Communion

The Hardest Part…

Feeling hopeful, I am lifted up by the soothing breeze, and welcomed by the warmth of the sun. I am drawn to the light stretching out from it, as if reaching out to everyone and all around the globe. Still, I wait, as many do. So much of life these days seems to be more about waiting, and then waiting even more. I can’t help but think, this much waiting is such a tall order, compared to the short and quick of yesteryear.

Yet, day in and day out, I wait. We all wait. Maybe we’ve been waiting all along. Maybe we wait because we’ve gotten it all wrong.

Then there’s also the companion of waiting. As each moment in waiting silently builds upon the next, some grow closer together and others drift further apart. Yet, despite the weight of waiting, and the rush against the quiet, when willing, the Light above connects us to the Breath that’s deep within.

One with one another. Created in God’s image. One with one and all. The cry of God is deafening, when will we heed the call?

“Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.” – John 15:4

Act Naturally…

John Muir shared the thought that in every walk with nature, one receives far more than one seeks. Pausing to look at some of the changing leaves and noticing the contrast between them and those already on the ground, I came across another scene. A chipmunk, also pausing, long enough to possibly be considered a companion in an otherwise seemingly empty stretch of woods. A brief, but amusing and uplifting experience, perhaps captured best, for both creatures on this day, in the words of another naturalist, Henry David Thoreau, who wrote, “I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.”   

Reading chapter 22 in the Gospel according to Matthew, the section that contains verses 15-22 starts with, “Then the Pharisees went off and plotted…” The words and the image they conjure, are such a stark contrast to that of my experience in nature, earlier in the day. What a difference a spirit of inclusion, acceptance, respect, and mutual existence might have made back then. What a difference it might make now.

Nature is all around us, and we are part of it. Yet, all this time gone by, still, we fight it. All these years later, still, we resist joining together. Perhaps, one by one, we might learn to be companions to each other, and the plotting will end. Then, maybe… we might see, how foolish we have been.

If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence, we could rise up rooted like trees.
– Rainer Maria Rilke

The Pharisees went off
and plotted how they might entrap Jesus in speech.
They sent their disciples to him, with the Herodians, saying,
“Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man
and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth.
And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion,
for you do not regard a person’s status.
Tell us, then, what is your opinion:
Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?”
Knowing their malice, Jesus said,
“Why are you testing me, you hypocrites?
Show me the coin that pays the census tax.”
Then they handed him the Roman coin.
He said to them, “Whose image is this and whose inscription?”
They replied, “Caesar’s.”
At that he said to them,
“Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar
and to God what belongs to God.” – Matthew 22:15-22

Musical inspiration: The King of Love My Shepherd Is

In the Palm of Our Hands…

Yesterday morning, I was thinking about how up until a few weeks ago, it had been quite some time since I found myself in a position where it was mostly better and necessary for me to stay home than to go out. I found myself remembering days when my children were not in school yet, or days when they were unexpectedly home from school. There was one day in particular that came to mind. I remember it so vividly.

It was a sunny, slightly breezy spring day. I was noticing the color of the sky and feeling the warmth of the sun and the gentle blowing of the wind on my face as I walked along the walkway toward the parking lot where my car was parked. I had just come around the side of a building, and as I did, I saw a familiar face. We exchanged a smile and greeting, and then had a brief conversation.

In the course of sharing how nice it was to start the day, quietly, being where we were, I mentioned feeling frustrated that sometimes, due to the unforeseen and unexpected, I could not be there. Then, I’ll never forget the way, Joe, the older gentleman I was speaking with responded. His words were so comforting and enlightening as he shared the belief that in the sacrifice of Communion to answer the call of motherhood, or any call in the service of others, was in fact, also the reception of Communion. Since that bright and sunny day, not being able to go somewhere I wanted to go or do something I wanted to do has been less frustrating. Now, as I think about my late friend’s words, it is so much easier to open my hands, and let go.

All we ever really hold in the palm of our hands, is our will. And that, is always best when we turn it over to God. Only then, are we truly free. Only then, do we arise.

Jesus advanced a little and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.” – Matthew 26:39

InThePalm

Little Things With Great Love

In the garden of our Savior, no flower grows unseen;
His kindness rains like water on every humble seed.
No simple act of mercy escapes His watchful eye —
for there is One who loves me: His hand is over mine.

In the kingdom of the heavens, no suff’ring is unknown;
each tear that falls is holy, each breaking heart a throne.
There is a song of beauty on ev’ry weeping eye —
for there is One who loves me: His heart, it breaks with mine.

Oh, the deeds forgotten; oh, the works unseen,
every drink of water flowing graciously,
every tender mercy, You’re making glorious.
This You have asked us: do little things with great love,
little things with great love.

At the table of our Savior, no mouth will go unfed;
His children in the shadows stream in and raise their heads.
Oh give us ears to hear them and give us eyes that see —
for there is One who loves them: I am His hands and feet.

By Audrey Assad, Isaac Wardell, and Madison Cunningham
© 2017 Porter’s Gate Publishing (BMI) and Hymns From the Porter’s Gate (ASCAP). All rights reserved and administered by Fair Trade Music Publishing c/o essentialmusicpublishing.com.

Coming Up Hearts…

Over the past few days, gusts of wind have relieved the trees of so many of their leaves. Yet there remains a branch, looking more like a vine, swaying in the wind, holding tight onto its leaves. While the branch seems unremarkable, lacking in the kind of color that captures one’s eye, the leaves are yellow, bringing brightness and light to an otherwise dreary backdrop.

As the wind carries on, and various other leaves fall from the trees, blown every which way, the branch and its yellow leaves remain together. No matter how hard the wind seems to try to strip them away, or apart from each other, through periods of rain and strong winds, it is not happening. They seem determined to stick together as they weather the storm, perhaps just as they did before it arrived. It is as if this branch and its heart-shaped leaves are thoroughly convinced and committed to one another, regardless of all that is, and has been, swirling around them, knowing that, come what may, Love that is true always prevails.

Hanging

Before the Lord the whole universe is as a grain from a balance
or a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth.
But you have mercy on all, because you can do all things;
and you overlook people’s sins that they may repent.
For you love all things that are
and loathe nothing that you have made;
for what you hated, you would not have fashioned.
And how could a thing remain, unless you willed it;
or be preserved, had it not been called forth by you?
But you spare all things, because they are yours,
O Lord and lover of souls,
for your imperishable spirit is in all things!
Therefore you rebuke offenders little by little,
warn them and remind them of the sins they are committing,
that they may abandon their wickedness and believe in you, O Lord!

– Wisdom 11:22-12:2

On the Edge, Greatness…

At the beginning of the week, as I looked out the window and scanned the back yard, I spotted a doe, yes, “a dear, a female deer,” at the edge of the grass path that leads to the woods. Although tempted to step away to get my camera to try to capture the moment, instead I stayed and watched. For quite some time the doe just stood there in its peaceful, patient way, nibbling at the leaves of a branch. Every so often it lifted its head to glance all around, surveying and taking in the environment with its big, beautiful, pensive eyes. Then, in what seemed like a flash, it was gone, heading off deeper into the woods.

Thinking about this experience, I am struck by the faith that is needed to go into, or to return to, the wilderness. Yet, it is this very same faith that calls creation to the place that is less familiar, less comfortable, or perhaps altogether unknown. Even more, it is the same faith that assures us, moving us toward peace and patience, and helping us to know, we are never alone.

True faith awakens and arises us, calling us closer to the edge, and whispering: Come. Come deeper into the mystery that is God.

In Every Age – by Janet Sullivan Whitaker

Long before the mountains came to be
and the land and sea and stars of the night,
through the endless seasons of all time,
you have always been,
you will always be.

In ev’ry age, O God,
you have been our refuge.
In ev’ry age, O God,
you have been our hope.

Teach us to make use of the time we have.
Teach us to be patient even as we wait.
Teach us to embrace our ev’ry joy and pain.
To sleep peacefully,
and to rise up strong.

In ev’ry age, O God,
you have been our refuge.
In ev’ry age, O God,
you have been our hope.

You have been our refuge
You have been our hope.

OnTheEdgeGreatness