It is 4:30am, and the world around me is hushed.  I am comforted in the darkness by the darkness itself… a present friend who cloaks me and soothes the weary embers of my soul.  Some nights, like this one, I feel the world pressing upon me as I sleep, the lack of balance, the suffering, the torn pieces of living in a divided time nudge me and beg tending.  Do you feel it, too?  I’ve never been more aware of individual struggle and strife as I have in these days.  At every turn, there is need, there is pain, there is sorrow.  At every turn there is a voice crying out for compassion and ease.  We live as a collective society in this land that is so rich in many ways, and yet, as individuals, so many are simply alone.  This aloneness begs for the nurturing of the soul.  It is the commonality.  It is the common voice.  It is the thirst that is disturbing our sleep and roaming in the wind that tosses that which was once firm and steady.  Below, deeper than the most urgent need is a core entity that continues to stir and echo on the sacred wisdom found in one word:  Remember.

Oh, dear one, find your way down the spiraling staircase of distractions to the ground of your being.  There, light a candle, brew your favorite tea, and with warmth in hand, gaze into the face of that which has been calling to you, that which ever waits with love and grace to guide and inform you.  It’s so easy to forget.  We get lost in living our human existence and forget our divine origins.  We forget that we are each created in the image of God and that this God is love and light and hope. This God is present, beating in our hearts, filling our lungs with air, stirring, stirring, stirring us to reconnect with the truth of our living and the passions that fuel our loving.  Here, we can remember again.  We can remember our own beauty and gifts.  Here, we can embrace all that unnerves us, that wounds us, that frightens us, that holds us back, and in such love and attention, we are returned to our truest selves.

It takes time, the turning back to soul.  It takes courage.  It takes both strength and rest.  But as night turns to day, the morning birds are singing and something in their song encourages the journey.

When I was a kid, you know what I hated most about going to church?  Pantyhose.  Pantyhose and making sure my slip wasn’t showing.  It was especially dreadful in the summer.  Everything stuck to me, and getting out of all that was stuck on me after church made me even sweatier.  Well, today is Sunday and this was what I put on…  a tee shirt, capris jeans with paint on them, my favorite socks, and my old yard shoes.  I’ll go to ‘formal’ church later today, but for this morning, I’m going to my favorite church.  Chloe is coming with me.  Yes.  This church welcomes dogs and birds and butterflies and even ornery mosquitoes. It is where I always find God and sweetly, God always finds me.  This church is right outside my backdoor where the goldfinch and hummers have already been praising.  It’s that close.  No car keys or pantyhose required.

Where do you find God?  Isn’t it amazing how many different houses of worship there are and how many forms of worship there are?  I was smiling as I was thinking of this as Chloe and I walked to pick wildflowers.  Somewhere there are folks attending Catholic mass and down the road from me there are small country churches where the women wear their best Sunday hats and fans will be in the pews as the singing and dancing heats the place up!  There are some churches where someone will be moved by yelling from the pulpit, and some places where silence is always the most profound speaker. In some church traditions, kneeling is the custom when praying.  In other churches there will be waving hands and languages spoken unknown to many.  These are all out of the Christian tradition.  I have no idea what beautiful traditions are in place in Buddhist temples, Jewish synagogues, or Islamic or Hindu gatherings.  But what I do know is this…

God is here.  God is present.  God is listening and loving you.   Face down on the floor, twirling around under skies of blue.  Within walls or outside.  Within the framework of traditional religious practices or riding the wave of spontaneous delight.  Clapping or crying.  Working.  Resting.  In hospital rooms.  At the local homeless shelter.  In the homes where faith practices are rarely discussed.  In every question.  In every doubt.  In every rejection of the institution of church because that institution caused more pain and sorrow than joy.  You can know God or not know God, but I believe that God knows you, that God knows me, and we are judged only by the truth we try so desperately to live and by the love we always yearn to share.

If someone asks you, “Do you have a personal relationship with God,” say yes.  Always say yes… because it’s about the personal part.  How can it be personal if you are told how, when, where, and why to go about it?  The way to know and love God is to live and love.  Over and over again… live your truth and love.  If we are indeed made in the image of God and God is love… then everything we need we already have.

It’s so not complicated.  Humans make all of this complicated.  I guess that’s why God made nature and silence… so we can just slip away time to time and go deeper than words.  I am thankful you are in the world.  I am thankful for who you are… whether you are just like me or vastly different. 

And on this Sabbath morning, I wanted you to know that as I notice the ripples down my lane from the pouring rain last night,

as I thrill over the light in the trees,

and as I arrange the black-eyed susans with the queen anne’s lace…

I am hoping something will stir you.  I am hoping that God will aide you in claiming your own voice, your own yearnings, and your path to God’s doorstep.  I trust that it is closer than realized.

I trust that going to church begins in the heart… so follow that.

On this lovely Friday morning, I realized that these words are on my mind today:

I MISS YOU!  Naturally, I tried to figure out who it is that I miss, and as I’ve pondered this, I’ve come to realize I miss many people.  Some are here on this earth, and some are now in the light of the Spirit.  Some are within reach and some are thousands of miles away.  Some are very much in my life, but not present to what we share (or is it I who is not present fully?)  What I am also realizing is that what I am feeling isn’t about sadness.  It’s about goodness.  When I say or feel that I miss you… it’s about missing what is good and beautiful and powerful between us.  I am missing all that is wonderful in what we share or in what we once shared.  I MISS YOU… is an empowering place of vulnerability.

I MISS YOU is also about me.  It’s about realizing there are spaces me that have overgrown with weeds.  It’s about pulling weeds and rediscovering fertile ground that has been dormant, yet so, so rich.  It’s about opening up spaces that have been closed down.  It’s about rekindling past dreams and hopes alongside of the current ones.  It’s about letting go of all that makes me less than and embracing all that makes me more of.  It’s about shaking hands with the soul of me… the soul that is simply my own fingerprints of living.

And on underneath all of the missing is another voice.  That voice is God’s voice.  And I can hear God saying, “I MISS YOU.”  This has made me realize one other thing about these words.  Sometimes they are said to pour on guilt.  Sometimes I MISS YOU is translated or interpreted as you’ve messed up, you haven’t been here, you are not meeting my need.  But… when God says, “I miss you,” there’s none of that.  Oh, no.  When God speaks these words the message always is… “Ah, go ahead, honey, and live your life.”  Or something like, “Don’t hold back, sweet pea!  I made you for more!!”  Or maybe it sounds like, “Want to have some fun?  Wait for it… trust… but don’t settle for less than abundant life!”  When God says, “I MISS YOU,” it’s God’s own way of reminding us we are created in the image of love and the possibilities of reconnecting with our purest selves is always within reach.  We are created out of mystery and delight… for mystery and delight!

Who do you miss today?  What places are tugging at your heart as it fills with tenderness and perhaps melancholy?  What is speaking through these feelings, thoughts, and words?  Stand open and ready to the miraculous teachings of missing… and lean into all that is meant for you.

Do you sometimes wake up disgruntled?  There are times when life is smooth as silk and we move along effortlessly and peacefully.  Then there are times when we can clearly name that which is causing a pain in our behinds, and while there is a pain… we can name it and either learn to live with it or do the best we can to change or absolutely embrace the circumstances.  What woke me up and disgruntled me today is the fact that I’m thirsting for some semblance of order in my life.  Huh?  Yeah, I know.  I love being this free spirit and marching to my own drum most of the time, but today I just wanted to wake up with a plan.  I want to know where I stand and what the next best step is and how the best way to take that next step might be.  I’d really like to know where I’m headed.  Chances are, in this crazy time in our world, we’d all like a crystal ball moment.

But, guess what?  No fortune telling around here.  So… I did what I know.  Laundry.  Dishes.  Feeding the birds and my Chloe girl.  Making lists.  Hauling the trash.  Oh, yes.  You’ve heard me speak of hauling the trash before.  And, oh, yes, stinky, stinky, stinky.  And as a matter of fact, the bottom bag in the outside trash bin was covered in future maggots.  Dis-gus-ting!!!!  Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.  But, as always, I threw Chloe in the car, grabbed my camera, and got going.  And as usual, I was in a hurry to get there due to the stench, but once the car was unloaded, my franticness stilled.  What really caught my attention on the ride home was this sign:

Wow.  Look at that.  That’s my life!  Not here to there in a straight line, but curvy and vivacious and unexpected… the road of my life is to get there when you arrive!!  Oh, and check that out.  The speed limit drops to 35.  If one travels from point A to point B via the straight route… then full speed ahead.  If, however, you are on a meandering path where you never really know what’s around the next bend… do yourself a favor and slow down.  Hear that?  Slow down.  Why do I resist?  What do I feel the urge to be productive in every moment?  Isn’t slowing down productive?  Umm... the answer is... a big, fat yes!!


And so, I took the sign’s advice and slowed my car to below the speed limit.  I pulled over time and again so others in their hurry could pass me.  I traveled at the speed of a starling (yes, we went along together and I checked to see how fast he was flying!  He was going about 18 mph.)  Soon I was discovering more and more life, both outside of the car and within it.  Soon everything was teaching me, encouraging me, helping me to make peace with life just as it is today.  Want to see?

All along the way, Chloe and I observed life, and none of it seemed in a hurry to be in a different place or to be transformed into some other way of living.  The wheat grew.  The stream lulled.  The blackbird sat at the top of the tree just soaking in the view.  The old barn grew beautifully so day by day.  And the wild daisies and roses happily decorated the sides of the road.

The tiger lilies are blooming now.  It won't be long before they rest for another year, but for today their job is to be open and to share colorful joy.  Upon our arrival home, this squirrel greeted us.  Most often, squirrels are on the move... busy, anxious, in a hurry to find their next nut.  I guess this one found one in me.  So, we chatted a bit.. Chloe and I from the car and he from the tree.  And before I knew it, I was laughing, Chloe was barking and the squirrel decided these nuts were best left alone.

Some days, we've just got to be... not about productivity or profit or fame... just about tending to the sweet slowness of growing and unfolding.

Some days, the only way to find out who we are and where we are going is to stand in our own field and see what's here.