Kierkegaard wrote that book. I'm pretty sure I read part of it a while ago. It's in the stacks of books I have that pretty much dominate my house. Seems I remember he died drowning in his beer or something like that, but Wikipedia says differently.
I enter today with fear and trembling. Not is a bad way really, but it seems when I am not trying to demand God's presence, I am shaking when I find Him standing so very close to me. Such was the case Tuesday night.
[I have changed the names, just because not everyone wants to be as open as me]
Consider the thread that conspired to create a moment in time: A year ago, I found Paula, praying; and because of the way she was praying, I decided I needed to meet her and know her. We ended up becoming friends. We shared a retreat last summer that lit a fire under me to stop being so self-centered and just maybe to do something more than just lick my own wounds. Paula introduced me to Esther, who introduced me to the Missionaries of Charity, who work in downtown Dallas with the parish of St. James. I was reminded again of the poverty I witnessed when I lived in Tucson in the early 80s.
I began to say yes to everything that involved loving God more and bringing that love to others. In one of those activities, I met Mary's mother. Mary's mother told me that she loved what I was writing on this blog. She told me her daughter loved it, too. That her daughter was thinking about something...and I kept that in back of my mind. I decided to write more...and more honestly. If God can use me here for something better, then take it Lord, as use it. Use me any way you like.
So when I said I was going exploring, because I had a brilliant priest in my life who took me seriously, Fr. Jeremiah...who said,"Go and see." And when I decided to not be so private about my intentions, Mary asked to come with me. Of course, I said yes...in fear and trembling.
Both of us wanted to back out, but both of us did not want to let God down. Had we not shared the journey, the journey would never have happened. And we were both blessed beyond our imaginations. God was present and filled every single breath of what happened on those few days. Not a second was without an intense feeling of the presence of God. I cannot describe it properly...
But I think I have just a taste of what Peter saw at The Transfiguration in Matthew 17:
Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, "Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents 5 here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, 6 then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him." When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Rise, and do not be afraid." And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone.
Neither of us wanted to leave. Not really. It was so very good to be there. So very right. So very perfect. The graces of God flowed from the river of the New Jerusalem...There is something better that I have for you, Jesus says, Come and see...
So Esther sends out an email to me and Paula about the relics of Mother Teresa. I have a meeting that night. No brainer, though, I won't go to the meeting. I choose the better part. Mother Teresa...a little woman of no account, a crushed reed she will not break, she will not grow faint...and she awakened the world to the possibility that, if we each do our part, our little part, then great things will happen for all of us. I had to go and see those things that she used to work the miracles that God asked her to work.
I ask Esther if I can bring Mary. She says yes.
And I am out of time almost. We go and it is wonderful. So much good in witnessing this. Oh, I have so much more to write and think about.
But for the moment...while we were watching and feeling close to God, someone else was watching and observing. Someone took a photo and I got to see it. There, standing at the altar, exactly where were supposed to me, Mary and me...and this bizarre journey in which God has sent us on a mission to find our place in this world...what Mary and I did not see, but an observer saw...we stood at the altar with Jesus. Right there between us. As we are trying to figure out what comes next, there was Jesus. At the altar with us.
I am leaving so very much out, but I fear that I will forget.
Oh hell, I'm never going to forget. But what it all means...only time will tell.
Let me never forget you, Lord. Let me never look at another human being without seeing you there. Let me be patient and willing to listen to each story that enters my life. Let me be fresh water to those who are thirsting for You. Let me receive Your graces to me with 'fear and trembling,' but with the ecstasy of that love You brought to me when You first ravished my heart so many years ago. You wound me, yet You heal me. I fall too often and forget what You have already given. Let me never forget that it is in giving that we receive. Let me not fail You, let me rely on Your strength alone. Help me to see what I cannot see. Help me to open my heart, even when I know it will break. For You are my greatest desire, my most perfect friend.
Love, Cindy
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Covenant
I was reminded on Monday...which seems like a lifetime ago now...that I have been on this journey for a couple of years. I was reminded yesterday that I went on my first ACTS retreat July 16-19th of 2009. That means that while I was at St Scholastica, I was at a one year anniversary of a very important cleansing. Look what God has done for me in a year! It is almost too much to bear. And too wonderful. No one can look at God and live. True. Each time I look upon God I die. And I am reborn. It has been a very good year. Here is some of my poetry that I wrote over the last year. The one I was specifically looking for is the last one. Written on July 19th, 2009. (expletive deleted)
God really does love even me.
Enjoy if you wish. Pulled off my FB notes pages.
Love, Cindy
***************
I didn't think I really needed a muse, but apparently I do.
I am woman
I stand alone
Hoping today
I'll break open the stone
That tells me the secrets
Of where I have been
With compassion and truth
And with generous friends
I stand on the threshold
of something brand new
take a chance on a hunch
hoping to see it through
No time for reflection
No time to rehearse
Just dive in the deep end
For better or worse
Will it lead to success
or to something dramatic?
I can't predict anything
anti-climatic
I desire a muse
Different eyes that can see
All the pitfalls and problems
and possibilities
To lead me to places
I've been too cautious to go
To climb up the mountain
or dive down below
But I am a woman
And I stand alone
No one can help me
No one will dare
No one come near
Let the stranger beware
To think anything in this world
didn't start
with the help of the Great One's
creative heart
To think that I'm here
Because biology worked
is kind of like thinking
I too made the dirt
that created the plants
when life first began
that evolution might occur
by the thoughts of a man
I want to write something
Profound and complete
But I find that my words
only fall at my feet
Crawl back to the baseboards
and cabinet shelf
and leave me here standing
alone by myself
"I am woman!"
I cry out
"Pay attention to me!"
And He calls back gently
"Pay attention to Thee..."
sigh...probably misused the word...
love,cindy
October 18, 2009
yes the date matters today...
*********************************************
No I am not going to write about the full moon tonight. I am not going to write any more about the fall. I cannot imagine where my bag is. Perhaps I will dream about it.
Found an old journal: back in May, reading "Still Listening" by Guenther. June: "The Art of Christian Listening" and William James' "Pragmatism."
My notes: A secret ingredient--like the Noodle Dream in Kung Fu Panda. The secret ingredient is that there is no secret ingredient.[then a poem]
The Answer is Within You
Face into the mirror, what do you see?
I see a little girl looking back at me.
Face into the mirror
sometimes warped in ways
to see the befores and afters
of the choices in our days
Face into the mirror
look at our fronts and our backs
look for the things we desire but lack
Look up and down and inside and out
Find those things we'd be better without
Look at the things before us
and what lies behind too
Know what will help and what is just do-do
Face into the mirror and clean off the glass
Know the dirt that was there is part of the past
With clean vision before us
We know we can't fail
God's love is sufficient
and will forever prevail
Face into the mirror
See the creature you are
Know your own beauty
Let it shine like a star
Face the mirror, Stand tall
And take in that love
That God and I bring you
From heaven above.
---written for my granddaughter Trinity on Trinity Sunday 2009
Love, Nana
********************
Fire in the bread
No miracle perhaps
Just red wine in a gold cup
Reflected by the light
No miracle
The light of the room
Reflects the faces of people
Hungry to be made well
Tell me Jesus, tell me
Its gonna be alright
Tell me I'm gonna be alright
Tell me I'm going to get right
Believing and receiving
What you so willingly give
So that I can live
Fire in the bread
He kneels beside my bed
Places His hand upon my head
Cools the fever
Of all my rememberings
His fire quenches my fire
And the warmth of His fingers
Reach deep inside my brain
And tells me,"Be healed"
And I believe Him
Eyes meet mine
And I am not afraid
See who I am
Who I really am
And He tells me, "Yes, you are good.
Take on My fire
In this bread
And wine
In the Body
And Blood
Watch and
Learn and
Remember
Jesus kneels by the foot of my bed
And tells me to rest now
Today's work is done
And I did just fine.
He sings me a song,
I love you, Cindy
Hold fast to my love
I will never leave you
You make me smile...
____________________________
My goodness, what will the rest of the day bring?
Love, Cindy
***********************************
Published in 1992 in Forces Magazine (CCCC):
Patience and Persistence
With a single touch on the lovely white ivory
She finds herself beyond reality and submitting to instant peace
Black and white caresses her body
embraces her life
and makes complete
the thoughts that wander wantonly for a home--
She touches the heart of the keyboard
making it laugh or cry
only asking to be recognized by deaf ears
glaring in the darkness
A single candle turns white keys to soft yellow
asking not for payment except in the music
which might otherwise be neglected
Her hands are tired now, but still she plays
plays and listens and waits
for the music to set her free
________________________
[always seeking God, it seems, one way or another]
*********************************************
Sept 10, 2009
I placed my heart in a tomb
To protect it from all the pain
I kept it safe, I thought, not knowing
It was a tomb
Like Lazarus, I was dead to the world
Dead to everything
And Jesus came near and said
Be opened
Take away the stone
And Lazarus came out alive
My heart, hidden behind the stone
In the tomb
Has been called out
Be opened, my heart!
Live!
This one is not finished, but I felt I had to put it down anyway. Wrote it a few days ago.
Blessings,
Cindy
**************************
Mary Mother of God
August 15, 2009
1.
Mother most perfect
Never asking why
She pondered in her heart
Endured the worst
Taught the boy
Believed in him
Stood firm
Held him up
Let him go
And all I can do is hurt with her today
Frustrated by something as silly as lost keys
Embarrassed that I had to ask for help
Many stories surround her
This mother of God
This Theotokos
These bitter tears
This sea
We made her into a saint
When mother was her greatest and happiest role
She gave away everything
To ensure that something better might happen
That the world might rest
From all its restlessness
I weep for what she did
What she gave
Wondering if I was asked
Could I do the same?
Sweet Mary, rest well
We heard the message
And slowly we say yes
To the glorious impossible
Of the Incarnate Son
Who changed the world
Bringing light into the darkness
of our souls
Sweet Mary rest well
Your boy did his work
Because you did yours
2.
I asked you only moments ago
what do you require of me
How can I speak of this journey
without hurting someone I love
there is so much to say
but it needs love and care to be done well
You tell me calm down
you remind me
you fled to Elizabeth for safety
while Joseph had to learn and pray
to calm down
to not kill you and your child
as the Law allowed
You stayed with Elizabeth
Until it was safe to go home
when Joseph dreamed a dream
that told him Mercy over Law
was the right thing to do
Mercy over Law might save me, too
The writing I feel compelled to write
May arrive or not
But the journey
the struggle
that was necessary
the sign is the Sign
what you have asked for
you have received
Mary and Elizabeth
the names you gave your daughter
you knew those were the two strongest
the ones who believed
who initiated the change
that changed the world
Trust the waiting
Good fruit will come
in its time.
Written about 11 months ago ·
******************************
If you love Me-Tell Me that you do
Tell Me the truth or tell Me nothing at all
Masques are fine for human to human meetings
But give Me your All
Or give Me nothing
Hide even a little and my head turns away
I desire a pure heart
Not a perfect one, but pure
Give Me all of you
Or give Me nothing
I cannot give you anything
If you require bargain or compromise
I have pledged to be loyal to you
Now be loyal to Me
And you shall never feel wanting
Submit--bend--
Cut away all that keeps you from seeking Me
My gift to you is the best:
All of creation and more
With Me, you will not learn, you will know
And time, you will scorn:
a human invention to control each other
a unit of measure,
When the greatest gift is immeasurable.
I cannot give you half of perfection
I can only give it all --for it is not to be measured or
valued as you value things
It is your surrender, your submission to Me
When we become One, as I told you when I was here,
limiting myself so that you could see Me,
Feel Me,
Taste Me,
Remember Me---and forget Me--if you look away
I can't make you stay
That must be your heart's desire
Join Me and do not look back
Take all I have
It was always yours
Waiting, waiting , waiting...
...for you to come home.
With love to all,
Cindy
copyright August 2009
God really does love even me.
Enjoy if you wish. Pulled off my FB notes pages.
Love, Cindy
***************
I didn't think I really needed a muse, but apparently I do.
I am woman
I stand alone
Hoping today
I'll break open the stone
That tells me the secrets
Of where I have been
With compassion and truth
And with generous friends
I stand on the threshold
of something brand new
take a chance on a hunch
hoping to see it through
No time for reflection
No time to rehearse
Just dive in the deep end
For better or worse
Will it lead to success
or to something dramatic?
I can't predict anything
anti-climatic
I desire a muse
Different eyes that can see
All the pitfalls and problems
and possibilities
To lead me to places
I've been too cautious to go
To climb up the mountain
or dive down below
But I am a woman
And I stand alone
No one can help me
No one will dare
No one come near
Let the stranger beware
To think anything in this world
didn't start
with the help of the Great One's
creative heart
To think that I'm here
Because biology worked
is kind of like thinking
I too made the dirt
that created the plants
when life first began
that evolution might occur
by the thoughts of a man
I want to write something
Profound and complete
But I find that my words
only fall at my feet
Crawl back to the baseboards
and cabinet shelf
and leave me here standing
alone by myself
"I am woman!"
I cry out
"Pay attention to me!"
And He calls back gently
"Pay attention to Thee..."
sigh...probably misused the word...
love,cindy
October 18, 2009
yes the date matters today...
*********************************************
No I am not going to write about the full moon tonight. I am not going to write any more about the fall. I cannot imagine where my bag is. Perhaps I will dream about it.
Found an old journal: back in May, reading "Still Listening" by Guenther. June: "The Art of Christian Listening" and William James' "Pragmatism."
My notes: A secret ingredient--like the Noodle Dream in Kung Fu Panda. The secret ingredient is that there is no secret ingredient.[then a poem]
The Answer is Within You
Face into the mirror, what do you see?
I see a little girl looking back at me.
Face into the mirror
sometimes warped in ways
to see the befores and afters
of the choices in our days
Face into the mirror
look at our fronts and our backs
look for the things we desire but lack
Look up and down and inside and out
Find those things we'd be better without
Look at the things before us
and what lies behind too
Know what will help and what is just do-do
Face into the mirror and clean off the glass
Know the dirt that was there is part of the past
With clean vision before us
We know we can't fail
God's love is sufficient
and will forever prevail
Face into the mirror
See the creature you are
Know your own beauty
Let it shine like a star
Face the mirror, Stand tall
And take in that love
That God and I bring you
From heaven above.
---written for my granddaughter Trinity on Trinity Sunday 2009
Love, Nana
********************
Fire in the bread
No miracle perhaps
Just red wine in a gold cup
Reflected by the light
No miracle
The light of the room
Reflects the faces of people
Hungry to be made well
Tell me Jesus, tell me
Its gonna be alright
Tell me I'm gonna be alright
Tell me I'm going to get right
Believing and receiving
What you so willingly give
So that I can live
Fire in the bread
He kneels beside my bed
Places His hand upon my head
Cools the fever
Of all my rememberings
His fire quenches my fire
And the warmth of His fingers
Reach deep inside my brain
And tells me,"Be healed"
And I believe Him
Eyes meet mine
And I am not afraid
See who I am
Who I really am
And He tells me, "Yes, you are good.
Take on My fire
In this bread
And wine
In the Body
And Blood
Watch and
Learn and
Remember
Jesus kneels by the foot of my bed
And tells me to rest now
Today's work is done
And I did just fine.
He sings me a song,
I love you, Cindy
Hold fast to my love
I will never leave you
You make me smile...
____________________________
My goodness, what will the rest of the day bring?
Love, Cindy
***********************************
Published in 1992 in Forces Magazine (CCCC):
Patience and Persistence
With a single touch on the lovely white ivory
She finds herself beyond reality and submitting to instant peace
Black and white caresses her body
embraces her life
and makes complete
the thoughts that wander wantonly for a home--
She touches the heart of the keyboard
making it laugh or cry
only asking to be recognized by deaf ears
glaring in the darkness
A single candle turns white keys to soft yellow
asking not for payment except in the music
which might otherwise be neglected
Her hands are tired now, but still she plays
plays and listens and waits
for the music to set her free
________________________
[always seeking God, it seems, one way or another]
*********************************************
Sept 10, 2009
I placed my heart in a tomb
To protect it from all the pain
I kept it safe, I thought, not knowing
It was a tomb
Like Lazarus, I was dead to the world
Dead to everything
And Jesus came near and said
Be opened
Take away the stone
And Lazarus came out alive
My heart, hidden behind the stone
In the tomb
Has been called out
Be opened, my heart!
Live!
This one is not finished, but I felt I had to put it down anyway. Wrote it a few days ago.
Blessings,
Cindy
**************************
Mary Mother of God
August 15, 2009
1.
Mother most perfect
Never asking why
She pondered in her heart
Endured the worst
Taught the boy
Believed in him
Stood firm
Held him up
Let him go
And all I can do is hurt with her today
Frustrated by something as silly as lost keys
Embarrassed that I had to ask for help
Many stories surround her
This mother of God
This Theotokos
These bitter tears
This sea
We made her into a saint
When mother was her greatest and happiest role
She gave away everything
To ensure that something better might happen
That the world might rest
From all its restlessness
I weep for what she did
What she gave
Wondering if I was asked
Could I do the same?
Sweet Mary, rest well
We heard the message
And slowly we say yes
To the glorious impossible
Of the Incarnate Son
Who changed the world
Bringing light into the darkness
of our souls
Sweet Mary rest well
Your boy did his work
Because you did yours
2.
I asked you only moments ago
what do you require of me
How can I speak of this journey
without hurting someone I love
there is so much to say
but it needs love and care to be done well
You tell me calm down
you remind me
you fled to Elizabeth for safety
while Joseph had to learn and pray
to calm down
to not kill you and your child
as the Law allowed
You stayed with Elizabeth
Until it was safe to go home
when Joseph dreamed a dream
that told him Mercy over Law
was the right thing to do
Mercy over Law might save me, too
The writing I feel compelled to write
May arrive or not
But the journey
the struggle
that was necessary
the sign is the Sign
what you have asked for
you have received
Mary and Elizabeth
the names you gave your daughter
you knew those were the two strongest
the ones who believed
who initiated the change
that changed the world
Trust the waiting
Good fruit will come
in its time.
Written about 11 months ago ·
******************************
If you love Me-Tell Me that you do
Tell Me the truth or tell Me nothing at all
Masques are fine for human to human meetings
But give Me your All
Or give Me nothing
Hide even a little and my head turns away
I desire a pure heart
Not a perfect one, but pure
Give Me all of you
Or give Me nothing
I cannot give you anything
If you require bargain or compromise
I have pledged to be loyal to you
Now be loyal to Me
And you shall never feel wanting
Submit--bend--
Cut away all that keeps you from seeking Me
My gift to you is the best:
All of creation and more
With Me, you will not learn, you will know
And time, you will scorn:
a human invention to control each other
a unit of measure,
When the greatest gift is immeasurable.
I cannot give you half of perfection
I can only give it all --for it is not to be measured or
valued as you value things
It is your surrender, your submission to Me
When we become One, as I told you when I was here,
limiting myself so that you could see Me,
Feel Me,
Taste Me,
Remember Me---and forget Me--if you look away
I can't make you stay
That must be your heart's desire
Join Me and do not look back
Take all I have
It was always yours
Waiting, waiting , waiting...
...for you to come home.
With love to all,
Cindy
copyright August 2009
Friday, July 23, 2010
I'm a good person...really...
There is a fine line between narcissism and pedagogy, I think. At least there is for me this day. I recall being in an undergrad ancient philosophy class at UNT. I was bored with the class. When I get bored, I try to make what I am doing into a game. Working at Luby's Cafeteria, I used to draw pictures with my spoon in the creamed corn. In my Calculus class at TAMU, I used to catch and release flies to entertain the people sitting next to me in class. Every day, in my philosophy class, my professor would mention a paper he wrote back in 1973...every day he mentioned it. So my entertainment in that class was to 'time' him. I would record how much time would elapse each day before he would mention that paper. Some days, it would take him about 10 minutes to bring it up, other days, he might talk for 25 minutes before mentioning it.
One day, while primping in the bathroom, I mentioned to my much younger student companions in the class, who were complaining about how boring the class was, that I liked to 'time' our prof on that paper.
So, that day, in class, he begins his lecture...and then he mentions the paper. The two girls behind me burst out laughing...and I try to crawl under my seat, certain that my professor was fully aware it was me who started it.
It's not like I was trying to cause trouble. Like the day, in 6th grade, when I accidentally flooded the girls' bathroom. I just thought it would be interesting to plug up the drains in the floor, shove my thumb into the spigot with the water flowing full blast and watch the water hit the ceiling and drip to the floor. It wasn't like I was alone or anything. I had two co-conspirators with me. I was just curious...and it was jut water...right? And I was bored. Three days suspension for that one, but not on my permanent record. The principal saidI was an A student, top of my class...I was a good person...really.
I write this blog to help other people with their own challenges. I get enough feedback to know that my writing has made a difference, or helped others find out who they are. Maybe just a few people. But if you think about it, one person, changing his/her mind is enough. We can change the world, one person at a time, because one person might just be enough to save us all from damnation...oh, wait! Somebody already did that!
From Genesis 18:
But Abraham persisted, saying, "What if only forty are found there?" He replied, "I will forebear doing it for the sake of the forty." Then he said, "Let not my Lord grow impatient if I go on. What if only thirty are found there?" He replied, "I will forebear doing it if I can find but thirty there." Still he went on, "Since I have thus dared to speak to my Lord, what if there are no more than twenty?" "I will not destroy it," he answered, "for the sake of the twenty." But he still persisted: "Please, let not my Lord grow angry if I speak up this last time. What if there are at least ten there?" "For the sake of those ten," he replied, "I will not destroy it." The LORD departed as soon as he had finished speaking with Abraham, and Abraham returned home.
Ten good people could have saved a city. One 'person' saved all of us. The theme is played out over and over again.
And from Matthew 5, who tells us, if we are blessed, then we are required to be a blessing. We should not just give from our extravagance, we should give because we can give:
If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, 26 go with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.
God wants us in relationship with Him and with each other. All the time. For He is merciful as we are merciful to each other.
But we really shouldn't brag about it. Today, I am caught between thoughts of doing the right thing, and then speaking about it. How exactly do we teach and share our good works in a way that teaches without, shall I say, drawing attention to ourselves?
It is a fine line: doing good works to glorify God vs. doing good works to glorify ourselves. And we don't always recognize when we have crossed the line. It was pointed out to me today, that even if I recognize that I have been self-centered or self-absorbed, sometimes the good works still get done just fine.
But in this case, some of the charm of what I did lost it's innocence in the telling. I paid a price for sharing, because the sharing was not about inspiring someone or teaching someone, but because I simply wanted it known.
Kilroy was here. Remember that, you old people? Jesus said those who give in public already have their reward. A plaque on the wall...or a building named after them. But the greatest gifts are done in secret.
But as we grow closer to God, God shows us our pride in ourselves and it is an ugly and painful thing to embrace. Living in humility is hard work. To live humbly, you have to first recognize that you have something to be proud of. And then, let it go.
Many days, I play the piano before Mass. Each time I play, someone new comes up to me and says thank you...with eyes and a voice that slays me. I never want anyone to tell me thank you for playing. I play for God. But then, if I am playing for God and God is in you, then I am playing for you, too. I can't imagine God saying thank you to me for a gift that He gave me in the first place. But I need to be polite.
I begged Fr Henry to ask a certain man to stop telling me thank you for the way that I read Scripture. He told me pretty much to get over myself and just say thank you. But what if I got to a place where I expected thanks? I see the dangers in sharing our gifts. But then, I think the dangers of not sharing our gifts is greater.
We need to always look at our motivations for our actions. Okay, I need to look at my motivation for my actions. Part of why I write here is that I know it makes a difference. Once I preached and someone who was simply thinking about committing suicide stopped thinking about doing it. She wrote me a note thanking me for what I said. Is telling you that bragging? Maybe. But that's not what I intend. I want those who bother to read my noise here that everything you do and say matters. It can change lives for the good as well as the bad. Strive to do the good.
If God lets you see the fruit of your labor, then thank Him. But don't think too much of yourself. If you do, you will become blind.
So pride, that lusty animal, always lurks in the dark unguarded areas of our psyche. It damages the gifts we share and it especially damages the way we love one another.
I've got a wedding to go to. I must stop here. But I've been writing this one all day and it will not leave me.
I will probably need to correct this one later...but let it be things to muse on anyway.
What gift are you hiding from the world? Why are you hiding it? Is it pride that keeps you from trying? Is it the fear of success that scares you? Are you hoarding your talents for 'just the right' day?
Give now, love now, say yes now.
You are a good person...really...
Love, Cindy
One day, while primping in the bathroom, I mentioned to my much younger student companions in the class, who were complaining about how boring the class was, that I liked to 'time' our prof on that paper.
So, that day, in class, he begins his lecture...and then he mentions the paper. The two girls behind me burst out laughing...and I try to crawl under my seat, certain that my professor was fully aware it was me who started it.
It's not like I was trying to cause trouble. Like the day, in 6th grade, when I accidentally flooded the girls' bathroom. I just thought it would be interesting to plug up the drains in the floor, shove my thumb into the spigot with the water flowing full blast and watch the water hit the ceiling and drip to the floor. It wasn't like I was alone or anything. I had two co-conspirators with me. I was just curious...and it was jut water...right? And I was bored. Three days suspension for that one, but not on my permanent record. The principal saidI was an A student, top of my class...I was a good person...really.
I write this blog to help other people with their own challenges. I get enough feedback to know that my writing has made a difference, or helped others find out who they are. Maybe just a few people. But if you think about it, one person, changing his/her mind is enough. We can change the world, one person at a time, because one person might just be enough to save us all from damnation...oh, wait! Somebody already did that!
From Genesis 18:
But Abraham persisted, saying, "What if only forty are found there?" He replied, "I will forebear doing it for the sake of the forty." Then he said, "Let not my Lord grow impatient if I go on. What if only thirty are found there?" He replied, "I will forebear doing it if I can find but thirty there." Still he went on, "Since I have thus dared to speak to my Lord, what if there are no more than twenty?" "I will not destroy it," he answered, "for the sake of the twenty." But he still persisted: "Please, let not my Lord grow angry if I speak up this last time. What if there are at least ten there?" "For the sake of those ten," he replied, "I will not destroy it." The LORD departed as soon as he had finished speaking with Abraham, and Abraham returned home.
Ten good people could have saved a city. One 'person' saved all of us. The theme is played out over and over again.
And from Matthew 5, who tells us, if we are blessed, then we are required to be a blessing. We should not just give from our extravagance, we should give because we can give:
If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, 26 go with him for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.
God wants us in relationship with Him and with each other. All the time. For He is merciful as we are merciful to each other.
But we really shouldn't brag about it. Today, I am caught between thoughts of doing the right thing, and then speaking about it. How exactly do we teach and share our good works in a way that teaches without, shall I say, drawing attention to ourselves?
It is a fine line: doing good works to glorify God vs. doing good works to glorify ourselves. And we don't always recognize when we have crossed the line. It was pointed out to me today, that even if I recognize that I have been self-centered or self-absorbed, sometimes the good works still get done just fine.
But in this case, some of the charm of what I did lost it's innocence in the telling. I paid a price for sharing, because the sharing was not about inspiring someone or teaching someone, but because I simply wanted it known.
Kilroy was here. Remember that, you old people? Jesus said those who give in public already have their reward. A plaque on the wall...or a building named after them. But the greatest gifts are done in secret.
But as we grow closer to God, God shows us our pride in ourselves and it is an ugly and painful thing to embrace. Living in humility is hard work. To live humbly, you have to first recognize that you have something to be proud of. And then, let it go.
Many days, I play the piano before Mass. Each time I play, someone new comes up to me and says thank you...with eyes and a voice that slays me. I never want anyone to tell me thank you for playing. I play for God. But then, if I am playing for God and God is in you, then I am playing for you, too. I can't imagine God saying thank you to me for a gift that He gave me in the first place. But I need to be polite.
I begged Fr Henry to ask a certain man to stop telling me thank you for the way that I read Scripture. He told me pretty much to get over myself and just say thank you. But what if I got to a place where I expected thanks? I see the dangers in sharing our gifts. But then, I think the dangers of not sharing our gifts is greater.
We need to always look at our motivations for our actions. Okay, I need to look at my motivation for my actions. Part of why I write here is that I know it makes a difference. Once I preached and someone who was simply thinking about committing suicide stopped thinking about doing it. She wrote me a note thanking me for what I said. Is telling you that bragging? Maybe. But that's not what I intend. I want those who bother to read my noise here that everything you do and say matters. It can change lives for the good as well as the bad. Strive to do the good.
If God lets you see the fruit of your labor, then thank Him. But don't think too much of yourself. If you do, you will become blind.
So pride, that lusty animal, always lurks in the dark unguarded areas of our psyche. It damages the gifts we share and it especially damages the way we love one another.
I've got a wedding to go to. I must stop here. But I've been writing this one all day and it will not leave me.
I will probably need to correct this one later...but let it be things to muse on anyway.
What gift are you hiding from the world? Why are you hiding it? Is it pride that keeps you from trying? Is it the fear of success that scares you? Are you hoarding your talents for 'just the right' day?
Give now, love now, say yes now.
You are a good person...really...
Love, Cindy
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Too much woman
I hit a spiritual wall last night. I looked around my life here in this place and asked myself, "What am I doing here?" And then I woke this morning with the thought, "What were you thinking?" In the span of less than 12 hours, I flew from one end of the spiritual spectrum to the other. There is no way to explain when it started or why it started. It's just all part of this bizarre journey that seems to be my life, sometimes riding bareback with God and sometimes hanging upside down from a tree. But always, always, always wanting more.
Nephesh. The Hebrew word for hunger. Bill Power described it as newborn chicks in a nest, with their scrawny little heads looking upward with their mouths open, telling their mother, "Feed me!" Dr. Power told us that was the way we seek God. We are so hungry for Him...and me, I think I am hungrier than anyone else.
But of course, that is not true. I am simply aware of my hunger. I desire God's love even more than I desire life. Sounds a bit extreme...even to me.
In the background, I hear the morning birds waking and singing while they sit on my roof. On my little radio,, right now, is an old Phil Collins song:
"I can feel it coming in the air tonight
Ive been waiting for this moment all of my life."
And I remember the classic 80s movie it was in, "Risky Business."
Just dare to tell me that God doesn't have a sense of humor. There are connections I could make for you here that are probably not for the undisciplined heart...but I am convinced that everything of our life is a connection to God...even the most outrageous things. Nothing can separate us from God.
Except one thing: We can walk away. The 32nd psalm, I don't want to look up the Hebrew right now, but, in this psalm, there are three different words to describe sin: turning away, missing the mark and I think the third is outright rebellion.
The only unforgivable sin is denying the Holy Spirit. Of course it is unforgivable. If you deny the Spirit, then there is nothing to save from this earthly realm. Deny it and 'here' is all you have.
In the past 48 hours or so, I have been in connection with intense things. I wondered why I was so exhausted last night...truly too exhausted to even offer the simplest words to God in prayer. All I could see and feel was my own fear, and I was too tired to even realize that that was indeed the prayer I needed to give Him last night. I kind of gave it to Him indirectly, through an intermediary, who knows how to hear. I trusted that. But even that is a risk. What I give to God is not always appropriate for another human heart, unless the heart is very very strong. But then, as I leaned into God a bit more, the dam broke in my heart and in the privacy of the chapel, I let the blood and water of my heart pour out and allowed the blood and water of His Heart to come in. I wept and told Him what I thought was the truth, but it was not the truth. But as I let it out, He showed me the truth. My truth. And I felt relieved that I had been deceived by the One who would rather have me so far away from Him.
These words are residue from two meetings I had recently with intense women. Powerful women. Weak women. Hungry women. I don't know if I can properly write about it. I had asked God to continue to 'purge me with hyssop,' that I might be a better servant to Him. I have been praying for some time about women. About there role in my life and my role in their lives.
And God brings me two women, in exactly the right order, to teach me more.
I have been told by many of the men in my life (and let me be clear, most of them were from a LONG LONG time ago)that I was just too much woman. They were attracted to my intensity and strength, but ultimately, they could never keep up with me. No matter where we went, I was always pushing to live just a bit more. I have never been completely satisfied with them, God bless them! Why only live half way when God wants us to have it all? I kept thinking that they would "finish me," that they would "complete" me. But they never did.
Only God can complete me. Only God can satisfy me. Only God knows where are the broken parts are and only God can fill them. Took me a very long time to figure that out. Only God is the moment I have waited for all of my life. Hungry as I am, He has enough food to feed me. He has enough food for all of us.
These women, two very different women. Brought their stories to me. One was very direct, the other took the long way around. The first wept for about an hour, telling me how much she loved God, while she spoke again of a sin that is probably the one I can tolerate the very least: infidelity. It is the one I hear most often, from both men and women. We get so confused about love. We have such a hard time understanding what it is and what it is not.
I got a massage yesterday (my wonderful extravagance) and the man and I talked afterward. I mentioned a bit about what happened earlier and there he was, telling me how he fell from grace. I went into a little summary of the Gospel of John, explaining to him how I understood what love is...and thinking on another track, oh my, I'm not going to remember this later, but it is right...love is explained in John. Perfectly.
The conversation with the first woman ended in prayer. I tried to get her to a priest for confession. She told me she was not Catholic. I asked, then why are you here? She replied, Because here is where God is.
Yeah, that's why I'm here too. I looked over at my shoes and socks on the floor next to the wall. I looked at my open purse and open prayer book also on the floor. You see, the woman's weeping, pulled me out of my prayer space and into hers. She was distraught. She was hungry. I got to be a vessel for Him. Go, God! I thought I had been called to church that night to pray. I was...only not as I expected. Never is you know. He brings you in, but you never know what He will do. You just have to be open.
So we pray. When she tells me she is not Catholic, I try another tactic. I tell her I used to be a Methodist minister. She likes that. Go ahead, get curious, I think. You are here for a reason. But I pray with her, and I hear the same thing I hear from everybody else when I pray.
"That was amazing. You really pray well." And I can never understand why they tell me that. I just try to listen to what they say, and hear what I think they need. And then I just tell God. "You used to be a Methodist minister." "Yep." Go ahead, ask me. Ask me why I am here. But she doesn't. She hugs me tightly, thanks me and I whisper in her ear: "Don't sin anymore. And don't answer the phone." I feel my face against the hair on her head and I have to hug her just a tad longer, because I cannot believe I said what I did. A woman I've never met before. A woman I'll probably never see again.
She hasn't made the connection, I think. She still can't see. But she feels better now. Less hungry. And that's a good thing.
The story about the second woman will have to wait. Time to get going.
Keep your ears open. God is calling you. He wants you to help. God wants to love you...all over again.
Love, Cindy
Nephesh. The Hebrew word for hunger. Bill Power described it as newborn chicks in a nest, with their scrawny little heads looking upward with their mouths open, telling their mother, "Feed me!" Dr. Power told us that was the way we seek God. We are so hungry for Him...and me, I think I am hungrier than anyone else.
But of course, that is not true. I am simply aware of my hunger. I desire God's love even more than I desire life. Sounds a bit extreme...even to me.
In the background, I hear the morning birds waking and singing while they sit on my roof. On my little radio,, right now, is an old Phil Collins song:
"I can feel it coming in the air tonight
Ive been waiting for this moment all of my life."
And I remember the classic 80s movie it was in, "Risky Business."
Just dare to tell me that God doesn't have a sense of humor. There are connections I could make for you here that are probably not for the undisciplined heart...but I am convinced that everything of our life is a connection to God...even the most outrageous things. Nothing can separate us from God.
Except one thing: We can walk away. The 32nd psalm, I don't want to look up the Hebrew right now, but, in this psalm, there are three different words to describe sin: turning away, missing the mark and I think the third is outright rebellion.
The only unforgivable sin is denying the Holy Spirit. Of course it is unforgivable. If you deny the Spirit, then there is nothing to save from this earthly realm. Deny it and 'here' is all you have.
In the past 48 hours or so, I have been in connection with intense things. I wondered why I was so exhausted last night...truly too exhausted to even offer the simplest words to God in prayer. All I could see and feel was my own fear, and I was too tired to even realize that that was indeed the prayer I needed to give Him last night. I kind of gave it to Him indirectly, through an intermediary, who knows how to hear. I trusted that. But even that is a risk. What I give to God is not always appropriate for another human heart, unless the heart is very very strong. But then, as I leaned into God a bit more, the dam broke in my heart and in the privacy of the chapel, I let the blood and water of my heart pour out and allowed the blood and water of His Heart to come in. I wept and told Him what I thought was the truth, but it was not the truth. But as I let it out, He showed me the truth. My truth. And I felt relieved that I had been deceived by the One who would rather have me so far away from Him.
These words are residue from two meetings I had recently with intense women. Powerful women. Weak women. Hungry women. I don't know if I can properly write about it. I had asked God to continue to 'purge me with hyssop,' that I might be a better servant to Him. I have been praying for some time about women. About there role in my life and my role in their lives.
And God brings me two women, in exactly the right order, to teach me more.
I have been told by many of the men in my life (and let me be clear, most of them were from a LONG LONG time ago)that I was just too much woman. They were attracted to my intensity and strength, but ultimately, they could never keep up with me. No matter where we went, I was always pushing to live just a bit more. I have never been completely satisfied with them, God bless them! Why only live half way when God wants us to have it all? I kept thinking that they would "finish me," that they would "complete" me. But they never did.
Only God can complete me. Only God can satisfy me. Only God knows where are the broken parts are and only God can fill them. Took me a very long time to figure that out. Only God is the moment I have waited for all of my life. Hungry as I am, He has enough food to feed me. He has enough food for all of us.
These women, two very different women. Brought their stories to me. One was very direct, the other took the long way around. The first wept for about an hour, telling me how much she loved God, while she spoke again of a sin that is probably the one I can tolerate the very least: infidelity. It is the one I hear most often, from both men and women. We get so confused about love. We have such a hard time understanding what it is and what it is not.
I got a massage yesterday (my wonderful extravagance) and the man and I talked afterward. I mentioned a bit about what happened earlier and there he was, telling me how he fell from grace. I went into a little summary of the Gospel of John, explaining to him how I understood what love is...and thinking on another track, oh my, I'm not going to remember this later, but it is right...love is explained in John. Perfectly.
The conversation with the first woman ended in prayer. I tried to get her to a priest for confession. She told me she was not Catholic. I asked, then why are you here? She replied, Because here is where God is.
Yeah, that's why I'm here too. I looked over at my shoes and socks on the floor next to the wall. I looked at my open purse and open prayer book also on the floor. You see, the woman's weeping, pulled me out of my prayer space and into hers. She was distraught. She was hungry. I got to be a vessel for Him. Go, God! I thought I had been called to church that night to pray. I was...only not as I expected. Never is you know. He brings you in, but you never know what He will do. You just have to be open.
So we pray. When she tells me she is not Catholic, I try another tactic. I tell her I used to be a Methodist minister. She likes that. Go ahead, get curious, I think. You are here for a reason. But I pray with her, and I hear the same thing I hear from everybody else when I pray.
"That was amazing. You really pray well." And I can never understand why they tell me that. I just try to listen to what they say, and hear what I think they need. And then I just tell God. "You used to be a Methodist minister." "Yep." Go ahead, ask me. Ask me why I am here. But she doesn't. She hugs me tightly, thanks me and I whisper in her ear: "Don't sin anymore. And don't answer the phone." I feel my face against the hair on her head and I have to hug her just a tad longer, because I cannot believe I said what I did. A woman I've never met before. A woman I'll probably never see again.
She hasn't made the connection, I think. She still can't see. But she feels better now. Less hungry. And that's a good thing.
The story about the second woman will have to wait. Time to get going.
Keep your ears open. God is calling you. He wants you to help. God wants to love you...all over again.
Love, Cindy
Monday, July 19, 2010
I Close My Eyes
I close my eyes
And you are there
Right where you are supposed to be
And all the things I forgot to say get said
All the things I forgot to do are forgiven
The sea calms
And I am once again confident
That I can walk upright
Even though I am climbing a mountain
And the wind is blowing
And rain is imminent
Still the light remains
The hand is outstretched
I reach for it
And I find you
Waiting for me to finish my prayers
Love, Cindy
And you are there
Right where you are supposed to be
And all the things I forgot to say get said
All the things I forgot to do are forgiven
The sea calms
And I am once again confident
That I can walk upright
Even though I am climbing a mountain
And the wind is blowing
And rain is imminent
Still the light remains
The hand is outstretched
I reach for it
And I find you
Waiting for me to finish my prayers
Love, Cindy
Sunday, July 18, 2010
My Side of the Mountain
"So you are going to be a nun?" the parent of one of my ex-geometry students asked me. I put up my hand, as I glanced out of the corner of my eye my priest, who when I returned from my recent 'pilgrimage,' seemed to be a bit surprised that I really meant to do what I told him I intended to do...just about a year ago, I think. I'm thinking maybe he needs more time to get used to it, but frankly, I need more time to get used to it, too. Talking about something is a whole lot different than doing something.
Entering seminary was a lot like that. Only no one in the Methodist Church seemed surprised, except Keith, who was the primary reason I decided to go. Odd how mentors walk with us and support us, but sometimes have their own ideas about who we should be. But at that time, I was surprised that SMU would even consider me. I was surprised when I wrote my letter of resignation to the college, walking away from very good job as an instructional associate. I was surprised when I didn't flunk out of seminary. I was surprised when my paper was published. I was surprised when I had several job offers. I was surprised when I passed the initial tests and review boards. I expected to fail. I didn't. I had to force that to happen.
But that was because, I knew in my heart, I was not where I was supposed to be. This time, though, is different. I have no doubt in my mind. I am finally doing what I said I would do.
When you find that one perfect thing, that pearl of great price, and you know you must sell everything you have in order to get it...you do it and you do it with joy.
It just took me 40 years to realize what I knew from the time I was born what I had to do. And if I succeed or fail, it really doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I stay true to my quest. My impossible dream. And right now, I think that includes trying to be a nun.
Sister said "Give it a year. You can give it a year. Then decide." And oh, if they will let me give them a year...what gifts might I find that I can give and receive during that time! Even if I fail, I will not have failed. And if I can have the courage and stamina to write, then just maybe...someone else will try...and maybe find that this is her life waiting for her, or his life waiting for him...and that will be return enough...or not. I must stay true to who I am. As you must do.
"Amy, what you wanna do?
I think I could stay with you
For a while, maybe longer if I do
I keep falling in and out of love with you
Falling in and out of love with you
Don't know what I'm gonna do
I just keep falling in and out of love with you"
Pure Prairie League on the radio
The trouble is, I have never fallen out of love with God. But I have searched long and hard for substitutes, which satisfy for a time, but never long enough. Now that I am old with gray hair, I can see that God never really planned for me to love anyone as much as I love Him.
I'm not going to claim that this life is for everyone, but it seems to suit me. And if God wills it, I will succeed. And if God wills something else, I will accept that with joy also.
This is my side of the mountain. As I make my way back to Him, this is my path. Sometimes I'll get to share it with others and sometimes I'll walk alone, but I hope I am done with trying to walk someone else's path. I am high on the sheer joy of waking up to my own place in this world. Odd as it is, it belongs to me.
Now as to the Steinway that entered my life a couple of days ago. I know pianos. I have played as many as I can find. I have ventured into doors that were supposed to be locked and tried them out. I have played on stage when no one was around and I have played on stage to screaming college students...and no, I am not ready to open up that story...for a long LONG time. But when I stumble on something of beauty, I am captivated by it.
Such was the Steinway this last week. I am coveting it. I want to know it and I want it to know me. It has a color unlike any I have heard in a long long time...and it has stirred up feelings I thought were dead. I long to hear it sing and I long to make it sing. I remember a person who I thought I was, and I remember what I knew I would have to give up were I to follow that dream...and I knew it was just to much to give up. I had made commitments and people were depending on me. What I could have done then, what I might have been...sits in a mist that I thought was dead. Now I wonder, what God intends to show me by waking up this dream again.
When I play, the beast in me calms. When I play, the beast in my neighbor calms. It is an expression of prayer that transcends our words and reaches to God in a direct line precisely because it does not have to be filtered through speech.
I recall the Brahms again, when I realized I had played it perfectly, I was stunned by its beauty. And it almost killed me.
Such is the feeling of a miracle. You do what God asks you and He decides to let you see it fulfilled. He shows you the other side of the mountain. He shows you, in fleeting moments, how good things can be when we just rest in Him and let Him take us through the storm. It is the most wonderful feeling in the world. Truly it is the joy of a young bride in anticipation of bringing new life into the world.
Or an old one: (from today's reading from Genesis)
They asked Abraham, "Where is your wife Sarah?"
He replied, "There in the tent."
One of them said, "I will surely return to you about this time next year,
and Sarah will then have a son."
Give Him your best and He will give you His best.
I'm going to stop here for now. I need to pray.
Love, Cindy
Entering seminary was a lot like that. Only no one in the Methodist Church seemed surprised, except Keith, who was the primary reason I decided to go. Odd how mentors walk with us and support us, but sometimes have their own ideas about who we should be. But at that time, I was surprised that SMU would even consider me. I was surprised when I wrote my letter of resignation to the college, walking away from very good job as an instructional associate. I was surprised when I didn't flunk out of seminary. I was surprised when my paper was published. I was surprised when I had several job offers. I was surprised when I passed the initial tests and review boards. I expected to fail. I didn't. I had to force that to happen.
But that was because, I knew in my heart, I was not where I was supposed to be. This time, though, is different. I have no doubt in my mind. I am finally doing what I said I would do.
When you find that one perfect thing, that pearl of great price, and you know you must sell everything you have in order to get it...you do it and you do it with joy.
It just took me 40 years to realize what I knew from the time I was born what I had to do. And if I succeed or fail, it really doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I stay true to my quest. My impossible dream. And right now, I think that includes trying to be a nun.
Sister said "Give it a year. You can give it a year. Then decide." And oh, if they will let me give them a year...what gifts might I find that I can give and receive during that time! Even if I fail, I will not have failed. And if I can have the courage and stamina to write, then just maybe...someone else will try...and maybe find that this is her life waiting for her, or his life waiting for him...and that will be return enough...or not. I must stay true to who I am. As you must do.
"Amy, what you wanna do?
I think I could stay with you
For a while, maybe longer if I do
I keep falling in and out of love with you
Falling in and out of love with you
Don't know what I'm gonna do
I just keep falling in and out of love with you"
Pure Prairie League on the radio
The trouble is, I have never fallen out of love with God. But I have searched long and hard for substitutes, which satisfy for a time, but never long enough. Now that I am old with gray hair, I can see that God never really planned for me to love anyone as much as I love Him.
I'm not going to claim that this life is for everyone, but it seems to suit me. And if God wills it, I will succeed. And if God wills something else, I will accept that with joy also.
This is my side of the mountain. As I make my way back to Him, this is my path. Sometimes I'll get to share it with others and sometimes I'll walk alone, but I hope I am done with trying to walk someone else's path. I am high on the sheer joy of waking up to my own place in this world. Odd as it is, it belongs to me.
Now as to the Steinway that entered my life a couple of days ago. I know pianos. I have played as many as I can find. I have ventured into doors that were supposed to be locked and tried them out. I have played on stage when no one was around and I have played on stage to screaming college students...and no, I am not ready to open up that story...for a long LONG time. But when I stumble on something of beauty, I am captivated by it.
Such was the Steinway this last week. I am coveting it. I want to know it and I want it to know me. It has a color unlike any I have heard in a long long time...and it has stirred up feelings I thought were dead. I long to hear it sing and I long to make it sing. I remember a person who I thought I was, and I remember what I knew I would have to give up were I to follow that dream...and I knew it was just to much to give up. I had made commitments and people were depending on me. What I could have done then, what I might have been...sits in a mist that I thought was dead. Now I wonder, what God intends to show me by waking up this dream again.
When I play, the beast in me calms. When I play, the beast in my neighbor calms. It is an expression of prayer that transcends our words and reaches to God in a direct line precisely because it does not have to be filtered through speech.
I recall the Brahms again, when I realized I had played it perfectly, I was stunned by its beauty. And it almost killed me.
Such is the feeling of a miracle. You do what God asks you and He decides to let you see it fulfilled. He shows you the other side of the mountain. He shows you, in fleeting moments, how good things can be when we just rest in Him and let Him take us through the storm. It is the most wonderful feeling in the world. Truly it is the joy of a young bride in anticipation of bringing new life into the world.
Or an old one: (from today's reading from Genesis)
They asked Abraham, "Where is your wife Sarah?"
He replied, "There in the tent."
One of them said, "I will surely return to you about this time next year,
and Sarah will then have a son."
Give Him your best and He will give you His best.
I'm going to stop here for now. I need to pray.
Love, Cindy
Friday, July 16, 2010
Change is good...You go first!
I will try to write a few words about what has happened in the last few days. It is so hard to do, because it all seemed so perfect, so very much like I have finally come home to Him.
I feel like the prodigal daughter, still practically clueless, but having a hunger so great and overpowering that it is dragging me in my weakness to my only real home, the one from whence I came and the one where I always knew I would have to return someday.
Augustine wrote something like, "Oh, Lord, save me...but not right now!"
I feel like all the pieces of my life are falling into place, all them beginning at last to make sense...and the idea that God would want me after all these years of denying Him and defying Him...and that He would allow me to manifest my love for Him withing the walls of the Catholic Church...the joy of this knowledge is almost too much to bear...
And almost too scary to write down.
You see, it is almost always true that when we tell our secrets, much of the magic of them goes away. Some of their power of them over us leaves them.
From The Princess Bride:
"I must know your name!" "Get used to disappointment."
From Viktor Frankl:
Not a quote, but a summation: Suffering, once it has a name, ceases to be suffering."
From Exodus 3:
"But," said Moses to God, "when I go to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' if they ask me, 'What is his name?' what am I to tell them?" God replied, "I am who am." Then he added, "This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you." God spoke further to Moses, "Thus shall you say to the Israelites: The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, has sent me to you. "This is my name forever; this is my title for all generations.
There is power, both good and bad, in the revealing of secrets. Ultimately, when we reveal our secrets, we discover our truth and God's truth and how those two things weave together to make us who we are. And each time we tell our truth, we discover God's truth and we are set more free from the chains that keep us from our Divinely Loving Creator.
We tell our story. Over and over again. Until we get it right. Then we know the truth in our hearts. And we are free.
I kind of think that is the way of confession. Some of us confess the same sins over and over and over. I am thinking that perhaps that is because we are still fearful of telling our truth. We tell part of our truth, thinking that is enough...but it never is. We have to tell the truth...otherwise, our sin, if it really is a sin, still has power over us. Sometimes, as we tell our truth, we discover that we have not sinned, but we have thought that we have sinned, because we choose to tell ourselves only part of our truth. It works both ways. We hide ourselves from knowing our true sins, or we can condemn ourselves because it is easier than facing something good about ourselves.
Sr. Maria indirectly asked me an important question this weekend: "What gift are you hiding from us?" Oh hell, I thought, she went right for my heart! And how wise and wonderful she is to know, perhaps on faith alone, that I needed to be challenged in that way...or perhaps she did not have a clue...but I doubt that.
"What gift are you hiding from us?" What do you have inside you that you ultimately know is a treasure that needs to be shared? What are you afraid of exposing to the light in great fear, that, if exposed to the light, might not really be a treasure at all...just an illusion. Or worse, if you truly have a gift, and someone else sees it, then you would be demanded by God to share it.
A small passage of The Little Prince: He goes to a planet where there lives only one man. This man is very proud. When he sees the Little Prince, he says to himself, "Here comes someone to honor me." And he asks the Little Prince, "Do you not think I am the most wonderful man on this planet?" and the Little Prince replies, "You are the only man on this planet!" "Well," says the man, "still, you must tell me I am the most wonderful man on this planet." The Little Prince replies sadly, "You are the most wonderful man on this planet."
Or something like that. The point being, yes, it is a truth...but it is not the truth. And I think we are all searching for truth. We will know the truth when we find it...and when we do, we will no longer have any questions.
So I have this truth, which may or may not be the truth. I think I have found my real home. I have fought it with a bunch of other truths that we not really truths.
I have written again and again that I talk to the moon. I talk to God all day long, every minute of every day. I feel desperately sad and lonely when I am not in conversation with Him. And I think I have found a place to be where that way of living will not be considered strange. And I think I have found a place where I can continue to write and share all I can in such a way, that those who might want to find God at this level might find my words a bit helpful as they struggle on their own path to their own truths.
God has given me everything I have asked for. And I think I have asked for some hard things. I am still stunned by how He has answered my prayers. And I am stunned by how He has used me to help others. I would like to tell you about yesterday, but it is too soon...I need the people involved to forget that they were involved and that way I have not invaded their privacy. But I can tell you that for each of us, God is working a huge billion piece puzzle that for me, is starting to make sense.
And He has given me the most precious gifts in human beings who have their eyes open to the possibility of something new and good and wonderful...and I am humbled that they are willing to give some of their life to me to help me along my way. And I am so very drawn to give my life to them in very much the same way.
My vow is to You, my Sweet Lord. Complete me, then use me up. Let me be a source of joy to those who seek joy and a source of truth to those who seek truth. Let me never assume to know Your Plan, let me move through this life both freely and blindly, seeing only what You want me to see, being Your Hands of healing, Your Eyes of acceptance, Your ears of compassion, Your Heart of unceasing and unconditional love. Let me disappear into You. Only there will I find who I am and who you created me to be. Thank you for my life. Thank You for my life. Thank You for waking me to Your love.
Love, Cindy
I feel like the prodigal daughter, still practically clueless, but having a hunger so great and overpowering that it is dragging me in my weakness to my only real home, the one from whence I came and the one where I always knew I would have to return someday.
Augustine wrote something like, "Oh, Lord, save me...but not right now!"
I feel like all the pieces of my life are falling into place, all them beginning at last to make sense...and the idea that God would want me after all these years of denying Him and defying Him...and that He would allow me to manifest my love for Him withing the walls of the Catholic Church...the joy of this knowledge is almost too much to bear...
And almost too scary to write down.
You see, it is almost always true that when we tell our secrets, much of the magic of them goes away. Some of their power of them over us leaves them.
From The Princess Bride:
"I must know your name!" "Get used to disappointment."
From Viktor Frankl:
Not a quote, but a summation: Suffering, once it has a name, ceases to be suffering."
From Exodus 3:
"But," said Moses to God, "when I go to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' if they ask me, 'What is his name?' what am I to tell them?" God replied, "I am who am." Then he added, "This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you." God spoke further to Moses, "Thus shall you say to the Israelites: The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, has sent me to you. "This is my name forever; this is my title for all generations.
There is power, both good and bad, in the revealing of secrets. Ultimately, when we reveal our secrets, we discover our truth and God's truth and how those two things weave together to make us who we are. And each time we tell our truth, we discover God's truth and we are set more free from the chains that keep us from our Divinely Loving Creator.
We tell our story. Over and over again. Until we get it right. Then we know the truth in our hearts. And we are free.
I kind of think that is the way of confession. Some of us confess the same sins over and over and over. I am thinking that perhaps that is because we are still fearful of telling our truth. We tell part of our truth, thinking that is enough...but it never is. We have to tell the truth...otherwise, our sin, if it really is a sin, still has power over us. Sometimes, as we tell our truth, we discover that we have not sinned, but we have thought that we have sinned, because we choose to tell ourselves only part of our truth. It works both ways. We hide ourselves from knowing our true sins, or we can condemn ourselves because it is easier than facing something good about ourselves.
Sr. Maria indirectly asked me an important question this weekend: "What gift are you hiding from us?" Oh hell, I thought, she went right for my heart! And how wise and wonderful she is to know, perhaps on faith alone, that I needed to be challenged in that way...or perhaps she did not have a clue...but I doubt that.
"What gift are you hiding from us?" What do you have inside you that you ultimately know is a treasure that needs to be shared? What are you afraid of exposing to the light in great fear, that, if exposed to the light, might not really be a treasure at all...just an illusion. Or worse, if you truly have a gift, and someone else sees it, then you would be demanded by God to share it.
A small passage of The Little Prince: He goes to a planet where there lives only one man. This man is very proud. When he sees the Little Prince, he says to himself, "Here comes someone to honor me." And he asks the Little Prince, "Do you not think I am the most wonderful man on this planet?" and the Little Prince replies, "You are the only man on this planet!" "Well," says the man, "still, you must tell me I am the most wonderful man on this planet." The Little Prince replies sadly, "You are the most wonderful man on this planet."
Or something like that. The point being, yes, it is a truth...but it is not the truth. And I think we are all searching for truth. We will know the truth when we find it...and when we do, we will no longer have any questions.
So I have this truth, which may or may not be the truth. I think I have found my real home. I have fought it with a bunch of other truths that we not really truths.
I have written again and again that I talk to the moon. I talk to God all day long, every minute of every day. I feel desperately sad and lonely when I am not in conversation with Him. And I think I have found a place to be where that way of living will not be considered strange. And I think I have found a place where I can continue to write and share all I can in such a way, that those who might want to find God at this level might find my words a bit helpful as they struggle on their own path to their own truths.
God has given me everything I have asked for. And I think I have asked for some hard things. I am still stunned by how He has answered my prayers. And I am stunned by how He has used me to help others. I would like to tell you about yesterday, but it is too soon...I need the people involved to forget that they were involved and that way I have not invaded their privacy. But I can tell you that for each of us, God is working a huge billion piece puzzle that for me, is starting to make sense.
And He has given me the most precious gifts in human beings who have their eyes open to the possibility of something new and good and wonderful...and I am humbled that they are willing to give some of their life to me to help me along my way. And I am so very drawn to give my life to them in very much the same way.
My vow is to You, my Sweet Lord. Complete me, then use me up. Let me be a source of joy to those who seek joy and a source of truth to those who seek truth. Let me never assume to know Your Plan, let me move through this life both freely and blindly, seeing only what You want me to see, being Your Hands of healing, Your Eyes of acceptance, Your ears of compassion, Your Heart of unceasing and unconditional love. Let me disappear into You. Only there will I find who I am and who you created me to be. Thank you for my life. Thank You for my life. Thank You for waking me to Your love.
Love, Cindy
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Because she wrote about fireflies and stars
Because she wrote about fireflies and stars and theology
Because he said the right thing two days before
Because she didn't talk with me all week
Because we had to ride together
Because it was raining
Because we laughed so hard at inappropriate times
Because she held my hand
Because she smiled at me
Because he smiled at me
Because it was raining
Because it was sunny
Because we had to walk through bird poop
Because she offered a ride
Because she showed me her office
Because they rang the bells
Because the room had two windows
Because I had a quiet place to sit
Because I found the cemetery
Because I walked the labyrinth
Because they had a washing machine
Because I got to pray over her with them
Because there was chocolate on my desk
Because they said I could wear my ring
Because she had a denim habit
Because the van made funny noises
Because we ate chicken three times is a row
Because she said, "Traveling makes you hungry, huh?"
Because the piano keys stuck
Because she remembered my name
Because I sang for Him in the abbey
Because we were silent at breakfast
Because we talked at breakfast
Because the wheelchair bumped into my back
Because I lost my key
Because she found it
Because she drove us to Mass
Because they didn't mind my wrong notes
Because the monk said I looked like his cousin
Because there was a balcony
Because I sat in the swing
Because I read to her the hours in the car
Because we lost three dollars at the casino
Because her mother loved her enough to let her go
Because she loved me as a daughter
Because she asked "What gift are you hiding from us?"
Because she blessed us before we left
Because I rang the bell
Because I didn't run away
Because he believed me
Because he believed in me
Because he listened
Because they welcomed me
Because she gave me a shawl
Because she told me it didn't matter
Because she was there
Because he was there
Because he accepted me just as I am
Because he loved me
Because she loved me
Because we prayed together
Because we cried together
Because she gave me away
Because they brought me along
Because I was able to say yes
Because of all of you
Who dared to love me
Just as I am
Because He loved you first.
Thank you.
Love, Cindy
Because he said the right thing two days before
Because she didn't talk with me all week
Because we had to ride together
Because it was raining
Because we laughed so hard at inappropriate times
Because she held my hand
Because she smiled at me
Because he smiled at me
Because it was raining
Because it was sunny
Because we had to walk through bird poop
Because she offered a ride
Because she showed me her office
Because they rang the bells
Because the room had two windows
Because I had a quiet place to sit
Because I found the cemetery
Because I walked the labyrinth
Because they had a washing machine
Because I got to pray over her with them
Because there was chocolate on my desk
Because they said I could wear my ring
Because she had a denim habit
Because the van made funny noises
Because we ate chicken three times is a row
Because she said, "Traveling makes you hungry, huh?"
Because the piano keys stuck
Because she remembered my name
Because I sang for Him in the abbey
Because we were silent at breakfast
Because we talked at breakfast
Because the wheelchair bumped into my back
Because I lost my key
Because she found it
Because she drove us to Mass
Because they didn't mind my wrong notes
Because the monk said I looked like his cousin
Because there was a balcony
Because I sat in the swing
Because I read to her the hours in the car
Because we lost three dollars at the casino
Because her mother loved her enough to let her go
Because she loved me as a daughter
Because she asked "What gift are you hiding from us?"
Because she blessed us before we left
Because I rang the bell
Because I didn't run away
Because he believed me
Because he believed in me
Because he listened
Because they welcomed me
Because she gave me a shawl
Because she told me it didn't matter
Because she was there
Because he was there
Because he accepted me just as I am
Because he loved me
Because she loved me
Because we prayed together
Because we cried together
Because she gave me away
Because they brought me along
Because I was able to say yes
Because of all of you
Who dared to love me
Just as I am
Because He loved you first.
Thank you.
Love, Cindy
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Second Cup of Coffee
I really need to update my computer skills. I wish I could show you my second cup of coffee. I did a pressed pot this morning. (4:09 am now) It is an old cafe mug. I have about 10 of them. They are small and hold the heat well. Restaurant cups. Ceramic but so thick that if you drop them, they generally don't break. The house I live in now is larger than the house I lived in when I was married, but is not as nice. The floor in my kitchen in the other house was softer. When I dropped things, they generally did not break.
I can hear Fr. Gabriel's oboe in another tab. Music soothes the savage beast. Better said perhaps, the savage beast within us. The argument of the movie was that if the indigenous tribes of the southern Americas did not have souls, then it was right and proper to enslave them. That was the argument of the Portuguese government during the colonial period. The Jesuits, however, had another idea. At the time, the battle between church and state was very hot. In this movie, the Church bends itself to the state to retain the power it still held after the Reformation...
Ah, religion and politics. We keep forcing them together.
I don't understand why. God trumps everything. He doesn't need to be written into man's law for that to happen. We are so arrogant to think that God can't do it
without us! He wins. Every damn time. I know. I have fought Him and fought Him, and still He wins.
I also know it is a fine line I draw. Yes, our faith should inform our political structure, but I think perhaps, when we 'write it down,' we are actually trying to limit God's involvement in our activity. I'm not saying that I'm right, but it is how I feel.
Jeremiah tells us that God says there will come a day when the Law will not be necessary, that He will be written on our hearts. We won't have to look up in a book to find out how we are supposed to behave. We will know. And Paul tells us that as long as we live under the Law, we will die by the Law.
So why are so many Christians using their energies to change the Law? Shouldn't we be working at turning hearts and minds to God instead? I don't know.
In my understanding of God and God's grace, He works from the bottom up, not from the top down. He went to the tax collectors and the poor. He cured lepers and healed the blind. He didn't go and have long conversations with politicians...well, he did once and we all know how that ended.
You change the world by being the change the world needs.
Like in the movie "The Mission." You climb the cliff, even when the water is flowing in the other direction...and its dangerous. And you don't start telling them all the things they are doing 'wrong,' and give them a prayer book or a Bible and say "this is the real law." You sit on a rock and you play music for them. You sing to them. You pray aloud and let them hear your prayers. You hold them, you feed them, you listen to them.
And they have every right to tell you to go away or even kill you. But I am so naive that I believe if you do your work with a pure heart, and maybe even if its not pure, you help open a door or a window for God.
John Wesley came to this country to evangelize those 'poor native Americans' and was pretty much thrown out on his ear. Hubris. Pride. Arrogance. He thought he was going to teach them about God. But instead, others taught him about God.
I came to love you, but somehow, somewhere along the way, the tables turned, and you loved me. And things will never be the same again. That's how God works. He takes our little agendas and turns them on their head. And everyone gets blessed.
The undercurrent here is obedience. As long as I remain obedient to God's will...or as obedient as I can to what I think is God's will...and then be willing to bend like a reed as He needs me to...then it all works for and to the glory of God.
I can't believe I am writing that. But it is true.
Time for a third cup of coffee.
And I am so very much not finished.
I have come to love you.
Maybe that's not what He said, but that's what He meant. A woman knows those things. Mary knew. Even at the foot of the cross. She knew. And she knew, with her Son, it worked.
Love, Cindy
I can hear Fr. Gabriel's oboe in another tab. Music soothes the savage beast. Better said perhaps, the savage beast within us. The argument of the movie was that if the indigenous tribes of the southern Americas did not have souls, then it was right and proper to enslave them. That was the argument of the Portuguese government during the colonial period. The Jesuits, however, had another idea. At the time, the battle between church and state was very hot. In this movie, the Church bends itself to the state to retain the power it still held after the Reformation...
Ah, religion and politics. We keep forcing them together.
I don't understand why. God trumps everything. He doesn't need to be written into man's law for that to happen. We are so arrogant to think that God can't do it
without us! He wins. Every damn time. I know. I have fought Him and fought Him, and still He wins.
I also know it is a fine line I draw. Yes, our faith should inform our political structure, but I think perhaps, when we 'write it down,' we are actually trying to limit God's involvement in our activity. I'm not saying that I'm right, but it is how I feel.
Jeremiah tells us that God says there will come a day when the Law will not be necessary, that He will be written on our hearts. We won't have to look up in a book to find out how we are supposed to behave. We will know. And Paul tells us that as long as we live under the Law, we will die by the Law.
So why are so many Christians using their energies to change the Law? Shouldn't we be working at turning hearts and minds to God instead? I don't know.
In my understanding of God and God's grace, He works from the bottom up, not from the top down. He went to the tax collectors and the poor. He cured lepers and healed the blind. He didn't go and have long conversations with politicians...well, he did once and we all know how that ended.
You change the world by being the change the world needs.
Like in the movie "The Mission." You climb the cliff, even when the water is flowing in the other direction...and its dangerous. And you don't start telling them all the things they are doing 'wrong,' and give them a prayer book or a Bible and say "this is the real law." You sit on a rock and you play music for them. You sing to them. You pray aloud and let them hear your prayers. You hold them, you feed them, you listen to them.
And they have every right to tell you to go away or even kill you. But I am so naive that I believe if you do your work with a pure heart, and maybe even if its not pure, you help open a door or a window for God.
John Wesley came to this country to evangelize those 'poor native Americans' and was pretty much thrown out on his ear. Hubris. Pride. Arrogance. He thought he was going to teach them about God. But instead, others taught him about God.
I came to love you, but somehow, somewhere along the way, the tables turned, and you loved me. And things will never be the same again. That's how God works. He takes our little agendas and turns them on their head. And everyone gets blessed.
The undercurrent here is obedience. As long as I remain obedient to God's will...or as obedient as I can to what I think is God's will...and then be willing to bend like a reed as He needs me to...then it all works for and to the glory of God.
I can't believe I am writing that. But it is true.
Time for a third cup of coffee.
And I am so very much not finished.
I have come to love you.
Maybe that's not what He said, but that's what He meant. A woman knows those things. Mary knew. Even at the foot of the cross. She knew. And she knew, with her Son, it worked.
Love, Cindy
Monday, July 5, 2010
Bread Crumbs
Not completely comfortable with exposing my views on that last entry. But I have decided that I need to be as transparent as possible. When I went before the Board of Ministry, I was coached to just 'tell them what they want to hear.' I failed. There is some part of me that is truly, madly, deeply convinced that many of us are just not doing our 'thing' with God quite right. In my arrogance, I share with you my strange path, because I think that you can look at it and then tell yourself that your personal encounter with God is not strange.
Listen to Him. I am convinced He is talking to you every minute of every day. To each of us, every minute of every day. That's why Elijah had to go into the desert and wait for the still small voice. That's why Jesus, each time he took another big step, another risk, he 'went up into the mountain to pray.' Sometimes you just gotta get away and let it all happen to you, just as He wants it to.
I don't have a mountain nearby...so I have to settle for what I can find. I know of a woman who locks herself in the bathroom to pray. People hungry for God make do.
So my thought is, I'm leaving you bread crumbs. Little pieces of ideas, so that you can find your way.
It is so very good, to be with God. It makes life make sense. Nothing matters and everything matters, and you realize you are never ever alone...and if you choose to believe, you really can work miracles in your life and in others.
I am not talking about 'the power of intention' here or 'a course on miracles.' I'm talking about God. Beginning, end, middle. There is a difference. A huge difference.
Zen is fine, but it is choosing to live in one dimension, while contemplation is choosing to rest in God, who is all dimensions...is dimension-less. Does that help? If you are going to try, don't settle for less than everything...and everything is what He wants to give you.
Bread crumbs. Even I can't sort it out. I have to walk my path. According to the laws of physics, I can either be an observer of my life or a participant in it. But then, that is just physics. We are so much more than that.
When you reach that contemplative state, the laws of physics no longer apply. When Jesus says, "with You in Me and Me in You and Us in them..." all of that makes perfect sense, if sense is the right word...but you get it. I get it. I feel it.
I can stand in a congregation and share in the energy of the room and it can almost slay me, the prayers that pour forth from hearts yearning to connect to the grand Divine. I know some of you feel it, too. It is joy. We are so much more than flesh and bone.
Bread crumbs. Sometimes I don't have a clue why I write or say or do what I do. Perhaps ten, fifteen years ago, or longer, I gave up trying to understand it. I know I will say and do outrageous things sometimes. But they all have a purpose.
I know that the violence in my own home and being trapped there for so long kind of trained me to try to solve problems in very unorthodox ways. I can remember trying to explain to my parents why we needed to get along and it was like talking to a stone wall.
Yesterday, I got a message from a woman I was in theater with in high school. She reminded me of how my I loved my high school speech coach, Mama G. She (Mama G) was a little bit of sanity in an insane world. Or not. She talked me out of getting married at 16. I wanted so desperately to escape where I was. But she showed me my gift in speaking. And I won a lot of trophies and traveled all over Texas and met some really smart people. And they all wore suits! I showed up head to toe in black, and with my long blonde hair, I came home wih hardware (trophies) every week.
I recall (and I can write this now finally) that when I won first place in poetry in the Dallas Skyline Speech Tourney (and I was the only one who won anything that weekend), I told her I wanted a six pack of Coors as my reward (back then, we could not get Coors beer in San Antonio). And I took a photo of her coming out of a liquor store with my beer...and I was all of 16 at the time. Now this woman loved me. I loved her. I don't remember if she let me drink it in her car...I'm thinking she made me wait until I got back to San Antonio. But that woman loved me.
In fact, I might have even taken the bottle of Scotch I kept under my bed and put it in the closet, because Mama G gave me that beer.
Bread crumbs. What in the world allows a child to live life the way I did? Hmmmm. And even then, this child wanted and craved God. But she did what she could to survive.
I remember that and I look very hard at the teenagers I encounter now. I look hard for the signs...for the bread crumbs...that can tip me off and just maybe I can stop a great big ugly before it happens.
And I hate the fact that I can see the bread crumbs. And then I am grateful that I can see the bread crumbs. And I pray like hell that God will give me the right words to say, however outrageous they might be...and just maybe one more child will know that he or she doesn't have to live in hell any longer, that there is a way out.
And then, after I'm all messed up inside from having to awaken things I'd have rather kept asleep...and I go to God in prayer and cry it out of me all over again and realize once more, what He did for me. That He loved me without reason, but just because I'm here...and has blessed me with so many good things...
And then I'm okay again, until I have to go back into the darkness, look for bread crumbs and reach out for another hand...
Love, Cindy
Listen to Him. I am convinced He is talking to you every minute of every day. To each of us, every minute of every day. That's why Elijah had to go into the desert and wait for the still small voice. That's why Jesus, each time he took another big step, another risk, he 'went up into the mountain to pray.' Sometimes you just gotta get away and let it all happen to you, just as He wants it to.
I don't have a mountain nearby...so I have to settle for what I can find. I know of a woman who locks herself in the bathroom to pray. People hungry for God make do.
So my thought is, I'm leaving you bread crumbs. Little pieces of ideas, so that you can find your way.
It is so very good, to be with God. It makes life make sense. Nothing matters and everything matters, and you realize you are never ever alone...and if you choose to believe, you really can work miracles in your life and in others.
I am not talking about 'the power of intention' here or 'a course on miracles.' I'm talking about God. Beginning, end, middle. There is a difference. A huge difference.
Zen is fine, but it is choosing to live in one dimension, while contemplation is choosing to rest in God, who is all dimensions...is dimension-less. Does that help? If you are going to try, don't settle for less than everything...and everything is what He wants to give you.
Bread crumbs. Even I can't sort it out. I have to walk my path. According to the laws of physics, I can either be an observer of my life or a participant in it. But then, that is just physics. We are so much more than that.
When you reach that contemplative state, the laws of physics no longer apply. When Jesus says, "with You in Me and Me in You and Us in them..." all of that makes perfect sense, if sense is the right word...but you get it. I get it. I feel it.
I can stand in a congregation and share in the energy of the room and it can almost slay me, the prayers that pour forth from hearts yearning to connect to the grand Divine. I know some of you feel it, too. It is joy. We are so much more than flesh and bone.
Bread crumbs. Sometimes I don't have a clue why I write or say or do what I do. Perhaps ten, fifteen years ago, or longer, I gave up trying to understand it. I know I will say and do outrageous things sometimes. But they all have a purpose.
I know that the violence in my own home and being trapped there for so long kind of trained me to try to solve problems in very unorthodox ways. I can remember trying to explain to my parents why we needed to get along and it was like talking to a stone wall.
Yesterday, I got a message from a woman I was in theater with in high school. She reminded me of how my I loved my high school speech coach, Mama G. She (Mama G) was a little bit of sanity in an insane world. Or not. She talked me out of getting married at 16. I wanted so desperately to escape where I was. But she showed me my gift in speaking. And I won a lot of trophies and traveled all over Texas and met some really smart people. And they all wore suits! I showed up head to toe in black, and with my long blonde hair, I came home wih hardware (trophies) every week.
I recall (and I can write this now finally) that when I won first place in poetry in the Dallas Skyline Speech Tourney (and I was the only one who won anything that weekend), I told her I wanted a six pack of Coors as my reward (back then, we could not get Coors beer in San Antonio). And I took a photo of her coming out of a liquor store with my beer...and I was all of 16 at the time. Now this woman loved me. I loved her. I don't remember if she let me drink it in her car...I'm thinking she made me wait until I got back to San Antonio. But that woman loved me.
In fact, I might have even taken the bottle of Scotch I kept under my bed and put it in the closet, because Mama G gave me that beer.
Bread crumbs. What in the world allows a child to live life the way I did? Hmmmm. And even then, this child wanted and craved God. But she did what she could to survive.
I remember that and I look very hard at the teenagers I encounter now. I look hard for the signs...for the bread crumbs...that can tip me off and just maybe I can stop a great big ugly before it happens.
And I hate the fact that I can see the bread crumbs. And then I am grateful that I can see the bread crumbs. And I pray like hell that God will give me the right words to say, however outrageous they might be...and just maybe one more child will know that he or she doesn't have to live in hell any longer, that there is a way out.
And then, after I'm all messed up inside from having to awaken things I'd have rather kept asleep...and I go to God in prayer and cry it out of me all over again and realize once more, what He did for me. That He loved me without reason, but just because I'm here...and has blessed me with so many good things...
And then I'm okay again, until I have to go back into the darkness, look for bread crumbs and reach out for another hand...
Love, Cindy
Sunday, July 4, 2010
And God Created Woman...
The LORD God said: "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a suitable partner for him." So the LORD God formed out of the ground various wild animals and various birds of the air, and he brought them to the man to see what he would call them; whatever the man called each of them would be its name. The man gave names to all the cattle, all the birds of the air, and all the wild animals; but none proved to be the suitable partner for the man. So the LORD God cast a deep sleep on the man, and while he was asleep, he took out one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. The LORD God then built up into a woman the rib that he had taken from the man. When he brought her to the man, the man said: "This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; This one shall be called 'woman,' for out of 'her man' this one has been taken."Genesis 2: 19-23
I have been thinking about this since last Wednesday. I was in conversation with a priest. I told him I wanted to start my own order: Our Lady of the Levis, and we would all wear jeans. He told me that nuns and sisters could not wear jeans. I asked why. He said because it shows their shape.
Excuse me?
So we wear a sack cloth because men can't discipline themselves? I am thinking and hoping that whatever came out of my mouth was reasonably polite. Is this system as archaic as that? I seem to remember saying, "Well, they let men wear pants. It shows their shape, too." Sigh...another black mark against me in the Church. Thank heaven God is more reasonable!
I am confused. God made us, men and women, beautiful on purpose. He made us to be attractive to each other, right? That way we would procreate. We could perpetuate the species. It's a win-win situation.
Choosing the religious life is a deliberate free-will choice to, in the place of a specific human spouse, to choose the church as a spouse. This means to me what John of the Cross said, and I paraphrase: to love everything, one must desire to possess nothing. Including a spouse. At least in the Roman Catholic way. And I lean toward support of that doctrine, perhaps even more for women than for men. Women I think, hold a greater desire to protect the individual family. Men, I have observed, are more able to compartmentalize their feelings. They can do a job and have a family and they don't seem to encounter the conflict that many women do. Women are more aesthetic. They want it all to go together.
Hence the quagmire I have created for myself.
Shakespeare recognizes our constant battle, and makes sport of it:
The way it begins:
Katerina: "Asses are made to bear and so are you."
Petruchio: "Women are made to bear and so are you."
Katerina: "No such jade as you, if me you mean."
Act 2 Scene 1 "Taming of the Shrew"
And of course, the way it ends:
Petruchio: "Nay, I will win my wager better yet and show more signs of her obedience, Her new built virtue and obedience." Act 5 Scene 1
"To the woman he said: "I will intensify the pangs of your childbearing; in pain shall you bring forth children. Yet your urge shall be for your husband, and he shall be your master." Genesis 3:16
In the Jerusalem Bible it says, "Your yearning will be for your husband and he will lord it over you."
Sigh...it is true. Power corrupts. There is so much more to say here, but I will leave it for another day.
I was at Panera on Friday and I saw a woman, in the very humid heat, covered from head to foot, with only her eyes visible to me, wearing a heavy black fabric outfit. No doubt she values her religion and her faith very much. I can admire that.
I value my faith and my religion very much also.
But I like wearing jeans. I do not see how wearing them would inhibit my ability to preach and live out the gospel. I'm thinking God gave me these blue eyes to draw people in, to get curious about me and then be surprised that I am all about God. God gave me a curious voice that people like to hear...and when I speak words from the Bible or pray, I think some people understand better and more. God hav me the gift of playing the piano, that, when I am in a state of prayer, actually calms and centers people in their own prayers.
Whatever beauty I possess, I offer it to God to use as He pleases. It is not meant to be a distraction, but an attraction...to the life I am trying to live.
There has got to be a better way. I just heard this morning about a woman who was terribly abused...and she is pregnant again. I am sad for her and praying that she will not kill this child, but these kinds of things have just got to stop. Wearing a bag for clothes will not stop or change that behavior. We have to find a way to claim beauty as a part of God's design and not as a symbol of some kind of power over each other. God didn't mean for us to mistreat and use one another.
He wants us to love one another. And I'm frustrated because...it seems we are spinning our wheels staring at the wrong things.
OK...I'll be quiet now...but only for a little while.
Love, Cindy
I have been thinking about this since last Wednesday. I was in conversation with a priest. I told him I wanted to start my own order: Our Lady of the Levis, and we would all wear jeans. He told me that nuns and sisters could not wear jeans. I asked why. He said because it shows their shape.
Excuse me?
So we wear a sack cloth because men can't discipline themselves? I am thinking and hoping that whatever came out of my mouth was reasonably polite. Is this system as archaic as that? I seem to remember saying, "Well, they let men wear pants. It shows their shape, too." Sigh...another black mark against me in the Church. Thank heaven God is more reasonable!
I am confused. God made us, men and women, beautiful on purpose. He made us to be attractive to each other, right? That way we would procreate. We could perpetuate the species. It's a win-win situation.
Choosing the religious life is a deliberate free-will choice to, in the place of a specific human spouse, to choose the church as a spouse. This means to me what John of the Cross said, and I paraphrase: to love everything, one must desire to possess nothing. Including a spouse. At least in the Roman Catholic way. And I lean toward support of that doctrine, perhaps even more for women than for men. Women I think, hold a greater desire to protect the individual family. Men, I have observed, are more able to compartmentalize their feelings. They can do a job and have a family and they don't seem to encounter the conflict that many women do. Women are more aesthetic. They want it all to go together.
Hence the quagmire I have created for myself.
Shakespeare recognizes our constant battle, and makes sport of it:
The way it begins:
Katerina: "Asses are made to bear and so are you."
Petruchio: "Women are made to bear and so are you."
Katerina: "No such jade as you, if me you mean."
Act 2 Scene 1 "Taming of the Shrew"
And of course, the way it ends:
Petruchio: "Nay, I will win my wager better yet and show more signs of her obedience, Her new built virtue and obedience." Act 5 Scene 1
"To the woman he said: "I will intensify the pangs of your childbearing; in pain shall you bring forth children. Yet your urge shall be for your husband, and he shall be your master." Genesis 3:16
In the Jerusalem Bible it says, "Your yearning will be for your husband and he will lord it over you."
Sigh...it is true. Power corrupts. There is so much more to say here, but I will leave it for another day.
I was at Panera on Friday and I saw a woman, in the very humid heat, covered from head to foot, with only her eyes visible to me, wearing a heavy black fabric outfit. No doubt she values her religion and her faith very much. I can admire that.
I value my faith and my religion very much also.
But I like wearing jeans. I do not see how wearing them would inhibit my ability to preach and live out the gospel. I'm thinking God gave me these blue eyes to draw people in, to get curious about me and then be surprised that I am all about God. God gave me a curious voice that people like to hear...and when I speak words from the Bible or pray, I think some people understand better and more. God hav me the gift of playing the piano, that, when I am in a state of prayer, actually calms and centers people in their own prayers.
Whatever beauty I possess, I offer it to God to use as He pleases. It is not meant to be a distraction, but an attraction...to the life I am trying to live.
There has got to be a better way. I just heard this morning about a woman who was terribly abused...and she is pregnant again. I am sad for her and praying that she will not kill this child, but these kinds of things have just got to stop. Wearing a bag for clothes will not stop or change that behavior. We have to find a way to claim beauty as a part of God's design and not as a symbol of some kind of power over each other. God didn't mean for us to mistreat and use one another.
He wants us to love one another. And I'm frustrated because...it seems we are spinning our wheels staring at the wrong things.
OK...I'll be quiet now...but only for a little while.
Love, Cindy
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Seeing Beyond
I have many favorite photos of my daughter Beth. It was just so amazing that her little body came from me, that life was formed and there she was: this little person with her own thoughts and ideas, seeing the word in her own very special way.
I have this one photo that would seem like nothing to anyone else, but to me, it makes the moment that changed everything for both of us.
She was lying in her playpen, about four months old, too small to crawl but strong enough to lift her head several inches off the mat. Many times she did this, looking forward at the white cloth mesh in front of her, that protected her from 'outside forces.' I was laying on the floor with the Pentax (heavens that was a wonderful camera!) and watching her as I always did. She was looking at the white mesh, curious as ever, and then it happened.
She looked beyond the mesh. She could see outside of her little contained space. And she could see me...and she began to cry.
I'll never forget it. Her brain made the connection. It was one of her first "aha!" moments and I was there.
She saw me and she began to cry. She wanted me. The smell of me, the touch of me, the sound of my voice, my heartbeat. The cry was distinctive.
I put the camera down and I picked her up. And we were together. (Heavens, how I long for her to want me, just for a second, that way again now...)
And maybe that's how it works with God, too. Maybe.
He creates us, inside of Him. He gives us life and form and meaning. And then He gives birth to us. And puts us in a safe place. Protected from all the 'blue meanies' in this world. We think everything is perfect in our little world. We have our blankie and our kitty and maybe a bottle of milk nearby...then one day,
BOOM! the world changes because we can see beyond the wall that separated us from our mother. Our creator. And we lament until we can return to her arms.
Only once we get out of our little garden, and once we think we feel secure enough that Mama is there, we start exploring this new world. All this new stuff! Wow! What's that? Oh, that's scratchy! Oh, that's tear-able! Oh, that's hot! Ouch! Mom!
I hurt! Mom! I'm hungry! Mom! I'm wet! Mom! I need your heart!
Out of the garden. We don't have a choice, really. We all have to leave the garden. Sometime. We have to learn to see beyond.
In the beginning, we can only see what we don't have. And then we want it. We have to learn about what we can have and what we can't have. We learn about what is good for us and what can hurt us. We love and we win and we lose. We give ourselves away. We receive from others. We play in the fields of life. We learn. We see beyond what we are to what we can be and most of us, I think, strive to be more than just the flesh and blood that makes us alive. We work hard at being human.
Then, when the time is right, we go back to the garden. To the safe place, where He first placed us. Then, when we see beyond, we see beyond the beyond...and we rest in Him, because we have everything we need, everything we ever will need...right there in His arms.
I don't know if this one works...but it will do for now.
Love, Cindy
I have this one photo that would seem like nothing to anyone else, but to me, it makes the moment that changed everything for both of us.
She was lying in her playpen, about four months old, too small to crawl but strong enough to lift her head several inches off the mat. Many times she did this, looking forward at the white cloth mesh in front of her, that protected her from 'outside forces.' I was laying on the floor with the Pentax (heavens that was a wonderful camera!) and watching her as I always did. She was looking at the white mesh, curious as ever, and then it happened.
She looked beyond the mesh. She could see outside of her little contained space. And she could see me...and she began to cry.
I'll never forget it. Her brain made the connection. It was one of her first "aha!" moments and I was there.
She saw me and she began to cry. She wanted me. The smell of me, the touch of me, the sound of my voice, my heartbeat. The cry was distinctive.
I put the camera down and I picked her up. And we were together. (Heavens, how I long for her to want me, just for a second, that way again now...)
And maybe that's how it works with God, too. Maybe.
He creates us, inside of Him. He gives us life and form and meaning. And then He gives birth to us. And puts us in a safe place. Protected from all the 'blue meanies' in this world. We think everything is perfect in our little world. We have our blankie and our kitty and maybe a bottle of milk nearby...then one day,
BOOM! the world changes because we can see beyond the wall that separated us from our mother. Our creator. And we lament until we can return to her arms.
Only once we get out of our little garden, and once we think we feel secure enough that Mama is there, we start exploring this new world. All this new stuff! Wow! What's that? Oh, that's scratchy! Oh, that's tear-able! Oh, that's hot! Ouch! Mom!
I hurt! Mom! I'm hungry! Mom! I'm wet! Mom! I need your heart!
Out of the garden. We don't have a choice, really. We all have to leave the garden. Sometime. We have to learn to see beyond.
In the beginning, we can only see what we don't have. And then we want it. We have to learn about what we can have and what we can't have. We learn about what is good for us and what can hurt us. We love and we win and we lose. We give ourselves away. We receive from others. We play in the fields of life. We learn. We see beyond what we are to what we can be and most of us, I think, strive to be more than just the flesh and blood that makes us alive. We work hard at being human.
Then, when the time is right, we go back to the garden. To the safe place, where He first placed us. Then, when we see beyond, we see beyond the beyond...and we rest in Him, because we have everything we need, everything we ever will need...right there in His arms.
I don't know if this one works...but it will do for now.
Love, Cindy
Thursday, July 1, 2010
A Question of Balance
I doubt that anyone would remember that was the title of a less popular Moody Blues album. I thought I might write about music today, but the question is on my mind.
Simon, Son of John, do you love me?
Do you want to be healed?
Is there anyone here to condemn you?
Who do you say that I am?
These are questions that should be burned into your heart. These are the most important questions that can be asked. And you'd better have your answers ready.
I grow so frustrated with myself and other people when we have questions and do not ask them. Maybe that is the scientist in me. I want to know the answer. I want to know why things work. I want to know what keeps us together, physically, mentally, spiritually and I want to know what keeps us apart.
Why is the sky blue?
From the 60s Star Trek episode: "A question. Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question." {and oh yes, I can probably quote most of the old series episodes by heart)
Genesis 14:
When Abram heard that his nephew had been captured, he mustered three hundred and eighteen of his retainers, born in his house, and went in pursuit as far as Dan.
He and his party deployed against them at night, defeated them, and pursued them as far as Hobah, which is north of Damascus.He recovered all the possessions, besides bringing back his kinsman Lot and his possessions, along with the women and the other captives. When Abram returned from his victory over Chedorlaomer and the kings who were allied with him, the king of Sodom went out to greet him in the Valley of Shaveh (that is, the King's Valley). Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought out bread and wine, and being a priest of God Most High, he blessed Abram with these words:
Blessed be Abram by God Most High, the creator of heaven and earth;
And blessed be God Most High, who delivered your foes into your hand."
Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.The king of Sodom said to Abram, "Give me the people; the goods you may keep." But Abram replied to the king of Sodom: "I have sworn to the LORD, God Most High, the creator of heaven and earth, that I would not take so much as a thread or a sandal strap from anything that is yours, lest you should say, 'I made Abram rich.'
Nothing for me except what my servants have used up and the share that is due to the men who joined me--Aner, Eshcol and Mamre; let them take their share."
I was looking for something else, but this was what I found. Question: Why this passage? Why now?
I think contemplatives are always asking questions. Actually, I think we are all asking questions all the time, but not everyone wants to admit it. God knows I have been stuck on the concept of the high priest Melchizedek for a long time. So while I'm trying to write something else, God barges in with this thought, which He knows will distract me from my goal...
Alas, it is after 6 anyway and I need to head to church.
Now this is me and God:
=Cindy, time to stop typing, I have other things for you to do.
=But so MUCH happened yesterday! I don't want to forget!
=You will remember what you need to remember. If you forget, I will remind you. Give us a kiss and be on your way.
=As you wish.
Yeah, I know. Sigh. You might be surprised what He tells you if you just let Him in.
Love, Cindy
Simon, Son of John, do you love me?
Do you want to be healed?
Is there anyone here to condemn you?
Who do you say that I am?
These are questions that should be burned into your heart. These are the most important questions that can be asked. And you'd better have your answers ready.
I grow so frustrated with myself and other people when we have questions and do not ask them. Maybe that is the scientist in me. I want to know the answer. I want to know why things work. I want to know what keeps us together, physically, mentally, spiritually and I want to know what keeps us apart.
Why is the sky blue?
From the 60s Star Trek episode: "A question. Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question." {and oh yes, I can probably quote most of the old series episodes by heart)
Genesis 14:
When Abram heard that his nephew had been captured, he mustered three hundred and eighteen of his retainers, born in his house, and went in pursuit as far as Dan.
He and his party deployed against them at night, defeated them, and pursued them as far as Hobah, which is north of Damascus.He recovered all the possessions, besides bringing back his kinsman Lot and his possessions, along with the women and the other captives. When Abram returned from his victory over Chedorlaomer and the kings who were allied with him, the king of Sodom went out to greet him in the Valley of Shaveh (that is, the King's Valley). Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought out bread and wine, and being a priest of God Most High, he blessed Abram with these words:
Blessed be Abram by God Most High, the creator of heaven and earth;
And blessed be God Most High, who delivered your foes into your hand."
Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.The king of Sodom said to Abram, "Give me the people; the goods you may keep." But Abram replied to the king of Sodom: "I have sworn to the LORD, God Most High, the creator of heaven and earth, that I would not take so much as a thread or a sandal strap from anything that is yours, lest you should say, 'I made Abram rich.'
Nothing for me except what my servants have used up and the share that is due to the men who joined me--Aner, Eshcol and Mamre; let them take their share."
I was looking for something else, but this was what I found. Question: Why this passage? Why now?
I think contemplatives are always asking questions. Actually, I think we are all asking questions all the time, but not everyone wants to admit it. God knows I have been stuck on the concept of the high priest Melchizedek for a long time. So while I'm trying to write something else, God barges in with this thought, which He knows will distract me from my goal...
Alas, it is after 6 anyway and I need to head to church.
Now this is me and God:
=Cindy, time to stop typing, I have other things for you to do.
=But so MUCH happened yesterday! I don't want to forget!
=You will remember what you need to remember. If you forget, I will remind you. Give us a kiss and be on your way.
=As you wish.
Yeah, I know. Sigh. You might be surprised what He tells you if you just let Him in.
Love, Cindy
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