Spiritual Ponderings for a Good Life

Good Friday Clouds

3/25/2016

It never surprises me to rise on a Good Friday morning and open my blinds to a cloudy sky. Since I was a teenager, this is how I remember Good Fridays. And rightfully so, wouldn’t you agree. The saddest day in the Christian year should be cloudy. I’ve always found it comforting to attend funerals in the rain. All those God tears running with our own and pooling at our feet. That just says to my heart that God understands our pain and our grief.

And in the midst of the bright yellow daffodils and the green, green of grass that I have been yearning for all winter, it is really okay with me to embrace this grey, wet day as a measure of love and attention. Lots of people have heavy hearts. People who are smiling on the outside are aching on the inside. Loved ones are fighting hard battles. And Jesus died out of love on a day just like today. Life is vastly different from Christ’s time, and yet we continue to share so much in common. I think a day like Good Friday calls us to our commonalities and reminds us that life is both fragile and strong, so let’s just be kind and patient and forgiving of one another… and love as best we can.

May the grey sadness of this day work what it needs to work within you. Holiness often comes in quiet clouds to mend, to heal, and to green up the paths of hope. Stand still and let the rain anoint and refresh your being.

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Growing Green

3/20/2016

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When did that happen? How did I miss that? Just outside of my bedroom window the sun wakes the world up to green. Just a few moments ago, my yard was grey-brown. The starkness of winter was a friend I’d grown accustomed to… steady, calm, and peaceful. But this morning, my eyes cannot believe the life pulse of green. Spring has arrived, and our souls are being reawakened to a freshness we didn’t even realize we needed.

I have been aware of the lengthening light. I have noticed the birds are singing loud and extraordinarily cheerful songs not heard a month ago. I’ve put away my heavy, dark coat, and been craving yellow and pink short sleeved shirts. But how did I miss the first blades of grass deciding to let go of what became old and juice up through their veins what is so life-giving? I say this nearly every year. It’s on my bucket list that one spring I will spend February through March journaling and photographing the greening of my grass. I want to be able to say, “On March first, this blade grass was perfectly brown from the base up. And on March 14th the base began to green. And on March 19 the green was almost all the way to the top. And on March 21 the entire blade of grass was free of brown!”

And what might happen if we noticed our own souls in such a fashion? What if we took a soul-pulse each day? Is our soul grey, brown, or yellow? Is our soul growing or stagnant? Is our soul happy, tired, or restless? Isn’t it true that the state of our world is dependent on the state of each soul? One by one, we can brighten or demolish the atmosphere around us. What nurtures us, what cares for our soul, and what our souls care about are worthy of our time and attention.

Let’s agree to focus on what matters the most. Each person, of course, needs to figure out what that is for them (and it might not be charting the greening of grass!), but staying true to this course will only benefit humankind. How can we each grow greener in our own souls to add color and life wherever we go? What fills you up, makes you laugh, lifts your face toward the sun? If you are so tired, so spent, so discouraged you don’t know, I’m guessing it’s time to take off your shoes and let your toes feel the grass. Be well, my friends. You, like the green grass, deserve to feel alive!

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Breathing

3/11/2016

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It’s not too often, but sometimes, the world frightens me. Mostly, I allow my heart and spirit to dwell in the graciousness of beauty and wholeness and possibility. I believe in a loving God, a God who believes in us as people with souls that are thirsty for goodness and compassion. I turn my eyes towards the mountains created by this God as many times a day as I can, and I remember how there is strength available, and support, even when we think it has all been depleted. I delight in quirky birdsongs and celebrate the small wonders that wait for us to find them.

But sometimes, the world frightens me, with obscure intentions meant for harm, mean-spiritedness, and tragic moments when full-of-life people die moments after their laughter filled the air. I am burdened by how easily we achieve for things and lose sight of each other. I don’t know what to do about the skewed, unhealthy perceptions of life espoused through television and media, and I am sad that we are too busy for that which begs our attention.

But today, as I sat at a stop light, I rested my eyes upon this scene, and I was comforted. I don’t know if I can fully articulate how it moved me, but there was something in the weathered spirit of the old wooden walls, the tree waiting for spring, and the steadfastness of the mountains that said, “No matter what. No matter how life plays out, there is something deeper and truer that will never falter or fail. There is life beyond the life you recognize here and so much more than you can see that will always urge life forward. Trust when you think you cannot. Love when you would rather pull inward. Show up to those in need. And when you feel most frightened, breathe in the ancient air made fresh as winter becomes spring.”

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Good Friday Clouds

Growing Green

Breathing

Kathy Guisewite

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