A Collect for Beloved Children of God

God of tears,
who is troubled by the death
of every sparrow,
how you must be grieving now.

One hundred fifty girls dead,
your children,
our children,
killed by others who are also beloved by you,
also your children,
with mothers and fathers and families of their own.

I say I want to love as you love, but my heart is
breaking.
Yes, I do want to love as you love;
help me.

Help me.

Keep me from the callousness
that cannot grieve, and yet show me
how to bear up in a world that seems to
hunger and thirst
for hate and blood and death.

Help me
to remember that there is no one
not made in your image, no one
who does not bear
your divine light within.

Give me eyes to see,
even when I don’t want
to look.

Merciful God, abide
in this desert with us.

Small, Happy Moments

As we daily see more and more cruelty in the world around us, and especially within our own country, and add to that the stress of a major winter storm, I found myself earlier this week genuinely afraid. I’m not one who is prone to fear, but it all was feeling overwhelming.

Ironically, I got to spend time with some sixth graders yesterday, sharing ways to use breath and movements to reduce anxiety! It was just what I needed, both the experience of teaching (which I love) and the practice of things I know, but had failed to employ for my own benefit.

I could tell the effect of the practices on myself, because by the time I left the school, my whole outlook had changed. I was lighter, calmer, and more energetic than I’d been in several days.

The icing on the cake came when I received the package of things I’d ordered to help me get through the coming winter storm. Batteries, thermometers for the fridge and freezer, and a phone charger block, were good to have, but there was one thing that made me laugh out loud with delight. It was the blue enameled cast iron pot I bought so I could cook on my propane grill!

When I opened the box and saw it, I was filled with happiness! The color, the size, the weight—all of it was just right. The world hadn’t changed. Fresh cruelty came across my news feed and the winter storm is still on the way, but the combination of breathing practices to reduce stress and a cheery blue one-quart pot was just the recipe for changing my ability to cope with it all.

Mary Oliver, one of my favorite poets, shares wise words in her prose-poem “Don’t Hesitate”:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything. . . whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

In the midst of much that is terrible, I hope you’ll be alert for small, happy moments. Every time we give in to joy, we fight back some of the darkness.

Waiting for Christmas Carols

Maybe it’s because I spent many an Advent waiting for something to be different, or maybe it’s just that I’m a bit of a liturgical nerd, but Advent is such a meaningful season for me, and one of my Advent practices is to listen, not to Christmas music, but to Advent music. I have an Advent playlist that someone else curated but that I have copied into my own music service provider. The songs speak of the need for a redeemer, of waiting, of darkness, of hope, and of preparation. The songs come from a variety of sources, but the themes of Advent are woven through them.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas music, but waiting for it until it is actually Christmas makes listening to it that much more special. When you consider that Christmas candy and decorations have been in the stores since before Halloween, it’s an act of resistance to not listen to Christmas music until Christmas Eve! And it’s not like I shut it out altogether. I sing it at church or when caroling, and I hear it when I’m in any store. I do love Christmas carols, and I savor the singing of them. It’s just that I appreciate the story that Advent music tells.

Advent holds powerful memories for me, memories of such deep longing for life to be different, for ridicule and loneliness to not be such a prominent part of my life. The scriptures of Advent, in speaking of hope and waiting and light shining in darkness spoke to my heart when I was waiting in my own difficult circumstances. I held them as treasure as I sat in the early morning dark with the Advent wreath lit before the house awoke for the day. I dared to hope in those hours before daylight.

I am grateful that my life is different now, but every Advent that rolls around reminds me of those years of longing in the darkness and I think of others who are in situations where they struggle to hope that things can change, that life can be different, that a savior is coming because God loves them and does not leave them alone. My Advent playlist reminds me that there is still a need for a savior, that the baby born in Bethlehem continues to matter to many who need a reason to hope.

There will be plenty of time for Christmas carols, and like the light, they will break into the season of Advent in various ways and places. But I, for one, will wait to play them, and instead, will play songs about waiting and preparation and the light that is coming. If you are interested in what I’m listening to, here’s a link to the playlist.

Food Blessing Me

Local beef and veggies--the sourdough didn't make it into the photo!

Since moving to North Carolina in June, I have had the good fortune to become acquainted with many people. I’m grateful for friends I’ve made through church, through reconnecting with Young Harris College, and several groups I’m participating in. As an introvert, I knew I would need to find points of connection and that it would require me to step out of my comfort zone to meet new people and become part of a new community.

One of the great joys and surprises has been getting to know local people who are providing much of my food. I found a local farm offering CSA shares and most of my vegetables come from Zach and Ilana, the first-generation farm couple who own Levity Farms, grow amazing food and are also just delightful people to know. While I normally pick up my weekly CSA share not far from me, it’s fun to drive the extra thirty minutes to their farm, where I’ve walked the fields to see what’s growing. They have an especially cool bamboo tunnel you walk through to get from the produce coolers to the fields!

Brasstown Beef @ Ridgefield Farm is only about fifteen minutes away. They raise cattle and sell beef. In addition to being animal welfare certified and certified pasture centered, the farm has also placed a large portion of its land into a conservation easement that protects it from being developed for housing. For a number of years, I have sought to avoid purchasing factory-farmed meat, because of the inhumane way the animals are raised. To drive by the pastures and see the cows that are able to live as they were meant to live makes me happy to purchase beef from this farm!

A young couple the next town over from me bakes the most wonderful sourdough bread! Every time I pick up a loaf from them I enjoy conversation and seeing the progress they are making on opening a storefront on the town square. I also enjoy talking with their children, who are so comfortable with all the folks dropping by to pick up bread. I’m excited to visit The Firefly Café in Hayesville, and look forward to supporting them as they build their business.

I still do make trips to the grocery store, but I relish the fact that I know where much of my food comes from, and know the people who are making it possible, and that the food and the providers are local! In addition to supporting local small businesses, I feel like every purchase I make from any of these folks is putting my own roots deeper into this community I now call home.

While many of us will be saying a blessing over our food this Thanksgiving, I can turn the table and say that my food in this new home is blessing me! To live in such close proximity with people who are providing what I eat is nourishing both to body and soul!

Celebrating Teresa of Avila

Today, October 15, is the feast day of one of my favorite saints and Christians, Teresa of Avila. A sixteenth century Carmelite nun, she was a mystic, a reformer, an influential woman in an era when that wasn’t common, a woman of strength, beauty, deep faith, and a sharp wit. She was vivacious and daring and deeply in love with God.

The first book of hers I read, over fifteen years ago, is entitled The Interior Castle. That book describes the progression of the spiritual life, using the image of a castle to teach the steps on the journey to union with God. Images from that book stay with me even today, and while she was writing for the nuns in her order, the book has remained relevant through the centuries.

Teresa was wise and witty, strong and sure in her relationship with God. Once, when a cart in which she was riding broke down in a river, she said to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!” I love that she was so intimate with God that she felt free to speak in this way!

A few years ago, as part of my commitment to a word of the year, which in that year was free, I chose Teresa to be my spiritual teacher for the year. I read everything I could that she wrote, and read books that others wrote about her. To immerse myself in her being for the year was a deeply meaningful practice, and, as part of the journey, I found this wonderful icon of her, created by Marcy Hall, which I purchased and hung on my wall to help me keep my focus on my word and on Teresa. It has this lovely quote: “Allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.”

Teresa was brought before the Spanish Inquisition, and faced both health challenges and challenges from leaders in the church to her reforms, yet she continued to work, drawing others to her, and I’m sure her joy and wit and energy were part of the reason people were attracted to her. So today, celebrate with me this strong woman of faith whose influence shaped the church for centuries to come!

We Are What We Love

I don’t remember when I was first introduced to the wisdom of Thomas Merton. I do know, however, that when I’ve become dissipated and have my mind pulled in too many directions, I can touch something of the still point in myself by reading his writings. So as the country seems to become more and more unhinged and full of hate, I picked up a book I love, A Book of Hours, which is a daily prayer book compiled of Merton’s writings. To read the writings of a contemplative who was also deeply concerned with the state of world affairs helps me to return to center. I find stability amid the turbulence around me.

I could focus on any number of quotes, but today, here is one that rings true in all seasons: 

We are what we love. If we love God, in whose image we were created, we discover ourselves in him and we cannot help being happy: we have already achieved something of the fullness of being for which we were destined in our creation. If we love everything else but God, we contradict the image born in our very essence, and we cannot help being unhappy, because we are living a caricature of what we are meant to be.

God, in whose image we made, is perfect love, so if we are to live into that fullness of being that Merton speaks of, we will be people of love. We won’t be people who judge others by skin color, or by where someone is from, or by gender, or by someone’s political leanings, or by someone’s religious beliefs or lack thereof.

Have you ever noticed, when you’re busy judging someone or something, you aren’t really happy? Judgment and criticism don’t ever make us feel better. We may feel superior, but that is not the same as the deep happiness that comes from loving—loving another person, loving an animal, loving the beauty of the natural world, or simply loving life. These loves are possible because we are made in God’s image, and God is love.

The “love” of everything else that Merton speaks of is not imago dei (image of God) kind of love. It’s the love that manifests in egotism, greed, fear, cynicism, pride, and self-righteousness. These are not manifestations of love at all; rather they are the result of our settling for less than God and God’s desire for us. Why do we settle for greed when we are made for love? Why do we settle for prideful self-importance when it doesn’t truly satisfy the longing in our souls, which is for love?

To discover ourselves in God is a freedom that enables us to realize that we don’t have to grasp and cling to reputation, ego, possessions, or power. We don’t have to settle for a caricature of what we are meant to be. We can rest in the delight of God’s love and love what God loves, which is the whole creation. Living for the sake of others brings more joy than living for ourselves alone. That’s the fruit of loving God.

A Sense of Place

In June, I moved from middle Georgia to western North Carolina. I went from living in a loft apartment in downtown to living in a cabin with trees around me. I was excited to put out feeders for birds, because I expected to get more variety than I did in downtown Macon. There, I had English sparrows, house finches, and doves. The hummingbird feeder seldom had much activity but still I reveled in the occasional hummingbird visitor.

One of the first things I did when I got settled into this new place was put up bird feeders. The hummingbirds came almost instantly to the feeder I hung for them. The seed feeder languished for about two months before being visited. I thought chickadees would be the first to find it, because they seem so fearless and curious. However, goldfinches actually began using the feeder a good month before I finally saw a titmouse on it. Shortly after the titmice, I had chickadees and nuthatches. From a lifetime of feeding birds, I know those three types of birds often hang together.

Now that I have four kinds of birds using the seed feeder, I sense my presence is accepted on this little hill I share with them. I am well aware that I’m the intruder, that elements of the more-than-human world were displaced for the cabin I inhabit to be built, and even long before construction began here, Cherokee peoples were displaced by my ancestors, so I sense a strong obligation to tend and honor this little piece of land, for the sake of others who were here long before I showed up.

I don’t feel comfortable saying I own this land or this cabin. At best, I’m a temporary steward of a place that God created and others have lived in. My desire is to be a good neighbor to the trees and other plants, to the birds and other creatures, as well as a good neighbor to the people that live around me.

I have delighted in learning about the native plants and the animals that depend on them. I want to only add plants that belong here, because I am learning that the web of living things depends on so many beautiful and intricate interdependencies to survive and thrive. As much as possible, I want to support and strengthen the interdependencies, not disrupt them. To have a sense of place, the ability to love and connect with the world, and to be a good steward of all creation (including each other) matters. These are small acts done with great love and they can change the world.