The Immediator

The thought in my head today is about the immediacy of God. The "I Am" is here right now, in this moment, with each of us. It occurred to me this morning that I'm here, right now, living this day, because God wants me here. Today. In this city, in this house, with these kids (and dogs and cats), with these bills, with this career, with the individual friendships that bless me in all directions. We are vastly connected to eternity and to the eternal, simply standing here, right in this moment, where we are. Now is the portal to all the sacredness we'll ever know. Now is the moment when we finally welcome and recognize God. And if we miss the opportunity, we know it's offered again and again, as each future moment we're given becomes Now.

Pitching the Bucket of Faith

When I was in fourth grade, my best friend Michele moved with her parents from our concrete-and-brick apartment complex to a beautiful farm just outside the Indianapolis city limits. The house was big and drafty, with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling and big, unused rooms upstairs with peeling paint and chipping plaster--perfect and spooky for two 10-year-old girls giggling their way through a sleepover.

One morning in November we awoke early to find the world painted with a heavy frost, from barn to field to house. Michele and I put on our coats and gloves (she wore her Daddy's big canvas work gloves) and we went out to do Michele's chore. Her job was to water the horses; the mama mare, named Chocolate, and her newborn colt.


Michele had learned how to use the old pump and I stood back and marveled at this friend who had been a Barbie-playing city girl only weeks before. She pumped the water and I helped her carry it to the barn. Over and over we did this; one trip, two trips, three trips. Soon our arms were aching and Michele huffed, "Why is this taking so long? I usually only need two buckets and I'm done."

Michele's dad appeared in the doorway, grinning. "I was wondering when you two were going to realize that you picked up the bucket with the hole in the back." He pointed to the bucket. Sure enough, water was running out the back as we walked to the trough. He handed Michele a different bucket and took the one with the hole out of her hands. "I'll pitch this bucket and seal it up and it will be good as new tomorrow," he said.

This morning I'm remembering that experience because I've been thinking about ways that our faith trickles away without us knowing. Over 90 percent of Americans pray. Do we really believe it works? Do our actions say so? Are we any closer to really trusting God, to really relying on him to see us through the course of our lives? I want my belief to be more than belief: I want it to be a knowing. And toward that end, I want my thoughts, my choices, my actions, and my expectations to reflect the faith I say I have--and I know I have--when the chips are down. I'd like to pitch my bucket of faith and seal up those little cracks where the strength of God's presence dribbles out unnoticed. That means trusting him to do what he says he will do. Expecting it. Claiming it. Listening carefully--and applying what I hear. And with a little divine help, this bucket will soon be as good as new--or, more likely, better than ever.

Enjoy your day! :) k

Closing the Manual

This morning driving home from school, I heard an interview with John Mayer, a contemporary singer-songwriter. The interviewer brought up the fact that John gone to music school at Berkeley for two years and then cut out. His response: "I never was the kind of person to learn things from a manual." Me neither! I wanted to sit up and cheer. :) How often we feel we need to do what everyone else has done, learn the way everyone else learns, and value what everyone else values. But life in faith is a journey, step by step, that takes us along our own unique path, if we're paying attention. I'm putting away the store-bought map, closing the how-to manual, turning off the TV, and letting go of everything except God. He's more than able to show me where to put my foot next. Blessings on your day! :) k

Understanding & Knowing

It occurred to me today as I was writing to a friend that so many of the things we learn in our lives, we learn only over time. We grow, gradually, into trusting other people. We get used to a new job--slowly, one project, one person at a time. We change our lives, our families, our goals, and our perspectives by taking microscopic little steps, growing in a tiny way each day, every day, for years. Our intolerance melts subtly into acceptance. Our prejudices begin to take a back seat to our hope of finding that of God in another. Our fears, bit by bit, dissolve the unknown in favor of the known--what God has done before, he'll do again, and more.

So many of the unrealistic expectations I have put on myself and my own growth have had to do with time. I expect to know better, now. I want an answer, now. Like Paul, I know what I think I should be doing, but as Peace Pilgrim says, "It takes a while for the learning to catch up with the living."

But today I caught a glimpse of an understanding that reminded me that time is an ally, deepening our understanding and underscoring our knowing: Practical experience with God gives us an understanding and a knowing of his presence we can't get from a book, a song, or a movie. Lots of days with God give us the scope of experience, the knowing that he's there when we need him, a real help, companion, and guide we can count on, no matter what. :) k

One of Those Days

Have you ever had a day that started out great and then went to pieces before noon? I don't know what happened today, but what began as a beautiful, frosty, peaceful morning dissolved into an "everything's-going-wrong" kind of day. Sometimes I just don't see any rhyme or reason to these things; but I know God understands, even when I don't. My mantra today is, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." I know things will come back together again as quickly as they came apart. And God is with us, either way. :) k

Loving the Note

I got to sit in on my son Christopher's trumpet lesson yesterday. His instructor, Jim Edison, has done it all. He's been the director of college bands; played professionally on tour with big bands and singers; played for the Barnum & Bailey Circus; has formed, managed, and toured with jazz groups; and was inducted into the Jazz Hall of Fame. He's 70 years old now, and a stroke a few years back left his left hand hanging by his side. But the right hand still plays trumpet magically; and his mind, keen ear, and fine teaching spirit know just when to stop to the music and call a boy's attention to something small that can make the difference between playing a note and loving it.

Did you know that there are many different ways to play a note on a trumpet? Not just loud and soft, but also "in-the-box quiet" and "concert-hall big." There are ways to bite off notes, breathe through notes, gently round notes and "set them down", kiss notes, project notes, and taste notes that sound like "milk and honey." And when you're stretching for the high notes--which is stressful because they're tough to reach and harder to hold--the trick is to relax and breathe; don't screw up your face and tighten your arms and neck muscles. Relax and love the note. Relax and honor your partner, your instrument. Relax and enjoy the moment, filled with music you're contributing to the world.

Each moment we live is another chance to play a note. We can hold moments tenderly or enjoy them heartily and let them go. We can waste them looking back at the past and wishing we were there. We can lose them by fantasizing about other notes we'll play--or moments we'll live--in the future. But we've got a chance to play a note, right now, in any way we choose. Today, may you do it your way, with God's help, and may you both enjoy its sound. :) k

Prayers for Parents

Over the weekend, I ran across this article,"CNN.com - Survey: Parents doubt their skills - Oct. 30, 2002," saying that a recent survey found that parents generally feel they are failing as parents. My heart went out to this entire generation of parents! Sometime today, would you please join me in praying for their comfort, wisdom, and growing relationships with the Divine? We can pray not only for the parents in this survey but for all parents, everywhere, today. Prayer is one of the few ways we can truly touch everyone, instantly, in the name of God. Let's remind each other, too, that we're just where we need to be today and that not one of us makes this journey alone. Blessings on your day. :) k

Letting God Work

Do you notice how much is being written right now about letting God work? It seems as though all signs lead to Trust for me lately. I hear songs on the radio and they remind me to trust God. I catch five minutes of a TV program and it reminds me to trust God. A little snippet of an email reminds me that if I'm struggling, I'm not trusting.

It occurs to me that Trust is continuum, a path that leads us from that initial acceptance of God's help, through every moment of our lives, to a full realization and reconciliation with him after this worldly life. Trust isn't a lesson we learn once and master; it's a million small choices, several made each day. Trust grows when we decide to ask God what to do instead of reacting quickly to an upsetting situation. Trust grows when we turn to him when something scares us. Trust grows when we choose to stand on his promises instead of relying on our own strength to solve a problem. Trust grows when we continue stepping forward in the dark, holding on to the belief that he is with us and will direct our steps.

My hope for us this weekend is that we're able to know God's presence in a very real way and rely on--and take comfort in--the fact that our relationship with him continues to grow in trust each day, just the way he wants it to. Blessings on your weekend! :) k

Being Understood

The importance of being understood is on my mind and heart today. Last night I had the difficult experience of being misunderstood--or perhaps misjudged is more the word--by a person I'd just met. I found myself flailing inside, upset and trying quickly to figure out how to make things better, to let her know I was an okay person, to make things more comfortable for us both. Nothing I tried worked. Reflecting on it in my quiet time with God later, I could see that I was probably trying too hard, caring too much, working too diligently to try to make things better. If I had been able to simply let the situation be what it was, to listen quietly for God's leading instead of acting from the pounding of my own upset heart, a different result may have arisen. Or maybe not. But either way, I would have been holding the hand of the One who truly understands me, and I would have felt less alone.

A Silent Moment

To send a prayer for Senator Paul Wellstone and his family, friends, and constituents. His vision, voice, and energy will be missed. We were fortunate to have in him someone who showed us it is possible to balance passion and perspective with a genuine, world-changing love for people.

Knowing Where We Come From

The other day my sons and I were in the car (we spend lots of time on the road, but it's good talk time) and the discussion turned to eyebrows. My teenage son suddenly has these cool, manly eyebrows. :) He was saying he obviously gets his eyebrows from his dad. "I have your mouth," he said. "That's what makes me a good trumpet player." My younger son got in on the discussion. "I think I got my easy-going attitude from you," he said, "but I'm good at football because of Dad."

As the conversation continued, I was touched by how much of themselves my sons attribute to their dad or to me. His hair, my eyes. His romanticism, my gentleness. I listened to them talk as they divided their attributes and qualities into little piles: Mom and Dad. I wondered where their own gifts came into their figuring. And I was moved by how important--and comforting--it is to know where we come from.

I didn't know my father until I was 34 years old, and then it was an odd meeting--I walked into a room filled with people, knowing that any man over 60 in there could suddenly look up and say, "Kathy? Hi--I'm your dad." I didn't realize it until I met and began to have a relationship with this man that I needed to know where some of my interests and abilities came from. And as my relationship with him continues to grow, I see more and more of myself in him.

How important it is to know where we come from! And for those of us who didn't grow up having all the puzzle pieces intact, who were adopted or simply unconnected, what a gift it is to uncover those missing pieces as they appear in our lives. What strikes me most of all, however, is how on a deeper level we all know that we are part of each other as well as part of something larger. I believe we sense that underneath all our surface differences, we all fit together perfectly in the very heart of God. Knowing where we come from--and Whose we are--helps us feel safe, knowing that we belong, knowing we share in something bigger than ourselves, knowing that we are never alone.

Blessings on your day, friend. :) k

More Info, Please

Thanks to Doug Tindal of www.faithandvalues.com for sending me this info. The man I described yesterday (who told the story of the American fellow on safari) was Terry Hershey, author of the book Soul Gardening. You can read about his book by clicking the book name and going directly to the amazon.com page describing it. Enjoy! And, by the way, how's your soul today? Mine's trailing a little behind, like Peter Pan's shadow...:)) -k

Letting Our Souls Catch Up

The last three mornings I've added something new to my morning routine: Up at 6:00, wake the boys to get ready for school, let the dogs out, and do my yoga (or fold last night's laundry). But earlier this week, when I was looking for a yoga program a friend had told me about, I discovered New Morning, a show produced by Faith and Values Media that runs on the Hallmark Channel at 6:15 (in my area) each weekday morning. This simple little show is peaceful and filled with heart--ideas for staying centered, listening to God, beginning the day in a peaceful frame. It really is an amazing, sweet, gentle way to open a new day.

This morning one of the stories showed a man sitting in a garden. He told a story that went something like this: "A typical American man decided to go on Safari in Africa. He was typical in the sense that he was always in a hurry, always out of time, and he travelled with lots of stuff. In Africa, he hired a group to help him carry his belongings on safari. For each of three days, they made great time--they rose early, they walked fast, they set camp late. On the fourth morning, the man rose with the sun, as usual. He was ready to go. The morning dragged on and the workers didn't appear. Finally, agitated and upset, he approached the guide. "Where is everyone?" he asked. "We were supposed to leave hours ago." The guide looked around with a knowing smile and turned quietly back to the man. "They are waiting for their souls to catch up," he said.

This simple little story felt like a great gift to me. How often I rush through my day, measuring my effectiveness by the number of deadlines I meet, the tasks I accomplished, the kids I delivered on time to various school and social functions. I love the idea of simply letting my soul catch up with my body! Today I'm going to be more willing to walk at a gentler pace, one that allows me to stop and take a breath when my soul needs to smell the roses.

And if you want to give yourself a gift tomorrow morning, find out when New Morning is playing in your area. Here's the link: www.newmorningtv.tv.

It's in the Eyes

Yesterday afternoon I had about 45 minutes to do half a dozen things. I ran to the grocery, to the post office (yes, now I know that it was Columbus Day and there was no mail service), and to the pet store. Last stop before picking Cameron up from school: Kinkos.I had 8 minutes to drop off a manuscript to be copied. When I shuffled in, wearing my sweatpants, Christ the King school sweatshirt, and Nike sandals, the place was filled with businesspeople in businesswear. I tried to wait patiently, watching the second hand tick away the seconds on the clock on the wall.

Seven minutes later, I was the next person in line. As I stood biting the inside of my lip and picturing Cameron waiting like a forelorn waif on the empty school sidewalk, a young man with dredlocks in baggy, low-rider pants walked in and went up to the counter. He stood straight as an arrow, right in front of me. The harried clerks continued waiting on their respective customers. Then one employee turned and looked at the fellow. I noticed her eyes--big, blue, wide-open, *tender* eyes. She stepped up to him and said softly, "How can I help you?"

The young man cleared his throat and asked whether they were hiring. I was touched by the practiced way he held his head up; his gaze, his stiff shoulders. I could feel how tense he was.

The woman was a model of gentleness. She spoke with him as though he were the most important person in the room. She told him what their hiring policies were. She explained the jobs she had open. She gave him the name of the HR manager, along with his phone number and the hours he worked. She wrote the information down on the back of one of her own business cards. She went above and beyond just normal people doing normal jobs. She was loving this kid, showing him that his questions were important, that she honored his decision--and his courage--in coming in to ask about a job. Those eyes said it all. She valued him and he was welcome. What a nice gift for a kid who probably gets more scowls than smiles in our world.

The clock on the wall? I forgot about it and thanked God for that woman's example to me. It's not about the seconds you spend with someone. It's about looking at them tenderly--with love, with intention, with kindness. It's about being tenderly present with people in a way that lets them know you see them and shows them you're glad they're there.

And somehow, miraculously, I had a heart realignment and I still made it to school in time to see Cameron walk out the front door with his friends. Thanks, God.

I Love That Guy

This morning I had an interesting experience. I was driving my son Cameron to school and we were listening to the radio. A listener called in and was talking to the radio host about something...and I rolled my eyes and changed the station. "Why'd you do that?" Cameron asked.

"The guy was obviously making that up," I said. "He just wanted to get on the radio."

After dropping Cameron off at school, I thought of my reaction and wondered why it irritated me. I started to talk (in my head) to God about it.

"Oh, I know," I suddenly imagined God saying, "I just love that guy. He's a hoot, isn't he?"

That thought stopped my irritated, why-do-people-do that? kind of thinking. The image of a smiling, loving God, shaking his head and laughing lightly about the crazy things we do for attention, for love, for affirmation, to feel better. He understands us. He knows what drives us and what we need. He loves and smiles and pats us when we need it.

I'm not going to judge that guy on the radio anymore. God loves him. And me, too, thank God. :) k

New Issue of OPENINGS

Hello! Today I published a new edition of OPENINGS, the free enewsletter I write that shares simple faith essays (much like this blog but with a bit more room to write). If you'd like to check it out, click here or visit www.revisionsplus.com/Openings.htm when you get the chance. If you'd like to get on the list for OPENINGS, just drop me a note at kmurray@iquest.net.

I hope you're enjoying the fall wherever you are and you take a moment sometime today to feel the good changes coming in as the geese fly over... :) k

A Kind Day

This was a day of unexpected kindnesses. The person on the interstate letting me in, the smiling teachers at Cameron's school, happy clients and kind emails, funny stories and shared moments with family. Some days the kindness just glows from people, like sunshine or good thoughts or offers of help rising naturally from a loving spirit. I'm grateful for these days when that glow is so easy to see. :) k

Sending a Smile

In keeping with that last post, I thought I'd send along my favorite God cartoon, courtesy of The Far Side: :) k

Lightening Up

I'm saying a quick prayer for all of us who get stuck in stress mode, who tend to take things a wee bit too seriously, who *work* at our faith and *work* at our relationships and *work* on ourselves. Sometimes I totally forget about one of the most wonderful acts of worship: Laughing. Laughing and loving means relaxing and opening up (and sharing) what God gives me in this moment. It shows God--without me *working* at it--that I trust him. It reminds me that nothing is that critical and helps me remember what I know--that God is unfolding things gracefully, that I am right where I need to be right now, and that I am fully enjoying being alive in this moment. And that, I think, is perhaps the best way to say Thank You. Let yourself laugh today! It feels good. And I think it's music to God's ears. :) k

Inside Everything

Hi there. This weekend, I spent a short-but-wonderful rest in New Harmony, Indiana. It's a peaceful tiny town in southern Indiana that lives out the whisper of a dream Richard Owen had in the 1800s of harmonious, communal living. The experiment he began before the turn of the century ultimately failed, but the New Harmonites hold on to the peaceful ideal and the welcoming gentle hospitality on which their culture was founded. I was entering a serene, circular garden with a gentle fountain in the center and a brick walkway leading through shady lush hostas and billowing ferns, when I happened to look down at a stone at my feet. On the stone these words were engraved :

Lift the stone and find Me.
Split the tree and I am there.

This was worth the 3.5-hour drive to me. A simple reminder that we cannot be where God is not. I needed that just now. Wishing us all a peaceful week, remembering. :) k