Hibernation, Light and Redemption

The dining room table is almost 100 years old; it is heavy oak with 3 leaves that are now a darker shade than the grand piece itself. My great Grandparents and their 10 children used to sit round it and I am sure there are many stories it can tell. Yet the mother of this family, my Great Grandmother was deaf since she was a little girl; her stories would have been written on her heart in a unique way.

On the eve of the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, this grand piece was once again was privy to stories, laughter, heart conversation, and comfort, as well as being the setting for the Sensual Table banquet. I held a dinner with women who are well read, well traveled, each on their own in life, and all shared a moment of beauty they remembered. The theme of this remembered beauty was to recount an event in this last month of the year, somewhere in their life, where their senses were brought fully engaged. One shared how as a child in Brazil they would go to the beach and scoop the watery greens, filling their arms and carrying them to the shore and when they were shaken hundreds of tiny shrimp would be released. The frying pan on the open fire was ready to fry this delectable catch and be eaten right away. I can see the sand on their feet, between their toes, hear the laughter, the shouts of who has the largest haul and smell the scent of the butter and garlic ready to bathe the shrimp briefly before they are consumed.

As I sat at the table with these guests I felt a fresh surge of energy which surprised me. This month has been a time of hibernating, of much candle light and of seeking and receiving redemption, new pictures being exchanged for painful old ones in my soul. The early morning routine has been one of slow awakening only when the light begins to break into the day. Candles have been lit and given the gentle invitation to simply linger quietly for a few moments – no reading, no writing – just sitting in the quiet low light of the morning. Evenings have seen me come home, light the candle in the kitchen window (which burns until I go to bed), light the multitude of tea lights, and listen to the soft sounds of the music from the 1400 – 1550’s, a daily routine. It is a season of traditions and I have been creating new ones of my own that hold significance and Holy Presence. It is the month of the least day light and we celebrate the coming of the Light of the World. Christmas is a time of celebration for many and yet for others it is the time of greatest loneliness, despair and isolation. I have been holding the latter in my heart in the morning, in the light of the flames.

Some of my own cup of sorrow has been in relationships that began or ended in this month, of a childhood where Christmas was forbidden. I waited in the soft candlelight, hibernating and seeking new pictures, new celebrations and the Light of Truth in these areas. Luke wrote that redemption was near:” stand up and hold your heads high; because you are about to be liberated!” (CJB). Not only is redemption or liberation here but my heart can say “I know that my Redeemer lives”.

My summation of the hibernation, of seeking Light and redemption in this time is:
Redemption is when the Light comes to the darkness of my soul, changes the picture, takes away fear, and lets me fall into the warmth and awe of Holy Presence.

Hibernation – awaking gently to life
Light – gentle light that is life giving
Redemption – new pictures whispered with infinite tenderness, that breathe life.

The Sensual Table Is Set

This blog has, and will continue to be a place to share about food, the sacredness of the table and how powerfully I feel the call of the need for senses to be awakened. In this place of nourishing our bodies (or at least that is what we are meant to do with food), conversation, communion and fellowship is to also nourish and stimulate the heart, the soul and mind.

The Fast Food industry has deadened our taste buds to the sensations food offers, it has decimated the idea of lingering at the table to converse, and the beauty of a mealtime has been lost in the isolation of the table. Is it just Fast Food? Not at all, but I do find that the Fast Food industry most clearly illustrates the extreme loss of all the holy sacred table was designed to be. The wounding of dysfunctional relationships pushes us apart so that dining together is not safe, rich, or anywhere near the holy experience Jesus modeled for us in this ordinary routine necessity in keeping us alive.

Much of my upbringing was regulated, rigid and legalistic. While the family table was always a safe place, guests meant that children and women were to be silent and not question or attempt to comment. Sensuality was considered “evil” and hence the message was that to be “approved” women must hide every evidence of their femininity. Firstly, sensuality is not related only to sexuality, but it is our senses are attuned, awake and aware of life around us. The feel of the wind, the sound of the birds, the scent of the ocean, flowers, or the burning pile, the feel of the sun, and the vision of the morning being born.

As my senses have come awake so has the awareness that this is how one can be fully present. Being fully present brings me to a place where I can be in Holy Presence and know how my senses take it in: how I hear, see, smell, feel, and taste the presence of the Almighty, of Jesus, of the Spirit. And so, blended with my passion for the culinary art, I have been exploring the Sacred Table as a place of Holy Obedience. In obedience I must create and prepare and invite others to the table, and there with the banquet of colours, tastes, textures, fragrances and others voices, the Sensual Table is a place the Spirit can nudge, coax or whisper to the guests…”come, explore, open your senses and restore life and vibrancy and passion to your soul”.

The journeying has been long. It is no longer just about preparing good food anymore – it is about purposefully preparing and setting the atmosphere and lighting, speaking of this sensual pathway, this pathway of Holy Obedience, and more than anything living in a state of gratitude and awe. The Sensual Table is now a reality! I am inviting friends to the table at Linwood House Ministries to sit at the table and see what the Spirit will bring to the banquet. Any funds raised are used to then go to downtown Vancouver and prepare the Sensual Table for the women we have become friends with, who struggle with addictions and prostitution. Two churches on this Coast have booked an evening of The Sensual Table for members of their congregation, which also involves verbally sharing what the vision for this new venture is all about.
There is such mystery to this calling of Culinary Ministry and the Sensual Table! But then isn’t love a mystery? Isn’t love what calls us to live vibrantly, passionately?

I find this a scary journey at times because it is a mystery! I have no idea where it is going, and at times I wonder if I have the creativity it will take. Yet when an idea starts to flow…wow it is exciting. I find I sit at the piano more to let unwritten notes flow. Ideas for different combinations of foods are coming and my recipe book has new ideas added all the time.

Through this time at the sacred table, the silence and shutting down of the past is not only being redeemed, it is coming to life in a way I had never imagined was possible, in a way that is “other centered sensuality” as Dan Allender says in his definition of living in "awe"

Ancient and New Rhythms

Musicians, writers, artists – each one had come to be creative, to let the artistry flow and to learn from each other. A friend has started her own Life Coaching business so she can specifically work with people who want to explore and live more deeply from their artists’ soul. The evening gathering was designed to let that creativity flow as the Spirit moved, hovered, whispered and beckoned.

The window of our soul is not the single pane of glass that is clear and defined by borders; rather the soul is like a stained glass window. Pieces, fragments, colour, materials to piece them together, woven with story, tears, pain, celebration and movement through each section.

Curled up on the soft sofa, my pen and journal were the etching medium for what flowed through my soul as 5 musicians created and released unwritten unrehearsed notes. Fragments and notes blended.

there is form
yet there are no lines
there is music
yet unwritten
words undefined
or articulated
a rhythm my body moves to
cannot remain still
in the presence of
i think of Africa
with this worship
this earthy rhythm
that vibrates the floor
urges my feet
my torso
to sway with
to connect
my body, head, and heart
with the rhythm of ancient paths
that call to my soul
that call out my soul
from form
into the mystery
of notes unheard, unwritten
blending, calling, urging
me to intimate sacred sensual space
to the call of One
Divine Desert Lover

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bles you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their
pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world.
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.
Source Unknown

Thanks Mike for passing this along at The Whatever.

There Are No Words

“There are no words” was written on the thank you note. Plenty of good deep authentic dialogue had happened over the weeks she was here, thoughts and ideas were exchanged and threads in the weaving of our work together were placed into the pattern. Yet in the end the card said it all…words could not say how beautifully God had done much work in the time together.

In another scene during that week, Abby (not her real name) lay in the emergency room bed, her limbs in constant motion, her blood pressure and heart rate way above normal as the 2 day binge of crack/cocaine showed its effects on her body, mind and soul. She was so sorry, she wanted to start over, wanted to rewind to the 3 days before when she had been clean for 3 years. Yet at the same time she wanted to go back to those who would sit and use with her. “I just want to be happy” she spoke over and over. What would happy look like? Would it simply be that the voices in her head, the years of abuse, the addiction that began at age 8, be silenced and all would be still and clear? Yes, she replied – that was what happiness would look like. I asked her what made her stay alive all the other times she came to after these binges, looking for clues as to what hope would look like for her. The truth she explained is that she really does want to die; she hates life and doesn’t want to keep living with the pain that will not die.

I had no words. What can I say to that when I know the feeling? I know what brought me back to life but that was my whisper from God, and I had no words for what God alone could whisper to her. I could only stand silent, be present, hold her hand and trust that the Spirit could speak in that silence. Presence was all one could offer in the place where “there are no words.”

Being present is the greatest gift I have known in experiencing Holy Presence. The tangible sense that the Spirit is present within me, Jesus is present in the room and Abba is there as well, and They do not use words. But They are the Word – the Word that became flesh, the Word of true vibrant passionate LIFE.

In sharing this experience with a good friend, she said that when there are no words it is because only The Word, will do: that tangible presence of the Almighty who gives Light, the breath and the bread of life!

In sitting with this experience it is hard to write of it simply because words do not begin to reveal the depth, the height, the breadth and length of Their Presence.

…words are not enough.

Morning Breaths

Now, my God, please, let your eyes be open, and let your ears pay attention to the prayer being made in this place. 2 Chronicles 6:40 CJB

'The Weakest in the Center

The most honored parts of the body are not the head or the hands, which lead and control. The most important parts are the least presentable parts. That's the mystery of the Church. As a people called out of oppression to freedom, we must recognize that it is the weakest among us - the elderly, the small children, the handicapped, the mentally ill, the hungry and sick - who form the real center. Paul says, "It is the parts of the body which we consider least dignified, that we surround with the greatest dignity" (1 Corinthians 12:23).

The Church as the people of God can truly embody of the living Christ among us only when the poor remain its most treasured part. Care for the poor, therefore, is much more than Christian charity. It is the essence of being the body of Christ.'
Henri Nouwen Daily Meditation October 30

Grace and shalom be yours in full measure
1 Peter 1:2b CJB

It is not about explanations today, but about soaking in the Truth and letting that become the breath of worship today.

Seaons, Changes

With the changes of natures' own seasons the human body seems to have adjustments that go along with spring, summer, autumn and winter: cyclical changes in our body, mind and soul.

The "season" of writing seems slow for me. Almost a time to hibernate, my soul wants to nest in at home in my little sanctuary, I read much, hold it within, and let it wait within. It is a time of quiet, of gathering articles for a project, of letting my soul, mind, body and heart accept the invitation to be in this space and know the sacredness of it. Within the solitude is also the intentional working out of community where I am and learning to live out this through the ups and downs.

Snuggling in, hibernation - also a time of intimacy, which for me at present is a pursuit of obedience and holiness. What does it feel like, look like, smell like....how to my senses become more deeply attuned to this invitation from the Divine? How can I absorb Jesus so I can live this out? Embracing holiness and obedience and knowing that the pain is part of how the Spirit infuses it into my soul causes me to sit with heart, eyes, ears and hands open and watching.

In this time of absorbing I read an interesting article in Turn My Mourning Into Dancing" by Henri Nouwen.
"As you enter into intimate communion with God, you enter into intimate communion with the people of God. Prayer is communion with God in the privacy of our own places. It is also communion with the people of God around the world and through the centuries. Such love overcomes the fear that separates us. Such love allows us to let go of our little fears.

This may seem difficult, but such love, as it works in us, ultimately offers us a way out of self-righteousness and oppression. It rescues us from the illusion that makes the rich think they know what is best for the poor, men think they know what is best for women, or whites think they know what is best for blacks. It saves us from the illusion of power that leads us to Auschwitz, Hiroshima, or Jonestown."

Mealtime Isolation or Invitation?

For a year I ate a vegan diet - one with no dairy products, no animal products, and as little processed food as possible. While I no longer stick to that way of eating there were several things I learned of great importance:
- The regular eating habits of the most of the Western World are appallingly damaging and we choose to remain ignorant to the way we abuse our bodies and minds this way.
- When one eats a "special diet" it also become socially isolating.
- How powerfully the table is meant to bring equality and comfort and signify sacredness thereby levelling what could isolate and separate us. It is a place to come with our differences and specific needs so they can be honored and celebrated.

In a recent conversation I heard of someone who has, for health reasons, had to go on a very restricted diet. Not only have they felt socially isolated because no one knows what to create to make them feel comfortable and allow them to participate at the sacred table, but no one around them feels able to help them.

So this morning I am sitting here wondering how many people would love to have some ideas to create sensual savoury meals with the foods that are healthy for them? I have offered to create dishes for them and realize this is challenge I love - creating beauty where it seemingly is barren. Allowing the sensuousness and colour and texture of the feast to be restored to those whose heart is in pain. To allow them to be drawn again to the healing of the table - returning from the isolation they experience.

Just one more way I see that the "sensual table" is the place of healing.

Uniqueness as a Part of Soul Restoration

The soul, the essence of each person, holds who we are. Yet the soul is also the place of deep and lasting wounding, the inner most place that seems to heal slowest and be most sensitive to confusion.

In a recent discussion, concerning some confusion and chaos surrounding us, it was clear that many of us feel as if our soul is getting lost. The essence of who we really are is becoming clouded which plays out in ways that are difficult to understand and deal with. One ends up feeling crappy most of the time! Energy is stolen from the heart for giving and instead being horded in the inner cave of survival. Dignity is robbed from our soul and is often replaced with contempt. Not the place I want to live from, yet a place my soul goes when threatened and refusing to surrender to the thief.

Henri Nouwen writes about “guarding our souls”: The great danger of the turmoil of the end-time in which we live is losing our souls. Losing our souls means losing touch with our centre, our true call in life, our mission, our spiritual task. Losing our soul means becoming so distracted by and preoccupied with all that is happening around us that we end up fragmented, confused, and erratic.”

What I find fascinating is the dichotomy of this statement. When the soul is guarded and protected, the surrounding rush of life seems to draw me to a place of life, of alertness, of finding the mystery and wonder that is held, seen, and participated in. Yet when one is pulled in many directions and seems to be fragmented, then that rush of life seems to have an implosive effect – falling apart from the inside out.

“The pressures of religious conformity and political correctness in our culture bring us face-to-face with what Johannes Metz called the ‘poverty of uniqueness’, writes Brennan Manning. He states that the ‘poverty of uniqueness’ is “the call of Jesus to stand utterly alone when the only alternative is to cut a deal at the price of one’s integrity. It is a lonely yes to the whispers of our true self, a clinging to our core identity when companionship and community support are withheld.” (pg 136 Abba’s Child)

This lost and found see-saw our souls seem to oscillate on is surely not the way we were designed to live and yet somehow we have learned to adapt to this unnatural way of life.

Metz’s quote is percolating inside me – what a tragedy that our uniqueness becomes lost in conformity rather than found and celebrated from the inside out.

What's For Dinner?

You know those dilemmas when you are driving home, you are really hungry, you know what you want to eat but either it isn’t in your pantry, fridge or freezer or you just want to sit, order and be served. Last night was one of those dilemmas on my drive home. I had been working outside for the last three days at work – the kitchen is being renovated and it is mass chaos so I chose to convey the bark mulch from the front of the property to the back. Hence my hunger as I drove home last night – really wanting to have a steak!

This coastal community has few good places to eat and a good steak is impossible to find – it is just as easy to cook one at home. So here is a quick and easy, tasty meat and potatoes meal:

1 rib steak
2 Yukon gold potatoes
Organic spinach and cherry tomatoes

The potatoes are boiled with sliced garlic and make sure lots of salt is in your water. Leaving the skin on is just fine. When soft and tender and drained add in 1 tbsp of butter and 1 tbsp of blue cheese and mash everything together. Great tangy rich mashed potatoes!

Rub both sides of the steak with sea salt, white pepper and oregano. Melt a touch of butter and olive oil in a cast iron skillet till very hot. Heat your oven to 350.00. Seer the steak until really golden and sealed then flip over and coat the cooked side with grainy Dijon mustard. Seer the other side and then place in the oven for 10 minutes. This will be medium rare.

Toss your fresh spinach and halved cherry tomatoes, toss with olive oil and balsamic and add crumbled blue cheese and white pepper.

This meal is ready in 30 minutes. And the atmosphere is home, music is your own, and settling into an easy chair with a good back after eating is bliss!

Epicurean Quotes

"We may live without poetry, music and art;
we may live without conscience and live without heart;
We may live without friends; we may live without books;
But civilized man cannot live without cooks."
Owen Meredith

"I detest minginess, cheating on quality...anything over-cooked, over-herbed, over-sauced, over elaborate. Nothing can go very far wrong at the table as long as there is honest bread, butter, olive oil, a generous spirit, lively appetites and attention to what we are eating."
Sybille Bedford

Blessed Are the Hungry

This following article speaks for itself.

Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied.
Jesus (Luke 6: 20B-21A)

“Jesus knew the pain of hunger and the healing possibilities in meals. Therefore, Jesus not only preached, taught, and healed; he also fed, saying, ‘I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst.’ He promised his disciples at the opening of his ministry that he would confront the hunger of the world.

Some people have mistakenly inferred that Matthew has somehow spiritualized the beatitudes with the additions of ‘poor in spirit’ and ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness’. This interpretation fails to do justice either to Jewish concepts of the person or to the nature of poverty and hunger. No first-century Jew would understand our division of body and spirit. A person’s body and person’s soul are part of a unified personality. What affects the body affects the soul and vice versa. We know this from our own experience. To be hungry in your stomach is to hunger in one’s spirit. To be poor is not simply an abstracted condition of the heart or the head but is a condition which affects one’s total well-being. Chronic poverty is known to have a wide array of detrimental emotional consequences.

Thus, it would be a perversion of this passage to argue (as, alas, the church has sometimes argued) that it was not real hunger or actual material poverty to which Jesus was speaking, but rather some inner, ethereal, or spiritual condition. It is just this spiritualized attitude which makes our worship an escape from God’s will rather than a confrontation with God’s will.

Nicolas Berdyaev, the Russian theologian, once said that to consider our own bread is a materialistic question; however, our neighbours’ bread is a spiritual question. How tragic it is that for many people the word spiritual has come to mean ‘not real’!

The words, ‘Blessed are the hungry,’ were spoken to a people for who poverty was a pervasive reality. Famine and the accompanying slow, agonizing death by starvation were ever-present possibilities. These words were heard by people, who knew that while humanity ‘does not live by bread alone’, we do not live without bread either.

And it was to this poverty of body and soul, this hunger of extruding bellies and skin-and-bones deprivation that Jesus’ words thundered forth, “Blessed are the poor…Blessed are the hungry…”.

In the time it takes for you to read these words, somewhere in the world, someone has closed his or her eyes and died of hunger.

From Sunday Dinner, by William Willimon, (Pg 60-63)

Simplicity and Beauty Flavours

The sacredness of mealtimes, the table spread with abundance, issuing an invitation to commune together is the canvas upon which my creations and my passion for the epicurean can be placed. Jesus used this venue to demonstrate social justice – there was no one who he would not welcome there. Even those who betrayed him sat at table with him and received communion.

In the book Sunday Dinner, William Willimon writes “Because of the sacredness of meals, our ancestors in the faith saw meals and food as appropriate ways of being with God, as a means of celebrating the mystery of God’s presence.” (pg 15) Being with God and celebrating mystery are very appropriate ways to describe this tradition of meal times.

In my recent time spent in Old Montreal, some of my meals were eaten solo. The celebration of the mystery of God’s presence and being with God so accurately describes my dining experiences. “The Practice of the Presence of God”, words by Brother Lawrence, kept running through my mind.

The traffic hummed along Rue Notre Dame in the midday heat and humidity, while I walked at a slow pace taking in the sun, the diversity of languages and the beauty of the old part of this lively city. An alcove on my left drew my attention, and through the archway the sun highlighted a most peaceful and colourful little courtyard restaurant. If you are ever in Montreal try ASZU Bistro for a meal. Never have I experienced from a culinary aspect, and been surrounded by staff, that held such a sense of honor in guarding and inviting one to this place of tranquility, of colour, and rich foliage that whispered in the breeze! The elegance emerged from simplicity, natural light and greenery, and a sense of exclusion from the outside world. Staff moved quietly, with ease, with a sense of reverence for this oasis of tranquility that was entered into through a narrow stone archway with no fanfare. Perhaps the fragrance of tranquility was what drew me to stop for lunch. Or was it the contrast of hot summer breezes with the ice cold water and a simple slice of lemon floating in it and the mystery of beauty, nature, water, wind and foliage that invited me yet again to celebrate being with God, and yet knowing the mystery of the sacred table calls me to ask for more? The invitation to beauty was another ingredient in the potpourri of what created sacred space at the table.

It is not one isolated event, experience or vista but rather I find my soul seeking to “practice the presence of God” as I experience and let my senses inhale the details of this sacred mysterious place known as the table. This ancient tradition of the meal table invites us to wholeness, to sensuality, to community and to the practice of social justice. I find both the masculine and the feminine face of God in this sacred place of communion, beauty and simplicity.

Summer Evenings

Summer time and lingering; these words come to mind, and to a posting yet again. The sense of lingering in community, in sacred space, in solitude, or round the table with laughter, tears and safety has been a rich gift I have received, and held this season. The gift of each experience has been entwined with the whispering of the Spirit that this is how one is meant to live. The tenderness of passion, not the rush of wants and needs, but instead the tenderness that speaks the truth of living and loving well with integrity, honesty and honor. Like the bouquet of fine wine, your senses know it and nudge you to savour it each time you raise that long stemmed clear glass is brought to your lips.

Lingering has been a blend of solitude and of spending time with those I have rich and deep friendships with, and that has seasoned this summer with beautiful surprising flavours. 

From Montreal

During my week here in Montreal I am more and more convinced that it isn`t as a tourist I want to experience this world, but rather as someone who blends into everyday life with others in their world. For so long I have been an observer in life and I wonder how this draws me to being a deeper participant in any location.

Each morning at my hotel the guests gather for breakfast , a wonderful European style buffert to choose from. It is a large wooden table where 8 people sit, many are strangers. I observe how couples stay silent, a mother and her son have nothing to say to each other, and as I sit and hold this sacred space in the Light I realize how for Jesus mealtimes were often with those he didn`t know. I cannot imagine it being a time of silence. We are so afraid of what we don`t know and so we stay silent. I am waiting with the question of how does sacred space come to the table in this place, and realize how I am being asked to bring it within me wherever I go. It must be with me in my own questioning, my sitting in silence, my laughter with friends and in a quirky hotel in Old Montreal.

Out on the Front Porch

Sitting on a front porch holds wonderful summertime memories for me and holds such romantic invitations.

As a child I loved the sounds of cicadas, and the sunlight filtering through the bamboo blinds, and Velveeta cheese on fresh made bread on Grandmas’ front verandah. The grand stately old home I lived in from age 11-14 sat high on a hill overlooking the small town I grew up in – it had a wonderful full width front porch with an old fashioned glider sofa. The plump turquoise cushions surrounded my body as lay there on summer days devouring books on history or nursing. I used to dream of being kissed on that front porch swing! And it was the perfect place to watch a wild summer lightening storm.

The other day I was chatting with a friend who was swinging on her front porch. One day I will own a house with a wonderful front porch or perhaps a lovely porch off of the main bedroom. It is a place to hear the world yet to close your eyes and linger, listening in a different way to the heartbeat of your environment.

These chairs on the front porch where I work make me think of Africa, to hear the sounds of cicadas from childhood and at the same time to smell the roses that are so abundant in the garden that surrounds the Linwood House front porch.

Funny – this summer seems to be all about lingering, and the invitations that the Spirit continues to whisper in this season. God must so enjoy his front porch view too, just lingering and waiting, whispering invitations. 

Invitations

It never changes - the morning sunrise is always, always, an inviation to come and linger. Morning constantly invites me to linger and I hate the days where I must rush out without doing that. This particular morning, I sought out the sunrise and this was my answer. 

Woundedness and Worship

What we do in our ministry revolves completely around sacred space, invitations to experience extravagant love and grace, and walking the uncharted road to healing with the broken. It gives purpose and redemption to our own brokenness when we walk with others.

These last 3 days the daily devotions from Henri Nouwen's site have very succinctly given a picture of Jesus view of woundedness.

The Wounded Healer
"Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not "How can we hide our wounds?" so we don't have to be embarrassed, but "How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?" When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.

Jesus is God's wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus' suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others."

Tending Our Own Wounds First
"Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.

When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters."

Listening With Our Wounds
"To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing."

This morning I was re-reading Parker Palmer's thoughts on the "Circle of Trust" and how essential being present is. Nouwen's thought reinforce this truth of being present, staying present, in our own journey enough to be present with others' in theirs. In my early morning walk along the beach I find that being present brings my senses alive to the life that exists in the morning with the sea exhaling on the shore, the eagles watching from their perch, tall grass that sways and whispers in the breeze and a plethora of tiny birds that are filled with energy and song. What I realized this morning was that the Wounded Healer was so very present, and in that Holy Moment my soul was soaring in worship, while my feet kept a steady pace along the path. Being present was full with energy, with solace and with healing.

Embracing Moments of Surprise

Yesterday, Sunday, was an unexpected day of freedom (I usually work weekends). I am one of those introverted people that loves people but needs solitude to refuel, and I badly needed a topping up sort of day.

Whether you are single, like me, or married, we all need regular days of solitude and I call them my “date” days – just the Almighty and I spending time together to talk, to rest, to be surprised, to laugh, and to bask in Love, the only Love that allows me to feel completely whole and content. Yesterday was “date” Sunday, Sabbath and Solitude all in a glorious package of sunshine, shalom, restorative silence and a special meal out. It may have looked like I was sitting alone at my table in the sunshine at Horseshoe Bay, looking up at the mountains, writing, and reading – but I was not. My unseen “date” was Yeshua – the one I am growing to love more deeply, to become more intimate and honest with, and the one who created the whole scene on the restaurant deck, and offered me an invitation to accompany him. Being bathed in sunshine, the wind whispering against my skin, the serenade of winged life,and the inhaling and exhaling of the sea, held a love that imprints itself on my soul and brings life.

Several weeks ago I rushed in late to an appointment and the only parking spot was on the far edge in tall grass. When I returned to my car the still wet grass tickled my brightly painted bare toes and swished against the hem of my full red skirt. I stopped, inhaled, held my breath and slowly wiggled my toes, swayed my hips and began to laugh! There was no visible stop sign but indeed there was “Surprise” whispered in the morning sunshine that dared me to stop and be fully present in this moment of childlike delight and wonder. Its taste still lingers in my mind.

Driving through the Rockies recently and hurrying to make it through to Vancouver in order to catch the last ferry up the coast, my friend and I were making excellent time. This is the season for rock slides along the Trans Canada Highway and sure enough one had just happened – stopping all traffic for 4 hours. My friend was anxious to be home and she was restless and annoyed at this delay, while I could only begin to laugh! My trunk always has two folding arm chairs, there was plenty of bottled water and fruit in the cooler and the most glorious view to sit back and enjoy. Above the roar of the refrigeration trailers I could hear the varied songs of birds, the crashing of water that had changed from the ice it was high above and become cold clear running water splashing down the rock face. Again nature had conspired to stop the rush and open my senses to what I could only enjoy by being still. Our supper was indeed sacred communion - we enjoyed whole wheat crackers, cream cheese and red current jelly!

I find myself wanting to be surprised more often and my heart opening more readily to completely embracing these moments of Divine etching on my soul.

Holding the Power - Part 2

I continue to ponder the question addressed to me: “why do you surrender your power when you do not feel safe?”. Some of us surrender it, others take the power when they are not feeling safe and a power struggle ensues.

What I have realized in pondering this question, and trying to personally answer it, is that when one surrenders power and feels unsafe, we immediately assume the posture of the victim. This posture is reflected in our thinking, our body language, and our ability to choose, or rather not to choose. We relinquish our dignity when we do this I think. A downward spiral can occur, at least for me it can, unless I recognize it and take back my sense of dignity, and honor.

When we hold our power, again from my perspective, it doesn’t become who holds the power but rather an equality of power. This posturing allows me to honor the others, to honor myself and to choose not to take the role of the victim. Please don’t get me wrong – the victim is the recipient of huge abuse so often and to change this takes enormous courage and support, and the choice to take back their own power and begin the process of healing. I have lived out that role in my life and what I have realized is that I allowed myself to be "less than" by others actions, words, or religious traditions...and I believed it! To come to the place where one says "I am NOT less than", it seems to me, is the place to begin moving out of the place of being a victim and of taking back your power. There isn't usually a big news flash to the heart, mind and body of who you really are, but there is the knowledge that being lower or less than is not the true definition of myself and the road to truth begins. This seems too simplistic when in fact it is so mulitlayered within the soul, but it is a key to moving through those layers I think.

I am working on a writing project that needs to be written, in part, through the eyes of Martha and her culinary ministry. She was a woman of passion and openness, of energy and intelligence, who welcomed and created a sacred space of comfort and warmth for visitors to their home. Her conversations with Jesus, direct and honest, show that she moved outside tradition, followed her heart and also had a very comfortable relationship with Jesus because she addressed him in the manner of a trusted friend. But what happened when Mary was breaking tradition and sitting with Jesus and the other men listening and Martha was in the kitchen creating? I am wondering if she wanted to participate and listen but also wanted to create a great meal for them all. She did something I have done many times in the past - instead of being direct and saying "why don't you come in the kitchen, all of you, so I can join in, Martha instead stepped into the victim role, surrendered her power, and became the martyr. Instead of telling Jesus directly what she really wanted, and kept her power, she surrendered it and tried to make him responsible for her thoughts and actions. Martha thought of herself as less than in that place. In discussing this with my friend, she suggested that perhaps Jesus reply to her which seems almost trite, wasn't to say Mary was better but instead he was saying to her "Martha you are so talented and passionate, and I love that you live out your Divine calling, the beautiful vibrant woman you are, but at this minute you are trying to convince me that you have a raw deal and we both know that isn't the truth. You and I both know you haven't asked the real question and I want to hear you ask me that. Tell me your heart from your true identity - the place you really live in."

These are the thoughts that have been percolating on this question, and the ensuing discussions and your post responses.

Quote du Jour

"Living out of the false self creates a compulsive deire to present a perfect image to the public so that everybody will admire us and nobody will know us."
Brennan Manning
The Rabbi's Heartbeat

Holding the Power

Yesterday I was asked the question "do you give away your power when you don't feel safe?" This question startled me with the truth that I do.

Abusers hold the power but what is it in the abused that at a core soul level is unable to hold the power that is theirs?

Just a question I am looking for the answers on within my own soul. I need to know the answer.

What Can I Prepare You - Revisited

Last fall this piece What Can I Prepare for You brought out pieces of story and created good discussion which moved us into sacred space as we looked at it. At least I felt the sacredness of the responses to the question.

Some time ago I began working on a cookbook, compiling a few recipes, outlining ideas for the theme of it and then the project became too tedious and I set it aside. There was disappointment for me because somehow by doing nothing I felt guilt and loss.

Earlier this year I slipped into a depression and felt overwhelmed and totally drained of energy for life and for the first time in my life actually admitted that was where I was and asked for medical help. Yet at no time have I felt God being absent – in fact I often hear the Spirit remind me that this is a place to embrace, to face, not to walk around or away from, but look it in the face and embrace it. That takes energy, which is not in abundant supply for me at present. So I began asking myself the question “what food could be prepared and served to you that would reflect how you feel?” The answer is unquestionably slow cooked food and dishes that require using my hands to eat. Why? What does that satisfy, or pacify inside of me?

Fast food is often eaten with our hands yet it lacks nutrition and doesn’t beckon us to the sacred place of lingering at table. In fact the only sense really involved in fast food is touch – what is that about? We just eat and run. Like a peck on the cheek from someone who is pretending to love you!

Slowly cooked food demands preparation and time in order to give you the most savoury gifts it holds. In my two summers lingering on the Amalfi Coast, my friend Anna-Maria would get squid at 8AM when the fisherman pulled his boat ashore, clean it, cut it and along with garlic and lemon, simmer it all morning in tomato sauce. Under the shade of the bougainvilleas, with the serenading of the cicadas, we feasted on spaghetti with this exquisite sauce, mopping up the leftover liquid with freshly purchased baguette.

Last weekend I was preparing dinner for 26 people who had arrived for weekend of art, music, sculpting and writing. They were exploring creative gifts so I decided to create something new and unusual for dinner. Pork shoulder was on sale at the market for an excellent price: cheaper meat that I believed could have a most delicious taste if basted and cooked slowly so flavours mingled, tenderized and tantalized us as it cooked. The meat was brushed with Dijon mustard, honey and garlic, sprinkled with salt and white pepper and placed in the roaster. Fresh thyme and rosemary from the garden was liberally placed on top of the meat. A small amount of chicken broth and sherry were added before it was covered and placed in the oven at 175 degrees. After cooking for 24 hours, and sending the most tantalizing aroma through the house, it was sliced and served with blackberry sauce. The sauce was a combination of berries in a syrup, sherry, and cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg and lemon juice. Slowly, very slowly cooked meat that became succulent and tender, and a berry sauce that held spices with a suggestion of wild, exotic mystery.

This meal has brought several metaphorical pictures to where I am, how it must be embraced and given me some new thoughts on the “cookbook”. A wise woman said that when we are in a place of needing to store energy we often crave food cooked slowly. I cannot rush this part of my life – it deserves to be honored by embracing it. Moments of sweetness, like this exotic sauce, invite me to continue exploring the mystery while giving myself permission to enjoy their surprising presence.

I have not yet defined why food that I can eat with my hands is important. Although often in places of depression our senses will shut down. We withdraw and shut ourselves/our heart off from touch and in some way this reminds me to be intentional in my awareness of how every sense is responding in this particular place.

The cookbook piece of this particular journey clearly shows that in order to combine others stories with recipes, it must begin with my own story. I am working at the connection of what foods I am asking for, what the ingredients of sacred and how I can step more deeply into culinary ministry. Maybe, as my friend Angie said, it is time to embrace the marinating process! I would really like to ask the Maestro what is cooking though!!

HIV in Russia

Russia has an exponentially growing epidemic of HIV/AIDS. As in Africa, the diagnosis leaves one a social outcast. Women are denied medical attention if they are HIV positive when Doctors simply reject them.

Now there is a whole generation growing up the mirrors the orphanages of Romania that we have heard so much about. Children who remain in one room most of their lives and some never even experience the outdoors. They are the rejected and abandoned children of HIV/AIDS mothers that Russia still cannot embrace or offer affection to. The following link from the BBC News on Russia's abandoned children is heartbreaking.

Fear makes is so difficult for us to love.

More Gender Question Considerations

In my previous article “Weight and Gender” I had wanted to write from an honest perspective that was not weighted with contempt. There are so many questions on this journey, many that will probably take a lifetime of searching. One of those is the huge issue of patriarchy and gender within the Church that both women and men have been deeply affected by. Wounds run deep, theological views are entrenched and yet if my heart is open I can learn from the differences. Yet that wounding also leaves scars that carry contempt, disappointment, disillusion and silence.

In some reading this week I have come across a number of quotes by Paul Smith that have held a powerful impact for me:

The war on women is not a war of men against women. We naively assume that this war has been declared by and caused by men. That’s the big lie! This war is being fought against both sexes, against all of us. Men are not the author of this war, Satan is. This cause of the war on women is Satan, who uses the fallen powers and principalities of this world to keep us in oppressive traditions and structures. Jesus has taught us to know that the enemy is always the Enemy! Pg 106/107

Both man and woman participated in the Fall. Adam and Eve were both responsible (Gen 3:6; Rom 5:15-21; 1 Cor 15:21-22). A direct result of the Fall, gender mutuality was disrupted and woman became dependent on man and man became an authority over women. Sin, not God, destroyed the partnership between man and woman. Patriarchy is worshipping the curse. Pg 109

Calling Patriarchy God’s will is like calling pornography God’s will. The analogy between patriarchy and pornography is quite fitting because the two are very similar in their effects. Pornography objectifies persons by turning them into property to be owned, demeans the feminine, trivializes sexuality, and perpetuates violence toward women. This is precisely what patriarchy does. Patriarchy treats women as objects, demeans and trivializes them, and provides a subtle theological framework for the right to abuse women. Calling patriarchy God’s will is theological pornography! pg 114

All quotes from Is it Okay to Call God Mother? Considering the Feminine Face of God
By Paul R. Smith

How does the church begin to change? How do I begin to change? How do I influence others around me? All I know right now is that I want change, I want to be an agent of change and only waiting in Holy Presence, continuing to ask and listen and be willing to sit in that tension zone, can I find truth as I sift through it all.

Weight and Gender

The new Dove campaign is powerful and something to be applauded – an advertising campaign specifically targeted at suggesting women are beautiful as they are. I love the add. For many years I have so hated my own size and body shape. And many women, no matter their spiritual outlook, have wrestled for much of their life with this question of am I too fat or too thin? I laugh every time I see the Jenny Craig commercial with Kirsty Alley and I wonder if I too should be on a diet. Do I need to diet? What about healthier eating? What does my heart really ask for by wanting to be thinner, or more shapely? And where does the question really come from?

Obviously this is a subject that is being discussed at great length these days. And depending on the culture you dwell in, your perspective will be different.

I picked up a book my friend was reading that was written in 1989. It is called Trusting Ourselves (The Sourcebook on Psychology for Women), and while it is 17 years old, the following article on weight has merit.

"How have contemporary American women become so obsessed with controlling their weight? Current efforts to “make women smaller” may be a backlash against the women’s movement. Some theorists have even suggested that the mass semi-starvation of women is the modern equivalent of ‘foot-binding, lip-stretching, and other forms of female mutilation’.
But body size and shape are not altered as easily as hemlines. Asking women to adjust, rearrange, and accommodate to a new standard of attractiveness every decade or so ties up energy and time that could go elsewhere.
The fear of fat robs women of self-esteem and pride, keeps them preoccupied with their appearance, and, perhaps most disturbingly, keeps them from taking up ‘too much space in the world. It is OK for a man to be big. A man has to actually be fat to suffer from fatness. A woman only has to be a woman." Pg 369

Yet reading this through several times today I have realized this is connected more deeply to hierarchical and patriarchal thinking that has deeply scarred men and women – the need to control others in order to gain power over them.

The Dove campaign came after the mostly male executive were shown interviews with their own daughters who really hated how they looked and suffered from low self-esteem. Only then could they be sold on the fact that this campaign was essential.

How much have we women been told, or silently heard loud and clear, that our weight or body shape was not desirable to men. I am sure there are men on the other side who have felt they were not desirable to women either – I am not ignoring that side of the equation. But what I really see here is that the message to be thin and attractive is not about being who you are but about trying to become someone that will attractive to the opposite sex. Then how your life can be molded by them or for them. And the message is just as clear in the church as out of it!

For me this issue of weight has many facets to it but one of them is that it is definitely tied to the gender issue, of controlling how we are to look or act, instead of learning to love ourselves as Jesus specifically asked us to and become those who love our neighbour because of that.

I would love to hear what others think of this thought.

Ponderings on Loving Your Neighbour

Writing doesn’t come easily these days – the motivation to do so seems to have receded to somewhere that I cannot define. Reading doesn’t come so easily either but one feels it is essential to continue to think, to journal, to dialogue and to be in this space and embrace it to find all it holds. It is a space of tilling soil, removing the dead growth and discovering what life holds beneath what is visible.

Archeological digs held great fascination for me when I was a child – reading of them, researching, and digging into history to find its secrets. And perhaps the current “dig” is into the Word where I feel as if I must go slowly, let the breath of the Almighty sweep away the dust and layers of silt (and religious rhetoric) that have covered it, to find the true value, meaning and wonder of what these ancient words tell about the life of Jesus and breathe into life for me now.

Over the past few months I have been pondering how to love oneself in the way that is holy obedience and fits with what Jesus modeled. There have been several previous posts on this subject. Dallas Willard, in his book Renovation of the Heart, speaks of self denial but not self rejection. Henry Nouwen speaks of befriending yourself and claiming the sacredness of our being. There are many other writings eluding to this subject.

Jesus has a conversation with a religion scholar who wants to know how one gets eternal life. “That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence – and that you love your neighbour as well as you do yourself.” Jesus reply to this answer from the scholar is “Do it and you’ll live”. The question is how do I get eternal life and the answer involves loving God with all I am and do, and loving myself well and loving my neighbour well. Just doing that, according to Jesus, means I will live now and have eternal life, or perhaps the eternal life starts here and now.

So why then have so many of us in the church rejected who we are? I don’t know about you but I have begun to see that it is tied to loving my neighbour. My childhood was spent in a very legalistic hierarchical gathering where God was/and is, seen as the judge rather than the God of grace. We were never allowed to speak to, eat with, or mingle in any way with our neighbours (only with those of the limited circle of fellowship). I felt like a freak most of my life and self rejection has been a huge battle – although it was said to be self denial. In pondering Jesus words I see that we need true community to learn to love ourselves, and we need to love ourselves to give freely and abundantly to community, to neighbours, to those we meet anywhere and anytime in our life. Loving ourselves with honesty and open hearts would then allow us to be Light, and remove fear of the dark.

If we loved and valued our life as Jesus asked us to, would we not value the dignity and life of another? If we valued community as Jesus suggests we would not learn more humility as well as compassion, tenderness and grace? If we obeyed Jesus instructions would we not choose to passionately embrace life and find not only we live but we love differently?

Perhaps this sounds rather theoretical and I admit it is a theory I am pondering. Yet loving God will all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence can be theory if one doesn’t blend it with loving your neighbour as well as you love yourself. Loving yourself can’t be theory if it is truly love – because love is an action if it is really love.

Dusting off these ancients words reveals, for me, a question, an answer and a call to action to get the life my soul and heart and mind long for.

Ruthless Trust

Ruthless trust inspires us to thank God for the spiritual darkness that envelops us, for the loss of income, for the nagging arthritis that is so painful, and to pray from the heart,"Abba, in your hands I entrust my body, mind and spirit and this entire day...Whatever you want of me, I want of me, falling into you and trusting you in the midst of my life. Into your heart, I entrust my heart, feeble, distracted, insecure, uncertain. Abba, unto you I abandon myself."

Timothy P Jones
Praying Like a Jew, Jesus

Quote de Jour

This quote from Anne Lamott's writings came in an email from a friend. It is so rich and beautiful.

Anne Lamott, in Plan B,.. Further Thoughts about Faith shares this:
There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.”

Claiming the Sacredness of our Being

Good words from Henri Nouwen

Are we friends with ourselves? Do we love who we are? These are important questions because we cannot develop good friendships with others unless we have befriended ourselves.

How then do we befriend ourselves? We have to start by acknowledging the truth of ourselves. We are beautiful but also limited, rich but also poor, generous but also worried about our security. Yet beyond all that we are people with souls, sparks of the divine. To acknowledge the truth of ourselves is to claim the sacredness of our being, without fully understanding it. Our deepest being escapes our own mental or emotional grasp. But when we trust that our souls are embraced by a loving God, we can befriend ourselves and reach out to others in loving relationships.

The words from Jesus are "love your neighbour as well as you love yourself."

As a good friend said to me recently "if you cannot love yourself then you kill the life within and this is your sin." How much do we kill the sacred life that is ours by not loving, and befriending ourselves, as Jesus asked us to? It seems to me that as I love myself then I am also learning to live in obedience to the life the Spirit holds within me, letting Light be exchanged for darkness within. I cannot say I do live this way, but I am wanting to, learning to, letting the work be done, so that I will live more this way.

The Scent of Life

Spiritual Direction time begins with lighting a candle to be reminded of the Light that is always present in the darkness, and then a time of silence. In my most recent visit there were not pictures but rather a blank page in my vision. Susan invited me to sit with that and be in a place where I felt total peace and safety and see how Jesus would come and sit with me there.

I saw myself in the completed garden of mia sogno – la casa in Italia. The ruined property in Italia that my heart sees restored and useful and alive with pouring life into those who come to stay. The whisper that surprised me, as I sat with my eyes closed and waited was the fragrance: lemons, oranges, and fresh produce. At last I can identify the fragrance of life – in the scent of what grows and what nourishes, what blends and can be created into something exotic and wonderful! This was very exciting. And why should I be surprised that it was a scent that relates to my passion for creating in the kitchen.

God knows that my heart and mind can always hear, and remember, when I am shown colour or scent. Why is it that scent is the most powerful memory trigger we have?

Cinnamon buns baking in the oven in the early morning draw sleepy guests into the kitchen to investigate. Sautéing onions mid morning, as part of a lunch dish, will draw them in a coffee break to inquire what is happening. Surely it reminds them of someplace in time.

In the last few weeks I have had a desire for food that is cooked slowly, bringing fragrance through the house so that you are tantalized by it all day. I picked up the ingredients for this dish, refrigerated them overnight so that I could begin first thing in the morning.

The finely chopped bacon, diced carrots and onions simmered together then were set aside. Their blend now floated through the house. The lamb shoulder chops were seasoned with salt and pepper, thyme and Dijon mustard adding their scent. The bacon, carrots and onions, as well as chopped turnip, joined the meat in the pan, and then all was covered with red wine and simmered to reduce it. Oxtail soup and fresh lemon juice, and then potato wedges were the final ingredients before the lid went on the pan so it could simmer slowly for several hours. This scent tantalized me all day long until in the evening, by the fireside, four of us sat with our steaming bowls of slowly simmered comfort food.

Perhaps that is part of it – the scent of food cooking is comfort, and the invitation it offers us to come and be satisfied. When are senses are involved we can engage in living. Shutting down our senses can then be a way we disconnect from being alive. But it seems to me that fragrance brings our other senses into action and we find colour, sound, taste and experience how to feel more richly.

Fragrance is still as strong in the gentle breezes of the night: orange blossoms or jasmine that comes when all is still, the dew or the salt of the sea, even the rain has a fragrance. Our senses are just as alive in the night as in the day, and as I actively wait in this place of “night” at present I find myself becoming much attuned to these things that make us sensual beings that “feel” what we are surrounded by, day or night.

If this is the fragrance that came when I sat in the garden with Jesus then I believe I have just inhaled His fragrance in that intimate moment. The fragrance of LIFE, the fragrance of Jesus – fragrance that comes to give nurturing and life with scent, colour, sound, feel and taste.

Another Piece of Hospitality

Listening as Spiritual Hospitality

To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept.

Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond. Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings. The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.

Henri Nouwen Daily Meditation

As a Culinary Minister I find that so much rich conversation happens in the kitchen: listening, sharing, speaking. It is one more way to feed the soul.

Rhetoric or Authentic Strength

Recently, in a discussion group, someone brought up the passage "the joy of the Lord is my strength". It was explained as something to strive for, to be joyful all the time, never getting down or turned upside down, but always being the same and a sign of deep Godliness.

Something inside me withdrew as I head this explanation as I remembered hearing the repetition of these words when someone became emotional, or suffered from depression, or displayed fear - in fact they were the words used whenever any strong emotion was exhibited! And so somehow in the recesses of my brain these words have been religious rhetoric connected to the instructions to shut down and turn off the tears. They were a bit like the spiritual instruction for "Stepford Wife" behavioural patterns!

An after discussion on these words that Nehemiah spoke brought out that each of us had really no idea what was meant when he said "the joy of the Lord is your strength".

Joy, according to Oxford, means "1. deep feeling of pleasure, 2.thing causing delight".

Brennan Manning writes "Define yourself radically as one beloved by God".(pg 51 Abba's Child) which I am seeing as beginning to embrace that truth that God finds deep pleasure and delight in who I am, where I am here and now. If I can continue to embrace this truth there will be a kind of energy and anchoring for me.

Then I read this following passage about Jesus, and it blows the "Stepford Wife" definition, shut down emotions, kind of behaviour out the door:
"We have spread so many ashes over the historical Jesus that we scarcely feel the glow of His presence anymore. He is a man in a way that we have forgotten men can be: truthful, blunt, emotional, nonmanipulative, sensitive, compassionate - His inner child so liberated that He did not feel it unmanly to cry. He met people head on and refused to cut any deal at the price of His integrity. The gospel portrait of the beloved Child of Abba is that of a man exquisitely attuned to His emotions and uninhibited in expressing them. The Son of Man did not scorn or reject feelings as fickle and unreliable. They were sensitive emotional antennae to which He listed carefully and through which He perceived the will of His Father for congruent speech and action." (pg 89 Abba's Child - Brennan Manning)

Jesus isn't afraid of emotions and therefore it is why he loves our stories. This is someone who has pleasure and delight in me, in my story with all its darkness and Light, and who invites me to live in the reality of deep pain and the height of joy. Not that I do, but I want to because my deepest desire is to live vibrantly and passionately, embracing the present with all it holds - dark and Light.I am not sure I am any closer to defining what it means to live out the words "the joy of the Lord is your strength". But I am aware that as I learn to be obedient to the words "love yourself as well as you love your neighbour" and continue to define myself "radically as one beloved by God" that energy and anchoring moves it from words/rhetoric to authentic strength, which is tangible.

Roadside Sacred Space

The description we are given is of a man who has been beaten and robbed and left helpless to get himself out of the ditch at the side of the road. Several people passed by and do nothing but I can just hear them saying “how could he be so stupid, if only he had….” Or perhaps they look and stare, snicker and laugh and say, “Well, I knew she would end up like that. If only she had….”

Then along comes someone who stops, who bends down and doesn’t judge, but rather offers this person their gift of being present and bringing with them life-giving sacred space. They don’t give lectures, or proceed to tell you what they would do, or make this an inquisition; in fact they may speak very little. This sacred holy moment of acceptance brings with it the safety to remain quiet, or to speak what you long to say, or to let the tears flow without explanation.

I am often given the gift of another’s story, or given the safe place with which to share some of mine. As these gifts are exchanged I realize how much tenderness and compassion, vulnerability and humility will chase away judgment. Sacred, holy space is just that because the Almighty is also present to continue the writing and the telling of the story.

I realize how much our own inner ability to be still/quiet allows us the honor of entering into sacred space with another. We have the privilege of walking whatever distance is required to move away from the place they have collapsed because of their wounds.

Sacred space comes with us when we carry it within – where is it carried within me and how willing am I to share it along the way?

The reason this has been sitting with me recently is two fold: one, I have observed how pain is reacted to by others, and secondly, I know how I react when in pain. People, well intentioned I am sure, give all kinds of advice and speak into something they really know little or nothing about in my life. Those who really speak into my life often say very little – they are willing to linger with me in the spaces that seem dark, help me name my depression, and who are unafraid of my sobbing, my tears, my words strung together that seem to make little sense yet come spilling our from deep within me. They are the ones who acknowledge their own pain and can therefore sit with others without judgment or contempt. These are the people who bring sacred space and the Light of the Almighty to us when we lie crumbled and seem to be a spectacle to those who are filled with fear when they see others pain. They are the face of God in difficult places.

Quote de Jour

What makes the Kingdom come is heartfelt compassion: a way of tenderness that knows no frontiers, no labels, no compartmentalizing, and no sectarian divisions. Jesus, the human Face of God, invites us to deep reflection on the nature of true discipleship and the radical lifestyle of Abba's child."
Pg 76 Abba's Child by Brennan Manning

This word RADICAL keeps coming up for me and I want to embrace it in how I live, how I walk through darkness, and in Light, how I love, how I live out my apprentiship with Jesus, and just how I am willing to accept that I am loved at the beloved.

Bringing Our Secrets Into the Light

We all have our secrets: thoughts, memories, feelings that we keep to ourselves. Often we think, "If people knew what I feel or think, they would not love me." These carefully kept secrets can do us much harm. They can make us feel guilty or ashamed and may lead us to self-rejection, depression, and even suicidal thoughts and actions.

One of the most important things we can do with our secrets is to share them in a safe place, with people we trust. When we have a good way to bring our secrets into the light and can look at them with others, we will quickly discover that we are not alone with our secrets and that our trusting friends will love us more deeply and more intimately than before. Bringing our secrets into the light creates community and inner healing. As a result of sharing secrets, not only will others love us better but we will love ourselves more fully.

Henri Nouwen, Daily Meditation

The Fire Within

"The Fire Within", or passion as I have named it, can so easily be smothered or discounted. Often it is my own lack of gentleness and compassion for myself that pours water on that fire. Perhaps it is when we have spoken and then felt betrayed when the passion is shunned.

Nouwen writes: "Often we come home from a sharing session with a feeling that something precious has been taken away from us, or that holy ground has been trodden upon.
What needs to be guarded is the life of the Spirit within us."
Pg 46/47

Vincent van Gogh wrote: There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passerby only see a wisp of smoke coming through the chimney, and go along their way. Look here, now what must be done? Must one tend the inner fire, have salt in oneself, wait patiently yet with how much impatience for the hour when somebody will come and sit down - maybe to stay? Let him who believes in God wait for the hour that will come sooner or later.
(all quotations from Way of the Heart - Henri Nouwen)

Hence silence becomes the place to sit and wait, to guard the inner fire/passion.

At The Table

The Barometer of Our Lives

Although the table is a place for intimacy, we all know how easily it can become a place of distance, hostility, and even hatred. Precisely because the table is meant to be an intimate place, it easily becomes the place we experience the absence of intimacy. The table reveals the tensions among us. When husband and wife don't talk to each other, when a child refuses to eat, when brothers and sisters bicker, when there are tense silences, then the table becomes hell, the place we least want to be.

The table is the barometer of family and community life. Let's do everything possible to make the table the place to celebrate intimacy.

Daily Meditation
Henri Nouwen

Fingerprinting over Brokenness

Did you ever play with play-doh and watch it mold and shape to your hand movement, see it squish through your fingers and find your prints all over it when you were done? Have you ever worked with clay and as you mold and shape the piece your finger prints are all over it? They are soft malleable substances that move as you will them to; becoming what only you wish them to be.

Using your hands in cooking allows the warmth of your hands to soften the ingredients you work with. This then makes the blending much smoother and the blend of flavours bring out a wonderful scent, and more delicious taste.

As I come back up into the sunshine after being in some dark days recently, the whispering of the Almighty has been about gentleness, compassion, tenderness, brokenness and fragile humanity. I feel like a piece of clay that has been held, pushed and prodded and left with fingerprints all over my heart and soul. I also feel as if the Spirit is holding me, warming up the coldness I have felt, softening the heart and soul to blend in these ingredients. I really do long to be an image bearer but I wrestle so much with my own brokenness and inadequacy. I become overwhelmed by where I fall back into believing my “less than” worth as opposed to believing I can define myself “radically as one beloved by God.” (pg 51) Manning also says that “inner healing of the heart is seldom a sudden catharsis or an instant liberation ….More often it is a gentle growing into oneness with the Crucified.”

“If I am not in touch with my own belovedness, then I cannot touch the sacredness of others.” (pg 58)

“Live in the wisdom of accepted tenderness.” (pg 64)

“Tenderness awakens within the security of knowing we are thoroughly and sincerely like by someone. The mere presence of that special someone in a crowded room brings an inward sigh of relief and a strong sense of feeling safe. The experience of a warm, caring, affective presence banishes our fears. The defense mechanisms of the impostor – sarcasm, name-dropping, self-righteousness, the need to impress others – fall away. We become more open, real, vulnerable, and affectionate. We grow tender.” (pg 64)

(All quotes are from Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning)

Watching a child finger painting is delightful – they are lost in the wonder of colour, exploration and delight. They are in unaware of what brokenness is all about. As I sit in writing with sunshine streaming in the window, I am aware that the Almighty is fingerprinting me more specifically in this journey of brokenness and healing, but is also finger painting the colours of his passionate heart into my being, with artistic creativeness and with Divine wisdom. I can’t say it feels as delightful as my image is of the little child at work/play but then this is an adult heart being tenderized!

People Who Take Care

Yesterday there was a memorial in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver for over 50 women who have disappeared and been murdered from this community. There was a 60 second "blip" on the evening news about this tragedy. Two friends of mine have been giving their time, energy, and heart, to walking beside women from this community, becoming friends with them, and encouraging them to see that they have choices. They love them unconditionally as they carry the pain of watching the tragedy that at times overwhelms the victory.

Peregrinato has posted a powerful piece of writing about people who care. As I read it I thought of my two friends whose call to care is not an easy road - but it is the road of obedience for them. S and J - this is for you:


People Who Take Care by Nancy Henry

People who take care of people
get paid less than anybody
people who take care of people
are not worth much
except to people who are
sick, old, helpless, and poor
people who take care of people
are not important to most other people
are not respected by many other people
come and go without much fuss
unless they don’t show up
when needed
people who make more money
tell them what to do
never get shit on their hands
never mop vomit or wipe tears
don’t stand in danger
of having plates thrown at them
sharing every cold
observing agonies
they cannot tell at home
people who take care of people
have a secret
that sees them through the double shift
that moves with them from room to room
that keeps them on the floor
sometimes they fill a hollow
no one else can fill
sometimes through the shit
and blood and tears
they go to a beautiful place, somewhere
those clean important people
have never been.

The Sacred Invitation to Laughter

The candles were lit, my heart was ready for the sacred time of centering and being silent, hands, and heart, were open ready to receive whenever the Spirit moved.

Gently a picture was etched, in black and white, of a little girl about 9 years old, playing in the snow with an Abba figure. His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he tossed snow into the air for it to mingle with the continuously falling flakes. She danced about, laughing, flinging her arms wide to receive all she could. Her lashes were covered in white surrounding her eyes that sparkled with life. She stuck out her tongue to catch more of these fluffy white flakes and let them melt and disappear. Abba continued to tease her gently, coaxing uninhibited laughter from her, laughter that came from the centre of her being without any fear or self-consciousness.

Laughter is said to be a wonderful medicine. Laughter can heal or it can mock. But in recent weeks the Spirit has been speaking to me of laughter. It began with this etching that came out of silence at the beginning of a time with my Spiritual Director. As I child I was serious and intense and afraid to speak, let alone laugh out loud. Life was serious and purposeful and frivolity was thought to be “worldly” so I withdrew to watching the fun, yearning for it, but rarely reach out to join it. Today one of the last rooms that will become vulnerable is the room of my heart and soul that is filled with fun, with humour and playfulness. Yet on the phone, where you cannot see me nor can I see you, it is safe to allow humour to come into play. It is a place where I cannot see you withdraw from me and therefore can feel safe. (that is a whole other subject of why we choose false intimacy).

The Spirit seems to be on a quest to open these rooms of laughter and delight in my soul and I am helpless to stop this wind of nudging.

Sitting in the sun a sparrow sat on the window ledge looking in and I laughed. Abba knows sparrows sang me back to life when I wanted to die. This little fellow invited me to remember the songs of life.

The long beach stretched out before me in the early morning last week, as I walked in the surf and waited for the day to be born. Slowly it arrived – the sunrise on my right in the east and a rainbow over the rolling Pacific Ocean on my right. I laughed in delight at Abba’s invitation to let this day be playful.

Like the little girl whose arms were stretched wide to receive and to give into the wonder of laughter and living, Abba has been inviting the child within to come and laugh with wonder that is not the least bit self-conscious. When I seek Yeshua, with the passionate heart of a woman, the response is laughter of delight, and the presence that seems to speak the words “I believe in you”.

Words that Brennan Manning wrote speak to me of a bold statement made with laughter from the one who asks, and laughter of delight from the One who loves to give this gift of sacred laughter that heals, that releases and invites one into deeper intimacy where it is safe to reveal my own humour and playfulness.

“Define yourself radically as one beloved by God.”
Pg 51 Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning

The Divine seems intent on inviting me into laughter as part of the way to live more passionately. An invitation that wraps grace, love, beauty, wisdom and passion together so I can see Them more clearly.

Camping Out in Brokeness

This past weekend some friends and I went to see Memoirs of a Geisha. The most disturbing message out of the movie is “a Geisha has no right to desire”. Being bought as a child and sold into a life you did not choose also came with the instruction to shut down your heart. Nitta Sayuri, along with her sister, is sold by her father because of their poverty – sold into a life none of them knew anything about.

Dangerous Beauty also a powerful movie that speaks of a woman whose only choice, in order to find life, is to be a courtesan. She embraces beauty in a place which should shut down her heart but instead she refuses to do so. Veronica cannot let her heart be shut down, even if she must stand alone, she will fight to let her heart live magnificently.

Nitta Sayuri, through abuse and training, learns that she must never dream or hope. Slavery to the prison that is her life is all she can exist in.

Perhaps the reason this message from Memoirs of a Geisha hit me so powerfully is because in the last number of weeks I have been camping out in the place of lost hope, lost dreams, disappointment. It is the campsite where the unfulfilled pieces of the heart and soul are scattered about in places that are meant for LIFE, for hope, for living with passion. This campsite holds little to no light, there is little wind of the Spirit – a least that my heart can feel. Camping out in this place of darkness, closed heart, and despair, is so contrary to where my passion for life lives – yet somehow it becomes my squatter’s camp when my heart seems unable to find the Light. Why do I let old voices have such power over the truth?

Hearing the words “I believe in you” brought my heart back out into the Light again, like coming out of the woods onto white sand of a gloriously sunny beach. The death or attempted death of desire is often self inflicted, triggered by words that echo the past.

My heart is set on pilgrimage – set to choose healing and wholeness and I believe in the truth that my heart is set on pilgrimage, that the Almighty will walk this journey with me. Could it be They were camping out with me holding those words “I believe in you”? Could it be They were waiting until my soul was willing to once again embrace the truth of “my heart is set on pilgrimage” and seek the Light?

I want the courage of Veronica who refused to let her heart and soul die to desire, to living passionately. The tears hiding behind my eyes are like the grains of sand on the seashore – too many to be counted. They will fall when they can but I realize today that I no longer want to stay in this place of shutting down my heart – I want the freedom of the open sky and endless horizon where the Spirit whispers that to desire in the place that also holds disappointment is to live in the sacred space that holds my brokenness and my healing.

Thoughts on Gentleness

These words from Henri Nouwen were sweet to read this morning:

Once in a while we meet a gentle person. Gentleness is a virtue hard to find in a society that admires toughness and roughness. We are encouraged to get things done and to get them done fast, even when people get hurt in the process. Success, accomplishment, and productivity count. But the cost is high. There is no place for gentleness in such a milieu.

Gentle is the one who does "not break the crushed reed, or snuff the faltering wick" (Matthew 12:20). Gentle is the one who is attentive to the strengths and weaknesses of the other and enjoys being together more than accomplishing something. A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. A gentle person knows that true growth requires nurture, not force. Let's dress ourselves with gentleness. In our tough and often unbending world our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us.

Henri Nouwen Society, Daily Meditation

Wail and Weep With Those Who Suffer

The book Tiny Dancer is the story of a 9 year old girl in Afghanistan who was severely burned by a kerosene stove in the family home. In the first weeks of this tragedy, as she clung to life, in excruciating pain, neighbours and family would gather and begin wailing with the parents and the child. This is sometimes the only way to join in the pain of the one who is suffering – to vocalize it with loud and prolonged wailing.

I have never understood why some cultures do this – wail so loudly when sorrow comes into their lives. This explanation gave me a difference perspective on how we suffer with others, how we rejoice with others.

Our Western culture allows us to participate in the joy and celebrations of others with cheering, laughing, lots of activity and noise. Yet in sorrow we are silent and withdrawn. Why is grief meant to by silent? Why we are afraid to let our lamenting be heard? Long ago it was said “rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.” I am sure you, like I, have been in deep sorrow yet there has been no one to sorrow with us, or to want to celebrate and we have been alone.

Candy wrote of a lament service here which is an amazing way of letting sorrow be heard, be felt, be participated in.

Waiting with others in their place of suffering is revealing to my mind, my heart, my soul, that it means more than prayer, more than acknowledging to the Almighty that we love them, care for them and ask for answers. Perhaps it means that if I am to wait with them, or they with me, together we will feel the pain and the angst that cannot be avoided, walked around, or ignored. Could it be that it gives us a glimpse of Jesus actions when he said he would never leave us or forsake us? Is this what was meant by sharing burdens with each other? Could it be that by vocalizing joy and sorrow with others is doing what Jesus did and part of learning to truly be an apprentice? His senses were so alive and aware and we were created to be the same. Somewhere we have received the message to dull those senses, and our expressions of joy and grief. Expressions of our own and participating in the joy and sorrow of others. This waiting with others reveals the honor, and the pain of participating in this part of the journey.

In the past I have felt that if a burden was shared with another then they were obliged to try and “fix” the issue. Wailing in pain to simply give voice to the one that is suffering is not about “fixing” – rather it is being able to acknowledge and lend your voice to their pain. Acknowledging the heart also means you (body, mind and soul) have been seen, in part, by another.

What would it look like if in my agonizing pain, or your agonizing pain, we were not afraid to wail together?

What would the suffering of this world be like if we were all to weep and wail with those who are starving, in slavery, in horrific abuse?

I do believe the Almighty, They, participate in the wailing.

A Mediation

Oh Lord, my God,
the Highest God,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
my Shield and the Shield of my ancestors -
It's easy to ask you to return in mercy to Zion.
It's tough to ask you to return in mercy to me.
But there are so many dirty corners,
so many dark crannies,
so many prejudices and preconceptions
that only you can see.
Do I really want you to return to my life - even if it hurts?
Do I really want you to transform me - whatever the cost?
Do I really want you?
I hope so.
Yet, I need so much more than hope.
I need help.
I need you.

Pg 53

Praying Like The Jew, Jesus

Listening Rather Than Being Heard

Going beneath the surface of life, deep sea diving into the ocean of living, seems to be much more about listening rather than about being heard.

Many pilgrims over the centuries have written about their experiences in silence and how one begins to hear deeply in those places. Silence can simultaneously beckon and repel us from her presence. I am beginning to realize how much Silence and Lady Wisdom partner together in the teaching process of listening - listening to the heart, the soul, the wind of the Spirit (Ruach). She can become our own Cave of Adullam - refuge in a place of desperation.

Words can heal, or slay, and so often they are spoken but do not seem to convey what the heart longs to say. Silence becomes the refuge where one can listen and again seek the depths of life in order to find how to firstly hear ones own heart and then know whether or not it should be given words or not.

Peregrinatio est tacere - To be silent keeps us pilgrims Pg 45 The Way of the Heart

Silence can permeate through the layers of the soul, like the humidity in the density of the forest. "permeated with a deep sense of reverence for God"
The book of Acts

Perhaps one thought that Henri Nouwen puts forward in The Way of the Heart is the idea that words are for the present and silence draws us into the mystery of the future. "the word is the instrument of the present world and silence is the mystery of the future world."
pg 42

Silence, the place of listening, is a way of learning to bring the present and the hope for the future together like Silence and Lady Wisdom. Instead of a desperation to be heard we come to the place of thirsting to listen.

To Build A School

A group of students, radical students, are undertaking a project to build a school in Africa. What a great project! Mike has made reference to it here.
Matt over at Pacific Grace emailed me to share the idea and I am excited for him, his family, and his students. I am happy to share it with you readers as well.

Have a look at what they are doing over here at Pacific Grace and the school for Nyima Koroma.

Contempt and Compassion

Contempt and compassion seem to live at opposite ends of the scale when it comes to how I live out the message of grace. Learning where contempt comes from, the pain and wounding that has been its living quarters, and wanting to live differently has prompted me to continue the hard work to exchange contempt for compassion, in the solitude of my own sacred space.

Coming face to face with contempt in another is like blearily looking in the mirror in the dark and someone turns on brutal fluorescent light – your own image is alarmingly reflected back.

On the one morning of sunshine in 28 days, sitting in a coffee shop looking out at the restless ocean, I pulled The Way of the Heart out of my bag, to digest some words of wisdom as I sipped on my steaming soy latte. Nouwen’s wealth of experience and his thoughts on compassion and solitude are worth sharing with you. These are words that beckon me to come and drink them in.

“Compassion is the fruit of solitude and the basis of all ministry. The purification and transformation that take place in solitude manifest themselves in compassion.”

“Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. “

“In solitude we realize that nothing human is alien to us, that the roots of all conflict, war, injustice, cruelty, hatred, jealousy, and envy are deeply anchored in our own heart. In solitude our heart of stone can be turned into a heart of flesh, a rebellious heart into a contrite heart, and a closed heart into a heart that can open itself to all suffering people in a gesture of solidarity.”
pg 24/25 The Way of the Heart

Nouwen speaks of compassion that opens the heart, and how it comes when we look at the truth of who we are within. Perhaps the sadness about contempt that I am seeing today is that in effect contempt keeps us from acknowledging the depth of our own wounding. Contempt prevents us from holding the dark places open to the Light where the breath of the Almighty can bring the balm of healing life. Contempt keeps the heart in isolation, in darkness. I love the thought Nouwen shares of solitude yielding compassion.

That truth of solitude yielding compassion is a balm that heals the sting of contempt.