and there is a communion with God that asks for nothing, yet asks for everything….He who seeks the Father more than anything He can give, is likely to have what he asks, for he is not likely to ask amiss.
…George MacDonald
February 8, 2010
a retreat…
Webster defines it this way…a place affording peace, quiet, privacy, or security
and for us the past few days, this is what it looked like…
…a little place in the Texas hill county built by a German stonebuilder for his son in 1876
(sorry the lighting is low in some of the pictures, but they tried to stay true to the place, and the bathroom was the only room with a light in the ceiling!)
and although the inside of this little cottage was cozy and precious,
most of our time was spent out here…
…’nuff said:)
February 4, 2010
being recalled…
my Reverend Mother,–i have taken this opportunity to communicate to you the thoughts of one of our society [Brother Lawrence], concerning the wonderful effect and continual succor which he receives from the presence of God.
if sometimes he is a little too much absent from that Divine Presence, which happens often when he is most engaged in his outward business, God presently makes Himself felt in his soul to recall him. he answers with exact fidelity to these inward drawings, wither by an elevation of his heart towards God, or by a meek and loving regard to Him, or by such words as love forms upon these occasions, as for instance, my God, behold me, wholly yours: Lord, make me according to Your heart. and then it seems to him (as in effect he feels it) that this God of love, satisfied with such few words, reposes again and rests in the depth and center of his soul. the experience of these things gives him such an assurance that God is always deep within his soul, that no doubt of it can arise, whatever may betide.
judge from this what contentment and satisfaction he enjoys, feeling continually within him so great a treasure: no longer is he in anxious search after it, but he has it open before him, free to take of it what he pleases.
he complains much of our blindness and exclaims often that we are to be pitied, who content ourselves with so little. God’s treasure, he says, is like an infinite ocean, yet a little wave of feeling, passing with the moment, contents us. blind as we are, we hinder God, and stop the current of His graces. but when He finds a soul permeated with a living faith, He pours into it His graces and His favors plenteously; into the soul they flow like a torrent, which, after being forcibly stopped against its ordinary course, when it has found a passage, spreads with impetuosity its pent-up flood.
yes, often we stop this torrent, by the little value we set upon it. but let us stop it no longer: let us enter into ourselves and break down the barrier which holds it back. let us make the most of the day of grace, let us redeem the time that is lost, perhaps we have but little left to us: death follows close, let us be well prepared; for we die but once, and a miscarriage then is irretrievable.
…from The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence
February 3, 2010
down to the river…
sung by Alison Krauss on one of my favourite soundtracks, O Brother, Where Art Thou?
(and yes…i love the movie, too!!)
February 1, 2010
love bade me welcome…
Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back
guilty of dust and sin.
but quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
from my first entrance in,
drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
if i lacked anything.
“a guest,” i answered, “worthy to be here”;
Love said, “you shall be he.”
“i, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
i cannot look on thee.”
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
“who made the eyes but I?”
“truth, Lord, but i have marred them; let my shame
go where it doth deserve.”
“and know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”
“my dear, then i will serve.”
“you must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
so i did sit and eat.
…George Herbert
January 28, 2010
shimmers of light…
i have been silent for awhile. when i created this blog, i wanted it to be a place where my writing would be woven with others’ art. however, others’ art has been what i’ve needed to share for awhile. this place has been a healing balm to my soul. plus, i happen to thoroughly enjoy quotes and such:)
my lack of writing has been due to a myriad of things. one…i’m busy! i am a mom, you know:) another is…seasons of life nurture various things. in my last blog, i needed to write. but now my art is dripping onto other things as well.
but the main reason i’ve been quiet is i’ve been hollow. the last 2 months of our lives have led us down paths i never desired. you can read a bit of the beginning of it here.
our 8 year-old daughter had mole removed 2 weeks before thanksgiving. the biopsy report was inconclusive as to whether or not it was melanoma. more skin around the mole needed to be removed to rid that area of all atypical cells and give us another biopsy to view. this meant surgery, anesthesia…all sorts of things you never want to put in the same sentence as your child’s name.
and it meant waiting. we waited to hear the road our family would next travel.
in the midst of the waiting, we visited various doctors in order to find the right one to do the surgery. in the midst of the waiting, we learned that our daughter also has a rare and chronic skin disease. in the midst of the waiting, we tried to protect our little girl while dealing with an unwanted gift. in the midst of the waiting, we screamed, wept, questioned, broke open. yet in the midst of waiting, we learned to live.
the day before her surgery, i read this verse in 2 Chronicles 14:11…then Asa…said, “Lord, there is no one like you to help the powerless against the mighty.”
this reminder, this proclamation, this truth swelled up in me. i shouted it out. i whispered it gently. i pleaded it. i rejoiced in it. i choked on the words. i felt like Moses reminding God of who He was. i voiced things such as…
Lord, there is no one like you to lie next to my daughter on that bed.
Lord, there is no one like you to guide the doctor’s thoughts and hands.
Lord, there is no one like you to sit beside us as we wait.
Lord, there is no one like you to help the pathologists read the biopsy.
Lord, there is no one like you to heal my daughter.
Lord, there is no one like you to lean into through all this.
that was all i knew to pray that day and the next, when my daughter was covered in tubes and masks, sleeping heavily from medication, with possibly a life-threatening condition…and i could do nothing.
for about 2 1/2 weeks prior to reading that verse, i was so empty that all i could pray was “help.”
six days after the surgery, we heard the results. they had done multiple skin tests on our daughter, and no trace of cancerous, precancerous or atypical cells were found! the waiting was over.
we have begun treatment on her skin condition, and it’s a bit of a rocky road as well, but i am walking this road while holding her hand. the other road…my hand might’ve been empty.
why am i writing this? i think i needed to remind myself of what the past 2 months have held for us. when you are in the midst of chaos, you find a way to live it. it’s ugly and it’s beautiful. it’s hopeful and it’s weary. it births peace and it sucks you dry. but as soon as you see the light at the end of the tunnel, you scramble towards it as quickly as you can. you breathe. you step out of that tunnel and take your first step on the path ahead of you. true, it may not be anything but a continuation of the same path you were on before, but you are changed.
for me…i have seen glimpses of my Father in ways i couldn’t have otherwise. i have been given a taste of what it is like to hear that your precious child may have cancer. i have looked at my daughter not knowing if i could do that in months to come. my heart aches for those parents who are dealing with these things. i did not know that ache 2 months ago. i would not have requested it. but i am so thankful for it now.
and though that chaos was all-encompassing, it is so easily and quickly tossed over my shoulder and left behind. i’m writing this because i don’t want to forget these things. i don’t want to wallow in the murkiness of that tunnel, but i don’t want to forget those shimmers of light that i saw along the way. though so painful, they are beautiful, and i don’t want them to grow dim.
January 26, 2010
identify…
if you want to identify me, ask me not where i live, or what i like to eat, or how i comb my hair, but ask me what i am living for, in detail, ask me what i think is keeping me from living fully for the thing i want to live for.
…Thomas Merton
January 25, 2010
i sit and think…
i sit beside the fire and think
of all that i have seen,
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;
of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.
i sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that i shall never see.
for still there are so many things
that i have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.
i sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that i shall never know.
but all the while i sit and think
of times there were before,
i listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.
…J.R.R. Tolkien
