Shining Spirit

The Grandfather Tree, eighteen-hundred years old, knows what it means to be serene in the midst of the storm. Winds from all directions…fame or obscurity, wealth or poverty, success or failure, happiness or sadness…and still the massive tree is unmoved. One reason for its stability in the midst of storm is flexibility. It literally flexes, sways, bends in the assault of high winds, but bending and breaking are two different things. Grandfather is anchored but not rigid. And each part of the huge tree benefits the whole. Canopy, trunk, roots. Each is necessary for the survival of the whole. Grandfather’s “treeness” is defined by the parts working together. Sound familiar? We can debate the question of which part of Grandfather’s structure is most important for survival and growth, but high on the priority list has to be roots. Grounded (quite literally), anchored.

Some of us wonder why we get buffeted and knocked over with every passing storm. Shallow roots. No anchor. Little depth. And don’t overlook the exact opposite. Wealth, fame, applause, success. They can be as vicious as the “bad” things that happen to us.

Storms are inevitable. Rigid things break. Rootless things can’t withstand. Exclusivity is a very narrow street with a sign that reads: No Way Out. A very long time ago, at the end of his teaching or story telling, Jesus would say “let those who have ears, hear.” A contemporary translation: So, what do you think about that?

The last cardboard box is open and almost out the door. The Amazon delivery man said he hopes to never see me again. Forwarded mail is unforwarded, which means it’s out there in the ether somewhere. Sue and I have sore backs from bending and lifting. And we like our new apartment home very much. (A plug for Album Marana, the 55+ community). I’m happy to say that through the move into storage for three months, out of storage and delivery to Album Marana and unpacking, we have found no breakage or damage. Remarkable! I certainly credit the professional packer who wrapped everything so carefully. Her name is Sue and she has moved the Pierce family 28 times in 62+ years of marriage. Truly remarkable!

As I was setting up my little office, I came across the items pictured above. They came together quite by chance on the top shelf of a bookcase, and this morning, at 4:00 a.m. it occurred to me that together they bring a word of thanksgiving. The candle, the chalice, and the woman lifting her hands in prayer. Yes, I know the candle is not burning, but it’s sitting right under a smoke detector and it is 4:00 a.m. A fire alarm is not the way be introduced to the community. So, receive the blessing of the candle and let your light shine throughout this gifted day, the blessing of the cup and all that it means in this Lenten season, and the blessing received from hands raised to the heavens in petition and praise. The peace of Christ is yours. Press on.

Wake me in the morning
by the gentle touch of love
in hands that lift tenderly
and embrace.   I know no 
words to speak, but I will
smile, and she will smile,
and the day will begin.

Wake me in the morning
for I have places to go and
things to do.  Wake me 
with a good morning kiss
and a cup of hot coffee.
Responsibility awaits as
the day begins.

Wake me in the morning
with a sweet kiss and then
I will drift back into sleep.
The rush of life is behind
me and in these quieter 
days I step more slowly
but I love more deeply.

Wake me in the morning.
Soothe my fears, not so much
for myself as for those I love.
Wake me from life into life,
Lord.  Hold my hand for I
have never beheld glory as
I see it now in the light of
your face.

Wake me in the morning,
and the morning,
and the morning.

Amen

My friend told me:
"Yesterday is gone.  History.
Can't change things now.
Let it go."

In one way, she's right.
But, Lord, I have some unfinished business.
There are some footnotes I need to revisit.
Before I close the book on yesterday,
I need to...

Apologize to her for what I said casually
but carelessly.  I need to think before I speak.

Talk to him about his son and the pain the family
is experiencing.  I was too busy yesterday when
he asked.  "On the run; I'll call you."  But I didn't.
I forgot.  I need to be more thoughtful
about how I spend my time.

Call her and just talk.  She's lonely and she
reaches out to me once in a while.  What's more
important, cleaning the oven or listening
to a friend?

God, I know I'm not clever enough to
go back and do yesterday all over again,
but I can tidy it up a bit.
For the things I didn't do but should have,
and the things I did and shouldn't,
my heart feels regret and
my spirit reminds me
to be more thoughtful today.
I know that even having these thoughts
about repairing yesterday is the prompting
of your kind Spirit.  I will hold today in grateful hands
and treat it with dignity and compassion.
May it be so.  Amen.

I am who I decide to be,
not what you imagine or think of me.
I have a sacred choice, you see
to live my life that others may be
drawn to the Truth that sets people free.
God give me courage that I might be
the genuine, authentic, honest me
who lives in the light of eternity.

Who are you on this fine day?
Are you simply what other people say?
Please don't let them take away
the you that loves to dance and play.
The cost is far too much to pay
to be what other people say.

My identity was never meant to be
a mere opinion, what you think of me,
and knowing that is really the key
for I am who I choose to be
in the light of the man from Galilee.

I lived, I live, and I shall live
in order that I might freely give
a word, a thought, a caring hand
to help my neighbor rise and stand
in confident hope and simple trust,
something that every person must
acknowledge and attempt to be
in order to claim an authentic me.

Yes, we are who we decide to be;
life is ours, but it's not free.
To live is neither pomp nor show,
but living in ways that others may know
the joy that life was destined to be,
the fulness of Christ in a person like me.

Thanks be to God for this glorious day,
for the chances that will happen along the way
to lend a hand, to let people see
the purpose of God lived out in me.

If you Google search “crow intelligence,” here’s what you get. “Crows are some of the smartest creatures in the animal kingdom. They are capable of making rule-guided decisions and of creating and using tools. They also appear to show an innate sense of what numbers are.” Amazing birds! And, they can square dance. I’m not sure if that skill is inherent or if they have to take dancing lessons. You ever taken dance lessons? In late elementary school, maybe fifth grade, it was determined that I needed to know how to dance. I wasn’t part of that conversation. I had no input. If I had gotten wind of it, I would have run away…hopped a freight or joined the circus. But, the arrangement was made and I was told to show up at Mrs. Whitson’s house on a particular day, at a particular time. I did, along with four or five other mortified boys and a like number of shy, but cute, girls. We didn’t learn square dancing, just ballroom stuff, which meant that I had to touch a girl. In time, I got over my reluctance. When I took the picture of the dancing crows, I thought to myself: they’re squawking and jumping and having a grand old time. I would have joined them, but they flew away at my approach. In my human experience, joy and love and peace all make me so happy that I could just dance! Today. Right now. I hope you Do-si-Do through this day, giving thanks for your blessings. Wanna dance?

There is a place I know
where dreams are dreamed
and hopes are hoped,
where forgiveness is served 
fresh daily and patience
is usually plentiful.
Home.

This place is not bound by location,
not defined by boundaries or borders.
It is a launching pad and a secret
refuge, a place where memories
are made and failures forgotten.
Home.

No matter where I roam, I
carry it with me, the hallways,
the fragrances, the sound of the
screen door banging shut,
colors, textures, that squeaking
floor in the bathroom.
Home.

There is a dining room in my mind,
a black wooden table set for eight,
covered by a white lace cloth, the
smells of fried chicken, seasoned
green beans, mounds of mashed
potatoes.  Laughter.  "Here, have
some more.  There's plenty."
A chair for me.
Home.

So nice of my friends to put out the welcome home sign. It’s not that Sue and I have forgotten, but the reminder is appreciated. Home! What a glorious word. To make the welcome home complete was the sound of coyotes chattering just before dawn yesterday. They were a bit out of tune, but, again, the effort was very nice. Thinking of home in the final days in Manzanita and even during the drive home, I was drawn back to the opening words of Psalm 90. Remember? “From generation to generation, God, you have been our home…” Home…not just dwelling place. Home is much greater than a place to sleep at night or a drop-in between work and pleasure. Home is where I find meaning in relationship. It’s the give-and-take of family life, hardships faced, successes celebrated, dreams born, values gained and developed. Dwelling place is lodging; home is heart. And for the spiritually minded, for Christ followers, home is much, much bigger than location. Wherever you are, at any time of night or day, you and I are at home in Christ Jesus, at home in God’s great heart. I appreciate the welcome home sign, and I will listen carefully for the sound of hiss or rattle, but I will listen with great joy for the greetings of friends…here at home.

This is the end of a beautiful day.
Sunlight grows dim and it's time to say
the evening prayer of humble praise,
a thankful word for all the ways
the Spirit of God shows mercy and grace,
calls us by name and gives us a place
at the Kingdom banquet with Christ as our host.
A time for us to brag or boast?
No, I've done nothing to earn my way,
all is gift as I hear God say:
"Come rest at the end of a beautiful day."

Morning arrives with flare and style.
Shafts of light probe for a while,
but then, in the blink of a sleepy eye,
light explodes across the sky.
Birds begin their joyful songs,
deer and antelope sing along.
All the creatures of God's good hand
rejoice in the light filling the land.
The wonder extends for endless miles
as morning arrives with flare and style.

But along with the joy, there is also pain.
Sometimes it seems that suffering reigns,
controls the minds and hearts of those
who give in to worry, their hearts simply close.
With clouded eyes that are not able to see
the path ahead, the reasons to be
thankful amidst the sorrow and pain,
the presence of Christ to heal and sustain
anyone who, in faith and trust,
knows the difference between should and must,
who stands his ground, extends her hand
to care for God's people throughout the land.

Yes, sometimes it seems like a futile fight,
but never give in, press on to The Light.
Evil and falsehood may have their way,
but there comes, in good time, a marvelous day
when light will chase all the darkness away
and the voice of God will be heard to say:
Fear not, my child, you are on the way
into the joy of this brand new day.

In the recent move from Manzanita, OR to Oro Valley, AZ, if I had lost my shoes or my watch or my favorite shirt, life would go on. Not a catastrophe. But, if I lost the little booklet called Password Journal, now that’s a different story. This would be a major event in my life. The journal holds all the top-secret codes and passwords that are meant to provide me with safety and security. Ha! There really was a day, grandchild, when we didn’t have passwords and layers of security to protect us from each other. But that changed when someone found a way to cheat his neighbor, or embezzle from the company. Passwords are necessary inconveniences in an increasingly insecure world.  Even in the days immediately following the resurrection of The Christ, followers were considered dangerous by Roman authorities and were sought out for punishment. Two examples of early Christian “passwords”. If you and I met, in those days, and you wondered if I might be a Jesus Follower, you would take a stick and draw one-half of the Fish symbol on the ground. If I drew the other half, then you would know that I was a brother.  Or, let’s say that you and I met on the street and somewhere in our conversation I would say: ”Jesus is risen” and I would wait for your response. If you replied “He is risen, indeed” I would know I could trust you as a disciple of The Way. I’m very glad we do not live in a society that forces the use of passwords among Christians. But not all cultures are like ours and many, many Christ-followers must worship and live very cautiously. It has been said that the Church was at its strongest when it was under pressure, when it cost something to be a Christian. That was a theme that ran through the teachings of Jesus. But what does it cost us today to follow his way? What sacrifices do I make day by day? The spiritual fervor that Jesus caused and we inherited does not lead to a country club setting but to “password” places where people suffer from injustice and inhumanity. Our calling is to go there with Christ and care for the needs of our neighbor. Anyone who needs is a brother or sister. Even if they don’t know the password.