There are too many soldiers fighting in too many places to name.  And there are too many families who miss these soldiers and too many families who grieve those who have died.  Our soldiers fight soldiers of other families who miss and grieve.  And round and round it turns.

On this Memorial Day, I’d like to say I’m sorry.  I’m sorry to every soldier who willingly sacrifices in the name of those they love and in the name of strangers like me.  I’m sorry that I am a peacemaker who has yet to figure out how to end wars.  Lots of peacemakers will tell you as a soldier that you are wrong… that you are wrong for bearing arms, for killing others, for trying to evoke peace by making war.  But this language, this ~ you are wrong and I am right mentality~ is how wars begin.  And, I’m sorry we’ve yet to figure this out.

We know how to do war.  We’ve done it over and over and over again.  What we just don’t know how to do is peace.  It seems the ‘bad guys’ always provoke us to fight.  When it comes to protecting those we love and places we love, we ultimately just have to be stronger and carry the biggest sticks.  It’s what we’ve done since caveman days.  Some will say that it works, and indeed, America is still a land of the free.  But we’re not truly free because our children die in military uniforms long before their rightful time.  We’re not truly free, because we are slaves to war, lost because we’ve yet to end all wars.  We’re not truly free, because there is blood on our hands just as much as there is blood on theirs.

And I am sorry.  My heart breaks that you are there doing what you believe in… in the best ways, the most honorable ways you know how… and people dismiss you and disrespect you because your paths to peace seem not so peaceful.  It is hard to understand how the Good Book tells us over and over again not to kill… and yet we do so… with guns, with words, with every division we support.  We are all guilty of perpetuating divisions.

And so tonight, as I go to bed without fear, as I go to sleep free to live the life I choose and love the God I choose to love, I will pray for all of us this Memorial Day week-end.  I will pray that we might remember we all come into the world the same way and that one day each of us will pass to another life.  I will pray that we might remember we’re all covered in skin, we all walk beneath a heavenly sky, we all dream, we all love.  And indeed, we all yearn for peace to prevail.  I don’t want to fight about fighting.  I don’t want to fight about peace. I simply want to love to encourage more loving.  I want to let you know that I’m trying to learn how I contribute to the causes of violence and war and that in my learning, something begins to yield, something begins to aid in the healing of what has long been broken.  I pray for every peacemaker and for every soldier who lay down their lives in order for another one to live.  I pray that peace imbues every heart and teaches us the way.  My hand is on the heart beneath the uniform, the heart beneath the tie-dyed shirt, the heart beneath all fear and anger and retaliation.  And as I place my hand upon my own heart, I pray we all meet one another here… in this place, this place of deep knowing and divine loving.  May this be the memorial we leave to the coming years.

Wow.  It was a big week in the life of Oprah.  She was honored like any royalty, like any giant, political or otherwise, like a true superstar.  It had to be fun, all that honor and glory, for doing good work, for persevering, for having millions of dollars to share with millions of people all the while living a wealthy life herself.  That has to be one.  fun.  life.

I’m sure those around her would also say how hard and tirelessly she has worked, and I do believe that is true.  When someone gets in touch with what brings them to life, it is hard not to give into the thrill as much one’s body can endure!  Oprah found a way or was lucky enough to have a way come to her or bumped into the right people and connections that opened up this path on which she could BOTH serve the public AND live a life of ease.  Don’t we all wish to be so fortunate?

As Oprah’s 25 years as a talk show host closed with her big season finale, I was driving home from work.  As I was driving, I was aware that I was missing this huge event… one that made the evening news and one that was compared to the likes of Walter Cronkite signing off and the series MASH coming to a close.  I was missing it.  And then, I looked around me, and I realized lots of us were missing it.  The road crew sweating their heads off as they put down new asphalt.  The moms driving carpool.  The cop handing out the ticket to the teen driver.  The scores of teachers who have wrangled students all day and are driving home with not a clue as to what they will cook for dinner for their family tonight.  The guy with the pink slip.  The local-mart greeter.  Missed it.  Missed it.  Missed it.

Some of us are doing what we love.  Some of us have a fair amount of money.  But how many of us are not worrying for a moment about the next bill AND passionate about the life we are living?  It sure seems to me that there are a lot more of us who are doing the either/or rather than the both/and.  If someone can explain this to me, I’d sure like to understand it all better.  My heartfelt wish, and the wish of what I think also belongs to millions of people, is the ability to live an authentic life while serving others while also making ends meet.  Someday, I’d like to see the Grand Canyon and Italy and Alaska.  I’d love to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my living somehow made life sweeter and more beautiful for another.  And I’d be happy to know that if the refrigerator dies, I won’t have to get used to buying ice for the cooler on a daily basis.

We’re not Oprah and chances are pretty high that we’re not going to live like Oprah.  Yeah, bummer, I know.  But here’s our guarantee… here’s what we are promised by this life that is more than money and fame.  We have it all.  No matter what.  We have it all.  We have it all the moment we realize it.  Yes.  We have BIG struggles.  Yes.  There are people who have more than we.  Yes.  There are people with much less than we.  Yes.  It could be better or it could be much worse.  Yes.  This life, this life that we are each living is ours.  Love it or hate it or don’t give a flip.  Choose.  But this life is the greatest gift we’ve each been given.  Pay attention to all that you don’t have and wish to have… but honor what you do have.  Don’t even try to be someone who you are not.  BE YOU.  Live you.  Love you.  And carry on, my friends.  The season finale for each of us is when today turns to yesterday, and we missed it.  Show up to THIS party, and we are guaranteed our very own place in the world.  If you are feeling not so rich and not so famous, I hope you’ll call me because I want to speak to you the power of your own name.  YOU ARE ENOUGH.  YOU ARE WORTHY OF JOY.  YOU ARE MORE PRECIOUS THAN YOU EVER IMAGINED.  And today, I’m claiming this for all of us as we live our spectacularly ordinary lives.

Have you noticed that we live in times that seem so hard?  There are the daily reports of weather related disasters, and the ongoing stream of prayer requests for loved ones who are ill.  There are the jobless and the homeless.  There are pressures streaming from every direction to be successful and competitive and above average.  And things seem so skewed regarding what and who we honor and what and who we dream of becoming.

It seems that life asks us to be tough, to keep going regardless of what heart and soul may say.  It seems that we have found ourselves in a time of gripping our fists tight, of bracing our backs and gritting our teeth in order to simply keep our balance and not get knocked down.  It’s hard to be present to others when it takes so much energy to take our own next step.  Protection.  That’s what it is.  It’s not that we’re building walls to keep pain out.  It’s that we are trying to protect ourselves from too much pain.  Better not let that guard down.  Better to keep our shields in place and just keep walking.

There are moments, however, when whether by choice or circumstance, we find ourselves on our knees.  No more walking.  No more forward motion.  This is the time to notice what is calling to us, what is speaking louder than the thunderous voices that yell “Get up!”  We have dirt on our hands from some sort of fall.  We feel rattled and shaken.  We feel vulnerable and humbled.  We find ourselves at eye level with the very core of what’s been overlooked, or ignored, or denied.  Maybe what we peer into is that tender space we’ve held at bay for too long, and now like trembling arms that have held too much weight for too long, we’ve got to yield to it.


Want to be reminded of what this moment feels like?  It feels like the edge of rain when the day is cool and grey and earth pulls at heaven.  It feels like the opening of peony petals.  It feels like luggage in the car and the embrace that is too short.  It feels like the beauty of both bedside births and bedside dyings.  It feels like the unexpected perfect timing of a friend’s call or visit when life has driven over you one too many times in one day.  It feels like graduation celebrations and birthday markings.  It feels like that close call when you realize the brevity of life.  It feels like The Velveteen Rabbit and John Denver singing “Sunshine on my Shoulders Makes Me Happy.”

It’s okay, friend.  Go soft.  Allow the dirt on your palms to linger.  Don’t stay on your knees.  Roll over and sit there.  Remember when you used to play here with the ants and grass and roly-poly bugs?   Remember when laughing and crying spilled out easily and you didn’t worry about how much you did of either?   Notice all that is here… around you and within you.  On this ordinary day, allow the tender side to break loose and be free.  Trust that there is strength in gentle tendings.  Trust that softness is a muscle.  Notice that bending does not necessitate breaking.

When you do decide to rise back up, don’t close back up.  Oh, no.  Watch what happens when you carry your softness with you, when you speak with ease and care, when you slow down, when you reach out.  Watch what happens when you relax your jaw and your eyes and your shoulders.  Is it frightening?  It certainly can be.  But then isn’t it time to exchange the burden of ease with the joy of living fully?  Ahh.  Go ahead.  Lay down your shield and put your thrill on.  Softness always, ultimately serves the greater good.  And it’s always there, softness, ready to serve us, to bless us.  Hey, when was the last time you fell and braced the landing with closed fists?

I heard a story once about a school where each teacher was given a small bucket.  This bucket was to hang outside of their classroom door.  The hope and the good intention behind this idea was that the bucket would be filled by good-hearted co-workers.  Just drop in a little note of encouragement or bits of chocolate or simple little surprises that might keep spirits up and all those inner buckets filled.  (Imagine teachers with full inner buckets… no telling what might awaken in every classroom!!)

Sadly what actually happened was that the buckets hung empty.  Those who needed to have their own buckets filled discovered the additional task of filling a co-worker’s bucket virtually impossible.  Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, and as this time passed, some teachers quietly turned their buckets over because it was too hard to see the visual emptiness every single day.  I heard that the upside down buckets were righted over time, but only that… not filled, not made purposeful except for the measure of this observation.

I no longer have a standard classroom door.  I say standard because I believe every door opens to new learnings and new teachings.  But I do have a bucket, a big, red bucket.  I haul water in it to nourish plants.  I carry dirt in it from one location to the next.  When I ever get around to washing my car, I fill it with white soapy water that morphs into ugly grey sludge by the end of that event. But what I most love my red bucket for is carrying wildflowers.  It’s a perk that comes from living in the country.  It’s a prize that is offered for getting one’s butt in gear and taking those healthy walks that so easily get put off!  Walk with a bucket and a small pair of shears, and the return trip home becomes a filling!  Purple clover, daisies, honeysuckle, wild roses, and often flowers that I cannot name come along for the joy of riding in the red bucket!

Today as I filled my bucket, I thought of so many people, like my teaching friends, who need tending.  And so, for what it’s worth, I’d snip a wildflower and I’d say their names.  I’d bend down low and rise with flower in hand to look toward sky with prayers of thanksgiving.  I smelled the honeysuckle and imagined sweetness for all who struggle.  I filled my red bucket with colors of the most delicate palate and whispered those colors to the passing breeze that they might be carried on and glide into the open windows where school children learn.  I don’t know how loving thoughts change the world, how God moves, how goodness grows, but I do know that buckets were made to be filled.

If your bucket is empty today, perhaps that is just how it is.  And perhaps you need to find your own special way of filling that bucket.  Perhaps you need not wait on another to do so.  But in the meantime, while you are pondering what might fill you with gladness as you fill that bucket, I encourage you to look at all that you don’t see inside of the emptiness.  Is there emptiness there, is there nothing or is there something… something yet discovered, something yet born?  Could it be that what you don’t see is as important as what could be seen?  Is there the remotest possibility that what your empty bucket actually holds is an opening for love, for prayer, for grace?  Good buckets are wide open… and that’s the greatest gift, wouldn’t you say?

The day began with sunlight on the woods full of green, and the chickadee parents flitting back and forth to feed their little ones.  It is quiet here, and all that we need, in the truest sense of the word, we have.

There are other places and people who suffer.  There are many who are hungry, who are bleeding, who are afraid.  There are injustices at every turn.  We each suffer our own, and yet, there are always those in greater need, always those who remind us to complain not.  The burden of bliss is that our own joy is does not necessarily birth the joy for others.

Our birthright, as human beings, is that we are called to be accountable to and for one another.  Our greatest blessing and most important task on this earth is to love.  The Good Book says… without love we are nothing.  And how do we know this is true?  We know because the lack of love perpetuates the ongoing cycles of destruction.  Children who are not loved as children should be loved grow into adults who wreak havoc on themselves and those whom they love. Over and over again, we are witness to this.  And what of those who have known holy love, yet something within them blocks the positive effects of such?  Many illnesses prevent the wellness and indeed wholeness of the mind, body, and spirit.  Have we yet to fully understand this?   Are we not yet interested in seeking underlying truths that could beget less violence and more love?

I shall not celebrate nor call it victory when even the most lost of souls is killed.  I will mourn.  I will mourn the fact that when this terrorist dies, he dies a death at our own hand and by our own choosing.  We choose over and over again to ignore what needs tending.  We choose to prioritize wealth, competition, and ambition over relationships… deep, meaningful relationships.  What happens when the one who feels invisible is seen?  What happens when the one fighting on the playground finds a gentle arm around those inner wounds?  What happens when the poor, the hungry, the abused, the marginalized are no longer service projects but our friends, our family?  What happens when those who cause the greatest injury are viewed not as the ones to get rid of but as our greatest teachers?

Are there set answers?  I’m not sure.  It’s easy for me to speak of peace as I live in peace.  It’s easy for me to love as I have been loved.  It’s easy for me to feel sad for this recent death as I have not been in mourning for ten years.  And yet, I somehow feel that the world would be a step closer towards peace if we bowed our heads today, reached out to someone who angers or hurts us, and offered our most authentic love in ways that can be felt and understood.  We don’t have to travel great distances or have lots of money in order to evoke the small, powerful changes we all pray will occur.  There is someone very close to each of us who could use our love.  Let this day be the day to begin.  Love, love in the purest sense, in the most holy of intentions, grows pure, holy love.  It’s all we’ve got, really.  And it’s really what we need.