It is December 26th. All is calm and all is bright. I suppose everyone is mostly resting. Some are traveling. Some have not had enough shopping and have returned to the stores to find more of whatever it is they are looking for. But I was drawn to my desk in the quiet and picked up a quote written on a note from a friend:
"He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree." (Roy L. Smith)
This morning I am wondering if you found Christmas. Did it meet your expectations? Do you feel full of joy and hope as you participated in your traditions? I was reminded early in the season when we idly watched the classic A Charlie Brown Christmas. There was a conversation between Charlie and Lucy that went something like this:
Charlie Brown:”I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed. “
Lucy : “Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem.”
And so this morning, the day after Christmas, when the tree all of a sudden looks a little tired, the beautiful wrapping paper is crumpled in the trash, the dog has already destroyed his new toy, and the refrigerator is bulging with too many leftovers, we could suddenly feel depressed. Part of us thinks, “It’s over. Just clean it up and put it all away.”
But is it over? Do we have to “put it away”? If Christmas resides in our hearts, couldn’t it simply continue through the year? Could Christmas be the hope of things to come? Could Christmas Day be a day of new beginnings and fresh starts? I can look at the calendar and find my answer. Our Christian calendar moves now into this time of Epiphany. It means "to show" or "to make known" or even "to reveal." The word itself most often means that “ah-ha” moment when we “get it”. Sometimes it is like a lightning bolt – like the shepherds being scared out of their wits with the message of the angels. Other times it slowly comes – like the Magi who traveled for a few years, seeking the star that led them. And because our epitaph has not yet been written, we can all experience epiphany.
I have never given much thought to Epiphany until today, but as I learn and reflect on it, I love the way it continues our Christmas season – the twelve days of Christmas starts today and goes until January 6. Remember the song The Twelve Days of Christmas? It has been debated whether the song is secular or religious. Some say it was developed in the 16th century to help children learn the catechism with the “true love” being God himself and the “me” representing every believer who is part of the Christian faith, and the “days” representing some aspect of the faith to learn. I like that. Others would argue it is purely secular and created just for frivolity.
I love what Dennis Bratcher of the Christian Resource Institute/Voice wrote about Epiphany and his explanation of the 12 days of Christmas.
“Perhaps, when all is said and done, historical accuracy is not really the point. Perhaps more important is that Christians can celebrate their rich heritage, and God's grace, through one more avenue this Christmas. Now, when they hear what they once thought was only a secular "nonsense song," they will be reminded in one more way of the grace of God working in transforming ways in their lives and in our world. After all, is that not the meaning of Christmas anyway?”
The Twelve Days of Christmas
A Partridge in a Pear Tree
The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, whose birthday we celebrate on December 25, the first day of Christmas. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge that feigns injury to decoy predators from her helpless nestlings, recalling the expression of Christ's sadness over the fate of Jerusalem: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem! How often would I have sheltered you under my wings, as a hen does her chicks, but you would not have it so . . . ." (Luke 13:34)
Two Turtle Doves
The Old and New Testaments, which together bear witness to God's self-revelation in history and the creation of a people to tell the Story of God to the world.
Three French Hens
The Three Theological Virtues: 1) Faith, 2) Hope, and 3) Love (1 Corinthians 13:13)
Four Calling Birds
The Four Gospels: 1) Matthew, 2) Mark, 3) Luke, and 4) John, which proclaim the Good News of God's reconciliation of the world to Himself in Jesus Christ.
Five Gold Rings
The first Five Books of the Old Testament, known as the Torah or the Pentateuch: 1) Genesis, 2) Exodus, 3) Leviticus, 4) Numbers, and 5) Deuteronomy, which gives the history of humanity's sinful failure and God's response of grace in the creation of a people to be a light to the world.
Six Geese A-laying
The six days of creation that confesses God as Creator and Sustainer of the world (Genesis 1).
Seven Swans A-swimming
The seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: 1) prophecy, 2) ministry, 3) teaching, 4) exhortation, 5) giving, 6) leading, and 7) compassion (Romans 12:6-8; cf. 1 Corinthians 12:8-11)
Eight Maids A-milking
The eight Beatitudes: 1) Blessed are the poor in spirit, 2) those who mourn, 3) the meek, 4) those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, 5) the merciful, 6) the pure in heart, 7) the peacemakers, 8) those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake. (Matthew 5:3-10)
Nine Ladies Dancing
The nine Fruit of the Holy Spirit: 1) love, 2) joy, 3) peace, 4) patience, 5) kindness,
6) generosity, 7) faithfulness, 8) gentleness, and 9) self-control. (Galatians 5:22)
Ten Lords A-leaping
The ten commandments: 1) You shall have no other gods before me; 2) Do not make an idol; 3) Do not take God's name in vain; 4) Remember the Sabbath Day; 5) Honor your father and mother; 6) Do not murder; 7) Do not commit adultery; 8) Do not steal; 9) Do not bear false witness; 10) Do not covet. (Exodus 20:1-17)
Eleven Pipers Piping
The eleven Faithful Apostles: 1) Simon Peter, 2) Andrew, 3) James, 4) John, 5) Philip, 6) Bartholomew, 7) Matthew, 8) Thomas, 9) James bar Alphaeus, 10) Simon the Zealot, 11) Judas bar James. (Luke 6:14-16). The list does not include the twelfth disciple, Judas Iscariot who betrayed Jesus to the religious leaders and the Romans.
Twelve Drummers Drumming
The twelve points of doctrine in the Apostles' Creed: 1) I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. 2) I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. 3) He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. 4) He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell [the grave]. 5) On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. 6) He will come again to judge the living and the dead. 7) I believe in the Holy Spirit, 8) the holy catholic Church, 9) the communion of saints, 10) the forgiveness of sins, 11) the resurrection of the body, 12) and life everlasting.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Pondering The Path of Peace
They say we might have some snow on Christmas Day! And I say “Let it snow!” The magic of quiet snow falling on Christmas morning - oh, just the thought of it takes me back remembering Christmases in Kentucky on my snow-covered hill-top home – the wonder, the beauty, the silence. It can happen anywhere that the heart makes room.
In January of 2008 Atlanta was covered in a beautiful blanket of snow. I couldn’t resist but to take a few pictures in the garden that now looked so fresh and new even in the bleak of our winter of great sadness. St. Francis looked especially peaceful and content with a white cap warming his head. His presence standing strong there in the garden offered me a new appreciation for the man who gave up all of his worldly goods to be an instrument of peace during his life.
After visiting his birthplace and the city for which he is named, I came home and disciplined myself to memorize one of his prayers – maybe the one for which he is most remembered. Let’s see if I can say it for you:
Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen
What strikes me today is that in the first line, the prayer asks the Lord to make me an instrument of HIS peace. I may not ever find my own peace and that is what we ponder so much, trying to make sense of life and its ups and downs. But I can, in the midst of pondering offer to be used – to be an instrument of God’s peace – the peace that we seldom understand, but that we have been freely given through the one who comes again at Christmas.
Jesus said in John 14:27 “Peace I leave with you: my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
Maybe I should return to Target and purchase what caught my eye - the gray T-shirt with the huge peace symbol on the front to remind me to live as an instrument of peace. I confess that I am not always the peacemaker. I do not always sow love, or pardon, or faith, or hope. Sometimes I am dark and sometimes I am sad and lonely even though my home is filled with abundance. That’s why I have memorized the prayer and it is amazing the times during the day when the words come to remind me “sow hope, sow love, understand, pardon, give”. Peace.
I know that Christ wants to infuse peace into all of us. He said so. His peace. Not the peace of a quiet snowfall. Not the peace of singing Silent Night holding a candle. But the opening of our souls to receive Him in our hearts – to take on his characteristics of love and forgiveness, of gentleness and hope and of purpose. But in this age of “it’s all about me” we find it hard to acknowledge our utter neediness and we simply just don’t need Jesus – or very much of him.
This Christmas, open yourself to receive the peace that Jesus brings –now, from eternity past, and forevermore. And in return, offer yourself as an instrument of that kind of peace. Knowing peace is the gift above all gifts.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Gift
Like my winter birds who come to the feeder in a variety of ways, Christmas presents come in a variety of packages.
Yesterday I arrived home to find a beautifully wrapped gift on my kitchen counter. I enjoyed just looking at it - so smartly wrapped waiting to open it with the giver. But reading in bed late last night, it was delivered to me. I was encouraged to go ahead and unwrap it so I could use it during Christmas. And I love the gift and will use it – maybe today!
But earlier in the day I received another gift – a very different kind of gift. I listened to brilliant people discuss degenerative neurological diseases and the progress being made toward finding cures for many of them. I observed research labs and technicians and analysts busy reading graphs and plotting charts. I sat in a small circle of participants and watched a teaching doctor put on gloves and take a human brain out of a plastic bucket and show us how an autopsy is performed for research. Most of the terminology I did not understand, but I was fascinated by the “hands on” explanation of the process, but chose not to put on gloves and touch the brain myself. Having a daughter who died from a brain disease, I found myself at first intrigued by the science of it all, but began to feel emotionally overwhelmed by the destruction of my child’s brain, surprised that gray matter in a white plastic bucket could bring on such emotion. I felt the doctor looking at me intently, like she was explaining everything just for me, gently and with compassion. I tried to focus on her words and visuals. I fought my emotions and studied her charts for distraction. After the meeting, I was stunned when the doctor came up to me, introduced herself, and told me that she had performed Megan’s autopsy. It took a few minutes for the words to register. I hope I thanked her.
That was over a year ago and I have always detested those hours when Megan’s body left our home. I suppose I felt she would just be one on the list at the hospital. That once she was gone, the necessary procedures would be routine and indifferent. And even though I knew Megan’s soul was not there, there was part of me that wanted to be beside of her to witness those final necessary steps, however painful it would be. Of course, I know there are some things we cannot do. There are some things that others do better. What I discovered today was that someone with love and compassion – maybe a mother herself- attended to my child, taking what she could for the benefit of research and discovery with full knowledge that this life was taken much too soon. She knew of Megan’s disease and was expecting her upon death. She cared, made herself available, and then she told me.
What a gift.
This Christmas, God is like this doctor. He knows all of our diseases, struggles, and hurts. This Christmas God cares. This Christmas God makes himself available through Jesus coming to earth. This Christmas God says to us all “I love you and will be expecting you upon your death”. Will you open the gift that Christmas offers?
.
Like my winter birds who come to the feeder in a variety of ways, Christmas presents come in a variety of packages.
Yesterday I arrived home to find a beautifully wrapped gift on my kitchen counter. I enjoyed just looking at it - so smartly wrapped waiting to open it with the giver. But reading in bed late last night, it was delivered to me. I was encouraged to go ahead and unwrap it so I could use it during Christmas. And I love the gift and will use it – maybe today!
But earlier in the day I received another gift – a very different kind of gift. I listened to brilliant people discuss degenerative neurological diseases and the progress being made toward finding cures for many of them. I observed research labs and technicians and analysts busy reading graphs and plotting charts. I sat in a small circle of participants and watched a teaching doctor put on gloves and take a human brain out of a plastic bucket and show us how an autopsy is performed for research. Most of the terminology I did not understand, but I was fascinated by the “hands on” explanation of the process, but chose not to put on gloves and touch the brain myself. Having a daughter who died from a brain disease, I found myself at first intrigued by the science of it all, but began to feel emotionally overwhelmed by the destruction of my child’s brain, surprised that gray matter in a white plastic bucket could bring on such emotion. I felt the doctor looking at me intently, like she was explaining everything just for me, gently and with compassion. I tried to focus on her words and visuals. I fought my emotions and studied her charts for distraction. After the meeting, I was stunned when the doctor came up to me, introduced herself, and told me that she had performed Megan’s autopsy. It took a few minutes for the words to register. I hope I thanked her.
That was over a year ago and I have always detested those hours when Megan’s body left our home. I suppose I felt she would just be one on the list at the hospital. That once she was gone, the necessary procedures would be routine and indifferent. And even though I knew Megan’s soul was not there, there was part of me that wanted to be beside of her to witness those final necessary steps, however painful it would be. Of course, I know there are some things we cannot do. There are some things that others do better. What I discovered today was that someone with love and compassion – maybe a mother herself- attended to my child, taking what she could for the benefit of research and discovery with full knowledge that this life was taken much too soon. She knew of Megan’s disease and was expecting her upon death. She cared, made herself available, and then she told me.
What a gift.
This Christmas, God is like this doctor. He knows all of our diseases, struggles, and hurts. This Christmas God cares. This Christmas God makes himself available through Jesus coming to earth. This Christmas God says to us all “I love you and will be expecting you upon your death”. Will you open the gift that Christmas offers?
.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Four Blessings
It’s the week of Thanksgiving and I am compiling my thankful list. I am thankful my family is coming to Atlanta! I am thankful I can get out my mother’s china and set a beautiful table for lots of people I love. I am thankful there are little children who will be running around, pulling the dog’s tail, playing with my children’s outgrown toys. I am thankful we have a comfortable home in which to welcome everyone and plenty of food to share. I am thankful for my friends, my health, and my family’s health, the beauty of the world, my country and my heritage. Most of have much for which to be thankful. If we included our troubles the list would be endless.
But I haven’t heard too many people give thanks for their troubles. I know we will give thanks around our table without mentioning our bouts with sickness, death, surgeries, moves, job uncertainty, and hopefully politics! We want to gather together and give thanks for the good. We quietly try to fix the bad ourselves if we can. We close our hearts and remove ourselves. Sometimes we try to find meaning in our suffering by doing things for other people. But sometimes we hurt so badly we can’t. And we might wonder if God even knows our troubles – we wonder if He is paying attention or if He could have possibly forgotten us.
As soon as I post this, I will polish silver and chop celery, but my mind will be focused on another family who waits for the hour they must say good-bye to their child - this week of Thanksgiving. I know that pain. I know that devastation and emptiness that draws you down to brokenness and despair. So it seems rather pedantic to me this year to simply run through the “thankful” list without spending a little time on the one to whom we give thanks - God himself. I am reminded of the verse in Job where he questions “Do we thank God in only the good times? Should we not thank Him in the bad times?” I think he said something like “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
How do we do that when our hearts are breaking?
I am not so far along in my grief that I don’t still feel the sting of loss like others who are now walking this road. It all comes back too real. But in my own effort to “find meaning in the suffering” I ran across a book that provided some encouragement. Mack Stokes, author of Talking With God says “When amid suffering and grief, we open our souls to him in prayer, we receive at least four blessings of importance.”
As I study that quote, I see there is a condition for those blessings – opening our souls to him in prayer. Let’s assume that we all know how to open our souls to God. Here are the blessings. I am glad to know that he said “at least four”. Maybe there are hundreds.
1. Despite our problems, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we become profoundly aware of God’s presence. He says that the weaker and more inadequate we are, the stronger God’s presence becomes and then we know that God will never leave us for forsake us.
2. Despite our suffering, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we become profoundly aware of the vastness of God’s far-reaching capabilities; it is one thing to know he goes with us through life and death, but another to experience the mysterious far-reaching ranges of his love.
3. Despite our pain and uncertainties, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we discover and new appreciation for others and the role they play in being used by the Holy Spirit to comfort and hold us. In turn, we learn how to love others.
4. Despite our loss, when we open our souls to him in prayer, God opens up a new vision for us where we can move. It might not be right away – it might take some time, but God makes us aware of others and gives us opportunities to heal and grow. He gives us new possibilities.
“When we open our souls to him in prayer” amazing things happen. I am thankful for these four blessings:
God will never leave me
God’s love for me is vast, mysterious, and far-reaching
God holds my hands through the use of others who are obedient to Him
God has a plan for me and provides new possibilities for His glory
If you think about just these four blessings a while – open your soul to him in prayer - they will leave you breathless and wondering like the words by Mercy Me:
“Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine”
But I haven’t heard too many people give thanks for their troubles. I know we will give thanks around our table without mentioning our bouts with sickness, death, surgeries, moves, job uncertainty, and hopefully politics! We want to gather together and give thanks for the good. We quietly try to fix the bad ourselves if we can. We close our hearts and remove ourselves. Sometimes we try to find meaning in our suffering by doing things for other people. But sometimes we hurt so badly we can’t. And we might wonder if God even knows our troubles – we wonder if He is paying attention or if He could have possibly forgotten us.
As soon as I post this, I will polish silver and chop celery, but my mind will be focused on another family who waits for the hour they must say good-bye to their child - this week of Thanksgiving. I know that pain. I know that devastation and emptiness that draws you down to brokenness and despair. So it seems rather pedantic to me this year to simply run through the “thankful” list without spending a little time on the one to whom we give thanks - God himself. I am reminded of the verse in Job where he questions “Do we thank God in only the good times? Should we not thank Him in the bad times?” I think he said something like “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
How do we do that when our hearts are breaking?
I am not so far along in my grief that I don’t still feel the sting of loss like others who are now walking this road. It all comes back too real. But in my own effort to “find meaning in the suffering” I ran across a book that provided some encouragement. Mack Stokes, author of Talking With God says “When amid suffering and grief, we open our souls to him in prayer, we receive at least four blessings of importance.”
As I study that quote, I see there is a condition for those blessings – opening our souls to him in prayer. Let’s assume that we all know how to open our souls to God. Here are the blessings. I am glad to know that he said “at least four”. Maybe there are hundreds.
1. Despite our problems, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we become profoundly aware of God’s presence. He says that the weaker and more inadequate we are, the stronger God’s presence becomes and then we know that God will never leave us for forsake us.
2. Despite our suffering, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we become profoundly aware of the vastness of God’s far-reaching capabilities; it is one thing to know he goes with us through life and death, but another to experience the mysterious far-reaching ranges of his love.
3. Despite our pain and uncertainties, when we open our souls to him in prayer, we discover and new appreciation for others and the role they play in being used by the Holy Spirit to comfort and hold us. In turn, we learn how to love others.
4. Despite our loss, when we open our souls to him in prayer, God opens up a new vision for us where we can move. It might not be right away – it might take some time, but God makes us aware of others and gives us opportunities to heal and grow. He gives us new possibilities.
“When we open our souls to him in prayer” amazing things happen. I am thankful for these four blessings:
God will never leave me
God’s love for me is vast, mysterious, and far-reaching
God holds my hands through the use of others who are obedient to Him
God has a plan for me and provides new possibilities for His glory
If you think about just these four blessings a while – open your soul to him in prayer - they will leave you breathless and wondering like the words by Mercy Me:
“Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine”
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Joining Hands for a Common Purpose
Today is Veteran’s Day and I am thinking about my dad who served in the military for 29 years and loved President Eisenhower. On October 8th,1954 President Eisenhower issued the first Veteran’s Day Proclamation which stated: "In order to insure proper and widespread observance of this anniversary, all veterans, all veterans' organizations, and the entire citizenry will wish to join hands in the common purpose”. And so today, almost fifty years later there will be parades, memorials, and speeches around our country, joining hands in the common purpose and remembering and giving consideration to this worthy cause.
Tomorrow is another special day you might not know about. November 12th is International CJD Awareness Day. I am sure that it won’t make the nightly news. Most people don’t even know that a disease exists with such a name as Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. I certainly didn’t until someone I loved was diagnosed with it. Then it became real to me. And when we learned there was no treatment or cure, it led me to discover just how many rare and unknown diseases exist. In fact, over 1000 are listed on the website of the National Organization for Rare Disorders (and in case you are interested in that cause you can mark your calendar to observe Rare Disease Day on February 28, 2010).
There is no shortage of causes in our world – just look on Facebook. With millions of people using this internet tool to network, there is a way to post your cause on the site or join an already existing one. You can write about it, recruit members, solicit and make donations all with just a click. Amazing. Anyone can do it. Even me and I have invited my Facebook friends to join my cause – finding a cure for CJD. It just takes the initiative to figure out the process and something to be passionate about - passionate enough to be moved into action.
Often people “walk” for a cause or they run a marathon. Some people organize a golf tournament or ball. Many of us are simply recruited to be financial participants in these causes, but somewhere at the core of every cause there is a person who probably experienced great pain or suffering and they took the initiative to turn their pain into something that would help others – joining those hands for a common purpose.
My garden club is a perfect example of that. When CJD claimed the life of Megan, they took their sorrow and sold daffodil bulbs (the springtime symbol of hope) throughout the neighborhood. They have decided to sell the bulbs again this year and the bulbs have gone quickly. More hope. If this effort continues, birthed in love and carried out in faithfulness to a cause, hope will bloom on every street in Atlanta in the years to come. As one member said, “One day when we are all in “the home” the buses will pick us up to drive to Brookhaven and view the dancing daffodils we planted so long ago”. I want to be on that bus. I want to look back and remember what I did to offer hope to my community.
Ah…there’s the point I want to make. What is each of us doing to make a difference in our world? What cause have we aligned with? There’s a song that says “What the world needs now is love, sweet love – it’s the only thing that there’s just too little of…” So start small with your love if you are uncertain. Write a note to someone. Sign up to volunteer. Visit an elderly neighbor. Experiment with those random acts of kindness. Love then grows and can take on causes. It can be planting daffodils, offering financial support for finding a cure for CJD, or simply flying the American flag on Veterans Day. However it looks, it looks less and less at self and out to others and beyond. Jesus called it “feeding sheep”.
Tomorrow is another special day you might not know about. November 12th is International CJD Awareness Day. I am sure that it won’t make the nightly news. Most people don’t even know that a disease exists with such a name as Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. I certainly didn’t until someone I loved was diagnosed with it. Then it became real to me. And when we learned there was no treatment or cure, it led me to discover just how many rare and unknown diseases exist. In fact, over 1000 are listed on the website of the National Organization for Rare Disorders (and in case you are interested in that cause you can mark your calendar to observe Rare Disease Day on February 28, 2010).
There is no shortage of causes in our world – just look on Facebook. With millions of people using this internet tool to network, there is a way to post your cause on the site or join an already existing one. You can write about it, recruit members, solicit and make donations all with just a click. Amazing. Anyone can do it. Even me and I have invited my Facebook friends to join my cause – finding a cure for CJD. It just takes the initiative to figure out the process and something to be passionate about - passionate enough to be moved into action.
Often people “walk” for a cause or they run a marathon. Some people organize a golf tournament or ball. Many of us are simply recruited to be financial participants in these causes, but somewhere at the core of every cause there is a person who probably experienced great pain or suffering and they took the initiative to turn their pain into something that would help others – joining those hands for a common purpose.
My garden club is a perfect example of that. When CJD claimed the life of Megan, they took their sorrow and sold daffodil bulbs (the springtime symbol of hope) throughout the neighborhood. They have decided to sell the bulbs again this year and the bulbs have gone quickly. More hope. If this effort continues, birthed in love and carried out in faithfulness to a cause, hope will bloom on every street in Atlanta in the years to come. As one member said, “One day when we are all in “the home” the buses will pick us up to drive to Brookhaven and view the dancing daffodils we planted so long ago”. I want to be on that bus. I want to look back and remember what I did to offer hope to my community.
Ah…there’s the point I want to make. What is each of us doing to make a difference in our world? What cause have we aligned with? There’s a song that says “What the world needs now is love, sweet love – it’s the only thing that there’s just too little of…” So start small with your love if you are uncertain. Write a note to someone. Sign up to volunteer. Visit an elderly neighbor. Experiment with those random acts of kindness. Love then grows and can take on causes. It can be planting daffodils, offering financial support for finding a cure for CJD, or simply flying the American flag on Veterans Day. However it looks, it looks less and less at self and out to others and beyond. Jesus called it “feeding sheep”.
Monday, November 2, 2009
If I Could Turn Back Time
Fall Back…..it’s the way I can remember which way to set my clocks. I am not crazy about Daylight Savings Time. I don’t like the darkness that creeps into my late afternoon. But I do like the sun peeking through the trees earlier in the morning. And I especially like the surge of power I feel in turning back time – even if for just one hour - 60 minutes of precious, reclaimed time. Time for using or snoozing - which I generally have done in the past. But this year I reset the clock the following morning and reclaimed my hour while awake for catching up on some much needed reading – and quiet thinking. I confess – I even skipped church, having my own version at my window altar where my tears could flow freely as I praised and searched and found rest for my soul alone with God.
Fall back …it’s also the way my emotions seem to move. Fall back into a flood of nostalgia and heartbreak over loss. Fall back into memories that bring great longings of the heart. Like the words of Cher’s song “My world was shattered, I was torn apart; Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart”. I want to – no, I do not want to do this, but something pulls me to fall back into what might have been, fall back into the whys of life’s twists and turns, fall back to a future that looks different, and fall back to rethink, redo, and try to get to the day that I can once again possibly spring forward. Many are right there with me in their own personal kind of fall backs of life. It affects us differently, but I see in all of us a clamoring to fight the fall and get going again. It is what brings me back - that sense of purpose and hope.
Last week I wrote about suffering being transformed into honey that feeds others. But before that transformation can occur, there is a time of facing the empty, hollow spaces left by our loss. Maybe it is the same thing as my fall back. Maybe it is healing. Sister Glen of the Abbey of St. Walburga in Colorado says it this way,
“First we have to go to these hollow places in ourselves. Often we have to take the trip in stages – five minutes, fifteen, thirty…until we lose the fear that the emptiness will destroy us. Inhabiting our hollows makes room for us to grow, to make friends with ourselves in a new way, making way to discover God in unexpected places.”
Maybe this is what grief and loss and struggle is all about – visiting the hollow places in our hearts little by little, trusting that God’s spirit can blow through the emptiness, carry away the darkness, sending those little bees that begin to make honey for others who might be hurting. Like turning the clock back and then forward, there seems to be a cycle to this process. I suppose it is okay to fall back and visit the hollow places – I forgive myself. I just can’t stay there. Today as I walked I found myself gathering colorful leaves and decorating a birthday cake for someone I love. There is no turning back of time, but there is always something to move us forward - even if we fall back now and then. I think a little chocolate cake will help.
Fall back …it’s also the way my emotions seem to move. Fall back into a flood of nostalgia and heartbreak over loss. Fall back into memories that bring great longings of the heart. Like the words of Cher’s song “My world was shattered, I was torn apart; Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart”. I want to – no, I do not want to do this, but something pulls me to fall back into what might have been, fall back into the whys of life’s twists and turns, fall back to a future that looks different, and fall back to rethink, redo, and try to get to the day that I can once again possibly spring forward. Many are right there with me in their own personal kind of fall backs of life. It affects us differently, but I see in all of us a clamoring to fight the fall and get going again. It is what brings me back - that sense of purpose and hope.
Last week I wrote about suffering being transformed into honey that feeds others. But before that transformation can occur, there is a time of facing the empty, hollow spaces left by our loss. Maybe it is the same thing as my fall back. Maybe it is healing. Sister Glen of the Abbey of St. Walburga in Colorado says it this way,
“First we have to go to these hollow places in ourselves. Often we have to take the trip in stages – five minutes, fifteen, thirty…until we lose the fear that the emptiness will destroy us. Inhabiting our hollows makes room for us to grow, to make friends with ourselves in a new way, making way to discover God in unexpected places.”
Maybe this is what grief and loss and struggle is all about – visiting the hollow places in our hearts little by little, trusting that God’s spirit can blow through the emptiness, carry away the darkness, sending those little bees that begin to make honey for others who might be hurting. Like turning the clock back and then forward, there seems to be a cycle to this process. I suppose it is okay to fall back and visit the hollow places – I forgive myself. I just can’t stay there. Today as I walked I found myself gathering colorful leaves and decorating a birthday cake for someone I love. There is no turning back of time, but there is always something to move us forward - even if we fall back now and then. I think a little chocolate cake will help.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Honey Coats
Yesterday I worked in my garden most of the day planning ahead for the predicted rain that arrived this morning. I replanted the window boxes, put bone meal on the daffodil beds, pulled out the begonias and cut back perennials. I tell myself that if I would devote one hour each day, the garden would greatly benefit. My mind would benefit as well. It seems as I pull and prune and plant, my attitude and thoughts get sorted and pruned as well for another new season of growth.
Like the rain that was predicted, colder temperatures can’t be far behind. Most of us don’t think too much about the coat we will need – we’ll simply go to the closet and grab one of our choices – fleece today, wool tomorrow. But some people do not have a choice– they might not have the money to buy even one coat. I am thankful I had the privilege of delivering a car full of small coats to an elementary school recently. The principal was thrilled, saying there was much need and each coat would soon find proud, new owners. As I drove away from the school, I gratefully remembered my friends who organized the annual coat drive “Megan’s Closet” in memory of my daughter Megan. The coat drive is held the first of October and in the last two years has collected over 400 little coats along with hats, scarves and mittens for school children in Atlanta and other parts of the world.
My friend knew Megan. She had invited her to visit her classroom to observe her teaching and gather experienced ideas for taking back to her new classroom. She remembered Megan’s joy and enthusiasm for the children. She remembered her love of teaching. She remembered and she did something with those memories that would help someone else. She planned for winter with a child in mind. Oh, it took some work on her part. She wrote the parents. She gathered and sorted the coats. She arranged for delivery. And now, she knows that a group of children will be warmer this winter because of an idea born from sorrow – the honey that transforms into joy in the shape of little coats and gloves for cold days.
I see that transformation again and again and marvel at the continuous mystery of it. Touched by the generosity and thoughtfulness of the coat drive, I joined the effort and wrote my first children’s story Coats for Winter. It’s about three children who visit their grandparents and gather coats for their school. It teaches compassion and generosity and working together. It is the first in a series (I hope) based on my own childhood on a rural farm in Kentucky. More honey.
And now as I write and watch the pouring rain outside my window, I remember yesterday – so sunny, so beautiful, so perfect for planting, fertilizing, and pruning –all planning ahead for this very soggy day. I am so thankful I heeded the forecast and working my hour this morning in the garden, finished the things necessary before the weather changed. And the weather always changes. Every day is not sunny and bright. Unlike the song on Sesame Street, the sunny days don’t keep the clouds away. But we can prepare for the cold days of winter. We can gather coats like my friend. We can plan ahead. We can work hard. We can prune our thought process. We can even pull out and replant unhealthy thoughts with new, stronger ones. We can gather and give. We can find meaning and purpose in our daily efforts at life – no matter what the forecast.
I am not thinking about the coat I will need to put on in just a few minutes. I am thinking instead about lots of little coats being pulled on and zipped up at the end of a school day – all colors and sizes, warm and dry for winter. And I am grateful for the honey. I am thinking of the Psalmist who said, “If my people would listen, if they would walk in my paths, I would satisfy them with honey from the rock”(Psalm 81:14,17)
Like the rain that was predicted, colder temperatures can’t be far behind. Most of us don’t think too much about the coat we will need – we’ll simply go to the closet and grab one of our choices – fleece today, wool tomorrow. But some people do not have a choice– they might not have the money to buy even one coat. I am thankful I had the privilege of delivering a car full of small coats to an elementary school recently. The principal was thrilled, saying there was much need and each coat would soon find proud, new owners. As I drove away from the school, I gratefully remembered my friends who organized the annual coat drive “Megan’s Closet” in memory of my daughter Megan. The coat drive is held the first of October and in the last two years has collected over 400 little coats along with hats, scarves and mittens for school children in Atlanta and other parts of the world.
My friend knew Megan. She had invited her to visit her classroom to observe her teaching and gather experienced ideas for taking back to her new classroom. She remembered Megan’s joy and enthusiasm for the children. She remembered her love of teaching. She remembered and she did something with those memories that would help someone else. She planned for winter with a child in mind. Oh, it took some work on her part. She wrote the parents. She gathered and sorted the coats. She arranged for delivery. And now, she knows that a group of children will be warmer this winter because of an idea born from sorrow – the honey that transforms into joy in the shape of little coats and gloves for cold days.
I see that transformation again and again and marvel at the continuous mystery of it. Touched by the generosity and thoughtfulness of the coat drive, I joined the effort and wrote my first children’s story Coats for Winter. It’s about three children who visit their grandparents and gather coats for their school. It teaches compassion and generosity and working together. It is the first in a series (I hope) based on my own childhood on a rural farm in Kentucky. More honey.
And now as I write and watch the pouring rain outside my window, I remember yesterday – so sunny, so beautiful, so perfect for planting, fertilizing, and pruning –all planning ahead for this very soggy day. I am so thankful I heeded the forecast and working my hour this morning in the garden, finished the things necessary before the weather changed. And the weather always changes. Every day is not sunny and bright. Unlike the song on Sesame Street, the sunny days don’t keep the clouds away. But we can prepare for the cold days of winter. We can gather coats like my friend. We can plan ahead. We can work hard. We can prune our thought process. We can even pull out and replant unhealthy thoughts with new, stronger ones. We can gather and give. We can find meaning and purpose in our daily efforts at life – no matter what the forecast.
I am not thinking about the coat I will need to put on in just a few minutes. I am thinking instead about lots of little coats being pulled on and zipped up at the end of a school day – all colors and sizes, warm and dry for winter. And I am grateful for the honey. I am thinking of the Psalmist who said, “If my people would listen, if they would walk in my paths, I would satisfy them with honey from the rock”(Psalm 81:14,17)
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