by Liz | Nov 29, 2010 | main
Today is Madeleine L’Engle’s birthday. I read “A Wrinkle in Time” in the 5th grade and never forgot this author. Apparently, this most wonderful of books was turned down by 26 different publishers before it was finally published and won a Newberry Award. For me — I am so glad that publisher number 27 took a chance.
A few years ago I discovered that Madeleine L’Engle wrote more than “A Wrinkle in Time.” I went on a journey through her writings and found not only more children’s / juvenile fiction (which I read as and adult I found out about them), but I also discovered her other side — a deeply spiritual person. Who knew that the author of “A Wrinkle in Time” and it’s sequels, “A Wind at the Door” and “A Swiftly Tilting Planet” could communicate so profoundly about a time in her own life as she transistioned from wife to widow?
Anyway, I’ll pick up my copy of “Glimpses of Grace: Daily Thoughts and Reflections” and celebrate her birthday today.
Books by Madeleine L’Engle (found on Amazon)
by Liz | Jul 7, 2010 | main
We’ve been travelling and taking advantage of the XM radio available in my car by listening to XM 6 — which is all 60’s music.
I was a preteen and young teenage in the 60’s — I was a bit young to take off for Woodstock, but not too young to revel in it. The first song I learned to play on a stringed instrument was “Charlie and the MTA” by the Kingston Trio. I loved (and still do) Peter, Paul and Mary, the Beatles, the Monkees, Buffalo Springfield, Donovan…
As I listened all the way up the interstate I was struck by a certain innocence in the revolution of the 60’s. There was conflict. There was an outright throwing over of the values of the previous generation. But, as misguided as parts of that revolution might have turned out, there was a real optimism. There seemed to be a real belief that there truly is a new world to be experienced.
I sat and sank into the Seekers singing “I’ll Never Find Another You”
There’s a new world somewhere
They call The Promised Land
And I’ll be there some day
If you will hold my hand
I still need you there beside me
No matter what I do
For I know I’ll never find another you
There is a sense of hope that I find missing today. It seems that if there is a revolution today, it smacks more of the Taliban and rules and negative results. This generation is faced with the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, multiple wars (instead of just Viet Nam) and they don’t appear to be nearly as optimistic that these obstacles can be creatively overcome.
To have hope, it seems that one needs to believe that there is a Promised Land and someone to hold on to on the journey to that Promised Land. There is a need to believe that the Promised Land can be here and now or is here and now and can impact us on our Journey. There is a need to understand that the most important component of the journey is not the material treasure, but the love of the the Companion (in my case, the love of Jesus who takes my hand and is The Way).
I hope that some of the optimism of the 60’s will invade the current generation and lead them to joy.
by Liz | Mar 29, 2010 | main
Almost all gospel stories can call me to reflect on who I might be in the picture. Yesterday’s accounting of the crucifiction of Jesus from the Gospel of Luke causes me to wonder which thief I would have been: the wise, repentant one who accepted himself and asked “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” or the the self-serving, angry one who didn’t accept his own failings and tried to get Jesus to save himself and save them as well? I’d really like to think I’m the one who came to his senses. I fear I am the one who just wanted another way out. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m not Jesus in the center, giving everything for Love.
Walking through Holy Week, I’ll be pondering this idea. I come closer to grasping the gospel value of being servant and seeking the best for others. But, this pain thing, is hard. Granted, I delivered 3 children without the benefits of anesthesia – and did so by choice. But, the first time that choice was informed as much by a fear of the needle required for an epidural as much as the desire to feel, and live the process fully and to give my child the best start possible. For the other 2, I had discovered I could do it! And live! And recover quite nicely. Perhaps I can learn to face this idea of pain more openly after all. Then I can allow myself to see me as clearly as God sees me. And who knows where that can lead me?
De Colores!
by Liz | Oct 17, 2009 | main
I’ve been sitting with Susan’s post over on Creo en Dios — and considering how her words adapt to my reality. We come to this place from different roads. She was a cradle Catholic who left God and the Catholic Church, and returned. I started life in a Calvinist protestant environment (Presbyterian/Southern Baptist), made a choice in my teens to actually be a Christian, and by some twist of faith found my home the the Catholic Church.
I’m not so good at words as Susan but I get some feeling that we are trying to somehow explain similar feelings about this whole Catholic issue. The Church is Home. It is at some level Family. I disagree with many statements that come from Rome and USCCB. I cringe at many behaviors exhibited by those entrusted with the care and feeding of the members (I mean “care and feeding” in both physical and spiritual terms); I get ready to pack my bags and make my exit.
And then I stop.
“Where are you going?”
“Away!”
“Away to what?”
“Just away! Where I don’t have to put up with this hypocritical stupidity and corruption!”
“And where is that?”
At this point, I pause again. I cannot go. I came to this church primarily because of a certainty that the Mass, the Eurcharist, holds a lot more in it than my upbringing allows it to hold. That idea was both attractive and frightening.And it called me to “come” – not “go.” I have experienced the touch of God in Reconciliation.
And so, I stay. This is my home and family, warts and all. Not perfect. Sometimes grand, sometimes downright pathetic. There are many times I have to look beyond the visible manifestations of this Church and find the heart of it. I, like Susan, cannot for sure always say that I “need” to be Catholic, and for many of the same reasons. But, I am.
by Liz | Sep 21, 2009 | main
Tonight is one of those where my mind doesn’t seem to want to shut down… I’m pondering many things, for no know reason.
It’s one of those nights when I consider my faith – what it is and what it is not. I wonder at why I believe at all. I wonder what I believe. It’s such a mystery.
Do I believe that Jesus died for me? Well… yes, I think so. But, it’s not a powerful, overwhelming thing. I know that my life is richer, fuller and just generally more livable because I accept to some degree that God love me for who and what I am — warts and all.
Do I believe that Mary had only one child? Maybe, maybe not. The devout and conservative members of my Church probably would not be pleased to hear that. But, really – it just doesn’t matter to me. That she said “yes” to becoming the mother of Jesus – that she said “yes” to those things that God asked of her – that matters. Whether or not she had other children ad even whether or not the Holy Spirit was assisted by Joseph matters not to me.
Tonight is a night where I wonder why I claim to be Catholic – or even Christian at all. And does it matter? This is not a great distressed cry. It’s more of an introspective look at myself and the world/universe around me. I come up with some interesting answers. Yes, I am a Christian — not because of the words of the Bible so much as the Word of God — shared with me by my brothers and sisters who also walk this way of life. The Scriptures are the witness of those who came before us. But what touches me more deeply are the words of John, Susan, Jack, Manda, Sandra, Rosie, Frances, Marty… the list goes on. The works of those around me touch me. And I know that there is more here than meets the physical eye.
I could go on and on and on — I believe that I must practice forgiveness. It’s hard to do, but it certainly makes life a lot easier in the long run. I believe that my vocation is to love, not be judge and jury. That leaves me free to really enjoy folks for who they are. That gives me the space to take the not-so-great parts along with the wonderful parts. That let’s me laugh at myself and with my friends.
And, on this restless night, I find I must remember that God has tried to answer two of my long standing prayers: I have long prayed for gentleness of spirit and to be able to “be” instead simply doing. Occasionally, I actually experience these states of being. And they are good.
And so, I shall get myself a drink of water. I shall sit quietly and make my peace with the day that has gone by. And, I will praise the Lord that I was created with the freedom to question all things.
‘night.
