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