Friday, October 27, 2006

Dearest God,

I awakened this morning with so much on my mind. I got up, did a few chores, showered, put on my clothes and left before sunrise. Driving along 1000N I went over in my mind everything I needed to do today. Then I got in a traffic jam. A construction zone, I was blocked in, I couldn't move. I knew I would be late for the mandatory health screening. Oh well, I told myself, there was nothing I could do, except get stressed and I did.

I arrived about ten minutes late and walked the maze through the church to find the room where professionals waited to take my blood pressure, measure my height, weight, and body fat, then do a blood sugar and some other tests. The young man who assisted me was very nice. He talked, while things ran through my head.

When the results came in, he spent a long time with me. Because I had already established a health plan for myself in cooperation with my doctor, he gave me brochures on all sorts of things like a low sodium diet, cholesterol, heart disease, and exercise. I must have picked up 12 pamplets describing healthy habits. When I left the room, I returned to my many concerns.

I had only taken a few steps, really just turned a couple corners, when a brightly colored stained glass wall caught my eye. I stopped, intrigued, drawn into this magnificent display of "creation."
I stood for several minutes, allowing the symbols to speak beyond my worries and anxieties.

The Spirit lifted out those spiritual figures that began to communicate with me, the dancing woman, the mother holding her child, the deer drinking in the stream, the multi-color cross leaning sideways toward the light.

But it was the central figure that caught my eye. Representing the light, the white lines moving in all directions spoke something else to me. I could see Lazarus, the Biblical man who had died before Jesus could reach him. Bound up in grave clothes, Jesus had ordered him to rise although he had been dead for three days. I could see the white strips of cloth coming apart, opening up, every fiber unwrapping the man, freeing him from his death sentence. They were flying off in every direction, light flowing through, true freedom, a second chance, life. I could have stayed a long time, reveling in the beauty of a life made new. But then my concerns emerged once again and I turned to leave.

Just before I left the church, I passed a room where a cloth labyrinth lay on the floor. I stopped in my tracks. Was God speaking powerfully to me this morning? Did God have some words for me in the early hours of the day? Did God want to stop me long enough to listen? I walked into the room, put down my purse and coat and walked to the entrance. I stood a few moments, thinking of my assistant waiting for me at the church, the calls I needed to make, the work I had to do.

A peace came over me as I stepped into the maze leading to a holy center. I walked, pacing myself, leaning in toward the spirit. Just before I stepped into the center, I paused, thinking about the meaning of standing with God, breathing the air of the Sacred. Drawing in a breath, I took the final steps. I prayed. Then I listened. Smiling, a peace holding me, I moved away. And my voice began to sing. "I love you, Lord, and I lift my voice. To worship you, O my soul rejoice. Take joy, my King, in what I bring. May it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear." I lifted my voice to my Shepherd, the one who had called me out early in the morning. Giving me helpful hints to care for my body, mind, and spirit, speaking to the deeper parts of my being, giving me opportunity to join God in the walk of life. As I moved outward to depart, I paused to give thanks.

You catch me
by surprise sometimes,
Loving God.
You always have your eye on me.
I cannot escape your presence.
When I am harried,
worried or stressed,
you speak to me.
"My child,
my precious child,
I am here."
You get my attention
by inviting me
to pause with you,
to reflect
upon the sacredness of human life.
You remind me
that there is more to life
than that which I do.
It is who I am
and who I am with.

Love always, Andrea