Ash Wednesday

Even now, says the Lord,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the Lord, your God.

-Joel 2:12-13

Receiving the ashes from an Episcopal priest in the open-air church on the island of Maui is a far cry from my experience of last year’s Ash Wednesday. I find myself wondering is it time, distance, place, me or all of the above that rings differently? Last year’s celebration was in a more evangelical setting and I found that I was battling my own inner struggles with childhood and early adult notions of fire, brimstone and eternal hell.

This year’s rendering felt more attuned to my heart and state of mind. The here and now was more prescient than an out there view of penitence. My morning focus came from today’s verse (see above) in the Abbey of the Arts Lenten series where I landed on what it means to “rend my heart.”

“Rending” to me focuses on those tiny rips and tears that happen subtlely (and not so subtlely) throughout the day. Do I say a discourteous word to someone or think a prideful thought? While I in no means want to lean toward the do’s and don’ts of a faith by works theology, I am struck by the infinitesimal ways I can offend others and thus my own self (often without a word leaving my mouth or an overt action taking place.)

Today after the morning church service and breakfast, we took a drive to the Iao Valley, which is one of our personal guide’s favorite historical spots on the island. A great battle was fought in this valley and so many died there legend says the river ran red with blood for weeks after the engagement. There is also a lovely park with visual representations of the many immigrant populations of this island. My heart again turned to “rending” and the large tears and carnage that we as human beings inflict upon each other.

It has been another magical day in paradise. My heart has turned toward God again and I ponder what the rest of Lent will hold for me. What will the rending look like? Will there be healing too? Where will blood flow through the rivers of my life? What battles lie ahead?

This morning rending came defined as harsh and harrowing, and while the definition may not have changed, it feels like the turning (& tearing) of my heart continues on the path toward a God who heals and walks alongside through both peaceful times and tumultuous ones. It is a God worth turning toward.

Where is your heart turning this Lenten season? Can you feel the rending? Will you be open to God’s mending? Is paradise yours - here and now?

view inside Holy Innocents Church - Maui © h3images
Iao Valley © h3 images

Sea glass. Sea turtles. Sea breeze.

Amazing time away. The title of the post narrowly describes it.

The meditative time of sorting, sifting, digging and splashing for decades old pieces of tumbled glass is only describable to those who "get it." My sis and I... we do. The rest of the clan smiles and says "You look happy." (We are.)

Today's amazing glimpse of water enveloped a giant sea turtle who entertained us for what could have been hours. A massive head and enormous flippers bobbed up and down out of the water only feet away. The full portrait of the prehistoric shelled beast captured in the aquamarine wave back lit by the sun left us gasping for more.

Pink-tinted cumulus clouds wrapped the Valentine's evening as the sun set over the Pacific sea. How do you define paradise? Read between the lines if you must. All I have to say is, "I'm here."

Aloha, my friends.

The weather's beautiful. Wish you were here...

'surfer's on maui's north shore' © h3images

Guilt or Gratitude?

It’s a surreal experience, sitting in an aluminum tube looking out the window from 30,000+ feet to witness only vast expanses of water while knowing this morning I left my Seattle home where it was dark and rainy and by late afternoon, I will be feeling the warmth of the Hawaiian sun. My husband sits beside me listening to an i-pod and reading his Kindle. My daughter and her friend behind us with their manicured nails fiddling on assorted gadgetry to keep them busy. We indeed live a privileged life and at this very moment I am trying to feel gratitude instead of guilt.

My own reading topic of the moment is a book called Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky, and it is what prompted this post.

“I went shopping last week for a pair of shoes, and I thought to myself, “What kind of person would go shopping for a pair of shoes right now?” Community activist, New Orleans, nine months after Hurricane Katrina

As I read the above quote, I was filled with flashbacks of the last few weeks. As I mentioned in this post, I have spent lots of time working with individuals (myself included) who struggle with “good fortune” and “privilege” particularly in light of the recent devastation in Haiti. A few days ago, I had virtually the same thought: How can I be going to Maui when people are buried under rubble in Haiti? Never mind that the trip was planned months before the recent earthquake. Our thoughts don’t always make sense do they?

Lipsky says it is a common experience of caregivers to feel guilt over the disparity between our lives and the lives of those we serve. I felt a twinge of this same guilt yesterday as my co-facilitator and I finished up our weekly session of Deepening Spirituality through SoulCollage® at the Recovery Café. Our class represents a variety of participants, many who live on the margins of poverty. So when my friend prompted me to tell the participants that I would be absent next week, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I announced my absence and they quickly replied with “Where are you going??!?!” I hesitated a beat, breathed in and exhaled, “Maui.” “Maui?!? Are you kidding? Lucky you! We hate you. No fair. Teachers aren’t supposed to play hooky!” The good-natured barrage continued until I finally laughed, “Hey, sorry guys, I’m going and I’ll see you when I get back.” They responded playfully and I realized we were having an authentic encounter that brought us closer than ever in our humanity. It turned into a magically sweet moment and my resolve to not downplay my trip, but to send them a postcard and let them know I really was thinking of them.

Lipsky goes onto say when we downplay our own good fortune, we distance ourselves from others by not being genuine, and ultimately begin “to experience our own life with less abundance and joy than we truly feel.”

All of these moments fit into my primary pondering category of self-care leading to good care of others. My husband and I both declared a night or two ago that we are really tired. It’s been a stressful few months and we need to recharge. Yes, we are fortunate and can afford a plane ticket and a week in a nice condo – but in my heart I take along those with whom I work and know that I will be a better caregiver for this respite.

So, I’m curious – do you ever find yourself downplaying your good fortune? What is the impact for you? Do you feel better or worse? Does it bring you closer to others or increase the distance? And what of ‘authentic encounter’? How has it expanded your view of humanity?

Well, this may be the deepest (or only) thought you get out of me for a few days. Who knows? I’m off to recharge and setting aside my guilt for the time being. ☺

Aloha!

rainbow over honolulu © lucy 2.11.10

first glimpse of maui © lucy 2.11.10

Love. Fear. Sorrow. Transformation. Coincidence?

Synchronicity? God? Once again I am awed by the great presence that surrounds us. Shortly after writing this post, I opened up my e-mail to read the following. Coincidence?

When have love or suffering transformed me?

"Two universal and prime paths of transformation have always been available to every human being God has created: great love and great suffering. Only love and suffering are strong enough to break down our usual ego defenses, crush our dualistic thinking, and open us up to Mystery. They, like nothing else, exude the mysterious chemistry that can transmute us from a fear-based life to a love-based life. No surprise that the Christian icon of redemption is a man offering love from a crucified position…. Love and suffering are the main portals that open up the mind space and the heart space, breaking us into breadth and depth and communion." --Richard Rohr

#2 - from Inspired

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

~Jalal ad-Din Rumi

#3 - from Writing without Paper

"Here's the thing, say Shug. The thing I believe. God is inside you and inside everybody else. You come into the world with God. But only them that search for it inside find it. And sometimes it just manifest itself even if you are not looking, or don't know what you're looking for. Trouble do it for most folks, I think. Sorrow, lord."

~ Alice Walker

Ponder this with me... love. fear. suffering. transformation. synchronicity. coincidence.

Madrona means Mother

Oh my, do I have lots to share this morning?!??! So much to say. So little time! There is so much gloriousness floating around in the world, I can hardly stand it. Yesterday, I was greeted by this blogger for the first time. She mentioned how our blogs have much in common and when I read "What a beautiful mess this is", I thought she had borrowed something from me. I went searching to find some profound words about the madrona tree, thinking they were posted somewhere in this site. Alas, I had only penned them to my son back in December.

So, in a rush and without further adieu, I share with you these beautiful words about this amazing piece of nature.

“When a madrona branch withers and dies, it is not in the nature of the tree to allow it to rot or drop off. Its mother tree refuses to abandon it. Rather, as the young, healthy wood and bark grow, they creep up around the aged gray appendage like a bandage, a second skin, covering and protecting it, welcoming it back to tree-ness. No wonder the word “madrona” means “mother.” -- Luci Shaw

So, tell me... what do you think of the madrona? Nurturing? Co-dependent? Fabulous example? What images come to your mind?