glimpses of the eternal

I just had one of those profound experiences that leaves me...well...a little shaken or possibly a little more awakened. Angels? God? What is this power that surrounds us in the world? Do our ancestors and those that have “crossed over” come back to visit? To remind us? Yesterday was the anniversary of my co-worker Allyson’s death. She would have been thirty-five years old on Friday. Yesterday as I was standing in the lobby of the school reading the memorial plaque for Allyson, I turned my head and saw her walking toward me. It really took me off guard for a moment until I realized it was another young woman who attends the school. I have seen her before and each time I was shaken as I thought it was Allyson. Is it coincidence that I saw her at that exact moment yesterday?

I had a similar occurrence happen to me on Monday in nearly the same place when a woman I have never seen before walked by and caught my eye. It jolted me because I felt that I knew her. Then when I looked again - and she continued to hold my gaze - I realized she looked very similar to my friend, Dawn who died of cancer a couple of years ago…So, back to this morning’s moment. I had just finished doing some morning readings and was copying off a document I did not want to forget. My Bible tipped open and there was the bulletin from Dawn’s memorial service. There were those eyes looking into mine that I had looked into on Monday. Inside the bulletin I noticed the exact date of her death, March 2, Monday’s date.

The enormity and the mystery of these two events brings tears to my eyes. They remind me of how little I (we) know about the mystery of the universe. I am humbled and awed by this being/energy/person I call God. He is not tangible and of course He is. I cannot see Her face and yet I see it every day. I cannot feel those arms around me and yet they are here now. The mystery is astonishing. My journey has only begun and yet I feel like it has already lasted an eternity.

If I were to go looking for Allyson or Dawn today, I probably would not find them. Is that how it is with God? My prayer is that during this season of Lent (this season of life) I will at least make room and be open to the possibility that God will show up. The truth is that it usually happens in the most unexpected of places like standing in the lobby of a busy school or shuffling around in the papers on my bed. May I be open to the mystery today – and tomorrow – and always. May you too.

I am curious, of course…have you had similar experiences of the eternal? Where do you see the face of God? How and when do you feel the arms around you?

photos taken @ musee d'orsay 3.08

ashes and smudges

This morning my husband and I entered a church together for the second time in one week – not something we have done in nearly two years. Interfaith Community Church is simple and beautiful, reminiscent of a building you would see in a country pastoral setting rather than tucked amidst homes in an urban neighborhood. We could see the classic white steeple from a few blocks away. The sanctuary is two pews wide and about 12 rows deep. It is sparse with hard old pews and no flashy carpeting or stained glass windows. The thematic colors this morning were silvery sage with lilac ribbons wrapped around dried floral arrangements.

The room smelled of incense although for a moment upon entering, I asked my husband if it didn’t smell like marijuana ☺. A man of possibly 70 or 80 years of age handed us a bulletin and greeted us as we entered. I counted 12 people in total including the morning’s speakers. The room was to fill up to at least double that by the time the service began. Gong music played from a small stereo and candles were lit by the aging man and his spouse.

No one rushed over to greet us although several did nod their heads toward us in welcome. We were told more than once that every Sunday is unique and has its own theme. The service today was led by a woman who is a teacher of metaphysics and a Reiki master. She is very near my age and spent several years working in New Zealand and Australia while studying both Eastern and Western paths.

Her “sermon” began with the congregation performing the act of smudging to bring us into awareness of the room. We were asked during the process to consider where our minds were. Did we have judgments? Are we present in the room? Are we wondering what will come next? My mind went to my first “smudging” when we attended a parent workshop in Mexico. My thoughts mainly wondered what my husband was thinking about this church I had suggested. It was far from the traditional background with which we are more familiar.

Next we participated in a drumming exercise. I love drumming and while I brought my own drum, I chose to leave it in the car since I had no idea what to expect in this service. Hubby opted out of the drumming. He later explained that he wanted to just listen today. And so the morning went. It was filled with activities such as breath work (something I practice in yoga) and meditations, which I have done both on my own and in various workshops. All of the practices were activities in which I have found solace and clarity yet I have not necessarily placed them in the context of “church.” Hmmm…

This experience will take a little processing for me. Something seems to be stirring in me that begs for more community. I have become more and more comfortable with following the lead of my heart and coming to find that it usually trails to a pathway to God. In fact, most pathways lead to God when I listen closely. On Wednesday I received the mark of the ashes at a reasonably conservative church. God was there. Today, I received the smudge of the sage and cedar and listened to the rhythm of the drums. God was there. Like I said in my earlier writing, God just seems to keep getting bigger. This is already proving to be quite an interesting season of Lent and we're only five days in. Hmmmm...

making sense of glorious chaos...

The season of Lent is upon us. I gather snippets here and there. I hunger for them like crumbs sprinkled on an orphanage floor. I read words written by others. I pause and listen to the birds calling as they scratch for food and seek their own crumbs beneath the surprising snow that covers the morning ground. I am in awe of all the beauty that surrounds me. Jan Richardson says, "Ash Wednesday beckons us to cross over the threshold into a season that's all about working through the chaos to discover what is essential." I feel caught in the midst of a glorious chaos - standing at a crossroads of what to allow into my life and what to sift out.

I was touched by Sunrise Sister's poem about Ash Wednesday and also her post regarding her personal experience of the day. Here is the response I wrote to her: "i experienced my first marking with ashes last night. it was a ceremony of mixed emotions. i did not hear the words "from dust you were born, to dust you will return," but more words of repentance...i wrestle with what repentance means to me and what the old voices tell me it "should" mean. it would have been easier to hear "from dust to dust." ah, but this journey is not about the easy way is it?"

This morning continued my beautiful wrestling to find meaning in the chaos. Learning how to marry my old traditional ways (that have felt narrow in recent years) with the broader and bigger God that I am discovering. Abbey of the Arts shares her poetic and thoughtful vision of what her Lenten practice will and will not include. I have yet to name for myself what it means, but the words God is getting bigger keep weaving their way through my musings. I guess that is a start. It feels like this season is one of making space for a God who wants more presence in my life and more distinction. Distinction is an interesting word to me, because on the one hand it can feel limiting, but in this case it feels expansive and lovely.

Traditionally Lent is considered a time of fasting and repentance. Maybe I shall fast from the old ways of doing things. Perhaps I will repent of not being true to myself and how I desire my relationship with God to be. Hmmm...I think I'll ponder this a little more.

And you? Have you made plans for Lent? Will you experience it as a time of turning inward or one of expansion? Maybe the two are not so very different...

photos taken this morning on my walk

Easter Reflection

even in death and darkness, there is the light.
redemption. resurrection.
words of my childhood
words of my faith
words of my hope
the eyes of Jesus
death in the tomb
the light of new day
it is there
always there, heavenly Father
Mother of heaven and earth
light shines upon me and through me
the eyes of Jesus
head bowed
hair flowing
the cross & resurrection
new birth of Easter
hope
peace flows like a river from the light
to death and beyond
peace in the garden
fleeing the tomb
he is risen
she is risen indeed.

photo taken Easter morning 3.23.08 @ crown hill cemetery

Paschal Mystery

"Christians speak of the "paschal mystery," the process of loss and renewal that was lived and personified in the death and raising up of Jesus." --Richard Rohr

Welcome back. So, I am a little freaked out right now, because I read the above words from a morning reading AFTER I spent my quiet time alone this morning and wrote the following (unedited):

Trust. Trust you will be held with your strong hands and mine too. Trust the process. Unfinished. We wound and we are wounded. We are never healed, but always healing if we allow ourselves to heal--to trust we will go up and down and all around. Wounding. Wounded. We wound because we are human. We heal because we are made in God's image. Healed from the tomb. Nailed to the cross and risen again.

I have been nailed to the cross time and time again. Wounded and wounding. Healing. An unfinished woman. We are moving forward. Gratitude. The healing that continues to take place in me. The woundedness and the healing. Momentarily healed, but then a new wound appears or maybe a very old one we were unaware of. We have the opportunity to receive grace and heal again. Some wounds heal quickly and some are deep and leave scars that are like gouges to our soul, but our soul survives. No matter what, the light cannot be extinguished.

Wounded and healing. Loss and renewal. Is this the "paschal mystery" of which I write? What does healing and wounding look like for you? I'd love to know your thoughts. It is a mystery to me...a paschal mystery, perhaps ☺. (By the way--I do not recall ever hearing the term paschal mystery before this morning. hmmmmm....)