Throw Me Away

Proposed antiphon: God blesses us and keeps us, and hereafter will make us new

Sometime in late spring
The pansies were discarded
Dumped in the common area
Behind the houses
Where the blackberries grow
And the morning glories dance
Twisting from cane to cane

There the soil is rich,
Full of grass cuttings and bits of bark
Discarded potting soil
Leaf mould and pine needles -
The detritus of years past

There the essence of green life
Spirals up like slow flame
Through the stems and leaves
Through the curling growing tips
And into the air

You can smell it, see it
Wafting from the full petals
And shining from the generous faces
Of the pansy blooms that grew there
Burgeoning with beauty and life

Throw me away
Cast me aside
Into the dung-heap of creation
Let the sun beat down
And the wild rains fall
Let me bloom

The Leather Shoes I've Had A While

The leather shoes
I've had a while

They're worn and scuffed
They're broken in
Into my shape

They're shaped like me
Perhaps too much

Sometimes I switch
what feet they're on

I wear them backwards
Now and then

Just for a bit
To feel the way

They press my feet
Differently

Somehow it is comforting
To feel them different
And unmeshed

Unmatched to my feet

It is also strange
To wear something

So broken in
And yet so mismatched

It reminds me
Of how comfortable
They are normally

It is kind of like

Seeing an old friend
Doing a new thing

Meeting something
That you know well

In a strange place
Far away

Realizing again
What you are about

When you had forgotten
Or become preoccupied

See, I have made all things new
Even the shoes on your feet

Let them remind you who you are
Remind you what you are

Let them help you remember your calling
And enter into the Kingdom of God

Peace,
LE

Downspout

Rain comes down
Not every day
But it does come
Sometimes more often than I might like

And under my downspout
I have a watering can
Because when it isn't raining
A very small person likes to wander the yard
Blessing the flowers with water

And in this way
I keep water handy for her
To help her in her mission
And help make the world more beautiful
One drop at a time

May all of our dark rainy days
And all of our sadness
Be similarly transformed into moments
Of sharing and joy

Blessings
LE

Tell Your Story

It has been a while since the passing of Madeline L'Engle, but thoughts of her and her writing keep coming to mind, and so maybe, in this meditative season of Lent, contemplating the following words from this spiritual woman is appropriate:

“Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer.
“It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”

So, my guests and friends, share your stories. It will help us all, more than we can know.

Peace,
LE

All Lenten Thoughts

Carnival or Shrove Tuesday?

Carnival has arrived this year wrapped in gauze.

Lent is early this year, arriving almost as early as it can, and today is Carnival.

And I don't feel festive.

Instead I feel in need of blankets and bandages.

Comfort and quiet.

Time to heal life's wounds.

Time to grow and seek quietly.

And so today's fog, the wet quietness of the day, the muffled shapes and sounds seem in tune with my mood.

A gauzey bandage over a bruised life.

A chance to heal.

A time of peace.

Today for me will be more of the 'Shrove Tuesday' than 'Carnival'.

Shrove Tuesday, when we confess our sins before our Lenten fast.

A time to confess and be healed.

May your Lent also start with the kind of day that you need.

LE

All Lenten Thoughts

ps: I am returning to rotating the meditation or antiphon that appears in this blog's description. I never intended to stop rotating it, but life got busy, and the one I had up seemed so appropriate; 'For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.'

pps: And look at the meditation that was up next: "I'm giving up being angry.". Great for the start of Lent, and great to follow my post 'The Others'. I think I smell the Holy Spirit in this...

Peace,
LE

The Grace of Baptism

I like baptism
I like the gathering of the community
I like the approach, the welcoming of the candidates
I like the blessing of the water
I like the vows taken by and for the candidates
I like the ritual of washing
I like the symbolism of immersion
I like the unity of the body of Christ in the church.

But baptism is a peculiar thing
We do it once
We do it for others
And not for ourselves

Baptism is the Rubicon of Christianity
Once done, we have crossed over
We belong
We are sealed as belonging to Christ

Baptism is a sacrament to many Christians

An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

The sign is the wetting, the bathing, the annointing, ...and the grace?

The grace is the forgiveness of sins available to the repentant Christian through Jesus Christ.

And perhaps this is the forgotten beauty of baptism: not its celebration of becoming a member of the body, not the spiritual vows made to actively seek to turn from evil, -these are outward signs- but the initial recognition that we are all in need of perfection, that we all have stumbled, that we all need forgiveness, and that in particular the candidate is recognizing his or her errors, and is formally repenting and seeking forgiveness.

And perhaps this is what Jesus brought to baptism that it did not have before: the authority to say:

"Rise and walk, for your sins are forgiven you."

Rise and walk, and if you stumble, pick yourself up, and walk again.

May you, dear reader, also Rise and Walk

Peace,
LE

An All-Encompassing Love

Sometime about half a century ago, a mathematician proved that for any mathematical system, there will be some problems that cannot be solved, which can be solved by other mathematical systems.

Isn't that remarkable? By extension, any one way of thinking will have areas it cannot address well - that require other approaches.

And further; the world is not comprehensible to any one way of thinking.

And any one theology will similarly have certain flaws that only others can address.

And I wonder if this is not another reason for the strange plurality of the Godhead, and the very different character of its elements: Spirit, God and Son. Because perhaps the one solution to our often troubled world requires more than one approach:

A creative force; our parent who calls us to be and grow.

A redemptive force; our friend and brother who challenges us to be true and intervenes with and for us, who shares our humanity.

A supportive force; a spirit that whispers in our ear and fills our hearts with love, guiding us back to God

No one approach could suffice, and perhaps no two was yet enough. To truly love the world in the all encompassing way, three were needed.

And if God IS love, perhaps it is useful to consider the Trinity in terms of love;

Parental Love,
Fraternal Love,
....and Passion

Filled with the threefold love of God, may we be wise in our own lives to see when new approaches are needed, hear when others point out our blindness, and act in God's will.

-Peace and Love to you in the Trinitarian God of Jesus Christ, The Holy Spirit, and God our Parent,

LE

This Painful Journey

We are born in pain, and its sharp claws prod us throughout our lives. They are never far away. Pain helps us to learn how to stay healthy, how to avoid harm. But at the end of our journey, pain seems worthless. When there is nothing to be done, when no cure will suffice, pain can be an unbearable burden that must be carried anyway. And so we bear it. We share it with Christ, whose capacity for pain knows no bounds, we distract ourselves, we hang on for one more moment. Perhaps we yell, pound our fists, even go a little mad.

Soon, soon, the cool waters will come, the baptismal waters will return, lapping higher, taking away the pain, washing you clean, submerging you in the comfort of Christ. And you will rise, dry, and clothed in white robes of love, ready to join the feast of the lamb.

Today is painful, today is hard, today there is still a race to run, a struggle to be finished; but tomorrow is swiftly coming, when the bridegroom will take your hand and lead you to the great city where you will join in the great marriage feast, where you will dine on true food, and quench your thirst with living waters.

And then, together with those who have gone before and those who come after, you will take up the great song, the masterwork that creates, encourages and binds. And you will have true joy as you have never known it.

May you find your peace in the Lamb

After Isaiah 2:

(Subverted lightly from the NRSV)

It will come to pass that the Lord will establish his house among the nations, it shall be raised above the hills and all the world shall see it's light. Many peoples will say; ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,  to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths,’ So all nations shall stream to the house of the Lord, and out of Zion shall go forth instruction,  and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. The Lord shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they study war any more.

My brothers and sisters, let us walk again in the light of the Lord! For we have forsaken God's ways and wander in foolishness.

The redemption of Bully McFister

I looked up Bully McFister today
You know, the one that used to steal your lunch money, and hit you for no reason? Who liked shooting small animals with his bb-gun and bragging about it? At length? The one who liked to make fists with one knuckle sticking out and hit us as hard as he could in the bicep to give us bruises? That guy, you remember.

Well I felt like looking up the old crew and I 'Googled' his name. I thought I might at 'best' see a police blotter report of a robbery or a shootout, or even more likely nothing at all. But no, he pops right up, I see evidence of a creative soul, a sharp mind, an analytic, go-getting man who writes beautifully. I enjoy reading what he writes, and he is relatively prolific!

I squint at his picture in awe, trying to see the wise-acre who flicked boogers at us all from the back row, who enjoyed picking fights and causing trouble, who left us achingly writing our homework with bruised arms. A faint echo is all I get. Yeah, it's the guy. Who knew? Clearly my elementary-school self judged him prematurely, and I carried that predjudice forward. Somewhere inside the obnoxious troublemaker were the seeds of this new person. A person who contributes much to our world.

So Bully made good. I am glad that he did... ...it somehow seems redemptive. But I feel guilty for assuming he wouldn't, and wonder if we aren't failing many of our boys if they can be percieved as so futureless in school, and yet be so much once they hit the real world. I wonder what Bully's story is... Did he change all at once? Was there a series of transformative events in his life? Or did he just slowly start opening up, once he was away from the strictures, cliques and repressions of the school environment?

I wonder...

But I'm not sure I'll be reaching out to Bully to discuss all this. My arm is still sore.

Peace,
LE


'Bully McFister' is a fictional name that I made up to relate this story, but the story itself is true. For anyone who is actually named this, I pray your life is at least as redemptive as that of my 'Bully'. And for those working and suffering with today's 'Bullies' I ask you to take note. God is everywhere, indeed. Maybe your 'Bully' needs an outlet, a friend, a big brother, or a role model, maybe the investment in him is hard and painful, but he has real potential too. (And I reccommend thick sweaters to protect your arms.)

When We Fall

Hurtful things
Done again and again
Maybe not intentionally to hurt
But not avoided
And returned to
And repeated.

Things we shouldn't do
Things we should do in moderation
That we do to extreme
Things that harm ourselves
Things that harm others

We all make mistakes
We all do things that are wrong
And we often, too often repeat them
Minor addictions
Bad habits
Sins and crimes

Sometimes they sneak up on you
You don't realize you are slipping
Sliding
Falling into sin

Try to keep God first
Keep God in your mind and make sure what you are doing is good.
And when you slip
Apologize
Try to make things right
And start anew

"I Will, With God's Help"

LE

Wasteland Pictures

Not so long ago, I published a post entitled Wasteland. I thought it might be neat if you got to see what I saw, and so here are some pictures from the very wasteland I was writing about:

Some grapes growing next to a cable supporting an electrical line...

Some immature raspberries... Today I see that some of them are ripe and that they are plump and lovely BLACK raspberries, and that many have been eaten by the little critters who live here.

And a funny bug on milkweed blossoms:

May your day be equally full of beauty in unexpected places.


P.S. I have replaced the picture on this blog of 'St Kevin's Chapel' with a picture of a grasshopper, as perhaps more appropriate. The insect in question was only briefly held and released back where it was captured. No grasshoppers were eaten or harmed in any way in the production of this blog.

Wasteland

...
Railroads are by their nature surrounded by wasteland.

Their roadbeds are not usually considered pretty, their switching areas, rusting signals and overhead electric lines are eyesores, and the trains that travel them are loud, discoraging the close encroachment of the neat lawns and dwellings of residential suburbia.

And the odd angles that the rail-beds make with roads, property lines, and each other create wedges of land that are virtually impossible to put to any use, even if someone wanted to do so.

And so they are left fallow, ...and life finds them and springs up.

The odd-shaped wedge behind the train station where I wait in the morning teams with life and is laden with ripening wild fruit;

raspberries and blackberries and grapes and choke-cherries, rose-hips and milkweed, and wild herbs and seeds - eaten by silly baltimore orioles (singing 'oh-boyeee!') and robins and sparrows and mocking-birds and chipmunks. ...and these are likely just the bold ones, who dare show themselves while I am there.

The amount of life per square foot is amazing. And to create this beauty, we just had to give it space. We abandoned it. We ignored it. We left it alone.

This was a waste-land, useless.

Sometimes we feel that way about ourselves, about parts of our lives, about people and places. But perhaps they need just a little space, some light, and a bit of water. Just a wee opportunity for growth and creation; time and space for God to enter in, and fill the wasteland with life.

May God enter all the abandoned places in our lives, all our waste-lands, and make them bloom and be fruitful.

And may we be wise enough to allow space for life, to leave spaces for the wild magic of God to take place.

Love,
Locust Eater

Related:
Wasteland Pictures
Seeing Truth in the Wasteland
God’s Sheep are Confused

Finding God In Our Moments

I saw the girl-fox again today
She went dancing overhead
While I was sitting in traffic.
She on a railroad trestle
Me on the road
She in the wild that is so closely knit
With the roads and parking-lots and shops of suburbia.

Knowing foxes, I know her schedule.
I know that when I was rolling over for another 30 'Z's, another 20 winks,
She had already been up for an hour and a half.

I used to keep a schedule like hers, you see,
And daily meet one of her cousins a couple hours before sunrise.
At another railroad crossing,
Many miles from here.

Funnily enough, my train will take me in the direction she was headed,
As she set off for perhaps her third time already this morning.

But I still had to wait for my train;
The rails heating up and expanding in the warm sun,
The wooden ties creaking and clicking in response,
While song-birds fill the air with their music,
And the breeze shifts the grasses.

Today the train is late.
And that's just fine.

It Moves Silently

Almost hidden, glinting faintly below the trees, under the bar-berry bush and the rabbits-foot fern, the still stream glistens, small wildflower-petals dotting its surface.

It moves silently through the marshy woods, its bed richly robed in the blackened leaves of last season, each leaf in turn covered with a fuzzy-looking blanket of light brown decay.

No noise makes the stream in this part of its journey, as its waters glide very slowly along. Nothing moves this quiet morning to stir its bed.

Each place in this world has its own peculiar beauty. Every spot is filled with Light. Each small place finds its own way to show forth the awe we share.

Take some time to worship in the silent manner of this stream.

May we may find many such moments of peace in our lives.

Together

Together
We are together;
We do things together.
We want to be together.
Sometimes we do things apart,
Even things that our partners don’t understand or like,
But we like to do things together.
We eat together;
We pray together;
We are together.

We think differently about a lot of things;
We discuss, argue even, but at the end of the day;
We are together.
There is no physical chain that holds us;
There is no law that compels us;
There is no force that prevents us from leaving;
We can go separate ways if we like;
And sometimes we will go separate ways;
But we like being together;
And we will come back together;
We are together.

May God bless us with many relationships like this;
In our relationships with God;
In our relationships with each other;
And in our corporate relationships;
May we be always
Together

Starting Over for Lent

I threw it all away today

All the extra words
All the sheets of paper
All the clutter all the stuff
All the angry feelings
At the foolish and the evil
All the hopeless anger
All the thoughts and plans

Today my desk is empty
Today I said goodbye
Today I'm starting over

Me and that big blue sky