by Liz | Jun 16, 2008 | main
Susan told me I sounded mighty calm for having lost my cell phone on Saturday. Truth be told, I was very calm because I noticed it almost immediately and managed to talk to another of the shuttle bus drivers, who called another driver, who caught up with the driver who had my phone, who gave it to the next driver due to come to my location, who brought it to me. Whew! I must say, I felt like my guardian angel was working really hard on that one.
Guardian Angels – I love the image of a Guardian Angel, although I’m not sure I really believe in such a thing. And then again… Many years ago, I ran into a woman who had recently retired from the place we both worked. As we chatted, she talked about the pressures and difficulties of caring for her mother. Suddenly, I found I had reached out and given her a grand hug (this would not be a normal occurrence in this work place relationship). As I walked away, I had a real since of having been honored by being allowed to be an angel.
That sort of thing has occurred more than once in my life. Each time I feel honored.
Maybe an Angel, or even a Guardian Angel is in reality another person who is open to the movement of the Spirit and willing to be moved to action. Just as those bus drivers went out of their way to get my phone back, I pray that I am willing to go out of the way to be there when someone needs me. Sometimes it seems a bit scary and sometimes it seems a bother, but it always seems right to be the hands and feet of Christ when called.
by Liz | Jun 4, 2008 | main
I am often amazed at how life works out. Sometimes, it’s just that you know that a lot of pieces are coming together in a way that indicates that there is a higher power running the show. One example is how I came to be involved in FAMVIN through what seemed almost a chance meeting on the internet. FAMVIN didn’t even exist at that time, and now I’m in up to my eyeballs, and I met some of my best friends through the process. Who knew? (Well, I’m inclined to think Someone knew.)
Another might well be the circumstances that ended up in my leaving on parish and moving to another. I’ve written about that before when I tried to transcribe a witness talk I gave for an Ultreya meeting a few years ago. It was an occasion of losing my parish and finding my church.
And now I have a sense that it’s happening again. A young Ugandan priest who thought he would be going to Chicago this summer finds himself here in east Alabama. True, he’d like to raise some funds, but more importantly he shares himself, his dreams and his faith. He is on fire in a rather quiet, but intense way. He has a vision of way to try to help his country now and in the future. He realizes that he is here, in this place, for a reason and he gracefully and joyfully tries to understand this American culture and share his own. It’s even more amazing to me that a part of the way he got to this spot was an email contact with a young man in a nearby city who happens to be a good friend of my son-in-law.
So, I watch the Spirit breathe on us. I try to see what, if anything, I am called to do in response. This world is so much more than it seems on the surface and I’m looking forward to seeing what the future will bring. And I’ll keep Fr. Michael on my prayer list.
by Liz | May 26, 2008 | main
I wish I had recorded the homily Saturday night — I keep trying to review it and remember the wonder of the words. The feast of Corpus Christi – the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. A reflection on just what that means.
As I attempt to comprehend another “body” that I belong to comes to mind…
I am an Auburn grad. I left and came back to work at the University 24 years ago. One could see Auburn as the buildings, the grounds, the town. That’s not what the word means to me. It’s more than the physical plant. We are a body: those of us who are a part of “Auburn” share a piece of our lives with each other and with the whole. On TV, you see football (or baseball or maybe swimming). But that’s not quite it.
My mother used to observe that just saying the word “Auburn” would evoke a faraway look – that there was something special about the place.
We worked and/or studied together. We shared ourselves. We travel all over the world and when we see the telltale signs ( a ball cap or a logo on a t-shirt or a car tag) most of us look at each other and say “War Eagle!” We represent the school in all manner of things and we identify with it. We follow our sports teams. We represent the school in our work, our research and in our trying to convince new, young recruits to join us. We even have a creed. Look around the campus on a Saturday afternoon in the fall and you see folks gathered for tailgating – just to be in the same space with each other (there are far more tailgaters than game attendees – and that’s a lot of folks.)
And how does this relate to Corpus Christi? The Body of Christ is so much more than just the human who walked the earth – more than his bones and muscles and blood. That man is the linchpin, but he commanded us to “take and eat” – to join in this Life. One would never expect a University community to be willing to do anything it took, including death, to show its love for us. But he did. When we celebrate this Body and Blood, we remember that we are a part of his body, that we are his body for all the world to see. We are many parts. We have different gifts. We are a part of his body. Each of us important. We come to the table: caucasian, african, asian, latino (and any combination),wealthy, poor, healthy and infirm, academically gifted and not so great at school and we stand as equals. We know that he is with us and we join him. One can only hope that when we see each other in the world, and see the telltale signs, that we too are called to greet each other with “Peace!” and we are called to show this to the world so as to encourage new recruits to join us.
by Liz | May 12, 2008 | main
Several years ago I was helped along by a someone who carefully explained that in order to forgive, you must not forget – you must remember. I wonder why I should have a flare up of remembering on Pentecost… oh, yeah, it was Mother’s Day.
I finally, after nearly years am allowing myself to admit to how much something hurt. And realizing that it still hurts. And admitting that my response was to want to cause hurt in return. And realizing that it’s a recurring hurt. And I’m tired of it. To get beyond, I’ve been trying to sit with it and decide to change my response. Not as easy as I thought.
I sit with the hurt. I invite Jesus to sit with me. I ask for the grace to not bury it but pull it out into the light. This is a matter that I shoved aside because it seemed so petty to dwell on. I buried it. And now it rears its ugly little (well, not so little anymore) head and hisses at me. I think of my misuse of a good commandment: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I took that commandment, and I said: “OK – so this is how you respond to me. That must be how you want to be treated.” Not so good, it turns out. It seems better to do something positive — to do what I would have wanted done for me. To do something for another person that I would want them to do for me.
I’m not finished yet. I can see that I’m going to have to go and sit with Jesus and go over it a few more times before I can let go. Until I can remember without the acid rising. Until I can treat the other with love. Until I forgive.
This has been quite a journey to get to the place where I can actually pull these things out, sit with them and decide to forgive. It seems that first I had to accept not only that I hurt, but also that I returned the hurt. I have to let some of the shell break away and quite trying so hard to protect myself. Admit that there are a lot of chinks in the armor, and that the armor needs to be removed. And accept that I am safe in the Lord — and that I am loved.
I suspect that this doesn’t make a lot of sense to anyone reading it. But, it certainly makes sense to me. This is a personal Pentecost: The Spirit comes and I hear the Gospel proclaimed in words that I understand.
Come Spirit, Come!
by Liz | Jan 20, 2005 | main
I think I might just sing the refrain differently if I don’t watch it:
And She will raise you up on eagle’s wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of Her hand.
I’ve been listening to “On the Wing” on the Radio Reader for a couple of weeks. One observation that the author/narrator makes is that in the bird world the females are often larger and stronger than the males. The particular birds he was referring to are Peregrin Falcons, and he goes on to observe that the females fly slightly later than their brothers — probably because they have more growing to do than the males. So, why wouldn’t those eagle’s wings be Hers? And, perhaps the slowness in realizing my full potential is because I have more growing to do to get there.
