Favorite Funny Signs Part 1

Good to know.  In Juneau the bear always has the right-of-way!

Of Slaves, Mercenaries, and Daughters

There are some who praise God for his power, some who praise him for his goodness to them, and some who praise him simply because he is good.  The first is a slave, fearful on his own account.  The second is a mercenary and desires profit for himself.  The third is a son who honors his father.  Both he who is fearful and he who is greedy act for themselves.  Only he who loves like a son does not seek his own.   -Bernard of Clairvaux 

We modern people assume that we have come far.  We can access the internet on our cell phones.  Isn't that proof enough that we are an advanced civilization?  But Bernard's words centuries ago describe my prayers pretty well.  Sometimes I am self centered.  I act like a fearful slave who loves God for his power, or a mercenary who loves God because of what I want Him to do for me. I don't want to be that way though.  I want to love God like a daughter, just because He is my father.    

I am so glad that He is a gentle father.  Each day he is uses joy and pain and His words and my sisters and brothers and the sunset and the taste of fresh peaches to show me who he is.  And when I see, really see, I can't help but love Him just for Him.  In those times, my prayers are not full of fear and greed.  I forget myself for a moment, curl up close to him, throw my little arms around his neck, and exclaim "Abba!  I love you!"  In those times, I only want to stay there, close to Him. 

Those Who See

As adults, we lose our eyesight.  

I don't mean the kind that can be corrected by a visit to the eye doctor; I am talking about a more important kind of vision.  

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, talks about seeing the world sacramentally, "to see everything as an outward and visible sign of inward, invisible grace. "

Some children are masters at this.  I remember years ago taking a walk with Courtney.  She was in third grade; her parents were divorcing, and I wanted to give her a little moral support.  We were walking along together and she suddenly stopped.  "Look at that flower!"  She forgot everything except the beauty before her.  I looked but couldn't see anything that could possibly have inspired awe.  She had to point to the flower right next to her before I could see it.  It wasn't too small for my eyes.  It was huge.  I couldn't see it, because it was a weed, an enormous thorny thistle in full bloom.  Patiently she taught me to see.  "It is soooo purple!  And soft!  Look, put your finger here.  Doesn't it feel like velvet?" 

Hating the nuisance and thorns of the thistle robbed me of my ability to be present and in awe of the color of the downy purple bloom.   

Seeing was a source of Emily Dickinson's genius too.  In the poem that inspired the name of this blog she says, 

Earth's crammed with Heaven and every common bush afire,

but only those who see take off their shoes...

I want to walk around my whole life with my eyes open and my shoes off, even when I walk among thistles.