I ate the cake!
We picked up the cake for Anna's 30th birthday at the vegan bakery earlier in the day when we were walking around Portland with her sister and Ryan, Sarah's then boyfriend. I placed the cake on a small table covered with a black cloth in the corner of the party room, where plates, forks and festive napkins waited to serve their function.
Usually avoiding sweets, I decided to have a piece of the vegan cake, curious about the taste. Even Sarah asked, "Mom, are you having cake?" as she remembered my aversion to high calorie items.
"I thought I would try a piece," I replied, ready to savor an unusual morsel!
The plates were gone when I cut my piece, which landed on one of the birthday napkins I purchased for the occasion. I sliced a corner covered with half-inch icing, and popped it into my mouth --- oh my!! What an experience to enjoy a flat-tasting cake camouflaged with delicious icing. I entered the fullness of the party by partaking of cake, which Sarah recorded in a photo.
When I licked the fork wanting to get every spot of icing, I thought how much the kingdom of God is like tasting a piece of birthday cake. I realized by eating cake, I was able to participate in all aspects of the party - planning the event, greeting and meeting guests, giving presents and eating cake. When I ate the sweets with everyone else, I left nothing out of the joy of the moment.
So often I deny myself the pleasure of full participation in events, however, in that rich icing day, I learned how complete immersion added meaning and depth.
I could not help but see a parallel to taking communion as a way to fully participate in God's kingdom. Be not afraid to come to the table and partake of the holiness of life in Christ.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Sunday, June 21, 2015
A Summer Memory from Vincennes and Brownie Camp
When we moved to Vincennes in June, 1989, we found a large, single floor home built in 1954. This house eventually became our favorite parsonage because of the amount of storage, the two-sink, long-counter bathroom that Sarah and Anna shared, and the living room located in the back of the house.
A large, glass window spanned the length of the living room offering a view of our neighbor's pond and gazebo.
Our large backyard that I mowed each week was filled with moles that made a network of underground tunnels. Hills appearing from these tunnels made mowing a challenge. The uneven surface of the yard formed interesting topography as I pushed the mower over "hills and valleys."
One day I was getting the lawn mower from the rust-colored shed located in the side-yard. I noticed a small patch of Lilies of the Valley flowers growing next to the concrete porch. Setting aside the mower, I stooped down to get a close view of this plant. The tiny, white bell-shaped flowers were delicate and pure white. My hand behind the flower made a canvas highlighting the beauty.
In that moment I remembered a song I used to sing at the Brownie day camp I attended for a week when I was eight and nine years old.
White coral bells upon a slender stalk.
Lilies of the Valley deck my garden wall.
Oh don't you wish that you could hear them ring.
That will happen only when the fairies sing.
We sang in a round. Although I did not have a melodious voice, I do remember appreciating the mingling of words and harmony that happened.
Sometimes an object or book or smell will remind us of something pleasant from long ago. I was grateful for the memory of a song from seeing a flower growing in my yard.
Today I pray that you too may have a thought or image or from the past that makes you smile.
A large, glass window spanned the length of the living room offering a view of our neighbor's pond and gazebo.
Our large backyard that I mowed each week was filled with moles that made a network of underground tunnels. Hills appearing from these tunnels made mowing a challenge. The uneven surface of the yard formed interesting topography as I pushed the mower over "hills and valleys."
One day I was getting the lawn mower from the rust-colored shed located in the side-yard. I noticed a small patch of Lilies of the Valley flowers growing next to the concrete porch. Setting aside the mower, I stooped down to get a close view of this plant. The tiny, white bell-shaped flowers were delicate and pure white. My hand behind the flower made a canvas highlighting the beauty.
In that moment I remembered a song I used to sing at the Brownie day camp I attended for a week when I was eight and nine years old.
White coral bells upon a slender stalk.
Lilies of the Valley deck my garden wall.
Oh don't you wish that you could hear them ring.
That will happen only when the fairies sing.
We sang in a round. Although I did not have a melodious voice, I do remember appreciating the mingling of words and harmony that happened.
Sometimes an object or book or smell will remind us of something pleasant from long ago. I was grateful for the memory of a song from seeing a flower growing in my yard.
Today I pray that you too may have a thought or image or from the past that makes you smile.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
A Bowl from Betsy and Iya - A Metaphor of Life With God - A Project for June and July
Anna is the director of marketing and media for Betsy and Iya, an independent jewelry store in Portland, Oregon. When we visit Anna, we spend time at the store, perusing the merchandise and watch the jewelry makers put together unique and classic earrings, bracelets, rings and necklaces.
When we were in Portland last March to celebrate Anna's thirtieth birthday, I was captivated by a variety of colorful bowls, the owners, Betsy and Will, purchased during a recent trip to visit family in Guatemala. The tightly woven containers came in different shapes, colors and depths. I purchased two knowing I would use them for something, but in the moment I didn't know when.
I was reminded of a story I read many years ago about bowls in a book by Sue Bender, Everyday Sacred - A Woman's Journey Home. Sue tells about a monk who left his home every day holding an empty begging bowl in his hands. Whatever is placed in the bowl will be his nourishment for the day.
Sue continues,
It was obvious to all who knew me that I wasn't a monk, and the very idea of begging would make most of us uncomfortable. In spite of that, the image of a begging bowl reached out and grabbed my heart.
Initially, I didn't know whether I was the monk or the bowl or the things that would fill the bowl or all three, but I trusted the words and the image completely.
Sue spends the majority of the book describing stories, experiences, and people that filled her bowl during the following months.
Looking at the two bowls from Betsy and Iya resting on my office floor, I consider how a bowl can teach three things about being present to God; open, ready to receive, waiting to receive and holding.
1. Find a bowl. Maybe it's your favorite mixing bowl or container for cereal.
2. Remember where you purchased the bowl and how you use it. If it was a gift recall the occasion and the giver.
3. Bless the bowl. Hold the bowl in both hands. Ask God to keep your heart open like the bowl to receive whatever God might want to fill it with.
4. Invite God at the beginning of the day to fill your bowl. Ask God to keep your hear open so you are aware of how God is coming to you. Whatever you feel God leading you include as content in the bowl.
5. At the end of July, look how your bowl was filled. Examine the contents to see what came to your heart.
6. Send me a picture of your bowl and/or the contents as well as a brief summary of your experience. With your permission I'll share a few reflections at the beginning of August.
Several years ago I filled a bowl for a month with scripture, prayers, newspaper clippings and photographs. I wrote insights and perspective I received about life from God, people, books that I wanted to remember and placed all in the bowl. If I received a letter or note during this time, that, too, found a home in the bowl. Dried peonies, my favorite spring flower, rested in the bowl its beauty amplified while I dried. Small pieces of leftover fabric from sewing projects and a church bulletin with sermon notes rested in the bowl.Each day I had a feeling of expectation and anticipation how God would fill my bowl throughout the day. I carried the bowl just about everywhere I went. The bowl "sat" on the passenger side of the car and followed me from room to room at home. God speak anywhere and anytime and I wanted to be ready. The bowl helped me remember to keep my heart open ready to receive, fill and the contents held.
Prayer: God, fill us to overflowing with tangible expressions of your goodness, love and challenge. Guide our reflections with what you give so we can learn more about ourselves and our lives with you. Amen.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Walking - A Way to Reduce Stress for Me, but For the Animals........ hmmmmmmm
Today I went for a walk in the morning when the day was fresh and beginning. The streets were empty as those who had to work were gone. Even those who I occasionally see walking dogs must have been sleeping or not ready to greet the day outside.
Quiet brought clarity in the sounds of chirping birds, each cadence quickly discerned blending together like different parts of a symphony or band performing a concert of nature's music.
Noting the color of squirrels who move quickly through the trees and brush along my path, I realized how grey and white fur provides camouflage for these animals as they blend in with shades of green, brown and gray in the foliage and rocks.
I saw two geese paddling across the pond, the water still, tree reflections over the water creating an image like a mirror. One squirrel scurried across the road in front of me, a nut latched securely in his/her mouth.
Reflecting on the birds singing, the geese swimming, the squirrels hurrying among rocks and fallen leaves, reminded me how people talk about finding peace in nature.
I've heard men and women reply 'nature' when asked where they go to experience peace or have time to reflect. The rhythm of watching squirrels gather nuts in the fall, watching birds build nests in the spring, seeing rabbits in my back yard dig holes and eat flower tops is captivating - sort of like being an "intruder" to their daily life.
People say watching animals in nature or leaves falling from trees or walking in forest brings peace, but two questions arose from my walk.
As the squirrels gather food, birds build nests, geese swim, squirrels run, and birds chirp, they look peaceful, but are there stresses in their lives too? Do these creatures look peaceful in their pursuit of everyday life to human observers, while in reality, their tasks have elements of risk about which we cannot know? Are birds stressed to find food or items to build a nest in a timely manner?
A second question occurred - Would someone watch humans purchase food, prepare, organize and care for a house find relaxation and peace?
Quiet brought clarity in the sounds of chirping birds, each cadence quickly discerned blending together like different parts of a symphony or band performing a concert of nature's music.
Noting the color of squirrels who move quickly through the trees and brush along my path, I realized how grey and white fur provides camouflage for these animals as they blend in with shades of green, brown and gray in the foliage and rocks.
I saw two geese paddling across the pond, the water still, tree reflections over the water creating an image like a mirror. One squirrel scurried across the road in front of me, a nut latched securely in his/her mouth.
Reflecting on the birds singing, the geese swimming, the squirrels hurrying among rocks and fallen leaves, reminded me how people talk about finding peace in nature.
I've heard men and women reply 'nature' when asked where they go to experience peace or have time to reflect. The rhythm of watching squirrels gather nuts in the fall, watching birds build nests in the spring, seeing rabbits in my back yard dig holes and eat flower tops is captivating - sort of like being an "intruder" to their daily life.
People say watching animals in nature or leaves falling from trees or walking in forest brings peace, but two questions arose from my walk.
As the squirrels gather food, birds build nests, geese swim, squirrels run, and birds chirp, they look peaceful, but are there stresses in their lives too? Do these creatures look peaceful in their pursuit of everyday life to human observers, while in reality, their tasks have elements of risk about which we cannot know? Are birds stressed to find food or items to build a nest in a timely manner?
A second question occurred - Would someone watch humans purchase food, prepare, organize and care for a house find relaxation and peace?
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Do things really happen for a reason?
Recently I swam at the Jordan YMCA on the north side of Indianapolis. I prefer the warmer temperatures in the pool compared to the Fishers Y where I usually swim. Whenever I am close to the Jordan Y, I pop in and enjoy my usual workout.
That day, when I entered the pool, the lap lanes were already full, so I tapped a lady on the head and asked if I could share the lane. There is etiquette for lap swimmers - asking to share rather than just jumping in is one of them. She removed her goggles and paused by the edge of the pool.
"Sure you can share. I'll take the left side." she said.
"I'll take the right," I replied.
"I had hip replacement surgery two months ago. A nerve in my leg was scratched, now my foot is numb. I should have been back at work in two weeks, but I can't do anything. The doctors can't figure out what went wrong. I guess everything happens for a reason," she sighed looking down at the water.
Pondering her words, I replied quickly, "I don't think we can say, 'things happen for a reason'. Things just happen. I believe we can learn and grow from what happens to us, but I don't think we need to spend time exploring why - especially in circumstances like yours where even doctors have no explanation."
Sitting on the edge of the pool, I donned my cap, goggles and hand paddles, preparing to swim.
"You are showing up to swim and exercise - that is helping your recovery. Sometimes things just happen and we don't know why!" I hoped my words would offer encouragement down her path of rehabilitation that has lasted way too long.
DO THINGS REALLY HAPPEN FOR A REASON?
What would happen if I said to my friend who was recently diagnosed with liver and gall bladder cancer --- "Well, you know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who husband died suddenly from an aortic dissection and left her a widow with two pre-school children -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my former neighbor whose daughter was born full-term with a heart defect detected after birth, requiring surgery at three weeks -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who desperately wants to be a mother after losing four babies to miscarriage -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my neighbor who went through a difficult divorce after twenty-four years of marriage, disrupting and destroying a family until that previously worked harmoniously -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who deals with the remnants of growing up in an abusive home -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
What type of comfort would these words --"You know, these things happen for a reason" bring? What do all of these persons need, who are in the middle of heartbreak and confusion, who are struggling to stand upright as they deal with unexpected or ongoing events that disrupt their daily routine and wrench our hearts?
EMPATHY CARDS
Emily McDowell has created a new line of cards to express support to others in difficult circumstances. Based on her experiences with stage three Hodgkin's lymphoma, diagnosed when she was twenty-four, empathy cards emerged. I heard Emily interviewed on National Public Radio and also read about her cards in the Huffington Post.
One card beautifully decorated with bright red flowers and teal leaves says:
Please let me be, the first person to punch
The next person who tells you
Everything happens for a reason -
I am sorry you're going through this.
Emily's honest, sensitive, and realistic messages speak to the core of how in our uncomfortableness we try to be present to those who suffer.
SEARCHING
Searching for a reason when unfortunate, sad and life-changing circumstances come our way is natural. We want to know 'why'. Even when we can identify a reason that might pinpoint a cause, the underlying question, "Why did this happen or occur?" may never be known.
Trying to discover 'the reason' something happens can bring frustration and anger. Adding these emotions to limitations, grief, sadness, anxiety and despair that often come with unforeseen events adds another layer of struggle and suffering.
ANOTHER APPROACH - SECURE STRENGTH
Another approach might be, "Do we spend time looking for the reason for what happened or do we look for ways to secure strength to persevere through days that disrupt our normal routine and make us feel terrible?"
Shortly before I pushed away from the pool, I added to my initial remarks, "We can learn and grow from whatever comes our way without finding a reason."
My lane partner, who paused to adjust her cap and goggles looked at me and said, "That's a possibility I'll explore."
If we can identify a reason, does that make things bearable or offer security when our foundations are shattered?
After asking, "What is the reason for ______?" and no answer comes, consider these words, "What can I learn and how can I grow from _____?"
Invite God into your time of inquiry and desire. Ask God open your heart and reveal ways to grow and learn from what you are facing. Bring your emotions to God. God is eager to accept, welcome and hold all you are. As you explore ways to grow spiritually, emotionally and physically from events that happen, God may reveal areas of strength as you persevere through hard places, opening talents and abilities you have not discovered.
MY EXPERIENCE
A few years ago when I was going through a rough patch, I read an activity in a self-help book that suggested writing a letter to yourself using your non-dominant hand. Although I write with my right hand, my mother mentioned that when I used my left hand as a toddler, she covered my hand with hers, forcing me to use my right hand.
As an adult, trying out this letter to myself, I started gingerly, with a pencil in my left hand, writing numbers, then the alphabet, then simple words and sentences. Working with my left hand for several weeks, I eventually discovered my left hand draws and writes. I believe I was created to be left-handed because of the ease with which these tasks came.
My handwriting is different with each hand. When I write blog posts I use paper, pencil to record my thoughts ....with my left hand. Although I struggled to get through what I was experiencing, discovering the insight and freedom that flows from my left hand, brought joy and companionship that is still with me today.
The lady who shared her lane with me finished before I did, leaving me with the luxury of swimming in my own lane. Through the cloudy view of my goggles, I watched her struggle to climb the stairs out of the pool. As she walked haltingly to the door leading to the locker room, I hope her heart felt my heartfelt prayers for her recovery and peace.
Prayer: God, things happen. That's the nature of life. We have the assurance that you are in all things, not causing them, but present in them. As we seek to pick ourselves up and keep going, let us also come to you, knowing you have encouragement and companionship to help us grow through our circumstances in your embrace and love. Amen.
That day, when I entered the pool, the lap lanes were already full, so I tapped a lady on the head and asked if I could share the lane. There is etiquette for lap swimmers - asking to share rather than just jumping in is one of them. She removed her goggles and paused by the edge of the pool.
"Sure you can share. I'll take the left side." she said.
"I'll take the right," I replied.
"I had hip replacement surgery two months ago. A nerve in my leg was scratched, now my foot is numb. I should have been back at work in two weeks, but I can't do anything. The doctors can't figure out what went wrong. I guess everything happens for a reason," she sighed looking down at the water.
Pondering her words, I replied quickly, "I don't think we can say, 'things happen for a reason'. Things just happen. I believe we can learn and grow from what happens to us, but I don't think we need to spend time exploring why - especially in circumstances like yours where even doctors have no explanation."
Sitting on the edge of the pool, I donned my cap, goggles and hand paddles, preparing to swim.
"You are showing up to swim and exercise - that is helping your recovery. Sometimes things just happen and we don't know why!" I hoped my words would offer encouragement down her path of rehabilitation that has lasted way too long.
DO THINGS REALLY HAPPEN FOR A REASON?
What would happen if I said to my friend who was recently diagnosed with liver and gall bladder cancer --- "Well, you know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who husband died suddenly from an aortic dissection and left her a widow with two pre-school children -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my former neighbor whose daughter was born full-term with a heart defect detected after birth, requiring surgery at three weeks -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who desperately wants to be a mother after losing four babies to miscarriage -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my neighbor who went through a difficult divorce after twenty-four years of marriage, disrupting and destroying a family until that previously worked harmoniously -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
Or to my friend who deals with the remnants of growing up in an abusive home -- "You know, these things happen for a reason."
What type of comfort would these words --"You know, these things happen for a reason" bring? What do all of these persons need, who are in the middle of heartbreak and confusion, who are struggling to stand upright as they deal with unexpected or ongoing events that disrupt their daily routine and wrench our hearts?
EMPATHY CARDS
Emily McDowell has created a new line of cards to express support to others in difficult circumstances. Based on her experiences with stage three Hodgkin's lymphoma, diagnosed when she was twenty-four, empathy cards emerged. I heard Emily interviewed on National Public Radio and also read about her cards in the Huffington Post.
One card beautifully decorated with bright red flowers and teal leaves says:
Please let me be, the first person to punch
The next person who tells you
Everything happens for a reason -
I am sorry you're going through this.
Emily's honest, sensitive, and realistic messages speak to the core of how in our uncomfortableness we try to be present to those who suffer.
SEARCHING
Searching for a reason when unfortunate, sad and life-changing circumstances come our way is natural. We want to know 'why'. Even when we can identify a reason that might pinpoint a cause, the underlying question, "Why did this happen or occur?" may never be known.
Trying to discover 'the reason' something happens can bring frustration and anger. Adding these emotions to limitations, grief, sadness, anxiety and despair that often come with unforeseen events adds another layer of struggle and suffering.
ANOTHER APPROACH - SECURE STRENGTH
Another approach might be, "Do we spend time looking for the reason for what happened or do we look for ways to secure strength to persevere through days that disrupt our normal routine and make us feel terrible?"
Shortly before I pushed away from the pool, I added to my initial remarks, "We can learn and grow from whatever comes our way without finding a reason."
My lane partner, who paused to adjust her cap and goggles looked at me and said, "That's a possibility I'll explore."
If we can identify a reason, does that make things bearable or offer security when our foundations are shattered?
After asking, "What is the reason for ______?" and no answer comes, consider these words, "What can I learn and how can I grow from _____?"
Invite God into your time of inquiry and desire. Ask God open your heart and reveal ways to grow and learn from what you are facing. Bring your emotions to God. God is eager to accept, welcome and hold all you are. As you explore ways to grow spiritually, emotionally and physically from events that happen, God may reveal areas of strength as you persevere through hard places, opening talents and abilities you have not discovered.
MY EXPERIENCE
A few years ago when I was going through a rough patch, I read an activity in a self-help book that suggested writing a letter to yourself using your non-dominant hand. Although I write with my right hand, my mother mentioned that when I used my left hand as a toddler, she covered my hand with hers, forcing me to use my right hand.
As an adult, trying out this letter to myself, I started gingerly, with a pencil in my left hand, writing numbers, then the alphabet, then simple words and sentences. Working with my left hand for several weeks, I eventually discovered my left hand draws and writes. I believe I was created to be left-handed because of the ease with which these tasks came.
My handwriting is different with each hand. When I write blog posts I use paper, pencil to record my thoughts ....with my left hand. Although I struggled to get through what I was experiencing, discovering the insight and freedom that flows from my left hand, brought joy and companionship that is still with me today.
The lady who shared her lane with me finished before I did, leaving me with the luxury of swimming in my own lane. Through the cloudy view of my goggles, I watched her struggle to climb the stairs out of the pool. As she walked haltingly to the door leading to the locker room, I hope her heart felt my heartfelt prayers for her recovery and peace.
Prayer: God, things happen. That's the nature of life. We have the assurance that you are in all things, not causing them, but present in them. As we seek to pick ourselves up and keep going, let us also come to you, knowing you have encouragement and companionship to help us grow through our circumstances in your embrace and love. Amen.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Delight - a high degree of pleasure, joy, enjoyment; something that gives great pleasure
In the late 1970s and early '80s, Mike served two churches in a small town in rural Indiana. Our parsonage was one block away from the railroad tracks. Sarah, our only child at the time, knew the familiar whistle and clack of trains that passed by our house frequently during the day.
Whether she was playing in her room or helping me in the kitchen of our shotgun house, when she heard the trains, she stopped what she was doing, ran to the front door, and greeted the passing train with a grin, a chorus of clapped hands and a few jumps. Blue train cars, that carried liquid gas, were her favorites. She turned in circles and giggled when they went by.
Most children live in delight as they explore their world. For a child, everything they see is brand new. Interacting with the simplest object or toy can bring a twinkle to their eyes, a smile to their face, a laugh or hands coming together to clap!
Delight eludes some children when love is not reflected in the mother and father, when a child has a serious illness or witnesses trauma among family members. Delight can be thwarted in these instances, as children need to focus on survival, or getting strength restored, or developing strategies to face their life circumstances.
In these cases, can a person find delight during adult years, to fill in the gaps formed during a destructive childhood?
I believe through God's provision, God can help an adult develop interests to create childlike experiences of delight.
Fifteen years ago, I discovered my non-dominant left hand. One day, I had a plain piece of white paper and a pencil. Listening to Christmas carols, I drew a candle, a musical note, and a bell that were mentioned in the lyrics. Staying with these objects in a way only God can orchestrate, I put them together to draw a child.
What amazed me about my new interest and ability in drawing was that art was my least favorite subject in junior high. I dreaded the required art class each week in seventh and eighth grade. When I was a freshman in college, I took an Introduction to Art class and received a "C", plummeting my strong "B" average.
Now, decades later, I was drawing adorable children with bright big eyes, and colorful clothing. In November 2005, I drew four children and entered my picture in a Christmas card contest sponsored by Mental Health America of Indiana, a group committed to empower those dealing with mental illness. My card was selected and used for the organization's holiday greeting.
Every day for nearly three years I drew children, boys and girls, some carrying candles, hearts and loaves of bread, others standing together holding hands. Drawing each child filled me with delight and brought joy to my heart.
My mother regarded the use of crayons a waste of time, hiding the battered shoe box of broken crayons on the top shelf of the coat closet. Because she brought out the box only a few times each year, I did not have opportunities when I was growing up to experience delight through that common, childlike creative expression.
God resurrected my little-used left hand and through several years of drawing, enabled me to experience delight that I missed growing up.
Prayer: We are told "with God all things are possible". God, I am an example of your power to bring forth abilities in my hand that were meant to be, but not encouraged. Thank you for generosity of care that enabled me to greet the self you created me to be - left-handed - and to bring delight drawing children and other objects. Come to others who may also need resurrection of self to bring fullness of living. All things are possible in you. Amen.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Finding Silence in A Crowd of People
I have difficulty finding silence for prayer or reflection. When I am home alone, I hear cracks and creaks from the house that are usually masked by activity. Birds sing outside my window and Lucy, the cat, who is usually curled in my lap when I attempt to find quiet, purrs and squeaks her form of "meow".
When I am driving, I listen to programs on National Public Radio. However, when I turn off the radio, seeking quiet, I hear cars around me. The hum of the car motor, the sound of the wind, a car's horn all penetrate the silence I desire.
Even swimming, when I hope for quiet, my reverie is disturbed by the sound of bubbles coming from breaths I take, by the amplified voice of the water aerobics instructor teaching a class, or water lapping against my body from another swimmer sharing my lane.
Occasionally I take walks in the woods at Conner Prairie or Ritchie Woods, a park in Fishers. Hoping to find quiet away from the noise of everyday life, I hear branches falling, tiny animals scurrying around, or birds singing.
Jesus regularly sought moments when he could go away, find silence and restore his soul. I know the importance of silence, I have trouble finding it ... until two Sundays ago, when I was sitting in church. Finding a pocket of silence in a sanctuary filled with over two hundred people astonished me.
There was a designated time during the order of worship for silent confession that lased for several minutes. No one sneezed or coughed, the children were quiet and I could finally absorb depths of quiet for which I'd been searching. Breathing deeply the silence for which my soul craved, was restorative.
When the pastor "intruded" with a summons to pray, my soul felt cleansed. I was ready to participate in the remaining parts of the service.
Realizing I would again find moments of silence in church the following Sunday brought joy to my heart. Who would think being in the same room as a large group of people I could find silence?
Prayer: God, sometimes we really have to search to find places of quiet where we can rest in you. Bring silence to our hearts so we can hear your voice and restore our weary souls, even while our surroundings are filled with noise. Help us become aware of pockets of silence that flow in the clatter of everyday life, where we can breathe deeply and find refreshment and renewal. Amen.
When I am driving, I listen to programs on National Public Radio. However, when I turn off the radio, seeking quiet, I hear cars around me. The hum of the car motor, the sound of the wind, a car's horn all penetrate the silence I desire.
Even swimming, when I hope for quiet, my reverie is disturbed by the sound of bubbles coming from breaths I take, by the amplified voice of the water aerobics instructor teaching a class, or water lapping against my body from another swimmer sharing my lane.
Occasionally I take walks in the woods at Conner Prairie or Ritchie Woods, a park in Fishers. Hoping to find quiet away from the noise of everyday life, I hear branches falling, tiny animals scurrying around, or birds singing.
Jesus regularly sought moments when he could go away, find silence and restore his soul. I know the importance of silence, I have trouble finding it ... until two Sundays ago, when I was sitting in church. Finding a pocket of silence in a sanctuary filled with over two hundred people astonished me.
There was a designated time during the order of worship for silent confession that lased for several minutes. No one sneezed or coughed, the children were quiet and I could finally absorb depths of quiet for which I'd been searching. Breathing deeply the silence for which my soul craved, was restorative.
When the pastor "intruded" with a summons to pray, my soul felt cleansed. I was ready to participate in the remaining parts of the service.
Realizing I would again find moments of silence in church the following Sunday brought joy to my heart. Who would think being in the same room as a large group of people I could find silence?
Prayer: God, sometimes we really have to search to find places of quiet where we can rest in you. Bring silence to our hearts so we can hear your voice and restore our weary souls, even while our surroundings are filled with noise. Help us become aware of pockets of silence that flow in the clatter of everyday life, where we can breathe deeply and find refreshment and renewal. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)