Thursday, September 28, 2006

Dear God,

I was empty. I wandered the sterile, empty halls of my heart and I could not find God. Try as I may God was nowhere to be found. I felt panicky as if this was all there was to life, no central control, no building where God was housed. And so I wandered. Afraid.

And then a startling thing happened. A grandmother entered my picture, carrying concrete and buckets of water. She poured a foundation, a waiting place for God. And just as the groundwork was laid, another person appeared carrying lumber, a hammer and nails. I heard holy pounding. The wood came together and I could see walls beginning to form. I could see that something great was about to take place. And before I knew it there were others who came to help raise the walls upon the foundation. They stuck around to build a roof, an open roof, a roof that opened to the heavens. It was then I heard the sound of trumpets, a great chair was carried in and placed at the center. And then God came. God had not only provided His own home in my heart; he had called others to do it for him, and ultimately for me.

The sweetness of the grace afforded me stirs me in the depths of my being. I have this home where I can travel and find God at any second. And my friends, spiritual friends and family helped build this home for God, a permanent residence in my soul.

Yesterday some special friends held a surprise birthday party for me. There was great food, so much laughter we could have rolled in the aisles numerous times, presents and and so much more. Through their love I realize how God has brought people into my life along the way, carriers of God's agape, builders of God's home within me. I have a sacred home because God put sacred souls in my life.

My 60th birthday was a day of reflection, of my giftedness, of the blessedness of my relationship with God. I wandered the halls of my soul and counted my blessings, so many, so very many. When someone tried to say I was 27 and holding, I reminded them that I was 60. My age is an indication of the years God has been in my life. I may not have always known the Master was close by but the years of wisdom tell me that God has always resided within me. I just was unaware.

And so my house is full, of love for the gardener of my soul, for my spiritual companions, for the family I was born into and the family that forms each day. A wonder!

Holy deliverer,
you are the true center of my soul.
I have a home,
a spiritual home
erected by your friends
and mine.
I see the holy presence.
I smell the sweet scent of joy
and I know that Love abides.
I overflow with gratitude.

Always, Andrea

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Dear God,

Sixty years old. I just turned 60 years old. When I was growing up, I remember knowing people who were in their 60's. My grandmother. My mother and father. I recall thinking they were old, close to the time people die. But I also remember the life and energy they had at 60. They could still think and be fun people.

Sixty years old. I am today 60 years old. My life and health aren't what they used to be, even one year ago. My health is more precarious than it has ever been. I have to trust more and more in my doctor's care and in the meditative efforts of spiritual, emotional and physical healing. Without my medicine and careful attention I would be dead.

But I am not. My life is dramatically different than what it was twenty years ago, ten years ago, a year ago. My life in faith has soared to new heights. I have come to realize I am a woman of value. I spent decades trying to believe in myself. As God has taken hold of my life as I have given it, I have discovered the eternal spring of joy. I can laugh at almost anything. The joy of every day living is a wonder to me. God is in each day.

When I look at my health, my physical body, and my spirit, that life-giving source, I am amazed. The greater my health problems the more God has come close. My health issues have brought me to new levels of relationship with the God who made this flesh and bone 60 years ago.

My life experiences have been dramatic and many. My travels to foreign countries have taught me about the way of living simply, gratefully. Especially to the many places I visited where people have few worldy possessions and their perspective future is bleak. My discoveries in faith as I looked into the eyes of those who have so little, has been an act of faith. In Russia and the Ukraine, the Middle East and Africa, the spirit life is lived at the center, not on the periphery which is so apparent in America. They have been my teachers and I shall never know the extent of their influence.

Cancer taught me to love each day. To smell the roses, to stop and listen for God, to walk forward in spirit confidence. I am different because I had cancer. A good difference, not a bad one.

I live in abundance, both in the material and spiritual world. No, I am not a millionaire, far from it. But in comparison to most of the world, I am a rich woman. And those who are poor have been my life's greatest mentors. They know the value of each day's life. I don't want to discard even one moment without giving thanks to God.

I am sixty today, alive and joyous and grateful.

Love to my Creator, Andrea

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Dearest God,

One year ago today I was lamenting over the fact that I would be returning the next day from New Mexico to Indiana on the first leg of my renewal leave. I reflected upon my early days of the renewal, of fear and anxiety, the unknown and the unfamiliar, the call for surrender and utter trust. How frightened I was in the early hours. But the learnings at Christ's feet taught me much about cleaving unto God and walking the prepared path.

I left a portion of my soul, the wounded, injured part behind. In safe keeping I surrendered that unhealed piece, setting it aside in the desert land of the monastery. Holy ground, that part of myself resides now on holy ground. God cares for it now. I no longer need it.

When I remember the many graces of God during those days, I am brought to my knees in prayer and thanksgiving. God breathed on me, so close, so incredibly close. A visible shadow of the Almighty drew me to a place I never knew. In the dry, hot desert I found God and he found me. Together we worked on my soul, God revealing the parched areas in dire need of living water. I soaked up that spirit life, dropping the broken parts on the sacred ground where God would reshape them into healing agents for others who would come in search of the Divine.

And in my study today I saw my own joy when I met with the Pastor Luis, the Hispanic pastor and his interpreter Yvette. Together we hailed God, bringing him glory for the miracle we all recognize. Miracles one year ago, miracles today.

The magnificence of God goes beyond our human understanding but our inner spirit knows the joy of God, the deep inner knowing. The sacred sound and space, the movement of spirit, love from Love, light from Light. Dwelling in the deep brings God's joy to the surface.

By the end of this day I had celebrated his majesty many times alone and with others. The life of faith enriches the human soul to live out of the well of living water. That's where joy comes from and today was filled with divine joy.

We walked together today.
We drank from the well together.
We laughed and smiled at one another.
This great God and I.
We absorbed the beauty all around us,
then breathed it back out into the world.
It is not ours.
It has been recycled by others who journeyed with the Divine,
then released it into the universe,
awaiting the next sojourner.
God is life in the world
and the human who discovers it
walks in great joy.

Love always, Andrea

Monday, September 25, 2006

My dearest God,

A series of events unfolded today that put a huge smile on my face. I did not know that God had anything special in mind when I went to the hospital to visit a lady who is recovering from surgery. But God had a wondrous plan.

Our church had approved opening our doors to a french-speaking black Haitian Church, scheduled to come to our worship service on October 1 to be introduced and to have prayer for their leaders. Following our worship they would hold their own service. It was mostly all signed, sealed and delivered.

But when I returned from the hospital, the pastor was waiting in my office. He told me that another church closer to where their congregation lives had also approved their facility request. On Sunday they had voted to covenant with that church rather than ours. He thanked me for our generosity and the way in which we had reached out to them in loving service. We shook hands, promised prayers for each other's ministry and he left.

And then I got in my brief case, searching for a telephone number I had saved from a couple weeks earlier. I made the call and a Hispanic woman answered. I told her I was the pastor of Bethel and that I had received her call but had not called back because her request was one that I could not answer affirmatively. She had called to ask if their Hispanic congregation could rent our building for worship and meetings. Obviously with another congregation using our building it would be impossible.

But I then went on to explain that unexpectedly the pastor of the other congregation had just stopped by to tell me of the change in their situation. Our church was now open. I heard this whoop on the line. I invited her to come over immediately to look at our site. She was so excited, she was nearly beside herself. When she arrived with her daughter, we simply walked into one another's arms as if each were greeting Christ himself.

I walked her through our facility, even taking the little girl onto the playground. When we finished our tour, she asked when the building would be ready for them to move in, in the event that we approved their request. I laughed and told her that my congregation was already expecting a new congregation to join us in worship the upcoming Sunday. "Of course, they will be looking for black french-speaking Haitians. If you wish I'd like you to participate in our worship and we will introduce you and your leaders. We will even have a prayer for your ministry with us." She smiled the broadest smile and said, "this is the miracle we've been praying for!" Then she repeated it again. "This is our miracle!"

She went on to tell me that they have loved the church where they had been worshipping. However, the rooms they had been given to use had proven to be too small for them. "People have had to stand since July. We started with 10 just seven months ago and by late summer we had 80 in worship. We knew we had to find a bigger space. But we called many, many churches and they either told us they could not accomodate us or didn't call back. We have received so many nos.

She continued. "Last Sunday I leaned over to the pastor and reminded him that there was nowhere to meet this coming Sunday since the church needed to use the space we were afforded. We need to tell the congregation. He told me that he was not going to tell them. He was praying for a miracle and believing God was going to give it. We did not announce it." "Today," she went on, "I was praying so hard and you called. You are our miracle!" Then we walked inside my office to call the Spanish-speaking pastor. She had already called him earlier to say I had invited her to our church and he confidently said even before she came to our facility to look it over, "I believe this is our miracle! I believe this is our miracle!" We set up a meeting for Tuesday morning.

She was beaming and so was her little girl who played in the bowl of angel cards. She told me that she had grown up in a United Methodist Church. She had met the Lord Jesus as she sang in the choir and played parts in dramas. Fondly she recalled attending church with her father and how grateful she was for the Methodists. Feeling the power of the Holy Spirit upon us, I asked if we could pray together. We took one another's hands, the woman, her child, and the Heavenly Father and I offered God our praise.

As she stood to leave, we both knew this was a work of the Holy Spirit. We knew God's hand had been in the situation from the beginning. We hugged once again as I talked of how this coming Sunday was World Communion Sunday and that there would be no better day to begin our union together than to commune together with the Lord's Supper. "Oh, we would love to do that!" She proudly said.

As she left the building I told her I would begin the process by calling our church council chair who would contact our leaders through e-mail. Since we had approved the usage of our church facility by another congregation, we would simply do everything through e-mail including a vote. I bid her goodbye as she promised to see me in the morning. We walked in separate directions each believing that God had been present with us.

Amazing God,
how sweet the sound!
Your astonishing ways
confound even the brightest and most astute.
We cannot begin to manipulate
what so easily unfolds out of your hands.
You have made us one body.
We prayed to be more diverse.
You have brought the French and Spanish.
Who knows who you will bring tomorrow.
Our trust in you grows ever deeper.
We have seen your face at Bethel.
For months we have known your surprising ways.
You have shaped and remoulded us.
We needed it.
And our joy is full.
Come, Holy Spirit,
be with us and among us.
We seek to love and serve.
May blessings be heaped upon you,
now and forever.

Love in your service, Andrea

Sunday, September 24, 2006

My dearest God,

She wrote me a note. A courageous woman who left her abusive home for a ride on an angel's wings at a shelter. She said no to more abuse, to certain death.

I heard evidence of rising out of the heap of ash, of moving upward out of the darkness into the light, the light of heaven, of paradise, of beauty and goodness, the place where only Love exists, love for all children. She wrote of the parable of leaving home, the prodigal child. God hiding from this one who left, content to eat pig food.

Then finding God, returning home, the welcome and celebration. New life, worthy to spend the rest of her days in joy with God.

My own soul soared at the new life being expressed through her writing. Her rising from the ash heap of a burned life reminds me of resurrection. Not even a beating can keep God's own from rising into new life. Neither death on a cross for Jesus. Resurrection has awaited her and now she lives within this resurrected life. A new woman, a new face, a new hope, a new life.

I just offered her the Lord's Supper once. I listened to her grief. I put my arms around her, God's embrace for a sad, hurting child. That's all. She did the rest.

She is overcoming her past, a long series of abuse. She will shine like the one bright star in the sky, giving joy and a sense of awe to all those who are willing to look up. She will know the place she has left, never to return. And she will feel the warmth of the light all around and within her. The wonder of God shining brilliantly through her. A Savior's love will make it happen.

Daily I see the light of Christ appearing. Not some manipulation of the mind, but rather real lives, real stories where God is walking, making a difference, sharing His great love, changing people. Life is meant to be lived in Love. And the Love is designed to be shared.

This glowing of the Spirit is never to be possessed, but rather shared like the bread broken for the world. I can eat a whole loaf and be filled, but I am only one. But when the bread is offered to all, we are many, of the Light, of the Love, of the Joy. And sharing the bread is so fun, so meaningful, looking into the starving souls and offering the Bread of Life and witnessing first hand the mysterious power held within the leaven.

One changed life makes the whole earth shake. Because the earth is held in God's hands and when God smiles or laughs with joy, the whole world shakes with Him. My eyes have seen this wonder, this magnificent event. And to experience it is never to return to the days before.

As the song goes,
"Mine eyes have seen the glory
of the coming of the Lord;
he is trampling out the vintage
where the grapes of wrath are stored;
he hath loosed the fateful lightning
of his terrible swift sword;
his truth is marching on.
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on."

Yours for eternity, Andrea

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Dear God,

Two little boys stayed overnight with their grandma and grandpa. When I arose early to write you, it was just a few minutes later that the 4 and 6 year olds made their way to the basement. That's where the toys are kept. As I began to write, they began to play with the Matchbox cars. Not used to boys who imagine themselves as world renowned racers, I figured my writing would have to be put off till later.

I walked over to the play area and asked them if they wanted to be spies. Their eyes popped open wide. "Sure!" They said. I searched through the toys to find just the right items for spies. "First, you will have to select a spy bag." I told them as they went through old purses. "Second, you will need to figure out what you want in your spy kit." In a matter of minutes the spy boys had selected getaway cars and motorcycles, hats, disguises, parachutes, invisible men, spy watches and suits, spy guns (water pistols, of course) and spy water. Filling their bags I had them put up their right hand to take an oath. "I promise to defend the United States of America." They both repeated as they crawled up the stairs to spy on the adults who had since gotten up.

So much fun, they had so much fun donned in spy clothing. Later in the morning the oldest sided up to me and asked me to play. I was tired. (Spying is labor intensive) I asked him why he wanted me to play and he said I was fun. I told him I needed to talk with the adults and the boys took off down the hall to play.

I didn't intend to spend time with the kids this morning. I wanted a quiet time to write but instead you gave me young boys to help imagine. They actually saw themselves as spies. It didn't bother them that they were carrying women's purses or surgery uniforms. To them this was spy equipment and they went off to play in the pretend world of spies.

It was a treat to transform some old dress up clothes into spy apparel. I had missed being with my grandchildren and I guess God wanted to give me some time with children hoping that someday soon I would have the opportunity I longed for to play with my own grandchildren.

My heart was satisfied as I played with the boys. And I think they wanted to do something extra special fun. In the end we all got what we needed.

In the imaginary world of "pretend"
God can show up dressed as a spy.
This spy, of course,
is gentle and kind,
a real friendly sort,
one who loves the whole world.
And those with special needs
will receive what they are looking for.
A heart's longing doesn't always show its need.
But no matter.
The great spy in the sky knows
and enters the picture unaware.
And joy erupts,
a sign of loving Presence.

Love, Andrea

Friday, September 22, 2006

My dearest God,

Bringing something to life that you know nothing about is quite a challenge! I asked Linda to make a video of my renewal leave. I supposed I would provide the pictures and explanations and she would do all the rest. Oh no! She told me it was my story, that no one could tell it but me.

I had labored with love to select all the photographs I wanted to use of my pilgrim journey. Carefully I pulled each one from their respective album (I have six) and gave them to my partner in this endeavor. She then created a storyboard with each image in place. I picked out several musical selections to add to the storyboard. She inserted the opening song right at the beginning. Then she burned a DVD. When I pushed the play button, I saw my story in its initial stage. I played it over and over again. There I was in a hot air balloon high above the Rio Grande Gorge. And holding a candle in the darkness of night at the candlelight pilgrimage in France. Then laying my hands on Akua, an infant African baby girl born on a Wednesday. My story is coming soon to the silver screen.

We have worked two long days adding special effects, putting in overlays and choosing transitions, not to mention all the work she has done alone. Identifying sites and lifting up memories has proved to be an exciting, but meaningful adventure. With just a few images left to work with and music to coordinate, I have to take a couple of planned shots, then prepare for the ending. It's a true work of art and the artist has taught me how to share my life story.

Technology is a great thing! In the near future I will have my video to help tell my personal story of God's presence in my life. It will be a joyous occasion to present my 10-12 minute video, but more than that it will be an honor and privilege to tell once again how God leads human beings on a sacred path with all its twists and turnings to a surprise ending.

When I stand back and think about it, I am filled with a feeling of mystery, how God can bestow such awe and wonder around days, weeks and months of one's own life. Yet, the greater mystery is how the storyline moves from a human story to God's story. My story simply points to God's own tale in human history.

I am always astounded how something so simple can become profound in its telling when God is present in it. What would seem to be a simplistic task is transformed in the making and God appears seemingly out of nowhere.

"Nothing yet,
nothing yet,
you ain't seen nothing yet."
The song goes.
It's true;
you ain't seen nothing yet.
An invitation to travel together,
that's what God offered me.
I put on my backpack
filled with hope and anticipation.
I took God's lead.
I followed in his footsteps,
those big prints so easy to see
and I saw the world
with spirit eyes.
And I breathed the air of my Savior.
My thousand gestures of gratitude
can never adequately convey
my thanks.
I can only pray that
the spirit rhythm of my heart
will beat exquisite love into the world.

Yours for always, Andrea

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Loving God,

Recently I had a blood pressure spike. No real reason that I knew of. It was just way up there. After calling the doctor I put on my meditation music. The musical notes began to make their way throughout the bedroom. The blending of sound and spirit brought solace to my soul. And then I became aware of the musical voice of God singing to me. A comforting peace filled the otherwise anxious room.

Do you really sing? To your children? Do you? Are you so incredibly near that we can hear the high and low notes of Spirit singing? Lullabies of compassion? Do you sing to your children?

I sat up from my bed. "Andrea, now you stop that worrying. Can't you hear that singing, that melodious sound of peace? It's the voice of God." I smiled, my anxiety dissolving with every word. Whose voice spoke to me? My own? God's? The Spirit? Is it important whose voice it was? Or do I rest in the knowledge that in the gray fog of doubt the Living One stands ready to part the fog, revealing his holy presence?

Saints of old report sightings of the Holy Presence. They speak of beauty indescribable and a peace that is sweeter than molasses. The dark night of the soul gives way to the light of dawn, a trust like no other.

Have I seen this Holy Presence? Oh yes! I walked into, with, beside, and behind this godly likeness. Just a year ago, in the hills and valleys, on the mountaintops, in monasteries, and crevices where saints lingered for days in prayer. On the streets, in the flicker of candlelight and the smiles of trusting broken people whose hands were held by a mysterious One. In the wine and bread and flowing waters. In the darkness and looking out from a hot air balloon. Alone and with others. Beneath a trillion stars, in smoky bars where I wrote my letters, in the heat and rain. Beside St. Francis, on my knees, I heard that melodic voice singing joy to me, eternity revealed to a lost child. Finding my way home.

Spirit love,
that's what it is,
spirit love.
No human can manufacture
this kind of love.
Cannot be replicated
or put in a bottle.
Blows in the wind.
Free.

Riding on the wings of angels, Andrea

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

My dear God,

Everywhere I turned today you were standing. I drove to Wishard Hospital to be with a member of my parish who was facing cancer surgery. As I walked into the small surgery holding room, her beautiful brown face smiled back at me. The same age as me but with life experiences in her homeland of Africa that I cannot begin to conceive, she may be fighting for her life from a disease that was diagnosed back in June.

I took her hand in mine. "Mami." I called her by the name I was called in Africa where I went to volunteer nearly a year ago. An expression of respect and affection I wanted to be more than her pastor in her current trial.

I asked lots of questions about her family. And she told me that due to fighting she had many family members still stuck in refugee camps in Liberia and Ghana. She had not only given birth to nine children, she had taken in her husband's six other children, raising them as her own. When we talked about the cancer, she spoke the words familiar to me when I was in Africa. "I trust in God."

When her daughter arrived a short time before they took her to surgery we greeted one another and prayed for this mother. Before they rolled her away the daughter reinforced her faith. "Trust in God."

The daughter and I spent several hours together since the surgery turned out to be longer than expected. We ate breakfast and I continued to witness the face of Jesus looking back at me as she spoke of her trust in the Almighty. Exhausted from working two jobs back to back to make ends meet, I pulled up a comfy lounge chair, put my raincoat over her and encouraged her to sleep. She dropped off within minutes.

I studied the face of faith, one who has seen death and destruction of civil war in Africa, one who watched rebels murder her uncle right next to her, who held her child as he lay dying without simple antibiotics in a refugee camp, one whose family was separated and had to leave her home and all her possessions behind. Yet, she still knows and claims faith in Christ, a child-like sweetness of trust in God who daily guides her in hope.

After the surgeon returned reporting on the surgery, I left for a doctor's appointment. It was a pretty day so I walked. When I sat down in the physician's office, I turned and saw a woman whom I had not seen from my church in a long time. We hugged and talked before I was called in. Feeling badly because she had not been to worship, the older woman assured me, "I pray every day. I'm just so tired by the weekend." "Isn't it wonderful that God loves us no matter what we are doing!" I told her. She smiled. When I returned to the waiting room, she was gone but the faded image of her beaming face lingered.

As I left the hospital and walked down the walkway, a car passed by me. The driver looked familiar. I turned around to view the license plate from northern Indiana. Convinced it was a friend, a member of a former church whom I had not seen in years, I turned around to walk back. At that moment his wife exited from the hospital and I shouted her name, not wanting them to drive off without a greeting. When I got up to the car, she kissed and hugged me so happy to see me. Because we were holding up five cars, I suggested we drive to my car where we could talk for 15 minutes before they had to leave to get back to waiting grandchildren.

In order to say everything we wanted to say in a short time, I named off their children and siblings. I asked about their health and then the church where I had served. They reported. Then I shared mine. In 15 minutes I crawled out the car as they drove away, smiling.

Both their children are in trouble. One continues to be abused by her husband. Although they are in their 60's they have guardianship of their three grandchildren. Their son is troubled, can't keep a job, sees nothing positive in life. The wife's sister just lost her husband to cancer and her older son recently committed suicide. Her younger son was just returned back to prison. With all this sorrow and grief one could expect dour faces and even more sour looks at life. But not this couple. "Isn't God good?" She told me. "He never disappoints us. He is always with us in every situation!" Their faith is strong. Yes, they are very concerned about their family but they trust God to help.

As I drove to my office late in the afternoon I reflected upon the faces of trust and faith, the many ways I saw God gazing back at me. I remembered all the smiles throughout the day of perfect strangers who gave me directions or helped me. Just like when I called my doctor's office to ask if I could come late because I was with a family at the hospital, she guaranteed me that I would be seen and that she would pray for the family. Another stranger praying for an unknown person.

I saw the face of God
looking back at me today,
black, brown, white and yellow.
And it was beautiful.

Love always, Andrea

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Dearest God,

In the quiet darkness I walked down the steps to my basement early this morning. Filled with a soul’s joy I turned on the computer, ready to write, desirous of sharing together. When I typed in the username and password, I couldn’t pull up my blog. I tried several times to no avail. I was tempted to be very upset. After all I looked forward to this time alone. But there was a gentle stirring in my heart, telling me to remain calm, trusting.

Connecting with God is not about whether you can make your blog work or get the exact answer to the prayer you want; it is about taking a step toward God and anticipating God’s presence. I may not always see God or hear God’s voice; but I know within the depths of my being that God is present. How do I know? I always return to Jesus’ final words recorded in Matthew, "Lo, I am with you always even to the end of the age." But what if? What if these words were simply the words of a romantic, a writer who longed for an eternal connection? What if Jesus didn’t really say these exact words? Does this mean that God is not present at all times?

What makes sense here? I believe that God at creation took the stuff that became human then breathed life into God’s own creation. The connection at creation was so powerful that God could not abandon that which God had created. This makes sense to me, great sense.

Perhaps I am a romantic, believing that a Creator always wants to connect with its created creature. Am I just solely conceptualizing a human idea, then projecting it onto God? Do I believe a mother always loves her child no matter what; therefore, I believe God always loves God’s own child? The difference is that a human being does not always have the capacity to love endlessly. Situations, circumstances, or conditions can alter that love. But God is not like a human being. Human beings are to take on the likeness of God, not the other way around.

When I play God, expecting my way, directing people and things, I can step beyond my bounds. I try to manage all that is around me. I can misuse others or misdirect people working toward a human goal that may not necessarily be the will of God. The truth is I can only manage the world around me in human terms. I can only go so far. Human power will only manifest itself to a particular end. Divine power, on the other hand, can go much further, do more, create more, bring more to any situation.

My little life annoyances can indeed severe my "connection" with God for a time. But only because I allow my frustration to get in the way of the natural connection that happens moment by moment. I get sidetracked because I can’t make God happen. Thank God I can’t. I don’t want to manufacture God in my own image, like a plastic replica of Jesus. I want the natural flow of spirit love to flow in and out of me as I trust in the Compassionate God of the cosmos.

I needed this morning’s small irritation to remind me who is ultimately in charge. God knows my heart because surely God has placed within me the desire for closeness, a yearning not for spiritual power although that will come but rather a spiritual intimacy that drinks deep from the well of Living Water.

I cannot keep you in the same place
as I would a ceramic angel on a shelf.
I cannot return to yesterday’s vision of God.
Because today is a new day.
And I am not the same as I was yesterday.
I have lived 24 hours
and what has happened to me
during that time
has changed me if ever so slightly.
My time with God is ever changing.
My circumstances vary,
my heart swerves,
my outlook and perspective is different.
I am affected by events
where people destroy or harm one another.
I am uniquely designed
to be moved
by what I see
or hear
or experience.
I am supposed to evolve.
I am made to change.
My challenges are meant to adjust my atoms,
my established ways of thinking or being.
My malleability keeps me
like warm clay in God's hands.
I can be shaped and reshaped
by the Great Master
again and again and again.

I learned a lesson today, Andrea

Monday, September 18, 2006

Dearest God,

Today is my first day. I chose the lighthouse template because I am always looking for the light in the fog of daily living. As I write daily my personal letters to God, I ask for the light to shine, guiding me to the One I seek. I write to God alone as if no one else is present; yet, the light that brightens my own life I pray will be light to someone else. I learned a long time ago that Light is never to be possessed; rather the light that meets me is designed to be scattered as light to the world.

May I discover your Holy Light today,
gracious God.
May I, in turn,
be the lightbearer
you have called me to be.
I am not the only one,
just one among many,
but I am one.

Forever yours, Andrea