A Servant's Heart

Full Moon

Nasa public domain photo

Last night brought a beautiful dream to me.  A friend, with whom there has been an altercation, and I were suddenly friends again.  We didn't get into deep conversations about what happened or who was "wrong" or "right."   We simply put what had happened in the past, and there was laughter and love, encouragement, support and warmth, where there has been such brokeness. (at least for me.)  The dream was moving into a brief moment where romance seemed possible, and then not, when suddenly I was awakened by a dreadful sound...a lonely, frightened wail...no, it was a howl that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.  It was in my room!  What was it?  2:30 am, heart pounding I sat up and looked over at Joy, my beloved mutt, who lifted her head and looked at me as though she was wondering what my problem was.  It must have been Joy, but given the fact that I still had goosebumps and heart palpatations, I climbed out of bed and went through the house looking.  Closets were empty of intruders.  Doors were firmly locked.  All the proper boundaries between myself and the outer world were in place.

I went to the window and gazed out at the full moon.  Was Joy following some ancient canine instinct, howling at the moon?  Perhaps.  Or perhaps she was having a terrible nightmare, which seems even more likely.  She has them on a regular basis.  She seems happy enough for the most part during the day, but the past rears its dragonlike head in her dreams which most often leave her whimpering, her paws twitching.  You can see how the past has wounded her if you spend much time with her.  She is timid.  She shies at loud noises, running for cover, she is quite suspicious about someone offering her food, and she has amazing instincts about people...pulling back from those whose energy is angry or violent or suspect in some way.  A young man came to see the place, as I have an advertisement on Craigslist for a housemate, and she was quite cool to him.  I had a feeling about him as well.  And then a young woman came to see the house and Joy went wild with delight, following her around, begging her to play, to rub her belly, to give her some attention.  I liked the young woman's energy and would have enjoyed having her as a roomate.  But she wasn't happy about the idea of dealing with a property management company.  She hasn't called back. 

The dream I had last night has brought tears today.  I yearn for healing and forgiveness.  My heart hurts that this friend has pulled away.  Ultimately, the truth of the matter is that each of us knows that we are one.  There are no walls of separation, no judgements, no enmity in the space where soul meets soul, where the heart sees the truth about the other.  And yet the past so often howls at us in the middle of the night, waking our fear, leaving us wondering what the truth IS.  Is there no way forward, no way to put the past behind us?  Will the past always haunt us?  Raising its head over and over and over again, taunting us with the choices we have made, leering at us, humiliating us and leaving us covered in regrets? 

It seems to me that there is a place outside of time, where the past and the present are one and the same.  The soul is always working out the questions of change or "repentence", which really just means to turn around and go a different way; forgiveness, which is sometimes most difficult for ourselves; and redemption, turning the past into a precious thing that brings healing and hope to those around us, transforming what has been the pain of our wrongdoing into something powerful that can move mountains and melt away walls, and make something new and amazing...like a phoenix rising from the ashes, a butterfly from a cacoon, a dragonfly emerging from a little waterbug.

This woman prays for redemption for us all: leaving the past behind and moving into a better future where we can see each other with wide open eyes and know the deepest truths with compassion and grace.

I suppose my lax attitude about punctuation will come back to haunt me.  If you need evidence, just reread this article carefully!  Of course if you read the core of my essay, the light which is my soul, is here. 

 

Humility



"The Mary's" at St. James in Oneonta, NY  Photo by C. Schroeder, 2011, all rights reserved.

 This morning, coming out of the food coop, I noticed a van with some churchy saying on it that talked about how humility comes before honor.  I think that the saying can be true.  But the question of what "humility" means and what "honor" means, would probably make for a lively discussion between me and the originator of the quote on the van. 

In one of Madeliene L'Engle's books, I believe it is Walking on Water, she talks about how failure didn't make her humble.  Success made her humble.  Yes.  It's true.  Finding one's voice, and having that voice heard and honored creates humility.  Perhaps the long struggle to that place helps create character, but success in the truest sense of the word, success when we are living out our purpose in this world, makes us very humble and grateful and joyful.  So I don't necessarily concur with the writer in the first paragraph...was it Solomon?  I think that sometimes honor can fill us with humility. 

Too often "humility" and "humiliation" seem interchangeable to some in this world.  Grinding someone down into the dust, beating them senseless with the message of their worthlessness and uselessness does NOT create someone who is humble.  It creates someone who is afraid and broken and wounded.  And much too often, those who abuse their power are people who really have little to no self worth.  They try to find it in intimidating, abusing, humiliating those who are more vulnerable than they are.  They try to find it in stalking people who are in truth much, much more powerful than they are.  Because even the rapist or the murderer or the child molester and the vileness of those acts against us cannot take away the core that makes us who we are.  That is eternal.  The terrible stuff that happens in life may leave us covered in mud, but it cannot reach the core.  That core is our soul, our spirit and it is infused with holiness, with light, with the Christ!  No one, not the most vile of offenders can destroy that. 

It often takes a lifetime to remember the core of who we are.  But when we do, we have true power, and it is rooted in light and in love.

Humility is about having that true power and using it wisely to encourage and build up, to help others see their worth, even if they don't have an ounce of self respect.  I have a friend like that.  I doubt that she even knows that she does it, or knows the power that she has.  Being with her bouys me up!  Leaves me happier.  It leaves me with a deeper sense of who I really am.  She sees the Christ in me and honors that. 

Well...as the preacher likes to say:  GLOOOOO--RY!!!!

Let's keep shining up the mirrors, the glass, the reflectors that we are, so the glory and the power of that which is eternal is really clear!    

Hard Day

 

Money and the Power of Fear

"There's not enough" the rational, "in control" Constance says to me.
"I don't want to hear it.  That's fear talking.  Spirit provides in abundance."
"Oh sure...like that time..."
"Stop it!  Get a grip."
The cash register rings and the clerk speaks the total.
Constance gasps.
"Stop it!  It's going to be ok.  Really it will.  We'll find a way."
"You already owe so much.  We don't have any living room furniture and you're sleeping on an air mattress for God's sake."
"Maybe it IS for God's sake!  And besides, that air mattress is quite comfortable.  And I've kept this stuff to a minimum.  You begrudge me some pillows and glasses and silverware?  C'mon."
"Starting all over at your age Connie, really!"
"What of it?  Lots of older people start over.  Let's make a stop at the Y and see what a membership costs."
"You won't use it.  You'll spend the money and it will just be a waste."
"Now just wait a minute.  Remember all the times I HAVE used my memberships?  All that swimming I used to do."
     Constance just hrumphs ungraciously.  She is rather difficult this overly responsible, purse lipped, penny pinching, disapproving but dear person who wants to meet her obligations.  I do listen to her.   I write down what I spend.  I keep track of it all.  But to be honest, I know how to deal with her.  It's the fearful one I don't have name for.  She would never think herself worthy of ANYTHING at all...just chicken backs, or bread and water.  I don't think even St. Francis himself or Mother Teresa could rival her in the department of deprivation and sacrifice.  Of course. all of that emerges out of the bog that is the past. 
     Does it sound familiar in any way shape or form?  Money worries can escalate into abject terror for me these days.  I'm on a tight budget.  I have such a desire to create a beautiful home.  But even garage sales cost money that I don't have at present. 
     It's going to be ok.  Even sleeping on an air mattress for months.  Even if the only plants on the patio are ones in my imagination.  Even though the squeaky card table and chair here in my room wiggle every time I move.  Even though my piano was bought completely on credit.  There will be a way through.  I've got some ideas for earning some extra money.  I've got some hope in my pocket...so it's not completely empty. 
     How does that old song go that I used to sing at nursing homes? 
     "Hey Look me over, lend me an ear, Fresh out of clover and mortgaged up to here.
      Don't pass the plate folks, don't pass the cup.
      I figure whenever you're down and out, the only way is up
      And I'll be up like a rosebud, high on the vine,
      Don't thumb your nose bud, take a tip from mine,
      I'm a little bit short of the elbow room, so let me get me some,
      And look out world here I come!
               Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh from the 1960 musical Wildcat

So I take a good, inspiring look at the foothills out the window and dream about how I can find the money for a small business start up costs.  Uh oh...Constance is starting another lecture.  I'd better go.

Have a blessed day!

new starts

New Life pulsing,

Old Life ebbing away.
New Life pulsing,
Old Life ebbing away.

Being born, a new creation
Old life ebbing away
Dancing this eternal story,
Old life ebbeing away...
pressing through to the light of day.
Old life ebbing away,
pressing through to the light of day.
Old life ebbing away,
pressing through to the light of day.

This is a simple chant that came to me a few days ago as I moved into a new apartment here in Oregon.  It's a beautiful place, and I hope I can find a way to be here for a good long time.  But old things still hover around me here.  Old fears.  Old mindsets.  Old tapes playing in my head.  Still, the old life is ebbing away.  However strong the pain and the fear and the confusion, it is passing and something new is coming to life.  This valley is known as the valley of healing.  And it is.  And the quest for healing is a demanding one.  It isn't a simple thing to face the self.  It is complicated and messy and miraculous.

This week I keep thinking about this time I was going to preach at this little country church.  All week long that week I struggled to find the right illustration for the sermon.  It was about (have you guessed?), NEW LIFE.  A new creation.  It was Sunday morning, and I still didn't have a good illustration.  There are plenty of good illustrations, one would think, right?  Well, my mind couldn't find anything.  I tried to center myself as I was driving to church.  Tried to open my heart.  Nothing. 

"Okay Spirit, but this is going to be one of my more boring sermons."  I could hear a faint chuckle from out there in the cosmos.  I think she was holding back a big belly laugh. 



The drive was beautiful.  It was autumn in upstate New York.  I pulled up to the church and onto a grassy parking lot with a fence.  As I got out of the car I noticed a couple of the church members on the other side of the fence in the field with a cow.  And there it was.  The cow was giving birth.  And for the first time in my life, I watched a calf being born.  How exciting!!!  What a miracle!!!  And as I watched, I thought to myself:  "YUCK!  What a MESS!!!"

Yes there it was, my illustration for the sermon.  Yes, I could hear Spirit laughing aloud.  "Very funny" I muttered.

"What did you say?"  Carol asked me, getting out of her car. 

"Oh, just muttering to myself.  God's enjoying a joke on me at the moment."

"What a sweet little calf."  she said, her eyes following the newborn.



public domain photo taken by Kim Newburgh



By this time the baby was actually standing on its feet, quite wobbly, looking for some breakfast after such an ordeal as being born.  Big eyes blinked at this bright new world.  And the farmers who had helped the cow, were off to remove those bloody clothes and shower.  They made it in time for the sermon!

Giving birth to oneself sounds so impressive.  But the reality is messy.  And it hurts.  The reality means mucking around through the mess to get to the new life.   It means looking at the not so pretty stuff about oneself.  The plain truth.  But the final result is worth every bit of the mess and even the pain. 

Blessed Be. 

With gratitude this day and every day for the new life which comes to birth in this world.  May we have courage as we face the mess and embrace the miracle of our lives.

Everyone loved the sermon by the way.  It was one of my better ones.

From Oregon

Isn't she something? Public domain. Courtesy of Caia Cupito and Ore-Cal RC&D

It has been 11 months since I've left upstate New York and stopped blogging on "She Who Listens."  I am hoping to start up again as I have found a temporary home, which I hope become permanent.  Southern Oregon is a beautiful place to live, and of course Mount Shasta, which is just a couple of hours from here is one of the places that has always spoken to me.  The first time I lived in Oregon, a friend and I drove a U-Haul through the mountains on January 1st.  A fool hardy thing...if I had known, but Spirit and some angels were with us...it was unseasonably warm, and there was rain and sunshine.  We came through Mt. Shasta on I-5, and found ourselves driving through the end of a double rainbow.  There were several more, totalling six rainbows, all the way down into Oregon. 

That was some 19 years ago.  So many changes over the years.  Traffic was always an issue here, but the influx from California has brought much more traffic flow on I-5.  Driving here requires absolute presence to one's driving.  One MUST be on constant alert for bicyclists and people crossing on crosswalks.  And I got a speeding ticket the week before I moved into the small townhouse I'm renting.  50 mph in a 35 mph zone.  I was stressed and not paying close enough attention.  $160!  OUCH!  That felt a bit cruel and unusual for someone on a very limited budget.  I think I'm getting the hang of driving here however.  I just go quite slow and keep my wits about me.  The police department does a good job of keeping order here, and as always, I'm grateful for the people who put their lives on the line, so the rest of us can be safer.  Well, they say "pride goeth before a fall,"  (is that a quakerism?), and I guess I have just been too prideful about my good driving record.  So I better not complain.

Anyone looking for a a nice place to share?   I've started the hunt for a roomate.  Just posted last night, but this isn't an easy place to find housing, and usually there are bundles of applicants for rooms.  I've only gotten one reply thus far...someone from California coming to work at SOU.  We'll see what today brings.

My most recent good news is that I got a piano!  A Charles Frederick Stein, which has a wonderful sound.  I got a good deal on it.  I'm a bit shy about playing it as I don't want to bother the neighbors.  But I'm starting to play a bit again.  And I'm grateful. 

Well...that's my latest news.  We'll see how things go.  I'll keep you posted.