Category Archives: Meditation

Education, Meditation, Prayer

Pauses

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The lightning and thunder have passed, and the downpour is now a soft rain. Everything’s plugged back in. The two hour electric hiatus is over.

Aunt Norma’s memorial service was on Saturday morning in Eliot, Maine. My three cousins and three siblings have taken up their routines again, as have my parents. The three hours for remembering and sharing as a family are over.

Not much causes a significant pause these days: sickness, vacation, birth, death, weather, a weekly church service for some. The blue laws are long gone. Society no longer has a mandated sabbath that offers a weekly break in business-as-usual. Only a major happening or presentation puts a comma in life’s sentence these days.

A big exception to this is a library. Walking through its doors is walking out of the world’s busyness. Books, chairs, artwork, and people of all ages inhabit this calm and quiet place. Without raised voices or a show of strength, librarians keep the peace and help each person find just the right poem or novel. The only quick footsteps come as little children find their seats for story time. It is a gentle place, quietly offering the knowledge of the ages to patrons of every age.

For whatever reason, usually I’m unwilling to grow or change without a lot of noise and flash; I might even convince myself that I can’t grow or change without blaring and glaring events. But my weekly walk through the library doors – the place of still, small voices – begs to differ. Great big worlds are beckoning quietly – an invitation to pause and grow hiding in my weekly schedule. It is a place for seeing God’s great big world and finding my place in it. How about you?

Education, Meditation

The World is Quiet Here

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It’s a line from Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. It’s about the many libraries that can be found in that thirteen book series, and about finding a safe place. The series is full of adventures, with people using their talents and knowledge for both good and evil ends. Read one way, it’s a well written story about three orphans trying to escape the nefarious plots of Count Olaf. Read another, it’s a parable about ethics, moving from a very simple “some people are all good, and others are all bad” understanding to a more nuanced “good people in desperate circumstances may act in hurtful ways, and bad people may not be irredeemable evil.”

From The Bad Beginning to The End, the Baudelaire orphans find themselves in libraries of all kinds. They are able to save themselves many times by using something they found in books. In the tenth book a stranger asks them to trust him by saying this:

 “I know that having a good vocabulary doesn’t guarantee that I’m a good person,” the boy said. “But it does mean I’ve read a great deal. And in my experience, well-read people are less likely to be evil.” (Lemony Snicket, The Slippery Slope, New York: HarperCollins publishers, 2003, p. 95)

Are well-read people less likely to be evil? Can someone who reads Othello and Our Town, who is familiar with Gatsby and Aragorn, who has seen The Very Hungry Caterpillar change into a butterfly and The Road Not Taken make all the difference easily disregard the sanctity of life in all its forms? In The Slippery Slope, Lemony Snicket answers it through Violet and Klaus Baudelaire:

 Neither of them were entirely convinced by what the masked scout had said. There are, of course, plenty of evil people who have read a great many books, and plenty of very kind people who seem to have found some other method of spending their time. But the Baudelaires knew that there was a kind of truth to the boy’s statement…(pp. 95-96)

What makes a good life? What does evil look like? Is there a God? Where did this universe come from? What is truth? Giant questions that have been answered in many ways throughout history. These and so many more are waiting in libraries around the world, quiet places that allow us to hear the whispered answers of the past, understand our own time, and dream about a better future.

Knowledge is not the same as wisdom, and information can be used for evil as well as good; words can inspire compassion and sacrifice in the service of others, and can be used to justify hatred and murder. But I think there is some kind of truth to the boy’s statement, too. Those who spend time in a library are bound to find themselves in the stacks. Where the world is quiet, the soul is likely to speak peace more often than violence.

Let me know what you think…

Meditation

Blue Dot Blindness

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I re-shelved children’s books at Wareham Free Library’s this morning, returning dozens of picture books, audio books, and serial books to their homes. It’s a peaceful activity that lets me see new books by favorite authors and revisit favorite books my sons have long outgrown. But today, I had an extra task: find and pull out any books with blue dots on their covers. The Onset branch of the library is reopening in a couple of weeks, and the blue dot books belong there.

I didn’t think finding them would be much of a challenge. The dot itself is on the cover near the spine, big and bright enough to stand out. The children’s librarian found a whole bunch of them, but I only managed to spot four. Two were in the “P” section, just around the Junie B. Jones books. The third was a Thomas the Tank Engine book, one among many. The fourth was hiding on the “W” shelf, spine to the back of the shelf, page edges to the front. It felt good to find them, but I’m sure I missed more than I found.

I checked many shelves, pulling books out enough to check for the blue dots without taking them all the way out. Maybe that was the problem – the books were neither in my hands or in their places, lost in an in-between space. Was I really looking at the books, or just going through the motions to get to the end of the shelf? I’m not sure.

Nothing makes me as blind as just going through the motions. I won’t see much when I’m not really looking. Books with blue dots or life, I’ll miss it if I don’t take it in my hands.

Meditation, Prayer

Amen at dying

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and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

It’s the way of things. Last year’s hollyhocks died, offering the seeds that sprouted new plants a few weeks back. Sometime soon, the caterpillars munching the maple leaves in my back yard will inter their pipe cleaner bodies and emerge with soft, furry wings. Each of us dies throughout our lives, going from one stage to the next – infant to toddler, child to adult. We let go of people when they die, and they will let go of us when it is our turn. There’s no other door to new life, death alone provides entry. It’s just so hard to go through, leaving everything behind for who knows what.

I accept this truth, and I make my peace with it every time death claims someone I love. In my soul I know that no one is lost to God, even when lost to me, but I mourn all of them. Every atom in this blessed universe is held fast, but not in the form I know and miss. One day it will be my form, this life I know and love, that I must give over to death. It’s hard to imagine when or how this will come, sitting on my sofa right now, typing these words. But the door of death will open, granting me passage into eternal life.

When my time comes, I hope I have the faith to greet it with peace. In that moment, I want to say amen: let it be. With so many people I love on the other side, with these words of saint Francis on my heart, in grateful thanks for those I leave behind, I’ll die to all I know and trust my eternity to the embrace of God.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Meditation, Prayer

Double or Nothing

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It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

Pardon me is so easy to say when passing in a crowded hallway or reaching for a salt shaker and nearly impossible to utter when real hurt or damage has been done (Is it because someone refusing to pardon a passing stranger or outstretched arm commits a bigger offense?). How do I ask for forgiveness when the damage is profound or even irreparable? The unspoken words pound the walls of my head and heart, bruising and battering me in their escape attempts. Why can’t I let them out, especially when they are the only reparation I can make for the harm I’ve done?

When I’m on the receiving end of this pain equation, I have no trouble getting words out; the question is, what words will I release into the world? Speak to send the pain I feel into the heart and soul of another, or speak to release us both from pain given and received? Retribution or restoration spoken and heard: the choice is mine.

I know pardon given and received opens the door to a blessing built for two, damager and damaged, even in tragic circumstances. Pardon unrequested and unrequited bars the door. It’s double or nothing: the door is too big to admit an either/or blessing.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.

Meditation, Prayer

Giving and Receiving

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Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.

For it is in giving that we receive

I went for a walk around town yesterday with Heidi. No matter what street we were on, we were surrounded by flowers – irises, rhododendrons, chives, pansies, azaleas, and dozens more un-named. Lilacs and wisteria scented the breeze, and flocks of clouds chased the sun. Today I stepped downtown with Deena and Jeanne to enjoy eggs, fruit, and coffee at Riverside Cafe. Hanging planters decorated shop doors with living reds, blues, greens, and yellows. In our own yards, vegetables and herbs are thriving, lovely to taste and see. It’s a typical end-of-May in Southcoast, Massachusetts – the everyday miracle I call home.

Giving and receiving are all mixed up together for me. I can’t say which is more fun: giving a present in love or receiving one in love. Each have their unique joy. I aspire to be a grateful giver and a grateful receiver both.

Walking around this morning, it dawned on me that at its best, giving and receiving are garden variety experiences. The seeds I give to the world in love grow beyond themselves, bringing beauty and nourishment in ways I can’t even imagine. The seeds I receive in love (when I’m mature enough to accept them with thanks) just need a little attention to transform my life into Eden.

Meditation, Prayer

Everyday Love

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to be loved, as to love.

My friend Patti once told me that it only takes one person to love you to make all the difference in the world. Just one. It could be a mother or father, grandparent, or cousin; a neighbor or teacher, maybe. If just one person loves you, really loves you, it’s enough to keep you grounded and give you a chance for a good life.

My friend Jeanne says that some people don’t hold onto love the same as others. In her words, “Loving is like pouring water into a bucket. Some people have holes in their buckets; no matter how much love you pour in, you can’t fill their bucket.”

Love can’t be explained easily or completely, but it’s everywhere and easy to spot. It’s at the mall, even if it can’t be bought. It’s in schools and libraries, Dunkin’ Donuts and baseball fields; you can find it on the train and in the airport.

Lack of love can’t be explained easily or completely, but it’s everywhere and easy to spot – in school hallways and locker rooms, at the dinner table and in the car, at the beach and birthday parties.

I know two things about love: 1) there’s never been a moment in my entire life when I haven’t been loved, and 2) there’s never been a moment in your entire life when you haven’t been loved. We have been loved by God from the beginning, and will be loved from life into death and beyond. If we are lucky, we’ve been loved from the moment we first drew breath by our family and friends, both human and animal.

So many have loved me so well, and my bucket is full. I ask for the great favor of loving others as I have been loved, to make a difference this day and evermore. Amen.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life devoted to God and neighbor, human and animal. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.

Meditation, Prayer

Worlds of Understanding

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to be understood, as to understand;

Graduate school meant reading a lot of books with countless facts and no pictures. Theories everywhere, agreeing and disagreeing on paper; grad students everywhere, agreeing and disagreeing in the flesh. For many of my friends, getting information out of reading and then figuring out how it related to every other piece of information was a trudge across gravel wearing someone else’s stilettos: painful, slow, and designed with someone else in mind.

I loved the reading because I knew the secret: these books were worlds, the best vision of reality that the author could give. Fall through the pages, enter the world, see it as the writer did, and it all makes sense. Non fiction just meant the author believed the story was about the living world. Seeing whole worlds, moving those worlds into alignment – that’s what understanding dusty old textbooks really is. Well written or not, every book and every world a gift.

Each person is a living world, God created and God loved. Through word and action, touch and tone, I am invited into the worlds of everyone I meet. To see a whole new world, moving my world into alignment – that’s what understanding someone is.

to be understood, as to understand…I’m not asking for strength to settle for less: I’m asking God for so much more: a whole new world.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.

Meditation, Prayer

Consolation

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O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

When grief comes, life is never the same (the same is true of joy, but no one seems to spend much time dwelling on that profound truth…).

Consolation isn’t saying “everything will be all right,” or “someday, everything will get back to what it was.” It won’t. Staying put while a friend cries, bringing silence instead of platitudes, putting on hold all the usual activities – recognitions of loss, not feeble attempts to avoid it.

God doesn’t erase pain and grief, or cover a gaping wound with a band-aid. Instead, God holds it all in love.

O God, give me the strength and wisdom to do the same.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.

Meditation, Prayer

Joy

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and where there is sadness, joy.

I’ve found joy at funerals and weddings, in McDonald’s and on Mount Washington. It’s the same with sadness; sometimes there’s an obvious reason, but many times it seems to come without one. Yesterday, it came to church.

A son preached about his mother. She suffers from dementia these days. He talked about how she kept and still keeps a spotless house, and how she prepared beautiful meals that she couldn’t enjoy if it didn’t look like the picture in the cookbook. He talked about how she loved her sons, and how she never saw herself as worthy of love as a gift rather than something earned. He talked about her talents and her faults, and how God loved her because of her faults – not in spite of them. With a few dozen words, a son shared joy with the hundred or so people gathered there.

Joy isn’t earned and it doesn’t cost a thing. It can find us at church, on the beach, at the bus stop, and at home. It comes through words and silence, work and play. For reasons known to God alone, it can grow out of our saddest moments.

With Francis, I pray that God brings joy through me today.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.