I See You

Peals of laughter erupt from this tiny little being as you cover your eyes and then quickly reveal them and say 'peek a boo, I see you'. Most of us have played this game with little children and found ourselves laughing along as their delight becomes ours. Perhaps the words are not yet clear to these little ones but they surely are aware of our gaze, our tone of love and delight as we look into their eyes and they look into ours...they see us and we see them. As adults I think we still play this little game but in an entirely different way which may not involve laughter, or looking directly at another person. I wonder if it comes "can you see me?" instead of "I see you".

We long to be fully seen and yet there are parts of us, so deeply sacred, that they are not meant to be seen by all. So often others have shared how unseen they feel in the place they currently are - they feel so unknown, and long to be acknowledged in the areas which hold the essence of who they are. Within is this constant longing to be whole but these unacknowledged pieces of us seem to be fractured pieces. I am sure most of us have felt this in various places on our life pilgrimage. It is painful to hear another speak of it because it touches the same pain with me. We are slotted into roles that perhaps we do well but they do not give us the freedom to expand the other facets we hold within or to show more fully our true selves. To emerge from these slots is not the role of others, but seems to me, to be our own responsibility. Yet there are so many levels of our being affected when we are unseen and it can be confusing, aggravating and even paralyzing. Doubt can seep into our confidence, our vulnerable/wounded places become more sensitive and what we love doing can be attacked by apathy. Could it be part of the struggle lies in the reality that there of pieces within we have not yet discovered, acknowledged or been able to make space for or hold open for others? Our own inner paradox. What do we see when we look at a stranger and there is no conversation to open up the inside to us?

I am currently starting up a new little business that will in part be preparing meals for seniors in their homes. In my research conversations with this age group they have revealed their own struggle in the area of being unseen and unknown in this later part of their life. Sitting at table together to eat a meal, can I 'see' them as they share stories of their life with me? Some in this stage of life are not able to hold onto what is present so easily but the past is still so fully alive. Their sharing offers other generations insight helping us honor and share in who they are now - even if their memory does not allow them to hold the present.

One of my current reads is a new book by Barbara Brown Taylor, "An Altar In The World". In the chapter The Practice of Encountering Others - Community the author gave me some different insight into 'seeing' others. She writes:
"What we have most in common is not religion but humanity. I learned this from my religion, which also teaches me that encountering another human being is as close to God as I may ever get - in the eye-to-eye thing, the person-to-person thing - which is where God's Beloved has promised to show up. Paradoxically, the point is not to see him. The point is to see the person standing right in front of me, who has no substitute, who can never be replaced, whose heart holds things for which there is no language, whose life is an unsolved mystery. The moment I turn that person into a character in my own story, the encounter is over. I have stopped being a human being and have become a fiction writer instead.

When I first came to Christian faith in college, people I barely knew made a habit of telling me they loved me. They were Christians too, and I guess it was their way of welcoming me to the family. I did not mind, exactly, but since they barely knew me I was not sure what they were talking about. Did they love the way my right foot turned out, so that I left tracks like a penguin on the beach? Did they love my willingness to make hand printed signs for Bible study? Did they love the way my upper lip disappeared when I laughed? I decided to find out, so the next time one of the Christians said she loved me, I asked her why.

She made a surprised face, like I should already know.

'Because God loves you!' she said, throwing up both hands in the air. 'I love you because God loves everybody!'

This may sound small, but I decided that was not enough for me. I did not want to be loved in general. I wanted to be loved in particular, as I was convinced God loved. Plus, I am not sure it is possible to see the face of God in other people if you cannot see the faces they already have. What is it that makes the face different from every other face? If someone threw a blindfold over your own eyes right now, could you say what colour those other eyes are? If you had to send someone into a crowded room to find this person, what details would you use to make sure she was found?

The Desert Fathers did not see one another all that often, but when they did they knew the encounter would be holy. This did not mean that they always behaved particularly well; it just meant that they knew they were one anothers' best bets for becoming fully human. (quote from page 102/103)

There are times when we are surprised by one who has seen our inner spaces. The second time I saw the man who would be my husband he brought a book and suggested it didn't need to be on his shelf but might be good on mine. Feasting with God - all about the sacredness of the process of preparing, serving and eating a meal in communion with others. I was overwhelmed that he saw into my soul when I was unaware I had even opened the window for him to look in! Feasting With God, the book, is all about engaging our senses when we come to dine together in the sacred event of a meal. Those who listen and see carry within them a fragrant gift of life. Deeply sensitive and intuitive people speak so gently and powerfully of life being lived very much in the present. Somehow they see the uniqueness of each person they interact with.

What do I see? I am listening so I can see? What am I looking for? These questions have lead me to more clearly discern that a contemplative life is a listening life. A listening life is to open your heart and eyes to see more clearing, and know at a deeper level. All of my senses require engagement so that I am able to 'see' others and know myself more fully. I don't know that I can do this without acknowledging the Spirit's presence within me. In an encounter between Jesus and a blind man, the man was given sight but he had to also learn to listen to have clear vision. Jesus is a bit sarcastic when he says to the group around him "since you claim to see everything so well..." but he is asking them to engage their senses in order for seeing, listening and knowing to give them a more complete picture. I am definitely moving towards the reality that to see another all my senses must be engaged when I interact with them in order to understand more of who they are. As I reflect on conversations with friends who feel unseen, as I look at how Jesus walked through this exchange with a 'blind' man, and the crowd who could not or would not 'see' him, fully engaged senses are a must for clear vision.

Cathleen Falsani, in her new book Sin Boldly, quotes Frederick Buechner and my interpretation is that the senses together are part of seeing which is very much connected to grace.

Listen to your life.
See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.
In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness:
touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden part of it,
because in the last analysis all moments are key moments,
and life itself is grace.

To those who have shared their aching places that are unseen, thank you for letting me listen and making some of those places visible as we sat together.

Empower Me

Empower me to be a bold participant,
rather than a timid saint in waiting,
in the difficult ordinariness of now;
to exercise the authority of honesty,
rather than to defer to power,
or deceive to get it;
to influence someone for justice,
rather than impress anyone for gain;
and,
by grace,
to find treasures of joy,
of friendship,
of peace,
hidden in fields of the daily you give me to plow.

A reading by Ted Loder from 'A Grateful Heart"

Memories and Gnomes

In the movie Amelie, there is a delightful gnome that is photographed all over the world and then the photos are sent to a man who needs to have life awakened in him. It is a most delightful movie.

When I was heading to Moldova, Hungary, and then Salzburg Austria just over two years ago I had packed a little woolen gnome in my suitcase and promised my beloved I would photograph it in as many places as possible and then tell him all about the journey. This photo is the record of that visit to Salzburg. Yet there is so much more to this memory as I look at it. Two years ago today, in that city of ancient history, long walks along the river, chamber music at the Festung Hohensalzburg, strudel and Austrian white wine at a side walk cafe, fresh hot pretzels in the market square, and the celebration of Easter, my beloved ask me to marry him.

It was a beautiful day, like this beautiful spring day today, and the memories have had us both laughing today as we thought about that magical time so far away from home. Today there is fresh cut wood to stack and dry for our winter fires, there is a house to clean, groceries to do, a Seder supper to plan, and bills to pay. Yet those memories and the journey we have been on together bring us to this moment where there are fresh stories being written.

I am full of gratitude to the Almighty for all that those memories - the celebrations, the changes, endings, beginnings and the faithful presence of the Divine.

The gnome sits on the bookshelf in our living room waiting for the next trip and we have a bottle of Austrian white wine to drink with supper tonight!

Wings of Peace, Strings of Hope

Every Easter the priest at our church would hang the most beautiful coloured paper butterflies from the ceiling. They would gently sway and remind people of spring, of resurrection, hope and new life. When he moved from our church he also took his butterflies away with him.
My husband missed this ritual last Easter and so he decided that this year we would make and hang origami peace cranes. Between the two of us we have made 170 of these paper cranes and now we are trying to string them, 14 to a string, on fishing line! Tangled threads, needles that keeping falling off the thread and little beads that have to be threaded and knotted between each crane, have made this a rather time consuming task. Once you get the 14 cranes on the line...where does one hang them all until they can be taken to the church later in the week?? Well the 5 that have been completed will rest on the tallest ladder we have, right in the middle of the living room! There is always a way to get this done.
Okay, so one must keep the vision of all 12 strings hanging, seemingly invisibly from the sanctuary ceiling, and swaying gently on Easter Sunday, and complete this slow task!