Shining Spirit

In the garden of my imagination
there is a small stone bench, just big enough for
two, a place where we can sit and find
delight in conversation and watch the flowers grow.
Yes, you are correct. My garden grows without the
details of manicure. Pink flowers spill onto the
lovely stone walk. Vines are heavy with blooms that
might otherwise be snipped or sorted. The fingertips of
one plant reach out to those of another.
Too much, do you think? Too animated?
Oh, no. In the Garden of My Imagination, life flourishes.
Come, sit with me on the stone bench.
Watch. Listen. In time your heart will smile
at the sound of laughter hiding among the clumps
of green grass, or at the song the wind sings as she tosses yellow
blossoms into the morning air, blossoms that fall
like confetti at our feet.
Welcome to the Garden of My Imagination.
It is a special place where all lines flow and curve,
where blending replaces boundaries.
I’m glad you are here.
You make it even more beautiful.

In case you haven’t noticed, I love to photograph birds in flight. Some of them don’t look exactly coordinated walking around on the ground, but when they spread their wings and take off…it’s magnificent. This graceful Hawk is an example. I remember “Gooney Birds” on Midway Island. Large, sturdy birds, they are comedians when they take off…running and stumbling, falling this way and that until those large wings catch the air and they glide smoothly into the sky. It’s the same way when a Gooney Bird lands. Glide so smoothly and effortlessly until its big feet touch the ground. Crash landing! The bird rolls and tumbles, sometimes beak over feet, then finally collects himself to waddle off to his nest. In flight, birds are beautiful to behold.

It’s the same way with people like you and me. When the Wind of Spirit lifts us, motivates and informs us, we can soar. So many times Jesus talked of Spirit and life and encouraged his listeners to spread their wings…trust and follow His way. Once you try, you will notice that the view in flight is life-changing. You’ve never really experienced the wonder of life until the Spirit becomes the wind beneath your wings.

Looks like a good day for flying, don’t you think?

What a wonderful illustration of individuality. There is not another tree exactly like this one in the whole world. How refreshing it is to see uniqueness instead of cookie-cutter similarity. And the tree’s gifts to its surrounding are just as special. Come on, climb up into those asymmetrical arms and look at the world around you. The view is really good from up here. Or sit in the abundant shade provided by thick leaves. Or take out your sketching pad and capture uniqueness on paper. Take a nap. Write a poem. Create the lyrics of a never-heard-before song.

The point is: glances won’t do. You have to stop and make friends with life. Today you will see or hear uniqueness more than once. At least, you will have the opportunity. Be on-guard for the beautiful, alert to the alternative. In those moments, it is likely that you are in the presence of The Holy One who so often comes to us in disguise. Maybe like a tree whose undulating arms reach out to us in love and remembrance. Maybe like the man on the corner who is hungry or the woman who grieves the loss of her loved one. No “maybe” about it.

I’ve just returned from San Diego, my escape haven when summer heat tries to choke the life out of Arizona. There’s a limit to the number of 110 degree days mind and body can tolerate. Many years ago, I lived in San Diego and since those days I have visited the beautiful landscape dozens of times. Balboa Park, the Botanic Gardens, wonderful seafood, and Cabrillo Point high above the city in Point Loma always offer relaxation and joy. Did I mention magnificent beaches? So, having just returned, and re-living the charm of the Southern California city, I have begun to wonder why I am drawn to the Cabrillo National Monument site. It provides a stunning view of the entire city, overlooks the San Diego ship channel with its commercial traffic and the U.S. Navy vessels sailing in and out, and it is adjacent to the Cabrillo National Cemetery.

And I think that’s the answer. I am deeply moved by the peaceful beauty of that sacred ground. Hundreds of rows of white marble headstones follow the contour of the undulating hillside. Thick green grass, manicured carefully, blankets the grounds. It is starkly beautiful, especially when you drive slowly along the narrow streets and read an assortment of human history. A military member and his wife rest side by side. Who was the young Lieutenant whose name is etched in the stone? The Corporal who came back from Viet Nam to this quiet sanctuary? World War II, Korea, View Nam…so many places from which they returned, having offered themselves in service and sacrifice.

And this year, the trees dotted through the grounds have decided to bloom bright red and to offer shade under their wide-spread arms. Morbid? No. Melancholy? Maybe. Moving? Without question. I love the seaside city with its delightful variety of attractions, but I am irresistibly drawn to the hillside, a holy place of silent rest. Upon my return from this recent visit, I sit, at this moment, in the darkness of the early morning and I pray with genuine thanksgiving for all who rest in the beautiful hillside, a chorus of courage. And I end my prayer with these words: Please, God, no more.

The sailboat watches as two rather strange looking boats pass. No, not excursion boats. Not somebody’s houseboat. They are tugs sailing out of the San Diego channel to meet a huge Navy ship entering the port. Tugs are a welcome sight to the Navy ship’s CO because they are going to come alongside and help guide the bigger ship along the narrow channel and into a berth at the Naval Station. Could the Navy ship go it alone? Probably, but risks are much higher without the tugs to lend a hand. In some circumstances, a Harbor Pilot would be onboard one of the tugs and would go aboard the big vessel and actually relieve the Office of the Deck. The Pilot now has the ship under his control for a safe journey to pier side.

I’m thankful for tugs and Pilots who brought my ships home during the Navy Chaplaincy years. They remind me of caring friends who “come alongside” and sail rough seas with me. In times of distress or deep disappointment or death, I know they are with me. They are a steadying force, a source of calm. They help me through the challenges and into the safety of the harbor. And I know The Pilot is standing beside me, the One who has sailed these waters before and knows the way home.

In these days of national and international upheaval, in times of personal turmoil or grief, it is comforting and encouraging to feel the hand on your shoulder. The channel is narrow, but the Pilot knows the way.

I prayed for peace and I found myself in the middle of a mess. Peace was waiting for someone to speak her name.
I prayed for courage, and the first headline I saw scared me to death. Courage whispered in my ear: Are you looking for me?
I prayed for more, but rose from my prayer still with less than I wanted. Abundance laughed: I’ve been here all along. Just because you want it doesn’t mean you need it.
I prayed for the presence of God in my life, a realization that Christ walks with me, the assurance that the Holy Spirit is nearby. The response to my prayer was: “Here” “Here” “Here” Three voices in the unison of Love spoke: “Here all the time. Don’t wish for…give thanks for. In you, not out there. Live it like you believed it. Now, get on with it.”
I prayed for wisdom today, the collaboration of my mind and my heart in the unfolding of this day. It took a few prayerful moments, but then I heard: Be careful what you ask for. Wisdom and responsibility are best friends. It’s a package deal.
When I was about to hangup with an “Amen”, I remembered these Jesus words: “The person who trusts me will not only do what I am doing, but even greater things…I am giving you the same work to do that I’ve been doing. You can count on it.” I know the work is there; all I need is the will. Come full circle, haven’t we. Amen to that.

I refuse to live with a “Friday the 13th” mind. There is no such thing as a “bad luck day.” This day is what we make of it. With that gentle “Good Morning!” I offer these thoughts for your own meditation and prayer:

*Because I think I’m right and you are wrong, doesn’t mean I am and you are. It means we have different opinions and we need to talk like humans instead of acting like jackasses.
*Our children are watching. Is this really the Civics 101 we want to teach them? Is this the best we can do?
*Whatever happened to “one Nation, under God, indivisible…” Believe what you want, find the common values, talk it out. Indivisible, it says.
*Governments are elected, not divinely ordained. The buck stops at “we, the people…”
*Preemptive politics…like missiles…is a prescription for mayhem.
*God made it. We rent it for a time. Tenants are supposed to take care of the property, not tear it up. The Earth…the only one we’ve got.
*Just because we can, doesn’t make it right. There is a deeper question than merely asking: “Will this work?” or “What’s in it for me?”
*Those who “win” by unethical principles are victims, too. It just takes a little longer to realize it.
*Maybe I’ll never see it on a grand scale, in my lifetime, but I know it is true. Love wins.
*Spirits shine brightest when the tears of forgiveness and redemption wash away the stains of retribution.
*Recognize this? “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” As the cartoon character, Pogo, once wisely said: ‘We have met the enemy and he is us.’

Perhaps you will find something here to think about. That’s good. Perhaps you will find something here to motivate you into creative action. That’s better. Maybe your heart will break, releasing all the anguish and fear you carry around. Best of all. I know someone who can help you put the pieces back together again, and I make this prayer in His name. Amen.

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.