Thought For The Day

People in the developed world have been trained in power and performance principles, but not at all in a spirituality of imperfection, detachment, letting go, and least of all any kind of surrender. It sounds like losing, and we do not like that. (Yet we worship a God figure, Jesus, who is clearly losing by every criterion imaginable.) The Gospel is often non-understandable to the common mind, unless one has meditated long and hard on the message of the cross.

Surrender, to Western or comfortable people, sounds like losing when it’s actually accessing a deeper, broader sense of the self which is already content and totally abundant. We would call it the “true self” or who-you-are-in-God.

Once you move your identity to that level of deep inner Contentment and draw life from that deeper Abundance, why would you ever again settle for a scarcity model for life—“I’m not enough, this is not enough, I do not have enough”? In God and in grace, you are overwhelmed by more-than-enoughness!

What looked initially like losing becomes the ultimate finding.

Richard Rohr, Adapted from The Little Way

Prayer Of The Day

Lord, I believe.

Help me in my unbelief.

Amen.

Scabs and Scars

When I was in the second grade, I fell out of our climbing tree in the backyard. I don't remember what happened -- I think I just lost hold -- but I remember falling out of the tree backwards, landing flat on my back and the breath knocked out of me.

On the way down, a broken bit of branch tore a good long scratch in my right upper arm. It was the only wound from that fall.

What I also remember is the scab on that scratch. The scratch was long and thin, on my inner arm. It scabbed over hard and tight. And I remember sitting in class, in second grade, and every time I raised my hand to answer a question, the scab would pop apart a little. And it would hurt. I remember that even more clearly than getting the breath knocked out of me.

I was thinking about that today, driving the short hour home from spiritual direction, being literally knocked about by the windy day after an extended session of being spiritually knocked about -- not by my director, mind you, but by my own pain, and my own desperate struggle to hope.

My life right now is like that scab. Only bigger. That scab covers a two-year old wound and the months of continued wounding afterwards. It's a wound to the body, the soul, the spirit. It's a loss of trust, of belief, of innocence. It's layers of wounds over which is a hard, tight scab which I'm sure served a purpose for a time but is no longer much serving me. Because the only thing left outside is anger. And unbelief.

And I don't talk about it much. At all.

Every time, though, I raise my hand to speak of justice, of hope, of life, that scab pops apart a little. And it's terrifying. You'd think it would be nice, you know, a sign of healing, but it just hurts. What's underneath is tender tender tender and doesn't really want to be hurt again. And I resist that, and it's exhausting.

But on the other hand. When the scab begins to crack, the air can get in. And that tenderness can get out. And I need that. I need that. I am not this anger and unbelief that is left.

Today the scab cracked in a big way. Oh, it hurt. A lot. I'm exhausted. But feel a glimmer of hope (a little goat therapy this afternoon, including head rubs from Arlo, helped).

In second grade, eventually, the scab came off, bit by bit. I still have a scar on my arm from that fall, but the wound healed and stopped hurting. I like to look at that scar and remember that it is proof that in my life I have climbed trees without fear.

This wound will leave a scar as well. I wonder what I will think of it then.

Elk Bugling

A few weeks ago we went up to Rocky Mountain National Park with JT, BlueEyes, and a new friend T to hear the elk bugling (and to celebrate JT's birthday!). The bugling is the sound the boys make when they're, er, looking for a girlfriend. We stayed out there several hours til long after dark listening to the fascinating, and often funny, sounds. We were also treated to an amazing star show on a crystal clear (and cold!) night.

Here's a little clip of the bugling. Also heard are human giggling, and a &@%*!# diesel truck.







By the way, this is the first time I've ever posted my own video. Kinda cool.

Friday Five: Lifesaver Edition

Lifesavers are the theme today from the revgals...

1) Your lifesaving food/beverage.

Ice-cold Coke in a glass bottle, pepperoni pizza, pasta, and of course, chocolate!

2) Your lifesaving article of clothing.

I usually don't think of clothing this way...but I would have to say my Keen sandals. You can walk around town in them, hike in them, wade in river streams in them, jump waves at the beach in them, and lobby Congress in them. What they can't do! And when they begin to get dingy, just toss them in the washer and they come out like new.

3) Your lifesaving movie/book/tv show/music.

Movie: Well, actually, I'm not sure...
Book: Most recently it was "Love Poems From God" but it's a long list
TV: Baseball, and The Vicar of Dibley
Music: Indigo Girls, Patty Griffin

4) Your lifesaving friend.

Thankfully, another good list. My cielo is at the top...I won't try to make a list as I'm sure I'd leave somebody out! But if I've ever called you "my people" you're on it...

5) Your lifesaving moment.

One I can think of is my ordination in May, where the love and power of the Spirit and the community present (in more ways than one) were so palpable I could barely stand up. I remember that when I'm feeling discouraged...

Poetry Of The Day

thinking of "my" workers today, with just the amount of snow on the ground we have been praying for...a little work for them shoveling, and well paid, I hope...

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To Be of Use

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

Marge Piercy

Prayer Of The Day

I always appreciate being reminded of this --
--------------------------

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and that I think I am following your will does not mean I am actually doing so.

But I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all I am doing.
I hope I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know if I do this you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.

I will trust you always
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

-- Thomas Merton

I'll Be Working Today

Descanse En Paz

The inimitable Mercedes Sosa passed this week. Here's the extraordinary singer's signature classic, "Gracias A La Vida".



And another classic, "Solo Le Pido A Dios":



And another, "Todo Cambia":



And another, "Canción Con Todos":



And, finally, from her most recent recording, a duet of yet another classic, "La Maza," sung with Shakira, about the only singer I can think of who could hold her own with Mercedes.

Pray With Me?

Today the immigrant day laborers I visit with every week and I had a good laugh. It's the kind of laugh that is born of deep pain and anxiety. You know, the kind of laugh so you don't cry.

Work has been desperately hard to come by. Day labor by its nature is an incredibly vulnerable way to make a living, and in this economic crisis, even more so. Workers go days without work, weeks with only a day or two here and there.

They had told me before that they don't like it when it rains because there's even less work (although they're still there, waiting faithfully...just like last week, in a cold drizzle). But at least when it snows, there's work shoveling driveways and parking lots and such.

So I asked the guys today, are they hoping it snows? Should we start praying for snow?

Well, it all depends. Most of the time the snow here in Denver is a few inches, then the sun comes out the next day and melts it off in a few hours. No need to shovel.

But if we pray for more, well, you have to be careful there, too -- if it's too much, like waist-high or more, then you can't get out to go get the shoveling jobs (and the shoveling jobs can't get to you).

Then we began to giggle. What kind of snow should we be praying for? What would bring in shoveling jobs, and let them get out to find the jobs, on a steady basis? Everybody was measuring on their bodies -- here? this high? 3 weeks? 1? Finally we figured it out:

Knee-high snows, every two weeks. That should be good. So I will be praying for that. And that they get paid for their work, as there is rampant wage theft in day labor. So that, too.

I hope you'll join me.

What Would Jesus Do?

Thanks to Greta at Team Shiprah for this.

Requisite Whiny Monday Post

So, these things all happened to me today.

• Got a chip in my windshield driving on the highway to the bulk mail processing center to drop of an appeal letter mailing for my other job (as in, not my church work). The highway is being repaired and there was gravel and a semi kicked a rock into my windshield.

• Got to bulk mail center. Everything seemed fine, except apparently our non-profit mailing permit had expired. Last week. I can't pay it because I don't have a "company" credit card.
  Cart the mailing back to my car and go back to work.

• Get stuck behind trash truck emptying recycle bins. Tried to be thankful for recycling, but at this point was not feeling that thankful.

• Stopped at the green dry cleaner to drop off a couple of shirts. My reasonably new (as in, I've had it all of 3 months) has a tear in it. Must pay extra (not today, but soon) to have it repaired.

• Fouled up printing several appeal letters that were fouled up the first time. Forgot to put return envelope/reply form in and had to open the envelopes...and thus reprint them. Again.

AMENDED to add: AND, I wrote a blog post in which I left out important details such as the item that had the tear in it that I've had all of three months is: my clerical shirt.

Finally got home. Went for a long walk with my cielo. Fed the duckies. It's a beautiful day here in Denver, and I feel much better now.

Thought For The Day

And this, then,

is the vision of that Heaven of which

we have heard, where those who love

each other have forgiven each other,

where, for that, the leaves are green,

the light a music in the air,

and all is unentangled,

and all is undismayed.

- Wendell Berry

Um, Hello?

The last time I looked up, it was July.

What happened?

Towanda is busy girl, a busy girl indeed...

Thought For The Day

There is no ethical decision … which does not involve the Christian in a choice between obedience to the divine will and purpose, or infidelity.

- Jose Miguez Bonino
Argentinian theologian