Thursday, January 31, 2008

Dear God,

Are you moved by our prayers? Do our prayers actually change your mind? Are you challenged by our prayerful pleas?

At mass on Wednesday the priest prayed, "Oh Lord, do not let our sin frustrate your will for us." Does our sin frustrate you? Or do you know us so well that you expect little from us? What is the power of our sin?

I let this line of the prayer stay with me. Do I wish to pray the same prayer? Do I hope and pray that my sin alone will not frustrate you to the point of walking away? And what about corporate sin? What is the power of corporate sin? And how are you impacted by such a great amount of sin?

I look at my life. I think of the darkness I have created by the sin in my own life. I recognize that my sin does have power to damage, to destroy. My self-made sin creates a kind of darkness around me, around others. "Do not let my sin frustrate..." Does grace wipe out the sin, restoring light to dark places? Does my work toward goodness, righteousness reap greater light, spreading it wide?

I couldn't let go of the priest's statement. It is a challenge to me.

Challenge the heart of me,
I pray, Oh Lord.
Wash my sin,
cleanse my soul.
Let not my darkness
spoil your light.
Let what is good in me
shine into my darkness.
Let not my sin
frustrate your will.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Dearest God,

I found myself in three worlds yesterday, worlds that pointed the way to a living presence. You took me there.

First, to a recording studio. I was reminded that you carefully choose who to use for your purposes. A most unlikely place where your words would be spoken, your promises sung, your love expressed. Yet, the face of the owner brought me to the realization that you chose Peter, an impulsive fisherman to be the most important disciple. You chose Saul, an obnoxious, rowdy persecutor to be your witness to grace. You chose Tim, an artist, because he is able to paint the picture, then bring the picture to life.

Second, to an upstairs apartment. A home where light and darkness battle for a soul of faith. I watched the calm peacefulness come to the lines in her face. The love for you in her heart wins every time.

Third, in the parking lot during a tornado. I left the apartment in a misting rain but by the time I got close to my car, the wind slammed me against the car as lightning struck. I got in the car and drove away around the curve when suddenly 80 mile an hour winds buffeted the car, vertical rain striking from two directions at once. The lights went out in the parking lot and I realized I was in danger. I couldn't see. I knew I had to drive away, to find shelter because the winds were blowing so hard that I could not have gotten out of the car. I could not have opened my door, nor walked to shelter. I had to find a safe place to drive into.

I called my husband and screamed into the phone, "Is there a tornado warning?" I kept asking him because I couldn't hear his answer, the wind was so loud. When I realized I was in peril, I called my friend to tell her to take shelter from tornadic weather. Then I drove in the blinding rain which was coming at me from every direction. I had never seen anything like it. I was frightened, wondering if I could make it home. As soon as I drove into my garage five minutes later, everything calmed down. Within minutes the wind was dropping snow.

On one hand, the three worlds seemed to clash, the chaos with the peace. On the other hand, you were just as certain in the car as in the recording studio and apartment. You were present in each world.

I find myself always in different places, geographically, psychologically, emotionally. Sometimes it is just in my mind as I listen to the plight of your people. Yet, the thread that always runs through is the thread of your presence. I bring it with me. If I forget, I find it in others.

Make me always
a pilgrim seeker,
searching for your presence.
May my eyes
always be looking for you,
my heart anticipating
your voice,
my spirit
open, expectant.
You are the God
of calm and chaos,
the God of rain and storm,
the God of hope and peace.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Dearest God,

Oh Lord, I am keenly aware of the cycle of life. One elderly woman told me yesterday that she is tired of carrying her sick, old body around. She's lonely, doesn't like eating alone, can't get around well by herself. Another woman's mother has told her daughter she is ready to go, but her daughter is working so hard to keep her here. Another one is tired, very tired.

It seems to me there are many cycles in a lifetime. Birthing times, not just the ones in our beginning, but times when we birth new ideas, new hopes and dreams, new visions, new faith. And there are dying times. Dying to old, unhealthy behaviors, bad attitudes, beliefs that keep us oppressed and worn down. Birthing and dying are so closely related. I think it's possible that birthing and dying are tied together. I die to something in order to birth something else.

I know all three of these women. I love each one of them. I know what they're talking about. Like the daughter that can't let go, I find myself holding on too. When the elderly woman was talking at lunch yesterday, nearly everyone at the table jumped on the bandwagon to keep her alive, to urge her to think different, to be happy. I watched her face. It's not what she wants. Were we insensitive to her needs, her desires, her wants? We don't live in her skin, how can we tell her what to do?

I'm aware of my own needs and the needs of the other women around the table. We're all over 60, and some are over 80. We're not comfortable saying goodbye to someone we love. Perhaps some are thinking of their own mortality and because they're frightened, they don't want to have to deal with someone else's.

I have a favorite song entitled, "Here Am I." At my going away party at my last church, the choir sang it for me, the soloist, our director of music. A professional soprano voice, I weep when I hear her sing. She knows its my favorite song. That's why she sang it. If she lives longer than I do, I want her to sing it one last time for me, even if she's old and has a scratchy throat.

There's a line in the song that goes something like this, "Living or dying, I still would be thine..." Perhaps that's the answer to the dilemma. If we are living daily in the hands of God, then we belong to God. We are not ultimately alone and neither are those who are transitioning themselves for another "land." We are connected together by the eternal cord of God; therefore, we have no reason for fear.

Just as I sing today my favorite song, I shall sing it for the other women, the daughter...

Loving God,
there are the seasons
of birthing and dying,
living and dying.
Why must we
be afraid?
Is it that we are afraid
of changing our life
or allowing it to change?
If we are clay
in the potter's hands,
then how can we remain
hard,
unpliable,
inflexible,
cold?
In your hands
we can be refashioned
with a beauty
we cannot now imagine.
In your hands
we can be shaped
without our warts and blemishes;
we can be moulded
into a person
so beautiful
filled with the marks
of your hands.
Who would not
want it?
And how can we
be an obstacle
to the retooling
by God?

Love, Andrea

Monday, January 28, 2008

Dear God,

How wonderful to make our love real, to put faith on the line, to be courageous in our acts of kindness. I watched the clip, "Shoeless Service", on television last night. I saw the blessing of the faces of my flock, a handbell ringer, children, a barefoot pastor swaying. And shoes, shoes and plenty of them, every one a blessing to bare feet somewhere in the world. I thought to myself, "This is as good as it gets."

What awesome joy comes our way as we live the spirit life. For we know the source of our strength and power. We know that courage builds character and character finds its source in you. We risk because we know its source is love, a river of love and joy that has no end.

How grateful I am to you for persons who see the spirit life, who dig into their souls uncovering their doubts, fears, and shortcomings, who then give them all to you. Persons who know that a life in you is greater than any other kind of life. There is nothing in the world more moving or inspiring than a life with you.

Oh Lord,
never let me
grab for a cheap substitute.
One that rusts and tarnishes,
turning ugly over time.
May I stand
in the brightness
of your radiance,
allowing my own self
to be filled with light
so that I too,
like the night stars,
will shine bright.
Shine in me, Lord,
so I may shine
and shine and shine
for the world.

Oh how I love you, Andrea

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Dearest God,

To you I owe all glory, thanksgiving and praise. For you, you alone are worthy of all my blessings to you.

So many blessings are coming my way. My daughter. My "newest" four grandchildren whom I am coming to know for the first time. My church. Specific people now witnessing the glory of God. How can it be that so much joy is erupting in so many places?

I could feel it when I entered church carrying boxes of shoes. I could see it in the handbell ringers, the director of music, the mission chair. I could sense it in the bathroom when I overheard two excited women talking about the day. And then there were the others who came bringing in more shoes.

The worship service was all about you. From beginning to end, you had orchestrated the whole thing. Your joy slipped into us and we smiled, sang, praised, prayed, listened, hoped, cried, rejoiced. You were ever so present; who could have missed it?

I felt that Spirit thing get inside my skin. The music, the African drum I carried back from Africa, its sounds transported me back to where I witnessed an agape love from Africans who truly worship. I looked down and saw my feet starting to dance. And I remembered those feet who praised on another continent so far away. I don't know that I made a decision to dance; I just danced the African way. I was so full of Spirit that it could only be expressed by the dance. I danced for you, unafraid, no inhibitions.

What joy is expressed when your people are filled with your Spirit. We could not contain ourselves. We were so ready to worship and praise.

That piece of your glory that is in me is like leaven making more joy. It cannot exist on its own. It works to do more, to express more, to share more. It worked to bring more joy to me, to my people. Oh how I love your glory at work in others. I can smile this little inward smile knowing that what I see is more of you.

You are the source
of my joy.
My heart overflows
with heavenly joy.
My spirit dances
with joy.
My soul,
so deep within me
sings joy
to every part
of my being.
My whole body
just wants to trust,
more and more.
My faith is working,
filling itself with joy,
your joy,
heavenly joy.
All I want to do
right now
is fill you
with blessings,
my Lord and God.
Maranatha!

Love, Andrea

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Dearest God,

I'm filling up with memories. Going through decades of pictures, I'm remembering my family history. My children, so small. Myself as a little girl. My mother, young and so pretty. My grandmother, sweet and gentle.

All kinds of stories are rolling out of me, stories that I had forgotten, or at least had moved backward into the inner recesses of my mind. Generations of family, five to be exact. I used to be at the bottom of the generations. But now I'm at the top. Two generations below me.

How did it all happen so quickly? We were all together, then they were gone. Vanished, departed from this earth. The responsibilities of the oldest generation have now fallen on my shoulders.

Perhaps that's why I write. I'm recording history daily, writing from the heart the scenes and sounds of what I see, hear, and think. Daily recordings of God, what you have done, what you are doing, glimpses of what you may do in the future. Like Luke, Mark, Matthew, John and Paul, I'm writing down a living testament of God. Wow!

Let the scenes
of your presence
unfold before me.
Roll away
the obstacles
to writing
your story.
Linger with me
as I tell one,
then another.
Be the voice
of the story.
Tell it your way.
Let it fall
on tender ears
fashioned to hear it.
Speak God,
and I will listen.

Love, Andrea

Friday, January 25, 2008

Dear God,

How can a shoe bring so many people together? Because the shoe is a symbol of your love.

I attended a college basketball game. Imagine, me, a non-sports fan hooting and hollering for the home team. I went barefoot. Although I rested my feet on a solid wood floor, I was mindful of the millions, hundreds of millions whose feet walk on dirt, glass, debris, slime, and I don't want to know what else. I wanted to be in solidarity with those without shoes.

We had come together to collect shoes, shoes to be taken to Africa, South America and parts of rural and inner city America. We wanted to help, felt compelled to help. I remembered those little feet I came to love in Africa. I remembered their faces. How could I say no to those who closed in on us in the rural village, children who just wanted to touch us as if we were some kind of gods? How little they understand about us. I wanted to return shoes to them.

When the announcement came that we had 110,000 pairs of shoes, I shouted, cheered. I realized then that the idea for shoes was yours. You had pricked the hearts of those who would be inspired to give. You made it happen at a ballgame. Who knows who was in the crowd that some day may make a difference somewhere else in the world?

Shoes, a symbol of your presence.

Shoes, you chose shoes
to give witness
to your love
for the world.
Who can measure
your love?
Who can begin
to fully describe
eternity's love?
Shoes for little ones,
big and small ones,
for mamas and daddys
for sister and brother.
Shoes
for feet washed
in the love of Jesus.
Shoes.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Dear God,

I am so aware of your great plan of service. Months ago you envisioned a plan to care for your little ones. Your children, rich in spirit, poor in resources. Your children, many forgotten. Who thinks of African children without food, shelter, shoes, someone to love them? You do.

I watched your plan unfold. A man in prayer for a song. A woman seeking her deepest creativity. A man who needed a new purpose. Just for starters. Another man praying for a job that would challenge him in the deep place of his soul. One who prayed for shoes. A pastor always praying for a project to glorify your name. A woman healing from the past, wanting to reach out deeper into the neighborhood.

A random date for a concert. A circling of songwriters. A Mission Committee with some money and a purpose. A school official with a soft heart.

A teenage prayer. Singing from the heart. Free pizza and pop. Three hands up. Need for change, maybe transformation. A car full of shoes.

Preaching bare foot. Excited people. More shoes.

Your plan. Our opportunity for service. Drawn in to an intimate circle. A vision of faith working itself out in love.

Oh, Glorious One,
we've been drawn in,
into a circle,
a circle of faith.
Standing by Jesus
standing right next to us.
Shoes on sale,
Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Sears,
Payless.
Shoes promised,
Converse, Nine West,
Shoe Carnival.
Drawn in to the circle,
the circle of faith.
Taking care of your little ones.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Dearest God,

Early this morning I stood by the window looking out onto the cold, snowy landscape. The moon shone bright, creating shadows, and the snow sparkled, giving an aura of mystery and beauty. As I heard the soft breathing of my husband still asleep in bed, I thought of the quiet beauty of the moment. Could there be anything more lovely than beauty revealed in nature and in my own bedroom?

My mind reflected on earlier days, of how the Spirit is sweeping in my own family. Just yesterday I got an e-mail from my daughter who returned home after 13 years. We talked, no, we shared. We shared, my daughter and I shared, the Spirit deeper within us than the bitterness that lingered for so long.

I see the faces of your Spirit all around me. I am encircled by this gracious Spirit whose joy is full to overflowing.

Sweep across
the landscape
of my soul,
Powerful and Everloving God;
let your Spirit
daily pervade
my life.
I wish only
to breathe the air
of your Spirit,
to live your
spirit life,
to fulfill your dreams
inside me.
Sweep across
the landscape
of my soul,
Gracious God,
rest easy
within me.

Love always, Andrea

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Dear God,

I walked upstairs to ask a question and I found the Spirit singing. I walked down the hall and I found the Spirit carrying in foodstuffs from a meal she had prepared for the homeless. I walked into my study and found the Spirit sharing faith.

There was a day when the halls were dark with grief and sorrow. The walls were lined with bitterness, anger and resentment. The light was hidden away.

But like Pentecost the Spirit swept into the church one day. It traveled like the ominous cloud over Israel that killed the first born in the Old Testament. Only this Spirit traveled into every corner, crack and crevice, bringing new life. It remains today.

There is a joy, an enthusiasm, a faith and belief in the church. There is an aura of possibility. "I believe we can get 1,000 pairs of shoes!" The woman said as we talked about collecting new shoes for impoverished children. A smile broke across my face and I walked straight to her, threw my arms around her, and said, "Oh Jean, I am so proud of you. I remember when you would have said 250."

There is a trust, like never before, a spirit of generosity toward one another. There is a happiness generated from the inside out and a hope for even greater things to come. There is a genuineness of love shared between peoples.

This is your church alive with your Spirit!

Holy of holies,
we know this Spirit.
You have captured
our hearts
at last.
You have breathed
new life
into us.
You have spoken faith
and we have
grabbed hold.
We are your babies
in Christ,
your little ones,
learning to walk
and talk.
You have found us
hidden away
and you have
brought us out
of hiding.
We're out
in the open
singing, helping, sharing.
We are your church.

Love, Andrea

Monday, January 21, 2008

Dear God,

Last night I drew an angel card (or rather the angel picked me). Balance. Oh my goodness, how many years has it taken me to balance my life. I tend to hang heavy on one side or the other.

A balanced life is one where God holds both sides. Family, work, spirituality, health. I have longed for a life where everything is included in my life, in equal parts. I tend to be a workaholic, busy every moment but the last few years have taught me a new way.

Time with grandchildren buoys my playfulness, laughing at myself, dancing little jigs, making up funny stories, sleeping on the floor, singing silly opera. Time in silence keeps my spirit awake, fresh, my spirit eyes roving for the sacred Presence, breathing spirit air that lifts my heart, quickens my spirit. Time in ministry gives me the opportunity to give away, to give back, to respond to everything I've been given. Time well spent (most days).

Balance. When I am balanced, life is easier, more well rounded, blessed. It's when I'm hanging over the precipice that life goes out of whack. Balance, it's good because I am aware that you're holding both sides.

Oh Lord,
to be held,
every part of me
in your hands,
is to live daily
a life in heaven.
No bitter roots
can form here.
No ugly words
can form.
No fighting
for equal time.
Balance,
a full life
with you.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Dear God,

Something is happening inside me every time I preach. I feel a new spirit, a strong spirit. I feel like a new preacher with an urgent message. And when I look out over my flock, I feel somethin' happenin'.

I feel the foundation shaking, the foundation of status quo. I feel the spirit cracking the old concrete, like when spring warmth cracks the ice at the bottom of the earth. I feel things stirring. I feel the birth pangs of the spirit.

I don't know how it's all going to shake out. Don't know what lay ahead. Don't know when. Just know you're walking among us, sprinklin' enthusiasm.

I'm trustin', fallin' backward into your arms, knowing you have a plan, a destiny for this community. I'm willin' to follow your lead, to be a spirit pioneer to take us into the future, always listenin' for your command.

I'm lookin' around,
waiting, watching
for the spirit to break open.
I hear her sounds,
listenin' for the call.
I see her face,
know her joy.
I'm lookin' around
waiting, watching
for the spirit to break open.

Loving you, Andrea

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Dearest God,

Worn out from a night of Epiphany partying, I remained in my pj's for a quiet rest. Couldn't even clean up a dish, straighten up or pick up. I was down for the count.

Because snow lay on the ground, I allowed my mind to wander to former days. So I watched my last Christmas movie, White Christmas. Although I know this movie from the inside out, I love watching it, allowing it power to spark my emotions.

As I watched Bing, Rosemary, Danny, and Vera play their parts, I remembered that they have all been dead for a long time. But each time I watch my favorite movie, they come to life again. Bing croons, Vera dances, Danny teases, and Rosemary smiles. My heart strings are pulled for so many reasons at the end when couples are reconciled, the general is honored, snow falls.

During the movie I thought about my mother. She loved this movie too. Maybe that's when I started watching it as a little girl in the 50's. I liked thinking of Mom on a cold snowy day.

But more than any of this, I was struck by the fact that this movie continues to charm its audience long after all the characters are gone. It's timeless. And I wondered how all the characters' children feel when they watch movies where their parents were players.

And that's when I thought of you. How you make things happen. How what is for now can be 50 years from now. You allow us time and reflection of things so long ago. Memories made can feed the soul forever. Happy ones become happier. Sad ones can propel us to change our lives, be transformed, shine light where only darkness reigned. Our lives can be changing all the time or remain warm and fulfilling because your spirit deems it possible. The unimaginable becomes a reality. Lives are restored and renewed and sometimes even made new. And all because you make it possible.

Wondrous, really,
life is wondrous.
Every day,
a chance
for renewal.
You direct our lives
toward healing and growth.
You give us faith,
even the size
of a mustard seed.
Then you allow it
to grow
and grow some more.
Until one day
without realizing it
it is a great tree.
And so it is with life.
Every day growing closer
with you and others.
Wondrous, really.

Love, Andrea

Friday, January 18, 2008

Dear God,

I looked around the small sitting room where we were all scrunched together. Candles burning, the Christmas tree lights still shining brightly, the nativity scenes quietly making known the greatest gift to humanity, the leavings of a gourmet dinner. These were my friends.

Years ago we used to just talk about anything after dinner, work, family, politics, news whatever. But this year like last, I wanted to share substance, the reason for our being together, the work we do, the love we share.

A mountain experience renewing a life, in some ways bringing her back from the dead, a daughter miraculously saved through prayer, an early morning prayer to God bringing an early epiphany, songs written from the heart by the spirit. And not only this, I knew many of the unspoken stories, a life healing catching a new name, one who is being drawn closer and closer to the cross, yet another who trusts in every dying day. Yes, the substance of the divine, the sacred happenings.

As I looked around the circle, how much I witnessed the radiant glow of Christ. His face, his eyes, his heart and hands. His love was spoken, shared, sung. Jesus sat among us.

You're no stranger here.
You make your home
here and everywhere.
You come among us,
whispering our name.
You reveal the secrets
of the universe.
The meaning of love.
The joy of living.
You're no stranger here.
You make your home
here and everywhere.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, January 17, 2008

My dearest God,

I watch with great joy at the ways your children delight in your spirit. One does not always know the presence of God, until a door opens, a light is turned on, a voice speaks. The wonder, the awe sparks like a new star being born.

I see it in their faces, in their voices, in the slight pause in their speaking. Can this be? Is this true? Courage, risk taking, following your leading, strength, hope, comfort, joy and peace. I see it all. The spirit has come after all and we are aware, fully aware.

When a fire starts to burn, a true fire of the spirit, others bring their log, throw it into the fire, join the celebration. New life is born, a new spirit is birthed, a new church rises up out of ashes.

I stand back, watch, observe others standing at the wood pile. Is there one with my name on it? Yes. Humility, a humbleness of spirit rushes over us as we are grasped by the wonder that even I am included in this wonder. Slowly, gently moving toward the fire, I realize it has always been true. I had missed it for a long time, didn't really know it was real, authentic. But now, now...forever changed.

I watch the enthusiasm take root, spilling out onto others. Delight, an internal joy, begins to well up and floods the soul. It's contagious, more and more until there's so much that we say stop, I can't take it all in.

My own hearts floods with this joy as I watch my own beloved community of faith burn with your fire. You have come and we have joined you in keeping the fire burning.

Glorious One,
burn within us,
let the fire
of your spirit,
burn within us.
No longer willing
to stand alone, apart,
we join in.
Let the fire
of your spirit,
burn within us.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Dear God,

Sometimes riding a wave can be exhausting. One of the things I love to do is ride the ocean waves on my raft. Whether in Florida or Maine, I love to catch the wave and ride it "home", all the way to shore. Yelling, "wheeeee" is one way I can release my excitement and enthusiasm. Now I know a wave in Florida and Maine is nothing like the gigantic waves of Hawaii but I'm not crazy here. It doesn't really make a difference how high the waves are, just that I'm willing to catch it, let it take me, then ride it all the way.

I've spent hours riding waves and all of a sudden found myself so tired I could hardly walk the steps back to my beach towel and umbrella. But once I fell down and stretched out, it felt so good to tell the story, to relive the joy, to rest.

I've been on a wave recently, a spiritual wave. In fact I felt it building, knew it was time to climb on board. I knew the ride could be a great one, a long one in fact, not just a short stint. I'm riding high. I'm not sure I've yet reached the pinnacle.

The beautiful thing, the wondrous thing is that I'm not riding it alone. This time there are numbers of people who're riding beside me. And we're all yelling "wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." We know you are the source of power beneath the wave. We know the ride is your idea and that you will determine how long and how far we will go. And we will all drag our weary bodies to the towel remembering, sharing, celebrating.

A life with you is like no other. Catching a wave of the spirit is like life's greatest thing. It's not about manufacturing something, don't have to do it. In fact anything else is but a cheap substitute. Knowing I'm on the wave with you is my life's greatest joy. Sharing it with others is a WOW experience.

My life's goal is to live in that spirit cycle, to be open and aware to the waves, to invite others to join in, to ride with a spirit heart so blessed for the invitation, then take the short journey to rest, recuperate, and retell the story to others whose interest we might pique. Life is all about listening to you. How will I ever know a wave is building? How will I ever know where, when and how? How will I ever invite others for the ride? How will I ever know?

The story I tell is yours, not mine. I'm just the messenger. The wave is yours, not mine. In fact I'm even renting the towel and umbrella.

Yesterday I went to the bishop's office to talk with the director of communications about an event where we can put shoes on kids without them. I had done my preparation, had all my papers in place. I knew I would only have a few minutes to sell the idea. I was thinking about the good idea. Suddenly I realized no one could take credit for the idea. The message was clearly yours. We are just following through. I was just the messenger carrying the idea to someone else whose interest in you would allow him to listen. What a wave, I thought. Everyone involved is part of your idea. We're just following through, riding, crying out, "wheeee."

We're on a ride,
a ride of a lifetime.
We're riding on spirit time.
Liftin' higher and higher.
Doin' a balancing act,
keeping on the wave,
feelin' the power,
spirit power.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Dearest God,

What is the deepest human motion? The deepest connection any human can have? Is it with one's own self, another human, or is it with you?

As I read of late the grisly tragedies of abuse and murder, I wonder if such persons have not yet moved into the deepest part of their soul, finding a kindly God to lead them? Is the entrance to the door of life blocked? What is it that hinders the soul from falling into divine love?

My heart sorrows as I think of murdered children, parents who believe they have the right to snuff out the lives of precious beating hearts. I cannot take it all in.

It seems that crimes in America are becoming more heinous, more bizarre. I think of the driving force that leads person to do the unthinkable, the inconceivable. What base instinct tells someone to take the life of another? It is all so troubling.

When a professor once asked what faith boils down to, a simple statement without all the liturgy and doctrine that come together in faith, I answered, "love." For me it is love. Your love is the deepest emotion, a pool of diving caring, one that can flood any human heart. Such love can heal any heart, broken by God only knows what.

I always come back to that statement. Faith is all about love, divine love, love that can hold any person, any where in any situation. Yes, even the most ungodly. I don't know all the ins and the outs. Only you, Divine Creator, know how you have made us.

May my own life
be ever more
a display of your love.
May my being
inspire another
to drop back
into the pool
of divine agape love.
May my service
make your love
more real.

Love, Andrea

Monday, January 14, 2008

Dear God,

I love the joy of an unknown day, a day not yet lived, a day fresh, with a new beginning open to the waiting, willing soul. Each morning as I awaken I find a new level of trust to be grasped, a new level of love to be lived, a new level of faith to sharpen, refine, and deepen. A new day, a new beginning.

As I enjoy the season of winter, each snowflake calls out to me, a unique creation joining all others in covering the ground, the trees and skies. I love how they form and fall. I love the accumulation that spreads across the landscape. I love how the snow hugs the earth, cleansing the soil. I love the beauty, the wondrous beauty that is all around me.

This morning I sat up in bed, peeking out the window, checking. Indeed snow had come during the night. I love the surprise of it all. Like a child I carry a childish glee within me. How fun and wondrous.

I am looking into the future, beyond the snowflakes and season. And I see the wondrous beauty of God. I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into your arms. My joy overflows, spills out. Sometimes it is all I want to talk about.

And so, my dearest God, today is yours. Do with it what you will. Be in me any way you want to be. Speak the words of heaven and I will listen. Let your light shine.

Let your mystery unravel,
your plan unfold.
Let this day
be a dedication
to God.
My love in its fullness
is yours today.
May I live this day
in accordance
with your will.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Dearest God,

I feel your spirit pulsating through my veins. My vision is clear, not cloudy. The recent experiences of the spirit have given me a new ability to risk, to live uncluttered in the spirit. I am witnessing daily many people caught up in a wave of spirit energy, joy and power. It is you.

My prayers are being answered. My dreams fulfilled. My hopes birthed into realities. My desire to share the spirit, in tangible, concrete ways is coming to pass. A new life has come to Bethel. The vision is being carried by many. Not my vision, but yours.

I love to read the story of Simeon and Anna, two persons who were utterly devoted to you, two who spent their lives hoping and praying to see the living God appear. Their lives were filled with joy as Mary and Joseph brought their son, your son to the temple. And I love, love the words of a faithful Simeon when he says, "Lord, you have kept your promise. You may let your servant go in peace." He was ready to pass into eternity because the promise had been fulfilled. His eyes had witnessed the salvation of the Lord.

I recently said to a close friend that my work is nearly finished. I have done what I came to do. I have fulfilled the dream of God to reveal the power and joy of spirit life to Bethel. There are enough people now who know, who have stretched out their spirit hand to take hold of yours. They will walk with each other in faith in new ways.

Lives transformed by your living spirit are doing great things. They will do more. They will be known as a mission church, a church who cares deeply because they recognize how much you care for them.

Like Simeon I can say, "You have kept your promise. Let your servant depart in peace." I am not ready to leave; I have much more to offer. But my offerings will be different. They will help build a greater foundation. Spiritual exercises designed to strengthen a spirit heart, opportunities to explore the world of spirit life, and experiences involving body, mind and spirit will tax and develop the whole being in relationship to you. I will cheer for you. I will walk beside you. I will equip and empower. I will do everything you desire in the next months.

Like Moses I will not see every fruit. I only desire to see the bud, not even the blossom to know you are present, walking among us. I will not travel to the promised land; it is not my destiny. But the vision of it is unfolding just now and it is enough.

I do not liken my life to Simeon, Anna, and Moses. How could I? But I do know their God. I do know that love. I do know that faith. I do know that faithfulness, yours. I am a simple servant. My only servant task is to carry the flame of your light to others. I have done that. I will do it, I pray, for the rest of my life, however, long or short it may be.

The days, weeks, months and years ahead are yours, fulfill them in me as you desire. For you are the God of my faith, the God I love, the God I serve.

You have kept your promise
from the beginning
of time.
I have witnessed your coming.
I remember the day
the spirit wind
blew through the doors and windows
of your church,
ridding us once and for all
of the darkness
among us.
In spirit hands
you took our faith,
cleansed it,
empowered it.
You made our love real.
You spoke spirit words
to us;
your spirit came to life.
We are not our own,
but yours.
We have entered this world
as servants,
as willing children
of God,
destined to share our spirit lives
with the world.
May my life
always be a symbol
of your light burning.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Dear God,

I've always been hesitant, holding back. Just a bit afraid. What if? I've never opened the door wide open for others. Oh yes, wide enough, wide enough to pass through and catch a glimpse of the great spirit beyond. Wide enough for an experience with you. But all the way? Not yet.

I ask myself what I am afraid of. Failure? Foolishness? Rejection? Mockery? I think I have too much of my own self in the way. Maybe too much invested. Maybe too much at stake. Maybe I'm afraid I'll frighten people. Maybe something will happen.

What if I swung the door wide open? What if people grasped for what they saw, then allowed the bonding chains to be broken? What if people were truly liberated, enabled to take hold of a new life? What if persons decided to grow in a new way? What if people fulfilled your vision for their lives, their destiny? What if?

What if I didn't hold back but gave it all to you for your purposes? What if I realized I really didn't have the right to hold back, but instead needed to live the role of liberator, liberator of spirit? What if?

Oh God,
these are the days,
the days of hope,
the days of power,
spirit power
unleashed.
Help me lean,
lean in to you,
lean in to your plan,
lean in to liberation.

Love, Andrea

Friday, January 11, 2008

Dear God,

When you are powerfully present, a room becomes a palace, a voice the sound of an angel, a spirit soars like an eagle. In this environment anything can happen.

One of the most important questions ever addressed was, "Can any good come out of Nazareth?" Of course, you knew the answer to that question. Jesus is the good that came out of Nazareth.

In a time of conflict someone once asked, Can any good come out of Bethel?" The question has been affirmatively answered many times since then, but perhaps no more than yesterday. There was one, then two, then three. They wandered together, lead by a spirit voice. A prayer answered. A friend appeared. A song was birthed. A new beginning times three.

Yesterday was to be another rehearsal of All Day Long. They would sing for three hours, then go home. But today a miracle happened. The wind of your spirit blew into the room and lingered for a long time.

Three voices became one. One voice. One message. Each honoring the voice of their neighbor, inviting them to join their own voice, knowing their voice could not give what three makes one could. Giving and taking. Blending. One voice, the voice of God.

The moment the music began I knew what was happening, could feel the movement. I know when the spirit starts stirring. I recognize the signs, the sounds. It stirred yesterday and kept stirring.

There was a birth, a birth took place in the room. Just as a baby can no longer be put back into their mother's womb, no longer can three be three but one. They entered a door with a sign displayed, "No Return This Way." Something powerful happened.

I know a call to ministry when I hear it. I know a birthing when I see it. I know when lives are changed. I know when you are inviting a new thing to take place. I know it. I watched it unfold today.

The spirit
is stirring,
can no longer
stop it.
It's here
to stay.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Dear God,

I have a deep down peace, a peace that holds the soul at rest. In the changing seasons of my life, in light and darkness, fear and faith, I have a deep down peace.

It was not always so. I look back, reflecting upon the dark places, the lonely places, the lost places, times when I felt forgotten, rejected, discarded. All the times when I wandered, stumbling, but always, always finding a tiny crack of light that lead me to a new level of faith.

I remember when peace was a far distant cry. I could not hear, see, taste or smell it, could not imagine it possible, felt lost from its hope. But I longed for it, cried out into its possibility.

When I fell backward into the seedbed of trust, peace found me. My heart slowed its pace, my hunger returned, my mind cleared, my soul took a breath, my being called out your praise.

Peace is in my blood although the world's woes are all around me. I trust in you.

I got a deep down peace,
a deep down peace.
My weary soul
wretching life's pain,
has found a deep down peace.
My soul rises up,
and takes a breath,
a breath of deep down peace.
I'm walking in peace,
my Savior at my side,
I have a deep down peace.
No longer lookin' for trouble,
I have a deep down peace.
No longer in pain,
I got a deep down peace,
a deep down peace.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Dear God,

My day began in your arms. In the quiet solitude of my home I felt your deep presence. I had a sense of your grace as I wrote, as I walked through my home.

When I drove out my driveway, I turned on Winter Solstice, a CD that draws my attention like a surprise hoarfrost on a foggy morning. Its music stepped inside me and I felt myself light as a feather. I felt that gentle rocking motion like a mother rocking her baby.

As I pulled up to the monastery, I paused in my car, listening to the music, looking up at the stars. I turned and was drawn to the monastery building, the round turrets, the stone archways and heavy wooden doors. Every Wednesday I drive to this home for God. I felt as if I had entered heaven and found myself delighted in your presence.

Walking up the stone steps, I looked around and felt joy in my soul. Twenty years. Twenty years visiting you here. Twenty years seeing the smile of your face, hearing your voice direct my spirit in our sitting room, feeding me spiritual food.

I have cried bitterly here, laid my wounds completely open. I have uttered the words of my sin. I have sought respite and refuge here. I brought my cancer here, the cancer in my breast and the cancers in my life. I let the sisters each pray over me. I have sat in the circle of love that poured over me, anointing my head, hands and heart. I have helped plant a tree and shovel in dirt at the burial site of dear Sister Jeanne Marie. I have sauntered through the halls, upstairs and down, pausing to look, listen and pray at the statue of Mary and Jesus. I have visited the tiny cemetery containing the ashes of all the deceased sisters. I have retreated here for several days. I have found you here each time in worship, prayer, meditation, in the haunting silence and the dance. I have lead a novena for Keri Tekiwitha. I have laughed, rejoiced, praised, given thanks. I have hugged, given peace, and celebrated the Eucharist here. I have sat at table and eaten with the sisters. I finished a book here, Remember. I have roamed the grounds, touched the flowers, spoken softly to the universe. I've visited you here every Wednesday for twenty years.

As I entered the monastery and heard the big door slam behind me, I whispered over and over, "I am blessed. I am blessed. I am blessed." When I walked into the hospitality room, it was softly lighted. The candle was burning on our altar. Cindy was smiling. We were ready to begin again.

Blessing finds its way
to me.
The stars,
the monastery,
the sisters,
my brother and sister in faith,
candles burning,
holy food waiting,
home where love abounds.
Blessing.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Dearest God,

I began writing my next book today. A collection of Christmas stories that have come from our family. Seventy five years of Christmas experience. A story of my father as a little boy on the farm. My mother trying her hand at sewing red robes for my siblings and me. The surprise mystery dove that appeared on my Christmas tree just days after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The Christmas without a dinner. The lost and found Jesus. The older I get the more I am compelled to write stories that will last forever.

I love the story of Christmas. The story you tell of a son in a manger touches me deeply every year. I wait all year to hear it again. And when the scripture is read, I hear it deep in my soul. The story lives inside me.

My stories of Christmas are generally very happy ones. They don't focus on the gifts received, but rather the connections that are made and nurtured. My mother's sacrificial gift when she bought three bride dolls and paid on them for a year when Santa brought them to my sisters and me. I imagine mom skimping and saving, going without just so we girls could have a very special gift. I remember being a Santa elf for my grandmother, purchasing all her gifts for her large family, using green stamps and yellow ones, a dollar here and a dollar there, making 13 tie quilts out of some left over gingham fabric for her grandchildren. How I loved connecting with my grandmother this way.

There are so many stories that I have lived and ones I have heard my dad tell. I want to compile the stories with pictures and publish them for my family. Long after I am gone those stories will be told and they will live within my grandchildren.

The writing of these stories is an act of love, the love that came at Christmas. My, how I witness the power of that love as I connect to people I love. It's that agape that drives me to write about Christmas.

Wondrous Star of Christmas,
my heart is alive with joy
as I reflect
upon the gift
of your agape love.
Every year
I marvel yet again
at your unselfish gift.
I want to hear the story.
I wait to hear it
one more time.
The stories I write
will all tell your story
of eternal love.
Oh, how I love you.

As always, Andrea

Monday, January 7, 2008

Dearest God,

There is a movement of spirit among us. A twinkle in the eye, life coming back inside a dead body, an excitement and enthusiasm pouring out of a man, a woman who can't stop writing, a lady stepping away from the darkness and beginning to sing for the first time in forty some odd years, there is a movement of spirit among us.

The sights and sounds of spirit life are telling signs of your presence, not just around us, but in us. What I had hoped to open the door to is now a wide opening. No door needed. It's been taken off its hinge. It now has a life of its own. The Spirit's a movin'; it's a movin' within us!

I'm walking in your footprints, stepping easily inside the markings of your coming. I'm following, don't know where they'll lead except I know they'll lead me to you. I'm walking in your footprints.

Someone said my preaching was like fire! Thought it came out of my joy at Christmas, the holy work of bringing my family back together, making my grandson well. Oh no, I said, it's about God holding me like a baby for 13 years. Life is good when you get what you asked for in prayer. But life is a mystical wonder when you know that you know you were held like a baby in the great arms of God. It's the years of heartbreak, broken pieces, shattered spirits, every piece being held by you. Picking up the pieces, holding them all 'til it's time to put them back together. Being held in your arms, rocking back and forth, back and forth, a sweet song of redemption lifting my heart.

I'm singin' a song
of redemption.
Can't quite get my head
around it.
I've been on the mountain
singin' the song of redemption.
All the broken pieces
of my life
brought back together.
I'm singin' a song
of redemption.

Loving you, Andrea

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Dear God,

I was surprised when the doorbell rang at 7:30 p.m. In my pajamas resting, watching a movie with my dinner on a tray before me, I heard my husband cry out, "Andrea, Andrea, come here. Oh my goodness. Andrea!" I threw on my robe and walked into the entryway. Six youth from our former church stood there along with their pastor. It wasn't Christmas or Easter. It wasn't April when they bring me a handful of daffodils remembering I survived cancer.

At first I didn't recognize any of the kids. Then Erin started beaming. My sweet Erin. I baptized her when she was a baby just days after being adopted by her parents. I hiked the Appalachian Trail with her parents. I counseled both of them at different times. Erin hugged me every Sunday morning and was very sad when I was appointed to another church.

And Nicholas. He was a quiet, reserved little boy. He too smiled. And we hugged.

When I asked the reason for their visit, I was told it was a night of random acts of kindness. They produced two cups of hot chocolate for us. They just came to visit because... It was so wonderful being loved for no reason. It was just a beautiful gift being remembered. The pastor made it clear they did not visit because we were shut in, not yet anyway.

Twenty minutes later as they walked out into the misty rain, Erin shouted back to me, "I love you." And I shouted to all of them. "Love you too."

They left love behind.
All of them.
The two we knew
and the four new ones.
They left love behind.
Yours.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Dearest God,

A new day dawns, fresh. A spirit stirs, awakening the soul. I hear your first cries to me. Pray. My voice automatically whispers your name...Dear God. My lips form the name of one of my children and the broken hearted in the world. My child is well. Other children are not.

The Carmelites have taught me to pray not only for my own but others at the same time. I pray for my child. I pray for all the world's children. I pray for my country. I pray for all nations. We are linked together by an eternal cord. I cannot pray for one without remembering the other; their names tug at my heart.

Even before the light claims the new day, my heart will have already sworn its love to you. I write as a way of honoring you, of proclaiming my devotion to the One who has breathed air into my lungs, who has gently called my heart to beat in rhythm, who has whispered secrets of the universe to me, who has opened the door to life. In this quiet moment, except for the sounds of the furnace kicking on, the hum of fluorescent bulbs, and the creaks in the house, I know you are here.

Walk into every room
of my heart, Lord.
Speak to my soul.
I am your willing servant.

Love, Andrea

Friday, January 4, 2008

Dearest God,

You open the door to change. You shift perspectives. You tell the mind this is good. You train the soul to rest in a new land, made new by the work you have done inside us. You say this is transformation. Home where God dwells.

In this changed land you bring new freedoms, strength and courage. You whisper new ways of doing things. You give us opportunities to try new things. You show us the way. It is You.

Today this was all true. The mountain was for me a place where God dwells. I was drawn to the mountain because I knew I would dwell with you. I wanted to reside with you in a new land. I whispered my secrets asking for help to guide me to make new decisions, to adopt new ideas, to live new ways. I was not disappointed.

I'm still carrying the mountain learnings in my heart. In a brief millisecond I see it all again, the road, the river, the chapel and monastery, the guesthouse, the Christ in the Desert. I feel the mountain air sweeping through the canyon biting at my nose and face. I hear the sounds of men's voices singing the psalms. I can taste the soup and bread. I can smell the air of faith.

I held all that today as I conducted a conversation with someone. In this new land I shared in a new way. I proposed an idea. I used my voice to help someone, to encourage another to test out a new land, create a new one in which to dwell, to thrive, to be wild in the spirit finding greater meaning and value.

I like this new land. I'm certainly freer, happier, more content. I'm more peaceful. I shall dwell here with you until a new time when the winds of the spirit blow calling me again.

The wonder of change
is that all things
appear different.
A wide berth
is made
for trying new things.
A new hope arises
giving birth to life.

Always yours, Andrea

Thursday, January 3, 2008

My dearest God,

How much hatred and bitterness can be in a heart who gathers people in a church and sets it on fire? How do you stand by and listen to the screams of those burning inside?

What makes a heart turn stone cold? What makes a human rise up against another, a brother or sister, a fellow human being?

How can one go to bed and sleep knowing they have destroyed a life?

I stand
knocking at your door,
asking questions.
How?
Why?

Andrea

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Dear God,

The purple pink hippopotamus with the fancy silver hat and jewelry still sits at the nativity scene. I had two creches, one made from olive wood that sits on top of the piano, and one fabric one that sits on the floor by the piano. The fabric one is intended to be accessible to children who want to learn the story of Jesus and his friends.

I had placed the fabric creche on the floor the first week in December. I knew my grandchildren would come and play with it. We could talk about it. But they hadn't been by. My family was busy with shopping, baking, wrapping and all.

It was December 26 when I was straightening things up from having 17 family members for dinner and gifts. Ribbons, paper, boxes, gifts were strewn all over the living room. When I cleaned up by the piano I found the nativity had been rearranged by one or more of the grandchildren. All the characters were there...Jesus, his mom and dad, the shepherds, wise men, and angel, and the animals, the donkey, the lamb and the camel. But there just below the angel, next to the wise man in front of the camel sat the hippo. In all her finery she smiled, just like she belonged there, bringing her own gifts to the Christ child.

At first I started to remove this puple pink wonder, then I stopped. Why not? Why should I remove this creature? Why not add a hippo to the creche? And for that matter, why not a spider, a giraffe, a dog, a human?

I remembered standing atop a mountain in Italy. We were just above the clouds. All I could see was the monastery and the clouds. It was a dreary gray day, but mystical and mysterious. I heard the animal sounds as I stood at the Church of the Nativity, the site of the first nativity ordered by St. Francis as a way to offer gratitude to you. Were these animals from some nearby farm? Or were they the animals that first were welcomed into a rudimentary stable where a light burned brightly in a manger?

Strange things happen in a creche at Christmas. Perhaps the hippo had her own story to tell.

All,
yes all
are welcome
in the stable,
your home.
Grateful.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

My dear God,

Spirit meets spirit when people come together in unexpected ways. I spent most of the day at the hospital. My lymphedema had flared, bringing with it a high level of pain. The first day of the new year I had to wait a little while. No problem. I had brought a Christmas novel.

When I finally was given an exam room, I turned off the television to have quiet. I was told I would have an ultrasound to make absolutely sure I did not have a blood clot. I had the same symptoms.

A little later a young woman came to retrieve me. She wheeled me into the room and started prepping me for the procedure. That was when she shared that she was called in just to care for me. I apologized and she told me not to worry. She had been in church late for a New Year's party. She is a "praise" dancer and she danced in the new year.

One thing lead to another as we shared our faith together. I told her I was a sacred dancer and we decided we both did the same thing, danced for you. She began to tell me her faith story. She had loved you, had been faithful to worship each Sunday. But when she went through a divorce, she was told she could no longer fellowship in their church. Her pastor had told her she could not receive communion. She was devastated so she left with her two boys. For two years she stayed away from church, feeling shunned, lost and forgotten by you. Her pastor had told her that you could not forgive her.

I listened to the technician tell me her story. I apologized for the short sighted pastor. I told her you forgive all of us, that she was not beyond the pail of grace. Then she said that you started speaking to her, telling her she needed to take her tithes someplace where you could use them for your purposes. You lead her to a church not far from ours. There she placed her heart once again in your church. She was welcomed, made to feel whole again, loved back into your kingdom. She smiled from ear to ear as she told about her ten year old boy stepping forward to give his life to you. She followed.

She did the procedure and found all my vessels in good working condition. I was released but not before she and I wished blessings of God on the new year.

I didn't intend to spend January 1 in a local hospital. But somehow I think your plan was fulfilled. I was blessed. She was healed.

Mercy, your mercy
overflows, spilling out,
dripping
onto your beloved children.
You want
every one
of us healed,
restored,
renewed,
made new.
Your power,
your power
is available,
accessible
to all.
You cry out
to us.
Children of the Beloved,
beloved children
of mine,
be healed,
be restored,
be renewed,
be made new
by me.
I can do it.
I will do it.

Love, Andrea

Monday, December 31, 2007

Dearest God,

I stood with you as we looked back together. Reflecting upon the year you gave me a view of my life, the trials and tribulations, the mistakes and disappointments, the victories and triumphs. You allowed me to gaze upon my own inner spirit. You showed me your handprints on my soul. Cherished moments.

You pointed out hills and valleys in my life as a wife, mother, minister, as a Christian. You showed me your church, whispering about its future. You spoke with me about leading with the spirit. You challenged me in my life as a grandmother, calling me to invite my grandchildren into a deeper walk with you and me. You gave me a snapshot of the past with an invitation for the future.

You renewed my faith, reminding me of my need to always listen to you, to be patient, to follow your leading, to be attentive to your presence in every situation. You opened the door to the future, to the new year, to a greater life with you.

We shut the door
to the past,
opened the door
to the future.
We celebrated the present
with your presence.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Dearest God,

How can even one person sleep when another is hurting? Today I prayed for the people of Pakistan. Chaos, destruction and fear are all around them. Why should I rest comfortably in my home when my brothers and sisters so far away are in turmoil?

How can I truly enjoy my life when one of the little ones cry out in fear?

We share
the same ancestry,
these,
my brothers and sisters.
We all
have the same root.
We all
came from you.
My family
is grieving.
Make me not content
until all your children
rest easy.

Love, Andrea