Not Urgent

Hi Friend,

How’s your weekend going? When I woke up yesterday morning, life just felt different. There were lots of things to be done. I had overslept and needed to be out the door soon, but I didn’t feel a sense of urgency about anything. The calm atmosphere in my home was almost startling. This has been an emotional week for my family. We all fell into the trap of urgency at the same time. Heidi’s heart pleaded for opportunities to change the world NOW. Lincoln rushed home from school to play his new Pokemon video game. My need to write and to find the voice of my blog felt imperative. My emails begged for quick replies. It was as if I was afraid that my thoughts would disappear forever if not instantly communicated. There wasn’t anything wrong with any of our desires, but at times we let the desires consume us. I found myself writing when I should have been making dinner, scribbling notes on a piece of paper during a concert rather than listening, making careless mistakes at work. Looking back, I see several times when spiritual intuition had suggested that I approach or do things differently, but distracted by my untempered zeal I didn't listen, and regrettably I ended up at times being less than kind and compassionate to my family and friends.

I think maybe we were caught up in society’s demand for instant gratification—text and instant messaging, cell phones, faxes, fast food. Sometimes things do need immediate attention, but I realized nothing needs to feel urgent. Last week was a wake up call to remember to trust God to take care of every detail--to put everyone and everything in the right place at the right time. I need to be patient, to savor ideas and let them evolve.

I can’t say our weekend has been without its hairy moments, but I’ve kept remembering and finding my way back to that Saturday morning peace. Today, Heidi and Michael are off protesting the treatment of circus animals with some new friends. Lincoln beat his Pokemon diamond game, and I unexpectedly found another blog.

Enjoy the rest of your Sabbath.

Much love,
Maria

Postscripts: I like Paul’s advice in Hebrews (12:1), “…let us run with patience the race that is set before us...,” and from James (1:4), “…let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” I don't think "urgent" was in Jesus' vocabulary. When he heard that Jairus’ daughter and Lazarus were seriously ill, he didn’t rush to their sick beds. By the time Jesus arrived, they had died; but it wasn't too late to raise them from the dead, proving not only the healing power of the Christ but also the immortality of life.

I Found It!

Dear Family and Friends,

I think I found my voice. A friend suggested that I didn't need to look any farther than the emails I so love to write. (Why do I feel like Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz" realizing that her ticket home was right at her heels all along?) I expanded on a recent email a bit and voila--"Yielding to the Art" can be found below. Email has united me with some of my dearest friends, been a vehicle to think through deep issues, a forum for endearing chit chat, and lots of exercise for my happy fingers. So this morning I will yield to my voice and yield to Grace.

"There's no place like home."

I love you,
Maria

Yielding to the Art

(wearing my email voice)

Good Morning Dear Friend,

Thanks for talking yesterday and sharing some of the things you’re thinking about. Our conversation was a reminder to get out of my own little world and make sure I'm embracing all whom I love, and truly all mankind, in my prayers--a reminder to practice what recently began to feel like my ”art” of healing. I remember laying in bed praying about a situation (sometimes I actually pray really well flat on my back). I got some great ideas, but as I tried to apply these inspirations to the problem, the ideas kept leading me off in other directions. I discovered the ideas related to a world event, to work, to my kids. It was really cool! However, I kept trying to reign in my thoughts. I felt guilty because I couldn’t seem to focus on the issue at hand. This jumping around didn’t seem to fit with my educated sense of what disciplined prayer in the form of Christian Science treatment was supposed to look like. Then all of the sudden I got the message, “Quit resisting this train of thought, this is your art.” So, I yielded to the thought journey. By the time I mentally returned to face the original challenge, I was so filled with a universal sense of God being present everywhere that the problem no longer seemed formidable. Taking the specific prayers for whatever is in thought and seeing the universality of these prayers seems very effective for me in my healing work. This morning my thoughts and prayers have been happily flitting all over the place. It has been refreshing.

Have a great day. I’ll be thinking of you!

With love,
Maria

Postscripts: A friend of Evan Mehlenbacher’s recently spoke about a spiritual journey that led to the healing of arthritis. He says, “One of the first things I learned was how prayer can be both a science and an art.”(see April 21st posting on www.spiritview.net); and “Practicing the Art and Science of timeless Christian healing.” is a trademark of Kate Robertson's website and healing work (www.prayerbasedsolutions.com).

Yes, It is a Science!

What a weekend! The last month has been extremely busy at work, and things needing attention and prayer at home have abounded as well (and that’s not including the laundry and grocery shopping). Problems with my email account tipped the delicate balance I had been trying to maintain, and yesterday morning I simply fell apart. I hadn’t received replies to some important emails, and the silence brought hurt feelings and tears--tears that I managed to hold back at church, but which returned in full force as soon as I got home. Later in the day, I discovered that loving replies had indeed been sent, but were being filtered out as undeliverable by my server. But even knowing the truth of the situation didn’t seem to quell the tears. I still felt like I had been through the wringer. I was tired, sad that my on-line server had caused so many problems, upset with myself for being so fragile, disappointed that my fears and tears had made things difficult for my family and others.

It was time to practice everything I had preached in my first few blogs—the transforming power of gratitude, the magnitude of God’s grace, and the willingness to move forward with a new prayer-impelled perspective. I don’t believe there is any formula to prayer, but it seemed important in this case to prove to myself that my postings weren’t just fluff. So I once again began my prayers with simple gratitude—in this case, gratitude relating to grace: “Thank you God for causing me to feel Your grace—a grace that refreshes and wipes away tears. Thank you God for making me peaceful and joyful.” I had to persist, to keep wrestling with fatigue and self-condemnation, but as I did, little by little I could feel the burden lift. The religion I practice is called Christian Science, and I could feel the science of it (not just of Christian Science but of heartfelt prayer irrespective of denomination). I could feel laws of gratitude and grace in operation as peace and confidence began to return to my thought. Sensing the science at work helped give momentum to my continued thankful prayers.

It was several hours before the sparkle returned to my eyes, but I ended the day once again amazed at God’s mercy—the slate had been wiped clean. I was able to look at my husband free from the shame that had fueled earlier tears, and I went to bed ready to face the new week with hope.

New Jeans

One of my goals is to find my voice as a thinker and healer. However, I never thought this desire would lead to a blog. (Watch out what you ask God for!) It really wasn’t that long ago when posting a comment on someone else’s blog felt like a gigantic step for me. I feel like a total rookie. I expect that the timbre and color, the sound and feel of my blog may change as I experiment with what does and doesn’t fit me—kind of like going to a clothing store and trying on racks and racks of pants to find the perfect pair of jeans.

I did that this summer. My daughter and I went to the Gap in search of “non-Mom jeans.” God must have led me to the right sales clerk because she didn’t laugh at me but sent me off to a dressing room and brought me various options until we found pants that fit. Even though I loved my new jeans, it took several months before I was completely comfortable in them. I wasn’t used to the length or flair or where they rode on my hips. For a while, I found myself constantly readjusting them. Sometimes I wanted to throw out the new look and feel altogether. But as I headed off to a jazz concert last night, I didn’t think twice about quickly pulling on a pair of my now comfy “old” jeans.

It’s interesting to me how my clothing adventures have so closely paralleled my life adventures. The last year has been full of paradigm shifts for me—trying on new ideas, mentally tugging and pulling on them to make them my own. Just as I’ve been replacing and thinning my wardrobe piece by piece (sometimes getting rid of clothes I’ve had since high school), I’ve been sifting through my thoughts asking, “How did this perspective get here? Is it something I inherited from my family? Has it been molded by the values of the culture or religion I’m accustomed to? ” I’ve come to enjoy wrestling with ideas.

However, frankly at the moment I’m feeling a little naked. I’m not exactly sure when I’m going to come out of my mental dressing room and what I’ll be wearing. I don’t have a plan for this blog. I can’t promise myself or anyone else consistency. Yet, whenever I write, I hope to come forth with compassion and honesty. Beyond that, God only knows.

So here’s to new jeans! new thoughts! new voices!

Grace--Truly Amazing

One of my phobias is that I will hurt someone I love--not physically, but their feelings, their heart, in a way that will alter our relationship forever. Fortunately, I’m blessed with a very forgiving family. I am amazed at their ability to express mercy. With my husband and kids you can tell when that moment of complete forgiveness occurs. There’s eye contact, a bashful smile, a tender kiss, or a group hug. Sometimes with friends or with family members living farther away, it's harder to tell where things stand; and often, long after things have seemed to blow over, I find myself wondering if things really are OK.

Last weekend I was frustrated about life in general, questioning my own and society’s values. My mental banter spilled over into an email I was writing, and I said some things to a friend that ended up fostering heavy hearts for both of us. We both prayed, continued to dialog, and worked things out, but there was part of me that still felt awful, was still afraid of hidden damage to our friendship. The fears were groundless. Like my family, this is a friend who truly forgives and forgets, but I couldn’t seem to forget that I had caused hurt. I was having trouble forgiving myself.

On the way to the grocery store, I randomly put in some CDs and soon found myself in fellowship with favorite artists and their soulful songs of God’s love and grace. I used to think of grace only as a virtuous quality that people expressed—poise when things are dicey, kindness that makes people feel comfortable, or the ease with which a ballerina floats across a stage. Recently I’ve become familiar with a Christian concept of God’s grace that somehow had eluded me. As I have begun to expand the scope of my spiritual reading and listening (I'm currently enjoying Philip Yancey’s book “What So Amazing about Grace?”), I’m finding a definition of “grace” that has become one of the most endearing concepts I have of God. Grace truly is amazing. It’s God’s unconditional love that completely wipes the slate clean leaving no scars, no wounds, no grudges. It’s the Biblical father running to greet his Prodigal son and throwing a welcome home party.

Mary Baker Eddy wrote a line by line interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer. Commenting on “…forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” she writes, “…Love is reflected in love.” As a teenager, I wondered if an adult mentor really cared about me. I so longed for her approval. I remember looking at her across our church foyer when “Love is reflected in love” came to mind along with the “ah ha” understanding that God, Love, is the source of our thoughts—mine and my mentor’s. Since all her thoughts came from God, she could only see and think of me as God did. There is no way she could not love me. I stopped worrying about what she might think of me, and we did become wonderful friends.

The songs I had been listening to reminded me that “Love is reflected in love.” Grace is reflected in grace. I got out of the car last Sunday and went grocery shopping with a lighter heart. While I hadn’t been able to actually see my friend and share a “yes, all is well” hug, I had felt God’s embrace encircling us both. I began to find a self-forgiving peace. God's grace had set me free.

Gratitude Bridges the Gap

Several years ago, I learned an important lesson about the healing power of gratitude. My friend Cheryl suggested that right in the midst of turmoil--whether it be pain, fear or anger--I could stop and thank God “for having done everything so well.” I soon had an opportunity to put this idea to the test. One afternoon my young son and daughter got into a tiff, and before long it was all I could do to keep them from physically lashing out at each other. Exhausted from restraining my son and feeling totally helpless to control the situation, I finally retreated to a bedroom, shut the door, and sat down on the floor. As my kids ranted and raved in the background, I began to pray, "Thank you God for having done everything so well. Thank you for making Lincoln and Heidi calm. Thank you for causing them to express peace. Thank you for filling our home with joy and kindness." I wasn't thanking God for what I hoped to find expressed in our home in the future; my prayers of thanksgiving were an acknowledgement that right then and there all was well and harmonious. I became so absorbed in my grateful celebration of God's presence that the next time I listened for what might be going on downstairs, my children were happily playing together--and apparently had been for quite some time.

I have also experienced the power of gratitude to sustain me when the going is tough or when resolution or healing seems slow in coming. Sometimes I have felt so ill or disconcerted that I have been unsure how I could accomplish necessary tasks. In moments like this, I've learned to completely put every activity into God's hands, humbly thanking Him for each dish loaded into the dishwasher or every letter mailed at the office. Almost without fail, these difficult days end up being extremely productive. Gratitude helps me prove that God's strength and dominion are present facts in spite of what the body or mind may argue to the contrary.

These experiences came to thought as I was pondering comments my friend Kate shares at the end of a recent blog Stone River Reflections: "So when days grows dark and cold..." (be sure to read the follow-up comments she posted). Kate suggests that "there is no future (in a linear sense of things) there is only now." So much of life seems to be about getting from point A to point B. Last night, I realized that gratitude bridges the gap, breaks up and eliminates the time/space continuum between where we are and where we want or need to be. Like the law that irresistibly draws two magnets together, gratitude pulls point A and B together--not starting from point A and eventually reaching point B, but more like two hands moving rapidly towards each other and coming together in an irresistible clap of delight.

Reason may say that gratitude should be a future act after "the goods" are received, but I believe present gratitude for that which our heart seeks, "gratitude in advance" as some people call it, actually changes our experience of the present, speeding what may seem to be the future into our experience now. When my children were arguing, gratitude focused my thought on the immediate spiritual reality--God's control right then and there, and this changed the atmosphere of my home. Harmony became all that I could possibly hear.

Sometimes we have no idea what point B might look like. This is a perfect time to thank God for giving us purpose and vision, for supplying every need, giving us all the ideas we need right now. As we do, we can expect apparent limits of time, opportunities, or funds to disappear. I've seen over and over again how gratitude brings tangible and often unexpected results--the time we were out of food and a friend dropped off leftovers from a family feast, the hand-me-downs of a coat, even socks, for one of our children just before I was about to spend money we didn’t really have to buy them, a significant job opportunity when I was humble enough to apply for employment at Burger King, incredible forgiveness shown as I cherished mercy.

Gratitude brings trust in and wonderful proofs of God's ever-present, all-encompassing care, now and forever.