God Talk and Tea

A toast to a New Year filled with listening

On Christmas, one of my future daughters-in-law gave me a small gift bag filled with a variety of  simple presents. What made the gifts extra special was that each one was something I had mentioned to her in our conversations the past year. She had listened. That was the real gift.

We often hear about the power of words to hurt or to heal, but in his book, The Hidden Power of Kindness, Father Lawrence G. Lovasik reminds us that kind listening, as well as kind speaking, is a grace. “Just listening to other people is a superbly effective way of encouraging them, and that is a great act of charity. This requires a willingness to be silent, to let the other person tell his own story in his own way. You (may)realize that the other person is suffering spiritual pain and that you can alleviate that pain only by listening quietly and compassionately. Such listening becomes an exquisite expression of love.”

Here’s to a New Year filled with the grace of kind listening.

Lessons from the Skateasaurus

Every fall my sons will join their friends for a weekend camping trip. They’ve been doing this for years, and, inevitably, come home with some really funny stories. One of the funniest was recounted by a young man who had once worked as the Skateasaurus.

I’m not sure how many roller skating rinks are home to the Skateasaurus Rex, but at the rink in my neighborhood this popular attraction amazed children and adults alike with his dexterity on roller skates, in spite of his oversized, protruding green head.

Some children would follow him like a shadow, seemingly awestruck by his mere presence. Others would try to hang on to his leg as he skated around the rink, high-fiving the guests. Still others remained wary, and kept a safe distance from his imposing figure.

Then one day the unthinkable happened. Perhaps it was a little too much self-assurance that drove the Skateasaurus into some fancy skating maneuvers and ultimately toppled him off balance and sent him to the floor – and his head to the other end of the rink.

Pandemonium ensued. Children were screaming. The revelation that Skatesaurus was not who he seemed to be was more than some children could handle. It was like a contemporary rewrite of the scene from the Wizard of Oz when the Wizard entreats his visitors to “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!”  Fortunately, Dorothy and friends discover the Wizard is just an ordinary man pretending to be extraordinary.

We all know people like that, or maybe we are people like that, afraid to be authentic.  Can you imagine the chaos if, at the next staff meeting or family gathering, all of our heads fell off and the real us was exposed?

It could be cause for screaming, or it could be very refreshing!

Remembering Claire

If Claire were here she would say that sometimes being remembered is all that’s needed to die well.

Claire was an elderly patient in a local nursing home when Hospice was called in on her case. Her husband had died a few years earlier and her only remaining relatives – her mother and aunt – lived eight hours away and were too sick to visit. Claire was, essentially, alone – and dying.

When Barbara, the Hospice volunteer coordinator, made her first visit to Claire she explained that volunteers would stop by on a daily basis just to visit and offer companionship. With that, Claire began to cry. Concerned, Barbara asked if the idea of having visitors disturbed her.

Claire shook her head and spoke through broken sobs, saying, “I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid that I will die and no one will know that I’ve lived.”

Claire’s pain at the thought of being forgotten tugged mightily on the heart strings of the Hospice team undertaking her care, so extra effort was expended to make sure that as many volunteers as possible would visit the gentle woman every day. In addition, nurses, chaplains, and, of course, Barbara, made it a point to drop in whenever they were in the neighborhood, and it seemed they were in the neighborhood more often than usual.

Claire smiled a lot, and her smile, agreed her Hospice “family,” was something very special.

As Claire grew weaker and weaker, her death being imminent, Barbara began to schedule the “light brigade” – a steady stream of volunteers who each spend a period of time with a patient to ensure that they are never alone as they journey toward death.

Audrey was a new volunteer and first-time “light brigader” when she began to visit Claire at the nursing home. Since Audrey and Claire were both of the same faith, Audrey thought it might be comforting to say some prayers. As she began reciting them, she realized she had forgotten most of the words. But the prayers jogged her memory of childhood days and brought back the melodies and words of some favorite hymns.

Bending close to Claire’s ear, Audrey began to sing softly. Though Claire was nearlycomatose, an engaging smile spread across her face. Cupping Claire’s face softly between her hands, Audrey said slowly and lovingly so Claire could hear, “You have the most beautiful smile. I will never forget you as long as I live.”

With those words, Claire died peacefully.

Embracing the sacred gift of intuition

"How did you know that?"  It was a question my sons asked of me often, continually surprised at how I knew things they had worked hard at hiding from me.

“Moms know everything,” was my pat answer, and for the most part, when mothers give credence to their intuition, they discover they are aware of more than they, or anyone else, thinks they are. In addition to intuition, I often found that information just fell into my lap when I most needed it – like the hospital bill that inadvertently came to my home for one of my sons who had been injured while at college. He gave the hospital his school address, but it came to me none-the-less. I like to attribute it to a guardian angel who is always on her toes!

In reality, all of us are born with an intuitive sense. For some, it is always a powerful sense that can be both a gift and a challenge. For others, the sense gets lost, or the rational mind takes precedence and buries intuition.

Fortunately, for me, my father was a firm believer in the power of intuition and the subconscious mind, and he nurtured the tools that would allow me to develop my intuitive sense. Most importantly, he encouraged me to embrace silence, to develop inner calm and focus, and to live in the moment.  The process has been a fruitful one, but certainly one filled with challenges. High on the list is the tendency of human nature to become lazy, to be critical of oneself and others, and to run from truth when it is difficult to face.

For Thomas Merton, monk, mystic and teacher, the theme of intuition was a thread woven through his spiritual writings. He encouraged the development of intuition as a means for students to come to a fuller awareness of their existence and of their being grounded in the being of God.

And yet, as we move into another new year, it is the thought of a scientist, Albert Einstein,  that comes to mind. “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.”

 Image is from http://ministryofthearts.org

The only gift that matters is love

In a rare stretch outside my comfort zone, I went to the mall, on a Saturday, in the height of   Christmas shopping frenzy. Within the first five minutes of navigating one of the larger anchor stores, I remembered all too clearly why I rarely shop in a mall, most especially during the Christmas season.

Sensory overload is enough to short out brain circuits, and I’m convinced it adds to the all too prevalent ill-humor and bad manners of shoppers. Too many people, too much stuff and the overbearing pressure to buy, Buy, BUY, can choke the life out of a person, and no where do I feel that more than in the women’s pocketbook department.

On this particular shopping trip, amid a sea of leather and suede with price tags often matching the weekly salary of the average citizen, I felt a new appreciation for the adage, "Gone to hell in a handbag."

Hundreds of purses in various sizes, shapes and colors made choosing one small gift a near impossibility and seemed more the mirror of excess reflected throughout a store jammed with merchandise. With just a few days left until Christmas the air among shoppers was one of urgency and aggravation; something certainly antithetical to the expectant waiting and joy that Christians should find during Advent.

Since my cynicism was threatening to snuff out my Christmas spirit, I decided no sale was worth selling my soul. Home, a warm cup of tea and my favorite hymns would be the antidote. I wasn’t expecting a touching email from one of my sons to help put everything back in perspective.

He, like so many, is struggling with the very challenging economic times, and the pressure to maintain the cultural standard of Christmas is taking a toll on him. He wrote, "I know that this holiday season has been the most stressful one for me ever and I am going to assume the same is true for you. I know you like to get nice gifts for everyone and you always seem to do it somehow— frankly its a mystery to me— but I don't know how you'll pull it off this year. So I don't want you to feel obligated to spend more than you should or more than you can. Don't feel bad if you can't get me (or anyone else) what you really wanted. This year, don't worry about gifts. Take comfort in knowing that we'll all understand and that we don't expect much anyway. I think I speak for all the boys when I say that we enjoy Christmas morning for the spirit of the day; the company and the love of one another. No matter how many gifts are under your tree, it's the celebration that we all enjoy most."

His touching message brought to mind the simple nativity set that sits on our front lawn, reminding me that the spirit of Christmas rests with the Holy Family, the embodiment of God’s love for us. Christmas is about relationship: God and us, Mary and Joseph, Jesus and the whole world. Even the story of the magi is about their need to be in relationship with the savior of the world. Their gifts were mere expressions of that desire. Somehow we have allowed the focus on gifts to become a distraction from the profound meaning of the celebration—God’s desire to be in relationship with us, becoming one of us within the womb of family.

For many, this Christmas may be a different sort of Christmas. Whether it is a simplicity forced upon us by economic hardship, or a refocusing on the gift of relationship as we find "family" among our friends or sit vigil in a hospital room, we can be comforted by keeping the image of the Nativity in our hearts.

More than just a tender greeting card image, the Holy Family leads us back to the only gift that matters—Love.

 Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.

Attributed to seven year old child 

 

 

The Gift of Evelyn's Bread

Evelyn had a special gift. She loved to bake bread.

Whenever someone would come to visit, Evelyn would treat her guest to a full pot of hot tea and warm homemade bread with cranberry butter. When the parish had a bake sale, Evelyn would arrive with her arms loaded with freshly bake loaves.

When someone was sick at home, Evelyn would visit, always certain to bring a loaf to serve and a loaf to freeze. For some, this gift might seem inconsequential when compared to the gift of preaching or healing. But no gift is too small to put at the service of God. The preaching and healing that took place through the expression of love that was Evelyn’s bread would be remembered long past many a homily. It might be said that Evelyn’s bread making was a by-product of her true gift of a generous spirit.

 God has been generous with us, as he was with Evelyn, giving each of us our own unique gifts and talents, expecting that we would share those gifts with others for the purpose of building the Body of Christ. During the coming week you might like to reflect on the following questions: Am I aware of the gifts God has given me? Do I use these gifts to lead others to God in my family, my parish or my community? Do I sense there may be gifts I have not yet discovered? How might I allow the Spirit to uncover those gifts in me?

 Written by Mary Morrell

Copyright © RENEW International

ARISE Together in Christ Family Faith Bulletins

The weed tree and the street sign

 During an amazing family drive across country from New Jersey to Montana many years ago, we   were often spellbound by the magnificence of creation. At once, both complex and elegant in its simplicity, creation reflected the nature of its Creator – unlimited generosity, love and potential. The palette of living color and form we discovered at every turn seemed to us the efforts of God continually gifting God’s beloved children.

 Today, back at home, as I reflect on the weed tree that has managed to grow up between the cracks of cement and into the narrow metal track of a street sign over which it now casts a shadow, I am reminded again of the potential of life, and, therefore, of each of God’s children. As apples falling from God’s tree, we are each endowed with God’s potential and creative nature.

 Sadly, for innumerable reasons, many of us forget our divine inheritance. Our potential goes unmet, even, unrecognized. Our creative nature is often sublimated, but like the tree in the street sign, will struggle to break out in one way or another. Without that opportunity for release, we may find ourselves being strangled by the very life that seeks expression.

We are meant to live our divine nature, to live in communion with our God and each other. Our lives, and our world, would be released from bondage if we could recover our sense of being sacred and develop an awareness that wholeness and holiness are one and the same.  

 

Image Source Page: http://www.greenchicafe.com/tree-art-in-australia

Hey, there's a goose in my manger!

Pulling in to my driveway yesterday, I noticed something different about the Nativity scene on the   front lawn. As I got closer, I realized someone had added a ceramic goose to the small group of animals looking in on Mary and Joseph. I smiled, and thought, “Why not?” There are geese in Bethlehem, and why should sheep, donkeys and camels be the only ones blessed with such a privilege?

 Considering the intuitive nature of animals, it’s likely hosts of angels weren’t the only ones gathering that evening. It’s possible the manger was visited by geese, deer, badgers, porcupines, bats, hyenas, leopards, even sand rats. The Son of God would surely welcome animals of all sizes, shapes, and natures.

 We owe the Nativity tradition to St. Francis of Assisi who, in 1224, planned a “living” recreation of the birth of Jesus to fill the local villagers with the spirit of Christmas. With real people dressed in robes and real animals gathered outside a cave on the outskirts of town, St. Francis urged the people to remove hatred from their hearts and rejoice in the season of Christ’s birth.

Along with his living nativity scene, Saint Francis also used music to teach his congregation about the birth of Jesus Christ. Tradition credits St. Francis with adding religious lyrics to popular tunes and creating the first Christmas carols.

 Maybe I should move my garden statue of St. Francis a little bit closer to the Nativity.

"The belief that the animal creation worships at the season of Christ's birth is familiar and widespread; only those who can see ghosts at Christmas have the power of hearing the cattle, sheep, and horses talk, as they do talk at this holy season." Ruth Firor, Folkways in Thomas Hardy

      The Oxen

   Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come; see the oxen kneel,

"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so’

Thomas Hardy

If price is no object ....!

Looking for a unique Christmas gift this year? What about a leaf from the first edition, first printing   of the first book every printed – the 1455 Gutenberg Bible. A complete Gutenberg Bible may cost you a whopping $100 million, but for the more frugal gift-giver, a single leaf will only run from $95,000 -- $195,000, depending on which section of the Bible it is from. That cost includes a lovely leather presentation portfolio!

 How do I know this, you may ask? Web research, of course.

 You see, years ago I purchased a magnificent, though water damaged, Bible in a little antique store in Lavalette. The owner routinely set aside many of the religious articles that came in so I could have first dibs. The Bible had been part of an estate, but with large brass clasps and weighing in at more than 14 pounds, this amazing book seemed more appropriate to a church than a family. Even with the damage, just the Bible’s 600 illustrations, including what I believe to be full page Gustave Doré engravings displaying scenes from the Bible, made the book an inspired purchase.

 This year I decided to sell the Bible, which truly deserves a home with someone who can afford to restore it, if possible, to its original beauty. While researching its history so I could set a price, I discovered that if I had found a Gutenberg in that antique store, I would have been set for life, and could have made lots of donations to my favorite charities!

In comparison, my Bible is a bargain.

This huge leather bound Holy Bible titled Browns Self-Interpreting Holy Bible  was published by  American Publishing Company, New York in 1873, and edited by Rev. Henry Cooke, D.D., LL.D. Its two brass clasps are intact and working. Weighing over 14 pounds, it features a deeply embossed and ornately gilded leather exterior.

 Its front cover and several of the first pages have come off and the book will need to have its binding repaired or replaced. For the most part the leaves are clean inside, though some pages do display water stains at the bottom of the pages. This enormous volume consists of more than 1400  pages plus additional appendices. Between the Old and the New Testaments, there are blank family record pages: a Marriage Certificate, a Family Birth Record and a Family Death Record, and in the back, pockets for Family Photographs.

 The Bible contains 600 engravings, (including what research indicates are full page Gustave Doré engravings), and numerous steel plates displaying scenes from the Bible, protected by tissue guards. This magnificent edition of John Brown’s Bible deserves a home with a Bible collector who could invest in its restoration.

 The price for this beautiful Bible is $225. Please contact me at mary.wellspring@yahoo.com if you are interested.

In Heaven, there are no ho-hum people

Like so many people of my age, I have spent a lot of time in hospitals, not just as a patient but as a visitor. In those times I have never failed to learn something, either about myself or about life, in general.

One memorable lesson happened while visiting my 86 year old mother-in-law who had gone to the hospital with a heart problem and ended up with a broken hip after falling out of bed. While the nurse was trying to make her comfortable, I heard a booming voice coming from a room down the hall.

“You know what the doctor said to me?! He said everyone should be as healthy as I am. I’m 80 years old. Can you believe it; 80 years old, and look at me!”

A little while later, while pacing the hallway, I heard the same voice bellowing from behind me, “You know what the doctor said to me?! Everyone should be as healthy as I am. Guess how old I am! I’m 80 years old. Blood pressure’s good. Cholesterol’s good. Just have to lose five pounds. Everyone should be as healthy as me!”

By then, I had turned around to find the person behind the voice and saw an elderly gentleman in jeans and sneakers talking to a nurse who was nonchalantly trying to make her escape.

I also saw a few patients in nearby rooms shooting him some questionable glances, and it dawned on me that his proclamations of health could be unsettling to those patients who were ill, incapacitated, or facing a difficult transition to a nursing home. In all these cases, the suffering would not just be physical, but emotional as well, with each patient having to come to grips with an aspect of surrendering to age. Unlike the spry 80 year old in the hallway, they were forced to give up some, or full, control of their lives.

But sometimes there are those who have learned that accepting the reality of change or suffering or surrender, while usually painful, is also a means for growth; like Sylvia, the 92 year old amputee who I met in one of my hospital stays. With a portable oxygen tank hooked to her wheelchair, she would often slip into my room to check on me, to offer words of comfort or just to “shoot the breeze.” This woman was anything but healthy but she could light up a room in an instant with her smile and her attitude.

She never talked about her health, unless someone asked, but loved to share her memories. Nurses had to stop her from trying to get on the elevator to go down to the snack bar. One of her favorite quips was, “if diamonds are made under pressure than I’m a 10 carat at least!” And that was the truth!

While she hadn’t overcome her illness in the sense of being healed physically, she had overcome her suffering by accepting its reality, moving forward and embracing the blessing that is life.

Famous American author, Hellen Keller, who was also the first deaf and blind person to graduate from college, once wrote, “Although the world is full of suffering it is full also of the overcoming of it.”

When I think of all the amazing people who have influenced my life I realize how many of them, including my parents, had been people determined to overcome their struggles and their suffering.

I imagine that without the struggles we would be a ho-hum people – pain free, perhaps, but certainly not wise or compassionate or, even, interesting.

The painful realities of life ensure that, in Heaven, there are no ho-hum people, but rather, people who, through the power of faith in God, moved through times of suffering with hope in the resurrection; people who, like Sylvia, discovered that new life happens, not just with birth or death, but with every waking moment.