A Prayer...

I find myself returning repeatedly to Celtic Daily Prayer a prayerbook and devotional rich with the words and wisdom of ancient saints. Today I share a prayer from that book attributed to William Barclay.

We hold before God:
  those for whom life is very difficult;
  those who have difficult decisions to make, and
  who honestly do not know 
  what is the right thing to do.


We hold before God:
  those who have difficult tasks to do and to face, 
  and who fear they may fail in them;
  those who have difficult temptations to face, 
  and who know only too well that
  they may fall to them, 
  if they try to meet them alone.

We hold before God: 
   those who know that they can be their own worst enemies.


We hold before God:
  those who have difficult people to work with;
  those who have to suffer unjust treatment, 
  unfair criticism, unappreciated work.


We hold before God:
  those who are sad because someone they love has 
  died;
  and any who are disappointed in something for 
  which they hoped very much.

If you find yourself in any of these difficult places today, friend, I hold you before God.

Of Flow, and Ebb, and Terror

Last time I shared some excerpts from a favorite essay by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Today I share a few 0f her thoughts from the same essay in Gift From the Sea on the subject of relationships.

 So beautiful is the still hour of the sea's withdrawal, as beautiful as the sea's return when encroaching waves pound up the beach, pressing to reach those dark rumpled chains of seaweed which mark the last high tide.

We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanence, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern. The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.

These words humble and instruct me as I continue to foolishly attempt to resist the ebb and flow of my relationships, to keep the tide high upon the shore. I need to learn from Anne as my young adult children scatter around the world flying farther from me both physically and emotionally. I need to learn the art of living in the present with my dear husband, and with my step children whose emotional tides run very high and low. I need to learn to trust in the early morning when my terror that the tide will never return masks the truth like a fog upon the water.

"The Breathtaking Empty Space of An Open Door"

Yesterday I reread a short essay by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, from her wonderful book Gift from the Sea. It has spoken to me many times before, but each time I read it the words seem fresh, as if I am reading them for the first time. I am sharing parts of it with you today and next week. I hope you enjoy them too.
Beth

Is it not possible that middle age can be looked upon as a period of second flowering, second growth, even a kind of second adolescence? It is true that society in general does not help one accept this interpretation of the second half of life. And therefore this period of expanding is often tragically misunderstood...The signs that presage growth are so similar, it seems to me, to those in early adolescence: discontent, restlessness, doubt, despair, longing. But now these are interpreted falsely as signs of decay. In youth one does not as often misinterpret the signs: one accepts them, quite rightly, as growing pains. One takes them seriously, listens to the, follows where they lead. One is afraid. Naturally. Who is not afraid of pure space - the breathtaking empty space of an open door? ...

But in middle age, because of the false assumption that it is a period of decline, one interprets these life-signs, paradoxically, as signs of approaching death. Instead of facing them, one runs away, Anything, rather than face them. Anything rather than stand still and learn from them. One tries to cure the signs of growth: to exorcise them, as if they were devils, when really they might be angels of annunciation.

Angels of annunciation of what? Of a new stage in living when...one might be free for growth of mind, heart, talent; free at last for spiritual growth...

Eavesdropping on My Funeral

Thanks for your patience while I was away. It is good to be back. I won't be back to my normal rhythm of life until September though, so please be patient and check back if I don't post weekly. Thanks!

The classic Tom Sawyer is one of my favorite books. In one section Tom and his friends have been off playing pirate while the whole town searched for them. When the good people of the town became convinced that the boys had drowned in the Mississippi they planned a funeral. The boys hid in the gallery and listened with glee as the preacher "drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads..."

I sometimes wonder what my own funeral will be like. I think it might be fun to listen, like Tom, Jim, and Huck to the things people say about me. What will they say? What will stand out about me and the way I am choosing to live when I am gone? 

Hopefully, like the good townspeople mourning Tom and company, people won't be harshly honest in their appraisal of my life. I am a small person leading a small life. On the other hand, God won't alter his appraisal of the way I spent the time he gave me on earth just because that life is over. If pleasing God requires doing great deeds my life will never measure up.  Am I spending my life the way I should?

Lynn, a new friend of mine reflected on her blog (http://lynnetangible.blogspot.com/) about Jesus' answer to the question "What must we do, to be doing the works of God?" She said that his answer is surprising because it is not about doing anything. He said, "This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent." (John 6:28-29)

My friend asks, "Does God long for us to believe--we who are already believers?  I think he does.  When our prayers don't get answered the way we like (could we possibly be praying the wrong kinds of prayers?), when dreams shatter and the unthinkable happens, do we "believe in him whom he has sent"?

If I get to hide in the gallery of heaven and listen as friends and family talk about me after my life is over, maybe the best thing they could possibly say about me would be simply "she believed".