by Liz | Jul 21, 2008 | main
Some seasons are easy to enjoy – they are joyful segments of life. Others, not so much. And, the seasons don’t always line up one after the other. It seems they get all jumbled up. They overlap. Friends and family members might be experiencing different “seasons” all at the same time.
Now, just where did that jumble of thoughts come from? A few weeks ago, my niece got married. A season of joy and excitement. Family was be in town for the event. It was a lovely celebration at a lovely place. As I said – joy, happiness, looking forward.
At the same time, there were so many situations that felt like the wheels were falling off. One segment of the family didn’t make it because of illness and oral surgery. Another friend’s 15 year old son started intensive chemotherapy. Another friend had to go in for a transfusion – again. A season of distress, of uncertainty, of prayer.
All at the same time. Just as it always has been. In the midst of the pain and uncertainty there appears joy and hope. In the midst of joyful celebration, there will be upsets.
Sunday’s gospel included the parable of the farmer who sowed good seed. In the dark, the evil one sowed weeds. The farmer said not to go in and weed, because it was too difficult to be sure which were weeds and which plants were wheat until it came time for the harvest. Ah! That’s life everyday — wheat and weeds and it’s not always clear which is which.
It’s a relief, at least, that I don’t have to sort it out right now. It always happens that I would have gotten it wrong. How many times do I look back and realize that what seems so sad and wrong was the very thing that was required for later joy and hope? I’ll just have to leave the judgement about these things in the hands of the Lord.
Thank goodness!
by Liz | Jul 20, 2008 | main
I was just catching up on Creo en Dios! after vacation and the week of reentry. The most recent post, Inviting Jesus In, certainly caused a flashback for me. It brought me back to a penance service over 10 years ago. At the time, I felt a dead inside as I think is possible while still breathig and walking and trying to raise a family. As I sat there (with a priest who is a friend) I found I couldn’t even start to find words. All I could say was an odd phrase: “Lord, widen the parameters.” It was a way of saying “Yes” and opening a door. A way of trying to become open to the possibility that life could be different. A way of trying to get under the shell I had built to protect myself from feeling the pain (or joy) of my existence.
As Susan observes, once you make the call, there’s little if any chance of going back. Jesus is already on the way. It’s not too late after all. When I asked for that help, I should have asked for a way to help me hold on to my hat. I was aware in that space that there was a 3rd person. It felt like I could reach out and touch Jesus sitting there with us. Within 30 minutes of leaving the confessional, I have to say that my life took a hard right turn and it’s truly not been the same since.
That’s not to say it’s been easy. Or the walk as been straight and well lit. Or that I haven’t tried to close the door again more than once. I asked for God to open that Pandora’s Box, as it were, and have found that the gifts inside can be seen as both good and bad, and that God will walk with me as I seek to deal with each of them.
Jesus indeed told me – “Wake up, child.”
by Liz | Jul 5, 2008 | main
Late yesterday I took a stroll behind the cabin in Maine where we were spending the 4th of July with my husband’s family. “The wind in the willows” ran through my mind, until I had to go and give them their proper names…
The wind in the willows – except they’re not
They are birches and yellow woods and pines
There’s barely a sound beyond the cry of the loons
as the breeze ruffles the ferns, the birch leaves tremble
And a small spring meanders through the underbrush
Perhaps this is the still, quiet voice that Elijah heard
after the fire, after the earthquake, after the storm
Be still
know
I AM
God
by Liz | Jul 2, 2008 | main
My niece got married last Saturday. A moderate sized affair, with a judge doing the honors. Family all around. I don’t know where the idea came from, but the nicest touch was the roses. Two long stemmed roses, one tucked into the flowers at each side of the bride and groom. After the vows, they each took a rose, and exchanged them as their first gift to each other as husband and wife. They were then instructed to find a special place in their home for the roses. When words fail, the judge told them, place a rose in the special spot. The other is to accept the gift… and not demand the proper words.
This works for apologies and joys, I think. Sometimes the words just don’t happen, but you really need to let someone know. Let them know whatever. Kind of like a prayer without words. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m thrilled. I love you, but the words are doing it justice.
by Liz | Jun 28, 2008 | main
This moring I paused and reread/prayed this prayer than hangs in my kitchen (The traditional title is “17th Century Prayer”)
Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself than I am growing older & will someday be old.
Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.
Release me from craving to straighten out everyone’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody: helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pit not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; Give me wings to get to the point.
Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enouh to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint — some of them are so hard to live with — but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people.
And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so!
Amen.
by Liz | Jun 25, 2008 | main
Soul Music. World Music. Music of the Universe…
The opening measures of the cello repeat throughout the entire piece, like the eternal music of the soul. Deep, grounded, constant. And then the higher strings chime in and begin to move atop the solid foundation. They get lighter and more joyful until the notes are dancing and flying into the air.
This is music that induced a deep, meditative state in my. I can hear the cello anchoring me. Giving me rest. And from that deep place the other strings begin to vibrate. I feel the joy of being so grounded that I can dance and fly and laugh — all without fear. Anchored, and yet free to move and bloom.
How does that happen? The music is the most vivid image of Life in Christ to me. So grounded, so calm, so steady — It’s like the gospel from last Sunday: Be not afraid. I am with you. I will be there, eternal and loving. Go forth, and don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, good or bad, flat or sharp or right on key, I am here, under it all, constant but moving. Only fear that which can cut you off from this grounding, from your own soul. Now go forth to love and live and vibrate like the strings of the violin.
Soul music. World music. Music of the Universe…
