A Year After the Murder of George Floyd

 Today we remember and we honor George Floyd.

There will be news programs and articles in newspapers and online venues to mark this day. Social media will burst with comments and analysis. Events and demonstrations, including one at my church this afternoon, are planned. This is an important day, not only to remember a man whose life was taken cruelly and unnecessarily, but also a day to measure what we have done to change ourselves and this country. 

One of the books I use in my daily devotions is Joyce Rupp's Fragments of Your Ancient Name, 365 Glimpses of the Divine for Daily Meditation. Each meditation explores a name by which God is known around the world and in many spiritual traditions. This is my second time around using the prayers in this book, and more than likely it won't be my last, for they so often are exactly what needs to touch or open or nurture my heart.

This is the prayer for May 21. 

                    Home of Good Choices

                Whether to keep or let go,
                To reach out or pull back,
                To rest or keep going,
                To speak out or be silent,
                To forgive or stay angry,
                To offer help or turn away.
                These choices and more
                Tumble and spin around in us.
                If we bring them to you,
                We will make wise decisions.

        Today: I include my Home in decision-making.

This past year has demanded that we make good choices, better choices. And there is always a choice. I believe that when we ground our decision-making in God as "home," it is more possible to make  good choices. Our choices determine if this year will be another of violence and trauma, of injustice and racial disparity or if this year will lead us closer to justice and equality, to love and compassion. 

The choice is mine. The choice is yours.

An Invitation
What informs the choices you make? I would love to know. 

Waking Up: Tuesday's Reflection

Some mornings I need more than one wake up call.

I fell asleep easily after a wonderful evening with friends, but then was awake for a couple hours as Sunday became Monday. Of course, that meant when my gentle alarm sounded at 6:30, I was reluctant to get out of bed. I resisted for 45 minutes. 

Had I forgotten how much I need to do today? How will I meet the deadlines I have set for myself? Oooh, that "to do" list--both a blessing and a rebuke in my life. 

Even though I am up later than intended, however, I make the bed and go up the stairs to the garret for my morning meditation time, and, of course, what awaits me is exactly what I need.

First, from Joyce Rupp, "I awaken to what sleeps in me."

What sleeps in me? 

My true self, my essence, the person I was created to be. 
A willingness to rest in the embrace of God. 
Expansive love. 
More growth and openness. 

My job is to wake up.

Second, I start reading a new book, The Grace in Living, Recognize It, Trust It, Abide In It by Kathleen Dowling Singh and in the introduction I read this phrase, "exploration of our own path of awakening." She suggests creating a timeline of our life on which we mark "grace points," to indicate a "significant moment of healing, realization, or transformative shift." 

Moments of awakening to what sleeps in me. 

After writing in my journal about the synchronicity in these passages in different books, I decide to read a couple pages in a book about writing, Writing Toward Home, Tales and Lessons to Find Your Way by Georgia Heard. She quotes Matthew Fox, "Thou shalt fall in love at least three times a day."

In other words, WAKE UP!     

An Invitation
What sleeps in you and what do you need, in order to wake up? I would love to know.   

Resources:  
Kathleen Dowling Singh
Joyce Rupp
Georgia Heard

Evening Prayers: Thursday's Reflection

What is your energy like in the evening? More and more I find I am not good for much of anything at night? All I want is to get into my pajamas and watch something absorbing on television (Recent favorites include The Great British Baking Show and Home Fires) or curl up in the snuggery and read. I look forward to bedtime in a way I never did before. 

I am a morning person, and I want to do everything in the morning, including my prayer and meditation time. At night as I close my eyes, I whisper a few words of gratitude and blessing, but that is about it. However, if I return to my garret at night I often sit quietly in my comfortable chair and think about the day I have been privileged to live, even when the day has not gone as planned. 

Joyce Rupp in her classic, The Cup of My Life, A Guide for Spiritual Growth suggests the following questions as a way to let go of the day and move towards rest.

1.   How open or aware was I to the presence of God in my day?

2.   What kind of nourishment did I receive? What kind of nourishment did I give?

3.   Does anything need to be emptied out in order for me to be at peace tonight?

4.   For what do I thank God as I prepare to enter into sleep?

When I sit with these questions, I feel my body relax, not just from exhaustion, but because I let go of control and any worry preparing to perch on my pillow. Tomorrow, if I am so blessed, is another day, and I will have the chance to be the aware and nourishing person I truly want to be. 

I whisper a closing prayer and turn out the lights. 

Divine Companion, shelter me under your wings of love. Grant me a peaceful night and a restful sleep. Amen.  

                                                          Joyce Rupp

Two Evening Prayers by Marianne Williamson

Dear God,

Thank You for this day.

Thank You for my safety and the safety of my loved ones.

As I enter sleep, may these hours give me peace.

May they bring healing to my mind and body.

Where there is pain, where there are people who have no place to sleep, who suffer and who die, may Your angels come unto them and minister to their lives.

Dear Lord,

Please let the light stream in.

Please use my hours of sleep.

Please prepare me during these hours of rest for greater service to You.

May the light that surrounds me, tomorrow shine through me.

Soften my heart.

Thank you, Lord.

Amen. 

Dear God,

I surrender to You the day now over.

May only the love remain.

Take all else into the fire of Your transformative power.

Release me, release others, from any wrongdoing.

Dear God,

Return me to Your light.

As I now give to You who I am, what I did, who I loved, who I failed to love, please make all things right.

Take all things.

May I continue to grow in Your light and love.

Tomorrow may I be better.

Amen.  

An Invitation

What is your evening routine? Does it include time to review and bless the day? I would love to know. 

Fall Transitions and Transformation: Tuesday's Reflection

In what ways have you made the transition into fall? What are you doing that is different from even a month ago? What are signs of this shift?

I now shut the front door when I come in from outside, instead of keeping it open to the glass storm door. 

I fix a cup of hot chocolate when I return from my morning walk, especially if I have neglected to grab a pair of lightweight gloves as I leave the house. The steam from the hot chocolate mimics the steam on my glasses when I step back into the house.

I wrap myself in a shawl during morning devotion time and sometimes even later when I work at my desk. 

I turn on the kitchen lights when I fix dinner, for the darkness appears earlier and earlier. And dinner these days is often soup or squash or other hearty food. 

I clean my closet, folding and storing summer clothes, replacing them with sweaters and corduroy shirts and pants. I switch spring jackets and raincoat for winter vests and heavy coats. 

I don't miss a chance to comment on the glories of these days, the gifts of a long fall. Often the response from stranger or friend will be about the dreaded winter. I nod and smile, as if in agreement, but I am a winter-lover, as much as a fall enthusiast. 

And yet, just the other day I sat outside on the front step and ate my turkey sandwich and read in the noontime sunshine. The shift is not yet complete.

That's the thing about fall. 

          Autumn holds fragments of other seasons in transform-
          ative arms. Even while forecasting an end to lush green
          summer, we are still gifted with some warm, green
          moments. The quiet turning of the leaves from summer
          green to radiant arrays of color offers us a splendor as 
          lovely as the blossoms of spring. Sitting in autumn's
          quiet sunlight can be a sonnet without words. Ever so
          slowly, this season turns its face toward winter. It is a
          bridge between the warmth and the cold. Beginning
          with summer's dew still in its hair, it can quickly
           become a friend of winter's frost. 
                                   The Circle of Life,
                                   The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons
                                   Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr

Fall is the perfect time to think about the shifts in our lives. Yes, our external lives, but also our inner lives. Where on the bridge of your life are you standing? "What do we need to gather into our spiritual barns? What in our lives needs to fall away like autumn leaves so another life waiting in the wings can have its turn to live?" (The Circle of Life, p. 168)

The balance between trees still sheltered by leaves in rich colors to bare branches shifts daily, even hourly. The sidewalk becomes a broadcast of leaf shuffling, and pumpkins seem to appear spontaneously on steps. We can wake to the trees as they surrender their hold on the leaves and to the leaves as they let go. 

Come, let us discover what needs to shift in our own lives and awaken to the next stage of our lives.

An Invitation
How is fall your teacher? What message does fall have for your inner life? I would love to know.  

Note: Thanks to Daniel Mauer for including one of my recent posts on "transformation" on his dynamic site Transformation Is Real. Daniel is a writer and speaker and recovery advocate and is passionate about sharing stories about the role of transformation in people's lives. You can read my post and visit his site here.

A Summer Prayer by Joyce Rupp: Tuesday's Post

What a wonderful summer we are having, and I hope that is the case for you, too. Are you a summer person who looks forward to this time of year most of the rest of the year? I have always declared myself to be a winter person, but this year I am enjoying each day, even the wildly humid ones, more than in the past. Perhaps that has to do with my age and the desire to savor each day, no matter what.

All of a sudden it will be August and then September and on it goes, so this week, mid-July already, seems like a good time to take a deep breath, a pause, and to be present to this summer. 

How would you describe this summer of your life? Are you doing what you intended to do? What's on your summer list? Where is this summer leading you?

One of my seasonal spiritual guides is The Circle of Life, The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr. Each season I turn to this book for a way to encounter the days in a deeper way, a way that aligns my inner spirit with the outward changes I see as I walk and move in the world. 

In that spirit I offer "A Summer Prayer." (pp 119-120) I invite you to read through this prayer, perhaps more than once. What lines resonate with you the most? What is the state of your summer soul? Where is there ease and absence of winter worries? Where is there growth and transformation, much to your surprise? How is summer inviting you to rest and to heal? Where are you headed this summer and how will you know when you are there?

Let us begin.

                       A Summer Prayer

May you breathe in the beauty of summer with its power of transformation.
May this beauty permeate all that feels un-beautiful in you. 

          May the God of summer give us beauty. 

May you seek and find spaces of repose during these summer months.
May these moments refresh and restore the tired places within you.

          May the God of summer give us rest.

May you be open to times of celebration and recreation that are so much a part of summer.
May you find happiness in these times of play and leisure.

          May the God of summer give us joy.

May your eyes see the wonders of summer's colors.
May these colors delight you and entice you into contemplation and joy.

          May the God of summer give us inner light.

May you feel energy of summer rains penetrating thirsty gardens, golf courses, lawns and farmlands.
May these rains remind you that your inner thirst needs quenching. 
May your inner self be refreshed, restored, and renewed.
         
         May the God of summer give us what we need for healing.

May you savor fresh produce that comes to your table and enjoy the fruits of summer's bounty.

          May the God of summer give us a sense of satisfaction in the works of our hands.

May you find shelter when the stormy skies of summer threaten your safety.

          May the God of summer give us shelter when inner storms threaten our peace of mind and heart.

May you enjoy the unexpected and find surprises of beauty and happiness as you travel the roads on summer vacation.

          May the God of summer lead us to amazing discoveries as we travel the inner roads of our soul as well. 

An Invitation
How did this prayer speak to you? I would love to know. 

Resources
Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com
Macrina Weiderkehr http://www.macrinawiederkehr.com/about 

Thursday's Reflection: Living Mindfully

On my way up to the garret, I glanced out the window and what did I see? This agile and daring squirrel. He was willing to stretch and take a chance in hopes of getting the desired morsel of bird seed. I suspect he was successful. If he wasn't successful, chances are he will try again until he gets what he wants or until he decides the effort isn't worth it, and he spots another place with potential for an afternoon snack. 

This squirrel is always good for a laugh and a smile. And a pause in the day. 

I had been gone all morning, attending a workshop at church about health care directives. Although not the lightest of topics, the time was congenial with pleasant people and helpful information.  However, I was eager to return to my desk before it would be time to pick up our granddaughter from school. The time seemed to be oozing away from the day. More than pressured to accomplish some self-designated task, I was eager to return to the writing I had started earlier in the day. I didn't want to lose momentum or what seemed to me to be deep insights--so deep they may have disappeared. 

But then there was that squirrel, showing off, auditioning for Cirque du Soleil, and cheating the birds out of what should rightfully be theirs. I had no choice but to pause and watch and even now as I sit at my desk, I wonder what that squirrel is plotting next. 

Mark Nepo http://www.marknepo.com uses the phrase, "a daily dose of holiness," in his book The Endless Practice, p. 192. I'm not saying the squirrel is holy, but if you want to view him that way, that is fine with me, but the pause I gave myself to stand and watch him and delight in his antics, even though only moments earlier I had been pulled in my own direction was holy. The lure to pause was holy. 

How many opportunities are there in your day for a dose of holiness? The trick is to be aware of them, to allow them past your closed door, to soften and soak up the scene. What was the soft drink slogan? "The pause that refreshes."

In the unplanned moment, I was holy. 

By "holy," I don't mean wearing long robes and removing myself from the world, and I certainly don't mean being better than anyone else. Holiness is not about perfection or about being wrapped in some golden light, too pure to be touched by what is harmful or hurtful. Rather, holiness is being alive to the extraordinary in the ordinary, returning to our center, even though the feeling may last no longer than one cycle of inhale and exhale. 

We each have the potential to bring holiness into our day to day experiences and realities. We each have the promise of noticing the holy and therefore, bringing holiness into our being. 

Perhaps the following prayer will encourage your own practice of holiness.

Surprising One, coming in ways I least expect, open me to your dynamic presence.
          Awaken me, Surprising One!
Perceptive Guide, always available o direct my ways, advise me in self-discipline and decision-making.
           Awaken me, Perceptive Guide!
Freedom Bringer, asking for my willingness to surrender, help me to let go, to let in, to let be.
            Awaken me, Freedom Bringer!
Source of Power, providing stamina and strength for my soul, support me when I am weak and vulnerable.
             Awaken me, Source of Power!
Arousing One, stirring up why is dead or stale, urge my stagnant, sleeping gifts into life.
              Awaken me, Arousing One!
Divine Transformer, encouraging continued growth, grant me both patient and acceptance.
               Awaken me, Divine Transformer!
Peacemaker, offering forgiveness and understanding, encourage me to communicate love.
                Awaken me, Peacemaker! 
Bearer of Love, never-ending font of charity and compassion, may I share my goodness generously.
                Awaken me, Bearer of Love!
                                                adapted from Out of the Ordinary Prayers, Poems, Reflections for Every Season, Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com

An Invitation
I invite you to see the holy and be the holy. What happens as you invite the holy into your life and as you offer your own holiness into the life around you? I would love to know. 

Thursday Reflection: Happy New Year!

Dear Friends, Happy New Year and welcome to 2015!  

New Year's Day is not the only time during the year when we experience a fresh start, a new beginning. Perhaps you have that feeling at the start of the school year, even though you haven't been in a classroom for many years, or maybe it occurs on the first day of  turning earth for a new garden or opening a can of paint to bring new life to an outdated room. Have you have known that feeling of "newness" with the birth of a grandchild or a decision to make a major change in your life? Yes, one can experience a feeling of beginning anew often throughout the year, but somehow January 1 is unlike all other launches. 

In January we seem to be bombarded with suggestions about how to organize and declutter our lives. Target's aisles of plastic bins are marauded by those who have resolved to bring more order into their lives. Magazines and newspapers and blogs and other websites all give hints for how to deal with the material stuff in our life, all in the hope of living easier. 

Many of us create lists in these first days of the new year of what needs to be done in our homes. In our home, today is the designated "demolition" day. No walls are coming down. Just the Christmas decorations. As much as I have loved decorating this year, and the house has been so cozy in the glow of candles and Christmas lights, IT IS TIME! I can't wait to return Christmas bins to the storage area, and then my first 2015 house task will be to tackle the laundry room. Mundane, I know, but so be it. 

My list is long as we continue to deal with all the possessions from a lifetime of collecting. Not only do we live in a much smaller home now, but we are oh, so ready to shed, declutter, and lighten up, giving us both the appearance of a new beginning, as well as the space and the emotional energy to live anew. To be open to the new, instead of attached to whatever has cluttered, not only our homes, but our hearts and our minds.

That, of course, is the real purpose of decluttering--to let go of what no longer serves us well, of what impedes us from being the person we were created to be. Dealing with all the physical stuff in our lives is important, but it is not enough. 

What is cluttering and burdening our hearts and minds?

I am reminded of what one of my favorite spiritual guides, Mark Nepo, says on the subject of decluttering and letting go in his book, The Book of Awakening. He tells the story of a friend preparing to paint his family room. He mixed the paint outside and then loaded himself with everything he needed to begin painting. You can guess what happened. He struggled to get the door open and in the process spilled the gallon of red paint. 

          It's such a simple thing, but in a moment of ego we

          refuse to put down what we carry in order to open the

          door. Time and time again, we are offered the chance

          to truly learn this: We cannot hold on to things and 

          enter. We must put down what we carry, open the

          door, and then take up only what we need to bring

          inside. p. 3

The spiritual writer Joyce Rupp refers to this time of year as a time of "freshness," a time when we are encouraged to let go of old hurts and fears; feelings of failure and weakness or of the old stories dwelt on for far too long. She quotes the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins, "There lies the dearest freshness deep down things." and then Rupp goes on to say,

          Freshness. That's it. That is what this new year is 

          offering me as I pray to God of my life this sparkling

          morning. God is holding out a freshness of life to me.

          God is offering me a new beginning with this new 

          year.

                                Fresh Bread And Other Gifts of Spiritual

                                Nourishment, p. 19

As we declutter our homes and attempt to live simpler, easier lives, what I think we are moving towards is that feeling of freshness, like putting fresh sheets on the bed or eating fresh grapefruit in the morning or looking out into the fresh morning sunshine even on a below zero day. We yearn to see life with a fresh perspective and to live with fresh pep in our steps. We want to freshen up! 

Freshness comes when we forgive ourselves and others, when we move through and beyond the ways we restrict ourselves, when we recognize what is stale in our inner lives and needs to be tossed. Along with freshness comes deeper and wider compassion or as Nepo says, "our heart becomes our skin." (The Endless Practice, Becoming Who You Were Born to Be, p. 119)

Call it decluttering or downsizing or call it creating freshness. Whatever you call it, make 2015 a year when you open the door and cross the threshold holding only what you need. 

An Invitation

What areas of your inner life need decluttering and where does your life need freshening? What are your plans for bringing freshness into your life? I would love to know. 

          

Thursday's Reflection: Ending the Day

Putting the House to Bed

My mother often said as she got older it took her longer and longer to get ready for bed. She had lovely skin and took good care of it, but that caretaking involved more and more products and steps with each year. She followed her end of the day routine faithfully, however, and she looked younger than her years, which was important to her. 

My father, who is 91, reads two pages of Luther's Catechism http://bookofconcord.org/lc-1-intro.php every night. Recently, he has started reading them out loud to himself. I have no idea how many times he has completed the book--how pleased Martin Luther would be--but he says he learns and absorbs something new each time. 

I like turning on the nightstand lamp before the bedroom is engulfed in darkness, but I delay lowering the blinds till just before going to bed. Winter nights I get into pajamas and robe and slippers soon after supper, preparing myself for an evening of cozy reading or watching television. Then when sleeps begins to overcome me, I am ready for bed. I may read a bit more in bed, but more often these days once I am in bed I close my eyes and say my final prayers of the day.

What signals your end of the day? Do you have a routine that leads you to bedtime and a night's rest? Are there tasks that are part of bringing the day to its conclusion? What brings you comfort at the end of the day? 

Benjamin Franklin started his day by asking himself, "What good shall I do this day?" and ended it with the follow-up question, "What good have I done today?" 

Just imagine what could happen in our world if we each held those two questions within our hearts and acted upon them each day? Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com in her book The Cup of Our Life, A Guide for Spiritual Growth suggests we "wrap the day with the ribbon of prayer," using the following questions as a guide:
       1. How open or aware was I to the presence of God in my 
           day?
       2. What kind of nourishment did I receive?
           What kind of nourishment did I give?
       3. Does anything need to be emptied out in order for me to be
           at peace tonight?
       4. For what do I thank God as I prepare to enter into sleep?
                                                                  pages 17-18

The theological term for looking back over the day is called "examen," which is identifiable with an examination, but without the academic context. Richard J. Foster in his classic Prayer, Finding the Heart's True Home, http://richardjfoster.com/books/ says an examen is an "accurate assessment of the true situation." (p, 27) 

One of the values of developing the practice of examen is to become more aware, more awake as we move through our days from the beginning to the end when our head hits the pillow. Along with noticing the extraordinary in the ordinary, knowing that the examen part of the day is approaching, we are encouraged to remember, to hold onto what has touched us during the day. The process and gift of remembering the present is a valuable practice as we get older and tend to focus more on the past. 

Do we notice the flock of geese overhead? Do we enjoy the young child in the grocery cart ahead of us who tries to get our attention? How present are we to the neighbor on our sidewalk as we unload our groceries? What does the air feel like as we bring in the mail?  Do the leaves appear less green and more gold and red today? 

Who needs our touch today? Our voice? Our thoughts and prayers? 

Foster points out that using the examen, and there are many forms with varying questions to use in your private examination, http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/ is a way to go deeper within to your true self, using the outward experiences of the day. That may sound very self-absorbed, but Foster says, "No, it is not a journey into ourselves that we are undertaking but a journey through ourselves so that we can emerge from the deepest level of the self into God. As Saint John Chrysostom notes, 'Find the door of your heart, you will discover it is the door of the kingdom of God.'" (p. 32) 

Here's what Thich Nhat Hanh http://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/ says in Present Moment, Wonderful Mment, Mindfulness Verses for Daily Living, "We can begin practice beginning anew at any moment of our lives…When we look deeply, we see that beginning anew is possible at any time of our daily lives, at any age." (p. 110)

He opens his meditation on ending the day this way:
          
          The day is ending,
          our life is one day shorter.
          Let us look carefully
          at what we have done.
          Let us practice diligently,
          putting our whole heart into the path of meditation.
          Let us live deeply each moment in freedom,
          so time does not slip away meaninglessly. 

One of my favorite end of the day prayers is from Illuminata, A Return to Prayer by Marianne Williamson: http://www.marianne.com
     
         Dear God,,
         I surrender to You the day now over.
         May only the love remain.
         Take all else into the fire of Your transformative power.
         Release me, release others from any effects of my
              wrongmindedness or wrongdoing.
         Dear God,
         Return me to Your light.
         As I now give to You who I am, what I did, who I loved, 
               who I failed to love, please make all things right.
         Take all things.
         May I continue to grow in Your light and love.
         Tomorrow my I be better.
         Amen. 

My post last Thursday, "Beginning the Day", offered possibilities for starting the day with a practice of prayer. May I suggest doing the same at the end of the day, creating spiritual bookends for your day. 


An Invitation
What is your night time settling in routine? Does it include a looking back, a letting go, and a moving forward? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Reflection: Walking

Last evening I grabbed my cane and headed out the door for a walk around the neighborhood. A simple pleasure, which I have missed, and now am grateful I can add back into my life. My intention now is to expand the circuit in order to build strength and stamina and to restore a normal walking gait and pace. Besides, this is my neighborhood now and I want to know it better.  As I locked the door, I heard the chimes from Nativity Church just a couple blocks away. A blessing for "ready, set, go." 

Walking as Pilgrimage
What if I treated my neighborhood walks as a kind of pilgrimage?  What would that mean and how would that feel? For a pilgrim the journey is what is most important, not the destination.  On a pilgrimage one is encouraged to pay greater attention to the path beneath one's feet, and as I regain easier walking ability, I realize how focused I am now on the physical act of walking. I don't have the same rhythm I once took for granted. Now I must pay greater attention to the path itself, including the changes in the sidewalk levels and what is just ahead that could trip me up. I am conscious of how fast (Actually "fast" is not in my vocabulary these days!) or how slow I am going, and I tell myself to bend at the heel and not shuffle and to work at eliminating the limp and shuffle, which have almost become habit. 

Stop, Notice, Bless
I thought about a book by Joyce Rupp about her 37-day pilgrimage along the Camino De Santiago in Spain. The book is called Walk in a Relaxed Manner, which is the just right description of how I need to walk right now. I walk much slower than I have in the past and at times that is frustrating, especially when I am walking with someone else, and they either sprint ahead of me or I sense how hard it is for them to slow down, in order to stay connected with me. Walking by myself, strolling, taking on the aspect of a flaneur, the French word for stroller or saunterer, being relaxed, I only need to be conscious of my own ability and needs. I am a lone pilgrim. 

Last night I intentionally stopped when I glimpsed a vignette of beauty. For example, I noticed the way some people had planted not only their front yards, but also the sections between sidewalk and street. In Ohio they call those "tree lawns." I love that name. I noticed iris beginning to bloom and peonies, too, and I wonder if the artist blue hydrangeas Bruce has planted at our house have given pleasure to other passers-by. The homes with passionate gardeners are evident, and I hope there is a time when I spot them weeding or watering or wandering in their gardens that I can compliment them for all they have created.

I also stopped in front of homes that look lonely, neglected, unkempt and forgotten and wondered about the story behind the front door. I offered a simple blessing that all may be well. 

When we first moved to Shaker Heights, Ohio, I enjoyed taking early evening walks when inside lights were just being turned on, and families were transitioning from life out in the world to life back home. I wondered in which home my new, but yet unknown, new friend lived and when we would meet each other. I was lonely, but hopeful. I had similar thoughts last evening, but with more wonder than desperation, for our life here is a return. We are in our book's next chapter, instead of starting a whole new book, and while I am open to the new, I have a base here, a loving and welcoming base from which to build. Still, I sense promise as I walk past these sweet houses where young children are being tucked into bed and dishes are being cleared from the table and stories from the day are being shared. Early on this walk I spotted two teenage girls, long legs, long hair, sitting on top of a garage roof. The contrast between me, the old limping lady, and these young, fearless girls, was startling and amusing, and I offered them a blessing for a safe, but adventurous summer. 

Soon I was back home, but I had walked a bit longer, a bit further than my previous neighborhood walk, and I hope to expand my territory with each walk. How happy I was to walk up the few steps to our front door, to greet the three baby robins, fluffy and prehistoric looking, awaiting Mama's return to the dead pansy basket nest with more food, and then to unlock the door and step inside to our sweet home. A pilgrimage leads one to the sacred, and that is how this felt to me. For a short time at least I was a pilgrim, seeing what is sacred, moving from mindless to mindful, soulless to soulful. I felt blessed. 

A Pilgrimage Blessing
May flowers spring up where your feet touch the earth.
May the feet that walked before you bless your every step.
May the weather that's important be the weather of your heart.
May all of your intentions find their way into the heart of God.
May your prayers be like flowers strewn for other pilgrims.
May your heart find meaning in unexpected events.
May friends who are praying for you carry you along the way.
May friends who are praying for you be carried in your heart.
May the circle of life encircle you along the way.
May the broken world ride on your shoulders.
May you carry your joy and your grief and in the backpack of your soul.
May you remember all the circles of prayer throughout the world. 
                                    Macrina Wiederkehr 

An Invitation
I invite you to walk as a pilgrim--wherever you walk and no matter the distance. I would love to know what you learn and feel and experience. 

Tuesday's Reflection: The Lure of the Lamp

I love coming downstairs on these dark mornings and turning on the kitchen desk lamp. For just an instant I stand in the glow of a little circle of light. It is still dark outside and in the rest of the house, but right there in that sheltered space, there is light. 

Just enough light to remind me of the light to come.

"Holy Dark"
Joyce Rupp O.S.M in her book Little Pieces of Light, Darkness and Personal Growth calls the kind of darkness that is essential for our growth "holy dark." That's how the early morning dark into light feels to me. 

That one light is a reminder to me to get quiet, listen to the inner promptings. It is in the little circle of light that I meditate and pray. I write. I read. I sit in silence. It is in the little circle of light where there is shelter for deep conversations and connection. The lit lamp reminds me of the inner light that never goes out, even when I may feel overwhelmed by darkness. Light follows the dark. 

And it always does. 

Rituals of Light and Dark
I recall my mother's habit of turning a light on in the bedroom she shared with my father in the early evening or late afternoon during the dark months, and when I was still living at home or in later years if I was visiting, she turned on a lamp in my bedroom as well. When I finally ascended the stairs to my room, the light would be waiting for me, welcoming me and protecting me as I moved into the darkness. That lamp on my dresser symbolized her love for me. I felt loved. 

Now if I stay with my father, I try to remember to turn on a light in his room before he goes to bed. And at home, even though I know it isn't energy efficient, I always leave a lamp on in our bedroom, so whenever my husband or I enter that room, a sign of protection and welcome and love greets us. I think Mom would approve. 


Sometimes during the day the house flashes with light. When potential buyers come to view the house, the routine is to turn on every single light in the house, per realtor instructions.  No matter the time of day or if the sun is blazing. My husband resists this ritual and suggests the realtor can turn on the lights when she/he arrives, but I think the house with all its lights on welcomes its guests and says, "This is a safe place. This is a place where you can create your own light." At other times I imagine someone walking by our house at night and seeing light in the upstairs bedroom window or downstairs in the den or living room. How could anyone not think, "Cozy, peaceful, comfortable"?

Later as one of the last acts of the days I walk through the house turning off each of the lamps which have kept me in the light throughout the day. I put the house to bed before I put myself to bed, trusting that light will follow the darkness. 

And it always does. 

A Gift
                    Turning on the Light

          Without this darkness--no awareness of light.
          Without this light--no awareness of darkness.
           In the flickering of the flame,
           in the delicate filament of the bulb
           is the light that is also the dark,
           the dark that is also the light.

           I shall never understand this mystery.
           Light and dark are somehow the same.
           I want not to prefer one over the other
           but to appreciate their unique
           and simultaneous truth. 

           Now light. Now dark. The switch turns,
           the wick catches fire. In that split second
           dark and light are one
           as is everything in the universe.
                                  Gunilla Norris 
                                  Being Home, A Book of Meditations

An Invitation
How comfortable are you in the dark? How do you create light in the darkness? What are your rituals of light and dark? I look forward to your comments.

I'm a Bag Lady!, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

I have a bag for every purpose: bags for grocery shopping and a heavy basket with leather handles for going to the farmers' market on Saturday morning; bags for each of my writing projects and an empty bag with "Paris" written on its side, perfect to toss a couple magazines, a book, maybe stationery for letter writing to have on a plane or the car or in a cafe. I have bags awaiting a specific purpose, big, small, fancy or simple. Some with memories of the gift-giver. Some pure luxury. 
     Years ago I participated on a variety of committees and boards and had a bag for each one. I would check my Franklin Planner (Remember that popular organizer?) each night and see what was on the schedule for the next day and set aside the appropriate bag. Social Ministry Committee. Church Council. Summit Hill House Tour. The system worked well for me.
     Now I live in two places--Madison and St Paul. Bags are definitely required. Our house is on the market and when a showing occurs I turn on all the lights and grab a bag and leave. I play my own version of the childhood memory game we used to play at Brownie meetings. "I'm going to my grandmother's house and in my bag (suitcase) I packed..." 
     Recently, my car was broken into and my purse, which I had UNWISELY left in the back seat while a friend and I enjoyed a river view and deep conversation, was stolen. One of those pure luxury bags. Money, credit cards, drivers license--all gone in 10 seconds the police officer said. Since then I have been dealing with the aftermath of this theft. Most everyone I have contacted has been helpful and empathic, except the one credit card person who asked me if I was having a nice day after I told her I was calling to report a stolen card (!!!).  
     The aftermath, however, involves much more than the financial loss and complications.  I have lost some confidence in my urban smarts and in my view of myself as someone who thinks ahead and considers carefully my current context. I am embarrassed and have even felt shame, especially when someone tells me what I should have done. I feel guilt for needing my husband's help during his busy day and also for marring the visit from an out of state friend. I feel more anger with myself, interestingly, than with the unknown person who did the deed. I feel flawed and inadequate. I messed up. What could I have been thinking? Well, clearly, I wasn't thinking.
     The first couple nights after the incident I replayed what I should have done over and over again. I told a friend I wasn't going to beat myself up about what had happened, but I was doing exactly that. So often when I have sat with someone in spiritual direction I have softly encouraged, "Be gentle with yourself." I forgot that wisdom when it came to myself, but I also knew I needed to explore the lessons of the stolen bag.  
     Here's what Debbie Ford in her book The Right Questions, Ten Essential Questions to Guide You to an Extraordinary Life says in the chapter titled "Will I Use this Situation as a Catalyst to Grow and Evolve or Will I Use It to Beat Myself Up?"
     We beat ourselves up by rehashing an event over and over in our mind, analyzing why we didn't do it better and how we could have done it differently We beat ourselves up by spending our precious energy trying to figure out how we could have avoided the situation altogether...we always have a choice to use each event to learn and grow or to use it against ourselves...
     Everything in this life can be used to transform us, to bring us closer to our spiritual essence and our dreams. In other words, either we are using life in our favor or we are using it against ourselves. This is what is meant by the saying 'Life is a teacher to the wise man and an enemy to the fool.' By seeing life as a teacher, we transcend the pain and suffering we put on ourselves. And then we can spend our energy creating what we want rather than wasting it by rehashing the past.
     The Right Question will immediately shift our perspective from one of self-doubt or recrimination to one of open minded learning. 
     So what am I learning? I am learning how often I beat myself up. I chastise myself when I spill something or forget something or don't use my time as well as I think I should or eat more than I should or am not present to another person or...... On and on it goes. I beat myself up when I mess up, and I mess up often. Writer Joyce Rupp reminds me to greet myself mercifully." 
     I imagine if I had been more mindful in the moment I locked the car door without taking my purse with me, I would not have found a broken window when we returned to the car and therefore, I hope I will be more mindful, more present, but the lesson right now is to remember that I am human, and humans mess up. My lesson is to do what needs to be done and move on.
     I am going to my grandmother's house and in my bag I packed forgiveness, gentleness, humility, mercy, and mindfulness. What's in your bag?