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Confines

11/30/2014

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Today in worship, I sat in the silence with my mind buzzing and the lists twirling.  I gazed for a long time at the stained glass image of Christ, but still too many thoughts filled my head.  And so I asked my mind to go to the field.  Go out to the snow-covered field and take it in.  As my mind followed the request, and saw the field near my home, open and wide, that spans to the rising of the mountains.  I love looking at this field every day.  And while my mind was there, taking it in, I heard this:

 

“Hold an open space in your being

like a barren field covered in snow.

Let it spill wide and long… all the way to the mountains

so that clarity may become your friend.

Deep peace will become your stance,

and there,

what you wait for

will come

or

not.

Either way, there is no need to worry.”

 

And so we stood there, my mind and I, breathing the cold air, watching the puffs return from my own lungs, and allowing the expanse to stretch me.

 

We all have confines.  We are hemmed in at every turn.  Sometimes we realize it and other times we only become aware of the barriers when we bump into them.  People put them in place on our behalf.  Cultures and organizations and politics and religions are famous for their skills with bricks.  But what I realized today is that Spirit is skilled with air and imagination and the slow steadfastness of seasons.  Spirit calls for expanse, for freedom, and for the quiet wisdom to engage in the task and craft of wholeness.

 

Today is the first Sunday in advent.  What that means for me is that it is time to attend to the season of waiting and wondering.  It is time to lay down my confines, my walls, and nestle into the dreamings of our Creator and imagine what is coming to fruition in me and in each of us.  The Christ Child came to save us from the empty lostness of self.  Plenty of doors will slam on us in this life.  Plenty of belittling whispers will sound in our ears.  Our very own guilty feelings and self-doubt easily knock us to our knees.  But then December comes, and we are invited to the edge of an open field where something precious waits to be found in us.

 

Cris Williamson’s Song of the Soul:

“Love of my life I am crying.  I am not dying; I am dancing!  Dancing along in the madness, there is no sadness, only a song of the soul.  And we’ll sing this song.  Why don’t you sing along, and we can sing for a long, long time. Why don’t you sing this song?  Why don’t you sing along?  And we can sing for a long, long time.  What do you do for a living?  Are you giving, giving shelter?  Follow your heart; love will find you, truth will unbind you and sing out a song of the soul.  And we’ll sing this song.  Why don’t you sing along, and we can sing for a long, long time.  Why don’t you sing this song?  Why don’t you sing along?  And we can sing for a long, long time.”

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Publisher's Clearing House and Birdseed

11/24/2014

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So today I went out to feed my little bird friends.  They become simply giddy when I fill the feeders, and I know this by the way they tweet their gratitude!  “You are so very welcome,” I always say as I leave.  Little wild birds have been a joy for me since I was a child.  My Mom and Dad always had feeders in the yard, most of them built by Dad.  Mom taught me that one need not always purchase birdseed as they love leftover goodies from the human’s kitchen.  That last bit of cake no one will finish… ahh, the birds will love it!  The crumbs at the bottom of the cereal bag!  Yes!  They will find the good there.  Crackers?  Of course!  They have never been picky eaters though anytime we ever put out seed with that pitiful yellow millet in it, they would just toss that to get to the good stuff!!

 

Today as I filled the feeders to the brims, I remembered a time not so long ago when I stopped feeding the birds.  I remember when I couldn’t afford birdseed, and while I could still feed myself, it wasn’t very often I had cake I could give them.  I was a well-educated, healthy, faithful woman who could not land a job for two years.  I stopped counting at 200 applications.  I felt like I was evaporating into thin air.  I felt the world had no place for me or for the gifts I eagerly wanted to share.  I felt like a little bird with a beautiful song with only the woods to hear it.

 

Now, I have a professional job.  By most standards, it is a good paying position, and I have the money to buy birdseed and cake.  I can pay my bills.  I can take my daughter out to eat.  I can travel with ease to visit my family, because I not only have a car… but I have a new car and the money to put gas in it.  And yet, tomorrow is November 25th and word has it that Publisher’s Clearing House will be awarding their big prize on that date.  I played.  I played this year.  I put every little sticker in just the right place every single time the forms came.  I licked and stamped each attempt to win the big bucks.  And tomorrow, there is a part of me that hopes the doorbell will ring, and I will greet the flower-bearing, balloon twirling people who will tell me I am rich.

 

I realize that I truly have no need for a ka-million dollars.  I realize that I am blessed beyond words to have what I have, to have a loving family, health, and a creative mind.  But sometimes, I fall into the American trap that I deserve more.  I got a new car instead of purchasing a house because I can’t afford to do both.  I would like a new couch so I don’t feel like I’m sitting in a hole.  I’d like to go on retreat or vacation, but who has three hundred or more dollars for a few days away?  I don’t.  I have enough money to take care of myself and offer a few generosities to others along the way.  That’s the really frustrating part.  If I had more… I would do so much more for others.  I don’t really want to win Publisher’s Clearing House, because I would feel guilty for having too much.  But I have wished lately I could have a bit more… mostly because it feels like most people do! 

The other day I was in line at a store with a friend who was purchasing some items she will need for her upcoming move out of state.  We were talking and laughing as we stood in this long line trying to pleasantly pass the time.  I was, however, beginning to get annoyed because I highly dislike this particular store, and I was remembering why as we waited at one of the thirty check-out lines that were manned by only 3 clerks.  My grumpiness quickly abated, however, when I noticed the man in front of us.  When he finally got to the conveyer belt and began putting his purchases on it, I saw that he had no hands.  He was lifting huge bags of dog food and big jugs of laundry detergent with the little bit of forearms that he had and he was obviously very independent.  But all I could think was… “This man has no hands.”  Of course, I wanted to offer to help, but he didn’t need my help or my pity.  He was living his life, getting ready to feed his dog and take care of his laundry apparently.

 

But here’s the thing… how do we live alongside of our neighbors who have more than one house and more than one car and plenty of funds for travel and fun while some have no heat this winter and some barely have food?  And how does a person like me who lives in the middle of these two extremes find peace?  I cannot brag about the trip I’m not taking to Europe nor can I brag about the new car in the drive.  It is a quandary, and it makes me feel sad and thankful all at the same time.

 

When Publisher’s Clearing House does not show up at my door tomorrow, I think I will sigh a long sigh… both of disappointment and relief.  And then I will go out under the tree where the birds with fully bellies will be singing, and I will lift my two hands in praise.  Gratitude seems the best practice.

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Shabbat Shalom

11/16/2014

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Today is my Sabbath, but Friday evening I went to Synagogue with my friend Michelle, to honor hers.  We sat together in the ornate, small space and allowed our work-weary bodies to be cupped by the canter’s singing.  The Hebrew words, ancient and worn, transported me to a place both known and unknown to me, but a place filled with comfort large enough to hold two faiths in love.

 

As the prayers poured out, as the chanting and ceremony around the beloved Torah took place, all I could feel was gratitude.  I could not always find the English translations in the book in front of me, but time and again I was filled with wonder and emotion as my friend and I were reminded that God is God and love is love.  I know Jesus wasn’t in her frame of reference, but she knew He was in mine.  Isn’t that beautiful?  Doesn’t that just define… you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind and your neighbor as yourself?  Thank you, Michelle, for entrusting me with something so precious to you.  You are precious to me.

 

And today, how did I honor my own Sabbath?  I had breakfast with my daughter and listened to her share about her faith journey.  I loved looking at her brown eyes and her long, wavy hair and remembering times we lit candles together and sang our bedtime prayers.  I am thankful she still seeks and that she ventures out of her own comfort zones to find what is true to her soul.

 

And after we hugged, I went to my place of worship as she drove to hers.  She tells me that hers is similar to a rock concert… a large arena, upbeat music, and a really good preacher who says things that mean something to her.  Mine is now the Quaker Meeting where we sit in silence until Spirit moves in the heart and someone rises to speak.  When people do speak, I hear God in their words and in their expressions.  And when people do not speak, I hear God the clearest.  This is what I love about this experience in my faith journey now.  Silence is a profound teacher, and it is always new, always fresh… like breath, like heartbeats.  And there is great release in the belief that God speaks through all of us… not just in a chosen few.  When you trust that you bump into God all over the place.

 

And when words were spoken in Meeting today, they were words that said, “Be you.  What’s past is past.  Keep what is worthy.  Keep what sets you free.  But let go of what is no longer your truth.”  It made me feel happy to tears.  God makes me feel happy to tears.

 

And I’ve listened to the rain.  I’ve lit candles here at home and used my hands to create beautiful things with colorful fibers and threads.  I’ve worked on my Infant Massage exam and loved writing about the power and grace that comes through presence and touch.  I’ve worn my favorite socks, and I’ve watched day turn to night… just like that… without asking permission or filling out any forms or worrying what anyone will think about doing what comes so naturally.  Sabbath shows up to remind us to live like that.  Let’s keep leaning in to that teaching, that worship, that calling to wholeness.

 

Shabbat Shalom.  Peaceful Sabbath.


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    Kathy Guisewite

    "To be about there
      first attend to what is here
      everything connects."  KFG

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