Friday, February 29, 2008

Dear God,

I wept this morning. I allowed my tears to fall upon my breast. Dressed in my jams and robe with disheveled hair and unbrushed teeth I drove to the bank, the post office and to my daughter's home.

I had turned on the CD, a rough cut of faith developing. The music filled my soul. I heard your words, some spoken to me on the mountain. I saw how the words had found their way to the melody of your song. I listened to those three blessed voices. I knew whose song they were singin'. In part I know their stories, how they got to where they are, know their struggles, watched with quiet joy as they opened the doors to their heart, let you in to rooms never before open. And when they were singin', the glory of God was slidin' down my face.

I saw my own faith, my learnings, my AHA moments. I listened and saw my family stirrin'. I saw the faces at the table, faces so unused to looking at one another, learning how to be together again, laughing and joy making. I saw my bitterness melting because I could feel the shiftin' going on. I cried out, "I want to live in the light of love." Holy words melting the dark ugly slime encasing my heart. I felt the intimacy of my declaration of love to you, my gratitude for changing my life, making me whole and alive after breast cancer and loss. And then I was invited to journey with you. Yes, I wept this morning because I was riding with you.

Great One,
your glory shines
every day.
Even on a grey, cloudy day
your glory shines bright.
The murky skies
look ominous, dark,
but oh,
above the clouds,
above threatening clouds,
there is a beauty
so magnificent,
so majestic.
You sing us
a lullaby,
a cradle song
of love.
Anywhere,
everywhere.
I heard it
this morning.
My tears
welcomed you
again.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Dear God,

We were small, a hand-full of worshippers but we had come to sing the songs of faith, our Lenten faith, our suffering faith. We had come to draw near to you.

I sat in the front pew, reading the scripture and excerpts from Then Sings My Soul, a book about the whys and how particular hymns were written, what the source of their inspiration was. I would stand and read, then we would sing the song and ponder the reflection question in silence. What is the meaning of the cross for us?

Our voices would blend together, some on key, some on not. But there was something so meaningful about singing those songs together. If we had been in some formal competition, we would not have been selected as the best singing group, however, if faith had been the determining factor, we would have risen to the top. Faith had drawn us to church. We cared about our spirit and soul. We desired to let you know we're mighty interested in a life with you. We wanted to nurture our faith, to strengthen our resolve to live Christian lives. And so we gathered at the best place we know to do so. We came together on 52nd Street.

While the numbers of people attending our services every Lenten Wednesday have been low, I have found it exceedingly joyful to plan them, to participate in them, to offer them to people who are hungry for a living spirit. I have watched their faces, listened to their voices, prayed for them, anointing many for healing either for themselves or someone else in the church. I have not been disappointed.

The Lenten season is my favorite. A walk in the desert is me. I am a desert dweller. I find comfort in the juice of the cactus, a surprise dose of living water. I know the route, the pitfalls, the danger of the desert because I've spent a lot of time there. I like the quiet of the desert. I know the routine. I wander until I find myself with you.

Although we are not aware, the desert is filled with travelers. We enter the desert when we stub our toe and fall down. We discover ourselves dry when we have failed to drink the water of faith on a regular basis. We know the desert by heart when we struggle with life situations. We intentionally go to the desert when we want to know more. We make our way when we decide we want to refine and purify what is the most important essential in our life - faith.

The desert is a wondrous place. Filled with amazing revelations and surprises, the desert is a wealth of wonder, a real life-saver. It offers more than any mall, resort, or vacation spot. It lets us ask questions we wouldn't normally ask. It teaches us that our backpacks are filled with remedies and solutions. It allows us to be ourselves, naked, transparent, real. Authenticity is the catchword of the desert. It provides opportunity for change and transformation. There are no judges in the desert, no naysayers, no demons. Just fertile soil for the soul.

I sat with desert dwellers last night and we sang the love song of the desert.

Perhaps my writing
comes from the desert.
Perhaps that is why
I am the most comfortable.
Perhaps it is where
I am the most vulnerable,
the most willing
to be honest.
Perhaps the desert
is more my home
than anywhere else
on the planet.
Perhaps I'm
more free here,
more liberated
to try new things,
new ideas,
new ways of being.
Perhaps I breathe
more easily,
the desert air
agreeing with me.
Perhaps
I am more with you
in the deserts of my life
than any other.
Perhaps
I am
an eternal desert dweller.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Dear God,

As I prepare for Lenten services and my study, I feel Lent in my bones. Crossing the desert in Lent keeps a sense of balance within me. I grasp hold of truth every Wednesday. I sit at your feet like Mary, Jesus' friend. I listen for your voice.

This intentional approach to you fills me with awe and wonder. And the fact that others join the pilgrimage must bring great delight to you. Those who commit themselves to the yearly trek I think find themselves in a different place than those who do not.

When I read my study book, listen to its tenets, feel its pull into the desert, I know I am moving toward living water. I pull out my pitcher and fill up. Then I reach into my pocket, take out my cup and pour. Closing my eyes I draw the cup to my lips, tilt and the exquisite taste of God fills me. My thirsty pores drink in the spiritual refreshment.

And when I plan the worship I feel the presence of the inner sanctuary, like the Bible talks about. I step inside, prepare, then simply orchestrate what you have planned. I know your presence.

It is Wednesday. Time again. Hallelujah!

You are all
I could ever want.
You fill me
with living water.
You sing
the songs of heaven
in the sanctuary.
You draw me in,
tell me your stories.
I want to sit
all day long
giving thanks.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Dear God,

I sing a song to my grandchildren, "Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you lately that I care?" And the older ones will always respond, "Grandma!"

Well, Lord, I want to sing the same song to you. "Have I told you lately..." I see so many signs of your presence and each time your presence makes me want to sing you a love song.

I listened on the mountain. I heard you say, "Do this and this." I followed your leading, put things in place, offered it as a proposal to the church. It was accepted. I put it on paper. And then I realized I needed help. I could not do one part. Healthwise, I am not able. Who would I call? I asked myself. Who could do it well? I continued to work, knowing I would have to return to that part once again.

I didn't have to look at all because while I sat in a hospital with a family all day, you brought the person to me. You had him sit right next to me. This is he about whom you prayed. What? You brought him to me? The stranger to me is a friend of the the hospitalized family. Of course.

We spoke, learning that each had needed the other for skills, talents, methodologies. A blending of gifts can offer exactly what you outlined on the mountain, a challenge for the body, mind and spirit. We exchanged e-mails, phone numbers.

He feels called to create adventure camps that will lead to healing, wholeness, and transformation. He imagines the future, but is not yet ready to move forward. I have what he needs. He has what I need. Together persons will rise to higher levels of faith, self confidence and a willingness to surrender obstacles in order to live a greater life in you. A lifestyle that breathes in new life.

The family did not know he was coming. But in an earlier conversation about the mountain experience the woman told me about him, saying he could do very thing I needed for the vision I had on the mountain. A couple hours later he sat down next to me as if to say, "God called me to come over, how can I help you? Oh and by the way God told me I could use your help."

Some things are impossible or possible with a great deal of effort. Yet, when you come into our lives, living with us daily, the impossible is made possible. Sometimes you plop down before us our answer. All you expect us to do is follow through.

You make things possible
because you love us
so much.
You show us the way
because you love us
so much.
You tell us, "don't worry,"
because you love us
so much.
You teach us to trust
because you love us
so much.
You give us what we need
because you love us
so much.
You grant us peace
because you love us
so much.
And because you love us
so much,
we get to love you
right back.

Always, Andrea

Monday, February 25, 2008

Dear God,

How do we trust ourselves to let go? How do we make it possible for our own self to walk into a world we have not yet walked?

Fear is a crippler. Its mangled tentacles can grab hold, sucking the life right out of us. It can tell us we can't make it in life without fear. So we hold on, all the while slipping away from our whole self.

It is painful to stand by, to watch a person gripped by fear. Although I have felt lead to describe the next world, to point out the resources innate inside every human being and have made invitations to move forward, the person can't, won't, isn't able so she thinks.

We take hold of the visible, the tangible, mistakenly thinking it is better than the invisible, the intangible. We grasp the lesser, allowing the greater to slip through our hands. We want to control the situation, putting ourselves in a precarious position. What we don't realize is that we are letting go of strenth as we take hold of a rope that is unraveling. Often we are not aware what we are doing until it completely unravels.

Growth comes from you. Faith comes from you. Tools for living come from you. Courage comes from you. Trust comes from you. Peace comes from you. Hope comes from you. You.

You are all
we need,
Great Comforter.
You speak
to our every need,
every concern,
every anxiety,
every fear.
You whisper
hope, compassion.
You offer mercy,
love, grace,
and a way out.
You encourage,
"trust me
and I
will take care
of you."
O Lord,
teach us
your ways.
Help us realize
that everything
we can see
will one day end
but all that we
cannot see
will remain forever.

Yours, Andrea

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Dearest God,

A miracle of light. A shaft of light that leaves heaven striking the earth.

Nick preached about a miracle. While in a room, just a few feet away, a true miracle was taking place. A new song from your lips was being sung.

Your words, your desire, your light still resonates upon the earth. You still have something to say, to tell your people who still don't fully get it. You still reach out in ways beyond our imagination.

Some days I just stand back and watch it happen. I see your presence titillating the souls of people all around me. I know you are alive among us, still doing wonderful things. In earlier days you healed a lame man, resurrected a little girl, rid a woman's bleeding, and gave yet another woman hope.

You make all the difference. You are the excitement in the air. You are the light. You are every miracle that unfolds. You are the song, the dance, the joy. We cannot manufacture what we are seeing.

I see it so clearly, like a veil lifted, a fog removed.

Your presence
is within your church.
You have something more
to say.
Words that challenge,
words that encourage,
words that give hope,
words that present love,
words that bring friendship,
words that offer
a new way,
words that transform.
Words that are you.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Dear God,

Noticing you walk by in a group, albeit family, friends, or even an office gathering is an amazing wonder. What is more wonderful is when more than one observes it.

The invitation to a weekend family event in July is evidence that more than one person was struck by your presence at a recent family wedding. And not just one, but others. When someone said, "Some things are too broken for us to repair." He/she was right. But when God enters the scene in a visible way, we know the Great Physician is there with all the necessary tools to bring about healing.

Years ago my uncle thanked me for conducting my grandmother's funeral. Because he always thought I was very much like Grandma, he made a comment about me taking her place.

Grandma was the reason our family came together. Grandma was the reason we loved so much. Grandma was the reason we felt connected, linked. Grandma was the reason faith lived in our family. Grandma was the reason we felt at "home." Grandma was the reason we felt so much joy. Grandma was the reason we each felt so special. Grandma was the reason.

That's a lot of responsibility. But it doesn't work that way. I never was my grandmother. I could not attain many of her qualities. However, I did find my way to faith through her and my faith has grown by leaps and bounds throughout the years. When I discovered on my own that faith truly is at the center of any meaningful existence and that God is indeed a real living being, I threw in my towel of doubt and picked up faith for the eternal journey.

But that did not make me into an image of my grandmother. I did try to be her for a long time. I tried to bring people together, to love people as they were, to give a sense of interconnection. But it didn't work because I was not her.

I finally gave up, moved over, let go, surrendered any notion that I had the power to be someone I was not. I could not make a family suddenly come together again. I could not make people like each other. I could not change the family dynamic to "the way it used to be." I had to step into your arms, whisper my confession, release my desires for a family into your hands and trust you. Not trust you to do something a particular way, or to do it at all, I just had to trust, period.

And now years later, I am discovering intricate methods by which you draw people together, pour salve on their wounds and grace in their hearts and give people new chances at life. The more I trust, the more I open myself to you, the more I grow in faith, the more I seek you, the more I am willing to surrender, to let go, no strings left, the more I see your face, hear your voice, notice you as you appear here, there and everywhere. And then, of course, obediently follow your direction. It's easier, less fuss and work.

We're truly coming home to one another, my family and I, we're coming home.

Grandma loved
a poem
about calling children
home for dinner.
We finally realized
we were hungry.
And now
we're headed
back home,
back home,
to you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, February 22, 2008

Dearest God,

We stood or knelt together, hovered over the person who asked for prayer. In the ancient tradition, we placed our hands on her head, her shoulders, back and arms. I made the sign of the cross with oil I had carried home from Jerusalem. We who were friends and strangers bowed, entering into the holy of holies as we prayed. As the light of a single candle burned on the altar reflecting upon the brass cross, we moved from person to person, anointing, praying.

More than one brushed tears from their eyes, realizing the beauty of gathering in your presence, becoming the one body of Christ, our hands his, our voice his, our love, his, our prayers his only. And we sang, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me..."

The circle of 14 had been drawn together as one, our voice one voice. We had prayed for one another. We had sought the favor of the Prince of Peace, your son. He had sat among us, praying with us, loving us silently. And as we stood for one final prayer, we felt his arms around us, holding us close and tight. And beautiful.

How lovely
is your church
when your people
pray for one another.
Our many colors
and traditions
and practices
enrich our center.
Empowered
with a spirit
from on high,
we step out
into the world
to make a difference,
a difference
of love and grace and mercy.
We are Jesus.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Dear God,

"A giant cavern filled with light!" I answered his question when he asked, "What did you see when your bitterness left?

I could not have imagined that my dark, ugly bitterness could be so great, so big until I let it go, released it to the air, surrendered its large tentacles that held my heart at bay. How could such a thing grow inside me? Years of fear.

Just days ago I learned some things that caused my fear to grow again. I became stubborn, drawing a line, making demands. I felt myself renewing my ability to think unkindly thoughts, putting things in place that would protect me from more hurt and rejection. I could hear the hissing sound of evil taking root within me. I was troubled.

It was one of my spiritual questioners who queried me about my bitterness when I told him I was facing two challenges. I asked for help. During our covenant group he questioned me, leaving me wide open to share my vulnerable places. In the course of the hour I found my way "home". I realized what I was truly facing.

"What are you afraid of?" He spoke like a loving father. "Oh, I see." I confessed. I suddenly remembered the biblical story of the woman who mustered up the courage to sweep away all the demons from her house. The trouble was that she didn't replace those demons. Eventually her empty home became filled once again.

How had I filled my cavern? And with what? I thought to myself. I smiled, actually laughed. I remembered. Sitting there on the cold, wind-swept mountain in November, beside the flowing river, wrapped from head to toe in warm layered clothing, I had swept away old beliefs, replacing them with new ones. Courage. Knowledge. Wisdom. Faith. Obedience. Love from you and love for myself. These welcome friends had become part of my new life. I had invited them in, asked them to fill my empty cracks, to stay for a long time, to accompany me on my journey through life.

I had nothing to fear. My new belief system was in place. The reason I felt my dis-ease was because my attitudes and actions had bumped into my new belief system. Inconsistent with the way I was carrying myself, I felt the rippling effect of fear based on old assumptions. I could let them go, release them because try as hard as they might, they couldn't take root in the soil of divine love, strength and joy. They simply dissipated when I said no.

I invited my husband for dinner. I shared my insights, my reflections. I made my confession of unfounded fears. I felt so free, so alive, like Julie Andrews dancing on top of a mountain in Austria singing, "The hills are alive with the sound of music with songs they have sung for a thousand years...My heart wants to sing every song it hears...My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds that fly from the lake to the trees..."

My heart soars
every time
I turn
to you.
I want to
sing and dance
to the tunes
of your grace.
I am free,
so truly free
as I listen
to your voice
and follow
your gentle way.
I let go
of my heavy burdens;
my load lightened,
I am free
to fly
upon the wind
of your spirit.

Loving you always, Andrea

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

My dearest God,

I can come to you with anything on my heart. I can tell you my deepest secret, my gravest fear, my inmost feelings. I do not walk this planet alone; for you are concerned about my concerns.

I have so much on my mind. Many things are popping up that need my attention. Sick people, church matters, family issues, and always personal health. In the night my head swirled with things that need my attention.

But, Lord, I found peace with you. "I welcome your presence." I told you in the night. "I welcome your presence." My faith is steeped in a belief that you are always present. It is not always night, a deep darkness where the light does not shine.

"Hold steady." I am reminded. "Hold steady. Trust me." I heard your voice. I have learned that a life of trust can bring not only direction and guidance, but also a calming peace that can carry me. In the hours ahead I will have to be reminded as I take on other matters needing my attention today. I will have the temptation of being overwhelmed. Your words, "Hold steady, trust me," I will need to trust.

What is life after all if not a trust walk? Like the exercise of children, I will need to fall backwards, trusting that your hands will catch me, hold me, carry me. I will be lulled to believe that I am well cared for because I have trusted you.

In the night a light shines constant.

I always stand
between light and darkness.
I can be called
either way.
I can walk
into the light
or I can step
into deeper darkness.
I desire
to walk
in light and darkness,
whichever you call me to.
For I know
that darkness
is not darkness
to you.
It is not
the opposite
of light.
Darkness is yet
another state of being,
a welcoming place
for faith and trust.
I want my soul
always packed
ready to follow you.
Oh Lord,
lead the way,
into light
or darkness
and I will follow.

Loving you, Andrea

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

My dearest God,

Why is it we hold on to others to make us safe? To make us happy? To make us secure? Why do we insist on others caring for us when in reality you have provided inner resources for a life safe, secure, and happy within our own selves?

Sometimes we hold on to a child, hindering their growth because we're not ready to let them grow up. We hold on to a dying parent because we don't know what our life will be like without them. We hold on to a decaying relationship because the future appears scarier than what is happening at the moment. We hold on...rather...than...allowing you...to hold on to us, providing us with everything we need.

The more I visit hospitals, the more I know the cycle of life, the more I understand life and death. We have been made mortal, finite, flesh that is not intended to stay supple and perfect. We have been born to die. We have an end date. Somewhere stamped on us is an expiration date. It's neither bad nor good. It just is.

Oh Lord, we try so hard to circumvent the natural process of living and dying. We so much want to run the show, to edit the plan, to change things. At the same time we ask you to work with us, to orchestrate our plan, to make our lives what we want them to be.

Make our minds
like the mind
of your Son Christ.
Make our spirits
willing to follow
the one great Spirit.
Make our emotions
the gift of God,
used appropriately
and well.
Make our hearts
like Mother Mary's
the blessed virgin
ever mild.
Make our feet
to traverse
the expanse
of time given us.
Make us wise,
realizing the gift
of patience, silence,
and surrender.
Make us
like you,
Great Creator,
a blessing
to you
and to the world.
Make us,
Great God,
make us
like you.

Love, Andrea

Monday, February 18, 2008

My dearest God,

What joy I experience when I think of opportunities to draw close to you. Just as you have brought to my mind, events, retreats, pilgrimages, workshops, I began my work to make plans. I can see in my mind's eye persons walking in the desert mountain following the cloud of the spirit. I can see people perched on a rocky coast in Maine pondering divine thoughts. I can see persons seated beside the Sea of Galilee drawing upon their biblical memory of Jesus walking on water. I can see others walking the way of the cross, the Via Dolorosa, in the old city of Jerusalem. I can see people washing the feet of impoverished Palestinian Christians, praying with them, putting on socks and shoes.

You are making a way for spiritual growth. You are opening spiritual doors. You are inviting persons to draw close, to become a spiritual pilgrim, to make new commitments to grow in faith and mission. You are asking for hearts to be widened, deepened that more of your love and grace can flow in. But more importantly you are wanting to set your church on fire with passion and service.

I am no longer surprised by what you do. I simply anticipate it. I am, however, always amazed. My mind is filled with awe and wonder. Who could want more?

Most Gracious God,
you are filled
with goodness
and mercy.
Your blessings
to us
overflow
into pools
of generous love.
We frolick and revel
in love
that keeps on giving.
You are God,
the God
of love,
generous to overflowing.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Dear God,

When I stand to preach, I have this burning fire inside myself. I know what is at stake. I know the investment I am making.

When I stand to preach for you, I fervently pray. "Oh Lord, let nothing stand between you and your message. Cleanse me from within so that I may offer your word." I pray for open hearts including my own. I ask for your power, your strength, your courage. I look out over the faces and I know many, if not all have a longing in their heart for you. I do not want to disappoint them. I want to give them something of you to take home.

Have I always been this way? Or am I getting closer to retirement and I want to give my best in these final months? I don't know. Perhaps it is the receptivity I find on some faces, a receptivity to hear the living word of God. It's easier to preach to a crowd who is interested in what is to come rather than one who is not.

I realize more every day how powerful your living word is, how it can get under people's skin because it is a living organism. I feel the urgency in my soul to share the truly great news of God. I know what happens to people when they come to the realization that your living word is authentic and has the power to transform human lives. I am seeing the fruit of your word.

Let your fire burn,
let it burn within.
Let the fire
of your love
rage,
like an uncontrolled wildfire.
Burn inside your church;
set it afire
with your spirit.
Let your people
welcome the fire
of the Living God.
Who are we
but a shell,
an empty shell
without your fire?
What can we do?
What difference
can we make
without it?
Burn, Lord,
burn within me.

Love always, Andrea

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Dearest God,

I know that Spring is around the corner. How do I know it? I feel the need to clean out, to rid myself of unwanted, unnecessary items in my home.

I spent a good part of the day cleaning out. I had my Christmas decorations scattered on the basement floor and I needed to put them away. But not before I cleaned out. What do I use? What am I just hanging on to?

I cleaned out every box and only packed items I plan to use again. Others were put in a box to be sold at a garage sale. Recycling is a good thing. Perhaps my things can bless someone else and the money I make can go for a good cause.

And while I was cleaning out the downstairs closet, I was also cleaning out my own insides. I too have things inside me that I have been hanging on to, parts of me that need sweeping away. I have some pieces I need to let go. I need to make room for sunshine in my soul. I need to open the windows to my heart, allowing for more fresh spirit air. I made that happen too.

A balanced life is one where the internal and external is on the same page. When there is joy externally, there needs to be joy bubbling inside. If I am needing to clean out, unclutter outside, perhaps I need to do a checkup of the inside.

The better life is one where you are leading always. I simply follow. I make checks to be sure you are the one leading, not me or someone else. I need to keep my faith alive, my spirit moving, my mind clear, my soul deepening. Pleasing you.

Loving God,
who can go astray
if they are
following you?
Who can be
sorrowful, grieving
if not
embracing you,
being embraced
by your love?
Keep me clean
on the inside
as I work
to clean up
the outside.
You are my Guide.
May I always
follow you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, February 15, 2008

Dear God,

Life lived in the deep can restore and renew relationships. Listening to your voice can bring a renewal not otherwise possible.

I have discovered that a life solely humanly directed will reap only limited benefits. If I act as if I am God over my own life, then I will acquire certain benefits by trusting in my own capabilities and efforts. I will, however, come to the end of my potential.

But, a life lived with you at the center of my existence can open me to a vast, yet unknown world, capabilities that go beyond my own capacities. I can connect to a greater source whose powers, resources, and ideas are infinite.

I have observed with great interest the numbers of persons tapping into this divine resource. Whether with sacred words written on the page, or music that comes from heaven, or relationship ideas that revitalize, I recognize your work, your power, your idea, your creativity. Truly, the divine/human relationship can embolden a life way beyond its own capacities. What can come of this connection is enough to enliven the human soul in ways never known before. I see what you do, how you do it. I see the sacred connecting human dots, making things happen not before possible. I see a golden thread sewn into the fabric of human living and I know that I know that I know that I know you are present and at work.

I see a sparkle in eyes that are experiencing your power of love and grace. I see you working in human hearts and minds that are truly seeking to serve and follow you. I am witnessing the amazement of divine power to make certain things happen that make yet other things happen. Each dot in a long line leading to a sacred event, is a dot that you have placed there in a moment in time. And for those willing to participate in the great spiritual adventure, you will bring great delight, courage, hope, meaning and value, joy to overflowing. And even greater is the way one's great pilgrimage of faith can touch and inspire others to move closer to the Divine.

You renew my relationship with you and my relationship with you renews someone else and so on and so on. I can hardly conceive it all.

Rich and glorious God,
I sit at your feet
glorying
in the beauty
of your grace.
How you enter
the human soul
bringing with you
love and joy,
courage and strength,
hope and peace
encourages my love
for you
to grow.
I know
that the realm
of deep spirit
is the place
I want always
to live with you.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Dear God,

A wave of the spirit is washing over us.

It seems in the beginning all one tries to do is connect with you. Sometimes this process seems to take a long time. There are highs and lows in the spiritual life. One can expect to link up, to touch God, like Michelangelo's painting of the Creation on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the divine and human reaching out toward one another, index fingers touching. A divine-human relationship begins at that touch.

One can be overwhelmed at this touch, having known the unique touch of God. One can live with this one touch, remembering over and over the inspiration one felt, the deep connection one had experienced. Perhaps this one touch will lead to another, at least the desire to reach out again in the hope of connecting a second time.

And so it goes. The true seeker, a pilgrim after God's own heart, will make this a lifetime endeavor, an eternal connection that is at the center of one's own heart, as deep as the human spirit connecting with the divine spirit that is eternally within.

But somewhere, sometime one will connect and remain connected. Like an alcoholic whose desire for another drink is overwhelming, so does a human heart long for this relationship with you. It is central to the rest of their life.

When a group of people begin to seek you together, there can be this explosion of spirit, an inspiration of such proportion that life looks truly different. The skies take on a new hue, courage erupts in new ways, spirit songs are birthed, hearts begin to beat in rhythm with your own, joy bubbles over even in sad times; a revolutionary power is at work.

And this is the juncture where a wave of the spirit begins to form and crash over us. Bethel United Methodist Church, a company of spirit people, a community of faith, began with one, then two pilgrim seekers, and now there are more than we know at differing layers of spirit touch. We long together for you. We yearn to live in the deep where a life of faith truly exists. We find our joy together, sharing it with one another, living in amazement that such power is authentic and at work in the world.

Today a man visited me about an entirely different matter but he said something that I shall never forget. "Your leadership skills have helped give shape to who we are and where we have come from. We all now wear white robes because you told us to wear them." Of course, we don't wear robes every Sunday. What he was talking about is spirit robes. "When someone gets upset about something, people don't talk about people the way they used to. They won't put up with it because we're wearing white robes." He told me.

I know that I am not a powerful woman or a powerful leader. What I am is a human trusting God to transform my own heart in such a way as to transform the hearts of those around me. This spirit wave is awashin' over us!

Wash over us,
spirit wave.
Let the love
of Jesus
wash over us.
Cleanse and purify us;
renew the spirit
within us.
Make us clean
and pure
for you,
for your service.
Let the wave
of your spirit
wash over us
so that
we will be filled
with your power
from on high.
Then let the light
of your spirit
shine upon
your world,
cleansing and purifying,
renewing your world
with spirit love.

Always, Andrea

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Dear God,

A self inventory is not easy. It gives me permission to see the truth about myself. I see what others see or perhaps I just see what you see.

It is Lent, a time of truth telling. I cannot hide or escape the truth about myself. I must look, examine myself, let you whisper life's realities to me.

This vulnerable act is so necessary if I really want to understand God's purpose in my life. I must go under the microscope so the truth can be revealed.

There is something so freeing about truth's revelation. I don't have to run away. Once I know the truth, I know the truth. I no longer have to be afraid about knowing it. When I die some day I want to go with all the truth known.

Every little smudge and smear, the darker side of life revealed, but also life's goodness living in me. What joy comes from me is part of the truth about me. What I offer into the universe is part of my life's truth. Being known fully to myself can give me a new meaning in life, an opportunity to make changes, to grab hold of what is beautiful.

Let the truth
be told.
Let me
let you
tell my truth's story.
I want
to be real,
authentic,
a telling
of good and evil,
of light and darkness,
of peace and conflict.
I am human
living with the divine.
May the truth
of my being
become clear
to me
as it is to you.
I am yours.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Dearest God,

We've always taken ourselves too seriously. Our lives have been in a state of disruption for a very long time. Judgement, being critical of another's decisions, was our modus operandi for decades, leading to years of resentment and bitterness.

But like a huge freighter breaking through the ice, we've been breaking down barriers in our relationships with one another. We laugh more easily, having shed our judgementalism, or at least operating out of forgiveness and grace. How long does one have to pay for a sin?

Last Sunday night Harold and I conducted a wedding on an extremely bitter cold night in Chicago. My niece was marrying, finally having found her soulmate. She had told me she wanted the wedding to be simple, light. God had brought her a mate whose love for God was every bit as strong as hers. She had waited to marry until she could yoke herself to a godly man whose life of faith was fundamental to a growing relationship.

I had conducted the rehearsal the night before. Everyone seemed confident in their role. No questions. But on Sunday evening things began to unravel. The pastors got lost trying to find their way to the chapel. We couldn't get anyone to answer their cell phones. Finally we got there five minutes before the wedding was to begin.

We stepped downstairs, changed into our robes, talked with the bride. Everything seemed fine. We walked upstairs and stood in the hallway. The caretaker asked when the music was to begin. I said 5:10 p.m. It was now 5:30 p.m. Quickly she put on music. Of course, it wasn't the music that the mothers would enter with so we had to wait for the "air" music to finish.

The "pink lady", the caregiver was wearing pink so that's what I called her, handed me the CD so I could make changes in the music. I dropped it and the cover went sliding, breaking in half. At the same time Harold was rehearsing how to say the groom's name. Wrong, over and over again. He was butchering the last name and getting the first and middle names mixed up.

The only female attendant, my niece, kept asking when she should go around to the back of the church since it appeared pretty noisy in the chapel since there had been no music. Now that there was music, people were still talking and because it was extremely cold and people had to walk a distance to get into the church, we were trying to give people time to arrive. And because there was no way to get to the back of the church except to go outside and walk around in the bitter cold with no coat, we kept waiting. Once we opened the door slightly to see how many peole had gathered and everyone waved.

Finally I asked Harold to go downstairs and get the bride. Instead Harold simply stood at the top of the stairs and hollered loudly, "Noele, it's time!" We all broke into laughter. I nearly killed him. He was still repeating the wrong name when I said it was time to go. They opened the door and the brisk wind took our breath. They hurried outside and we went around the back of the altar, through the hall to where the groom and best man were waiting.

We stood talking, waiting for the next song to begin. It began all right but it was the wrong song. I decided that things had already gotten off to a rocky start so I didn't worry about it and the four of us walked out and took our places. The parents had not yet been seated so we stood while they were seated.

That was when we realized there was an aisle runner. No one had said there would be an aisle runner. So Harold who had not attended the rehearsal started loudly whispering (everyone in the first pews could hear him) started saying my nephew's name, trying to get his attention. He heard Harold but didn't know what he wanted or why he was saying his name. Harold was trying to tell him to do the aisle runner. He was puzzled at the same time I was whispering to Harold to forget it but he kept getting louder. Finally the two ushers came down to open the aisle runner. But it was stuck. When it started to open, I saw that it was torn. And then it simply went off the cardboard roll. The aisle runner was just 6' long and the end was rolled upward. That's when the Norwegian cousin jumped up and tried to pat the end down. Then on hands and knees he folded it over and kept pushing it down. We were all laughing so hard we could hardly contain ourselves.

Then the matron of honor, the flower girl and the ring bearer started walking in. I just prayed they wouldn't get tangled up in the end of the aisle runner. When they took their place, the music stopped. There was dead silence, except for the remnant of those still laughing from the aisle runner. We waited and waited. I was just about to step around the corner to the pink lady when finally the wedding march began. In walked the beautiful bride with her father who looked puzzled when they saw the aisle runner for the first time.

When the couple arrived at the bottom of the steps, we thought the music would end, but that would have been too easy for this marriage ceremony. So everyone remained standing until finally the pink lady realized to quiet the music. Harold began the ceremony repeating the groom's name perfectly. He did fine except that he forgot to ask who gave the bride away so the father remained in the middle of the couple.

I began reading the scripture when Harold started whispering beside me, "you've got to ask who gives the bride." I kept on reading. When I finished, I asked the question. The father kissed the bride and took his place in the second pew.

I shared my meditation on love trying to contain myself in this wedding ceremony gone askew. I asked the couple to turn to one another to give their vows. I untied the rings, thinking the groom's ring would slip off the pillow but I was able to get them both. They glowed as they repeated their vows.

Then I spoke about the unity candle behind me on the altar. While I was talking about how God unites people in a holy love, I noticed the people looked very strange so I turned around to see that the unity candle and the tapers were still in the blister plastic box on top of the altar. No one had taken them out. I turned back around, chuckling saying like a sacramental line in the service, "well, I see we failed to remove the candles from the plastic box." Harold immediately left my side as I tried to return to my pontification about unity with God. I could hear Harold ripping and tearing, a real battle with the plastic. People were laughing. The couple was laughing. "God's love unites a couple..." I tried to continue. I turned around to see that Harold had set up the candles and was stepping down the step, away from the altar carrying all the plastic in his arms. I continued. "You will light your candle representing your own unique life..." I said as my niece matron of honor whispered, "Harold just lighted the candles." "I see the candles have been lighted." I continued to speak about unity when my niece whispered that Harold had blown out the candles. "I understand the candles have been blown out so I will now ask the mothers to come forward to light the candles representing the lives of their children."

People were dying in the pews. And I was dying up front. Harold and I stepped to the side as the mothers came forward. I watched as the mothers picked up the candles. I could see that the candle for the bride had been broken in the hasty opening of the plastic box. The mothers took their light from the hurricane candles nearby, the bride's candle leaning to one side. People were guffawing by now. I was trying to remain focused and calm but my whole body was shaking with laughter.

The mothers sat down and the couple walked up front as "Jesu, Son of Man's Desiring" began to play. I watched as the groom stepped on the bride's train. A little tug, I heard her say, "You're standing on my train." He moved over as they both took their candles, the bride's crooked, just hanging on by a thread. That's when I heard the groom say, "okay, let's go back" as the bride was saying, "we're supposed to stay up here." Inside I was dying, wondering what more could possibly go wrong. They walked past me, taking their place at the bottom of the steps. The music continued as we stood at least another minute waiting for the pink lady to cut the music.

I finished the service. So grateful. I asked them to kiss one another. Then they turned to be introduced. "It is my privilege to introduce..." And that's when I did it. I called him Jason instead of Joshua. People broke up. I was told later that Jason was Noele's boyfriend for ten years.

We all started down the aisle, quickly passing the aisle runner. When everyone was out, I stepped back out into the aisle to announce that the couple would greet everyone at the reception but I couldn't remember where the reception was so I turned to ask the couple and they told me. I stepped back feeling a complete failure when the volunteer photographer called out for everyone to stay because she was taking pictures. The whole place erupted into laughter.

Well, needless to say, God, the whole wedding was a shambles, but they were married. And stories at the reception abounded. Everyone was saying it was the funniest wedding they had ever attended. The pink lady even congratulated me for the most hilarious wedding.

While we laughed and danced the night away, I realized the healing that was taking place in our family. We were laughing together, all of us, over and over again. We had a story to tell, a happy one really. The couple were deeply in love and their faith in God and love for God's son was even deeper. We all said it was a marriage made in heaven. And the wedding, well I think it came from heaven too.

We all said,
God has
a sense of humor
and so you do.
You have taught us
that the way of love
is the way of God.
Learning, listening,
following,
we can find you
in our midst.
We are enabled
to let go
of past sins
and reach
for the future.
We are grateful
to you,
O Lord,
for you are
an awesome God.

Love, Andrea

Monday, February 11, 2008

Dearest God,

How can so many people experience healing at the same time? How do you change hearts leading the way toward healing? How do you do it?

So many years, so unbelievably many years that we have carried deep hurts, wounds, resentment and bitterness. A whole family broken apart in so many pieces. Impossible to come together in any kind of way.

Yet, we did it. We did it! WE DID IT!!! We gathered for a wedding. Even that was a miracle. For years we hadn't spoken. No desire to change. I prayed for something different, I corresponded, praying that we would allow you to break down our barriers. But nothing. No communication back. Nothing. I lived my inner life alone, apart from those you had put together at birth. Even our children did not reach out; some held on to their parents' bitterness. Awful, tragic, lost days, weeks, months, years. But it's over, it's really over.

I write from the other side of despair. I've climbed the mountain of grace and forgiveness. I've found my way to mercy, compassion. And along the way my own sorrow and anger dropped away so that by the time I reached your destination for me, I could not find my own obstacles, protection. They had simply slipped away. Didn't need them any longer. Let go. I let go, discarded those things that kept me apart from the others. Trusted. Trusted you, although I didn't know it.

How many times did the younger generation tell us last night how wonderful, how miraculous it was to see three sisters dancing together again after forty five years? "We prayed," my nieces and nephews told me. "We prayed for change and what we got was a miracle."

I rode in the car with my sister to the rehearsal dinner. We hadn't been together since my mother's death eight years ago. I called, wrote and never heard anything. Lives just four hours away. Like she had dropped off the earth and didn't care that she had family back home.

But she talked with me. For the first time she was vulnerable, opened up, was honest about herself. We were two sisters talking together about real things. On the coldest night of the year where temperatures were minus degrees, we had the warmest conversation we've had in more years than I can remember.

On the mountain I penned, "there's a shiftin' goin' on." I had no idea where, how much, what way the shift would take place, who would be involved, how it would happen. I just knew inside my soul that a shift was happenin'. A quake took place in my soul. Did that make a pathway where others would join me on the upper climb? Did my own soul's shift initiate a shift in the souls of my family? How, Lord, how did it all happen?

I sat with my brother at the pool yesterday. I queried him about Christmases past because I'm writing a book of Christmas stories. Couldn't have happened years ago. Poor decisions made, hurting others badly. Resentment building up. Breaking apart, piece by piece.

But somehow, someway, we found lost pieces, remnants of our souls. And we spoke gently, lovingly, tenderly. The bitterness gone, at least from my own heart. We could remember earlier days of joy and happiness.

Life is different now. I know it. And this younger generation, they have a chance for wholeness. And their children, and their children.

I bow
before you,
Holy God.
I am witness
to your miracle power.
Nothing
is so broken,
crushed or shattered
that your holy power
cannot retrieve
and make whole.
Like the dead bones
in Ezekiel's land,
you have breathed
into us
new life
together.
We're a rattlin';
I can feel it,
hear it.
Rattlin' bones,
family bones
comin' together
to join
the season
of life.

Oh how I love you, Andrea

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Dearest God,

We haven't been together for years. Conflict, hurt, resentment, bitterness ruled for so long.

A warming trend is taking place. Four children born in seven years have returned to one another. Three of us had come together last November. But now the four of us sat at the table together. Talking.

But this is not the only one. I stood in what used to be a navy chapel, surrounded by a naval base. Abandoned, it is now a ritzy village. Pretty much you can walk anywhere and find just what you need. We can't because there is snow everywhere; it is bitter cold and snowing.

What I discovered is that the warming trend is occurring in another family, the one to whom my niece is marrying. Two young people, both 33 are wedding. He a norwegian serving in the US Army Rangers; she a sales consultant for a leading retail store. How they found each other is a miracle story in itself.

I led the wedding rehearsal, instructing everyone in the wedding ceremony. Seating everyone is a challenge. Two divorces muddy the waters. Can't sit together, especially when bitterness grew up between them. Different pews on both sides.

When we concluded, I invited family and friends to gather in a circle for prayer in the altar area.
Hands once bitter, reached out becoming one circle. I shared alarming statistics about the chances of this marriage making it. "The more divorces in the family, the greater the chance of divorce in this marriage." A sobering thought, we bowed for prayer.

I began. "What a privilege it is, Great Loving God, to be one circle. We thank you for your grace that allows us to reach out to one another..." I prayed, leaving my prayer open for others to join in. "Dear God, please do not allow the mistakes of our parents to claim this marriage. Give them all the more determination to be the couple you want them to be." My one niece prayed. "Father, we thank you for the love of Jesus in our children who are to be married. Give them your grace to work out their difference, and a love that will conquer every disagreement." His father prayed. "Let this love be a covenantal love, O God." His mother prayed. "Dear Heavenly Father, make me a godly wife for my husband. Help me to support and love him always." The bride offered.

It continued as family members and friends offered prayer on their behalf. Somewhere in the midst of the praying, we began worshipping, honoring God, lifting you up, giving praise and thanksgiving. The sweet spirit in the holy space seemed to erase the bitterness from the past. Each parent prayed for their child and spouse. I opened my eyes to see you with us.

You are God.
Only you
can heal us,
filling in the
grevious cracks
of the past.
Your love
can take hold,
renewing cells
that had forgotten
how to love.
You are God
whose loving forgiveness
touches hearts,
restoring life.
You are God,
healer of our souls.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Dearest God,

Around and round. Each morning I rise to write you, to listen for your voice, to write words conveying hope, joy, grace, trust, love, and mercy. I write the words of faith that come daily. I don't have to search; it comes pretty easy. I'm like Blue on Blue's Clues. I look for clues of your appearance. Sometimes they come in darkness when my heart is sad and blue. They come in all colors and shapes, sounds and insight.

Yesterday I listened to a rough cut song using our words, yours and mine, from my ten year anniversary celebration with breast cancer on December 17. How well I remember our time together with cancer, how instead of hating it, I embraced it, speaking tenderly to the infected cells, then bidding my breast goodbye. How prized the time was as we spoke openly, freely many times every day. How close we became, walking toward each other, focusing on your presence in my life, my joy, my hope, my refuge. No other time like it. My life was changed forever.

A musician read my letter to you dated December 17. He was inspired to pick up his guitar, to begin to play, to sing our words, yours and mine. He put the song on a CD, then gave it to me. And I played it, singing along, remembering the anniversary, remembering the day of my diagnosis, remembering events minutes and days after diagnosis. But more than that I remember the sweetness of your presence. I could hear your presence in the song.

After having dinner with a friend who is battling breast cancer, I played the song for her. Around and round it went to yet another level of existence, my experience, the musician's experience and now my friend's experience. You are singing your song around and round, around and round. I like it; I really like it.

Around and round,
the sound
of your voice
goes around and round.
Melodies of healing,
of hope, comfort,
and peace
singing their songs
for the universe.
Faith going
around and round
to yet another
thirsty soul.
Around and round
your presence
revealing,
around and round
to all the earth.

Love, Andrea

Friday, February 8, 2008

Dear God,

An instant party, I put together an instant birthday party for my daughter. Thank you for grocery stores who carry cakes, ice cream, flowers and birthday cards and restaurants for food.

We had had to cancel her party two days before because it was rainy and cold and she didn't want to take Rylan out. But today was her real birthday and her husband was working so I made up a party while I drove to her house. I had already talked to her daughter and we engaged in cahoots together.

As I drove into the driveway, I could see through the open curtains that the party had already begun. When I walked in, the music was blaring with our favorite song, Staying Alive. I dropped my purse, threw off my coat and started dancing. Jill was dancing with baby Rylan. Two year old Lucy was jumping up and down and Gabrielle had her arms flailing as they were singing our song. "Dance backwards!" I shouted and we started doing special moves backwards. Singing and dancing, I remembered back to two events.

The first was the time that Staying Alive became our song. It was July 4, 2007. Jill was pregnant. We had driven to St. Ann's Church to watch the fireworks in Kennebunkport, Maine. It was cold and rainy and windy. We had made it through a picnic dinner but we were wrapped up in extra clothes. The wind picking up over the ocean made us so cold that we walked to the car. Because it was raining, they couldn't get the fireworks under way so we sat in the car, all six of us. We sat and sat. The kids got restless. So they urged me to tell a story.

In the next half hour I concocted a story that wouldn't end. Sally with the limp, Dr. Bo and the sheep, the twin princesses, a European cruise where Sally was cured and Dr. Bo's hand became withered, the princesses' mother who turned crazy and served tea and cookies all the time, Dr. Bo's healed toe jam...it went on and on. We laughed so hard we made the car wiggle. Little Lucy kept shouting, "Dr. Bo, Sally with the limp, Dr. Bo, Sally with the limp." Dr. Bo's and Sally and all their friends' favorite song was Staying Alive because they had danced to it on the cruise so we all sang it in the car. Ever since we will erupt into song or turn it on and sing and dance remembering Dr. Bo and Sally. Even two year old Lucy. What a grand time to recreate regularly.

Secondly, February 7, 1975, the day of my daughter's birth. How well I remember going to the doctor's office for a regular visit and he told me I was in labor and would give birth soon so we went to the hospital next door. I remember holding her the first time. My third and last child. I held her close and prayed her first prayer aloud.

I had made a really big mistake telling Jill when she was a teenager that she had been conceived to celebrate a marriage coming back together, then torn apart just months into the pregnancy. From that Jill had absorbed the responsibility of failure for the marriage and divorce. It took years to overcome my failure to my daughter and years for her as well.

But here we were on Jill's birthday in her home, she, her three children and me dancing and singing away like a crazy three generation family. And you smiled.

Healing,
the divine way.
You crept
into our spirits
and brought healing
to our souls.
We sang
and danced
to the tune
of your spirit.
We'll always
sing and dance
to your sound.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Dearest God,

We had gathered for a simple meal of soup and bread. We had come together to remember One whose life has entered our souls. We had come to celebrate, to participate in Ash Wednesday, the first day of a new beginning.

Following the simple meal, we had eaten the holy meal, the divine presence of Christ. In that meal the life of Christ was made real; he came alive in us as we made our way our pilgrimage to the sanctuary.

Ashes awaited us, burned palms from a year ago. Symbols of celebration when we were glad to welcome Jesus into our lives. Days later a crucificixion. Now a year later, Ash Wednesday.

I look at my life and wonder. Where have I welcomed Jesus in? Where have I crucified? And why? And what does it mean a year later to wear the mark of the cross? What is different? The same? Where do I need to change this Lent? There is so much about me that you want to transform. Make me willing. I want to be a new creation for Easter.

I wear

your cross

on my forehead.

I bear

your mark

on my heart.

I carry

your cross

in my pocket.

Can I

truly walk

with you

this season?

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Dear God,

On this holy Ash Wednesday I stand with you, remembering the gift of your life in Jesus.

This morning I will pilgrim my way to the monastery. I will sit with my spirit-life colleagues; we will light our candle, listen to the open word. We will probe the secrets of the universe as we share faith together. Then we will stand in line, waiting for the mark of the cross. And I will carry it all day long, remembering.

Today begins a new level of discipline. While today's mark will fade and disappear, the mark of the cross on my heart and soul I will still carry, humbly, for I am your servant.

Oh Lord,
such days
pierce my heart,
reminding me
of your gracious gift
and my own unworthiness.
Yet, I dare step forward,
lean in to the altar,
receive the mark,
feel its lines
etched in ash.
I am marked
as yours.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Dear God,

Sometimes I am privileged to witness the germination of an idea that buds, grows, blossoms, its seeds blowing in the wind to other places, falling to ground, growing roots, budding, growing, blossoming, releasings its seeds...

In the last few months, I have watched ideas come, germinate, bud, grow, blossom. I have watched with great interest the seeds blowing in the wind, being caught by fertile souls which start the process all over again. Happening in our church and around the world.

I am observing persons who have caught the seed, allowing it to take root in their own lives. I am watching their fruit grow and their seeds taking root in others. It is all the idea, the root of God. Your seed. Your fruit. Your blessing.

This encounter with your seed is a wondrous process. All those who are touched by it now live with silence in their souls. For the silence is the magic that inspires the seed to germinate, take root. Silence, the miracle fertilizer, shares its secrets, makes things happen, motivates, inspires, greatness coming to life.

I watch it with spirit eyes. Eyes that see the spirit moving, at work in human lives. A gift, a beautiful gift of wonder. I am blessed to participate in the spirit realm where true living takes place, a realm of possibility, creativity, hope, and miracle.

I remember where my own seed came from, the seed of faith. A godly grandmother whose example released seeds to others. I know that I too have shared in this amazing process, allowing your seed to become deeply embedded in my soul, growing, blossoming, releasing seeds into the wind. I know many who have grabbed hold of the divine seed that I surrendered into the world and I see what they are doing with their lives, how they are part of the multiplication of spirit.

This morning
I swell with your joy,
having known
your great power.
The courage
in the seed
gives new life
and purpose.
Joy is bubbling up,
peace is settling in,
the flower
is pushing
through the soul.
New life,
wondrous
and beautiful.

Love, Andrea

Monday, February 4, 2008

Dear God,

Laughter cleanses the soul; there is no doubt about it. When the body erupts in a belly laugh, the cobwebs, collected over time, pull and fall away. A broom sweeps away cluttered feelings of frustration, hurt, disappointment, fear and loneliness. I watch it and also feel the exercise in my own soul.

Last night a few friends came over for pizza, sharing, and a ball game. It was the last twelve minutes of the game when the women left the kitchen table for the living room. The game was tense (or was that just me?). At times one of us would say something silly that would strike a chord of laughter and we would just laugh and laugh. Even through my own laughter I would see the faces of my friends laughing. Worry lines faded, anxious thoughts escaped, fear dissipated. It is an amazing adventure, laughter.

I have always believed that laughter was intended to cleanse the soul of unwanted debris. When I laugh, I can't also hold onto a frown. I'm not able to maintain bitterness, nor hold on to sad thoughts. I can't keep resentment in check. When I laugh all these feelings are jarred and changed, if only for a moment. I figure it's a good thing.

This morning as I write, I smile, thinking back about the evening, our time together, our laughter and joy. And I give thanks to you, author of joy.

I laugh
and laugh again.
I feel God,
I feel you
down deep
in my soul.
Tickling my spirit,
ridding me
of unwanted,
unnecessary debris,
I laugh
with the laughter
of God.
My funny bone
shakes the rest of me
alive.
And I know
your presence.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, February 3, 2008

My dearest God,

I remember the season when our greeting time was a brief experience of whispering hello to our neighbor sitting nearby. Now, we nearly need to ring a bell to call a halt after five minutes of handshakes, hugging, sharing, moving from pew to pew, greeting as many people as possible.

A spirit happening occurs as hearts are opened to you. When people allow their souls to crack open after being heavily guarded for so long, it is possible to see evidence of your presence. Our Sunday morning ritual is a generous display of spirit.

I can see the faces of my flock on Sunday morning. Although my own soul is prepared for worship, I am still vitally interested in what is happening to the souls you have given me to tend. I watch their faces, their body language, the ways in which they sing. Oftentimes I am able to discern a movement of your Spirit. It gives me joy.

But these days it isn't just one or two, I see so much spirit in my people (your people really). It is popping up all over the place, in the front rows and the back, in the choir and at the piano. I remember being thrilled if I saw one person moved by a song, a prayer, a fellowship hug, the message. Now it's a true spirit movement. Your spirit has moved through my congregation, embracing oh so many. It gives them joy. They like it, no they love it. And they know it is not a manufactured false expression of your spirit. It is a real, authentic experience of your love, a love that first entered hearts on a superficial level, then deeper at soul level. My hours in worship are now spent in gratitude for what I witness, observe and experience. And that gives you joy.

Most Holy Powerful God,
only you
can soften
a human heart.
Only you
can break down
the barriers
of mistrust, apathy,
disinterest.
Only you
can create
a crack
in the human soul.
Only you
can put
a spirit smile
of human faces.
Only you
can make music
in a spirit
where there
has been none.
Only you
can bring
holy laughter
where bitterness
once lived.
Only you
can break open
sealed tears
held back so long.
Only you
can move
a human being
toward God.
Only you,
Great God,
only you.

Loving you always, Andrea

Saturday, February 2, 2008

My dearest God,

I enjoy taking chaos and helping it to find calm. I find meaning in taking torment and weaving peace into it. I find joy in taking the hand of someone who anguishes and injecting hope, turning stressful cells into quiet surrender.

I have a rhythm about me. I learned that a long time ago. This rhythm can take me down, collapsing my inner soul. Or if I give myself utterly to the rhythm that is divine, sacred, one that gives life in a gentle give and take, I am quietly invigorated. My life finds balance and a joy in peaceful living.

When I reflect upon my life, the chaotic times as well as the balanced times, I can see your shadow cast over me. I can see your hand upon mine, hear your voice whispering, know the gentle love that comes to me.

This truth came to me as I took a large disorganized, cluttered kitchen pantry (not mine) and turned it into a usable, functioning, organized arrangement of staples, foodstuffs, paper products and kitchen appliances. Although it took some time, I felt the rhythm of bringing order to disorder. There should be no more stress in trying to find something.

One of my favorite scriptures is from Ecclesiastes..."a time and season for all things under heaven..." I know the season of discontent, unsettledness, and stress. But I have also known the pendulum's swing toward contentment, settledness, and peace. And I know the source of this movement is you.

Through daily ordinary activities I learn from you. The season of discernment comes to me and I see revelation. When I am trusting, courageous, I follow your direction to the peaceful place. I give up my anxious feeling and I almost instantly feel my breathing change rhythm. I know I have stood with you, followed your leading, known the result of your desire for me.

I am blessed.

Loving God,
you are not
a distant god,
far off and away.
But rather
you are with me,
just as you are
with my neighbor.
These days
I ride the pendulum
with you,
tempted often
to jump off
to the other side.
But why?
Why enter
the place
where chaos reigns?
Riding with you
brings me greater joy
than anything
in life.
You are
the God
I serve,
the God
I love.
I am blessed.

Love, Andrea

Friday, February 1, 2008

Dearest God,

Kindness is an act of God. I observed your kindness in the medical personnel at the hospital yesterday. The way they met my daughter as she prepared for surgery, the way they were gentle and tender, the way they cared for her, the way they spoke with her, the way they handled her. It was your voice I heard as they tended to her.

My Jenni took care of me for 40 days when I had breast cancer. Because I had complications, because my surgery was problematic, because I did not recover well, because I had signs of pneumonia, my Jenni cared for me as if she were you. She was filled with kindness.

The new ad on television displays kindness, one person caring for another, then another and yet another. Imagine if kindness could touch each person on the planet, how much better we would be.

I see your face in kind people, tender-hearted souls. Words of kindness can lift, can embrace, can give hope, can calm, can make a person smile. Words of kindness spoken can give life. You do it all the time.

I want to be a kind person. I want my words to be words of kindness. I want to offer peace to persons in chaos by offering them kindness as a way of life. I want my kindness to bring you alive in others.

Make my heart
a kind heart,
one who sees
through others,
what they need,
what they hope for,
yearn for.
I want kindness
to be the beat
of my heart,
a gentle rhythm
pumping out
goodness and love.
Kindness is
an act of your love.
Make me
to be like you.

Love, Andrea