wage love

Saturday night I had the privilege of attending Sabbath dinner at a friend’s house. He is a man who has struggled with his anger and not being able to connect with others in a loving way. The focus of the evening was to put away politics, the market, and other worries that keep us from finding delight in who we are. We began the evening with the lighting of candles and listening to a beautiful song by Kate Wolf called “Give Yourself to Love.” We then broke bread and shared wine in an act of communion as we began the shared meal.

The purpose of this post was not to write the details of this Sabbath evening, but to recall several moments that I have encountered during the last few days. Our host shared with us a picture of him at less than one year of age. He was being held in the arms of a loving aunt. As he shared this photo, he recalled that her arms had been a place of safety, trust and love for him while growing up in a household devoid of affection. As he spoke, my own mind turned to my beloved kindergarten teacher and I could feel her warm embrace and my own sense of safety and love when I was wrapped in her enveloping bosom. Being in her arms was a beautiful and pure experience of unconditional love—much as I imagine my host received from his aunt.

Yesterday, I listened to another story from a woman of a different culture. She is one of several daughters in a family that values boys most highly. She had been raised to believe that she was nothing. She spoke of many years of emotional abuse--first at the hands of her parents and then for 30 years with a self-centered husband. Somewhere deep inside this woman, however, there was a spark that kept her alive and reaching for the love she knows is available, but does not believe she has yet found.

All of these stories led me to wonder about what it is that keeps us searching for love. What are the moments that give us hope in the midst of chaos and hurt? What is the impact of a simple hug or cradling in the arms? What is the power that lets us know love exists?

The woman of this story believes she is searching for God’s love. She knows it is there. She believes it to be true. She wants to believe it in human form so that she can believe it to be true of God. Again I wonder…can the two be separated? Is that not what being incarnational means? Jesus was God incarnate. Is it not our greatest mission in life to love God and love our neighbors as ourselves? Do we not share incarnational love when we give ourselves unconditionally to another?

So, that’s what is on my mind this morning. Yesterday, Abbey of the Arts offered a beautiful post called, Wage Peace. My challenge to you (& me) today is to Wage Love. You never know when you might be someone’s spark that keeps the hope of love and life alive.

“Give yourself to love if love is what you’re after.
Open up your heart to tears and laughter.” --Kate Wolf

photos from st. severin church & musee d'orsay -- paris 2.08

hope

A dear blogging Canadian friend captured my heart this morning with her post which I have audaciously copied verbatim. It is one that I would love every voter to see and take to heart (regardless of party or candidate affiliation!) Please get out and vote if you have not already!!!

[photo by Callie Shell]

Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but rather the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it turns out.

-- Vaclav Havel

a thinning veil

this weekend has been one of both beautiful and still celebration as well as deep sadness and grief. sometimes i wonder how i put one foot in front of the other and other times the joy grips me and i am overcome with delight.

one of this weekend's blessings came in the form of this picture of my mother. it was sent to me by my sister and to my knowledge i had never seen it before. there is something about the photograph and the caption that my sister wrote, "she just wants to be a little girl," that has brought me a sense of peace and connection with my mother that i have not felt for quite some time.

mother died almost 5 years ago and mentally left several before as her mind was taken over by the dreaded alzheimer's. this weekend as i have spent time near my little altar, it has felt like the veil between 'here and there' has indeed been thin. something about this weekend reminded me of these words from richard rohr's daily devotion:

"surrender is something that is done to us.

you can't pick ahead of time which dragon you'll slay. the opportunity always sneaks up on you, and then all you can do is be ready."

am i ready? who knows? i think that is all i can share for now. it may or may not make sense to you readers. i am not totally sure it makes sense to me, but i do know that i wanted and needed to further mark this honoring of ancestors and the beginning of a new year.

there may be more later...or not. wishing you peace.

Opening the door to a new year…

There was a time not so long ago when I would have considered that thinking of the new year on October 31 would be rushing things just a bit. Through this crazy world of blogging, however, I am daily introduced to new people and new ways of thinking. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn of new celebrations and ways to think of “old” holidays from new (and ancient) perspectives.

One of the lovely introductions this year was to the Celtic New Year called Samhain. (I learned of this celebration in Crossing the Threshold: New Year, New Beginnings by Christine Paintner). One of the significant features of Samhain is the honoring of ancestors…particularly those who have gone before us into the spiritual realm upon leaving their earthly bodies.

Throughout this week, I have been thinking of those people and beings who have "gone before me." I had great visions of ways that I would like to honor them on this day. Alas my time and technical abilities (artistically speaking) are somewhat lacking and so my celebration has been simple…and possibly all the sweeter because of that simplicity.

Today I made the simple altar featured here. In it (from left to right) are photos of my mother and father, my mother’s family of origin (she is the blonde girl in the center), my husband’s mother who died the same year as my father and, last but not least, my beloved Curry. This afternoon after arranging the photos, I sat before them and played Sarah MacLachlan’s beautiful song, "I will remember you." It was a sweet time and I could feel the presence of each being—including my mother-in-law who I never had the privilege of meeting.

This evening just as the sun was setting, I lit the five candles—one for each photo. And so, as the trick or treaters have come and gone throughout the evening, my husband and I have sat here with our ancestors—feeling their presence and honoring them in our own way.

Throughout the week, my brother and sister were kind enough to share some memories with me of our family. As the youngest sibling by several years, I have often felt like some memories slipped away before I had the opportunity to know they even existed. Tonight I shared one of these vignettes with my husband. It was a new story for me and one I delight in about my mother’s father, Birt (he sits to my mother's left in the group photo.) Here is the story as told by my brother:

A story I remember about Grandpa (Birt M.) regards the reason he
dropped out of school at about 8th grade. (It might have been 6th grade.)

When he started first grade, he figured that he knew just about
everything there was to know. Each year he found there was more that he
didn't know. He decided the best course was to abandon school before he
found out that he didn't know anything at all.

I recall a story of his arrival in Bethany with not much but what he
could carry. He found a job as a carpenter, but had to borrow a saw for
his first day on the job. He earned enough to buy his own tools, and
built his livelihood from there. He did well. Maybe it's a good thing he
didn't keep going to school to find out how much he didn't know.

My grandfather went on to be quite the entrepeneur and land owner as well as from what I remember a pastor of sorts. Although he died when I was about 12 years old, his story reminded me of my own tag line here @ Diamonds: The more I learn the less I know. It is no small wonder how the blood of our ancestors runs through our veins.

Wishing you a happy new year and hoping you might share a few of your own memories here with me & mine ☺.

happy halloween

What Your Love of Candy Corn Says About You

You are a very strange character. Much stranger than people realize at first. Like candy corn, the more people think about you - the weirder you seem. While you are quite quirky, that's what is lovable about you. You are bright, bold, and simply happy. What could be better?

What Does Your Favorite Candy Say About You?