A room with a view

When I came home from my afternoon run today, I found my husband washing the windows.  Normally there are screens at these windows and the view out is not so crystal clear, but even then, even when the windows are dirty and screens dull the view, it is a great blessing to have this view from my kitchen table.  No mountain vistas or seascapes, no bubbling streams or peaceful lakes.  But through these windows I watch the seasons change and I see the glory of God's creation each and every day.

A blessing to begin my day

Gary of A Day in the Life, one of my favorite bloggers, posted this little video on his blog today.  Simple and beautiful and full of wise advice - a blessing to begin my day.

A blessing pictorial

It has been almost a month since I last posted.  The lapse wasn't due to a lack of blessings, but to my inability to put them into words.  I hope the pictures that follow, along with a little description, will make up for my lack of eloquence.

A walk with my son and his family through his  neighborhood on a beautiful Saturday morning in early October.  Artists were displaying their work in their  homes and on their porches and lawns as participants in an event called "Art and Soule".

A message of Hope along the way.

There was music on the walk and we were introduced to Laurelyn Dossett and "The Gathering".

The fall color of the Japanese Maple framing the view of our front door.

A nearly full moon seen from the deck on a clear cool evening.

Multiple sightings of Monarch butterflies.
They've been stopping in the garden for a snack as they migrate to Mexico.

Discovering the music of Red June from Asheville, N.C.

Celebrating the birthdays of my grandnephew and grandniece with bugs and bubbles and fun.

Watching a bride-to-be's photo session at the Old Well on the campus of our beloved UNC-CH.

Having lunch and watching the football game in the bar of the Carolina Inn in Chapel Hill.

Having fun with other Carolina fans at "Late Night with Roy"

Completing my first half-marathon, The Durham Ramblin' Rose, with my sister.

Seeing this photo of two of my grandchildren (with their friends)
on the front of the Raleigh News and Observer
113-103yGr.St.156.jpg
(grandson Mac is on the left, granddaughter Eliza is second from the right)

Making bubbles with grandsons Grady and John Harper.

Seeing the first blooms of the season on the Camellia.

Learning that grandsons Jack and Sy are doing well in school and that
 their mother, our oldest, is off to a good start in her new job as a school media specialist.

Watching the morning light illuminate the brilliant colors of the oak leaves.

Having lunch and visiting with my two sisters, then driving home along the two-lane highway
instead of the interstate.  The highway was lined with trees at the peak of fall color.

My two sisters in Fall 2008.

Days pass and the years vanish and we walk sightless among miracles. 
Lord, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing.
Let there be moments when your Presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk.
Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns, unconsumed.
And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness and exclaim in wonder,
“How filled with awe is this place and we did not know it.”
From the Jewish Sabbath Prayer Book


If you have been reading this blog for a while you may remember this post from February about my brother and his diagnosis of brain cancer.  Several weeks ago he received the news that another tumor, possibly two additional tumors, have appeared.  The course of treatment is undecided as I write this, but your healing thoughts and prayers for illumination in this darkness will be much appreciated.

In the midst of our ugliness

A few weeks ago I was visiting with a friend in the cafe of our local book store.  Looking out the window I saw a glorious sunset and couldn't resist going outside to take a picture with my cell phone (the only camera I had with me).  At the time all I could think was how I wished the cars, the parking lot, the neon signs, and the utility poles weren't sharing the scene with the sunset.
Often on my way to or from work I am so moved by the beauty of the sun and the clouds that I want to stop the car and gaze on it without distraction.  Even if I could stop, there would almost always be distraction in the form of our man-made landscape.
It was like that this morning - glorious skies, the light of fall that I can't begin to describe.  I wanted to take a photo but couldn't frame it without including utility poles.  I remembered this photo from the evening at the book store and my disappointment that it included all that commercial property.  I pulled it up on my phone and gave it another look.
That's when I realized that I had been blind to the true beauty of both of the scenes.
What did I see that I hadn't noticed before?  I saw God's glory in the midst of our ugliness - not isolated from it.  I was reminded that God is always "in the picture", even when we have focused on something else.

The treasure of his example

His heritage to his children wasn't words or possessions, but an unspoken treasure, the treasure of his example as a man and a father.-- Will Rogers Jr.

My daddy, who died in March 2009, would have been 91 today.

From a letter I wrote to my father on the occasion of his 80th birthday in September 2000. 

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. . ." Galations 5:22-23

When I think of your influence on my life, I think of the fruit of the Spirit. The love you have given, the joy we see in your face when we’re gathered together, the patience with which you disciplined us, the kindness and goodness that are evident in all that you do, the gentleness with which you held and cared for your grandchildren, the self-control necessary to be a responsible husband, father, and son.
There is no way that I can adequately express how much your example. . .just the way you have lived your life. . .has meant to me.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.  I love you.

Traveling in patterns of God's making

Christine Valters Painter, in a guest post on Godspace  , writes about Lectio Divina:

"In my morning prayer I make space to just notice what experience is rising up in me, and in my daily life I become attentive to those experiences which stir strong feelings or trigger an unexpected memory. Perhaps I am driving in my car and a song comes on the radio which carries me back in time to a moment from my past and I am filled with emotion. Lectio cultivates my ability to make space to allow the fullness of my experience. Rather than holding back my tears and judging them, I let them flow and in the process discover a moment of healing and grace."

When I first read this, my reaction was "yes, letting the tears flow brings healing and grace."  But after thinking about it more deeply, I realized that it isn't the tears that bring healing.  It's making space for the fullness of the experience. And I realized, too, that moments are measured in linear time but that they aren't fully experienced that way - especially life-changing moments.  We don't move neatly and smoothly through our days, with a clean beginning and end to each experience.  Life isn't really a highway, but more like a body of water, and the best mode of travel is to "travel in patterns of God's making"*, allowing dips and swells of emotion.

We talk about reliving moments through our memories and through photographs.  But isn't it more of a continuation of the experience? Often it's only through reflection that we understand the emotion of the moment.  It's only through opening ourselves to the floodgates of feeling that we can fully celebrate joy or learn to carry the burden of loss.  Most often when we are in the moment our senses can't absorb it all, our brains can't process it all. The moment in linear time passes but we carry it with us, tucked away as we go about our routine daily tasks.  Smells, sounds, sights, words . . .all of these may bring the emotion of the moment back at a later time.

When I read a good book I read it quickly, in a hurry to turn the page and find out what happens next.  To do a book justice, I have to go back and re-read it at least once, sometimes twice, in order to fully absorb and understand it.  I've wished I could relive every joyful experience in my life the way that I re-read a book - focusing on the details, imprinting them on my heart.  I can't do that - I can't go back in time - but I can continue to experience the moments by making room for that joy to well up in me once again.

If it's a moment of loss that's been tucked away, the emotions well up when my emotional guard is down.  A song, a story, a movie, a photo, a newspaper article - all of those have been triggers that have brought the moment back.  The tears come, the pain comes, but over time healing also comes.  The loss stays, but there is salve for the pain.  There is healing and grace.

*I want to travel in patterns of God’s making. . .
Moving to the rhythm of the surging of his spirit,A journey which when life ends, in Christ has just begun
    -Julia McGuinness

The blessing is in the seed

Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of 

all things are blest.The blessing is in the seed. 

Muriel Rukeyser

Collecting seeds with my grandchildren, Fall 2010

The church my husband and I have belonged to for 31 years celebrates 50 years of ministry this year with the theme "Blessed to be a Blessing".   A request has gone out asking people to share:

As part of our anniversary celebration, we are hoping to share with each other how Ascension has blessed our lives. Maybe it was a baptism, a church life event, confirmation, first communion, a call or a card when things weren’t going well, special music that touched you, a particularly meaningful worship service, volunteering for Meals on Wheels or another outreach project.....

what special memories do you have of Ascension?

My children grew up in this church and the individual blessings are too many to name.  Though they were all three baptized in other churches in other towns, this little church gave them a foundation of faith that has proven strong.  They are all three parents now and we have come full circle - 

to new beginnings in the baptisms of their children, our grandchildren.

This is the blessing I cherish the most - the blessed seeds of faith planted in my children by the loving people of Ascension Lutheran Church.  It is a blessing that was not only planted but nourished through first communion, Vacation Bible School, youth group, Sunday School, Confirmation class, and Christmas programs.  My children were nourished through service as acolytes and crucifers as well as the less appealing service of cleaning  and mowing.  My oldest daughter was married at Ascension.  We gathered there for communion the evening before my younger daughter's wedding. 

 The important passages of their young lives were celebrated at Ascension 

and the church family encircled them in care and love.

And we, as parents, were nourished as well.

One morning many years ago, I went to a quilting gathering at the church with two young children in tow.  One was my two-year-old son and the other was an infant I was caring for.  It had been a stressful morning and some small thing - I don't even remember what it was - brought me nearly to tears.  One of the older women there, who taught my children in Sunday School, put her hand on my shoulder and with just a few words helped me put it in perspective.  She had been where I was, she knew how I felt, and she knew that a kind hand and a kind word were the nourishment I needed.  

I can still feel her hand and hear the kindness in her voice. It was one of many blessings.

As Ascension Lutheran Church celebrates 50 years of ministry may it continue 

to plant blest seeds and to nourish them.

"Sunny Side Up"

When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses. ~Joyce Brothers

In the issue of Parade Magazine that came with the Sunday paper there is a little quiz entitled "Sunny Side Up" by Colleen Oakley.  One of the most intriguing questions is this:
"Research shows that vacation-goers feel happiest: a) a month before they take off for their destination  b) in the middle of the vacation  c) right after they get back"
It seemed obvious to me that c was not the right answer.  But I had to think a little about a and b.  I thought there should have been another choice:  d) both a and b.
According to the article, the correct answer is a - the happiest part of vacation for many is the anticipation.  Dutch researchers found that "planning a vacation can improve your mood for up to two months before the actual trip".   The question sadly assumes that your vacation isn't likely to live up to your anticipation of it.  My vacations have generally been just as happy as the anticipation, but in a different way - a less fretful, calmer, more relaxing way.

The happiness that comes from anticipation seems to contradict one of the other questions in the quiz:
"True or false?  Optimists are happier than pessimists."  The answer is "false" and the reason is "lowered expectations mean less disappointment in life."   I do believe that having realistic expectations of life and especially of people contributes to happiness.  But I don't think that having realistic expectations makes me a pessimist.

Vacationing at the beach with my family

Back to the first question on happiness and vacations.  Vacationing with family makes me happy - the anticipation of it, the vacation itself, and the memories of it.  Most members of our family - our children and our sisters and brothers, live so far away that a visit usually involves an overnight stay.  When we vacation together what I want most - and the only real expectation I have - is that we enjoy each other's company.  I want us all to be together without expectation of anything greater than loving each other and strengthening the bond that is already there.  It helps that our vacation spots have always been places where relaxation is the primary activity and that we are aware and understanding of each other's idiosyncrasies.  I can't think of a time when the happiness of the anticipation outweighed the happiness of the time together.

The Tarleton siblings and spouses

Last weekend my husband and I spent some time in the mountains with his siblings (two brothers and a sister) and their spouses - the siblings sharing meals and going to bed under the same roof for the first time since the oldest brother left home years ago.  We were all blessed by the time together.  I don't think any of them would say that the anticipation of it made them happier than the actual time together - instead I'd say the happiness began when they realized it was actually going to happen.  The happiness lingers as they anticipate making it an annual event.
And here is the essential happiness ingredient that is not even mentioned in the Parade quiz:  love of family.

You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them. ~Desmond Tutu

Lost and found

When I was grieving the death of our sweet dog Bear last week what I most wanted to do was go out in my garden and work.  I wanted to lose myself in that work - it was the best therapy I could think of.  Because I have a job (for which I'm very thankful) I wasn't able to work in the garden and instead tried to lose myself in my desk work.  It wasn't the same.  It did help me forget for moments at a time but it didn't help me step out of myself and see things differently.  It wasn't the healing balm that gardening is.

Yesterday I wrote on my gardening blog that the garden is a place of solace.  Gardens can be places of healing even for those who don't dig and weed and plant in them.  They can be peaceful places, especially those where the sounds, fragrances, and colors are soothing.  Being in my garden or any beautiful garden gives me that peace but working in my garden does so much more.  It gives me perspective on my place in the world, it gives me a sense of connection, it reminds me that "this too shall pass."  The hard physical labor and resulting sweat have a cleansing effect on my soul.  Gardening lifts me up and out of myself.

I like to think that the pain is carried away a little at a time on the wings of the butterflies.

Long before my days as a gardener I found similar solace in other creative activities - bread baking, sewing, and needlework - and in being a mother, the most creative activity of all.  There's a common thread in all of these - they all involve using the body, especially the hands,  to express something from the heart.  And they all draw you spiritually out of yourself and into the work -  which in turn connects you to the world beyond yourself.  You begin looking outward instead of inward.  Your view of the world shifts.  
In losing myself in this work of the hands and heart I find peace.  And though the pain doesn't disappear,  it is made bearable.

For an earlier post on my gardening blog about handwork, gardening, and creativity go here.  

"This is his glory"

Manifest:

readily perceived by the eye or the understanding; evident; obvious

Epiphany

Unclench your fists

Hold out your hands

Take mine

Let us hold each other

This is his glory

Manifest.

Madeleine L'Engle, from "The Irrational Season"

"Christ has no body now, but yours. No hands, no feet on earth, but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ looks compassion into the world. Yours are the feet with which Christ walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which Christ blesses the world." - Teresa of Avila

Some weeks ago I wrote about being brushed by God's glory, or "kabod".  (See that post here.)  It was a physical manifestation of glory that stopped me in my tracks.  The glory of God's creation is "readily perceived by the eye", it is "evident" and "obvious".
God's glory perceived through "understanding", though, is God's glory perceived through love, evident and obvious in our hearts.  Understood in our hearts, while remaining beyond the comprehension of our minds.  Each time we take a step to come closer in love and compassion to one another, God's glory is made manifest.   Even the smallest acts of kindness involving a stranger are glimpses of glory.

But as Madeleine L'Engle so beautifully expresses, we must first unclench our fists and stop holding on to ourselves.  We must open our hands and hearts and hold them out.  We must hold each other.  It sounds so simple and easy, yet it may be the single hardest thing we do as humans.  We want to be in control, we don't want to let go and let down our protective shields.  We're selfish.  We're afraid.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."
— C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves)

Even when we do unclench our fists, open our hands, let down our shields, even then, if we are honest, we'll admit that there are times when God's glory seems mysteriously distant.  Our spiritual gas tanks run dry.  We have no energy to reach out - to be Christ's eyes, hands, and feet.  Sorrow, worry, fear, and despair weigh us down.

And yet God's love is there, always there.  It is there in those who love us, pray for us, care for us, cry for us, and hold us tight.  It is there through tragedy, as it has been in the aftermath of the destructive tornadoes this Spring.  It was there in that convenience store beer cooler when the young man called out to the strangers he was with, over the noise of the storm, "I love you!  I love you guys!"  It was there on the Southwest Airlines flight when the woman held the hand of the stranger next to her, thinking that if they were going to die, they should each be holding someone's hand.   It is there  in every kind word and gesture, in every smile, in every tear. It is God's love that I think of when I hear Patty Griffin sing "All that I want is one who knows me. A kind hand on my face when I weep."  

It is here holding my family together as we support my brother through the days of brain cancer treatment.  It is with every person and every family who suffers.  Don't look for it with your eyes.   Don't try to understand it with your mind.  Feel it.  Feel the kind hand on your face when you weep.  "This is his glory manifest."

Given to God

God, who is rich in mercy and love, gives us a new birth into a living hope through the sacrament of baptism. By water and the Word God delivers us from sin and death and raises us to new life in Jesus Christ. We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God's mission for the life of the world.

Evangelical Lutheran Worship, the service of Holy Baptism, pg. 227

My grandson at his baptism, July 2005

On my dresser is a small white book, a daily reminder that I am a child of God.  The book, entitled “Given to God”, copyright 1906,  is a keepsake from my baptism on the 12th day of April, 1953.

The pages prefacing the order of service contain the following:

The parents who do not understand the blessing that has come to them in their little one are missing a revealing as glorious as the burning bush, before which Moses was bidden to take off his shoes.

A revealing as glorious as the burning bush - reading that was almost a revelation.  Is anyone more in awe of God’s power than new parents? But soon that awe is overshadowed by the fatigue that accompanies the early years of parenting and the busy schedules that follow as the children grow.  Reading those words years later, from the perspective of a grandmother, I am struck anew with the glory of God revealing himself in the gift and blessing of new life.  

It is a holy moment when a baby is laid in the arms of a mother and father.  One speaks out of the holy silence and says, “Take this child and guard, teach, and train it for Me.”  The parents are to be their children’s angels.  It is not easy to be an angel to a little child either in the home or in the world outside.  Sin is everywhere.  Many a beautiful young life is wounded in the battles with temptation.  Very sacred therefore is the parents’ part in guarding their children’s lives.”

It is not easy. . .there isn’t a parent who would disagree.  Our children are wounded not only by their own battles with temptation but often they are the innocent victims of the battles of others. The hearts of parents are wounded when the children are wounded.  But when parents guard, teach, and train their children, the children are sent out into the world with conviction, strength of character, compassion, and a love for God and His creation.  They are sent out to be blessings to others.  And if - when - they are wounded, God’s love and the love of their parents are healing salves.

St. Paul assures us that the children of the faithful are to be numbered among the holy people of God. Our Saviour also, in the Gospel, calls the children unto Him, and blesses them, saying:  Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not; for such is the Kingdom of God.

My parents were asked and answered "yes" to the question “Do you accept, for yourself and for your child, the covenant of God, and therein consecrate your child to Him?”
They promised to instruct me “in the principles of our holy religion, as contained in the Scriptures”, to pray with me, and to bring me “up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”

The minister prayed:
“Grant, O Lord, to these Thy servants grace to perform the things which they have promised before Thee:  
And sanctify with Thy Spirit this child now to be baptized according to Thy Word through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

The water was poured; I was baptized in the “Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

With God’s grace, my parents fulfilled the promises they made that April day so many years ago.  They taught me and and my siblings by their words and example what it meant to live lives of faith. They guarded, taught, and trained me.  When I was wounded they wept with me and loved me.  Through them I first knew the love of God.

I know that the sacrament of baptism was a beginning.  I  must affirm my baptism every day by asking God's forgiveness and beginning anew. This little book reminds me of that.

Marriage - to be made whole

To heal:  to make sound or whole

"You are married. Healing is not a profession but a way of life. Your spouse is not your patient but your flesh. Healing, then, is a task for your heart as well as your head and your hand. "

"Mutuality is accomplished by two whole persons; and if each partner truly intends to be but the fraction of a relationship (thinking my whole makes up half of us) he or she will soon discover that these halves do not fit perfectly together. The mathematics can work only if each subtracts something of himself or herself, shears it off, and lays it aside forever.
        — Walter Wangerin Jr. (As For Me And My House: Crafting Your Marriage To Last)


Forty years ago this Saturday (April 23, 1971),  my whole became a half of a new creation - a marriage.  In fitting my half  to my husband’s I have been healed - made sound and whole in a new way.

As Walter Wangerin says, a marriage only works if the two shear off parts of themselves.  That happens over time, not at the altar, and the healing from it is an ongoing process, “a way of life”.  

In our first year of marriage my mother died. We became parents. My husband went away for 4 ½ months for officer candidate training in the Coast Guard.  It was a beginning that might have been too much for some marriages.  But we clung to each other and promised that after that separation for Coast Guard training we’d never be apart again.
It wasn’t a promise we were able to keep - work and life have separated us physically many times over the years.  But we also know now that the separations that harm a marriage aren’t the physical ones.  The retreat into selfishness, the breech in communication -  these are the separations that harm.  Selfishness is there every day, whether I want to admit it or not.   My attempts at communication often fall short - too many words, no words, the wrong words; a misinterpreted sigh or frown or tone of voice.  Every day my husband forgives and accepts me and loves me despite my faults.  God’s grace helps us heal the wounds we inflict on our marriage and it strengthens our love and commitment to each other.  

My husband is a kind and generous man; a devoted, steadfast and faithful husband, a loving father who continues to set a fine example for his children.   His love has carried me through every difficult moment.  It has multiplied my joy many times over.  It is my greatest blessing.

Ordinary moments

In early February, my brother was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  On February 10, he had successful surgery to remove the tumor.  He is now in week five of radiation and chemo, which will continue on weekdays until April 21.  That will be followed by a two-week "vacation" and then an undetermined number of months of additional chemo.  Vaccine therapy will also be part of the treatment.

My brother modeling the new sun hat recommended by his radiologist.

Last night we gathered at my niece's new home for dinner - my brother, his wife, my sister, my husband, my niece and her family.   It was a beautiful Spring evening and we sat outside on the porch overlooking a small lake.  It could have been any quiet family dinner, but there was an unspoken difference.  A cancer diagnosis does that.  It makes every ordinary moment precious.
My brother is doing well.  He is buoyed by countless prayers and words of love and support, fueled by a diet carefully researched and prepared by his wife, blessed with the care of a skilled medical team, and committed to being well.
There have been countless blessings in the past two months, too many to number.  Our hope grows.  Our gratitude for the ordinary moments together cannot be measured.  We treasure each one.
At the end of this month our extended family will gather in Durham as a team to participate in the Angels Among Us fundraiser for the Preston Robert Tisch Brain Tumor Center.    We're even having t-shirts made with this logo.

If you live in the area, visit the website and join us for the family fun walk through Duke gardens.  Or join us in spirit by giving thanks for each ordinary moment in your day.    

A rain splashed blessing

A rain splashed blessing, unexpected, given up on in fact. 

This Carolina jessamine, now adored with several yellow blooms, was planted last Spring in hopes that it would grow rapidly and soften the top of a privacy fence once sheltered by an overhanging canopy of dogwood, sassafras, sweetgum, and magnolia trees.  (I wrote about the loss of those trees here.)
Several months ago I noticed that the jessamine was turning brown, the sad result of an overzealous application of Round-Up by our neighbor on the other side of the fence.  All of my grief and anger from the loss of those trees flared up again.
This afternoon I walked out in the drizzle after work, making my daily round through the garden to see the changes another day had brought.  And there they were - cheery yellow blooms atop the fence, only a few, but giving me hope for an abundance of blooms in years to come.

Love begets love

I read the obituary pages in the newspaper every morning.  Not out of morbid curiosity but because the lives of those who have died are worth notice and often honor and respect.  I pray for the families who are grieving.  News of the death of a child almost always brings tears.  As I read about men and women of my father's generation - the generation that Tom Brokaw called "The Greatest Generation" - I am often in awe of their resilience and courage. An obituary in this morning's edition began:

A Tribute to Our Parents
Mary G. Crossland
Dr. Clem C. Crossland
Carrsville, VA

I read the lengthy tribute though I didn't know the Crosslands. It told me that they were compassionate and loving people who raised five children to model their own behavior and values.  At the close of the tribute the children ask something of the reader:

There are some debts that are so enormous that they can never be repaid in full, even in a small measure – and the devotion of one's family is one of those. In honor of our parents, we ask that each of you pay it forward by treating your own loved ones with dignity, kindness and compassionate care for as long as you have the strength and resources, for you will not regret a day that you do so.

The anniversary of my father's death is tomorrow. He was also one of "The Greatest Generation" and a man of great integrity, love, and compassion. I could never repay the debt I owe for his unconditional love, for the example he set, for the values he instilled in me and my siblings. We are a strong and loving family largely because of his example. As we approach this anniversary we are gathered in spirit at all times and in body whenever possible to support my brother who was diagnosed in early February with brain cancer. But my brother is not just the recipient of support- he and his love for us are equally integral parts of this teepee we have made by leaning on one another. We support each other as we did when we gathered following my father's death last March. Love, compassion, understanding, forgiveness - these elements heal and strengthen. They are medicine for the patient and the patient's family. They flow through us from God, wrap around us, and bind us together. May you and your family be bound together in love. Pay it forward - not because it's a debt to be paid or an obligation -pay it forward because that's what love does. Love begets love.

Chasing bubbles

Warm sunshine

A grandson chasing bubbles

in his dinosaur boots

Each day comes bearing its own gifts. 

Untie the ribbons. ~Ruth Ann Schabacker

Earth's crammed with heaven

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries. --Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Earth is crammed with Heaven in all seasons, but as Spring approaches, I am aware of it with all of my senses. The life that has been slumbering through the cold of winter is waking up.
I hear it, feel it, see it each and every day.  

My father rejoiced each year when he saw the first crocus spring up.  Last February he was too ill to watch for the crocus himself, and so when it appeared, I took a photo for him.

Last  fall I planted crocus bulbs in his memory.
The first bloom appeared this week.

With open heart and eyes I look for Heaven on earth.  

Brushed by Glory

"Ruthless Trust is an unerring sense, way deep down, that beneath the surface agitation, boredom, and insecurity of life, it's gonna be all right.  Ill winds may blow, more character defects may surface, sickness may visit, and friends will surely die, but a stubborn, irrefutable certainty persists that God is with us and loves us in our struggle to be faithful.

A non-rational, absolutely true intuition perdues that there is something unfathomably big in the universe (kabod/glory), something that points to Someone who is filled with peace and power, love and undreamed creativity - Someone who will reconcile all things in himself."  

Brennan Manning, from "Ruthless Trust"

I spend my weekdays behind a desk, inside a building, away from the open sky.  But as I drive to work each morning and then home again in the evening, I am often brushed by kabod as I see the sun rising and setting.  There have been times that I've been tempted to pull to the side of the road and sit, looking at the sky in awe.  It is easy to understand why heaven has always been thought of as above us, in the sky.  Yesterday I had a longer morning drive than usual as I was going first to my dentist, whose office is a 20 minute drive away through farmland and empty fields.  The sky was glorious, the sun bright, the clouds flirting with the sun.  The open fields were lined with bare trees silhouetted by the sun.  

I wasn't able to take pictures, and even if I had, they wouldn't have captured the glory of it.  But photos can remind us of that feeling that we've been brushed by kabod, that feeling that stops us in our tracks and silences us.  These photos taken by my husband do that for me.

May you look at the sky today and feel the brush of Glory.  May your hearts be filled with peace.

Hope

The following is a duplicate of a post on my other blog, http://ginnysgarden.blogspot.com

HOPE
–noun
the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

I would like for all of you to hope with me.  If you pray, I ask you to pray with me.  

As I write this my brother is having surgery for a malignant brain tumor.  No matter how successful the surgery, some of the tumor will remain - it's that kind of tumor.   But we are full of hope - for successful surgery, for a swift recovery from surgery, for successful chemo and radiation treatment with minimal side effects.
  
One of my hopes for the coming days is that my brother is able to spend time at our family house by the lake, sitting on the porch and feeling surrounded by God's loving arms. It's a healing place.  I took the photos in the slideshow below early Sunday morning, a few days after he was diagnosed, when our family gathered there in support.  We are now gathered at the hospital - waiting, hoping, praying.

 

"Daily" Life

“Let us remember that the life in which we ought to be interested is “daily” life.  We can, each of us, only call the present our own. . . Our Lord tells us to pray for today and so he prevents us from tormenting ourselves about tomorrow.  It is as if (God) were to say to us:  “(It is I) who gives you what you need for this day.  (It is I) who makes the sun to rise..  (It is I) who scatters the darkness of night and reveals to you the rays of the sun.”

Gregory of Nyssa, On the Lord’s Prayer

I read this passage this morning in the opening pages of “The Quotidian Mysteries” by Kathleen Norris.  “The Quotidian Mysteries” is a book I’ve read before and that I go back to from time to time for words of inspiration, but the words that stayed with me all day today weren’t the words of Kathleen Norris - they were these words of Saint Gregory.  

It’s difficult to be interested in daily life through the cold gray days of winter - I’m too eager for these days to pass and Spring to come.  When my mind and imagination are focused on what I long for, I miss out on the joy that gratitude for the blessings of today would bring.  Those blessings are many - God gives me what I need and more.  

And so each day I’ll savor that first cup of hot coffee.  I’ll linger at the kitchen window and watch the purple finches at the feeder.  I’ll give thanks for the man who has loved me for over 40 years and I’ll hold his hand gratefully as he asks God to bless our evening meal.  I’ll crawl in my warm bed with a stack of books on the nightstand and give thanks for a comforting end to another day.

"Being fully present in the now is perhaps the premier skill of the spiritual life."  

Brennan Manning