Memories: Tuesday's Reflection

Meet Bennett. He is the almost one year old son of our niece Stephanie and her husband Justin. Pretty cute, huh?

We have not had the pleasure of a baby in the house for a long time, and as he walked on tiptoes around the coffee table or ottoman, I felt a surge of memories. Memories when our own children were babies. 

How sweet was the "mmmm" sound as his mother spooned food into his mouth or the light squeals as he turned page after page in a favorite book or the slap, pat, slap, pat on the wood floors as he crawled from dining room to living room. Baby sounds. 

My body remembered the post-nap cuddling and the feel of a small head under my neck just before bedtime. I felt my mind returning to a state of alertness, always aware of what our babies were doing or needing--or about to do or need. 

Throughout the weekend Bruce and I shared stories with these young parents--the waves of nostalgia were almost tangible. How pleasant to revisit the treasures of those earlier days through the gifts of the present moment. 

Macrina Wiederkehr in her book Gold In Your Memories calls these times "sacred moments, glimpses of God." and suggests ways to mine the gold of our memories:

              ...you will need to spend a lot of time with

              your soul. The soul thrives on remembering...

              there are soul prints in every fiber of your being, 

              even in the things you've forgotten. The soul is

              the keeper of memories. She knows where beauty

              is stored.  p. 13

Obviously, not all memories are happy. Some memories are not  golden. Joan Chittister points out, "Without memory we could go blithely on in life without ever really knowing what of that life was still unfinished, was still rumbling around inside of us, waiting for attention." Sometimes memory is the impetus to do the work of healing, releasing us from the trap memories can be. Instead memories can strengthen us, even open us even more to the present.

Having Bennett and his parents, such good parents, here allowed me to access a part of my life--not to dwell in it, but to remind me of its place in my life, my whole life. More words from Chittister:

                The wonder of being able to see life as whole,

                at any time and all times, is the great gift of memory.

                It makes all of life a piece in progress. With one

                part of the soul in the past and another in the present,

                we are able to go on stitching together a life that

                has integrity and wholeness. Because of memory life 

                is not simply one isolated act after another. It all

                fits into the image of self and the goals of the 

                heart. It makes them real. It makes them whole.

                                    p. 155 The Gift of Years

The present moment is a threshold to remembering, just as memories can heighten our ability to treasure the present moment.

An Invitation

What recent event or conversation has opened a door to memory for you? 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: 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.