mysteries within reach

the beauty of things spent

open hands spilling grace



angels hidden for a season reveal themselves in winters dying back



once hidden in the dark - unfolding now

graceful reaching for the light

generosity

tender sprouts ready for deeper planting

bearing fruit to the end

waiting

holding on

letting go



 unexpected places of growth

tenderness

gifts that linger



hidden self

emerging life - what a little light can do

Modern Magi

“If I could put it simply, I would say that I believe that there’s a force of love and logic behind the universe.  This is overwhelming to start with, if you believe it. But the idea that that same love and logic would choose to introduce itself as a baby born in shit and straw and poverty is the poetic genius of a creator I can believe in. Christ makes sense to me, and brings me to my knees, literally.” Bono

Written on Christmas Eve, 1513

I salute you. I am your friend, and my love for you goes deep.
There is nothing I can give you which you have not. But there is much,
very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can
come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take heaven!
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant.
Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within
our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in darkness, could we but see.
And to see, we have only to look. I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver. But we, judging its gifts by their covering,
cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you
will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love by wisdom, with power.
Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you.
Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there.
The gift is there and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Your joys, too,
be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty beneath its covering,
that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it; that is all!
But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together,
wending through unknown country home.

And so, at this time, I greet you, not quite as the world sends greetings,
but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and
forever, the day breaks and shadows flee away.

~ Fra Giovanni Giocondo OFM~

O Christmas Tree

One of our family traditions has been to give our
children a new ornament each advent for the Christmas tree,
with the thought that they would receive their collection
for their first christmas in their own homes.
Last year I gave those ornaments to them for their own trees
(having arrived at 30 something each I had come to the slow conclusion
that it was time).
Of course 7 year old continues the tradition with her yearly ornament
but the tree this year has been transformed in that one gesture from having its
branches overladen to branches very simply adorned.
Those ornaments were not just sparkly things, but years of memories,
carefully chosen to represent each child, their likes and desires, as they grew.
There were foxes and ballerinas, mice in wagons and angels small,
snowmen and St. Nicholas’, and children (3 of a kind)
which inevitably caused them to quickly converge to sort out who’s who!
Their delighted childhood laughter echoes in my memory
as 7 year old opens hers from the advent house
and squeals with pleasure, dancing away until it breaks in her hands...
we gather up the beads that scattered on the floor and
re-thread a skinny snowman arm, a dab of glue and a days rest
working its magic until evening comes. Ready to decorate the tree,
we open the dusty boxes and search
for the little baby Jesus on his red cushion,
first ornament always, laid in the cross of her branches,
and then she gets her funny snowman, places it on the tree –
puts her arm around me as we savor the moment.

We spend the evening unwrapping ornaments

and placing them on the tree, Christmas carols playing

until at last the paper angel is placed on top and we step back

again to check our handiwork.  It's then

that those simple branches tug at me, tap right into my

heart - and it is precisely that moment when

quietly 7 year old shares her secret with me,

"It's a beautiful tree...I think if we put on anything more

no one could really see the tree, it would be lost."  

I just stood there, felt the warmth of her hand on my back,

evergreen.

Glimpses into a Colorado Thanksgiving

Oh Heavenly Day

Resting in Peace

From moment to moment I remember with astonishment that I am at the same time empty and full, and satisfied because I am empty. I lack nothing. The Lord rules me.
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, p. 43.

Last night I had a Waking Ned Devine moment - As Jackie says in that great film, "The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself."  It was quite an experience all around, as my dearest friends and fellow workers were all 'appreciated' for their ministry.  Lots of funny moments, kind words heaped upon kind words, feasting in such good company.  One by one each was recognized and stories told of Gods work accomplished through them.   I knew the good of each testimony, and the gratitude for such companions on the way was deeply felt and humbling.  Even so, I sat a bit pensive when my name was called.  After a few introductory remarks the speaker began naming some of the areas of ministry I serve, and asking those whose lives had been touched by each to please stand.  Slowly around me grew a living forest, mature and mighty, firmly planted and glorious to behold.    There I sat, small in their presence rising over me, a canopy of grace covering me - beautiful humanity - work of His hands. 
As Msgr. leaned over the table laughing, and said to me "And you're not even dead yet!"

lost and found

Worn out
Head aches - heart aches
everything my eye lands on
seems too monumental to start
I find my sweats
flip flops
head out
end up on the sand
walking along the rocks
dashing it all on the rock
breathing in the salt air
soaking in the sun on my back
cold water wakening shivers of delight
until I am salty
and warm
and wet
at sea with God
who knew where he was leading me
who ever knows
I found this and took it home

Then I remembered this
(ee of course) and smiled

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

As I get older

No, no, there is no going back.
...Now more than ever
you can be generous toward each day
that comes, young, to disappear forever,
and yet remain unaging in the mind.
Every day you have less reason
not to give yourself away.

~ Wendell Berry ~ Sabbath Poems

Home Remedy

7 year old is sick.
Fever and cheeks bright red.
She sleeps, wakes briefly,
sleeps some more.
She has no appetite -
she who is full of hunger
and growth spurts,
activity and noise,
sips water obediently
silently
and droops back on her pillow.
It is raining and my big plans for the day
have been cancelled.
When she awakens I rub her back,
cool cloth on the forehead,
stay close
where she likes me to be.
I sneak out when she dozes,
a quiet moment
pick up a book
but I’m thinking of her
poor child sick in bed
wanting only one thing
not a snack
not a movie
not wanting to play
no blanket or stuffed toy
not wanting anything
but me, close by
within reach
earshot
my hand on her back,
play with her hair as my mom did to me
the comforts of home,
not what but who
this hospital of charity
the ‘hospitable’ relationship between host and guest
one that hosts
one that guests
we take our turns
in this house,
caring and being cared for
guest and host
we give and we receive
only one thing is needed for either,
room.

And the walls come tumbling down

Our house is under construction
and the metaphors in my mind keep running wild;
there is a lot of tearing down of old walls-
which makes quite a mess at first,
no matter how much you try to keep it contained;
splintered wood, chunks of plaster,
nails aimed straight at your tenderfoot.
It's noisy too - you can't hear yourself think!
Then there's the clean up,
carefully avoiding getting hurt in the process,
tough gloves on,
lifting the heavy load and hauling it out,
I still stumble, husband needs a bandaid.
We are helped by one another.
Alone in this new place I lift the broom and do a final sweep
and it's then I pause;
such expanse of space,
light where there was little,
visions of what is possible.
I love this tearing down of walls.

Happy Harvest Time

Property Values

The owner of a small business, a friend of the poet Olavo Bilac,
met him on the street and asked him:

“Mr. Bilac, I need to sell my small farm, the one you know so well.
Could you please write an announcement for me for the paper?”

Bilac wrote: “FOR SALE, A BEAUTIFUL PROPERTY, WHERE BIRDS SING AT DAWN IN EXTENSIVE WOODLAND, BI-SECTED BY THE BRILLIANT AND SPARKLING WATERS OF A LARGE STREAM. THE HOUSE IS BATHED BY THE RISING SUN. IT OFFERS TRANQUIL SHADE IN THE EVENINGS ON THE VERANDA.

Some time later, the poet met his friend and asked whether he had sold the property,
to which he replied: I’ve changed my mind. When I read what you had written,
I realized the treasure that was mine.

A small token

Encouragement comes in many forms,

words, surely

fine and mighty

a softly spoken thank you

a word that lands on your heart.

but sounds too

laughter

resting an ear to his heartbeat

a proper sigh.

and the eyes drink in encouragement

in a crinkled smile

the knowing look in the eye

seeing joy unawares.

and how about touch

the hand on my shoulder as I crawl back into bed

7 year olds back leaning into my front as we sit a moment,

just there

the wind in my hair.

and then there's song

why music is on this blog

why church requires singing

and why you should mute me now and listen to this

and after

let the silent stillness 

and the happy tune it carries

encourage you.

I recently came across a new term describing a pattern
that the author claimed was often found in Christianity.
The Christian Atheist.
What the author defined as
Believing in God but living as if he doesn't exist.
It's nothing new to humankind...
failing to live up to what we believe.
We do this in life, believe in say, exercise.
A good brisk walk for 20 minutes to relieve stress,
tone and strengthen the body,
clear the mind; but not living it,
preferring to put our feet up and enjoy a glass of wine and the pause it offers.
I have often considered and taught about the difference
in what we believe vs what we value.
I believe in the walk but I value the relief
of that quiet pause, and so that is what I do!
Yet I need that walk!
And when I do head out the door and down the road it feels great!
But I do not want to write about exercise today...
about want or need,
or even about failure. 
Though I do like Edison's perspective;
"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

No, I am thinking about that new term - Christian Atheist.
I'm not buying it.
There's room for doubt in belief.
Yes, even room for failure.
We are a people on the way...pilgrims
We call it conversion. 
It is the work of God's Spirit in us.

Remember this? Mark 9:24 - from The message
The father cried to Jesus, "If you can do anything, do it. Have a heart and help us!"
Jesus said, "If? There are no 'ifs' among believers. Anything can happen."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the father cried,
"Then I believe. Help me with my doubts!"

I am hearing Tom Hanks There's no crying in baseball!
Picturing Tom in the role of Jesus There are no if's among believers!

I am blessed, as a friend recently wrote me, to spend my life giving away God's love.
Living what I believe about God's love and life in us
is the constant touch point in my living the mystery we call Life in Christ;
it's consideration at each days end shaping and reshaping my walk with Him.
It is my work, also, and yet, truth be told,
it is more about God's work on me and in me, and on occasion, through me.
I clearly needed more attention than most from my creator,
and so He has kept me close,
that I might have regular lessons on His grace.
Kept my feet planted on the hidden ground of love.
As Thomas Merton once wrote, reminding us what scripture reveals,
Spiritual work is done with disproportionately small and feeble instruments..,
Yet even kept close it is easy to lose sight.
Thank the Lord I am surrounded by prompts revealing the face of love,
or at least the occasional mud in the eye that opens  my sight or hearing.
I once read "God is like a person hiding,
who clears his throat, so to give himself away."
and "Love and a cough cannot be concealed"
and this is how I often enough stumble upon divine encounters with Love.
But how about you, how do you stay close
so that you can live what you believe?
How do you wrestle with and live out the questions?
And what is church to you?
Where is Your Fathers House?
And what life and love,
what joy or consolation,
what goodness and truth have you found there,
not only in the rhythmic cycles of the church's community life
but in the rhythmic cycles of life's communion?

This is your invitation to bear witness to love.
Go ahead, post a comment...

Penciled In

We are up and out early all week as we help Kate whose car is in the shop get to college. This early out affords me and 7 year old time alone before school, ready with nothing to do but watch the sun rise as we head out, enjoy a drive-thru breakfast treat of yogurt and hash browns, and linger in one another’s company. We are in the empty parish parking lot, sitting in the car, content in this quiet.  7 year old is looking at my appointment book - reading what fills my days. But when she gets to Saturday nothing is there - Oh, I say - you can write in Dance class - that’s the morning we go to Irish Dance. No, she says, it’s not dance day, it’s our day, me and you. She pencils in a big heart.  The next Saturday gets a collywobbles ‘love bug’, then 3 hearts for the 3 of us God has knit into a family. A picture like that speaks a thousand words, and I hear them daily calling me home.

Lord of the Dance

Think of the magic of the foot, comparatively small,
upon which your whole weight rests. It's a miracle,
and the dance is a celebration of that miracle. - Martha Graham

7 year old has been taking Irish dance since she was a wee lass -
our motive simply joy - to dance!
For a life that celebrates, for lively family gatherings;
for a spirit that rejoices,  and a body
that can express what words can only intimate.
To empower her to move through the happiest
and the saddest parts of life
with a heart lightened by the lift and lilt of the celts.
This weekend was her first feis - with hundreds of dancers
working out their nerves in the back of the room,
parents anxiously waiting and watching,
fussing (who knew about sock glue?)
and photographing.
I sat in the front on the floor,
amazed at her composure, and took it all in. 

She placed in the reel and light jig, excited to get a medal for each.

It was when I saw the medals that this alone came rushing to my heart...

Christ at the center of it all.

and while I've no doubt there will be other competitions,

the real gift of dance is already there,

May our eyes remain fixed on that prize!

I danced in the morning when the world was begun

I danced in the Moon & the Stars & the Sun
I came down from Heaven & I danced on Earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth:
Dance then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He!
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said He!
I danced for the scribe & the pharisee
But they would not dance & they wouldn't follow me
I danced for fishermen, for James & John
They came with me & the Dance went on:
I danced on the Sabbath & I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame!
They whipped & they stripped & they hung me high
And they left me there on a cross to die!
I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black
It's hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body & they thought I'd gone
But I am the Dance & I still go on!
They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the Life that'll never, never die!
I'll live in you if you'll live in Me -
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He!

Happy Anniversary

We just celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary,
feasting around the kitchen table with our 7 year old
at the end of her first day in 2nd grade,
celebrating with candles and right out-of-the-oven
crisp/soft bread (our own personal heaven),
scampi and fresh lemons, a bottle of wine & a slice of cake from C & L.
After dinner, we played 'give us a clue-what does it do'?
laughing in the living room when Papa gives us this clue;
He makes you happy!
7 year old shouts - GOD!, but he says no....
I shout - Santa Claus!, but he says no...
He gives us another clue;
He fulfills you! (emphasizing the fill, like a televangelist)
7 year old shouts - Jesus!, but he says no...
7 year old shouts - The Spirit!, but he says no...
We are interrupted by a phone call from friends
wishing us happy anniversary (in song no less)
when it dawns on us, and we shout - The Cake Boss!!!!
YES!!! as we erupt in giggles.
It was a funny sequence, as husband and wife exchanged knowing glances,
recognized the surety of what makes us truly Happy.
God, in Christ - the spirit at work, generosity incarnate,
Christmas, family affection, and the delight of moments shared
in constant amazement, huddled together on the couch.
The simple truth is very little is needed to make a happy life.
Counting our blessings, so evident this day.

Bob Blogs

Bob and my husband have been friends since their boyhood days at St. Mary's
(where his mom carried her tupperware purse at yard duty
and was proficient in the corrective uses of the whistle)
and have shared a lifetime of mischievous fun in a lasting friendship.
Lucky me, that this duo immediately and irrevocably embraced me
when I first showed up on the scene back in high school.
Over the years we have laughed and cried,
borne one another's burdens in quiet companionship,
grew up together (with many a crazy adventure), lived together,
quietly prayed through one another's grief,
and Lord willing will grow old in one another's good company.
When Bob sent me this I was struck by the character of his friendship,
the common faith that looks at hopelessness with eyes full of hope,
who refuses the label and looks again to see the life,
 and who has not forgotten how to laugh at the good of it. Cheers indeed!


"We live in unusual times. Here in the middle of homeless Old Town Temecula,
the 2nd great depression has lent us more permanent homeless residents than most .
Unlike the last recession where we had characters named toothless Bob and Shorty,
for whom they and their friends found that our building was perfect for their needs
(backporch showers, frontporch bedrooms ,weekend partying and an occasional five finger discount –
anybody seen a slightly used laptop and overexposed telescope?),
the current times provide us a different kind of park and street dwellers.
I am not sure how you would characterize or classify them but they are different.
I am similarly not sure what to make of a fellow who rakes our leaves
and waters our lawn because he is bored (unless he is casing the joint –
he probably does not know Mark’s laptop is ancient history!).
Just as oddly, I cannot figure out a lady whose new dog poops on our lawn
and she comes over not just to remove the grass-killing pile
but also to clean the grass so no trace exists. These same two “homeless” types
were also spotted doing other nefarious deeds such as cutting our dead branches
and putting them in our dumpster on a timely basis (Thursday dumpster pick up)
and picking up trash in our yard while dog walking ------
sheeesh , what is the world coming to ? ……
this week , at least, I was glad to witness what it is coming to in our little part of the world…"
Cheers , Bob

I believe in a God who is Magnificent!

Pause my playlist at the bottom of the page to enjoy the music here

Captivated

I overhear her urging her friend, "Ask your mom if you can stay for dinner.
My mom is a really really good cook!"
I smile (I'm popping a frozen pizza in the oven). It's just a box pizza, I say.
She sidles up beside me conspiratorially.
"That's ok - you really really are a good cook."
Later, reading a bedtime story and tucking her in, I thank her for the compliment.
And she tells me then that when she grows up she wants to be just like me.
My shortcomings are hovering in the shadows of those words,
when she breaks into my maternal terrors with this;
"You are kind and you always help me,
unless you are teaching me to do it myself, but then you watch.
You are a good dancer. I'm a better singer though.
And you pray my bad dreams away and you have a lot of good ideas.
You are the best mommy ever!"
She asks if we can cook something together tomorrow,
and we do.
The image of her, aproned and cracking her first eggs into the bowl
is already in my scrapbooked heart.
Husband/Papa saw it too, this snapshot of grace.
We share the good of it in one delightful moment.
Good thing, cause I completely forgot my camera.
Life makes it's demands of us, but oh, it is so very full of magnificence.

HAPPY TRAILS TO YOU

We went hiking in the evening recently,
feeling the need to move past the walls that house us & occupy us,
breathe in the wide open spaces and the good company of the earth & one another.
We needed the quiet woods, as Emerson said,
to adopt the pace of nature - whose secret is patience.
Papa and 7 year old pack up a picnic, I grab my camera and we are off.
Mission Trails
Late afternoon sunshine and a cool breeze rustling the trees
accompany us as we make our way.

It is easy to find the path, feel confident heading into unknown territory
since so many have walked these trails, a well tramped path underfoot.
We found the old dam easily and it's rustic beauty and waterfalls were a pleasant surprise, a tranquil beauty.

It was just an evening walk; but filled with wonder...

We met a giant tree snail that gave Papa and 7 year old a lift.

Rabbits stopped to greet us on the path as they hurried and scurried to dinner.

An old, one-antlered reindeer guarding the sky.

Crossing a bridge later I saw this sign;  SENSITIVE HABITAT
















Ask God for a sign and sometimes it's a humdinger!
It's the place we have been living; our family, all of us
as we walk by faith on this new trail still being forged.
We picnicked on a fallen tree and then
7 year old walked the length of it balancing with her arms open wide.
I snapped away happily cheering her on -
it was only later at home I made the discovery -
Just on the edge of each shot, ready and waiting,

Papa's hand.

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. ~John Muir

Beautiful Beautiful World - ICP Awards

When you get there, roll over with your mouse to learn about each photo
(I am picturing you rolling over with a mouse, too funny)

Prudence and Bravery

7 year old has learned how to climb a doorway.
Do I want to see?
But of course.
Give me a minute she says…
And disappears into her room.
I hear drawers and doors,
footsteps to the garage and back,
Things being dragged from the bathroom.
After a good amount of time and a lot of activity
she proclaims herself ready!
She has put on every pair of underwear she owns
Her ‘biggest’ shorts over them all.
Another pair of underwear she found is on over those
Her nightgown
Her sweatshirt
Her swim goggles, the big ones
And her bicycle helmet
She has dragged out the bathroom towels
and placed the rug over them for padding
should she slip and fall.
Then, in an act of ready bravery,
she climbed to the top and shined!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Oh there is wisdom there.

Fix my mind (God so enjoys a play on words)

Your kindness should be known to all.
                                             ~ Philippians 4:5
I read this and come face to face with my desire to imitate Christ
and my own brokenness and need for grace.
I continue to read, to crawl under the covers of His word...
The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all,
but in everything, by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
I pull the sheets over my head and pray.
I know how that peace which makes no sense is born.
Then I read some more,
God’s Word encouraging me
To fix my mind on all that is good.
Whatever things are true, whatever things matter,
whatever things are righteous, whatever things are pure,
whatever things are lovely and lovable,
whatever things are gracious,
whatever virtue there is
and whatever praiseworthy thing there is,
think on these things. Philippians 4:8.

That's a good perspective to hold onto.
For Christ's sake, for my own continuing conversion,
and for the sake of those whom God has placed in my life, I keep at it.
Kind-ness urges me on.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
 Excerpt from Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye

What do you carry in your pocket?

...I carry the woman with the lost child
in my pocket, where she murmurs
her love song without end:
Just this, each day:
Bear yourself up on small wings
to receive what is given.
Feed one another
with such tenderness,
it could almost be an answer.

Closing stanza of "Morning Song" by Marcia F. Brown

Let your Heart Thrill

In the morning I sit in an eastern window as the sun comes up.
Each day this week
on the tip top of our neighbors roof
there has stood a lone bird, chirp, chirp, chirp.
It doesn't twill a melody,
just chirp, chirp, chirp
rather loudly, irregularly, but constantly.
It reminds me of the warning signal
when the batteries are low in the smoke alarm.
(though not as loud or as annoying, TBTG)
I have given it a casual glance each morning,
amazed at it's persistence.
But this morning, halfway through my prayer reading and coffee,
I noticed all was silent.
I looked out at their roof just in time to see this feathered friend
alight there and begin to shout out at the new day
chirp, chirp, chirp.
I watched it's effort-
every chirp caused it's tail feathers to stiffen and lift
and it's toes (do birds have toes?)
to lift off the ground, as we might do to stand on our heels.
There was no doubt this little guy was putting
everything he had into that morning shout out
and just the act of doing so 'curled his toes and shook his tail feathers'
Yes, by all appearances he was thrilled to make his unique glad noise!
He was made for it, and finding his Joie de vivre,
happily engaged in the task, never mind the effort it took.
This is not finding joy in life but the joy of living -
I looked it up...
Joie de vivre is a joy of everything, a comprehensive joy,
a philosophy of life, a Weltanschauung!
(Why does this remind me of Young Frankenstein)
It speaks to the framework of ideas and beliefs through which
we interpret the world and interact in it.
But my husband is the philosopher, I am the...
whoa - that one stopped me in my tracks,
bet my kids could fill that in with something,
but I digress.
This 'framework' is what I like to call holy spirit spectacles.
Try this -
GODISNOWHERE
What is says depends entirely on how you look at it.
Nothing changes but your own reading of it.
Dictionnaire says "joie is sentiment exaltant ressenti par toute la conscience,
that is, an exhilarating sense felt by the conscience
that involves one's whole being."

What comes to mind when you think of joy in this way?
Not how Life brings you joy
but how you bring Joy to all of life?

Rise up in splendor! Your light has come.
Yes, upon you the LORD shines, and over you appears his glory.
Raise your eyes and look about; then you shall be radiant at what you see,
your heart will thrill and overflow... Isaiah 60:1,4-5

Today You will be with Me in Paradise

We went to the nursery today -
After feasting on Tom's tomatoes
I was craving a plant of my own.
7 year old wants carrots that she can actually pull up from the ground.
So we pick out a small tomato plant and a packet of carrot seeds.
She chooses a carrot stake - with personality -
so that they will be really good, happy carrots.
She wonders aloud why the bees are so busy today.
and the lizards, baby iguana's in her mind,
are everywhere.
(She saw the photo of me, ages ago,
trying to be cool while terrified,
with an Iguana on my shoulder
while vacationing in Mexico, and is ever since intrigued)
We come home and play in the dirt,
she knows why the tomato likes to live in it's tower-
climbs inside to show me how it holds you up.
We make a mess together, get our hands dirty,
water our lives with quiet joy
plant some promises as we bend down
the sun on our backs
then stretch up tall, take it all in
look forward to the harvest,
watch the yellow butterflies dance among the flowers.

Today, our humble garden was easily confused with Paradise.

Walking the Tightrope

Sometimes it is easy...
having hope, walking by faith, trusting.
As it has been (remarkably so) this last week or two.
Counting everything grace, seeing miracles everywhere,
my world full of light and the load light as well.
Sunday was no exception.
I am feeling good - confident, and when I go to bed,
I drift off happy and grateful
to be at this place in the journey.
I sleep and I dream.

I am walking on a tightrope.

It is strong, thick rope, stretched between a faucet post and my front porch;
about 2 feet off the ground.
I am able to walk it with well-practiced assurance.
I know that if I fall, without a doubt
my foot will alight on solid ground.
I am smack in the middle when He says,
without any warning,
"Time to lift this thing higher"
and grabbing the rope lifts it well above His head.
I am suddenly thrust beyond my sure footing -
suspended now between a bending tree and the rooftop.
Nothing close for me to hold onto, solid ground looming far below.
I wobble, I am terrified, and I shout, "Don't let go of me!"
I have a sick feeling in my gut, I cannot breathe past the fear -
this is HIGH and I could get hurt.
I say it again,
with the urgency of Peter sinking outside the boat,
the man with the sick son no one can do anything for,
the woman dodging the crowd just to reach the hem of His cloak,
It's not a request - no manners on me at all.
I shout "Don't let go of me!"
My feet are curved and grasping for the strong cord
when I wake up.
In that moment I know
having hope, walking by faith, trusting
is like stepping out on that tightrope.
You have to have confidence in the rope!
Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the substance of things not seen...
~Hebrews 11:1
And that takes courage, not losing heart, Sacre Coeur.
I lay there in that thinly veiled place
and Iona's voices fill my mind

"Don't be afraid, My love is stronger,
my love is stronger than your fear.
Don't be afraid, my love is stronger
and I have promised, promised to be always near."

"She stepped onto the wire, and with the most intense pleasure,
 as she had always imagined it might be, she started to cross the sky."
~Mirette on the high wire

Wait for it...Wait for it...Wait for it

It was quite a weekend.
Full of peace and grace and
hushed halleluiahs deep within my soul.
A homecoming so full of promise, so wrapped in familial care,
it was extraordinary.
Commonplace actions that were uncommon for too many years -
the touch of a hand, a daughters' smile across the room,
easy laughter, trust.
A walk in the park.
We confidently embraced and took those first steps together.
My cup overflows, but that doesn't stop the outpouring.
Sunday brings more good news of New Life in this family
and my heart thrills.
Sunday evening as we sat together at mass
I swear I could feel the Holy Spirit elbowing me,
saying ,"see! SEE!"
Braggin' on God's work!

You cannot rush God's work.
As 7 year old loves to say,
"wait for it...wait for it...wait for it..."
until we are led,
with eyes veiled by our own hands,
to the place of mystery
and the moment arrives.
We drop our hands, look to see-
Surprise
a colorful drawing,
a dozen kisses,
butterflies in the garden,
a tasty treat,
our bed made,
complete with stuffed animals to cozy in the night,
the shining faces of the ones you love.

Write it on your heart
that the ones you love
are Life's most precious gifts.
~Swedish Proverb

On the eve of THE BIG DAY

I am trying to take a little rest, book in hand,
but truth be told there isn't much rest in my heart.
Tomorrow is a big day - THE BIG DAY.
My thoughts scatter and swirl,
my responsibilities weigh heavily on my shoulders.
Feeling the weight, I sigh my prayer,
 "Help me to carry all of this."
And then in a rush I see you suddenly and clearly,
small girl on the beach with BIG dreams-
looking adorably unusual;
set for the task in your goggles and swim cap,
carrying a rock too big, determined to take it home.
Your little face red under the strain,
 feet kicking up sand, girl on a mission!
Conor and Jessica laughing in disbelief at the sight of you.
 "Look at Katie!"
We turn to look,
and Dad rushes in and swoops up his baby girl, rock and all.
Giggles as you groan out the weight of it together.
We all run in and surround you,
so full of grace in the moment that I can feel it now, here.
You still held the rock but it no longer weighed you down
because someone held you.
Memories bright with the lightness of love.
That rock is likely still among the purple lobelias
that bloomed by our front door in Oceanside.

We don't need it to know this; we have His word
I have made you and I will carry you.--God (Papa)
Isaiah 46:4

Today we will welcome you home; and He will carry us all.

(Thanks to H for sharing; which prompted this recollection)

Everything

Our daughter is starting over - literally. Not picking up where she left off.
This Saturday is a big day! A beginning.
And to help her we put out word of her need for everything.
Within a matter of days; everything had been given,
by friends and friends of friends, by family and by God!
It was amazing; an avalanche of goodness, of kindness;
years of shared prayer
rising now to stand tall and stretching to see farther down the road.
Prodigals all.
Where once there was an empty space, now there is the comfort of home -
each and every thing given by one who has hoped and prayed and paved the way,
by one who continues to do so, encompassing her within the invisible bonds of love.

I am so touched by the generosity of these folks,
by their own moved hearts and personal response.
I live in and for that kind of christianity -
that kind of faith with a human touch that hopes and perseveres,
that grows into itself each day at God's own promptings.
I needed that today, even more than the new vacuum cleaner,
to clear up the mess that is scattered about me,
to bring peace to the chaos.
Unpacking so many dishtowels...all reminding me of my true mantle;
with those towels so durable and only improved with use;
tossed casually over the shoulder,
ready to soak up the mess of sickness,
dry the spilled tears,
make it possible to handle the scalding pot.
I am not made for the battlefields of sophistry
but for the solid weight of our family table,
a dish towel and a home built by and for love.
Soon we will gather 'round that table;
hold hands, speak grace
thanking God for everything.

And, for everything, Thank you.

These many beautiful days cannot be lived again,
but they are compounded in my own flesh and spirit
and I take them in full measure toward whatever lies ahead.
Daniel Berrigan SJ

P.S.  Maybe she is in some way 'picking up where she left off' so long ago,
Though she is not the same and neither are we,
May she carry the memory of beautiful days past into the newness of today.
May they be a hope and a help along the way.  Amen.

A Beautiful Anomaly

I read a story about a recently discovered underground cave
called Snowy River in New Mexico. One 'caver'/researcher
called the cave a “beautiful anomaly” and a national treasure.

An anomaly is something
unusual, or in other words,
peculiar.
My delight in a word
as holy spirit prompt
immediately brought
to mind the anomaly of me -
and you too my friends;
 the "peculiar treasures"
of God (Exodus 19:5).




And how the treasure of us is so often hidden in an underground cave.
When I think of treasure I think immediately of great value and beauty...
and when I think hidden underground I want to dig it up!

Ok a little stream of consciousness here.
Part of my work is in bereavement and specifically funeral planning.
I have walked with more folks than most in those mysterious days;
joined them in their underground cave of grief and loss, of memory, regret,
love's agonies...oh it is a deep cave.
I sit in it's quiet darkness and listen to their stories;
 hear of the peculiar treasure of each person
who has just passed from this life, slipped through their hands into eternal life.
And those treasures revealed by the most intimate of families and friends
are most often not the bold and beautiful things we say to compliment another,
but the beautiful anomaly's that endear them to us all.
They speak tenderly of quirks, compassionately of crosses borne,
conspiratorially of some hilarious habits, and so on.
All of them peculiar treasures.

Yet I also know in the daily routine of life, when we trick ourselves
into believing that the edge of that mysterious journey is far from us,
we work hard to keep these very things buried underground,
to keep others (and even ourselves) away from them.

They may be places of conversion, wounds crying out for the great physician.
But when the dark cave is filled with LIGHT
they are surprisingly just as often cause for great joy!
Like Beuchner writes in one of my favorite old books
Peculiar Treasures when he tells the story
of how Sarah and Abraham laugh
when the angel tells the old couple that Sarah is going to have a baby.
Sarah laughs so hard she has to go in the tent so as to not insult the angel.
Buechner says they are not laughing
at the impossibility of the message the angel carries.

 "The reason they laughed was that it suddenly dawned on them that the wildest dreams they'd ever had hadn't been half wild enough."

I am laughing a lot these days in the spirit of Sarah & Abraham as I catch a glimpse
of the immensity of the underground cave and the beautiful anomalies
 that are part of the story God is writing and we are living out, peculiar treasures all.

"The first thing that a person finds in life and the last to which he holds out his hand, and the most precious that he possess, even if he does not realize it, is family life."
- Blessed Adolph Kolping

Those lovely Iris blooms my grandmother loved

I planted irises in my yard because I love them.  But I love them because my Grandma Effie loved them. One summer when we lived in Indiana ( I was in 5th grade) my brother and I went to her house regularly as our parents worked.  It was the most magical of summers for me.  She gave us coffee for breakfast which she let us pour into our saucers to cool before sipping.  I remember the creamy sweetness and her smile at our devious secret.   We made sticky bread together and helped her wring the laundry with the hand wringer in the basement.  We picked blueberries, and wouldn't you know I have a meager bush in my yard.  We napped on the porch and watched the thunderstorms rain on one half of the street while the sun shone on the other side.  Watched my one-armed uncle Dickie (who lost his arm to polio as a child and spent ages in an iron lung) - so mysterious, laugh out loud in wicked delight.  My grandmother had long hair which surprised me the day I first saw it down...sat on her bed and unbraided it while we talked of her youth, being a nurse.  She let me brush her hair and to this day I can smell her room, see the late afternoon sunlight as it bathed us in its warm light, and feel how special I felt in that moment - priveledged, grown-up.  There was a photograph of her in her nurses cap on her dresser and I thought she was beautiful and so full of life.  When she smiled she had those twinkling eyes that grace the faces of kind souls.  My Uncle Danny has those eyes, and so does my own mom, though hers appear brighter and more mischievious after a margarita (which delights me to no end)!

These blues make you anything but

Good Morning Glory!

Flashback

It happened at mass - we were kneeling before communion.
It had been a graced time - this mass, as 7 year old was less wiggle worm
and more singing her heart out to Jesus, affectionate with us.
Blessed.
So we are kneeling and I am thanking the lord even as I am repenting
some bitterness I have held onto saying the words so woven
 into my fabric of being
"Lord I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word and I shall ...
mom...mom...what's the word?"
And my world stopped.
I remember in an instant our firstborn asking the question
at St. Mary's during morning mass.
Took me a while to get it - oh the word, like a secret
 that could only be whispered in sacred passageways - the word...
I was the young mom then, new and eager in all things.
The word is yes, God says yes to heal us and
his word makes it happen - god keeps his promises.
For days she was so excited about keeping promises,
 excited that if she asked
and God said Yes then God would do it!
She liked a God who made promises and kept them.
A couple of years later and we are kneeling in Mary Star of the Sea.
Our son is preparing for his first communion -
so excited he plays at saying mass with necco wafers -
when he leans over to me and with hushed conspiratorial tones
asks, mom, mom, what's the word?
He is looking for the password - the way to get it to happen,
the magical secret that gets God on your side.
It means when God made you he made you to be happy and holy -
he wants you to be happy and holy.
If you ask him, he will do it, forgive you, make you whole,
make you happy.
Neccos to his sisters in the backyard for weeks following
include a command from him- say the word! say the word!
His sisters don't get it but he keeps insisting.
They kneel and wait for Neccos.
That makes them happy.
I ponder the hunger we all have for that word.
More years pass, a new house and a new parish -
kneeling at Holy Trinity and our youngest (at the time)
asks her Dad.
I smile, off the hook.
But he turns to me - c'mon, mom what's the word?
I'm the teacher, so out it comes
It's a bible story - the centurion (Matt 8:8)
who said those words and Jesus healed his servant.
It means if we have faith and ask Jesus for help,
he will help and heal us.
"Can he fix my ears", she asked?
Yes, he gave us Dr Jackson to do that.
"Good".
Twenty-one years later here we are,
kneeling at mass in St. Therese and history repeats itself...
"mommy... mommy...what's the word?"
She loves secret words, whispered, companions in mystery.
But living the mystery changes us
so I do not give her an answer -
I ask...what do you think?
"I'm not sure," she says.
"Is it just one word or a whole sentence?"
You pick, I say, waiting.
"I think its just a word...
Amen."
Yes, Amen.
I am sure you are right.
Amen.  Alleluia.

Let it be so.

the only known photograph of God ~

Photo by Fr. Loius/Thomas Merton