by Liz | Apr 17, 2008 | main
I learned to say this as a child I was baffled. If the Lord is my shepherd and He does all these wonderful things, why do I not want Him? If finally asked about this and of course was informed that I was misunderstanding the words – of course it’s not the Lord you don’t want – it’s that you won’t want anything else. Huh!
And most of the time this is true — if I turn to the Lord, I have what I need and want. But there are days when I become sinner extraordinaire. It seems that my original interpretation might be more accurate. The Lord is my shepherd but I’d really rather be left alone. Then I get into real trouble.
Not sure where I’m going with this, but it helps to reflect on the times when I want to be left alone. It also calls to mind some of the gospel message for this week. Jesus tells us that He came not to condemn us but to be Light for us. And basically it seems we convict ourselves.
Lord, help me to walk in Your Light and help me to be without want instead of not wanting You.
by Liz | Apr 15, 2008 | main
The past couple of days, I’ve been rather in a desert when I think of writing. Oh, I’ve done some technical writing because I have a lot of that to work through, but in the interior landscape, it seems to be a desert.
Which reminds me of a retreat weekend some 8 years ago – it was supposed to be a “Desert Retreat” – but due to a typo it became a “Dessert Retreat.” And as it is with these sorts of things, while the Desert theme was carried through, we had a grand time teasing the person who added the extra “s” and harassed him about not bringing enough desserts.
I remember that retreat quite vividly. We were led through The Cloud of Unknowing. We were presented with Julian of Norwich and “All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” Good concepts to ponder that weekend as it turned out. When I returned home on Sunday morning atthe end of the retreat I found that my house had burned – not quite to the ground, but in a way that might not have been any worse.
All shall be well. Nobody was injured in the fire. Even the cats escaped the house.
All shall be well. I discovered that most of what was lost was “just stuff.” And, the closets were cleaned out without the pain of making a choice.
All shall be well. We survived it.
All shall be well. There are still times now when I am aware that there may still be people to be forgiven — or people who need to understand that they are forgiven. But, it will come to pass, I am sure
All shall be well. Many months later, after we were back in the “new” house, my neighbor across the street brought me a gift: a package of very nice fat-quarters (fabric for quilting). I had lost my entire fabric stash in the fire. We both stood in the street and cried. I’ve not gotten back into quilting in the last 8 years — I think something broke inside me — but the gift touched me so deeply.
All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.
by Liz | Apr 14, 2008 | main
I could go off on a lot of tangents this morning, but the gospel is pulling me back to shepherd images. When I was a teenager, someone gave me the following (I don’t know the author – does anyone else have a clue?)
Shepherd, shall I tend your sheep?
I with scant shepherd’s skill?
But I see them weep and weep.
And if I do not go who will?
They don’t belong to me
And I’m not sure where the sheepfold is.
But as I look around I see
In a world that is not mine but His
None to go save such as I
So when in the dark I heard them cry
There’s only one thing left do
Look for Your light to lead them to.
I must have been meant to remember those words as that was probably the first thing I every set to music. I sat one afternoon with my guitar and learned the song that played in my head. And now , nearly 4 decades later the words are still clear in my head. Of course I sing it to myself when I try to type it out as the words and melody are now intertwined.
With all the publicity about the Pope’s visit to the US I am bombarded with words and images of Benedict as the [Supreme] Shepherd. We must remember that only Jesus is the Shepherd, and we (including the entire hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church) are the much more like the voice in this Shepherd Song: Looking for the Light to lead them to. May the Pope know the Shepherd’s voice, and may the Light shine brightly for him.
by Liz | Apr 13, 2008 | main
Last night my laptop got so confused. It couldn’t use its backup disk – I could point it to the backup, and mount the drive, and look at the files, but the poor little MacBookPro just couldn’t seem to understand. Finally, I had to reboot, let it forget some stuff and start over again. Then everything worked beautifully once more.
That’s rather like my relationship with God. I read articles, I follow blogs, I go to retreat days, I deal with people around me, things go good or bad with work or church or family. I get so many ideas going that they can get twisted up and very confusing.
Reboot.
Get quiet and let go of all of these things. Go back to the basics: go back to the relationship and start at the beginning, start at the heart. Listen to the words of Jesus in the scriptures. Listen to the prophets and the stories. Sit with the Lord and just be in the presence of God. Then and only then will the other stuff sort itself out and begin to make sense and begin to work properly once more.
The OS on a computer is like the foundation of faith. It relies on the hardware, but it controls the way that the hardware is used and what is can and will do. There are times when patches must be applied to correct some ways it works, or protect from evil entrusions. And very often, these patches won’t really take effect until the machine is rebooted – restarted clean.
When I have to reboot it’s a clean start with the basic assumptions in place. It might happen after reconciliation: wipe things clean, reload, restart with a cleared cache. It might happen just in prayer by myself. Or it might happen just after a great insight (there we go – patch the system and reboot).
This morning I had to reboot. Alleluia!
by Liz | Jan 31, 2005 | main
When I set this site up, JF sent me the quote “Traveller, there is no road. It is made by walking.” A bit of wisdom from a member of the International Association of Charity. This seems to converge with a story I heard once that shed light on the proclamation of Jesus – “I am the Way.”
It seems a soldier was downed somewhere in SE Asia during one of the recent conflicts (can’t call them wars, you know.) He was rather desperate, being lost in the thick jungle where it was nearly impossible to determine friend or foe. A local villager appeared and said “Follow me. I’ll lead you out – to safety.”
“You’ll show me the road?” asked the soldier.
“There is no road. You have to follow me, I am the way you get out.”
That seems to be what I am bumping up against repeatedly. There is no syllabus, there is no paved road, not even a pig trail. So, I follow the leading of God/Goddess/Jesus/Spirit. And my! what an adventure.
I’ve seen signposts as we walk:
- the need within myself to image (not imagine) God as the Feminine Divine and learn to appreciate the very fact of my being: I am female, and created in the image of God. The need to recognize that this is not to become an exclusive view.
- Just as I venture into the Feminine I am confronted with truth that comes from the traditional male-centric Catholic faith. I had the first real talk I’ve ever had with the pastor at St. Michael’s and discovered someone I could talk to.
- friend or foe is still difficult to determine. Some people I expect to be “friend” come back to me as non-comprehending impediments. Some that I suspect to be “foe” turn out to share an understanding and an openess to discussing some ideas.
Go figure.
