wordless sounds and sighs

The theme of waiting continues to follow me throughout this often crazy busy life of mine. I am surrounded by stillness and beauty at all turns if I just allow myself to slow down and listen.

Even during the past week when my time away was sudden and unexpected, I was able to find peace and serenity. It was almost as if God was stalking me ☺. I am finding that when I wait without agenda, the Spirit speaks for me in ways I cannot fathom: The whisper of trees. The joy of art’s creation. Birds flying. Eagles soaring. A dog’s warm nuzzle.

I am delighted to be back home and to share a few words here. “Few words” continues to be the key for me. And part of “God’s stalking” was the following Bible verse that showed up not once or twice, but three times from three different sources last week. I think it says it all.

“The Spirit also helps us in our own weakness. For when we do not know what to say in prayer, the Spirit expresses what we mean in wordless sounds and sighs.” --Romans 8:26

I would love to know how these words speak to you. Or if you are wordless right now, a simple “hello” would be delightful ☺.

Peace, friends!

photo by lucy 5.24.08. see related post here.

God is Here

I walked into the deep dark night, the crescent moon lighting my way. Tilting my head back to fill my eyes with the night sky, the Big Dipper shone straight above me, full and clear. Laughter filled my soul. God is here.

In the morning light, I headed for the river rock trail and a still small voice said, ‘Turn.’ I turned away from the path, toward the sea, and there before me was a magnificent eagle soaring in the clear blue sky. God is here.

The persistent morning wind blew through the sunlit trees. Waving. Calling. Singing. I am here. Yahweh. Spirit. God.

She built an altar out of discarded metal—a ladder representing her fears. She built an altar to a God she said she did not know—a God whose name she could not speak. He wooed. He called. He said, “I am here.”

She waited. She listened. She struggled. She railed against the hope. She slept. Peace came and washed over her through a flood of tears. She wept. She knew. She spoke the name. “God is here!!”

where dreams & reality collide

“For it is in giving that we receive.” St. Francis of Assisi

wish lives. dream lives. what is next? what is past? there is so much to consider as I sit here this morning. last week my “wish” life collided with my real life and it took my breath away. in god's perfect way, it snuck up on me and I didn’t even realize what had happened until it was nearly over. how often is that the case in life?

last saturday night, I sat next to my dear husband in front of four couples who had just completed the first soltura couples’ workshop (that i had the privilege of co-writing and co-facilitating.) the couples snuggled. they glowed. they danced...hope filled their eyes. they had worked hard. they had discovered a “third way”. during the course of our four days together, they had indeed fled. they fought with each other, with themselves, with me. but in the end, they stayed. they were present. willing. open to possibility. it was miraculous to watch.

and what of my personal “collision” you might ask? as I addressed them for one official last time, tears filled my eyes and my heart welled with joy and gratitude. “thank you,” I said. “this is a dream come true for me.” even then I wondered from where did those words come? I sensed deeply that they were not just sentimental ramblings, but words that felt whole and true. it was not until the next morning as I was talking with another facilitator that I remembered the prophecy I received in the spring four years ago. in it were the words, “follow your dreams. find out what they are. do them with bill. save the families.” there was much more to that story, but even as I write this morning I realize that even now I am overcome by amazement at God’s grace and I feel the beauty and power of that collision of dream and reality.

I did not know I was on a path to dream fulfillment. I was just following my heart. the twists and turns were many. the road was long. the goal not even in sight. it snuck up on me and I didn’t even realize what had happened until it was nearly over. how often is that the case in life? ☺

what dreams are brewing for you today? will you be open, willing & present to see them? will you be open to the possibility of a new way?

may the god of grace be with you today. peace.

photo by h3images

Witness

Yesterday I saw God. I saw God in the face of a child. In the eyes of grown men. In the embrace of a friend. In the glow of my husband. All…Skipping. Running. Resting. Excited & joyful. Tender & strong. Men of all ages. Young. Old. In-between. All of them, little boys & men of strength. Unwavering. Speechless & shouting. Hoarse & ever so clear. On their knees & scaling the highest mountain. God was there. Brother and sister. Two souls connected as one. Mother and daughter. Heart sisters. All joined together. Magic. Holy. Eternal. The eyes of a child. Yesterday I saw God. Amen.

Sand dollars

Sand dollars. Whole. Broken. Covered with bugs and barnacles. Green hats of seaweed finery. Perfect on the outside. What is on the inside? Decorated. Plain. Upside down. Right side up. Holes all the way through. Broken in half. Waiting to be taken back to sea or taken home by a passerby.

Last week I walked the beach at Soltura for one last bit of leisurely solitude before the new workshop participants arrived. Little did I know that the words above (penned during those moments) would become the metaphor my mind returned to when asked to share my recent experience.

Words seem so inadequate & insufficient. Even powerful words like glorious, magical, terrifying, magnificent, pure & true. Learning. Growing. Changing. The Light. The words are everywhere if only we open our eyes to look and to see the miracles before us.

"Whole" with finery and beauty keeping others at bay. Broken wide open yet still hidden behind tears and confusion (bugs and barnacles). Boldness that says, ‘Get away!’ The caretaker, the mother, the protector—looking out for others while slowly letting their “control” cover them over like tiny bugs invading the shells. Holes in the middle. Others broken in two. Torn between two sides with a gaping space filled with nothing. The nearly invisible one—buried deep in the sand on the edge slightly away from the others. Will you notice that one?

We see each other in each other. Together we gently pick up the shells. They cannot return to their original form. They will never be the same and yet they will be whole. The beauty is that we get to re-define what wholeness looks like. Maybe it looks like glorious, magical, flawed & broken, pure & true sand dollars on the beach.

Sand dollars and people—are they really so different?