Philippians 3:20

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.

 

The beauty of the Holy Spirit

is that inside us all,

we carry a little piece of heaven.

 

And it is the quickening

of our heart,

and the catch

in our breath

 

that tells us

the Kingdom of God

lives here now

within us,

 

calling to us,

demanding of us,

 

that we be something better,

that we are something better,

that we are of heaven,

and heaven is of God,

 

and we are so much more

than we can possibly imagine.

 

We are beloved.

We are sons and daughters

of the Creator, the Redeemer,

the One who is Love.

 

Amen.

That Was Fun!

“That was fun!” I said to myself in the car on the way home from church this morning, a smile plastered on my face.

Let’s be honest, I'm not sure how often one thinks of Sunday morning services as fun.

So you might wonder what was so fun about this Rite I no music service?  And I will tell you it wasn’t the service itself.  The service was fine.

It was the building.  It was the grounds.  It was being in a church that was about 150 years old and feeling the Holy Spirit saturating every piece of wood in there from altar rail to pew.  And yes there were the hard, no cushion Puritan Pews—as I call them—and they were fine.

But you could feel the Spirit tremble inside.

And the grounds—beautiful flowers.  I had so many photo ops and that gave me such peace—and then I noticed a clearing, like a courtyard.

“No way,” I whispered.  “Is that a labyrinth?”

And it was!  It was a prayer labyrinth that I didn’t expect to find and it was gorgeous, laid out in a pattern I hadn’t walked before.

I have learned in my two months in Ohio that I was spoiled with prayer labyrinths in Florida, spoiled with being able to walk them whenever I wanted.

Prior to today, the two labyrinths I had seen in Ohio—one was abandoned and overgrown and the other involved the Jesuits siccing security on my dad and me (a story for another day).

So you better believe I walked that labyrinth.  People were pulling in the parking lot for the next service, and I walked that labyrinth with no reservations, no shyness.  I don’t know how many people ever walk that labyrinth and maybe everyone who pulled in was wondering who that strange woman was, walking theirs, and I hope—I hope they wondered.  I hope I brought some mystery to their day.

I need to go back.  I need to get in touch with the church and see about getting a tour and taking more pictures and learning if this is the place God is leading me to.

But for today—I had fun.

Where Did You See God Today?

So, apparently, the Bureau of Motor Vehicles still has my driver’s license in the computer system even though it’s been 25 years.

“Can I use that picture for my new license?” I asked the man.

He grimaced.  “Man, those glasses.”

“It was the 90s!” I said.

Eventually I settled on a new picture even though, as I explained to the man, I look more and more like my mom with each picture taken.

This morning did not start out well.  Finding out shortly after 3 am that I had been locked out of my bank account.  Discovering a speed demon spider in my bathtub a few hours after that and knowing I was going to be spending my morning in the BMV, I started thinking just going back to bed might be the best option, especially after one of my pictures just randomly fell off the wall and shattered, especially after I found yet another spider hiding in the upper corner of my bedroom (actually not exactly hiding-he had a whole condominium complex of webs up there).

I told my dad I felt like the Pink Panther in the cartoon when this rain cloud follows him around all day, raining just on him.

But I also told my dad that I had promised myself that I would find God in today, that I would challenge myself to find God.

For starters, I found Him in the BMV, because if you can find things to laugh about at the BMV, God must be present.  Most people dread heading to the DMV or BMV.  Even the pictures posted online of this particular branch had a long line out the door.  But I was in and out and lucky enough to share a few laughs with the worker helping me.

After I got home from the BMV, I called my dad and asked him to come over, bring his ladder, and kill the bedroom spider for me. 

“Why don’t you just get a broom and knock it down?” he asked me.

“First, I don’t have a broom and second, even if I did, so I knock the spider down, but then he disappears and now he’s just really angry at me.”

“Okay, I’ll bring a broom and knock him down and you keep an eye on him.”

“No, Dad, bring the ladder—please.”

He paused, I think, wondering if I was serious about the whole thing, but wasn’t that one of the reasons I moved to Ohio?  So I could call my dad and have him kill bugs for me?  He also put some furniture together for me today as well, but I told him I most appreciated him taking care of the spider.

The truth is I have an amazing dad.  When I closed on my condo sale, the title lady was explaining how taxes work for the sale of a home and I told her I already knew, that my dad had researched it and already told me.

“What a good dad you have,” the woman said.

“Yeah, he’s sitting in the car right now keeping an eye on the cats.  He’s a good guy.”

Later after we had signed everything and I left, when I got in the car, my dad said, “Some lady walked out and smiled and waved at me.”

I laughed.  “Yeah that was probably the title lady.  We were talking about you.”

So where did I see God today?  In the blessings of having an awesome dad.

And finally, early this morning, after I worked out the issue with my bank account and crawled back into bed, Loki, my little orange kitty, hopped on top of me, butted his head against my arm, and then curled up, but not the way he normally does.

Normally, like a lot of crazy cats, he curls up on top of me and puts his fluffy butt right in my face.

But this morning, he rested his chin right next to my chin.  I could see him out of the corner of my eye.  My brain was racing, obsessively worrying about my bank account, but Loki’s eyes got heavier and heavier and finally closed.  He was perfectly at peace and it was hard not mirror that.

I fell asleep a minute later.

God doesn’t promise us no bad days.  But He does promise He will walk with us through those bad days. 

Realizing that God is always with us is one thing, but finding Him, recognizing His presence in our lives takes practice.  It has to become a habit and when it does, you won’t even have to think about it.

You’ll know He’s there.

Amen.

SuP

Every morning on my walk, I cross the street and am greeted by some wet cement graffiti.

“SuP Hi” the message says.

And I think it’s the “SuP”  and that uppercase “P” that always make me smile.

One of my goals in the workshops I’ve conducted over the years is to help people recognize the presence of God in their lives.  Recognizing God’s presence is definitely something that has to be intentional and it helps to make it a daily habit.

Identifying God’s presence in your life means recognizing that He has always been a part of your life.  It means that He has been calling out to you in little ways that have gone unnoticed.

It may be that every morning, He greets you with a “SuP Hi” and you have walked right on past Him.

So take a moment this morning to say “Hi” back.

Palm Sunday Thoughts

“Is it cold out?” my dad asked me when I got back from my walk this morning.

“It’s brisk,” I said, which probably sounded more like “It’s bwisk,” considering my lips were completely numb from the cold.

Welcoming springtime in Ohio is tough.  It’s cold, then slightly less cold.  It’s gray, then sunny, then gray again in the blink of an eye. 

It’s windy, then still and the most beautiful flowering trees I’ve seen turned out to be an invasive species that has been recently outlawed.

It’s seasonal whiplash.

Today is Palm Sunday and this week of Holy Week presents a spiritual whiplash.  Here we have Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem followed only days later by betrayal by his closest friends and crucifixion. 

It is a miserable, dark, and stormy season.

And yet, it always gives way to resurrection.

I am reminded of the little girl who ran past my open window some years ago on a particularly sunny, warm spring day in Florida.  As she chased her friend, she shouted out, “It smells like Easter down here!” 

What an amazing piece of knowledge—to know somewhere outside of the brain, somewhere deep in the heart, to the very spirit, the soul, that the smell of new growth, of fresh air, of turned dirt and flowers bending and turning to the sun—to know that this is Easter.

That Jesus is life.

Every morning, I step out onto the back deck of my dad and Barb’s house and look to the forest of trees on the other side of their fence.

There is a building green.

There is towering gray above, but there is a building green below.

And one morning, I will walk outside and the gray will have vanished overnight.

The sun will rise on new life.

A Prayer for Healing

 I pray that when you wake

to the day

 

that this would be a new morning

for you,

 

that God would work in you

to make all things new,

 

that He would lay

a cool hand

on your forehead

and chase away

any fever dreams

you might be suffering,

 

that you would breathe—easy,

that with every breath,

you would be filled with

the Breath of the Spirit

and that you would

be made whole again.

 

That you would know,

that you would never doubt

that the Lord is your keeper,

and with Him by your side

the sun will not strike you—by day,

nor the moon—by night.

He will guard you and guide you.

He will never leave you.

 

May you know 

and feel secure in 

His love, always.

 

Amen.

For Gaida.

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

Lord, let me stand

with my neighbor in joy.

Let me stand with them

in revelation, in certitude,

in those times when life explodes

in confetti and streamers,

and all is right,

and all is right.

Let me share in a belly

laugh of innocence.

Let me feel the Holy Strength

of laughter in those whose souls

wander, unfettered and free.

Let me rejoice with those

who rejoice.

Let me share with them

the tears of victory.

Lord, may I stand

with my neighbor

in all things,

not just in joy,

but in mourning and loss.

And so, let me weep, Lord,

with those who weep.

Let me lean into that pain

and lift it for them,

just a little bit—

so that they

have room

to breathe.

Lord, may no one on this earth

ever weep alone.

And in times of joy

and in times of pain,

Lord, let my eyes be forever

filled with tears.

Amen.