Week of Grace: Day 6

"I may be too tired to write tonight," I thought, "I don't know if I can even think anymore."

My body and mind were both limp with exhaustion from a busy work day on top of post-migraine fatigue. Yet there was something in me that still wanted to try. Grace is not only a gift - it is a call.

Rodger, my spiritual brother, had sent me an image for this Week of Grace, and some words to inspire me. "Perhaps I could start there..." I considered. I asked God's blessings and began.

The picture Rodger sent was of a sand dollar lying on the beach, a common sight along the coast, but never seen here in the Midwest. I realized that I didn't even really know what a sand dollar is - and so I read a bit online.

I learned that what is found on the shore is the hard outer shell (or "test") of the once-living sea urchin that feeds on plankton on the ocean floor.

The sand dollar's life develops from the union of egg and sperm floating in the sea, resulting in a larva that swims on its own and may be carried for miles by ocean tides. No care is received from the parents who provide only their seed. The larva undergoes a series of metamorphoses before it develops its test. Some varieties of sand dollars apparently live for 8-10 years or more.

Reflecting on the lives of these creatures, it struck me how remarkable it is that they survive, given their perilous start. And yet they do - and each one grows and changes into a round, flat durable adult that bears no resemblance to its early larval life. And on the test of each sand dollar is a beautiful design that resembles the petals of a flower.

As I write this, I cannot help but think of how, in a very different way, we humans often experience perilous starts in life, are carried away by tides and even grow hard shells. And yet, compared to the sand dollar, a much more profound metamorphosis is offered to each of us - and that indeed is great grace.

Below is Rodger's sand dollar image and a short poem I wrote this evening, while reflecting on its life...

(photo by Rodger, used with permission; editing and text by me)

it is time to let go –

to allow the turbulent sea

to take away the old self

and cast it on the shore.

it is time to be free –

to be washed of all that was

to be baptized into new life

by the ocean of His Love.

it is time to rise from darkness –

to leave the depths behind

to find a home in His great light

where grace and hope abound.

Week of Grace: Day 5

Sometimes God tries my patience. When another fierce migraine descended upon me today, turning my brain into tapioca pudding, I found it a bit more challenging to give thanks and surrender than I did on Sunday. The novelty wears off.

But, of course, true faith, true commitment, is not based on novelty. My life belongs to God every day, every moment and my trust in His gift of grace remains even when temperamentally I don't feel any patience for life's trials.

After cancelling everything and sleeping a few more hours, I meandered through my day. (The free online dictionary defines the word meander as "to move aimlessly and idly without fixed direction." Quite appropriate.)

At one point, I listened online to a reading from the prophet Jeremiah, taken from today's Office of readings:

For I know well the plans 

I have in mind for you

says the Lord,

plans for your welfare,

not for woe!

plans to give you 

a future full of hope.

When you call me,

when you go to pray to me,

I will listen to you.

When you look for me,

you will find me.

Yes, when you seek me

with all your heart,

you will find me

with you...

Yes, it does say "with all your heart", doesn't it? I cannot expect to find God by seeking Him with only part of my heart, allowing myself to reserve some other parts to seek what I want, to seek my comfort. No, my whole and entire heart. 

And so I let go of my plans and allowed the Spirit to lead me to whatever grace there might be for me in the plan of today. Oddly, while I'm recovering from migraine, my memory and concentration are at a low point. But somehow I can distract myself by getting absorbed in a nonverbal project - and often do, lest I go mad from boredom. (Or perhaps I have gone mad?!)

The video below was assembled with some images I received this summer while walking aimlessly around lake and marsh, delighting in the plant and animal life that greeted me as well as the watery surroundings. The audio I recorded this afternoon after tuning my harp. It is not meant to be melodic, just a meandering through whatever grace God might offer in the moment.

So come, meander with me in the lostness of our common humanity and affliction. Let us seek Him always with our all of our hearts that we might might find Him with us, as He promised...

Week of Grace: Day 4

I got up this morning, rather lazily, as is often the case on Wednesdays, a day on which I typically work at home and relax a bit. As is my routine, I walked into my dining room where sliding glass doors open out to my back yard.

Habitually glancing out, I refocused my eyes and looked again. I had an unexpected visitor. Though many people complain of their gardens being ravaged and overrun by deer, as an inner city dweller, it was a delightful surprise to see one of these beautiful creatures grazing in my back yard.

My camera received her image several times through the kitchen window. Then I thought, "Why not go outside with her?"

To my surprise, she did not go bounding off at the sight of me. Instead, she looked at me expectantly with those bottomless brown eyes.

Sensing that she was hungry (what urban deer isn't?), I returned to my kitchen and and found an apple. It was quite a large apple and I didn't know if she would like it, so I cut it in half and brought half out to her. I walked up to her and she sniffed it hesitantly. I set it in the grass near her.

In seconds, she was sniffing more and then began to eat hungrily. Soon the half-apple had disappeared and the doe was staring hopefully at me again. I could not mistake the meaning of that universal look, "More?"

Unable to resist her, I re-entered my house and grabbed the other half of the apple. She was waiting for me. This time, she took it from my hand and soon had consumed it in its entirety. Again, I was met by that gaze.

I had nothing else to give her. I held out my empty hands. She waited. I wondered if she would let me touch her. However, each time I slowly extended a hand, she moved her head to keep her eyes trained on me to see what I was up to. Wise creature.

I held forth my hand again, in case she wanted to sniff me. (I don't know if deer feel a need to sniff but dog-memories came to mind.) She sniffed - and then she licked my hand. Though she was undoubtedly searching for more apple-sweetness, I couldn't help but experience this as a gesture of affection, despite her wariness.

Having gone back indoors, I watched her as she walked around my yard, noting carefully whether she was going to start munching on my butterfly garden. (Some things are off limits, even to friends...) However, she did not. She walked through the garden a few times but almost appeared to be stepping carefully, as though not to trample the plants.

Then she folded herself up in the grass for a while, appearing content to rest in the dappling of morning light and shade.

As much joy as her visit brought me this morning, I was sad for this dear one. Her life is confined to a small wooded area between our urban lots and the freeway below. We are far from the vast park system the city offers and even farther from the wild and natural habitat that should be hers.

She has settled for this tiny world because it is all she knows. She does not know the way to her true Home. How I wish I could help her find it - the place where she could forage for luscious foods meant just for her, where she could kick up her hoofs and bound across gentle slopes with utter abandon. Where her little one (viewed from a distance earlier this year), could grow to maturity without hunger or fear.

She was a gift of grace to me this morning - completely unexpected and not of my asking.

She was grace because of her natural beauty. But more than that - she reminded me of how we humans often relate to our divine Helper. Expectant and hopeful, but afraid to get too close. Warily accepting gifts - but pulling back from more intimate contact. Living in our limited worlds, assuming that this is all there is...or dreaming of a grander world with no idea how to get there.

For my deer-friend, I am no divine helper. Just one little oasis of caring in her difficult urban life. And yet is that not often the way of the true Divine Helper? Does He not offer us little oases of compassion in our sorrows, of light in our darkness? Unexpected moments of grace that hint at more?

Indeed. One came to me just this morning.

His grace abounds...

Week of Grace: Day 3

One thing I have learned about grace is that I can't make it happen. In fact, trying to make it happen reminds me a bit of the experience of trying to make myself go to sleep. Doesn't work. The harder I try, the more awake I am. It is only when I let go of the controls and allow myself to drift off that sleep envelopes me.

With grace, my inability to make it happen is about more than just the reality that I cannot control God. If I stop and remember that grace is a gift, an unmerited gift, I can understand it a bit better.

Even when the desired outcome occurs, the act of trying to force a gift renders it no longer a gift. If a wife says to her husband, "Buy me some flowers or I will divorce you", when the flowers are received, they do not feel like a gift. The husband doesn't feel like he has given of his love and the wife doesn't feel like she has received it.

Yet sometimes when we don't understand the ways of God, we may feel like the demanding spouse. "Give me a gift, God! Prove to me that you exist and that you love me." It is not surprising that we do not experience grace so easily when we give this sort of ultimatum. It is not because God is unwilling to give, but because we have stepped out of the way of love.

(Excuse me for a moment. I'll be back shortly.)

+++

I've been gone about an hour. I have felt quite tired tonight and a bit like the demanding spouse - "Give me something to write about, God!" So I decided to paint instead. But I didn't want to be demanding with my palette either but rather to enter into loving relationship with Him. So I paused a moment to allow my heart to be open to whatever He gave. I committed myself to post here whatever came forth, realizing that I could well end up with something quite ordinary - or even something that I didn't like at all.

Oddly, He gave me flowers. :-)

I do not consider this any great work of art. Quite the contrary.

However, I share with you what I have done as an invitation to step into the way of Love with whatever longings you experience. Allow yourself to open your hands and heart so that they may be filled with His grace, in whatever form it takes. Then, take a moment and give thanks.

And now, I give thanks and prepare to drift off to sleep...

(Comments and contributions during this Week of Grace are welcome and may be e-mailed to me at findhope@roadrunner.com.)

Week of Grace: Day 2

"What is this thing?" I thought to myself upon encountering the odd sight.

My camera and I were wandering through the woods a few weeks ago when we nearly ran into it. It wasn't its attractiveness that it caught my eye. On the contrary, it looked rather like a small collection of debris hanging onto the remains of a spider web. Not the sort of thing that I go out of my way to photograph. And yet the image had presented itself to me. Dangling right in front of me, in fact.

Without really knowing why, I accepted the image with my camera and continued my walk.

Generally when I go walking, I must confess, I keep my eye open for beautiful things. I like to encounter plant and animal life in all of their splendorous sizes and colors. I am often drawn to detail - close up views of things that normally I would notice only from a distance, if at all. Occasionally a landscape or seascape will captivate me, especially on a brilliant sunny day.

In other words, I tend to seek out experiences that I naturally like. I doubt that makes me a great deal different from the average person. Who, after all, would venture out with a camera to find ugly or disturbing images? Or more broadly, who would seek out disappointment, pain or sorrow?

And yet, as we walk through life, we do not know what we will encounter. Although we make many choices along the way, a great many things occur about which we have no choice. And sometimes one choice or encounter starts us down a path to many other choices or encounters that we hadn't seen coming.

Today, for example, I was still trying to pull out of yesterday's migraine, feeling unpleasant but a bit more functional. Since it is holiday and I had no other plans, I thought I'd run by a local store that was having a sale on perennials. Get a few more plants in the butterfly garden, I thought, and maybe they'll come up again next year to fill in some of the empty spaces.

Seemed like a reasonable decision at the time...gardening is a nice, relaxing activity for a Labor Day afternoon when feeling a bit under the weather. "It will probably distract me from the lingering headache and upset stomach", I thought.

I found some lovely plants at a reasonable price and proceeded to find some vacant spots in the garden. With shovel and spade, I dug a couple of holes and stepped back to pick up one of the waiting plants.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, searing pain in my left foot. Aware that something had stung or bitten me, I surveyed the area in search of the culprit without success. "This really hurts!" I thought. Assuming that the pain would subside fairly soon, I proceeded to dig another hole and deposit another newcomer into my little patch of earth. The pain, however, was escalating, not remitting.

Limping, I dragged the remains of my garden project back to the house where I could examine the damage more closely. I could see that the sting site was red and swollen. The pain alternated between throbbing and stabbing, with no signs of relenting. It is now 4-5 hours later and it still hurts like the dickens, despite a baking soda paste and a frozen bagel - I didn't have any ice cubes - to numb it.

(For those of you inclined to worry about me, I did call medical advice and was screened and advised - I'm not dying, just really uncomfortable.)

Remembering what I had written yesterday...I can give thanks for every experience...There is Divine gift in every moment... I must have been delirious from the migraine. What nonsense! This hurts...

But let's stop and be open to whatever grace may await us.

Walking through life for most people is far more complicated and treacherous that anything I encountered today. I fret over a passing pain while others live almost perpetually in physical or emotional pain. In my years as a psychologist, I have listened to countless heart-rending stories and wondered, "Could I have survived that?"

Not just the "that" of the horrible experience - the abuse, the tragic loss, the war, the illness or the injury - though that is more than enough - but also all of the choices that grew out of those experiences and led to more painful experiences. Often, it seems, that people blame themselves for their distress because they can trace it back to a few key decisions made. "It's my fault", the spoken or unspoken protest begins, "I'm the one who..."

Doubtless, I should have worn sturdy shoes to protect my feet today while gardening. It was my fault.

However, there are no "sturdy shoes" that a child can choose to protect themselves from the impact of emotional, physical or sexual abuse. There are no "sturdy shoes" strong enough to protect the soul from war's atrocities, whether experienced as soldier or civilian. There are no "sturdy shoes" that can prevent serious illness or injury from devastating a life.

And once these things occur, all choices made thereafter are irrevocably influenced, often leading to a cascade of suffering that threatens to overwhelm. Often the years (or decades) of pain and perceived failure leave people feeling like they are hanging on by a mere thread. One more thing...

And here is where the grace enters. That odd-seeming image I received during my walk some weeks ago - it developed in a way I could never have anticipated. Somehow words began to grow around it and became a most astounding image - a gift that I offer now to you:

As I prepare to post this comment, the pain in my foot is finally starting to ease a bit. As you open yourself to God's gift, one far greater that this little image, may your pains ease as well. Many blessings.

(I welcome comments or creative offerings in this Week of Grace. You may e-mail them to me at: findhope@roadrunner.com.)

Week of Grace: Day 1

(Today begins the Week of Grace during which, God willing, I will post something on Grace each day for 7 days. We have completed Weeks of Hope and Peace, with a plan to continue through the 7 "holy pauses" that were given to me.)

It is Labor Day weekend and today is Sunday. My plans were all made and I felt a pleasant anticipation. I would go to church in the morning and then spend much of the afternoon sharing with a special group of friends that gathers monthly. Then a bit of dinner, call my parents and handle a few chores.

During the night, I woke a couple of times, noting that one side of my head was hurting a bit. This is not unusual for me, as I experience migraines of varying levels of severity fairly regularly. When my alarm clock began its chirping sound, I reset the clock for a bit later. Waking again, I could not deny the signs and so took some migraine medication and returned to sleep. I got up later and meditated. Then I called my friends to let them know I would not be joining them. Back to bed.

Some migraines I can function through. During others, like today's, I can barely remain vertical.

However, I am not complaining. In fact, I give thanks for my migraine. I am beginning to learn that I can give thanks for almost any experience that comes my way. I can do this because I see that Grace abounds. There is Divine gift in every moment, if I am open to receiving it.

As I recognized this morning that the migraine was taking over, I was called to surrender all that I thought today would be. Sinking into a deep fatigue, there was an oddly peaceful acceptance that my life is not mine to do with whatever I wish. I let go of plans - I had no choice - but I rested assured that I am sustained in life by One who has even greater plans for me than I can imagine.

Of course, like everyone else, I do not like pain and all of the accompanying sensations of unwellness. But I see a grace in them, a gift from God. As I experience my suffering, I am invited into the suffering of God which transcends any human notion of suffering.

The suffering of God is a self-emptying Love, eternally giving. Our Creator was not content to bring us into being and dispassionately observe the pain generated by our destructive ways. Rather, He became one with us by Incarnation, by joining in our human experience and becoming our suffering in His own human body.

His choice to do so was born out of love, the Love which defines God. I do not have a choice about suffering - and I'm sure you feel the same - it comes to me whether I want it to or not. (And I seldom, if ever, do I want it.)

However, the invitation into the suffering of God opens up a whole new level of choice. In embracing what comes to me, I experience the gift (the grace) to unite my bit of suffering to the suffering of all others and to the suffering of God, where it becomes part of the unspeakably deep and vastly eternal Love.

It is deeply humbling to accept this invitation. To fully embrace it, I must surrender. Holding on to me and what I want and wish for leaves me just being me. Even the surrender itself I cannot make of my own power or will. I would never be strong enough or good enough without Divine grace.

And so I am thankful.

Oddly, last night, not knowing what was coming, I felt drawn to print out an image that I received a few weeks ago that reminded me of the call to humility. I share it now with you...

(During this Week of Grace, I welcome your comments, writing or images relevant to the topic. You may e-mail them to me at findhope@roadrunner.com. If you wish to have them posted, please let me know if you would like me to use your name or a pseudonym. Many blessings to you.)