night rain webs.....

 Some days are more emotionally draining than others.  The nature of what transpires during the course of an average workday may appear to be similar on the surface.  Same tasks.  Same timeframe. Same kind of interactions.  Same types of stories.  What alters the emotional context of one day to the next is what you bring to it.  We alight on an seemingly ordinary weekday with a bag of sticky tricky worries, a list of MUST DO's,  a whole set of emotions stretched and challenged by fatigue, or new energy..... by stress or by a wicked sense of wonderment.  

Fueled by how we choose to see, hear, feel, touch, inhale, give and receive life in and around us, the day unfolds as it will.  Even if we make our best attempt at looking through our lens with beauty, circumstances can throw us off course and quickly deplete our energy.   Today was one of those kind of days.  Rainy, slow shuffling pace, tired.  No amount of caffeine could artificially boost me up beyond the rainy grey skies.  My energy was perpetually damp and sluggish.  My feelings were easily tipped.  To say that its very difficult to work in a counselling environment on days when you're not at your best is understating the obvious.  Feelings and energy aside, you've got to rise to the needs, knowing that at the end of the day, you won't have much left in the reserves.   

I recently met with a Spirit Guide who amazed and astounded me with the "messages" he passed onto me through the "angels" who have been hanging out around me all my life.  The messages were bang on accurate that I have yet to really process the whole experience.  However, one of the comments made (and this guy had no idea I was a counsellor or a writer OR had a strong desire to alter my career path from counselling to writing/facilitating and he hit on all three over and over again!) was that I have recently lost the ability to let go of the emotional spillage of others.... that it is seeping under my skin more readily than it used to.  He warned me to be more aware of this..... that if I was feeling sad or drained it was more than likely not my own "stuff" I was reacting to.  Rather, it had more to do with the feelings and stories others were sharing with me.  He was right.  I realized that today as I kept attempting to find the balance in myself and failing at it.  

I am certainly more focused than I was a few months back and am capable of performing my job, but there is a residual sense of vulnerability that gets tweaked too frequently/rapidly than it used to.  A transference of emotions happens quickly, like my empathy valve is open too wide.  It has made me really question whether the time is ripe to seriously take some formal steps towards a new career.  I don't feel burnt out from counselling.  I still love it.  I love the connections and I know I'm just as effective.  My focus is sharp when someone needs me.  Uber focused even.  Its just that I'm in a different frame of mind.  I've changed.  The shift has happened. Vulnerability is a raw place to be, but it isn't a bad place to be.  It is where creativity dwells.  I want that opportunity to dwell there........ to create.  The timing may be right now.  

I write this tonight........ after going for a walk with my dog.  It is still raining.  Most of the snow has melted away.  The street was dark save for a few lights along the abandoned gardens in my neighbours' yards.  I shuffled along thinking......reflecting on the day, trying to figure out why the blues grabbed hold of my soul when in fact it should be the opposite.  And I remembered what the Spirit Guide told me.  I am harbouring the emotions and stories of others, allowing them to weigh me down. 

However, as I turned around to walk back up the street, my eyes gravitated to the lonely streetlight that happens to be on the edge of my front lawn.  It's rays shone through the leafless trees, and touched upon the hydro wires and telephone lines leaving the rainsoaked limbs and lines glistening   The light and water droplets formed a large web filled with diamond sparkles.  Silent light to catch whatever worries, fatigue, frets, feelings you want to toss into it.  

I stood just below the big tree on my front lawn....... the one that captured the streetlight strength the most and was left in awe of its beauty..... nature touched by manmade light.  Then, I threw my thoughts and feelings UP into its magical web.  A nighttime dreamy web....... and let go of what I truly can't control and let them attach to the light sparkles in the trees.

And here I am now........ still tired, but lighter.  Still wondering whether I am ready to let go of my original calling I have honed and loved dearly and step into the wilderness of something brand new........... Interesting times. Interesting thoughts on a rainy December night full of glistening webs of diamond sparkled limbs.  I LOVE the last vestiges of the evening before bedtime.  For some reason, resolutions feel so much  more gratifying.

Tonight's photo theme is Night.  For more photos and interpretations, check out Carmi's blog. 

Empathy turns Love into a verb.

For mercy has a human heart

Pity a human face

And love, the human form divine.

William Blake.

We strive to be authentic in our way of knowing, hoping it leads to a primordial fluttering of grace.

If.......

We reach out our hand to hold,

We step forward with our eyes open,

We understand with our open heart to understand.
Our capacity to love grows from seeds.
Sometimes when sorrow pounds on temples of loneliness, when fear rips open soiled hearts, when anger spits at crippled feet overused seeking solace, it takes one unleashed tiny beam of empathy to lighten big burdens. Empathy is the light shining beauty on purple welts.
Out of love grows compassion.
Out of compassion comes our ability to feel for others.

Empathy happens when your hearthreads reach out and wrap around someone else's hurt because you're curious to know what it's like to be them. It our best way of looking through someone else's lens.  Empathy is made from a merciful heart, a soft knowing smile, and the unconditional love of a curious human being.

_______________________________

A young boy on the verge of adolescence asks....... What does it feel like when someone wraps you up in their heartthreads?

You answer: 

Like 

a warm comforting cup of tea
a soft affirmation, like you matter
an engaging smile that pierces your heart
sharing tears
a nod of knowing 

eye contact that tells you they get it.
Its like having someone take the shawl from their shoulders to wrap you up in it like a cocoon. You can feel their heat, and smell their perfume.

Yes, but what do those things FEEL like? How does empathy make you feel?

Loved. Empathy makes you feel loved.

But how does love feel?

Like a a goodnight kiss when I tuck you in.

Like the feeling you have when you are surrounded by your best friends.

Like the joy of a free fall on a day when the sky is a September blue......into the arms of God.

oh. I always thought it felt like having a sleeping puppy on your lap.

you got it.........

ps.  Let your heartthreads wrap around someone in need today.  AND, let someone wrap theirs around YOU.   :)

a ghost just needs a home.....

 

Ana sat crumpled at the foot of the hill, a royal blue stone cupped in her hand. Exhausted in mind and body, she couldn't find the energy to walk up the path as she did everyday. She had lost the impetus to continue. She had lost her way. It simply felt too difficult to carry on with her mission. The meaning of it had slipped out of her grasp.

No matter what the weather, Ana had treked up to the top of the hill to place a stone she had carefully chosen and carried onto the pile which had accumulated over time. This was her lifework. She loved her stones and usually took pleasure in choosing the ones who spoke to her. Over the years, she came to believe stones were a home for spirits. They individually held ancestral stories. They were our collective legend. 

Her best days were when Ana discovered a diamond in the rough......a stone which resonated heat from its core when she cupped it in the palm of her hand. She called those ones "touchstones" because they seemed to carry lovewisdom in them, derived from living in the heart of eternity. Touchstones, she believed held the stories from the past......full of ancestral feelings. Through her eyes, the collection she had accumulated was a living piece of art....a choir. Recently, the stones had become silent. Her mission, she questioned.

There were days when she would fill a whole basket full of stones and carry them up the hill. Most days, however, she journeyed with a single solitary one, like the blue gem she was holding onto. All of them were uniquely imperfect and multi-coloured.....some with pink coral bits of quartz that sparkled in the sunshine, some more muted in a rich brown like the cliffs that framed the river below. One at a time, she would place them onto the evergrowing, everchanging pile, and step back to see how her work had shaped a difference. The hill was indeed growing, as was the sculpture of stone spirits. It had felt right. Her sense of purpose filled her with a productive connection to the rest of the world, that this is what she was put on this planet to do.

Today, she had lost her footing. Her shoes were worn, full of sole stabbing pebbles. Sadly, it also seemed silly all of a sudden, and this awareness tripped her own spirit with used up air. So many people had questioned her lifework over the years, had put up boulders along her path but she was always able to overcome whatever the obstacle. Her optimism and focus usually slayed the negativity and doubt. "A ghost just needs a home....." was her reply.

For some reason though, the opponent's words now haunted her thoughts and the more she listened to them replay in her head, the more she felt rejected. She looked at her worn scarred hands dried and cracked from the salty grit, remnants of her labours, her nails chipped and ugly and was overwhelmed by a sense of futility. Misunderstood and unloved, that's how she felt. Her mission rejected. Her person rejected. When did her own self entwine with her mission? When did they become one in the same? She didn't have the answer.

As she sat in a heap afternoon, Ana looked at the last touchstone she had discovered. It was a smooth blue stone with white cracks etched on its surface. Its size fit perfectly in her palm, but it was far from perfect. In fact, it held character.......with chipped edges softened by the tides. This one  she had carried with her for a long time.  For some reason, she couldn't part with it.  Instead, she had kept it tucked in her pocket for company. 

So, as she sat questioning whether or not this truly was her legend or whether it was about to change, she found herself clutching onto the blue stone rubbing it's softness., hoping the spirit it held would speak reassurances.  She ran her fingers unconciously over its fissures feeling the warmth generated from her touch. It helped her surrender her worries to the air around her. The more she repeated the movement, the more she could feel her muscles relax and her mind clear.

Time stretched on unnoticed as Ana found comfort in her meditation.....so much so that she was startled completely when she looked up and saw a man hiking down the hill close to the path she used everyday. In all of her days working on her mission, she had never seen anyone else on her hill. But, there he was. His steps seemed light and energetic, his arms swinging in purposeful motion. Continuing to stare at him like he was an apparition, Ana stood up to greet him as he reached the bottom of the hill.

"Have you been to the top of the hill?" he asked smiling.

"Oh, yes," Ana replied, "I walk up every morning," her reason kept silently in her pocket cupped in her hand. "And you? Is this your first time hiking in this area? I'm surprised I have never seen you before."

"You've seen the altar then?" he asked boldly. 

Before she could overcome her confusion and gather her thoughts he continued...."Our paths probably havent crossed because I always take my walk at this time of day after I've finished my work. I find this is when the angle of the afternoon sun gives the altar a warm welcoming glow. Somehow, the stones someone has placed together comes alive and sings to me...." The look on Ana's face must've made the man realize she didn't know what he was referring to. He continued..."you have seen the altar, right?"

"No, well yes I have," blurted Ana, "it's just that I see it as a piece of artwork and nothing more."

"Oh, it's much more than that. Maybe you've never experienced the feeling because you're usually here in the morning" he reassured her. "Someone has worked very hard to build a beautiful chantry and at this time of day, when the sun warms and reflects its light off the golden touchstones the spirits share their wisdom with me. I hope you don't think I'm crazy, but I have found a place where I can lay my worries, where I can relax. It is where I come to pray everyday. It's where I give thanks."

"The stones speak to you? You pray there and give thanks?" Ana asked a bit dumbfounded. He tentatively nodded, unsure as to how this woman was receiving the informaton he shared with her.

"They speak to me too," she admitted...." which is why I have walked up this hill everyday with a new stone in my pocket to add to my art. I wanted to give the ancestral stories they hold a home."

"You built the altar?"

Ana nodded tentatively. "I never saw it as an altar. I saw it as spirit sculpture."

"Your piece of art is a place of worship. It is beautiful! Oh! I want you to see it with new eyes and in a new light....come with me," he said with the excitement of a young boy who has just discovered an abandoned treefort.

As they walked up the hill, the sun warming their backs, Ana explained why she was there at a different time of day. She also shared with the man how lost she had felt because her sense of purpose seemed futile to her now. She told him she was going to give up on her mission....and was so worried about what she would do next. He listened without judgement and only asked a few questions as a way to help her find her words.

It was a different path than Ana had travelled on every single day so when they reached the summit, she was approaching it from a new angle. So, as soon as the stones came into her sight, Ana stopped abruptly and looked directly at the pile of stones which suddenly had transformed from an abstract piece of art to what the man had described. She saw the altar. Not only that, she heard the choir of spirits reflected from the afternoon sun.

Smiling, she approached her loving stones....the ones she had given a home to....and knelt down in front of them. The man knelt down beside her and quietly whispered...."You may have started your lifework by providing a place where the stories could find a home, but somewhere along the line, your mission changed.....you have built yourself one."

"I see that now......I see that now...."

Ana bowed her head that day and prayed the only two words needed in prayer.

"thank you."

______________

postscript........  

I wrote this piece over a year and a half ago.  I was in a very different place and it entailed sitting at the bottom of a hill wondering what the purpose was of my writing and the obsession with it. 

We begin projects (ie blogging) with clarity of purpose and so often we lose the thread which ties us to the original reason. Or perhaps the reason for the journey begins to take on a different meaning. For so long, I saw myself as a "collector of stories." The stories others shared had a home within me. They had a voice too when I became a storyteller.  I am a counsellor and a writer.  My blog is the temporary home I chose to collect my "touchstones..."  I set out to create a piece of art through my writing.  I now see that I have been building an altar.  Today for the first time, I see this.  

Amazing grace. How sweet the sound.

Somewhere along the line, as I collected and shared.....the meaning of my work, the direction of my journey began to take on a new shape as I realized the touchstones in my life have been providing me with lessons and have pointed out the direction of a new path. Though it is still a bit blurry.....my vision needs some adjusting, I am finally seeing that perhaps I need to personally find an altar I can call home. 

It wont be a traditional one.  I ain't a traditional kind of gal.  I clearly don't see myself studying to become a Minister working within the walls of a church.  I'd rather be out in the forests looking for waterfalls and talking to lost waifs.  I see myself facilitating...... up in front of others.  My vision however, always  begins at the source of my writing.  This is what will lead me.  This  blog is  where I found my voice.

I have a long way to go.....and I don't know the way or even how to go about it. But I do see it and my God, I'm blessed with the guidance of many to help me along the way. It is what I want. The spirit in me  just needs a home.  The foundation is set.  I am unstuck walking up that hill, a blue touchstone in my hand.  Let the choir sing.  

Found Blessings

Today, I stood up at the front of St. Paul's United church and delivered the Sunday service message.   As I stood up there, I felt grounded and centred, mostly due to the loving support of my friends and family, some of whom were there sitting in the pews smiling up at me throughout it all.  I absolutely LOVED looking up to the balcony and seeing my son looking down on me smiling.  He knows now that his Momma has her strength back.    My daughter left for summer camp yesterday so she wasn't there but I know she was thinking of me and I her. 

The whole process has been spiritually enhancing beyond my expectations.  It allowed me to travel beyond the line on my horizon to a place I have never visited.  I have "lived" outside of my comfort zone for over a week trying to "get it right......."  and it wasn't until 2 o'clock this morning when I found myself standing in my kitchen practising reading the last version I had just completed with enough energy to light up the street!  

I could write a whole blog post on the process... and how it was intertwined with a whole bunch of other "happenings" that have occured over the past two weeks.....work, home and play stuff.  What a TRIP!  Life has a way of pulling you back up onto your feet in the heat of adversity and kissing you with affirmation and love from the most interesting places.  It has been a week of good energy.  Good strong life affirming energy on all levels.  

I have so much I want to write about....... however that will wait........ for now I want to post my sermon to share.   

PS.......to everyone who has emailed me, checked on me, phoned me, and sent me their kind wishes and prayers....... thank you, thank you.  Know that you were all with me today.  I felt your presence strongly.  I really did.  I sure wasn't up there alone. 

____________________________________________

Found Blessings.

This morning, I would like to begin by reading a blessing written by John O'Donohue.   It's from his book, Bless the Space Between Us.  For the past couple of months I have read it aloud to myself every morning.  It has given me strength and focus to start a new day.  Today,  share it with you......

I arise today

Blessed by all things,

Wings of breath,

Delight of eyes,

Wonder of whisper,

Intimacy of touch

Eternity of soul, 

Urgency of thought

Miracle of health,

Embrace of God.

May I live this day

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word, 

Gracious in awareness,

Courageous in thought, 

Generous in love.........

God’s abundance.  How do you define that?  It seems like such an easy concept to explain doesn’t it?  Personally, I found it was almost too big to harness. There are SO many paths one can journey on to seek out the meaning….. meandering paths of thought FULL ideas.  

As I prepared what I wanted to share with you today, I searched for it through many angles…from a theoretical perspective as well as one that was faith based ….. I looked at it through the lens of a Mom as well as the other roles I am in my life.  I looked at it through the eyes of a writer too.  And I have to admit, that the more I thought about it,  the more I wrote about Abundance.  Then I would lose myself in the harvesting of treasures AND would write MORE.   

It kind of overwhelmed me.  Which actually made me laugh because I found myself overwhelmed by abundance.  A little ironic don’t you think?   I probably have enough written down for a book!  Who knows?  Maybe I’m onto something.  

But that’s for another day.  Today, I humbly stand up here, as a human being who has been given the gift of spiritual learning through the process of reflection and contemplation, through many discussions with friends and family…..inside spiritually quiet times when I was able to see all of the “found blessings” that make my cup runneth over. Daily.  It’s been a beautifully challenging experience.  I feel richer for it.  

Throughout most of internal travels however, I was missing the key ingredient because I was being too fancy with my brain and it was making me too wordy. Too much thinking, the people in my life say …. I think too much. 

Yesterday, I took a trip to a place tucked into the woods near Norton.  Smith’s Falls.  It was beautiful.  The walk through the woods filled me with a sense of peace.  When I reached my destination…. At the bottom of this resplendent waterfalls, I sat down on a rock and looked up to the top of the gorge where the sun filtered through the pine and sparkling on the tumbling water rushing down the rocks in a formation of its own making. Automatically, I found my breath.  I slowed down, mind and body and let abundance find me.  In a matter of moments….. connected to nature and God’s beauty…..

I realized that….

Abundance is the collection of bountiful feelings we experience when connecting with nature and with others in a way that provides us with the nutritious gift of grace.

It’s about learning how to open your senses to a new awareness that no matter what may be happening in your life, or what you are observing God provides these gifts as blessings.  Bread for the journey is bountiful.  It is up to us to share the fullness of our hearts.  

It’s about recognizing all that we have to give and receive is more than enough and then some!  Just like the story of the fishes and the loaves.  There were twelve full baskets left over!  We have much to give……and then some.  

Jean Vanier, who lives his values and beliefs every day through the L’Arche community where he resides, wrote an amazing thought provoking book called Becoming Human…… In it he explains….  "When we tell stories, we touch hearts. If we talk about theories and speak about ideas, the mind may assimilate them but the heart remains untouched. It is the story of a specific person that is the way to the heart."  I firmly believe he’s onto something!   This is the gift of abundance.

Heart stories……. Connecting….. feeling loved, significant, humbled, affirmed, forgiven, listened to…….. Think about how you feel when someone really and truly listens to you…. From their heart.  Is that not abundance?  Think about how you feel when you are able to put aside all the busy demands, the list of TO DO’s….. when You are able to give your full attention to someone in need…… to listen.  From your heart. What a learning gift.  A simple human gift, which opens our eyes to the faces of God.  

As a counsellor and facilitator, I have been blessed with the opportunity to connect with many hearts.  I’m a storykeeper.  As a person who loves to write and to interact with others, I am a storyteller.  Both sides of the coin.  I can’t tell you how many times I have met with someone in their home, in my office, in the hospital, in a coffee shop and was left feeling enriched beyond words.  As a human being, I too have been blessed with many people in my life who listen to my stories too, and the same feeling abounds.  We share.  We tune into abundance and we are changed forever.  

Not long ago, I had the privilege of sitting in a hospital room with a young man who was dying of Crohn's disease. I was shocked at how skeletal he was.... how unbelievably sick he had been since I had first met him a few years back. His energy was very low. His lips parched and dry because he was receiving all his nutrients and food through a tube in his stomach. He was too weak to digest it any other way. In the hospital for 4 months at the time of our meeting, he had suffered through 3 painful surgeries and admitted that he didn't know if he had the strength to go through another..... another had been scheduled.

At first, I didn't know if he could physically handle my visit, but I was there to help him get some extra money by applying for a disability pension.  He needed the money and greeted me with as much energy as he could conjure up.

This man was a preacher.   Before he fell too ill, he’d led a parish church in a rural area in Northern New Brunswick.  Despite the constant pain and ill health,  his faith was still very much intact.

He spoke of the kindness of the hospital staff......how they arranged for a private room for him even though he didn't necessarily qualify. He lit up when he talked about his best friend, who had been visiting when I arrived and praying quietly with him....how they had studied together to be preachers....how they used to go fishing together. He talked about how blessed he was to have three children and how heartbreaking it was for him to realize that he probably wouldn’t  be around to see them grow up to be adults. He pointed out the flowers that arrived in the middle of a snowstorm the day before (a little miracle he called it.) He smiled broadly. 

He then lamented on how much he missed the ulimate freedom of going for a drive into the country all by himself. And as he reflected....as this man with such poor health, and with no money reflected....he told me how rich he was in so many ways.

2 hours later, I left his hospital room far richer too than I had been when I arrived. I left with the sound of rural parish church bell ringing inside.  A heart connection. They never fade. 

Father Henri Nouwen who also lived in a L’Arche Community wrote about the diversity of people comparing us to mosaic stones. Each one of us is represented by a tiny piece of colour, beautiful on its own, but much more revealing of the face of God when seen as a design together. 

Our community lives and breathes suffering and struggle. It lives and breathes love and compassion. It displays the faces of humanity, shaded by the lined scars of adversity....and a longing for connection and validation between human beings.  Community, he writes, is "where humility and glory touch." And to me, that is where prosperity dwells. You see it abundantly in the welfare office where I worked for many years. Out in the margins I saw, heard, felt and was deeply moved by humility and glory touching.  

A couple of summers ago, I was inspired to write a story poem about a scene I witnessed  in the alley by the Community Kitchen as I sat in my car.   I was the only one who saw it unfold.  I listened with my EYES and I knew in an instant I was richer for the experience.  

A scene from an alley 

Under puddle grey skies they emerge,

in large numbers

filing out through the heavy metal door

lighting up in unison --

An after dinner toke on a full stomach.

The best tasting cigarette of the day

besides the first one with morning coffee.

But sometimes there's no sweet aromatic coffee.

It's made from grains of yesterday

Bitter tar-like substance from the bottom of an urn.  

Sometimes morning begins

starring at the underbelly of a bridge

in backbreaking pain,

where no coffee is brewing

where the only smoke is a discarded butt. 

Sometimes morning begins in

a sock stinking room shared by 10 damp strangers

Shivering under an unknown blanket,

worn and used by others prickly and unwelcoming transience.

Coffee there is weakly tepid

Served in a stained unfamiliar mug. 

At first glance, I see

Weather worn faces seemingly the same

Dazed, angry, bone weary aged.

Empty discards in oversized pants from Sally Ann

in threadbare shirts, wrinkled from sleep

tattered, torn faded colour 

Surrendered souls

Who have seen the bottom of a bottle of cheap whiskey many times

Who have felt the biting winter winds many times

and know it feels the same as the hard slap from the back of a hand.

They've felt them both and know they are the same. 

Strangers lost in a fog of mental illness, no luck, abuse and a lifelong hangover.

Numbed on the bare boned skinned knee open wound existence. 

But tonight,
as they emerge and converge for an after dinner smoke
Gathering in an puddle filled alley
hidden by a brick building,
where the shelter and the kitchen
make it a meaningful destination,

I look again and see some familiar faces.

People who have visited me in my office.

Human beings I have seen around town.

The man with the marionette monkey

who makes it dance for money every Saturday at the market.

The woman who collects bottles and cans from the dumpster behind my office building

The mom and her two kids whom I've shared a coffee chat with in her home.

The guy who sleeps on the bench in the park downtown

A few whose names I don't know,

but have seen in the lobby of the welfare office

.Many I don't recognize.

Many are lost in a schizophrenic fog.

Some gather together to talk, while others stay within themselves

lost in the periphery of the marginalized.

Marginalized by the marginalized.

Our society breathes hierarchy like dragon's breath
 

One small statured man walks gingerly and awkward

trying to pretend he isn't completely drunk

Another with a shaved head whose eyes dart in paranoia paces.

And another, and another............same look.......same space....
 

Sober --stark, real, cold, wet reality. Who wants sober? 

I change the lens I am using in a blink

I change my gaze and what do I see… 

Right in the middle of this ragamuffin group?

Is a little boy

about 4 years old

with a red ballcap

and red crocs on his feet

glides by on his scooter.

Whoosh............his colourful presence

captivates.

Like a taste of watermelon on a hot day. 

In and out he sails,

splashing through the grey sky puddles

twisting and turning his scooter

past the sad adult faces too hurt to pay attention

Oblivious to his joy

He oblivious (maybe) to their sorrow.
 

The scooter skids and the little boy yelps.

All eyes turn to him.

His mother, incapacitated by a full leg cast lurches forward

Her maternal response stymied by immobility.

Her face shows concern.  Love.  Fear. Her boy needs her. 

Out of the blue…….

A found blessing friendly face intervenes.

He tends to the little boy,

then with a twinkle of dare, he playfully takes the scooter

and turns the scene into a circus romp. 

He's a smiling clown makes the little boy laugh from his belly

His scraped knee forgotton as he watches this man balance on a wee scooter…

Those worn out adults on the sidelines, thirsty for relief begin to cheer on the clown.

Set in the midst of grey puddle despair

A community of smiles grin the grace of abundance.
 

It left me wondering if Jesus was close by taking it all in.

I think He was.

He always is, isn’t he? 

Out in the margins, where true prosperity dwells,

Where humility and glory touch?

Jesus is there taking it all in.

 

The Bible says, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”   This includes both sides of the coin……. having the chance to spill out a slice of your story to someone who is listening with their whole being and being the receiver of a human story as you listen with your whole being.  Human stories.  Heart connections.  As the extension of God’s love, we have it to give and then some.  And when we do, our whole community prospers.  

This week, I hope you have a chance to see abundance from a new angle…. And to feel the fullness of its discovery.  May you listen and be listened to as you share a slice of your stories.  From the heart, where treasures dwells.  May you find the blessing of discovery gazing into the eyes of another face of God in your life.  

Prayer for the Times..

I was asked to write and to lead the congregation in "Prayer for the Times" today at St. Paul's United Church.  It is part of the weekly service.  My dear friend Andrea organized the whole service and delivered the sermon.  She did a beautiful job.  I'm so proud of her.....  she has been my angel this spring. 

The feeling of standing up at the front of the church was humbling and empowering at the same time.  I could hear my own voice and it felt strong.  Strong.  I think my voice is back.  It has a different timbre to it.... perhaps its all that whiskey i've been consuming?  Kidding!   

It was a very special moment and I'm grateful to have been asked to play a role.

Here is my prayer.... the words and thoughts are a culmination of what I have been thinking and writing about recently.   I'm posting it for my loving friend Rick.  When I got home from church, there was a message that his Mom had passed away last night.  Rick and Sheila?  I love you both...... and wish I could be there to help you with ALL that you are feeling.   And know we are just a finger tip touch away from one another.  xx

_______________________________________

Let us take a moment to be still together and take in a collective deep breath............

Hello dear God.

As we stand here before You with refreshed breath of Your Spirit, we give our heartfelt thanks for the gifts you provide every single day... those simple extraordinary offerings we sometimes miss in the flurry busyness of our lives.  Today, we stand in stillness reflecting upon our own lessons knowing that, like renewal, growth is conceived in the heart of discontent, fed by the inner light of silent conversations with you God, until it breaks through the clay of our blended souls.  

We share the same feelings, and many of us share the same happiness and heartbreak.  This is what blends our souls in a spiritual sense of oneness.  We all know the feeling of hungry hope.  You have provided us with this gift, God.  Hope, you have taught us, is a companion of a broken spirit.  It is the oxygen in the breeze that caresses our restless sufferings with tenderness.  Hope reminds renewal to be patient with its re-emerging and to know that most of our personal growth will be invisible to the outward glance, but colourfully recognizable when we gaze inwardly to speak to You. 

Through suffering God, we are learning to surrender.  Through surrendering, we are learning how connected we are to a greater Realm. And it is through our connection with you and with one another, we begin to feel loved in a much different way than perhaps we have ever felt before. 

Forgive us dear God, for we are often slow to catch on because we tend to veer out into the wild and lose our way busy trying to deal with the events life throws at us.  Please help us remember that what may feel overwhelming shifts our gaze and offers us a glimpse of a field of diamonds off in the distance..... those tantalizing sparkling gems with winking twinkling c'mons that have the power to awaken our hunger for enlightenment, and to tickle our parched thirsts for a drop of understanding.

Please remind us God that renewal doesn't occur because of one event.  It may be the spark that ignites the change in direction, but it is not the conclusion.  Rather, it is the impetus set in the clay of our blended souls..... the foundation we rely on for support as we ride the waves of change, one wave at a time.

Please remind us God that renewal in all of its diamond splendour is simply our crooked journey signmarked by our recognition of love dressed in complicated life riddles.  Eventually it leads us to a place we can call home.  We must walk unprotected, barefooted..... pierced by the nettles and thorns of suffering that scracth and sting....... that leave pockmarked scars on our flesh.  

With your Guidance God, we will learn to walk aided and unaided........ to take risks while learning as much from our hurts as we do our triumphs, while reaching out to give while being open to receiving gifts we are offered.  By so doing, we learn that the clay of blended souls we walk upon?  We are a part of that clay.  We belong to a universe who shares the same feelings, who thrive and survive, who suffer and feel joy, who nurture and are nurtured by one another.

Renewal may be conceived inside the heart of discontent, but the light of its darkness seems to shed Your rays on our gardens, inside our homes, waiting to be discovered.  As pilgrims dear God, guide us when we are too surprised by the answers to those life riddles.  Teach us that this is where awareness resides.  This is where growth lives.  This is where we come together to feel peace.  

May we all walk in peace with you and with one another today.  The first day of summer is almost here.

Amen. 

"Believe in Me"

 we never walk alone

Here are my rambling thoughts this beautiful Sunday morning ........the lilacs are beginning to bloom and there isn't a cloud in the sky....... 

When you say to someone, "I believe in you," what exactly do you mean by that?  It has nothing to do with their outward appearance, or that you can reach out and touch their skin, feel their face, hold their hand.  Surely having the confirmation that the person is real flesh and blood helps, but believing in someone is certainly not that.  There are many people whom I've never had the pleasure of meeting them face to face and I  "believe in them."  Why?  Because they are.........

Truthful

Full of Integrity

Trustworthy

Caring

Compassionate

Expressive

Loved and Loving.
Beautiful in their own unique way.

These the tenets behind that one little statement.  Powerful stuff. 
Its all in the essence of their actions. 

When someone says to you,  "I believe in you," how does that make YOU feel?  Are you apt to smile as you absorb this affirming message, or do you automatically feel the opposite? Rather than a sense of inspiration, do you tense up in perspiration over the very idea that someone would "believe in you" when all can feel is fraudulent?  What stops us from believing that someone else believes in you?  Inconsistent messages.  Insincerity, Lack of trust.  Self loathing. Guilt?  The list is endless.

What happens to the one who once believed in the other human being but can't anymore?  It's shattering.  Why?  Because when you take the risk to be open enough to tell someone you are in their corner, cheering them on, believing in their goodness and core values, it is a vulnerable place to be.  It's a risk.  You've taken a stance that is WIDE open.  When you're WIDE open, you are a bigger target.  When you reach a point in a relationship when the believing is mutual, when it bonds you in partnership and then it all falls to pieces, your ability to believe in anything becomes questionable.  

Lies do that. Secrets create uncertainty.  If someone lies once, will they lie again?    If they are trying to hide the truth from themselves, yes they will.  It's an ineffective hurtful way of trying to cope.  Liars never believe in themselves, and certainly have a tough time accepting that anyone else could "believe in" them either. 

BEEEE-LEEEVE.   It's a masterful word with deep rooted meaning.  When used within the context of a testimonial, it packs a significant punch.  I can't imagine any other phrase, except one other that holds such power. Maybe they mean the same thing.......  they seem to come from the same place, one's heart.  There is the other side of the thought too......... maybe the other person couldn't even grasp the message because they never believed in themselves.  Maybe they don't believe they are worthy of love as well.  Can you really accept such affirmation if you don't see yourself as worthy?  We are all worthy of being loved and of loving others.  How does one help another feel this enough to believe in themselves?

I believe in you.....

I love you.....

Are they one in the same?

I think they are, though as mere mortals, we struggle with giving and receiving this message.  Our stumbling bumbling frailties complicate the purity of simply believing in ourselves.  We are more apt to put ourselves down because we focus on the negative bits....... the ugly bits and stop seeing ourselves as holy unique individuals of beauty.  Sometimes, our ability to express love and compassion to some people in our lives is halted by the fear inside them.  Why?  Is it because humans have created a list of conditional expectations to go along with the love?  

We will never perfect our frailties enough to be able to offer up our love and convictions as unconditionally and as beautiful as God.  We aren't God...... but we are extensions of His love and he has provided us with the emotional capacity and free will to try our best.  He has also created us with a sprinkling of the Holy Spirit in our souls.  When we look at someone in the eyes and tell them that we believe in them..... that we LOVE them, we speak the maternal words of the Holy Spirit.  

God guides us in learning how to share and receive love unconditionally.   He also asks us to practice on Him.  His request............ "Believe in Me..." tells us so.   So, we practice throughout our personal spiritual journeys.  There are days when believing in God is in full bloom and then there are other days when you couldn't scrape a smidgen of conviction out of your soul.  That's alright.  The key is to practice.... to work on it.  

God provides us opportunities to learn how to love and believe through the relationships we covet in our lives.  Its hard work.  Loving and believing aren't givens.  You have to work at it on those days when you couldn't scrape a smidgen of conviction out of your soul.  Both of you.  Sometimes we get it right.  Sometimes we fail miserably.  And, when we stumble.....when we feel like a failure, the healing has to start with yourself.  Relearning that you are "believable"...... that you are "lovable...."  This is the starting point. 

I believe in you.  I do.  I can't live your life and I can't make your decisions.  I can't force you to accept what I have expressed.  I have no control over how you receive my emotionally charged testimonial.  All I can do is try to describe what that statement means to me........ what is behind it.  I take a risk, knowing my love is not perfect, that my beliefs are still forming on my lips as I say it out loud.  And if by me telling you how beautiful you are.......... what a blessing you are in my life.... If by me honestly reminding you that you are a gift from God offers you a gentle nudge towards accepting your own lovability quotient, I will be content.

"I believe in you"............. helps me believe in me too.  Its where honesty takes root. 

Please don't be frightened by it.  There's nothing to be frightened of by someone believing in you..... by someone loving you. 

We are all works in progress........ learning to love and learning how to be loved. Just as we are. 

the lilacs are beginning to bloom.......  This morning, I am still.  I am quiet.  Its good for me.  Why?  Because the quiet allows me to hear those words...... 


"Believe in Me."  


I trust those words.....

The truth leads to forgiveness

On most Sunday mornings, I am awake much earlier than my family and I usually find myself immersed in an internet search of something tied to Christianity.  Whether it is a prayer I can't quite remember the words to, or it is reading a blog that would be considered faith based, or it is a word or a term that has somehow floated up from my imagination, my searches end up taking me to places where new information sits waiting for me to delve into.  My curiosity feeds my fascination and unrelenting thirst to find a place in a church of its own making. On Sunday mornings,  I follow a Christian trail.  

Of course, this cerebral  trail of mine is never straight and narrow. It is a convoluted meandering path with many visual places to stop and ponder.  It also branches out in different directions, encouraging me to make choices on where to trod.   I may start with one speck of a question in mind, but then the more I explore various links, blogs, websites, my head fills up with a broad range of thoughts and feelings.  It's like I start almost brain empty early Sunday morning,  focused by the motivation "to know more..." and all of a sudden, I'm standing in a field that seems familiar but the angle I'm observing it from has altered.  New angle, new light.  New angle, new gaze.  My cerebral explorations almost always wakes up my heart. That is where the sacred light goes in and my own soul light comes from.  From there, I feel the words form...... and I become a vessel.

Its always been that way as a writer/blogger.  Under the umbrella theme of Awareness, I have attempted to allow my thirsty interests.... my curiosity to guide my musing fingertips on the keyboard.  It is a way of learning I never really understood until I started writing again.  Until then, I had always considered the act of finding words to harness the floating bits in my brain as the practise of sharing what I had ALREADY figured out.  Hardly.  

The most important component of integrating new learning with old learning in order to allow it to sink into a place of synthesized acceptance OR to dismiss it outrightly, is writing.  As I write, I challenge my thinking.  As I write, I stare at my feelings.  As I write, I ask myself................. is what I am thinking or feeling the truth?  Can I shift?  And if it isn't quite the truth, can I accept this "new angle" as an important part of  choosing the path that may lead to truth and bare naked honesty?  yes.  

Honest reflections form the basis of establishing the freedom of our imbedded conscience.   Truths may alter, may fall off to the wayside with new learning, may transform our lives in ways we don't understand or even want to accept.  They may be hard and extremely hurtful, or they may lift you up in a smile, but the truth is all we have to build on our faith.  Writing helps strengthen my vision of the truths that are attached to my wavering thoughts and fleeting feelings by anchoring it to what I already have learned.   Writing allows me to challenge what I thought was true, and offers me a much needed venue to pull together a mess of seemingly unattached ideas so I can find linearity in the threads.  There is truth and honesty in those jeezly threads!!!  I just know it. :)

This morning, I learned that the Sunday after Easter is considered the Sunday of Divine Mercy, as practised in the Catholic church.  My morning journey to seek out the genesis and meaning behind this day of mercy, allowed me to quench a thirst while reading the story of Saint Faustina, a Polish Sister canonized by Pope John Paul II whose visions and writings brought forward Jesus' message of forgiveness.   As I read more about her life, about her mystical gifts, about the health issues she suffered, about her devotion to her faith,  my thoughts were peppered by dozens of questions, from whether or not I really believe in the whole Sainthood process, to how comforting her message may be today to the people in her home country who are mourning the tragic losses of their leaders in the plane crash on Saturday.  

Saint Faustina's unwavering beliefs may even be severely challenged by the faithful today, the day of Divine Mercy, as they process their shock and grief, but the message of mercy and forgiveness will eventually prevail. 

The whole idea of unconditional forgiveness, of a Divine Mercy resonates with me and it always has.  Though I didn't know there was a Saint who represented this, I'm not surprised.  For someone like me, who lives in a place somewhere beside formalized religious indoctrinations (like next door on a wooded lot .....) I usually take what I've learned and try to apply it to my own life and to the ones I love.  In actuality, that is what happens to people who attend services regularly and believe in Christianity.  Our places of worship may look very different..... the altars are designed in many forms.   

What I have gleaned this morning as I contemplate the lessons of God's unconditional love and forgiveness is that the only way it can happen fully is to strive for honesty.   Living lies....living secrets and avoiding confessions of our sins is never going to lead to mercy.  It is what Desmond Tutu lives by.  Truth and reconciliation.  He led a whole country to healing and wholeness because he believe in this heart and soul.  He took his beliefs and turned it into action.  He encouraged his country to face up to their sins,  and by so doing, helped them shift their truths and offered them a way to look deeply into their consciences.  Divine Mercy.  He didn't do this without anger and resentment in his heart.  He did this in order to alleviate those damaging instruments of the soul.  Because he believed in the heart of truth, justice, fairness and peace, and because he believed in forgiveness, this gracious man led through his faith.

As an extension of God, Bishop Desmont Tutu wrote, "I am human because you are human. My humanity is caught up in yours and if you are dehumanized, I am dehumanized, and anger and resentment and retribution are corrosive of this great good, the harmony that has got to exist between people."    I love that!!!!

On Sunday mornings, I sometimes follow a path that begins with a fired up curiosity.  Today, I want to strive a little closer to  forgiveness in my own situation.  It will eventually bring peace and harmony.  Not overnight.  Not next week.  One day.   It will look and feel very different than it once did, but that's what I want for myself and for my children.   Today, I relearned that in order to accomplish this state of being............. in order to feel a sense of Divine Mercy, honesty and truth, not lies and secrets is the only path to take.   

Thank you Saint Faustina..... you just helped a wayward little one who doesn't attend the Catholic church find the strength to walk the talk..... to act upon the thoughts and feelings.  This is living our faith.  One step at a time. One confession at a time.  The truth does set you free...........