This morning as I read this beautiful article Anj wrote it prompted me to share a piece of yesterday morning.
I continue my exploration of coffee shops along this stretch of West Coast that is my community. Just-A-Cuppa was one I hadn’t tried. The sun was shining on its verandah and this had me accepting the invitation to stop. Books, journals, and pens in hand I ordered my Soya Latte and went out into the sunshine. A little bistro table tucked away in the corner received the most sunshine so it was just the right place to spread my books out, put my feet up on the other green plastic garden chair and begin my work.
Working through The Wounded Heart workbook has not been easy and for the last 2 weeks I have been stuck on one particular chapter. A conversation with a family member this week was painful but it unlocked the door to completing the work I needed to do. It isn’t an easy journey but what I love as I travel this road with a friend, is learning it isn’t about keeping the schedule but rather about allowing the Process to be the guide, allowing Ruach to be the guide into deeply wounded areas of the soul. The Ruach/Wind moves at the will of the Almighty and one never knows how or when it will come. You know They are there because Their presence touches you – just like the wind.
Tears came, as the answers to questions prompted by the Workbook were revealed. Tears for what was lost, for lies believed and for the wonder of Truth that now is being unveiled. Tears that this time I didn’t stop but rather let flow, turned my face into the sun and allowed them to be dried by the wind that gently caressed my face, my body, and my heart.
At the other end of the verandah sat a former neighbour. She walks with an uneven gait that perhaps is a by-product of her illness. Her belly is swollen, hugely swollen, with the liver disease that cannot be cured and slowly takes her life. She too had come to sit in the sunshine and sip her beverage. She watched – I felt her watching, knew she was watching my tears. A bite of her sandwich, a sip of her drink, inhaling as she lit another cigarette, and then again she would look over at me – what was she thinking? As I observed her, in between writing, reading, and turning my tears to the sun, there was a softening to her gaze. This gentling in her eyes was like a tender touch to my heart and we looked directly at each other more often. When I was finished I packed away all my paraphernalia and slowly walked along the street. As I passed her she smiled again, looking directly into my eyes and said, take care.
Thank You Abba for the tenderness of every detail that connected through the tears, the sun and a smile. Thank You for bringing them together through the Ruach – the wind of Your presence. Coffee shops are becoming sacred space where You show up on the wind of Your own timing.
Etchings - tentative outlines from which to move as one learns to be more contemplative, to move into this pilgrimage of life and embrace the Mystery that asks us to live with unknowns and surprises.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Trains, Coffee Shops and Life
You know those places where you just sit back and watch the world go by? Trains and coffee shops are two places that work for me. On trains I am moving yet watching what it still while at the coffee shop I am still and watch others move. Trains that sway and rattle and stop in the middle of nowhere, for seemingly no reason, the hissing of the closing door between carriages and whispered conversations in the passageways. Coffee shops that open their windows to the sounds of roaring traffic, clicking heals on the pavement, newspaper pages turning over, and conversations from the mundane to the most exciting gossip someone overhead. Both are venues for unexpected introductions, long conversations and a chance to step out of the traffic. And I have found that both trains and coffee shops allow you to be surrounded by a noise that can change to a symphony when one sits back and listens.
This morning I sat in the sun with my new book The Chosen, sipping my frothy soya latte, reading the national paper. In front of me was a gleaming black bike. Smooth looking tires were what I saw –but then I know little about biking. Well as of this morning I know that there is an Electric bike club at the University of British Columbia, and the motor on this bike took 8 months to arrive from China, at a cost of almost $500. But the lithium battery is what was most costly at another $200 more than the engine. You can cycle for almost an hour before the battery runs out. Now that is something I had no knowledge of and now I know about .005%, but that is more than before I stopped for coffee.
On a train between Seattle and Portland I sat across from a serious looking gentleman that had a leather satchel and his French beret as two distinguishing features. He was most annoyed with children in the carriage so after discussion with the attendant the 3 families were moved elsewhere. With a satisfied sigh he settled in to do some serious reading without the distraction of noise and…. heaven forbid but the passenger in front of him, and adult male, began to snore very loudly! I hid my grin as I watched his grimace of annoyance over something he could do nothing about!
Next month I hope to enjoy both these pastimes in a country to which I have never been before. I will travel by train from Kiev, Ukraine, down to the Crimean Peninsula with a team from here, sit in some coffee shops in this “bread basket of Europe”, try national cuisine, listen to an unfamiliar language and see what I can learn. My last trip to Europe allowed me to sit in coffee shops in Sophia Bulgaria and Budapest Hungary. Ah that lovely strong black European coffee slips down so smoothly and the scent of life keeps my eyes and my heart wide open to the adventure. Beyond the roar of traffic will be the colours of life in this nation that is still struggling to renew its own identity. There will be percolations to share upon my return.
This morning I sat in the sun with my new book The Chosen, sipping my frothy soya latte, reading the national paper. In front of me was a gleaming black bike. Smooth looking tires were what I saw –but then I know little about biking. Well as of this morning I know that there is an Electric bike club at the University of British Columbia, and the motor on this bike took 8 months to arrive from China, at a cost of almost $500. But the lithium battery is what was most costly at another $200 more than the engine. You can cycle for almost an hour before the battery runs out. Now that is something I had no knowledge of and now I know about .005%, but that is more than before I stopped for coffee.
On a train between Seattle and Portland I sat across from a serious looking gentleman that had a leather satchel and his French beret as two distinguishing features. He was most annoyed with children in the carriage so after discussion with the attendant the 3 families were moved elsewhere. With a satisfied sigh he settled in to do some serious reading without the distraction of noise and…. heaven forbid but the passenger in front of him, and adult male, began to snore very loudly! I hid my grin as I watched his grimace of annoyance over something he could do nothing about!
Next month I hope to enjoy both these pastimes in a country to which I have never been before. I will travel by train from Kiev, Ukraine, down to the Crimean Peninsula with a team from here, sit in some coffee shops in this “bread basket of Europe”, try national cuisine, listen to an unfamiliar language and see what I can learn. My last trip to Europe allowed me to sit in coffee shops in Sophia Bulgaria and Budapest Hungary. Ah that lovely strong black European coffee slips down so smoothly and the scent of life keeps my eyes and my heart wide open to the adventure. Beyond the roar of traffic will be the colours of life in this nation that is still struggling to renew its own identity. There will be percolations to share upon my return.
Monday, April 25, 2005
To Be Rescued or Ask for Help?
Give them fish or teach them to fish
Send them food or give them a garden to grow their own food.
Rescue them or help them.
Aid and food supplies are being poured into Africa yet there is more people starving than ever before. Mike posted here on how 30,000 children a day are dying of starvation. Children in North American go to school hungery yet we have abundant supplies of food. The number of homeless on the streets continues to rise and new home starts are up. Governments boast of low unemployment rates yet the cost of welfare is enormous.
A poverty of soul – is that just spiritual or could it be that living in the victim role leaves our emotions, our body and our mind always in want?
I am not looking at this as a judgment of others but as holding open a piece of my own soul that has resided in this ghetto for too long – waiting to be rescued and not asking for help. As I begin to tell my own story and carry it out of the storage cellar of my soul and bring it into the garden of life I am also finding the desert garden of solitude. Solitude gives life, which we can that to community. Being rescued or helped; both are a posture of supplication, holding out of the hands, pleading with the eyes of the soul, of asking for change. One asks you to take me out of this life, fill the empty spaces and with your prayers, your work, make my world perfect. I simply can step out of my old life and into the new. This is the plea to be rescued. The other request is for help. I know I want changes, empty places filled, lies removed and truth brought in, new vision, new thought patterns and more vibrant life. I am asking if you would be willing to walk that road with me. I must choose those changes, and choose the resources that move me in a healing direction, knowing time is necessary for them to become life patterns. Asking for help, as I see it, means one is willing to take responsibility for action while asking others to walk beside you. Asking to be rescued means relieving yourself of the responsibility required while expecting others provide the solutions for you.
There are a number of “make over” programs on TV right now. One year after that make over what life patterns will have changed for these people? Bruce Wilkerson was speaking about living in Africa. He realized that handing out food didn’t solve the picture of emaciated people, but it did sooth the consciences of those living miles away. The immune system of the starving is so low that they cannot absorb the necessary nutrition from the food delivered. When they eat spinach and cabbage and rebuild their immune system, then they can start to eat the foods such as rice and beans that are delivered. His team planted 10,0000 vegetable gardens where the people tended their own garden and provided their own food, allowing them to be self-sustaining. Instead of rescuing, they are helping because they are giving responsibility while walking beside them.
Jesus is in the business of rescuing because he has the ability to fill the empty spaces. I believe he also waits until we choose to ask for help before he does that. He never invades our space. He waits for our invitation because he honours our journey. So then I wonder if my prayer is to be rescued or plea for help? Am I willing to take responsibility for the change by accessing resources? To be rescued I will seek community only for what I can get. Asking for help I seek community to give, to be able to walk beside others in their brokenness, gain courage and give courage. Trusting the presence of God within makes asking for help a way of entering into community.
The romanticized version of life looks for the “white knight” that rescues me. I don’t believe in white knights and I no longer want to be rescued. I do believe in the Lover of my soul and I am asking for help as I live life in the Light and Truth and authentic relationship with the Giver of Life.
Send them food or give them a garden to grow their own food.
Rescue them or help them.
Aid and food supplies are being poured into Africa yet there is more people starving than ever before. Mike posted here on how 30,000 children a day are dying of starvation. Children in North American go to school hungery yet we have abundant supplies of food. The number of homeless on the streets continues to rise and new home starts are up. Governments boast of low unemployment rates yet the cost of welfare is enormous.
A poverty of soul – is that just spiritual or could it be that living in the victim role leaves our emotions, our body and our mind always in want?
I am not looking at this as a judgment of others but as holding open a piece of my own soul that has resided in this ghetto for too long – waiting to be rescued and not asking for help. As I begin to tell my own story and carry it out of the storage cellar of my soul and bring it into the garden of life I am also finding the desert garden of solitude. Solitude gives life, which we can that to community. Being rescued or helped; both are a posture of supplication, holding out of the hands, pleading with the eyes of the soul, of asking for change. One asks you to take me out of this life, fill the empty spaces and with your prayers, your work, make my world perfect. I simply can step out of my old life and into the new. This is the plea to be rescued. The other request is for help. I know I want changes, empty places filled, lies removed and truth brought in, new vision, new thought patterns and more vibrant life. I am asking if you would be willing to walk that road with me. I must choose those changes, and choose the resources that move me in a healing direction, knowing time is necessary for them to become life patterns. Asking for help, as I see it, means one is willing to take responsibility for action while asking others to walk beside you. Asking to be rescued means relieving yourself of the responsibility required while expecting others provide the solutions for you.
There are a number of “make over” programs on TV right now. One year after that make over what life patterns will have changed for these people? Bruce Wilkerson was speaking about living in Africa. He realized that handing out food didn’t solve the picture of emaciated people, but it did sooth the consciences of those living miles away. The immune system of the starving is so low that they cannot absorb the necessary nutrition from the food delivered. When they eat spinach and cabbage and rebuild their immune system, then they can start to eat the foods such as rice and beans that are delivered. His team planted 10,0000 vegetable gardens where the people tended their own garden and provided their own food, allowing them to be self-sustaining. Instead of rescuing, they are helping because they are giving responsibility while walking beside them.
Jesus is in the business of rescuing because he has the ability to fill the empty spaces. I believe he also waits until we choose to ask for help before he does that. He never invades our space. He waits for our invitation because he honours our journey. So then I wonder if my prayer is to be rescued or plea for help? Am I willing to take responsibility for the change by accessing resources? To be rescued I will seek community only for what I can get. Asking for help I seek community to give, to be able to walk beside others in their brokenness, gain courage and give courage. Trusting the presence of God within makes asking for help a way of entering into community.
The romanticized version of life looks for the “white knight” that rescues me. I don’t believe in white knights and I no longer want to be rescued. I do believe in the Lover of my soul and I am asking for help as I live life in the Light and Truth and authentic relationship with the Giver of Life.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Flashes of Insight on the Road
Busy, in the middle of mundane and then suddenly, quietly, pieces of truth are visible. I was going to say truth is suddenly written upon your heart but I believe the reality is Truth was written within and hibernating until we are ready for it to be whispered by the Spirit.
Things have been exceptionally busy over the last number of weeks with very early mornings and very long days. The Journey, which I am part of the team for, was a joy to prepare meals for, but the preparation and cleanup is an endless process. I needed some more cabbage for a salad and so a quick trip to the store on a gorgeous warm sunny day was not too difficult.
Sun roof open, rays streaming into the car, and the sound of the wind – ahhhh summer is coming. I am tired from the business but there isn’t a stressful fatigue attached to that, which is unusual for me. “Oh it must be that people are praying for me” I thought. Of course! Then the whisper of the Spirit asking “what if there was no one praying for you? Could it be that you are simply trusting the One who gives you shalom in the midst of chaos or business?” Like a gentleness, an exhaling, the acknowledging of what is reflex I knew the truth - it was my trusting the presence of Yeshua within, of Abba within, of the Spirit within breathing energy into my mind, body and heart. Their breathing, my trusting of that breathing has allowed me love and laughter instead of exhaustion. Others may encourage us with prayer but the hope and energy is the presence of the Triune God active within.
This then lead me to a question I have been pondering on the difference between asking for help and asking to be rescued. Asking for help, as I see it, means one is willing to take responsibility for action while asking others to walk beside you. Asking to be rescued means relieving yourself of the responsibility required while expecting others provide the solutions for you. Trusting the presence of God within makes asking for help a way of entering into community. More thoughts on this another time.
A quick trip to the store became a teaching moment on relaxing effects of trust! As I type this I hear Jesus words:
I’m telling you these things while I’m still living with you.
He will remind you of all these things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left – feeling abandoned, bereft.
You heard me tell you…so that when it does happen, the confirmation will deepen your belief in me.
Things have been exceptionally busy over the last number of weeks with very early mornings and very long days. The Journey, which I am part of the team for, was a joy to prepare meals for, but the preparation and cleanup is an endless process. I needed some more cabbage for a salad and so a quick trip to the store on a gorgeous warm sunny day was not too difficult.
Sun roof open, rays streaming into the car, and the sound of the wind – ahhhh summer is coming. I am tired from the business but there isn’t a stressful fatigue attached to that, which is unusual for me. “Oh it must be that people are praying for me” I thought. Of course! Then the whisper of the Spirit asking “what if there was no one praying for you? Could it be that you are simply trusting the One who gives you shalom in the midst of chaos or business?” Like a gentleness, an exhaling, the acknowledging of what is reflex I knew the truth - it was my trusting the presence of Yeshua within, of Abba within, of the Spirit within breathing energy into my mind, body and heart. Their breathing, my trusting of that breathing has allowed me love and laughter instead of exhaustion. Others may encourage us with prayer but the hope and energy is the presence of the Triune God active within.
This then lead me to a question I have been pondering on the difference between asking for help and asking to be rescued. Asking for help, as I see it, means one is willing to take responsibility for action while asking others to walk beside you. Asking to be rescued means relieving yourself of the responsibility required while expecting others provide the solutions for you. Trusting the presence of God within makes asking for help a way of entering into community. More thoughts on this another time.
A quick trip to the store became a teaching moment on relaxing effects of trust! As I type this I hear Jesus words:
I’m telling you these things while I’m still living with you.
He will remind you of all these things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left – feeling abandoned, bereft.
You heard me tell you…so that when it does happen, the confirmation will deepen your belief in me.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Where Does the Rage Go?
When my only daughter, Julie, was killed, I joined a “club” that I wish had no members. The price of admission is too high. I know the pain of losing a loved one because of a senseless act of violence.
But I also remembered the time Julie and I were driving across Iowa during her junior year of college, listening to a newscast on the radio about an execution. Julie said, “Dad, what they're doing in Texas makes me sick. All they're doing is teaching hate to their children. It has no social redeeming value.” I didn't think much about it at the time, but after Julie was killed, it kept echoing in my mind.
Read the rest of this thought provoking article that is asking some good questions on where we put rage when a horrible tragedy happens? This man's daughter was killed in Oklahoma.
This isn't a posting for or against the death penalty, as you will see in this article, but it is just leading me to ponder how or where we release our anger.
Also look at this article on the Red Lake tragedy that I was linked to through Daily Dig.
I have been working with our team at The Journey this week, and find myself seeing where others anger has put these women in crisis and how their own anger has been dealt with through addictions and other self harming ways. And I wonder what those inner spaces of anger and pain would look like if we each would hold these hurting children in the Light? Is there just one person today that I could be Jesus to to share that inner pain for?
But I also remembered the time Julie and I were driving across Iowa during her junior year of college, listening to a newscast on the radio about an execution. Julie said, “Dad, what they're doing in Texas makes me sick. All they're doing is teaching hate to their children. It has no social redeeming value.” I didn't think much about it at the time, but after Julie was killed, it kept echoing in my mind.
Read the rest of this thought provoking article that is asking some good questions on where we put rage when a horrible tragedy happens? This man's daughter was killed in Oklahoma.
This isn't a posting for or against the death penalty, as you will see in this article, but it is just leading me to ponder how or where we release our anger.
Also look at this article on the Red Lake tragedy that I was linked to through Daily Dig.
I have been working with our team at The Journey this week, and find myself seeing where others anger has put these women in crisis and how their own anger has been dealt with through addictions and other self harming ways. And I wonder what those inner spaces of anger and pain would look like if we each would hold these hurting children in the Light? Is there just one person today that I could be Jesus to to share that inner pain for?
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
May the Lord Bless you
"Most are familiar with the beginning of the Aaronic blessing; "May the LORD bless you and keep you" (Numbers 6:24). We often read or say these words without really knowing what they mean. The words "bless" and "keep" are abstract words which we are familiar with in English. But, the ancient Hebrews were concrete thinkers who relate all things to concrete ideas.
The Hebrew word for "bless" is "barak" which literally means "to kneel". A berakah is a "blessing" but more literally, the bringing of a gift to another on a bended "knee". When we bless God or others, we are in essence, bringing a gift on bended "knee". A true king is one who serves his people, one who will humble himself and come to his people on a bended knee.
The Hebrew word for "keep" is "shamar" which literally means "to guard". A related word is "shamiyr" which means "thorn". When the shepherd was out in the wilderness with his flock, he would construct a corral of thorn bushes to protect the sheep from predators, a guarding over of the sheep."
The Hebrew word for "bless" is "barak" which literally means "to kneel". A berakah is a "blessing" but more literally, the bringing of a gift to another on a bended "knee". When we bless God or others, we are in essence, bringing a gift on bended "knee". A true king is one who serves his people, one who will humble himself and come to his people on a bended knee.
The Hebrew word for "keep" is "shamar" which literally means "to guard". A related word is "shamiyr" which means "thorn". When the shepherd was out in the wilderness with his flock, he would construct a corral of thorn bushes to protect the sheep from predators, a guarding over of the sheep."
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Colour of Honour
To grasp a concept I need to think in pictures, or colours. Recently a friend and I were speaking about honour and she asked me “what colour is honour for you”?
Magenta or red – both strong bold colours I love, but not the colour of honour. I have been thinking about it in the weeks since she asked. Yesterday, out in the warm sun on a beautiful spring day I heard the whisper – the colour of honour is GOLD.
Oxford describes honour as: respect, regard, mark of privilege, integrity, righteousness, esteem, moral identity.
The Hebrew word is Kabod (Kaw-bade), which means weight, splendor, copiousness, one’s inner character or reputation.
Gold represents:
- Eternal deity
- Stands the test of time
- Elements with not deteriorate it
- It is symbolic of sacredness
- Faith is tested through the elements to become this colour
- It is a primary colour (yellow) and we cannot create it, it is.
Honour your tears
Honour your story
Honour your heart
I will allow my tears to be gold
I will allow my story to be painted in gold
I will allow my heart to be bathed in gold
I will allow my body, all of it, to be gold
I will allow the sacredness of His breath to be the gold within me.
I invite Them to come and paint the gold of honour into this day
I ask that my words, worship, and dance will bring gold to others today.
Magenta or red – both strong bold colours I love, but not the colour of honour. I have been thinking about it in the weeks since she asked. Yesterday, out in the warm sun on a beautiful spring day I heard the whisper – the colour of honour is GOLD.
Oxford describes honour as: respect, regard, mark of privilege, integrity, righteousness, esteem, moral identity.
The Hebrew word is Kabod (Kaw-bade), which means weight, splendor, copiousness, one’s inner character or reputation.
Gold represents:
- Eternal deity
- Stands the test of time
- Elements with not deteriorate it
- It is symbolic of sacredness
- Faith is tested through the elements to become this colour
- It is a primary colour (yellow) and we cannot create it, it is.
Honour your tears
Honour your story
Honour your heart
I will allow my tears to be gold
I will allow my story to be painted in gold
I will allow my heart to be bathed in gold
I will allow my body, all of it, to be gold
I will allow the sacredness of His breath to be the gold within me.
I invite Them to come and paint the gold of honour into this day
I ask that my words, worship, and dance will bring gold to others today.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Breathing Exercises
Teach me your ways, O Lord
That I may life according to your truth!
- breathe in, breathe out
- breathe in truth, breathe out lies
- breathe in passion, breathe out passivity and stagnancy
- breathe in and open the heart to the presence of the Trinity
- breathe Them in and be fully open to this day
Grant me purity of heart so I may honor you
- I bring the dark places into the Light
- I hold them, with trembling hands, open to your gaze Yahweh
- I honor the redeeming process of healing within so I may honor you Yahweh
- Light gives honor to what once was shame
With all my heart I will praise you, O Lord my God
- Breath/ heart voice becomes embodied prayer. My mind, heart and body participate in this praise/ conversation to and with the Trinity
- All the heart participates because it is holding open all ventricles and chambers to the Light
I will give glory to your name forever, for your love for me is great
- there is no season change to this flow of love, passion, life
- there is no season of change in this faithful lover of the mind, body and soul
This breathing exercise of meditation in Psalm 86 has been my morning deep breathe for the last 3 days. Would that praise and dance becomes reflex breathing for my mind, heart and body. As I read this following passage from Embodied Prayer, the thread of reflex, breathing, spontaneity and dancing was wound together.
The Hebrew worship could not be contained in their hearts but had to reach every fibre of their bodies, fulfilling that well known command to love God with all your heart, soul and strength. Their dance was characterized by notions of spontaneous praise and worship, a prayer of thanksgiving for what God had done in their lives. It was not a rehearsed step-by-step dance, but a dance that swept their thanksgiving into their fingers and toes.
That I may life according to your truth!
- breathe in, breathe out
- breathe in truth, breathe out lies
- breathe in passion, breathe out passivity and stagnancy
- breathe in and open the heart to the presence of the Trinity
- breathe Them in and be fully open to this day
Grant me purity of heart so I may honor you
- I bring the dark places into the Light
- I hold them, with trembling hands, open to your gaze Yahweh
- I honor the redeeming process of healing within so I may honor you Yahweh
- Light gives honor to what once was shame
With all my heart I will praise you, O Lord my God
- Breath/ heart voice becomes embodied prayer. My mind, heart and body participate in this praise/ conversation to and with the Trinity
- All the heart participates because it is holding open all ventricles and chambers to the Light
I will give glory to your name forever, for your love for me is great
- there is no season change to this flow of love, passion, life
- there is no season of change in this faithful lover of the mind, body and soul
This breathing exercise of meditation in Psalm 86 has been my morning deep breathe for the last 3 days. Would that praise and dance becomes reflex breathing for my mind, heart and body. As I read this following passage from Embodied Prayer, the thread of reflex, breathing, spontaneity and dancing was wound together.
The Hebrew worship could not be contained in their hearts but had to reach every fibre of their bodies, fulfilling that well known command to love God with all your heart, soul and strength. Their dance was characterized by notions of spontaneous praise and worship, a prayer of thanksgiving for what God had done in their lives. It was not a rehearsed step-by-step dance, but a dance that swept their thanksgiving into their fingers and toes.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Gentleness Breaks
My good friend over here writes of a heritage that was not an easy place to be a woman. Silence, strange biblical ideas, and distorted views of feminity resulting in distorted views on the feminine of Yahweh’s character. I have a similar background and we were chatting on the stress that can cause as we unravel the lies, keep truth, and discern how to move forward in that misrepresented mosaic at our feet. She recommended “gentleness breaks” and here were some ideas:
- play with a child
- pet a puppy
- enjoy a long nap
- make a cup of tea/coffee
- walk with a friend
- ask for a hug
- do something not useful but fun
- sit by a lake or a stream (or if you're spoiled the ocean!) :)
- work in a garden
- meditate
- listen to favorite music
- talk with a friend
- read a novel
- watch the sun set
- sit with a teddy bear
- ask someone to nurture you (i think that one is the best of all!)
So tonight I have had my own “gentleness break”:
-danced in the front room with Sebastian in my arms. Sebastian is a willing dance partner, and yes really, he loves it even though he is a cat.
-Listened to Duetto with Marcelo Alvarez and Salvatore Licitra. With tenor voices filling the room as the sun goes, there is such a sense of pace, shalom. They sing of mystery, of love, of the wind, of oceans, futures and pasts, la dolce vita, and pearl fishers.
-Prepared something to eat that is colourful and fresh. Some fresh organic greens, chopped grape tomatoes, a handful of fresh chopped parsley and roasted red pepper dressing, along with a seared lamb chop (crisp outside and tender inside) and some mint sauce. Colour, flavour, fragrance and texture mixed together exponentially enhance the experience of “breaking bread”.
If you haven’t tried one so far this week, find a moment and take a gentleness break! It is a reminder that we were meant to connect heart, mind and body and the gentleness of the wind, of Ruach will meet you there.
- play with a child
- pet a puppy
- enjoy a long nap
- make a cup of tea/coffee
- walk with a friend
- ask for a hug
- do something not useful but fun
- sit by a lake or a stream (or if you're spoiled the ocean!) :)
- work in a garden
- meditate
- listen to favorite music
- talk with a friend
- read a novel
- watch the sun set
- sit with a teddy bear
- ask someone to nurture you (i think that one is the best of all!)
So tonight I have had my own “gentleness break”:
-danced in the front room with Sebastian in my arms. Sebastian is a willing dance partner, and yes really, he loves it even though he is a cat.
-Listened to Duetto with Marcelo Alvarez and Salvatore Licitra. With tenor voices filling the room as the sun goes, there is such a sense of pace, shalom. They sing of mystery, of love, of the wind, of oceans, futures and pasts, la dolce vita, and pearl fishers.
-Prepared something to eat that is colourful and fresh. Some fresh organic greens, chopped grape tomatoes, a handful of fresh chopped parsley and roasted red pepper dressing, along with a seared lamb chop (crisp outside and tender inside) and some mint sauce. Colour, flavour, fragrance and texture mixed together exponentially enhance the experience of “breaking bread”.
If you haven’t tried one so far this week, find a moment and take a gentleness break! It is a reminder that we were meant to connect heart, mind and body and the gentleness of the wind, of Ruach will meet you there.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Fast Food Temptation
Driving home tonight, after a 12-hour day, I thought about making supper and then I thought I am too tired and too lazy so I would pick something up. Well there is McDonalds – definitely not. Across the street is Wendy’s – well no, I don’t think so. Then there is A & W, a good old Canadian tradition and one of the first carhop venues in the country. Now you have to know, I have a great weakness for French fries, and also for poutine. Poutine is a French Canadian dish of fries, cheese curds and gravy. In grade 12 I had French fries and gravy every morning in the school cafeteria between classes!! Okay okay I admit it – I really love French fries and gravy. I even like the Dutch frites mit peanut sauce.
So tonight, being tired, having prepared a special French toast for the guests breakfast at work, and then risotto with grilled vegetables for lunch, and not feeling like cooking, buying supper seemed like a good idea. It is so easy to drive through, exchange the money for the food and head home to eat. That's the point of fast food - instant gratification.
But…ah ha…the budget said “NO” and the health conscious corner of my brain concurred with the budget so the little Jetta drove right on by A& W and straight home! And Sebastian the cat would not be pleased at an unhealthy choice.
Let me see, there was organic veggies – swiss chard, zucchini, and onions. The package of steam-fried noodles had enough for one portion. A tin of coconut milk was sitting by itself on the shelf (no I don’t keep heaps of food in my house for a “just in case” scenario!); there are a few almonds and some curry powder too.
My own creation of "fast food" was most delicious and I behaved myself and bypassed the French fries, and the poutine. Stir fried onion, zucchini and swiss chard in a little vegetable oil and sesame oil and then some chopped almonds were added and a bit of curry powder. The steam fried noodles were boiled for 2 minutes, yes that is all they need, drained and added to the veggies and then a bit of coconut milk. Tastes like Singapore fried noodles from the Chinese restaurant but no MSG.
Now it is time to do some chores here and enjoy the extra light that longer days have brought along.
So tonight, being tired, having prepared a special French toast for the guests breakfast at work, and then risotto with grilled vegetables for lunch, and not feeling like cooking, buying supper seemed like a good idea. It is so easy to drive through, exchange the money for the food and head home to eat. That's the point of fast food - instant gratification.
But…ah ha…the budget said “NO” and the health conscious corner of my brain concurred with the budget so the little Jetta drove right on by A& W and straight home! And Sebastian the cat would not be pleased at an unhealthy choice.
Let me see, there was organic veggies – swiss chard, zucchini, and onions. The package of steam-fried noodles had enough for one portion. A tin of coconut milk was sitting by itself on the shelf (no I don’t keep heaps of food in my house for a “just in case” scenario!); there are a few almonds and some curry powder too.
My own creation of "fast food" was most delicious and I behaved myself and bypassed the French fries, and the poutine. Stir fried onion, zucchini and swiss chard in a little vegetable oil and sesame oil and then some chopped almonds were added and a bit of curry powder. The steam fried noodles were boiled for 2 minutes, yes that is all they need, drained and added to the veggies and then a bit of coconut milk. Tastes like Singapore fried noodles from the Chinese restaurant but no MSG.
Now it is time to do some chores here and enjoy the extra light that longer days have brought along.
Grief and Anger
I have posted several times on the subject of anger. Anger is the outward response to inner pain, from my experience. I continue to research what it means and what it looks like - lies and truth.
My first thought, and maybe yours too, is that anger and grief are two completely separate emotions. To me, anger seems to be directed more outward while grief is more directed inward. But as Ronald Rolheiser points out, “…anger and grief are not that different. On the surface, they appear antithetical, oil and vinegar, but examined more closely, most of the time they are expressions of the same thing, love that has been wounded and yearns for reconciliation.” (emphasis mine) (Quote from Ronald Rolheiser - at CowPi Journal)
This article from CowPi Journal entitled Honest Anger, Honest Grief, is very good. I suggest you read the complete article.
My first thought, and maybe yours too, is that anger and grief are two completely separate emotions. To me, anger seems to be directed more outward while grief is more directed inward. But as Ronald Rolheiser points out, “…anger and grief are not that different. On the surface, they appear antithetical, oil and vinegar, but examined more closely, most of the time they are expressions of the same thing, love that has been wounded and yearns for reconciliation.” (emphasis mine) (Quote from Ronald Rolheiser - at CowPi Journal)
This article from CowPi Journal entitled Honest Anger, Honest Grief, is very good. I suggest you read the complete article.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
How Long, How Long?
Does anyone hear the voice of the oppressed? Does anyone respond?
So much media attention on events these days and yet when the fan fare is over has it made a lasting difference? A question that must have been asked for hundreds of years in a wide range of scenarios.
Last night I watched the CBC Passionate Eye documentary Daughters of Afghanistan. The journalist followed the lives of 4 women and a young girl, beginning in the spring of 2002. Go here to read the whole article. What was heart wrenching was to hear Dr Sima Sumar’s story. A brilliant passionate women who spent 6 months in the new Government of her country, only to be ousted by the fanatics. Only to find herself rejected in her country, and the International community ignoring what they previously had passionately stood beside her in. How soon we move on to another cause? How long, how long will we continue to sweep the abuse of power over women under the carpet?
Then this morning I read Rick’s article, This I don't understand, and I wept. How long, how long will it be that the area of sexual abuse will be swept under the carpet by the Church?
Mike draws our attention to the fact that 30,000 children starve to death every day. How long, how long will the helpless little ones be left to die?
Jane Fonda’s new book My Life So Far details her journey through lies that created a strange and false picture for her, as a young girl, on the truth of her own sexuality. Some don’t want those details, but as someone I respect said to me, unless you look at the details you will never uncover the truth. How long, how long do we hide from our own truth, God’s truth of who we are as sexual beings?
A prophet of old, Jeremiah, wandered in the desert, crying out for truth saying how long, how long?
How long will these voices be silenced? How long will I live silencing them?
Abba, oh Abba how long ?
So much media attention on events these days and yet when the fan fare is over has it made a lasting difference? A question that must have been asked for hundreds of years in a wide range of scenarios.
Last night I watched the CBC Passionate Eye documentary Daughters of Afghanistan. The journalist followed the lives of 4 women and a young girl, beginning in the spring of 2002. Go here to read the whole article. What was heart wrenching was to hear Dr Sima Sumar’s story. A brilliant passionate women who spent 6 months in the new Government of her country, only to be ousted by the fanatics. Only to find herself rejected in her country, and the International community ignoring what they previously had passionately stood beside her in. How soon we move on to another cause? How long, how long will we continue to sweep the abuse of power over women under the carpet?
Then this morning I read Rick’s article, This I don't understand, and I wept. How long, how long will it be that the area of sexual abuse will be swept under the carpet by the Church?
Mike draws our attention to the fact that 30,000 children starve to death every day. How long, how long will the helpless little ones be left to die?
Jane Fonda’s new book My Life So Far details her journey through lies that created a strange and false picture for her, as a young girl, on the truth of her own sexuality. Some don’t want those details, but as someone I respect said to me, unless you look at the details you will never uncover the truth. How long, how long do we hide from our own truth, God’s truth of who we are as sexual beings?
A prophet of old, Jeremiah, wandered in the desert, crying out for truth saying how long, how long?
How long will these voices be silenced? How long will I live silencing them?
Abba, oh Abba how long ?
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Disfigured Hands, Disfigured Hearts
Daily Dig had an article this week about hands. Philip Yancy was recalling some of the stories about his friend Dr Paul Brand and the work with leprosy patients in India. Dr Brand gave dignity to those whose hands were deformed or non-existent from this disease. He gave dignity to the soul to which those hands were attached.
The patients insisted on a few words from Dr. Brand, and he reluctantly agreed. He stood for a moment, empty of ideas, looking at the patients before him. His eyes were drawn to their hands, dozens of them, most pulled inward in the familiar "leprosy claw-hand," some with no fingers, some with a few stumps. Many patients sat on their hands or otherwise hid them from view.
"I am a hand surgeon," he began, and waited for the translation into Tamil and Hindi. "So when I meet people, I can't help looking at their hands. The palmist claims he can tell your future by looking at your hands. I can tell your past. For instance, I can tell what your trade has been by the position of the calluses and the condition of the nails. I can tell a lot about your character; I love hands."
As he finished, Paul Brand was again conscious of hands as they were lifted, all over the courtyard, palm to palm in the Indian gesture of respect, namaste. The hands were the same stumps, the same missing fingers and crooked arches. Yet no one tried to hide them. They were held high, close to the face, in respect for Brand, but also with new pride and dignity. God's own response to suffering made theirs easier.
Hands have always fascinated me and they tell much about each person. Dr Brandt speaks of hands telling our past, and our character. I saw those hands, lifted, palm to palm, disfigured but not hidden, part of the whole person who was isolated from society. I saw our hearts, like these leprous hands, disfigured, parts shut down, pulled inward, and isolated from life. What would it be like to find community where we recognize that each heart is like these hands? What would it be like to have community where we did not hide our hearts but instead lifted them up, held them open, face to face with Jesus and each other, finding renewed pride and dignity that God’s own response to suffering affirmed?
I find tears coming as the power of this picture of truth calls me to lift my heart up, open, in dignity, and stand with you as you lift yours. And in that place Jesus puts His wounded hands upon us in mercy, grace, forgiveness and love. Palm to palm, face to face, with respect, honor and dignity.
The patients insisted on a few words from Dr. Brand, and he reluctantly agreed. He stood for a moment, empty of ideas, looking at the patients before him. His eyes were drawn to their hands, dozens of them, most pulled inward in the familiar "leprosy claw-hand," some with no fingers, some with a few stumps. Many patients sat on their hands or otherwise hid them from view.
"I am a hand surgeon," he began, and waited for the translation into Tamil and Hindi. "So when I meet people, I can't help looking at their hands. The palmist claims he can tell your future by looking at your hands. I can tell your past. For instance, I can tell what your trade has been by the position of the calluses and the condition of the nails. I can tell a lot about your character; I love hands."
As he finished, Paul Brand was again conscious of hands as they were lifted, all over the courtyard, palm to palm in the Indian gesture of respect, namaste. The hands were the same stumps, the same missing fingers and crooked arches. Yet no one tried to hide them. They were held high, close to the face, in respect for Brand, but also with new pride and dignity. God's own response to suffering made theirs easier.
Hands have always fascinated me and they tell much about each person. Dr Brandt speaks of hands telling our past, and our character. I saw those hands, lifted, palm to palm, disfigured but not hidden, part of the whole person who was isolated from society. I saw our hearts, like these leprous hands, disfigured, parts shut down, pulled inward, and isolated from life. What would it be like to find community where we recognize that each heart is like these hands? What would it be like to have community where we did not hide our hearts but instead lifted them up, held them open, face to face with Jesus and each other, finding renewed pride and dignity that God’s own response to suffering affirmed?
I find tears coming as the power of this picture of truth calls me to lift my heart up, open, in dignity, and stand with you as you lift yours. And in that place Jesus puts His wounded hands upon us in mercy, grace, forgiveness and love. Palm to palm, face to face, with respect, honor and dignity.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Shifting the Soul Plates
Shifting, changing, moving through the layers, in ways that have are unpredictable.
There is a tough, brittle outer shell, yet deep within is a softness mingled with the heat of emotions that move and shift.
In the earth itself there is a cooler brittle shell that is formed by plates that shift and move as the underlying heat from the center of the earth rises up, finds a weak spot and moves into the atmosphere. The shifting of these plates is constant but when they grind together, the result is an earthquake or tsunami. In order for the heat deep within to be released it must move through many layers and finally through the brittle shell of the earth’s surface. This is an elementary sketch of the geological wonder of plate tectonics.
All day I have been looking at the similarity between these shifting plates in the earth, and the shifting within the soul when truth comes to displace the inner lies – plate tectonics of the soul. When grace meets with deep wounding, it urges the shifting and moving out of the boiling anger and pain that continually feed the wounds. Grace, truth and love must push the lies toward the surface, move it through the layers of our subconscious, to conscious, through numbness into emotions and finally through the brittle shell we have built around our heart to protect us. In the moving out of these lies, the result can be a cataclysmic effect on our whole being!
Over the last week I have been writing out my story. It has been difficult to write down, to accept as my own story, and acknowledge that it is all significant. Deep down, through those layers of pain, joy, sorrow, sin, forgiveness, grace and redemption also lies anger, confusion, and unknowns. Oh I have given permission to Abba to search those places, to open them up and lay them bare but like the core of the earth, there lies a deep rawness. As I wrote it came to the surface and some of those brittle plates of armour and protection shifted, grinding together.
I shared with a friend that I see myself standing on a roadway beside a manhole with the cover removed. There is a putrid smell of sewage, garbage and festering, and try as I might to replace that manhole lid, I cannot, and Abba will not allow it. Once the permission was given for the Divine to search within there is no turning away from it.
Yesterday I sat down with two people I feel very safe with, and asked them to hear my story. Certain events still hold deep raw pain. There are years between the event and yesterday, the power of the emotions took me by surprise. I did not expect my heart, my mind and my body to react so visibly when telling certain parts of the story. Deep within there still lies more anger and pain that begs to be released. The emotions that rose to the surface were those plates of protection shifted, yawing wide open. Truth, gentleness, grace and unconditional love were poured into the place of brokenness and weakness.
As the Spirit moves within and causes the shifting, even the grinding of those brittle soul plates, He breathes into the soul to the release lies, festering, anger, and confusion. I am sure this process will continue, in fact I invite Abba, Yeshua and the Spirit to do so. We were not designed to be like the earth with a cool brittle exterior. We are designed to be tender, vulnerable, and open to the Light of God’s grace, love and truth. Life experiences and lies have changed this for many, for most, but the Master Designed doesn’t loose sight of His original and intended design.
Abba as you shift, change, move through the layers of our lives, with the wind of your Spirit, we hold our dark places open to the Light of your gaze. Continue the work of moving us past the lies, through the wounding and into the truth of your passionate living. Forgive me, be merciful in your extravagant healing, cleansing ways.
O Dio, investigami, e conosci il mio cuore;
Provami, e concosci I miei pensieri;
E vedi se vi e in me alcuna via iniqua;
E giudami per la via del mondo.
Psalm 139:23, 24
There is a tough, brittle outer shell, yet deep within is a softness mingled with the heat of emotions that move and shift.
In the earth itself there is a cooler brittle shell that is formed by plates that shift and move as the underlying heat from the center of the earth rises up, finds a weak spot and moves into the atmosphere. The shifting of these plates is constant but when they grind together, the result is an earthquake or tsunami. In order for the heat deep within to be released it must move through many layers and finally through the brittle shell of the earth’s surface. This is an elementary sketch of the geological wonder of plate tectonics.
All day I have been looking at the similarity between these shifting plates in the earth, and the shifting within the soul when truth comes to displace the inner lies – plate tectonics of the soul. When grace meets with deep wounding, it urges the shifting and moving out of the boiling anger and pain that continually feed the wounds. Grace, truth and love must push the lies toward the surface, move it through the layers of our subconscious, to conscious, through numbness into emotions and finally through the brittle shell we have built around our heart to protect us. In the moving out of these lies, the result can be a cataclysmic effect on our whole being!
Over the last week I have been writing out my story. It has been difficult to write down, to accept as my own story, and acknowledge that it is all significant. Deep down, through those layers of pain, joy, sorrow, sin, forgiveness, grace and redemption also lies anger, confusion, and unknowns. Oh I have given permission to Abba to search those places, to open them up and lay them bare but like the core of the earth, there lies a deep rawness. As I wrote it came to the surface and some of those brittle plates of armour and protection shifted, grinding together.
I shared with a friend that I see myself standing on a roadway beside a manhole with the cover removed. There is a putrid smell of sewage, garbage and festering, and try as I might to replace that manhole lid, I cannot, and Abba will not allow it. Once the permission was given for the Divine to search within there is no turning away from it.
Yesterday I sat down with two people I feel very safe with, and asked them to hear my story. Certain events still hold deep raw pain. There are years between the event and yesterday, the power of the emotions took me by surprise. I did not expect my heart, my mind and my body to react so visibly when telling certain parts of the story. Deep within there still lies more anger and pain that begs to be released. The emotions that rose to the surface were those plates of protection shifted, yawing wide open. Truth, gentleness, grace and unconditional love were poured into the place of brokenness and weakness.
As the Spirit moves within and causes the shifting, even the grinding of those brittle soul plates, He breathes into the soul to the release lies, festering, anger, and confusion. I am sure this process will continue, in fact I invite Abba, Yeshua and the Spirit to do so. We were not designed to be like the earth with a cool brittle exterior. We are designed to be tender, vulnerable, and open to the Light of God’s grace, love and truth. Life experiences and lies have changed this for many, for most, but the Master Designed doesn’t loose sight of His original and intended design.
Abba as you shift, change, move through the layers of our lives, with the wind of your Spirit, we hold our dark places open to the Light of your gaze. Continue the work of moving us past the lies, through the wounding and into the truth of your passionate living. Forgive me, be merciful in your extravagant healing, cleansing ways.
O Dio, investigami, e conosci il mio cuore;
Provami, e concosci I miei pensieri;
E vedi se vi e in me alcuna via iniqua;
E giudami per la via del mondo.
Psalm 139:23, 24
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
A Story I'd Love to Hear
She was an outcast, an undesirable, someone to stay away from. For twelve years, unexplained, non- stop menstrual bleeding had been her curse. Religious law stated that a bleeding woman was not to be touched in any way – no hugs, no good morning kiss, no snuggling close, no sexual contact. Stopping for afternoon chats with friends would never happen, sitting under the stars at night to visit was out – a life of isolation. Her only place of refuge was "the tent" of the women. In those twelve years she had lived without the love language of touch. How did she survive that? When a great healer came to town, in her desperation for a cure, she risked mingling in a crowd, so she could touch Jesus and see if He could make a difference in her life.
I suffered from the painful condition endometriosis, and went through many surgeries. That was a place of isolation. I get a glimpse of her suffering.
I love this description from Eugene Petersen in the Message of her risk taking:
But he went on asking, looking around to see who had done it. The woman knowing what had happened, knowing she was the one, stepped up in fear and trembling, knelt before him, and gave him the whole story.
Jesus said to her, Daughter you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed! Be healed of your plague.
End of story – as we read it. But I am certain that is not the end of the story. In fact so often in the church we want this to be the end of the story. “Oh good, that person has been healed and I no longer have to put in the effort to walk with them in their suffering.” Is everything instant? I recognize it can be but in reality it rarely is.
Here was a woman who had to go home and begin building friendships. People who had shunned her would find it hard to believe she was healed. And how would she prove it to them? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing too? Her very personal intimate part of life was well known and what isolated her, not because of “sin” but because of a health issue. How much do we do that? And how do we stand and judge “sin” and not look at ourselves? The healing process for this beautiful lady would have been a long road, full of tears, frustration, and maybe even at times she would have wondered why she had bothered at all because of how people would still treat her.
Sometimes I wonder if instant healing for a person is our selfish way of saying we no longer have to walk that long road to wholeness with them. We want them to have the instant fix so we can turn away from our own need of healing, and continue to ignore it.
This woman was incredibly courageous to reach out to Jesus, and He affirmed it when he publicly spoke of her risk of faith. Then he said not only was she healed but that she was whole. Live well and be blessed! He KNEW the tough road ahead, the road of getting back into community, back into relationships. And so Jesus clearly spoke into the fact that she was body, mind and heart whole and complete, nothing missing, nothing that left her as less that a beautiful vibrant feminine woman. And oh how I would love to sit with her and hear her story after she felt the change and knew her plague was over and done with.
When any healing happens there is always more to the story, a deeper piece that we don’t often take the time to hear. Risk taking and vulnerability is the story that lies behind or beneath the one on the surface. In the telling of that story, the holding of it in the Light, comes the true holistic healing that Jesus talks of.
I suffered from the painful condition endometriosis, and went through many surgeries. That was a place of isolation. I get a glimpse of her suffering.
I love this description from Eugene Petersen in the Message of her risk taking:
But he went on asking, looking around to see who had done it. The woman knowing what had happened, knowing she was the one, stepped up in fear and trembling, knelt before him, and gave him the whole story.
Jesus said to her, Daughter you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed! Be healed of your plague.
End of story – as we read it. But I am certain that is not the end of the story. In fact so often in the church we want this to be the end of the story. “Oh good, that person has been healed and I no longer have to put in the effort to walk with them in their suffering.” Is everything instant? I recognize it can be but in reality it rarely is.
Here was a woman who had to go home and begin building friendships. People who had shunned her would find it hard to believe she was healed. And how would she prove it to them? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing too? Her very personal intimate part of life was well known and what isolated her, not because of “sin” but because of a health issue. How much do we do that? And how do we stand and judge “sin” and not look at ourselves? The healing process for this beautiful lady would have been a long road, full of tears, frustration, and maybe even at times she would have wondered why she had bothered at all because of how people would still treat her.
Sometimes I wonder if instant healing for a person is our selfish way of saying we no longer have to walk that long road to wholeness with them. We want them to have the instant fix so we can turn away from our own need of healing, and continue to ignore it.
This woman was incredibly courageous to reach out to Jesus, and He affirmed it when he publicly spoke of her risk of faith. Then he said not only was she healed but that she was whole. Live well and be blessed! He KNEW the tough road ahead, the road of getting back into community, back into relationships. And so Jesus clearly spoke into the fact that she was body, mind and heart whole and complete, nothing missing, nothing that left her as less that a beautiful vibrant feminine woman. And oh how I would love to sit with her and hear her story after she felt the change and knew her plague was over and done with.
When any healing happens there is always more to the story, a deeper piece that we don’t often take the time to hear. Risk taking and vulnerability is the story that lies behind or beneath the one on the surface. In the telling of that story, the holding of it in the Light, comes the true holistic healing that Jesus talks of.
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