Shining Spirit

While reading Psalm 139 recently, I came to verse five: “You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.” Sometimes it feels like a very heavy hand. It feels that way at times because I foolishly equate blessing with good health, lots of friends, a “get out of jail free” card to use as necessary, tickets to the World Series, a dog that never barks at the wrong times, and a partridge in a pear tree. Blessing is what makes me feel good. Thanks be to God! More, please. But that hand gets heavy when I remember that “blessing” is much more than moments that make me feel good. A major component of blessing is responsibility, even accountability. I am blessed to bless. I receive in order to give. I am not the destination of the blessing; I am the distribution center. Without doubt I am thankful for the hand on my head, but it’s not a hand that pats me and says “Good boy!” I feel that hand turn my head toward the direction of injustice or pain, refocus my looking until I see with new eyes and hear with new ears. Trust me, I love blessings And I am grateful. But, I have to keep telling myself that blessings don’t stop here. I believe that pat on my head has two purposes: to foster in me a sense of spiritual gratitude and to frame my life in relation to the beloved creation.

Thank you, blessed Spirit, for resting your hand on my head. Show me what I need to see and fill me with the joy of your touch. Amen.

I wonder if he would remember me? Probably not. We met for only a short time there on the back deck of the cabin. I wonder if I might have been the first human person he had seen close up. Maybe. He didn’t appear to be afraid. He gave me a good going over with his bright eyes, as I did of him standing there in his yellow jacket. We talked for a few moments…well, I talked and he listened courteously. We made a momentary bond. And then we went our separate ways. A momentary friend. His mind wondered about me, as mine did about him.

Do you have friends you wonder about? “I wonder how old….is doing these days.” Maybe today would be a good day to jot off a note saying “Hello, my friend. Just thinking of you.” Who knows…you might be sending a note at just the right time, just when a friendly memory is most needed. Think about it. Today might be the day you make a huge difference in someone’s life by just saying “Hello”. Consider this my “Hello” to you, a blessing sent your way, a generous thought held for you, a re-connection over time and distance. I hope your heart will be at peace today, your spirit receptive to the embrace of God. You are remembered. You are alive in my mind and in my heart. That’s what friends are for.

When I’ve had my fill of murder-mysteries, foreign intrigue dramas, and political parodies, I watch elephants. You might try it sometime. I’ve learned a lot about life from watching and learning about these magnificent creatures. Have a look at an ongoing UTube series called The Herd, an info-inspirational series about African elephants abandoned or orphaned as infants and now cared for in an elephant rescue community. These huge, lumbering giants play like children; they tussle and throw dirt with their long trunks, love swimming in large ponds. They form a community based on respect, sharing, and fierce loyalty. When there appears to be an emergency or danger as they roam in the bush, without any apparent signal, the whole herd rushes together, side to side, back to back, usually in a large circle
arrangement so they can defend each other. When a newly born elephant is introduced into the herd, one of the female adults becomes the baby’s new mother, tenderly caring, escorting, and protecting the little one. When a member of the herd wanders off in search of food and forgets to check out with the larger group, the whole herd assembles and goes out in search of the prodigal. They trumpet special sounds that the wanderer will recognize and they show definite relief when the lost one comes home.
Elephants grieve, too. When an old elephant dies, all the rest of the herd assembles around the corpse and make heart-breaking guttural sounds, much like our crying.

You and I share this beautiful garden with so many spectacular friends and neighbors. The more we get to know them, the better we know ourselves. For they teach us about life from their ancient perspectives.
In your prayers, be sure to thank God for the gift of this marvelous world and all our sisters and brothers who inhabit it with us. When Jesus posed the question: “And who is my neighbor?” I like to think that he meant more than human beings. Even elephants.

Do you see what I see?
It wasn’t long ago that an angry fire raged along
our peaceful Santa Cruz River, wiping out bushes,
trees, and favorite nesting places for a variety of
birds. Great mushrooms of black smoke billowed
along a mile of the river, smoke mixed with
bright orange flames. It was very sad to see.

I walk the river path regularly, or ride my bike, and
I always enjoy a conversation with beautiful nature
who shares the land with me. But, since the fire,
the birds have been silent, the ground is covered in
black soot and ash, trees that survived are charred
and scarred. The river continues her flow, but
on both sides of her pathway, the banks are
devastated. All is gone.
Until…do you see what I see?
Little green patches of life, clusters of
determination, are already appearing,
as if to announce: “See, a future emerges
from the flames.”
In faith, I believe there is an eternal rhythm
just below the surface of our reality; it throbs
with life, survives life’s brutalities, withstands
our sadnesses, and announces
tomorrow in spite of today.
That rhythm is a gift that blesses those
who see green grass emerging from
devastation and sorrow.
Do you see what I see?

“Let’s sit down and talk about it. I know we can reconcile our misunderstanding, find those treasured points of friendship that have meant so much for so long. Here, come sit with me on this stone; there’s room for both of us. Let’s let the water wash away hurts or disappointments. Surrounded by sacred life in this oasis of hope, let’s find the way together.”

“How very good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity.” Unity, a fundamental principle of our faith. What a prize to possess. Take two steps back and look at the dis-unity that fosters isolation and ill-will, the unnatural separations of brother from brother, sister from sister, when the fundamental principle of life is just the opposite: we are by design and by nature, one common expression of life lived out in great diversity. But we belong to each other. I am my neighbor. And when there is separation, neighbor from neighbor, caused by misunderstanding or mistake, the wound will not heal unless we sit together on that large stone bench by the river and allow reconciliation to roll over us, the cleansing grace of The Spirit.

We’ve come too far to watch it turn to dust. Come, sit with me. Let’s figure out a way to walk out of the shadowy forest, safe as it seems, into the light of restoration. Friend.

Just when you think you’ve seen the best one ever! But maybe there is no “best” with God. Maybe the “best” is yet to come. As the popular song declares: “I Can Only Imagine.” Really? According to St. Paul in his letter to the church at Corinth: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” (I Corinthians 29)

Why not build your day around this idea: No human word can describe, no emotion can feel, no eye can capture the fullness of God’s love for all creation. A glimpse is all we’ve got. For now, enough is all we can see, even in the magnificent sunrise over the mountains. Live today in the vision we have. Hope, in faith, for the continuing clarity that will come in time…God’s time.

You are loved! You are highly valued! You matter! And the best is yet to come.

Lord, may I be wise enough today to discern your presence and courageous enough to ride upon the breath of your love. Help me be sensitive to your dynamic leading so that I might know when to change the direction of my journey, thus keeping me on course toward the abundance Jesus described, the inevitable opportunities for compassionate caring, and for those moments when you will call me to rise to higher levels of commitment, even to the prophetic utterance of justice and mercy. I spread my wings, Creating God. Lift me in your love. Amen.

“Sometimes you won’t know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”
Thank you, Dr. Seuss.

You and I are memory collectors. We live one day at a time, experience that day in people and events and varied encounters, and at the end of the day we say we have lived. Tomorrow we will do it all over again. But somewhere along the line, we realize that life is more than a collection of experiences. We realize the basic truth of what Dr. Seuss said: it takes reflection, thoughtful consideration of experience to give it meaning. I never realize the deep meaning of beauty, expressed in that rose, until I sit with it in reflection and appreciation. Most often that happens when I reflect on the memory of seeing it. You and I are memory collectors and the value we assign to our days comes when we think deeply about them, replay the moments in the reflective light of spiritual values, like compassion, truth and mercy. Moments not considered, not assigned value in reflection, are lost in time. Ah, but when I remember the rose, recall how it glistened in the warm sun, how that amazing fragrance filled the air, then even for a brief moment, I reinforce beauty in the world and in my little life.

I write this for two reasons. First, I am committed to a spiritual journey that says you and I know God best when we remember, in reflection, sometimes in hindsight, the wonders of God we experience each day. A sudden revelation of God in the moment is breathtaking, but for most of us, the amazing grace and love of God is felt in the sorting of moments in prayer or spiritual reflection. It is in the appreciative, quiet moments of remembering that I identify deep, profound value and sense the living presence of The Sacred. Second, deep human relationships become the source of amazing joy, strength for the moment, hope in darkness when two people practice the presence of God by sorting common memory in the light of God’s unfailing reality. On this particular day, I am sorting through sixty-four years of memories collected with the one person who has held my hand along the way and who, God willing, will walk by my side as the journey continues. May we all live each moment with hope and spiritual integrity. May you experience the amazing grace of God as you sit with the memories that have shaped your life, giving thanks to God.

Today, the first day of the week,
the first day of the month,
at first light, my first thoughts,
Generous God, are of your
blessing and your sustaining presence.
Today I will…
be among those who meditate and
reflect upon your grace shown in
the life of Jesus…
share the blessings I receive
and offer myself in witness to
the abundance of life in Christ…
try to live the Gospel into reality…
foster gratitude, justice and mercy
in all my activities of this day.
I will do these things, Lord,
if you will grant me the courage
and the will to try. May all
creation celebrate on this day
which the Lord has made. Amen.

It is a “weekend” Lord;
not a weak end, but the
end of something that will
begin again, end again,
begin and end with the
flow and purpose of your
dream for creation. Thank
you for days that flow together,
not simply a sequence of
hours, but a continuity of
grace and blessing. You
are the sacred flow that
brings meaning to the moments
and endless joy to weeks that
never end. Thank you. Amen.