Bread for the Journey

There are times in my life when I really want to do something but I just don’t have the energy. My discipline of evening prayer blog posts is something I am very committed to continuing, however my mind tonight is quite full of many things that are not cooperating with each other enough for me to focus on a topic. Therefore my prayer tonight is visual; no words.

Wherever I travel I try to bring back a rock. I used to be attracted to smooth rocks and loved to hold their heft and sleekness. Now I find beauty in rocks with rough edges. They remind me of how we all start out a bit jagged before being smoothed and shaped into unique individuals. Living with each other in community is not always easy, but over time our rough edges become smoother as we learn to live and forgive. Our children grew up in two families; our immediate and extended family and our church family. Each of these communities continue to shape who we are.

Together we can encounter God more fully and effectively than we can alone. -Matthew 18:20

Our daughter lives in a place that’s expecting snow all day tomorrow. I fondly remember days when I had great anticipation of a pending snowstorm, or really any amount of accumulation. I admit that I still love the expectancy of snow; the more the better. Maybe it’s the memory of romping in it and the possibility of reveling in it still. Maybe it’s the simple beauty; the stillness and silence. Maybe it’s because I will be enlivened to “be” and not “do”.

I am struck by the look of anticipation on the faces of the two disciples rushing to the sepulcher the morning of the resurrection. They must be full of memories of their time with Jesus. Memories that permeated every moment of their lives and linger still. Although this dear, close friend of theirs is no longer with them physically, he emits a silent presence that lingers into the night.

Why are we so petrified by silence? Presumably because we think nothing happens in silence. Silence is void, emptiness, blank space. But music’s metrical waves extend even through silence. We can sense them even when there is no music…These silences sound charged because of the memory of what has been and the anticipation of what will be, so we are pulled in and held in. Even in the most numbing of silences, when God’s absence seems most deadening, the raising of the crucified Jesus from the dead sends a wave arcing through the silence to resurrection day, and by the Spirit we can catch it and sense it – and the silence can live. ~Jeremy Begbie

I attended a beautiful concert last night in the sacred space of the Cathedral Basilica. Tenebrae sang a poignant piece called Path of Miracles, written by Jody Talbot about the Pilgrimage to Santiago. Along the way hundreds of thousands of travelers experience many hardships and discomforts.

You have left behind the life you lived before…Dates become meaningless; a day is merely the passing of the sun from one hand to the other, from behind you to in front…Then you slough off your worries. There is only one thing to worry about now and that is whether you and your feet will last the day. ~Andrea Kirby

As I listened to the concert in the vast darkness lit by candles, I could imagine the people and what draws them to this path. Parts of the music initially are filled with discordant notes depicting lament and desolation. Throughout the piece is a constant, rhythmic walking pulse. About halfway through the long journey the steps become less heavy, and the music bursts into joy as the destination appears. Yet our journey continues.

Changed by the journey, face and soul alike. ~Robert Dickinson

The sun that shines within me is my joy, and God is my guide. Anon 13th c.

Today I led a Lenten prayer retreat with one of our pastors. A church member, who is a talented musician, played several different flutes for about fifteen minutes during our retreat. This was not a performance; it was a time of prayer. Participants closed their eyes as they prayed and listened for how God spoke to them through the music. It was wonderful to hear the live music; especially to hear the breathing and nuances. We also added visual arts to the room including items from nature; rocks, branches and flowers. Participants were invited to gaze and pray with a chosen piece.

I am grateful for those who share their gifts so others can see, listen and pray. If you are an artist or a musician, you don’t usually know what an impact you have on those who see your art or hear your music. We all have gifts that, when shared, touch each other.

Our son surprised us and drove in from college much earlier than expected, waking us up at 3:00 a.m. this morning. We are so excited he’s home, and I’m especially happy to have somewhat “time-warped” over the anxiety felt when someone you love is driving a long distance. Needless to say, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I baked gooey butter cake. While waiting for it to bake, I set a comfortable chair in front of an east-facing window and waited for the sun to rise. First, a fragment of sky turned pink; then, larger swaths emerged in shades of purple. It amazes me how quickly the sky transforms; second by second. Then it “dawned” on me…

Two disciples traveling on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize the risen Jesus until later when he was no longer with them. It seems as if they also had a “moment” when it dawned on them. I am surrounded by such beautiful moments each day. If I am not attentive, I could miss out on them, too.

I looked out the kitchen window and there they were! I can always count on chives to appear every year even if they become dormant. There is a sense of comfort in knowing they return, ready to exude their fresh taste and smell. Maybe some will appear in ricotta chive bread to welcome the spring.

Come, let us return to the Lord; for it is he who has torn, and he will heal us; he has struck down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord; his appearing is as sure as the dawn; he will come to us like the showers, like the spring rains that water the earth. Hosea 6:1-3

Hungry after work, I was eager to eat dinner. After eating I noticed how quickly I ate without thought. A few years ago, I stayed overnight at Abbey of Gethsemane, a Trappist Monastery where beloved monk and acclaimed author Thomas Merton lived. Eating meals in silence invited me to reflect on each bite. I ate slowly, thinking about where the food came from and how it was harvested. This mindfulness kept me from eating more than necessary. In the silence, alone with simple nourishment, I thought, “Praise be to God for providing just what we need.”

My husband is on a business trip in San Diego and enjoying the beautiful weather immensely! I remember spending time there and thinking I could live in a place like that with 24/7 gorgeous days. Then I decided I would miss the change of seasons too much. Then tonight happened when we unexpectedly had an icy squall…maybe I spoke too soon. The sudden cold burst came and went quickly; almost as fast as it takes to eat those tiny cups of sorbet occasionally served between courses as palate cleansers. The role of the sorbet is simple yet important; humble even. It allows the courses before and after to shine with more depth of flavor.

Lent cleanses the palate so that we can taste life more fully. ~Greg Pennoyer

I’ve been fearful of something for awhile and, at times, this rules my life. It takes form physically, causing me to feel dizzy at random times. Years ago I had a brain MRI to determine the cause. When the results came out clean, I was relieved, but I realized how powerful fear can be when allowed to take control. I still fear, but with prayer I feel peace knowing God is close, keeping my feet from stumbling.

Yesterday during a prayer time of lectio divina, the words that spoke to me were, “Forgive all that binds me in fear…help me to transform weakness into strength.” A friend asked me about my perceived weakness. When I told her, she was surprised and instead of weakness, saw strength. She felt I was courageous to even face my fear. Sometimes it takes another person to help in discernment; pointing to a different way of thinking.

I regularly pray with text from music and hymns; I turn to them, especially in times of fear. In a few weeks, at church, I will play “O, Divine Redeemer!“ Last night I prayed with Charles Gounod’s powerful text and music as I played it on the piano. In the words of Nan Merrill (Psalms for Praying) it “enfolded me in the arms of Love, filled me with God’s Holy Spirit, restored in me the joy of God’s saving grace, and encouraged me with a new spirit.”