A New Year

On this day before the eve of the new year I find myself reflecting on letting go of the old to make room for the new. I’m in the process of doing that with my house....changing the living and dining rooms into an art studio....getting rid of unneeded furniture and clutter to make room for new shelving, tables and easels.  Another new beginning and I’m excited about it!

I was thinking last night about how hard it is to let go of things we’ve come to feel are important but really are not. I actually held out my hand and said, “Take this, God.  Please take this from me.”  I wondered about my using the word “take”. Why couldn't I just give it freely?   How hard it is to let go of some things!  I think a lot of it....for me, at least....is the fear of the unknown.  Letting go completely sometimes feels like closing my eyes and jumping off a cliff.  The thing is, when I do that, I discover how wonderful it is to fly.  I love the flying but am afraid of the jumping.

As these thoughts were going through my mind I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few years ago: 

Making Room *

I’ve a box within my heart
full of things I’ve kept.
Some have caused me sorrow,
over most, I’ve wept.

I’ve kept it safe and hidden,
away from prying eyes.
Its lid, I would not open.
Its contents, I’d disguise.

The Lord came by one fateful day
and offered me a gift.
“Put it in your box”, He said,
“It’s something you have missed.”

“I can’t” I cried, “there isn’t room
for one more thing, I fear.”
In frustration, I did weep
one great and lonely tear.

He gently wiped it from my cheek
and held me in His arms.
“I’ll help you clean it out” he said.
“You’ll come to no more harm.”

“Do you need those things?” He gently asked
“You’ve hoarded through the years?
Or are they just the weapons
you used to battle fears?”

In faith, I went to get my box
and dumped it at His feet.
“Look at all you’ve saved,” He said
“You have no need of these.”

Very gently, He lifted one
It was sorrow and despair.
“You don’t need these,” He said
“Get them out of there!”

“All these things you have”, He sighed,
“the guilt, the pride, the greed.
Throw them out - get rid of them.
They aren’t the things you need.”

As we cleaned and threw things out,
the fears within me grew.
What would I do without my things?
Could I manage to get through?

“Have faith” He said to me,
“for you, I know what’s best.
Trust is me and me alone.
Get rid of all the rest.”

And so I tried to dump it all,
( but I held back a few)
things I could not part with.
He smiled at me.  He knew.

My box is nearly empty
(except for those few things)
I hope that I am ready
for all the gifts He brings.

If there’s not room for all He gives,
I pray I have the will
to throw those few things out
I carry with me still.

My prayer for all is that we may be able to “let go” of all that weighs us down and keeps us from being truly happy.  May this new year be a wonderful new beginning for each of us as we continue to walk with God in the Light.  God Bless!

* The Journey

(continued) One Little Candle

One Little Candle

I am one little candle,
   one small light.
How can I hope
   to pierce the night?

What can I do
   with one small light;
to ease the pain,
   relieve the plight,

of those who
   lost sight
of their own
   small light?

We’re each a candle,
    flame burning bright.
Together, our prayers
   will banish the night,

Rekindle the hope,
   Restore the Light.

                          12/24/2016

Lighting the Candle

This is the day before Christmas.... the day we spend rushing around with last minute preparations for the “Big Day”.  This is the day we look forward to the coming of eve when our hearts and minds are centered on Jesus’ birth. 

Tonight there will be the lighting of candles as we Christians join together in celebrating the coming of “the Light of the world”.  This evening, too, our Jewish brothers and sisters light the first candle of the Festival of Lights....Chanukah.  I find it powerfully symbolic that this year when the world is so much in need of light, we join together in prayer ...prayer illuminated by the flame of a candle.  That flame is shared by millions of people lighting candles in every corner of the world. 

This Christmas eve, this Chanukah, unites us all.  Tonight we rekindle the flame of hope as we join in prayer with those persecuted, the poor, the immigrant, the lonely, the lost, the homeless.  We join with those who fight for our freedoms and to protect our earth.

So tonight when I light my little candle, its tiny flame will carry my prayer and unite it with the prayers of every other lighted candle.  Through that flame I join with you and all my brothers and sisters throughout the world, regardless of nationality or religion.  Tonight our human family becomes one....as it should always be.

Merry Christmas to you all!  May the light of hope, joy and peace always burn within!  God bless!

One with Mom

Mom and I didn’t talk about God very much but we didn’t seem to need to.  We both had an inner sense of the other’s relationship with God....one which went beyond and had no need for the expression of words.  In fact, I believe Mom and I often communicated more deeply in the shared silence than in conversation.  While she was in Hospice, in a comatose state, we continued to share that non-verbal, spiritual connection.

I sat by you and held your limp, non-responsive hand in mine.  I don’t know if you were aware of my touch but I needed yours.  As I caressed your hand, trying to communicate the love in my heart, my attention was drawn to the tree outside the window.  There I saw an uppermost branch gently moving in the breeze as if it was waving at me.

Tears came to my eyes and a lump formed in my throat as I realized your spirit wasn’t trapped in this unresponsive body I was holding onto so tightly, but was free.  I couldn’t help but smile, as true to form, you mischievously joined with the breeze and moved only the one branch.

“See,” you said to me, “I am one with the wind, with the sun, with the trees.  I am alive within all of Creation.

I am the river,
     the lake and the sea.
In the warmth of the sun,
     the cooling breeze.

With the birds,
     you hear me sing.
I bloom with the flowers
     in the Spring.

Be still and listen.
     I am there.
In the love that fills your soul
     I am there
        with God.”

Living Water

“...But whoever drinks the water that I will give him will never become thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become a well of water for him, springing up to eternal life."  (John 4:14 )

 “...Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, 'Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.'" (John 7:38)

“Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here...” says the Samaritan woman

So what is this water?  It’s a question I’ve asked myself numerous times and heard it spoken of in many sermons, but I never really came to know what Jesus was referring to until recently.  I’ve discovered that no matter how sad I am, or how I am suffering, there is always joy within me.  Oh, I sometimes cover it up as I fall into the pit of sadness or self-pity but I know it’s always there and it has a way of always finding its way to the surface.

I was describing it to someone the other day and he tried to tell me that joy is fleeting. “You can’t be joyful all the time.”

 I had to disagree.  “It’s not the joy that’s fleeting.” I tried to explain.  “To be joyful  isn’t the same thing as being happy, though happiness is a byproduct of joy.   It’s the happiness which doesn’t last.  But the spring of joy within ourselves is always there, bubbling up from the bedrock of love... which is God.  There are times too,” I told him, “when the joy bubbles up with such force it has to be expressed in an outpouring of love and praise.  It can't be contained.” 

I don’t know if he ‘heard’ me but that conversation is the reason for my writing this blog and it’s something I’ve mentioned before in my blog, “Joy and Sadness”.  I’ve entertained the idea of painting how I see the living water of joy within myself and thought instead, I’d share it with you here in a “painting of words". 

As I see the image of an ever flowing, bubbling spring within me, I think of Moses striking the rock and water  gushing out so the people may drink.  (Exodus 17:6)  The joy bubbles up from the rock of God’s love as a fountain.  Sometimes the bubbling water can only rise a short distance as I haven't opened the rock enough to let it through. (I’m not loving enough).  Other times, when I am filled with the love of God, the bedrock within opens wider and  the water of joy bubbles up with such force it’s beyond containing.  It must be released and shared. 

When we are firm in the knowledge of  God’s presence within ourselves and God’s everlasting, unconditional love for us, we will recognize and experience the living water of joy and never be “thirsty” again! 

All we have to do is tap the rock of God’s love and it will come gushing forth. 

May we always know joy!

A Response

I wrote this in response to an email from a friend and thought I’d share it with you here.

The thing about Americans is, we always rise for a common cause. The problem is, we don't know yet what that common cause is. There is so much hatred and anger buried beneath the surface of many Americans that things like reason and love are strange and unfamiliar.  We are afraid.

I pray, that if he does nothing else, Trump be the catalyst to bring people back together. This is a necessary time of growth. America has to realize we are no longer a leader in the world, nor can we set ourselves up as examples of "Liberty and Justice for All". Maybe we have to burn so we, like the Phoenix, will rise from the ashes.

There has always been, and will always be, a war between good and evil. This is the time for those who profess a love of God and neighbor to put words into actions. We are an "army". We just haven't come together yet because we put more emphasis on our differences than what we share in common.

There are more than enough who point out everything that is wrong..... which only brings us down into the swamp of negativity. It's time to shine the light on what is right. It's the nature of all to want to come out of the darkness into the light. We need the light. Let us rise up and shine for others!

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine."  Imagine how bright that light will be with all of us shining together!

Aross the Abyss

All the hatred, negativity, racism, greed, lies and false promises are like quicksand. The hatred and anger are contagious.  The demons’ snake-like arms reach up to us from the pit and threaten to pull us in.  With evil grins on their dark faces, they beckon us.  The temptation is strong because of their numbers and their promises of safety among them.

“Safety from what?” I ask myself.  “The only ‘safety’ I have is in standing here on the edge with these few, praying for the strength to resist.”

Then I hear voices in the distance....a great many voices.... coming nearer and nearer.  Others are coming.  Looking across the abyss, I see more coming from afar... from other lands... to this place where we must come together.

They are multitude, carrying rocks, stones and strong, thick logs.  My heart responds with joy.  We are the bridge builders.  Together we will build a bridge strong enough to withstand any force; high enough to be beyond the reach of those in the abyss; wide enough so there is room for all to cross and become united.

“Yes!  We are building a bridge”, I sing happily to myself as we work side by side and together, place another rock.

Dry Tinder

  Dry Tinder
 
  Hot winds
     blow.
  Rain doesn’t
      come.
 
  The tinder
     is dry
  waiting,
     aching
       to be lit
  with the fire
     of God.
 
  Out of control,
     wildfires
   destroy,
     threaten
  the dry
     waiting
       tinder.
 
  Are the small
     backfires
       of God
     enough
  to stop
   the onslaught?
 
  The threat
     is real.
  The tinder
    is dry.
 
  Which
     of the fires
  will set it
   to  burning?
                   (2016)

I wrote this a few days ago and wasn’t too sure why or what inspired it.  My thoughts at the time were of those who are seeking....wanting so much to find and know God in their lives.  They are the ones who are caught up in fear and don’t know which way to turn.  They fear the onslaught of violence, afraid it will suck them in...desperate for the knowing of truth and love of God.  There is the constant struggle of good vs evil and even good people find themselves doing evil things....afraid to stand against it.
 
There are so many posts on facebook stating how much our country needs God....as if God has deserted us.  I wonder if the people who post these things realize that if we, as individuals,  don’t actively know and share God, neither will our country.

We are the tinder.  It is dry, it is fragile and it takes no more than a spark to set it aflame.  It’s our choice whether we burn with the fires of the love of God or allow ourselves to be fuel for the violence, ignorance and greed which seems to be sweeping over us.

We are ready to burn.  Which will set us afire?

Joy and Sadness

In a recent conversation with a friend I observed, “It’s possible to experience joy and sadness at the same time.”  She laughed in agreement.  She knew exactly what I meant.

Since having that conversation, I find myself reflecting on the fact....especially because of my emotions concerning Mom.  So.... I take the trip inward to see and understand my own co-mingling of joy and sadness.

It’s within myself I see the source of each.  The joy, which has become pretty constant, is not of me.  Its source is the God within myself and comes through me.  The sadness, I have to admit, is totally mine.  It is me feeling the void left by the loss of a loved one’s physical presence.

I can see how God’s gift of joy mixes with the sadness of self.  They rise to the surface together, expressing themselves in tears of both joy and sorrow.  Sometimes one is felt more strongly than the other and that’s okay.

I know both.

JOY

Dancing With the Angels

Just recently I was reminded of something I saw a few years ago on the screen of my mind.  It was during a time of prayer I saw the angels dancing and though I thought it might be a subject for a painting, eventually realized it wasn’t.  Every once in a while there were re-runs that made me smile but I saw no reason for them other than the reminding of a beautiful memory.

Recently, with these days of  Mom’s non-responsiveness to the outside world, the vision of the dancing angels returned.  As I watched Mom’s facial expressions and listened to my own internal knowing, I knew she was in the Light and dancing with the angels. 

It’s funny how some things come together.  One friend assured me she was sending the angels to Mom in her prayer.  Another friend shared her seeing Mom dancing in the Light during her meditation.  This morning I awoke with the knowledge she was no longer here but was as a child having the time of her life singing and dancing with the angels.

She deserves this time of joy and celebration after all she’s been through and I am happy for her!  I find peace in knowing that when she is able to be released completely from her body, the angels will take her home......skipping, dancing and singing all the way!

Walls to Bridges

I have it in my mind that I’m a bridge builder.  Oh, I’m not an engineer by any means, nor do I actually build physical, tangible bridges.  Nonetheless, I do find myself building them....bridges leading to acceptance, understanding, appreciation and eventually to love.

Quite a while ago I started a fairly large  painting I was going to title, “From Walls to Bridges”.  It was to be a painting of people of all colors, nationalities, etc, each taking the stones from the walls on their side and using them to build a bridge spanning the chasm between them.... allowing each to freely walk across to the other side.  I wanted to include new communities being formed; to show the re-unification of  God’s family. 

I wanted to show all those things I saw in my heart but either couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, express them in paint.  The painting stayed stapled to the wall for quite a while.  I even transferred it to a different wall so I could begin another painting.  I looked at it every time I entered my studio.  My students looked and wondered, some aloud, when I would finish it. 

I felt sad the day I removed it from the wall, rolled it up and put it away.  From my students, when they noticed its absence, was excitement in the form of, “Oh, did you finish it?  Let us see!  Where is it?  I want to see what you did.”  These quickly turned to “Oh.”   “Well, you’ll get back to it when it’s time.” and  “It just wasn’t ready to be painted yet.”  (I love those women!)

Not finishing the painting didn’t affect my being a bridge builder.  On the contrary, it made me realize my bridge building is meant to be more active than expressing it in paint.  I am constantly being given opportunities to build.....some small and even some larger bridges.  Sometimes I have to work hard at the building while other times I may only have to suggest and encourage while others proceed with the building.

There’s always plenty of material available and in a way, I find it kind of humorous.  We simply recycle the stones others have used to build thicker and higher walls.  Of course, those who are intent on building walls try to use the stones of the bridges so the work is on-going.  It never stops. 

Some walls are too high and too slippery to climb so there will always be bridges to build.  Bridges are the only way God’s family will become united.

                                                                     Unfinished

God Bless!
Connie

Labels

It’s interesting to me how we humans always try to label things.  It’s as if we have to classify everything and once they’re classified and labeled we feel more comfortable.  We can determine where the box we’re in fits amongst all the other labeled boxes.

We are a “tribal people” .  We are members of families, clans, classes, groups, organizations, churches, religions and we have a tendency to label ourselves accordingly.  I have met more than a few who have put themselves...and continue to live... in a box and stuck a label on it as if it describes who they are completely.

 Unfortunately, the world tries to force labels upon us.... “Are you Democrat or Republican?; Jewish, Christian; Buddhist, Hindu, or Muslim?;  Catholic or Protestant?; heterosexual or homosexual?; married, divorced or single?; black, hispanic or white?; rich, middle class or poor?; conservative or liberal?; and within each label there are sub-labels and classifications.

In my studying, my associations with people from “other tribes”, my learning,  my seeking and my growing, I find I consciously try to avoid having any particular label or classification applied to myself as if it were the only one applicable.  With an inward smile (most of you know I’m a natural rebel), I admit I enjoy how some try to apply a specific label to me and seeing their surprise and confusion when it doesn’t stick....at least not for long....or is immediately joined by another.  I absolutely refuse to be put in a specific box and labeled.

The only label I accept with love, pride and confidence is the one which states, “I am a child of God”.  Now, that one I would paste to my forehead!

A 'Rising Up'

While the world is in the midst of violent, murderous uprisings, there is a quiet, but steady, ‘rising up’.  While people strike out hatefully against one another, driven by fear, desire for power, greed, mistrust and misunderstanding, there is a peaceful ‘rising up’ happening in every part of the world.

While Satan revels in the evil so prevalent, God quietly calls and lifts up those people who, like Isaiah of old,  respond with, “Here I am, Lord.  Send me.” (Isaiah 6:8) These people carry the flame of God’s light into the darkest corners of the world, sharing love and hope.

There is a ‘rising up’ of a people with a spiritual appetite,  people with  an innate sense of justice, people who, like Isaiah, are not afraid to step forward and speak God’s truth.

I am in awe as I watch and become more and more aware of these people as we find and unite with one another.  “We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord.”.  I am in awe as we come together across mountains, rivers, oceans, continents; of how language, customs, religions form no barriers.  God calls us all and we all respond with “Here I am, Lord.  Send me.”

We have no weapons but the ones God gives us.   We carry nothing but God’s light of love and truth.  It is more than enough to dispel the darkness evil needs to thrive.

Our numbers are growing in every country in the world as well as in our own families and communities.  We are ‘rising up’, making ourselves heard, working together toward one end...the reality of God’s kingdom here on earth through  obedience to God’s law of Love.

Here I Am, Lord

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Here+I+AM+Lord+Hymn&&view=detail&mid=E132E2E236B7E9A7722FE132E2E236B7E9A7722F&FORM=VRDGAR

God's Surprises

Our God is a God of surprises!  As soon as I start to feel comfortable with where I am, God leads me around a corner to yet another eye-opening experience.

It’s a lot like walking into an empty room that suddenly fills with light and  people coming from all directions shouting, “Surprise”!  If you’ve ever had that happen to you, you know exactly what I mean.  It’s initially a shock which turns into my being grateful for all the love in that room.  God’s surprises are a lot like that.  They might rock me back on my heels for a bit but I’ve never known one where I didn’t encounter love.

I am the child who is filled with awesome wonder at the new things I encounter and discover.  I am also that child who persistently asks the question, “Why?”  My questions aren’t always answered and I often forget my asking when I am lost in the wonder of discovering and seeing God in all.....in all of creation, in all people, in all religions, in all beliefs in all things. In God’s showing me all these little bits and pieces of God’s self, I clap my hands and jump for joy.

Sometimes I wonder if my heart could possibly expand enough to hold all of the God I discover.  My heart must be a very good elastic to be able to stretch and include so much.  Whenever there’s something more, there’s always room.  God keeps showing me how big God is....how some try so hard to keep God in a box of their limited understanding and how God is so much bigger than that.  God broadens my vision so I am  free to love God in all.

Not only am I free to love all, but I am free to learn from all.  No one denomination or religion can possibly be the only way to God.  God is much, much bigger than that. So I stay open to the wonder....open to the discovery of truth.....open to love.....open to all the surprises God has in store for me.

I’m getting so I really love God’s surprises and look with excited expectation for the next one.

Digging My Ditch

Growing in the knowledge of God is sometimes very labor intensive.  This morning I compared it to my digging a ditch.  It takes work.
 
Sometimes the dirt is easy to remove.  It doesn’t weigh too much and doesn’t fall off the shovel as it’s being transferred.  Sometimes there is sand which slides off the shovel, insisting on returning to whence it came, requiring me to double my efforts.  Sometimes there are rocks which require me to dig around and pry them up with my shovel.  Some are larger than others and some I need help in the lifting and removing.

Some days I look back at the ditch I’ve dug and am proud of all I’ve done.  That pride is short-lived for in the morning, I find dirt and sand have returned to my beautifully dug ditch. The rain so sorely needed had washed the dirt so it sits again at the bottom, needing to be removed....a task much more difficult due to its new wet heaviness.  So I go back and clean out my ditch, fighting the discouragement which makes it even more difficult.

There are brighter times, I remind myself.  I smile when remembering the gopher who did half the digging with putting his tunnel along the direction of my ditch.  There are the times when someone helps me remove the huge rocks I cannot move by myself.  The hole they leave behind requires no digging.  There is the brightness of the day with the sun warm on my shoulders....the coolness of the breeze taking the sweat from my brow and filling my nostrils with the sweet scent of flowers.  There are those times I love digging my ditch!

There are times, too, when I want to throw down my shovel and walk away...telling myself I don’t need this ditch.  But then I realize I do.  I need to continue digging, no matter how labor intensive it might be.  This ditch is needed and I have been given the task of digging it...so I renew my resolve and continue to labor, knowing the reward is great.

Through the Window

The other day I shared in meditation with a friend.  It began but did not stop in that time, but has become ongoing...as meditations sometimes do...because God often has more to say and goes beyond the time I allot.  I’d like to share that meditation with you here...I don’t know why but then again, I am often led to do things without knowing the ‘why’.

To begin, I was led through the meditation to a window.  For me, it was a large picture window consisting of large panes of framed glass.  Through it, I saw a golden path saturated with light.  Rolling golden clouds and mist rose up, making the path itself barely distinguishable.  The light, the colors and the clouds were beautiful and inviting.  However, I had no desire at the time to go beyond the protection of the window. I interpreted what I’d seen as being the path to heaven and presumed the reason I did not go “outside” was because it wasn’t my time....though I did wonder at God's showing it to me.

What I saw through the window came into my mind again this morning.  This time, I saw more meaning than I had seen before.  It wasn’t just the path to heaven God was showing me....it wasn’t where it led that was important.  What was important was that I was walking it with Jesus.

I am now outside the window and on the path.  The golden clouds and the mist make it impossible for me to see where I’m going.  I can’t even see my feet.  So I hold tighter to Jesus’ hand as I become the child I am.  I’m not afraid.  In fact I kind of like the feel of these clouds against my skin. I laugh at how the mist tickles me as I dance along and how I can barely see my foot when I kick it into the air.

There is such beauty here on this path.  The light is so bright the clouds shine as each bit of their moisture reflects it in golden transparency.  Its beauty fills me until I feel I, too, shine with this light.
  
The clouds leave a wetness on my face and even as I touch it gently with my fingers, I realize it is more than moisture they leave behind.  It is tears.  It is the tears of all of those in pain.  Here in this place, Jesus shares with me the tears brought to Him in prayer. A lump comes into my throat and I look to him questioningly with tears in my own eyes.  No words are exchanged, Jesus simply smiles understandingly and nods his head.

I have no doubt there will be more and I will come to know in God’s own time and when I am ready.

God's Gift

I am only given a small understanding of God’s love, and though that understanding is minimal, I am filled with it to overflowing.  I have the desire to describe the indescribable, knowing that any words or metaphors I might use could never communicate the awesome wonder of God’s love.

Love travels through time and space connecting me to those I love as if they were sitting here next to me.  Then love brings them ever closer.  They share my heart and are part of my soul.  Life, death, time and distance mean nothing.  Love has no obstacles, no boundaries.  It goes where I send it  and brings itself back to me.

There are other gifts hidden in the giving and receiving of God’s love.  It’s a package full of surprises.  As I unwrap it, I find such awesome wonder, tears come to my eyes.  I sigh with happiness as I uncover the peace and the joy.  Then, as I dig deeper into the gift, I discover it gives me a strength beyond anything I’ve ever known.  I am struck with the knowledge there is nothing stronger, nothing more powerful.  With this gift, I can dispose of my fears, knowing love can never be conquered.

I realize, as I look at all God’s gift entails, that it is not just meant for me.  Yes, these wonderful gifts are mine but I am led to understand that I must share.  In my sharing with others, the gift within me will continue to grow.

What a marvelous gift God’s love is!  I could never ask for something more wonderful, more perfect than the love of God.

A Look Inside

It’s been on my mind that there might be another book on my horizon...or maybe a painting....or maybe God is simply asking me to share myself.  I don’t know...not yet anyway...but in looking inside, I see myself responding with “yes” a lot more frequently.  I don’t have to overthink things because the truth resides in my heart.  I simply have to look inward to find it.  The stuff that comes into my head... if it doesn’t agree with my heart... is not truth.  Knowing that is freedom.

I’ve also come to recognize other things.  I know I love and I know the more people who come into my life, the more there are for me to love.  There is a fullness within which continues to overflow....a fullness which puts a lump in my throat and brings tears to my eyes.  There is a joy which bubbles up all on its own and I find myself happy even when I’m sad.  And there is peace....the peace and comfort of knowing God is with me at all times.

There is a hunger.  It’s not a gnawing hunger as I once experienced, but a constant hunger...one which insists on being fed...at all times, in all situations.  It’s hard to describe, but it’s as if I’ve been invited to sit at table and partake of a never-ending meal.....the meal which fills my soul and gives me all I need and enough to share.  Yet, I remain hungry.  I am the loaves and fishes with which Jesus fed the multitude.

I don’t know what’s around the corner or if there’s another book on my horizon.  I don’t know if I’m being led to another painting.  I’m not even sure if I meant to write this as a blog.  I’m not really sure of  much these days but there is one thing I am very sure of.....one thing I never doubt....God loves me.  I am truly blessed.  I thought I’d share a bit of that here with you.

A Happy Accident

This is not my usual but I thought it might be fun to share it with you.....

Those of us who watch Bob Ross know one of his most famous quotes is, “I love happy accidents!”  While this has more to do with cooking than painting, the “happy accident” still applies.  Things sometimes pop into my mind and I think it’s a great idea....at the time... and then I have a chance to think about it.  Please bear with me as I review the steps that brought me to my “happy accident”....or to put it more accurately, the accident that turned out to be a happy one.

I often go on the internet to look up recipes....more often to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything than to look up something new.  Well, last night I wanted to make shrimp scampi and happened to run across a recipe that called for the shrimp to be marinated in Italian dressing and then broiled.  I didn’t follow that recipe but I thought it was a good idea and the Italian dressing stayed on my mind.
Today I’d planned to make meatballs and sauce.  As I gathered together the ingredients, I impulsively grabbed the Italian dressing.  “Why not?” I thought.  “What could it hurt?” and not too generously (but generously enough) added it to my meatballs. 

The sauce was bubbling along nicely and I decided to take a little break before cooking the meatballs.  It was then it hit me!  There’s vinegar in Italian dressing.  Vinegar would make the sauce sour.  Then what would I do?  As far as I could figure out, the best solution would be to add brown sugar to counteract the vinegar so that’s exactly what I did.  I don’t know how much I used.  I never measure.  But I made sure it would be enough.  It was probably more than enough as it caused another problem.

The mixture was too wet to hold its shape.  I added more bread crumbs hoping that would stiffen them up a bit but was leery about adding too much.  I didn’t want the meatballs to be 50% bread crumbs.  I tried them in the fry pan, hoping searing them would hold them together.  It didn’t.  As a last resort, I threw everything back in the bowl, re-mixed, re-shaped and baked them 30 minutes in a 400 degree oven. 

They looked perfect when I took them out and put them gingerly in the sauce to continue cooking on simmer.  A higher heat would have broken them apart.  I was very conscious of their fragility.  I can’t remember ever being so careful with a simple meatball.  But these weren’t ordinary meatballs and there was a very great possibility of them ruining the large pot of sauce I’d made.  I didn’t relish the thought of having to throw everything in the garbage.  So I prayed.

Prayer was answered.  For once, Mom didn’t tell me I’d given her too much and I enjoyed it enough for a second large helping....(which I’m sure I didn’t need). But let me tell you!  That Italian dressing and brown sugar made the most delicious meatballs and sauce I’ve ever tasted.  I may do it again sometime.....if I can remember how.  The thing about “happy accidents” is....if I try to repeat it, it won’t be an accident and I have doubts about the “happy” part.

May our lives be full of “Happy Accidents”!!

Not Very Christian

“That’s not very Christian of you” was a comment directed at me a couple of times yesterday.

 I admit I was a little annoyed when pulling into the church parking lot...early as usual...and seeing it already beginning to fill up with the overflow from across the road.  According to that church’s billboard, they were hosting the High School graduation ceremonies.  I’d never been inside but judging from what I could see, its size was probably large enough to hold most of the people of Brooksville and it was surrounded by parking lots.  Unfortunately, there weren’t enough spaces to handle this particular crowd.

My immediate thought, when I saw cars beginning to fill the spaces of St Anthony’s was that there wouldn’t be places for people to park for the 4:00 Mass.  This was a real consideration for me as most who attend the Saturday evening Mass are senior citizens.

As I parked my car and walked toward the entrance of the lot, I called out to one group who were just exiting their car, loaded with balloons and gifts.  There was no doubt where they were headed.  “I’m sorry,” I called, “This is a private lot and we’ll be having services this afternoon.  We’d  appreciate it if you didn’t park here.”

“That’s not very Christian of you,” the woman called out in a sharp accusing tone, purposefully walking faster.  “What about these other cars here?” she added as she waved her arm accusingly.

I swallowed the words I was tempted to say because I knew they would fall on deaf ears.  This woman wanted me to be Christian and wasn’t too concerned about her own “Christian” words and actions.

It wasn’t much fun flagging down cars while standing in the blistering heat.  When I explained the situation, the majority of people were understanding and courteous.  They were very nice about  turning around and finding other parking.  There were the brighter moments, too, like my not recognizing Father Pecchie’s car, having him roll down his window and giving in to the impulse of asking him if he was coming to Mass.  Then there was Theresa who laughingly asked, "Does everyone want to be Catholic today?"

One young lady, when asked if she was there for the Mass or graduation, hesitated for a moment and responded with, “What time is Mass?”
“Four o’clock”, I smiled, realizing she was considering whether the price of a parking spot was worth her attending Mass.
“Oh, the same time as the graduation,” she said, a thoughtful expression on her face.  “I’ll just make a u-turn then.”

There was one other man, however, who couldn’t keep from venting his frustration by accusing me of "not being very Christian”.  I didn’t respond....maybe because by that time most of the energy had been sapped out of me.  I couldn’t help but notice his company logo on the side of his van and wondered if he knew what kind of witness he was giving me.

I can’t tell you how many cars I turned away but I’m sure the number would have filled our lot to overflowing and I can’t help but wonder about the two people who voiced their “That’s not very Christian of you” comment.  I wonder if these people expected everyone else to be Christian without putting that same expectation on themselves.  Being Christian to them meant that they should be made the exception.  They couldn’t see beyond that. 

I met a lot of “Christian” people yesterday afternoon.  They were the ones who understood and respected the situation.  They were the ones who realized they could be infringing on the rights of others.  They were the ones who didn’t think only of themselves.  I appreciated meeting them and having my faith in humanity reaffirmed.

A special thanks here to Sally who stood with me for a while in the heat, ushered me inside when she saw it was getting to be too much and brought me the water I so sorely needed.  Thank you, Sally!

 

Sharing the Silence

After reading and sharing this article last night,
http://www.carlmccolman.net/2015/09/23/nine-ways-to-foster-a-contemplative-church/
I was reminded of the time I attended a Quaker Meeting.

It was at a time in my life when I was seeking and in my seeking, investigated and experienced various forms of worship.....all of which were non Catholic.  I hesitate to admit it, but for some reason I, like most Protestants, thought the Catholic church to be a little strange.  Looking back, it was more of a feeling that all Protestants stood with Martin Luther as he nailed his Ninety-Five Theses to the cathedral door and we never bothered to look beyond it. At any rate, I restricted my seeking to non-Catholic and left few stones unturned.  One of those stones was Quaker Meeting.

The room was very simple with wooden floor and wooden benches arranged in a square with a table of sorts in the center.  On that table was a book from which one of the elders read a passage.  This was followed by complete silence as members meditated on what was read.  It was an education in the sharing of silence and in people sharing aloud as the Spirit moved them.  After each sharing we returned to the silence to listen to our own spirits. 

I found myself drawn to the Quakers but for one thing.....the music.  There was no music in their worship and I needed music.  Music, especially sacred music, has always been part of my life and is an integral part of my prayer and worship.  In looking back...but without going into their specific history....I realized meditation and contemplative prayer have always been the Quaker form of worship....something we, the Catholic laity, (historically speaking) are just beginning to share with one another.

I hunger and I thirst.  The hunger is never satisfied and the thirst never quenched but the desire and the need are always there. 

One of my mantras is, “God is meant to be shared.”  I have a need to share God.  I have a need to join with others in prayer, in meditation, in silence.  Just as I have a need to participate in communal worship on Sundays, I also have a need for communal prayer.  I have a need to come to know the God who dwells within and to share that Spirit with others. As a Priest friend explained it, I have a need for intimacy....intimacy with God within myself and with the God in others.  In that intimacy, I am not restricted to my own particular form of worship, but am called to share with all....and receive from all. 

From the stones once used to build walls, I now build bridges... sharing God with others regardless of religious “labels”.

God bless!
Connie

Pope Francis and the Church

It’s interesting that so many people and organizations are seeking change in the Church....not only the Catholic church but others who are also struggling for change.  In my humble opinion ....which I never hesitate to share.... most, if not all, Christians are looking to Pope Francis as a leader...an example of who and what a Christian should be.

Here’s the simple truth as I see it....  Pope Francis is not about changing the Church.  He is about instigating and instituting change in us, the people.  (We are the Church)  He knows if we grow in love, mercy and knowledge of God, the Church will also grow into what it’s meant to be.  He will not attempt to change Canon Law or established Doctrine, but he will take steps to clarify it so we can come to an acceptance born of understanding.  Hopefully he will tweak some traditions a bit...but that’s another blog.

His message is not limited to Catholics, but is for the world.  He encourages open dialog with all religions, promotes non-judgment and continues to stress the importance of our living the Gospel.  He draws us back to the very basics of Jesus’ teaching.  The change will be within ourselves and we will change the world.

Pope Francis is busy pruning the vine and strengthening the roots so that we, the people....the church, will bear fruit.

May we all grow in Christ together! 
God Bless!
Connie

Catholic with a Small ‘c’

My friend tells me she’s going to get me a t-shirt with a capital ‘C’ crossed out and a very bright lower case ‘c’.  I didn’t think I so often said, “I am a Catholic with a small ‘c’” but I guess I do.  I started doing that after a Methodist friend told me she had a hard time saying, “I believe in the holy catholic church.” when reciting the Apostle’s Creed.  She felt much better about it after I explained that “catholic” with a small ‘c’ means universal.   It doesn’t refer to the Roman Catholic church (though that’s part of it).

I’ve put my own slant on the definition of the small ‘c’ and in my mind it’s come to mean ‘community’.  I could even go so far as to say, “I believe in the holy ‘community’ church,” with the word ‘church’ being optional....only because when most people read or say the word, ‘church’, a physical building comes to mind. 

But I digress.  The whole reason for this blog is not to discuss the fact that all (or most) Christian denominations recite the Apostle’s Creed....though that’s a good point.  Nor is it my intention to expound on my definition of ‘church’....except to say the words ‘church’ and ‘community’ can be interchangeable.  I’m going to try not to wander too far away from my intended subject.

I believe in holy community.  When you read the words, ‘holy community’, you might initially think of those people you join with in formal worship at Mass or Sunday services.  Though you’d be correct in thinking that, it’s not quite where I’m going with this.

My definition of ‘holy community’ is those people with whom I share God.  Jesus said, “where two or three are gathered....there I am also” .  The community, therefore, may be the sharing of two or the sharing among many. 

Sometimes I think of God as a jigsaw puzzle.  As God lives in all of us, regardless of religion, denomination, belief or nationality, each one of us holds within ourselves a “piece” of God.  This, in my thoughts, makes it necessary for us to join and fit all the pieces together until we become the whole.  The whole being God.

This is holy community.  The only thing which truly matters is the recognition and sharing of God.  How wonderful it is when I have that opportunity...when I recognize and reach out to  the “piece of God” within someone else.
 
Someone referred to the prayer group as “warriors’ the other day and in my mind, I saw all joined together as one huge army of God....given the weapons of love and peace with which to change the world... but that’s another blog.
 
We are all catholic with a small ‘c’.....one holy community.  God bless!

Finish a Painting....Or?

“Are you going to the studio today?” Mom asked.

It’s a simple question but one I’m having a hard time answering.  I’d like to go and work on the painting I started....the one I can’t seem to decide on how to proceed.  I thought I knew what I wanted to paint but now I’m not quite sure.  You see, I’ve reached a point in my life when I only want to paint the things I feel God wishes me to say.  So, until God makes it clear.....

Am I going to the studio today?  Or will this be a time when painting gives way to writing.... or simply a much-needed day of quiet spent in communion with God?

Yesterday a friend greeted me with a hug and, “Connie, I’m reading your book, The Road to Forgiveness.  You are so talented!”

As I returned her hug, I responded with a big smile and said, “I’m glad.”

The tinge of pride I experienced at her reference to my talent triggered something within I managed to effectively ignore....until today.  I can’t ignore my talent but have to remind myself it’s a gift from God... as is my having the ability to use it.... and try to remember to pass by my pride and give thanks to God.  I reason it out quite simply....  I have been given an overwhelming need/desire to express God’s working in me.  Naturally, God also gives me the tools I need to fulfill that desire.

I have to smile to myself.  I know the painting will come to me sooner or later.... in God’s time.  I like to think I’m learning to be patient and wait for it.  Hopefully I won’t have to exercise too much patience and it will come tomorrow with the time I’m planning to spend at the studio.  But today.....  Today I think God wants us to spend some quiet, reflective time together and I need to listen.

God Bless!
Connie