Reflections on spirituality, life, meaning, and purpose
Menu
Search
Author: Carissa A. Kane
Carissa A. Kanehttps://hopethatfloats.wordpress.comI am passionate about spirituality and the journey to deepen and grow in relationship with God.
My desire to live a life rooted in the Divine, and to journey with others who wish to do so, has grown, as have I, through the joys and sorrows, the struggles, victories and challenges of life.
I feel blessed to be a child of God, wife, mother, writer, spiritual director, and retreat director.
Here and there throughout the years, a woodpecker or two take a liking to the backyard, and then the shed, or even sometimes the house. At that point, paths tangled, it becomes CD time. And so, with fishing line, one by one, the ornaments are hung in hopes of protecting the outside of the shed and house.
Initially, as the CDs inflect, reflect, and deflect the rays of light that shine their way throughout the day, they deter not only the woodpeckers, but also the cardinals, robins, and blue jays that are normally here. However, after a week or so, thankfully, the others seem to remember, or become aware of what is going on, and they return home. Then, looking out from the inside, the backyard is back to the more typical flutter of more inspiring activity.
It is interesting how, whether inside or out, day or night, there is the shimmering of Light, sometimes brighter or more noticeable. Always present though. And, while it drives away some, it draws in others.
Inflecting… reflecting… deflecting… resonating life. Calling to one, calling to all, trust… believe… stay the Path.
The LORD is near to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in truth. – Psalm 145:18
A couple of summers ago, while visiting family, we decided to go out for ice cream. As we opened the back door of the mini-van, immediately, and with great enthusiasm, the dog jumped in, and was ready to go. Unfortunately, the dog could not come with us, and needed to be escorted back out of the vehicle. As disappointed as he seemed though, when we got back to the house, his excitement upon our reuniting was as if his disappointment or hopes dashed prior to our departure, had never occurred.
It is interesting how dogs, act and react, especially when they are excited. Perhaps, jumping and bouncing, running back and forth, and/or wagging their tails furiously at the approach of a favorite treat or as a loved one returns home. Then there are the other times, when they might plant their paws and growl, preparing to resist, attack, or defend against something non-preferred, or a threat perceived. Regardless of the situation though, what is often most striking is the capacity of dogs to love without abandon.
Moving from wagging tails to wagging fingers, there is the human frailty that causes hearts to bruise, egos to rouse, and hurt to linger. This, all the while, the silent plea, “Come now. Come down off your high horse,” echoes deep within. But, which will win?
Sometimes, it’s time to stop stopping. Stop standing still. When stubborn, yet again, the wagging, it begins. There it is. Getting in the way, determined to carry on, refusing to give in.
At what cost?
So many things, taking up space, too tightly held. How can the space between us do anything, but swell? Wider it becomes… bigger… stronger… bolder it grows. Drifting… fading… falling, tell me, what is so appalling?
One can’t help but wonder, when will this nonsense stop? When will we heed the warning that echoes deep within, “Come now. Come down off your high horse.”?
I give you a new commandment, says the Lord: love one another as I have loved you. – John 13:34
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things. — Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
Among memories of summers past, some of the hotter days rise to the surface. I remember moments, as a child, of hopping from one foot to the other, ooh-ing and ah-ing, while traversing the cement deck or driveway barefoot in route to the cooler green grass on the other side. Along the same lines, there was the trek from the parking lot at the beach, to the water. Whether we entered near a ramp or the stairs leading down to the beach, there was always a tricky section, of varying width and riddled with stones of various sizes or dry shifting sand, to cross before reaching the sand that was flat and smooth and then the water that was cool, and sometimes exhilarating, while at others more serene.
As I think back on these times, equally vivid are the pain and the payoff. There was no way to get from one side to the other without experiencing some level of being uncomfortable and some portion of less or much less than ideal. Yet, the promise of arriving on the other side, the hope of what it held, the lessons learned, and the experience waiting over there, made the effort worthwhile and far outweighed the negatives. It always does.
I do not pray for success, I ask for faithfulness. – St. Teresa of Calcutta
If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts. – Psalm 95
As each wave comes ashore, along the way it covers all that is lower lying. Sometimes stacking up, it covers higher ground too. Then as it recedes, it pulls back toward the ocean all that is loose or unanchored, leaving a murky mixture of unsettled sand and water behind.
The movement is constant, the intensity waxing and waning, turning motion into commotion at times. Yet, standing in the water, witnessing and experiencing the ebb and flow, toes, then feet and more, under water, swaying… sometimes shifting for better footing, sometimes falling over, but ultimately finding the way, and keeping balance amid conditions of low visibility. So much like the days we are in, so much tossed about, up in the air, or sinking.
Still though, in between the waves, and even within, there is Hope. There are always moments of clarity where despite murky water all around, the anchor, tried and true, still holds, and the floor of sand with its assorted pebbles, rocks, and shells can be seen. For water that moves always comes clean. Always, always, refreshing the soul… renewing the heart.
May God enlighten the eyes of our hearts, that we may know what is the hope that belongs to our call. – Ephesians 1:18
A couple of years ago, I came across this large rock while at a retreat house.
While the word “Peace” is noticeably engraved toward the top of the stone, not so easily seen are the words engraved toward the bottom left side of it. “In verdant pastures He gives one rest.” These words are reminiscent of Psalm 23, which begins, “The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack.”
At first glance the rock appears to suggest that peace is an uphill battle. However, despite the fact that it may seem that way, both on this rock and at times in life, perhaps more than anything, it is an invitation. One must remember that Peace is not a destination, but rather a companion on the journey.
As we climb the mountain, the Lord is by our side, solid like a rock, firmly in place, and the peace we find depends upon all that we hold in our hearts and to Whom we lean into, as well as in Whom we rest.
The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack. In green pastures he makes me lie down; to still waters he leads me; he restores my soul. He guides me along right paths for the sake of his name. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me. You set a table before me in front of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Indeed, goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life; I will dwell in the house of the Lord for endless days. – Psalm 23
Under the best of circumstances there are moments that can stretch one to what feels like the end of the line or heading into an abyss. Over the past several months enduring all that has come with the COVID-19 pandemic, on top of the more typical challenges of life, has added entirely new layers to our existence. In many ways, one might say that we are often being pushed to our limits.
When the prophet, Elijah, stepped out from the safety of the cave, he did so trusting the voice of God that called upon him to do so. Prior to reaching Horeb and the cave within it, Elijah, his life in danger for being a vessel of Truth, had fled Samaria and was “on the run” for 40 days and nights. In the First Book of Kings, chapter 19, verse 4, when he says, “Enough, Lord! Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” it certainly seems he has reached his breaking point or been pushed to the brink of what he can tolerate.
However, it is exactly at this point, that Elijah finds respite, laying down, or taking a break. What looks like the end, as is often the case, becomes a new or different beginning, a new leg of the journey. After some sleep, a messenger of the Lord wakes Elijah up and prompts him to eat and drink, and then keep moving on. Under the direction of God, eventually, he arrives at the place, another place, where he meets God once again.
This many thousands of years later, trying as well as unimaginable days still exist, and they are experienced by one and all, in various ways, across the world…across the universe. Yet, at the very same time, there is God, in the urgent fleeing of Elijah, the messenger along the way, in each and every step toward the mountain and into the cave. There is God, constant… continuing presence, through great winds, the quaking of the earth, and in the burning of the fire.
And, also, there is God in the whisperings of the day, beckoning to all who might listen… endless opportunities to recognize, and face, the limits of our patience or understanding. There are so many ways to discover the essence of who we are called to be, and to seek the courage to stand up, come forward to the entrance of the cave, and be true to the Vision.
At the mountain of God, Horeb, Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter. Then the LORD said to him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will be passing by.” A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD— but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake— but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire— but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave. – 1 Kings 19:9A, 11-13A
The rays of light poured forth from the sun, extending toward the sea before carrying on and making their way across the water. Then from there, onto the shore, absorbing all in its path, catching passersby, and filling with gratitude, awe and inspiration, each willing soul along the way.
Sometimes getting from one side to the other is easier said than done. Today I found myself thinking about a day, a number of years ago, that I had to fly out of state to do a training session. It had been a productive day, moving right along with no hitches, but still it was a long day and at the end, I could not wait to be home again. However, the return trip was unexpectedly delayed. I remember checking in and boarding the flight, and feeling relieved as the plane began to depart from the gate. I was thinking that soon we would be in the air and less than a couple of hours later reaching the destination. All was good.
Continuing on, we began to move forward, and we kept moving, but without picking up speed. Then, the plane came to a halt, and remained halted on the tarmac for a number of hours. All passengers confined to their seats, I remember feeling more than a little upset as the time standing there, still, grew longer and longer.
Feeling so stuck, it was hard not to wonder, why? Why did the plane pull away from the gate, leaving one and all stranded, with nowhere to go? What is going on? Why are we waiting here? How long will it be?
Eventually, a far time from departing from the gate, the plane was able to take off. I found myself feeling so thankful along the way, upon landing and deplaning, and even more grateful, upon arriving home and climbing into my bed that late night/early morning. Thinking back on that trip, I remember at first feeling defeated in those long moments of waiting. The situation at hand invasive, threatening to wash away the prior, more pleasant happenings of the day. Then, as the time passed, sifting through various thoughts and feelings, somewhere in between, I remember letting go and arriving at a different destination—peace. All was good.
Back then, I did not understand. Since then, I have come to see. The tarmac, what seemed an empty wasteland, the place of being stuck or just waiting and waiting, held the same peace I was longing for at home. Yet, it was only able to reach me, and me it, in my letting go.
Most often what is waiting in between, the in between—Peace—is what gets one through.
Peace, always reaching out, longing to be held.
Peace, a treasure, seeking to be sought, but more than often not.
Peace, always near, always here, wandering care.
Peace, destined for each other, like the calling of a mother.
Taking a stroll… wandering to and fro… wondering and thinking.
Time goes by. Still strolling… still thinking.
Noticing the plants… flowers and shrubs… the sky above…
Drawn in more than one direction. Decision indecision.
Aim high? Aim low? Maybe somewhere in between?
No, not quite… No, not right… Oh, alright.
Going about each day, it is natural to take in what is immediately in front, ahead, or in the vicinity, while keeping stride from one minute to the next. It is often easiest to see or connect with what is received at eye level or perhaps sometimes what is above. Yet, oftentimes, what is of most value, and can be most helpful, can be found at a much lower height than one’s stature, position, or aspirations. Tempting though it may be, never mistake or forsake the importance of what happens, or what can be seen, at ground level, or below, at the roots. Remember, it is in the foundation of the soul—the heart—that Truth makes itself known, and then, the path that is best, is shown.
In Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream at night. God said: Whatever you ask I shall give you.
Solomon answered: “You have shown great kindness to your servant, David my father, because he walked before you with fidelity, justice, and an upright heart; and you have continued this great kindness toward him today, giving him a son to sit upon his throne.
Now, LORD, my God, you have made me, your servant, king to succeed David my father; but I am a mere youth, not knowing at all how to act—
I, your servant, among the people you have chosen, a people so vast that it cannot be numbered or counted.
Give your servant, therefore, a listening heart to judge your people and to distinguish between good and evil. For who is able to give judgment for this vast people of yours?”
The Lord was pleased by Solomon’s request.
So God said to him: Because you asked for this—you did not ask for a long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies—but you asked for discernment to know what is right—
I now do as you request. I give you a heart so wise and discerning that there has never been anyone like you until now, nor after you will there be anyone to equal you.
As a child, I recall being intrigued by wheat and its presence in many a family meal. I remember my mother soaking wheat in water for a period of time to allow it to expand some. Then, prior to adding it to the kibbeh or tabbouleh she was making, she would take a handful at a time and squeeze out the water. There was a process of patiently preparing, and then preparing some more. Then, there was the way in which the various ingredients were mixed together, complimenting each other while at the same time retaining their own taste and texture, and the wheat, always the source that brings it all together.
Earlier today I was reading about the lives of Cordy Tindell (C.T.) Vivian and John Lewis, famous civil rights activists, both who passed into eternal life yesterday at the age of 95 and 80 respectively. Over the span of their lives, they fought for justice and equality. They also suffered, sometimes greatly. However, they never gave up or gave in to the injustice that was all around them.
C.T. Vivian said, “Do what you can do and do it well, but always ask your question: Is it serving people?”
John Lewis said, “When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, you have to speak up. You have to say something; you have to do something.”
But here is the thing, they did not just say these things, they also lived them. Time and time again throughout their lives, C.T. Vivian and John Lewis, chose to look injustice square in the eye, call it what it is, and refuse to accept it. Despite facing violent opposition, they practiced and remained true to an approach of nonviolence.
How did they do it? How did they fight and persevere against the odds?
It’s all about the wheat.
C.T. Vivian, also a minister and an author, and John Lewis, also a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, exercised faith. They embraced the call and were held together by the Source, and they never, even in darkest moments, stood alone.
In life, it is impossible to stand alone. With faith, it is not necessary.
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, [then] I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me. – Revelation 3:20
HopeThatFloats 
You must be logged in to post a comment.