Simply Soul Searching
HOW IS GOD LOVING ME – AND WHERE IS GOD LEADING ME?
A PICTURE AND A POEM: LEAVES
I stand beneath the cooling shade
of a verdant canopy;
I look up to the heavens
and feel you here with me.
Sunlight shining through the leaves
creates a grand cathedral.
No temple made by human hands
could ever be your equal.
May I absorb your love’s pure light
and become, much like the leaves,
a quiet sanctuary,
where one can live and grow and breathe.
(Photo by Karen)
THOSE FUTILE GRUDGES (AND AREN’T THEY ALL?)
When Jim and I first moved to this area, we noticed a sign posted on a lawn along the main street of our new town. We couldn’t read all the words as we drove by, but we gathered that these folks were angry because something had been stolen from their property. Eventually the sign was removed, but it was replaced by an electronic messaging board mounted to the side of their house. Angry and accusatory messages have continued to stream across it for several years now.
I don’t know these neighbors or their full story, but their long-held grudge and sign seem futile and even silly to me. The sign can’t be readily seen by any passing vehicles, so it mostly serves as a constant, negative reminder for the people who live there. Since nothing has been resolved after all this time, whomever this sign is targeting must be unphased (and perhaps even amused) by the angry words scrolling across the screen. The neighbors’ anger may be justified, but the grudge they carry probably burdens them more than the initial injustice, hurts them more than those who are being accused.
Our anger can be righteous and healthy when it prompts us to act for justice, resolve problems, restore broken relationships, or defend ourselves and others from harm. But if we let our anger simmer into a resentment or grudge, it serves no purpose for good and will only weigh us down (and often, no one else).
As always, this story holds lessons for me. When has my anger become a grudge instead of a good? Today I hope to be more mindful of using my anger for its better purposes. May I seek to turn my frustration into helpful action, my irritation into genuine communication, my inner hurt into gracious forgiveness. May I not continue to complain, whine, resent, or begrudge, but instead, begin to work toward a better answer, a peaceful resolution.
May I also learn to take whatever is left unresolved and entrust it to God.
Giving up the grudge…
Lovingly letting go…
And fully feeling the freedom.
(Photo by Karen, who took a long walk to read the sign. 😏)
A PICTURE AND A POEM: UPON TURNING 67
There is a precious synergy
between my awareness of passing years
and my deepening gratitude for life.
There is a tender vulnerability
that leads to a wider spectrum
of compassionate tears and blissful joy.
There is a gracious enigma
in that my body often feels weary and worn
while my mind remains youthful and curious.
There is an extraordinary beauty
found in the smallest acts of kindness,
both shared and received to make life lovely.
There is a treasured spaciousness
in my heart, from having less and loving more;
in my soul, from doing less and being more.
There is a hopeful wisdom
that has grown through every heartache and trial
because of every eventual resurrection.
There is a sacred reverence
in regarding all of creation as a sanctuary
in which God is present in soil, sea, sky – and soul.
There is a peaceful serenity
in trusting that I am incomplete and yet enough,
that my worth does not come from achievement.
There is a delightful humility
in finding that my increased understanding of God
has only deepened the mystery of God.
There is a gentle comfort
in knowing that my love will remain beyond my life,
and my life will remain beyond all time.
(Photo: Grammy Karen welcoming my most recent grandchild!)
LIMITING GOD’S LOVE
Years ago, the ELCA churches in northwest Ohio united for an event in which volunteers hiked or biked from one church to the next. The event was intended to foster connections between the churches as we prayed for one another and for our communities while we traveled. I was part of the organizing team, and I wrote a prayer for the pastor or church leader to pray at each stop along the way.
In this prayer, I included the sentence, “God, thank you for loving us.” As the day progressed, I noticed that a few ministry leaders paused or looked uncomfortable as they said these words. One pastor eliminated it completely. This was perplexing to me. Why wouldn’t we be grateful for the love of God?
This memory came back to me recently and inspired some reflection…
If we trust that God IS love–an infinite source of life and love beyond our comprehension–maybe we differ according to our personal experience, perception, or understanding of what love is. We constrain God’s love to our own limited understanding. We may regard love either as merited or freely given… as demanding or gracious… as merciful or punitive… as universal or particular for a chosen few. Much of our understanding comes from the way we were taught or shown God’s love through our parents, mentors, churches, and cultures. Maybe these event leaders were concerned about the possible stances we may have taken when praying those words.
For example, we might have prayed, “Thank you, God, for loving us…” while feeling justified, righteous, or superior (…more than others). We may have felt unworthy or embarrassed to pray (…but I don’t really believe you can love me). Our circumstances may have caused us to be angry or ungrateful with God (…but I am only praying this because everyone else is). Some of us may have felt we were not loved at all (silence).
How blessed we are that God’s love is not dependent on our worthiness or our feelings. As we keep deepening in love for God and of God, may we learn to trust that we are loved in every way:
Even, despite, always, because, anyway.
Beautifully, abundantly, kindly, joyfully.
Gracefully, mercifully, humbly, instructively.
Beyond, above, below, within, throughout.
Immeasurably.
Completely.
Eternally.
Thank you, God, for loving us.
(Photo by Karen)
A PICTURE AND A POEM: A CLOSER LOOK
You fill this world with beauty,
your creation brings delight,
and all around me I can see
your power and your might
in the grandeur of the ocean,
the sky’s enormity,
the majesty of mountaintops,
the strength in every tree.
Yet I can often overlook
(in my ordinary days)
how your greatness still surrounds me
in small and lovely ways.
But when I pay attention,
I find your simple gifts
are gathered near to greet me,
to bless and to uplift.
Your grandeur’s right beside me.
There are miracles held inside
each tiny bud and bloom and branch;
your presence does abide.
All creation seems to sing
of your awe and majesty,
so I join in the chorus
as I feel you here with me.
Sometimes I try to find you, God
in places far away
yet you’re not in distant heaven
but you’re here with me, today.
You’re with me in creation,
with your Spirit in my soul;
I find you in everyone
who makes our world more whole.
So with this new perspective
that there’s more than meets the eye,
help me take a closer look
as life is passing by.
May I find you in the fauna,
the flora and the stranger,
in the friendship, in the love,
and the baby in the manger.
Let me take a deeper look
at your creative power
found in every fellow human
and every fragile flower.
And I can share a portion
of your love that’s limitless
through caring words, in kindness shown,
and humble acts that bless.
(Photos by Karen)
ANOTHER PRAYER FROM A STRANGER
My friend Debbie and I were chatting over cups of coffee when the topic of prayer came up. She mentioned my recent post* about my annoyance when a stranger stopped to bless me, and then asked a thought-provoking question:
“What would have made the blessing easier for you to receive?”
I immediately recalled another time, eight years ago…
My daughter Angie and I were shopping for groceries when a petite, dark-haired woman approached us and timidly asked, “Would it be alright if I prayed for you?”
She could see that I was undergoing treatment for cancer, since I was wearing my chemo cap and mask. The kind woman shyly explained that she normally would never do this, but an overwhelming feeling had prompted her to ask. I noticed her discomfort, but I also saw her humble and earnest desire to bless me. I willingly accepted.
So, in the middle of the produce section, we held hands and she quietly prayed for me. I don’t recall her words, but I vividly remember the feeling. She seemed like an angel, and the moment became sacred as our connection deepened beyond the two of us. Her gentle presence and her heartfelt concern left me glowing as we went on our way. I felt truly and genuinely blessed.
My blessing at the park was audibly proclaimed through a courageous loudspeaker.
My blessing at the grocery store was quietly transmitted through a humble conduit.
I trust that God loves us beyond our limited understanding, beyond our human prayers. But if our intention is to truly bless others, it seems that we should first be attentive to them. Our prayers might be better received if they come from a spirit of grace and humility, and from thoughtful care for another’s hopes, needs, and comfort level. A genuine blessing will avoid assumptions and confrontations and instead, await discernments and invitations.
A blessing truly blesses when we can help someone feel uplifted by our encounter–and assured of God’s love through our sensitive and caring presence. I will always tenderly remember the stranger who did this for me.
*https://simplysoulsearching.com/2023/05/21/i-dont-know-how-all-of-this-works/
Photo by Fikri Rasyid on Unsplash. Thank you.
A PICTURE AND A POEM: WILDERNESS
As I travel on life’s journey
(maps and schedules in my hand),
most days go as expected,
well-organized and planned.
But when I encounter detours,
or life becomes a mess,
or the road just stops before me,
I feel the wilderness.
I think of you, then, Jesus,
for you entered and endured
the wilderness before you,
both tested yet secured.
Please give me fresh perspective
in this dry and weary land,
for in these lost and lonely times
I trust you’re close at hand.
Where I see desolation,
show me simplicity,
and let the barrenness become
a spaciousness so free.
Where there is utter silence,
speak your tranquility,
and in the vast, unending sky
reveal eternity.
When the wolf howls in the night
(and I cry softly, too),
please take away my fears and tears
as only you can do.
I know I’m never homeless,
nor lost, nor all alone
for you’re with me in this wilderness;
you’ve made your presence known.
I may call myself a nomad,
but yet I keep in mind
that we journey on together,
one small step at a time.
And like your servant Abram,
each time I stop to rest,
I will place another altar
in humble thankfulness.
Photo by Brandon Hoogenboom on Unsplash
I DON’T KNOW HOW ALL OF THIS WORKS
I was walking at Valley Park with my usual slight limp that has developed over the years (the pain in my hip is from my crooked spine and the usual aches of aging). As I strolled around the pond, I smiled and greeted an older gentleman passing by. We walked on, but then he suddenly stopped and called back, “Ma’am?” When I turned around, he raised his hand and proclaimed, “I bless you in the name of God that the demon causing your discomfort be removed from you.” I graciously thanked him and went on my way.
If I stopped here, this story would remain a tale of kindness from a stranger along my path.
But here’s the thing…
Even as I appreciated his concern, I resented his action. My judgmental spirit was annoyed that he interrupted me, that he presumed he could bless me without knowing me or my story. My indignant soul was irritated that he called the reason for my pain a “demon.” My inner skeptic was doubtful, because even as I know that prayer can be powerful, it seemed as if his prayer was more about his glory than my healing. After all, I know that my hip is physically impaired and will need more than prayer to remedy.
And here’s the next thing…
When I headed on down the path, my hip actually began to feel better.
And here’s the honest and ugly and (I hope) humorous thing…
I continued to limp. I didn’t want him to believe that his blessing somehow worked. I didn’t want to encourage his presumptuous behavior, nor did I want him to have a mistaken testimony.
And here’s the rest of the story…
As I continued to reflect on this incident, my thoughts moved from my hurting hip to my broken self. I sensed God revealing new and humbling insights. Was my relief simply from endorphins sparked by his blessing? Or could I remain pain free if I truly believed in his prayer? Did he have a genuine charism that guided his actions and insights? Was I too easily defensive? Should I open my heart and soul to healing and mystery more often? How much more could I have blessed him if I had admitted, “I think you may have helped”? How often do my pride and obstinance hinder me from receiving or blessing others?
Chastened, I continued around the soccer field and considered the variety of ways that healing can happen. Perhaps the blessing didn’t heal my hip, but it may have healed some of my prideful spirit. Perhaps I didn’t bring as much joy as I might have, but the gentleman may have been healed by my smile and words of gratitude. Perhaps his courage to proclaim the blessing fulfilled and healed a need of his own. Perhaps my skepticism had been healed by an invitation to greater mystery.
Perhaps more healing had taken place than I initially imagined.
That’s when I found this necklace, with a cross and a pendant that looks like the world. Hanging it on the fence post so someone may find it more easily, I thought to myself…
I don’t know how all of this works, but I do know that God is at work in all of this.
(Photo by Karen)
A PICTURE AND A POEM: BRIDGE
I AM A BRIDGE…
Before the green tangle
of the vines and the brush,
there was a time
when students would rush
over the creek to their school each day.
And I was their bridge
built sturdy and strong;
the passage to follow
as they walked along,
laughing and talking while going their way.
Then–a roadway, a fence
around the school ground…
soon life became quiet;
a new route was found.
My role as a bridge was suddenly finished.
The students then walked
in a different direction;
I no longer served
as their useful connection.
I was a bridge, but my purpose diminished.
The chatter is now
a quieter hush
of critters and insects,
and the soft gentle rush
of the wandering stream as it passes beneath.
Although it is true
that I’m covered with vines,
and now rusted and worn
from the passage of time,
I’m still the same bridge that lies underneath.
My mission has changed,
but I’m blessed to know
I’m providing a trellis
for new life to grow.
My purpose may differ, but my essence remains.
I’m now a connection
between earth and sky,
a place for a rest
as birds learn to fly,
for vines to reach upward and sunlight obtain.
The years will keep passing,
and I may keep fading,
but if I can be helpful
without hesitating
to serve yet another, I’ll not be defeated.
Through every season
of life, I’m connecting
one to another,
supporting, protecting.
I may be old, but I am still needed.
We should be in constant evolution and adapt to the new without ever losing our essence or our integrity.
~ Pedro Capo
(Photos by Karen)
THE HEART OF A SPRINGTIME GARDENER
We have a large, often unsightly drainage basin across from our house. Two years ago, as our neighborhood community considered using chemicals to reduce the weeds and foliage, I asked if I could plant flowers instead. I had recently seen a few rain gardens while staying at a spiritual retreat center, and I wondered if this wet basin could serve as one, too. Everyone graciously agreed, and three of the men offered to mow the grassy rim and trim the sides while I maintained the bottom of the basin.
During my not-too-thorough research, I learned that blue flag irises like very wet soil and will quickly spread. I soon began envisioning a big bowl of beautiful blue-purple irises right outside our door! I ordered the seeds and scattered them as best I could in the muddy bottom.
The irises can take at least a year to mature and fully flower, so when we had no blooms last year I was not discouraged. This year, I have been watching for any thin reedy stems or other signs that even a few have taken root. I have yet to see any irises, but my hope remains that they just need a little more time, that one day, a few will bloom. If there are no blooms next spring, I will try a different flower.
In my watching and waiting, I have gleaned another insight:
I may never find a blue flag iris, but I have found the joyful heart of a springtime gardener.
The springtime gardener…
~ plants seeds of promise and potential
~ envisions the future with hope
~ stewards, protects, and enhances the beauty of creation
~ sows good seed today without needing a guaranteed harvest tomorrow
~ is not intimidated by the possibility of failure
~ savors the work itself, the purpose of the moment
~ remembers the greater intention behind each small action
~ notices the gracious supply of God when personal efforts fail (notice the white wildflowers on the left).
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could keep the heart of a springtime gardener for all the seasons of life?
Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant. — Robert Louis Stevenson
(Photo by Karen)
Simply Soul Searching 