobs that can't be found, and homes where peace just doesn't come.

God, please give us the grace to accept the things we cannot change and show us the next step you want us to take. Enable us to relax into your arms in those moments when we hit the wall of someone else's will or circumstances that are beyond our control. Show us what we can do to bring light into our dark times. And give us the courage to follow where you lead. We usually don't know why things are as they are, but we know--and claim--that you love us and know us and are with us in our struggle, and in our peace. The moments that we can't control can offer us jewels of wisdom. Helps us accept those jewels, dear God, and watch for you to show us how these moments can be transformed in your love.

(And please, God, would you do something about Edgar's breath?)

Love to you all today! :) k

Small Things, Faithfully Done

This morning as I awoke I was still hearing the trailing end of a pleasant dream, in which a man's voice said, "Small things, faithfully done, make for a good life." I felt so peaceful when I awoke! Throughout the day, I began to notice small things I might have otherwise missed--getting breakfast for the boys, cuddling the dogs, feeding the cat, telling my husband I loved him, thinking good thoughts about the future, saying a quick prayer, feeling my heart respond to someone's sadness, caring so much and so deeply about so many things. Small things in our day, faithfully, faith-fully done, bring God into our hearts and through us, into our lives--and maybe that light will spill over into someone else's day.

So whether your tasks are big or small today, take heart! You're creating something good. :)

All of Who We Are

This morning wisdom is on my mind. Isn't it amazing to think that all our experiences--from our very earliest moments with our parents, to our most recent interaction with a stranger on the street--is teaching us what we need to know about life? As amazing and spiritual nerve endings, we receive and respond to every happening--internal and external--in our day. The amount of input and output is staggering. Think about it: each time you pet the dog, each time you look up from your work, each time you remember God, each time you forgive yourself, hope for something, feel a wave of sadness, laugh with a friend, you are contributing to the creation of life in this very day.

Wisdom comes pouring from us through all of who we are--through our gifts and our blind spots, from our painful past experiences as the moments that gave us the greatest joy. Miraculously, the wisdom born of the understanding that bubbles up from that still, small voice is available to us in every single moment and act of our lives. We only need to turn the volume of the world down a bit in order to hear it. Even--and maybe especially--in the midst of the rush of the holidays, the wisdom that radiates from all of who we are shines out of us like star atop a Christmas tree.

May you shine bright and proud, knowing that every moment of your life up to this very minute has prepared you to give all of who you are today. We are ready. We are grateful. Shine away! And watch God smile. :)

All Is Well

My dear friend Susan sent the following post to me from an Internet newsletter she receives called Inspiration Peak. It's wonderful! See whether it speaks to you, too:

"How would you feel if you had no fear?
Feel like that.

How would you behave toward other people
if you realized their powerlessness to hurt you?
Behave like that.

How would your react to so-called misfortune
if you saw its inability to bother you?
React like that.

How would you think toward yourself
if you knew you were really all right?
Think like that."

-- Vernon Howard

Holiday Peace

May your gathering this holiday--no matter where you are or who you're with--be filled with divine peace:

• P for experiencing the continual Presence of God
  
  
• E for the Everlasting Love God has for us
  
  
• A for a sense of Angelic Protection and Companionship
  
  
• C for the Care and Kindness we share with others
  
  
• E for a sense of Eternity, which we are living in this moment and all moments.

This holiday, we have much to be thankful for, but to my way of thinking, nothing beats this: We have a God who loves us, who seeks us, who desires our companionship and walks with us through every day, circumstance, trial, and blessing. May we open our hearts to receive a full understanding of this greatest gift and remember, in gratitude, to offer it freely to each other.

Blessings on your holiday!

The Better Angels of Our Nature

For some reason this phrase has been floating around in my head this morning. I looked it up and found that it is from Lincoln's first inaugural address. It seems uncannily timely now:

We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stre[t]ching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

May our "mystic chords" of unity be touched again--as surely they will be--and may we even today recognize and welcome those better angels who, as the Talmud says, bend over each blade of grass (and each of us), whispering "Grow! Grow! Grow!"

Peace

This day, above all days, is a day of peace. In the hours that stretch before you, God will walk with you and show you where your gifts are needed--a kindness here, a forgiving word there, a touch, a hope, a dream, a vision. Walk in peace today, Dear One, knowing that God takes each step with you, smiling each time your heart responds so naturally in love to those brought across your path.

Grace-Filled Moments

Sunday night, around 1:30 AM, I was called in to the hospital to be with a family who was experiencing a sudden, shocking tragedy. I hurried to the emergency room, full of prayer and confidence that God was already there before me, uplifting, holding, comforting. I walked into the midst of a large gathering of people experiencing every emotion you could imagine--shock, anger, panic, fear, desperate heartache, hopelessness, confusion, bewilderment. But over the next three hours, I was able to see God work, bringing calm, understanding, comfort, and community. Their pain wasn't gone and won't be gone--maybe for months, or years, maybe never. This family, I knew, was changed forever by the loss of their beloved one. But God's grace was there--with each of us individually and together as a group--and as the moments moved quietly by, I saw hurting, scattered people come together and find a sense of peace in their sharing. Even in this darkest moment, they together found support and strength enough to face the day.

I can say without any doubt--because I have seen it over and over again--that Grace is always there, even (and especially) in the moments we are most broken. Knowing that, the words "Be not afraid" become more real, alive, and possible for me. What is there to fear, when we have the certainty that God is working now and in every moment, and that nothing--not shock, anger, panic, fear, desperate heartache, hopelessness, confusion, or bewilderment, not even death itself--can separate us from God's Love?

Hope

I have never in my life been so hopeful on the eve of a national election. And it doesn't have anything to do with who the eventual winner might be--it has everything to do with how awake, aware, and passionate our people are right now. No matter what our views on the issues or the leaders, we care. We are speaking. We are stepping out. We are thinking things through and weighing things out. We are leaning toward our television sets, watching debates in record numbers, registering to vote like never before.

In this election, kids with cell phones barely past voting age have a voice. They are welcomed and wanted--whether they have green hair and pierced eyebrows or button-down collars and Ivy League educations. This election, there is a unifying force--we care. If we were as cynical, disgusted, fed up, and hopeless as we sometimes say we are when it comes to our flawed political system, why would we lift our voices, pass along emails, drive to see candidates, watch the latest news reports, or take the time to vote?

Tonight, on this election eve, I want to jump up and down and say, "Our hope is alive, America!"--and it's right here where God put it, closer than our own heartbeats, in the vision we share of a better world.

Faithful to the Wistful Longing

Leave it up to God to remind me that my reminiscent longing to trail my fingers in the water and be thankful to Him is okay, too. I discussed this passage from Thomas Kelly's A Testament of Devotion yesterday with some friends and thought, "Oh my--that's just what I wrote about this morning!":

Some of you know this holy,recreating Center of eternal peace and joy and live in it day and night. Some of you may see it over the margin and wistfully long to slip into that amazing Center where the soul is at home with God. Be very faithful to that wistful longing. It is the Eternal Goodness calling you to return Home, to feed upon green pastures and walk beside still waters and live in the peace of the Shepherd's presence. It is the life beyond fevered strain.

I love it when something I discover in my day connects so purely with a thought or a leading I've just had. I'm beginning to think that Synchronicity is God's middle name. :)

Enjoy your day!

Add a Comment!

I'm excited--thanks to my daughter (who has now officially surpassed me in technical knowledge), I learned how to add comments to my site. So if you think of an idea or story you want to share--or you just want to say hello--you can click the Comment link at the bottom of each post and add your own message. You've been listening to me for a long time--now you can write and tell me about the wonderful and surprising places God shows up in your life!

Healing Grace

I awoke this morning with a sense of heaviness about the day. I have a lot to do. Obligations I've taken on. Time that needs to be spent on things that matter. Yet inside there's a pressure, a longing, a desire to luxuriate in this Saturday as though I were floating on the lake in a summer afternoon: kicking back, trailing my fingers in the warm water, feeling exuberantly thankful for the blue sky, the warm sun, for God.

But it's not summer anymore, and the fall winds are whipping the curtains against the windowsill and spiraling leaves around the yard. Sparrows glide effortlessly from one tree to the next, riding the wind currents deftly, not thrown by the blustery winds or worried--in this moment, anyway--about preparing for the winter.

What is it about using our gifts that enables us to let go of what we thought we wanted and instead find such joy and gratitude in what we have? Being who I am, doing what I do, and being thankful for it (that's the part I so often forget), dissolves that longing for the "time that was" and fills me with soul-deep gratitude that I can spend this busy morning in the presence of the "One that Is."

May you enjoy this Saturday--and the One you are spending it with!

Holding Life Up for Us To See

I was reading the daily entry from the book Listening To Your Life, and I found this wonderful thought from Frederick Beuchner today:

"The task of the preacher is to hold up life to us; by whatever gift he or she has of imagination, eloquence, simple candor, to create images of life through which we can somehow see into the wordless truth of our lives."

Isn't that powerful? I think it's not something only "preachers" can do but rather something we each can show each other in the mirror of our hearts...you find yourself in me and my experiences, and I find myself in you and yours. Doesn't that sound just like God to think of something so wonderful?

Night Falls

I'M NOTICING MORE TIME FOR QUIET in the fall, more time for twilight, more clouds, more leaves, more stillness. As I walk along the path, it's as though the whole world has been padded just so that my footfalls won't echo too loudly, so that I can hear and tenderly hold the thoughts that are coming together in my mind, so that I can cherish the vital, life-giving surge of gratitude in my heart. There are a million unseen things going on as fall prepares the world for winter. Likewise, there is a lot going on beneath my surface these days, as seeds are scattered and turned under the soil, leaves ride the wind and float to the ground, and my roots reach deep into the earth, ready to nestle for a long and peaceful rest in the arms of God. :)


The beautiful image shown above is a card from the Nature Gallery; Ron Mellott, Photographer.

Letting Go

If I can just let go of...

...who I think I am

...who I want you to perceive me to be

...how I'm supposed to act

...what I should think

...how I ought to see

...and how I think I should respond,

I'll be really here, really free, really ready to experience you and celebrate whatever our spirits want to share in this moment.

Heart or Head

This morning I was thinking about everything I have to do today and feeling a bit overwhelmed. I made a list of MUSTs and noticed a knot of anxiousness in my stomach. I let myself explore that tension a little bit, took a few deep breaths, and reminded myself I really wanted the things I do today to be about love, to flow from my heart and not just from my head.

When I do things from the heart, I am not acting out of fear of letting someone down, failing others' expectations of me, not measuring up, or any other ego-based punishment. I am acting simply because the openness of Love must give...flowing freely outward, expanding, lifting, playing, swirling.

I felt a huge internal shift when I asked myself what it would feel like to do those same things simply because they poured out of my heart, not because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't get them done on time. I remembered Brother Lawrence, washing pots and pans for God. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to do everything in your day simply because you love God? It's worth trying, anyway. I'll let you know how it turns out. :)

Listening to God

This morning the entry in one of my daily devotionals, In God's Care, was about the voice of the ego. As I reflected, I recognized it--the voice of the ego is continually changing, either inflating or deflating us. One moment it tells us we're great, smart, and powerful; and the next it tells us we're insignificant, small, and weak. It expands us in pride or reduces us in shame. The changing of the message seems to have to do with the circumstances outside us--if something big happens that makes us feel stupid, the ego chastizes us; if something wonderful happens that makes us feel capable, the ego sings our praises. Neither of these happenings have to do with what or who we really are. That's what the voice of God within us tells us: "Beloved, Beloved, Beloved."

I believe that God's voice is constant and pure--not rushing, not shouting, not trying to make a point. God's voice gently, consistently reminds us of our deepest truth--we are loved and loving, purposeful and precious--just the way we are.

[Note: In God's Care is a small devotional book published for individuals and families recovering from addictions. I found In God's Care not long after I began to realize the effect growing up in an alcholic home had had on me. It was truly a Godsend at a difficult time of self-disdovery. ]
 

Getting There

A little while ago, I was sitting outside reading and watching the ducks take their naps under the tree, when a neighbor three doors down came running out on his deck, waving his arms in the air and yelling, "Rahhh!"

The geese who had been standing serenely along the edge of the pond on his property took a few steps toward the lake but appeared not to take him seriously. He stood at the top of the steps and fumed. I'd never seen him before and I stifled a laugh as I saw him move his arms and take a fast, angry drag off a cigarette. He looked like a cousin of Danny DeVito's, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt and blue shorts. He stomped around on his deck and said, "Rah!" a couple of times with less passion and then just stood there by the railing and glared.

I went back to reading my book, not wanting to embarrass him in case he looked over at me, and after a few minutes I looked up again. To my surprise, he had pulled a chair close to the railing and was sitting, leaning back, looking out over the pond. Soon he got up, went inside, and came back out with a book. He returned to his chair and seemed ready to enjoy the remainder of the morning. The geese still stood in the same spot, unperturbed, peaceful.

Although I'd first felt the man's outburst was silly, I began to wonder whether God had another motive going on behind the scenes. Perhaps our anger, our frustration, our outrage sometimes propels us into places where we find clarity, clearness, peace. Maybe we launch out onto our decks to rage against an injustice and find that the day is blessing us with light and cool breezes and beauty. In any case, perhaps even our moments of greatest intolerance have a purpose in bringing us closer to God's Grace. That, it seems to me, would be just like him.

How Much More for Us

Yesterday in between all my projects and family responsibilities, I was privileged to watch the almost-birth of a rose. I noticed early in the morning that the bud was beginning to open; I got my digital camera and captured images every half hour to see how quickly--or slowly--the transformation would occur. In the first two hours, the growth was amazing--the bud completely spread its lowest petals and I thought the whole flower was just going to burst open any minute. But about 10:30, the progress seemed to stall. I faithfully continued taking pictures for the next several hours, but nothing was happening. A wave of impatience--and discouragement--swept over me. What was the rose waiting for?

By midafternoon, I realized that the rose was done for the day. It had come so far, and then--nothing. I knew the rose would open eventually, but I was surprised that the growth wasn't steady and consistent. I had thought a rose would open a certain amount per hour, at a certain rate, in a certain way. But as I thought about it, I realized my own growth isn't consistent and steady--it happens in leaps and baby steps, it zigzags back and forth across dimensions, it loops back and skips and stumbles and finally drags itself forward another step, and then another, and then another. Growth in my life is often messy. Could it be that uneven growth--including cycles of effort and rest--is part of the natural cycle of creation? Even our own?

I resolved to let the rose be ("Maybe a watched rose never blooms," I thought), and I put away my camera. I had made my peace with the fact that the rose would bloom in its own time--and not according to my schedule.



This morning, bright and early, I went out to check the rose, expecting it to be in the same condition. Instead, I found an adult rose, huge and gorgeous and proud--full open, as though it had been there for days. I did a double-take, at first thinking it might not be the same rose. But it was.

I joyfully grabbed my camera and took a picture, thinking, "If God can do such amazing things with the blossom of a single rose, how much more can he do for us?"

May we each feel the transformation God is working in us today--seen or unseen--in the stubborn, unswerving hope that we are even now blossoming into a magnificent likeness of divine love.

A Meditation for Divine Presence

I read the following liturgy in kueuit, the newsletter from Alaska Children’s Services (http://www.acs.ak.org/), a residential center for children since 1890. The spiritual life director and the kids did this liturgy together and as I read it, standing in my quiet kitchen in Indiana, days and miles away, I could almost hear the sound of children's voices ringing in the air around me. The meditation brought me such peace and joy--I wanted to share it with you:

When we look into the horizon and try to picture where we want to go
God is beside us on the path
We are not alone, and though it sometimes feels that way
God is beside us on the path
When we have dreams and nightmares about where we’ll end up
God is beside us on the path
When we’ve been given so much advice that we wind up even more confused
God is beside us on the path
When we want the right school or the right home
God is beside us on the path
When we think we have what we want
God is beside us on the path
When we have to remember our sometimes ugly past
God is beside us on the path
God will walk with us
God is beside us on the path
God will carry us when we are tired
God is beside us on the path
We are servants of God
God is beside us on the path
God will never put us someplace we cannot handle
God is beside us on the path
God would never have us make decisions alone
God is beside us on the path
All things are possible
God is beside us on the path.

May we each feel God's presence in a very real, very near, very comforting way--and may we share our voices of hope with each other.

Infinite blessings! :) k

One Thing

From the movie City Slickers:

Curly: Do you know what the secret to life is? Holds up his index finger. This. One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and everything else don't mean nuthin.

Mitch: That's great, but what's the one thing?

Curly: That's what you gotta figure out.

Thank you, God, for being One and bringing us all together as One in you. :)

Now

Conditions required to make a flower. A bulb. Sun. Rain. More sun. Time. Air. More sun. Lots of time. Someone who appreciates it (otherwise it might be mowed down to make room for another shopping mall). More sun.

Conditions required to appreciate a flower. This moment, Now. A breath. A blink. An observer. An open heart, preferrably with hands for carrying a digital camera.

Thank you, God, for beauty, and for the eyes and heart to see it.

A Simple Thought

This morning a simple, joyful thought occurred to me as I was doing my morning reading, and I wanted to share it with you. If God created us to be his companions, to share his love and creation and to enable us to "love God and enjoy him forever," are we not fulfilling our very purpose for creation when we remember him and walk through our day, sharing our hopes, fears, dreams, wants, and gratitude with him?

It's so easy to get caught up in all the ways we feel we're not measuring up, the things we don't do right, the ways life disappoints or frustrates us. But this morning it occurred to me that simply by walking with him, we are fulfilling our purpose here on earth. Amazing. Simple. Beautiful.

Thank you, God!

The real battle

Yesterday when my son Christopher came down to breakfast, he was too queasy to eat. He had several solos in the big spring band concert last night and the anxiety was making him sick to his stomach. This morning, I sat in the rain and watched my son Cameron's baseball team take the field for the first time this year. I watched as each boy struggled with nervousness, embarrassment, risking failure in the hope of winning and maybe even having fun.

The battle, it seemed to me, was won or lost before each boy walked to the plate. His body language, his stride, the set of his cap and jaw, the expression on his face, all told whether doubt or faith was winning the battle within him. Was his fear of failure greater than his belief in himself? By the time the ball came flying over the plate, the boy's swing was just a continuation of the theme--winning or losing--that was already playing inside him.

I have noticed this phenomenon at instrumental competitions as well. Young men and women who have played performance pieces flawlessly at home stand outside contest rooms struggling with self-doubt and fear. They know they can play the piece they've practiced hundreds of times. That's not the question. But will they be able to do it now and here and in front of this judge?

The real battle, I think, is not about our abilities or about the way the world will receive and recognize us. It has something to do with where we start--what we believe in, who we listen to, where we place our trust. My supervisor at the hospital would say, "It's about knowing who we are and Whose we are." I do believe that if God leads me to a situation, He'll lead me through it. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't still struggle at the plate, skip breakfast because of butterflies, or pray like crazy when I'm on my way to respond to an emergency call. It just means that I hope I remember at some point in the experience that the battle is inside, not out, and that God has already won it.