prayer – Page 2 – Spirit Reflections

A Time to Keep

April 30, 2021

“A time to keep, and a time to throw away.” Eccl. 3: 6

A few days ago, we entertained a couple in our home for dinner—a couple we had not seen in well over a year due to the pandemic. On the one hand, the experience felt surreal, and on the other, it felt like we had picked up right where we left off, as if the pandemic had been some kind of time warp.

After catching up on our lives over the past thirteen months (not that there was a lot to tell), our friend asked a question. He said, “What it is that you want to keep from this pandemic experience, that you don’t want to lose as we go back to our routines?” I found his question thought-provoking and deserving of reflection. As I have mentioned in a couple of former blogs, I believe that the pandemic gave all of us, the global community, a time to reassess and reconsider how we want to spend our lives and who we want to be, who we want our communities, our nations, our world to be. The four of us shared our various thoughts, and a common thread was a desire to keep a sense of discernment before jumping right back into all those obligations and commitments, to weigh what and who are life-giving and what and who are not, to decide where and with whom we are called to expend energy, and where and with whom we are not. In other words, we have been given the opportunity to decide, with love and wisdom, what time to keep and what time to let go.

After reflecting on the conversation, the well-known passage from Ecclesiastes Chapter Three of the Old Testament came to mind. The Book of Ecclesiastes is considered part of the “Wisdom” tradition of Hebrew Scripture and is thought to have been written sometime between c. 450–200 BCE, over two thousand years ago. The first eight verses state that there is a time and a season for every aspect and experience of human life. Plagues and pandemics and political upheaval were as much a part of life then as they are now, and the author knew something of what he wrote. As he pairs each experience, each time and season, he invites us to discern, to listen with our hearts, to the seasons that we are in and to perhaps even discover a blessing, or at least a reassurance, that there is something to be learned, a gift to be received. Who we are as we exit each season says something about how we lived through it.

We have been in a long and, in parts of the world, continuing season of dying, of weeping, of not touching, of silence, and we are all ready for it to end, but what will we keep without rushing back to a normal that no longer really exists? What has become something unexpectedly precious to us? What is one insight, one observation, one “ah ha!” moment, one touch of the heart, one glimpse of the Divine One, one understanding that gently unfolded for us and has the capacity to make us more loving and our lives more sacred? Those are questions worth our reflection; those are questions that can transform us, and, in turn, transform the world. Blessings to you ~ Rosemary

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

Listen

March 24, 2021

My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak . . . James 1:19

In this increasingly noisy world, consider the almost lost art of listening. We tend to talk over each other, interrupt, or wait for the space between another person’s breath so that we can jump in with what we want to say. Often our minds are a million miles away while our partner, friend, or child is talking to us. The ongoing conversations in our own heads prevent us from truly hearing what the other is trying to express. I wonder how many gifts, how many precious insights, we have failed to receive simply because we did not listen.

To truly listen to others is to acknowledge their presence and their significance. Listening is an act of honoring someone else and making space for them in our lives because they matter. We give up a part of ourselves to give to another. Listening offers the gift of attention, and in this white-water world, who of us would not appreciate just a moment of true attention?

In regard to Lent and seasons of transformation, listening is a practice we can “give to” someone else. One way to practice listening is to become more aware of what is directly in front of us and to slow down enough to hear it, whatever it is–a spiritual practice called “audio divina,” or holy listening. Everything created has a voice, and as we attend to listening to those voices, we practice becoming more attentive to the words a child of God is sharing with us.

We each have a story to tell. What a gift it is when we make room to listen to another’s story, to hear it not only with our ears but also with our hearts. That is how Divine Love listens to us. Blessings~ Rosemary

Listen

When the wind blows across your skin, listen.
you might hear the voice of an ancestor
guiding you toward your dream.
When you catch the glimpse of silver
dancing across the waves, listen
for the ancient secret that directs your path.
Listen to the way the breeze forms
grooves in the sand and learn about the symmetry
of your own life. Stop what you are doing
to honor the song of the mockingbird in all
its different languages and know it sings
for you. Listen to the way the pelican
rides on the currents or glides
across a cloudless sky, inviting you
to let go.
Listen to your own heartbeat,
what it calls you to remember
and listen to the voice of the one
seeking that same heart.
Listen to the hibiscus when it
unfurls its orange petals to receive
the Light, holding its breath at its own glory
and be amazed at each bright word
it utters. Become the sacred vessel
that treasures each sound it’s given
with reverent wonder.

Ephemerals

March 19, 2021

One year ago, on March 13, 2020, the first case of Coronavirus was reported. Our governor announced that all schools would immediately close for three weeks. On March 16, businesses began closing and sending their employees home to work. On March 18, statewide orders prevented gatherings of more than 25 people, closed beaches, and postponed primary elections. On March 27, all businesses deemed non-essential were ordered to close for three weeks. That order was extended. By April 1, the state hit a milestone of 1000 confirmed cases, and on April 3, the governor imposed a stay-at-home order for the rest of the month. While the word “unprecedented” gained a new, and negative, meaning, the redbuds bloomed.

Redbud trees are native to eastern North America from southern Michigan south to central Mexico, and east to New Jersey. Species thrive as far west as California and as far north as southern Ontario. The pink to magenta-colored blossoms last about three weeks, and when not in bloom, redbud leaves are heart-shaped. Their time in bloom is “ephemeral,” a Greek word that originally meant “lasting one day.” Blossoms and wildflowers that appear briefly are fleeting and reflect the transitory nature of all life. Redbuds are also my favorite spring tree.

Last year, as we walked into the unfamiliar and frightening period of lockdown, I noticed the redbuds more than I have at any other time in my life. The initial months of the spread of Covid terrified me as I worried about my own family and their health and watched the numbers rise. There were moments when I could do nothing more than stare out my windows, and it was in those precious moments that my eyes settled on the beauty of the redbuds, their splash of color a symbol of hope amidst the bare branches of winter. Redbuds reminded me that everything happening in our world, in my own world, was transitory, fleeting, and that resurrection happens.

One year later, the deaths attributed to Covid in our state alone are over 10,000, and people are still dying. On April 7, our governor has decreed that the mask mandate will end and everything can reopen fully. That statement alone makes me anxious because I believe we are acting too quickly. Yet, the redbuds are back in bloom, just for a brief time, and in that ephemeral space, they beckon me to ask if I am a different person than I was this time last year, and the answer is that in some ways, yes, I am. I am keenly aware of how little control I have in this life. I am keenly aware of the bittersweet and poignant significance of my loved ones. I understand in a way I never did how miraculous each moment is because that moment, no matter what it contains, is fleeting, ephemeral, and can never return exactly as it was. There was a time when I did not pay attention to the exquisite wonder of a redbud blossom, and now I savor each day it deigns to delight me.

Will my more focused and appreciative attention span continue as the world tries to rise from the ashes and return to its noisy, feverish self? I pray so. It is my Lenten hope that I can continue to listen to the song of the redbuds, even when they are no longer in bloom. Blessings to you. ~ Rosemary

And it is good . . .

March 15, 2021

Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the immensity of your own presence.
Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses. . . .
Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.
May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven
around a heart of wonder.
For Presence, John O’Donohue

I take part in a group that engages in heart/spirituality/psychology work and looks at how the three (and more parts of us) intertwine and relate to one another. Our group tends to reflect beyond boundaries and boxes that religious and other institutions have established while still realizing that those boundaries and boxes exist. Mostly, we take all of these parts and delve into the heart because we believe that it is in the heart, in the seat of Divine Love, that healing and wholeness take place.

Last week, our facilitator invited us to take part in an exercise. The instructions were to fill in the blank with our own name and write it down: “It is good to be _________.” This exercise might be easy for many, but to be honest, I didn’t want to do it. I could already sense tears pressing against my eyelids because it hasn’t always been “good to be Rosemary.” That statement opened the floodgate for past mistakes, difficult experiences, betrayals, inadequacies and failings to swamp me. But I wrote it down, and as I knew would happen, that judgmental part of me began to have a party. If the silence and expressions on the faces of others in the group were any indication, I suspect that they were dealing with the same judge.

Yet as I sat a bit longer with the statement, something shifted. Six simple words were on the page. Nothing else. No reasons, explanations, or justifications. “It is good to be Rosemary.” Period. My heart shifted and I began to feel that yes, it is good to be me. Period. No reasons, explanations, or justifications. My mistakes (both past and future), my complexity of emotions and intentions, my background, my sacred stories, my particular choices and journey have shaped me into who I am. They have all given me my voice, not someone else’s. No one else can possibly be me but me. That is a sacred truth, one that the world will never tell us, one that we can only discover where Love dwells, waiting to welcome us home.

Gerald May, spiritual writer and psychiatrist, wrote: “Creation would miss us if we were not here. We are significant, precious, and needed, not just for the choices we make and the actions we take, but for our very presence. The scriptures of every major religion attest to it: the love in which we exist loves us for our very being” (The Awakened Heart). “For our very being,” no reasons, explanations, or justifications.

As we shake off the ashes of the past year and move toward the new life of spring, what if the gift we gave ourselves was that very statement—it is good to be who we are? Just that and nothing more. What if we planted it like a seed in our hearts and let it take root? It would not only change us, but quite possibly help transform the world.

Whoever is reading this blog, it is good to be you. You are precious, honored, and loved. Creation would miss you if you weren’t here. I would miss you if you weren’t here. Believe it. Blessings ~ Rosemary

“But Lent”

March 3, 2021

This blog, offered in the transitional time between winter and spring, as the earth reawakens, as we continue rising from ashes to hope (an ongoing journey), as many religious traditions invite us to a time of introspection, honesty, and repentance, is, I pray each time I post, a place of respite where words of gentleness and compassion are shared, not just for ourselves but for the world. I pray this blog always proclaims that we are loved by the Divine Lover, and that we were created to be loved and to return love. I believe that looking within and seeking the Divine Being, whatever our religious traditions or absence of them name It, is not about “belly-gazing” for our personal comfort but will lead us to influence our surroundings and environments with gentleness and compassion in a world that needs now, more than ever, to be loved. Striving for perfection, accepting the false gods that tell us it is what we do or accomplish or achieve that defines us, being taught that we had to do more to be more are not the ways of Love. We begin turning away from those old stories and turning toward Love when we say “yes” to the invitation to embrace our “enoughness.”

A couple of days ago, with all of the above on my heart, I was gifted with a poem that I would like to share with you as gift. It captures all that I have tried to say in the past few blogs. The poet and pastor, Rev. Diana Carroll, rector of St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Annapolis, MD, granted me permission to include it here, along with her photo, for which I am most grateful. We both invite you to take the words into your heart and to hear Love speak through them.

Yes, we know our own areas of challenge; we’d be dishonest if we did not own them. But we are so much more than our challenges. We hold within our deepest selves the image, the breath, of the One Who Created Us, the One who desires we simply sit still long enough to allow Love to embrace us, to breathe us as we breathe Love. Blessings to you ~ Rosemary

“But Lent”

I would love to become
the kind of person
who makes sure the dishes
are done
every night
so she can wake up
in the morning
to the peaceful welcome
of a clean kitchen.
I would love to become
the kind of person
who replies to every email
the same day it arrives
and keeps a neat,
nearly empty
inbox.
I would love to become
the kind of person
who never picks
at her cuticles
or bites
at her lips
or chews
at the insides
of her cheeks
until the dentist
gives her a lecture about it.
But Lent
is not for trying
to become someone
I am not.
It is for honoring
the person
I already am.
My wholeness.
My integrity.
My belovedness.
And so,
in this holy season,
I will not strive
for self-improvement.
I will not seek
to create new habits
or to break
the old ones.
I will not squeeze myself
into impossible expectations
guaranteed to leave me angry
and disappointed
when I fail.
Instead,
I will do nothing
but breathe,
receiving the quiet gift
of every inhale
and every exhale,
receiving it even
when I am too busy
or distracted
to notice.
Somehow,
God is present
in the breath,
in the breathing.
And from time to time,
if I simply
stop
trying,
I may be given
the grace
of knowing it.

Turning toward Love

February 26, 2021

“For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works.” Psalm 139: 13-14

“If you never make a mistake, you’re probably not a very good engineer.” That quotation is attributed to my husband’s former boss and mentor, Mark. They were discussing an employee’s very costly monetary mistake in a product that was about to go out the door, and Mark’s reply was filled with gracious acceptance and nonjudgment. The engineer responsible had been working on a completely new product with new technology which required taking risks. This particular risk did not work, but lessons were learned, the most important one probably being the engineer’s appreciation for the gift of grace.

Mark’s comment touched me and led me to expand it. “If you never make a mistake, you’re probably not a very good engineer . . . If you never make a mistake, you’re probably not a very good parent . . . not a very good teacher . . . not a very good writer . . . not a very good partner or friend . . . not a very good Believer in whatever or whomever you place your beliefs.” For most of us, we hear the exact opposite. Mistakes are to be avoided. Mistakes equal punishment, even shame. Mistakes diminish we who are. Yet in the eyes of Divine Love, which Mark was just a mere reflection of, we are loved despite our mistakes or maybe—shockingly—even because of our mistakes.

Spiritual guide and psychiatrist Gerald May wrote this about love, which includes love of ourselves, in his book The Awakened Heart: “Every religion has moral commandments intended to promote kindness toward others . . . .The real commandment of love is an invitation born in our own yearning, not an externally imposed ‘should.’ . . .Jews and Christians honor the great commandment to love God with one’s entire being, and one’s neighbor as oneself. The very name of Islam implies surrendering completely to God. The heart of the Hindu Song of God, the Bhagavad-Gita, is God’s request for complete, unconditional love. Buddhism seeks the inherent compassion existing at the root of reality. . . .In every deep world religion, the greatest commandment goes to the very core of being, and there it depends radically on grace” (p.14).

We are invited to love something bigger than us, and that invitation also implies that whatever is bigger than us also loves us. We are invited to love our neighbor, and that same invitation includes love of ourselves. Each one of us composes part of that Love Triangle. If that is so, that we are loved beyond measure, that we are included in the equation of Love, then in this season of turning, we can turn back from our own lack of self-love and turn toward that Source who makes us whole, just as we are. We are made for Love.

We Christians are fond of saying that Jesus Christ came to save us. But I often ask, “Save us from what?” Sin? Death? Despair? I’ve come to believe that Jesus Christ and other spiritual leaders come to save us from ourselves, from our own lack of love for ourselves, just as we are, both broken and beautiful, composed of shadow and light, yearning to know Love. Yes, we make mistakes, but those mistakes don’t ever define who we are. When we turn back to Divine Love, we can give up our lack of self-worth and give to ourselves the compassion and grace that remind us how wonderfully created we are. Wonderful are Love’s works. ~ Rosemary

A Blessing for Whoever You Are

May you be entranced by the hue of your eyes—
emerald green, slate gray, cornflower blue, burnished brown,
and all the wondrous shades in between that were selected
just for you.
May you be blessed by Love’s design for the color
of your skin—ebony, ivory, bronze, cream, caramel—
and the marvelous blends on the palette
created with care for you.
May you receive the blessing of your shape, your size,
your height which are a delight to Love’s eyes
because you were created in Love’s image.
Love breathes in you.
May you be blessed by releasing all that says
you are less than, you are not enough, you are unlovable
and wrap your arms around your very heart.
May you be blessed by the sacred place within you,
the chamber where Love waits simply to gaze
upon you. And may you believe that gaze
that washes over you and whispers,
“Love. Love. Love. Just as you are. Just because
you are.”

Groundhog Day Prayers

February 2, 2021

If you watched Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day in 1993 (can it really be that long ago?), then you know the premise—Murray’s character, Phil, awakens to the same day again and again and again. That is how my prayer life–not to mention my actual life–has felt during these long months of plague and politics. Day after day, again and again, I lift up all those affected by Covid; those who are seriously ill or dying; those who are unemployed and struggling; those who are waiting for vaccinations (including me); those who are living alone, like my daughter; those who are the decision-makers; those giving care in the medical field; and especially those in my circle of friends and family who have been touched by the virus, even as I ask for a circle of protection around those I love. Each day. Again and again.

Then I lift up those in political leadership and ask for hearts to turn from anger to cooperation; to turn from selfishness to servanthood, to turn from deceit to truth. I ask for protection for those who have been threatened by violence and courage for leaders to denounce such threats, to serve country instead of a person. I ask that the United States become united in compassion and generosity and good stewardship. Over and over. And on some weary days, I simply lift all my prayers in one bundle: “Here are my Groundhog Day prayers.” Again. I doubt I am alone.

We often place great expectations on God or the Universe or a Higher Power. If we “rub the lamp” the right way, a spiritual genie will appear who will grant all our wishes and correct our mistakes, and do so quickly. But when that genie isn’t forthcoming, or doesn’t respond in the way that we wish and at the moment we desire, how do we persevere in prayer? In hope? What resources do we need to hold on for the long term? Or, why even bother if no one is listening?

Life has never been easy. Simply reflect on the lives of people who have gone before us and what they modeled for us. I remember my mother who was widowed after 34 years of marriage and went on to live more years widowed than married. I think of how she lost a three-year old daughter to leukemia, despite her prayers, and then, much later, her beloved firstborn son died unexpectedly in his sleep. Yet she went on. My mother held to a deeply-rooted belief that she was not alone, and she often repeated her favorite phrase from the ancient mystic, Julian of Norwich: “All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.” Whether things were actually “well” or not, my mother stay grounded even while her life unfolded in unexpected ways.

What resources do I need to hold tight to that same conviction as I lift my same prayers? Trust, yes, but also patience. Perhaps we can’t have one without the other. I also need encouragement from others who remind me that, at some point, at least “some” things will be well again, and some things are well, even now. I need wisdom to make life-giving and light-giving choices, and I need a wellspring of compassion for all who inhabit this same world as I do.

To answer the question, Why bother if no one is listening? At the end of Groundhog Day, “Phil” has changed, been refined, even redeemed to a certain degree. He learns how to love and receive love. His life moves on, in a more meaningful and aware way. Instead of staying stuck, focused only on himself, he is able to give. As I continue to lift my Groundhog Day prayers, I ask that they be received as a gift for this world, not a long list of requests to a God who must also be so weary. Even if these prayers aren’t answered in my time and in my way, I, too, may be changed, refined, even redeemed by the very act of gifting and praying them. Instead of staying stuck, or giving up, I turn toward the world in a new way. Blessings ~ Rosemary