Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Dear God,

A sparrow has called our house her home. She keeps pecking at the window, rising up and down taking all her weight to push against the glass trying to make her way inside. When she can't budge the window in the living room, she flies to our bedroom and does the same thing. She's been doing it for a couple of weeks. I keep telling her she is welcome but I fear that she will kill herself trying to press against the glass that will never budge trying to get into a place where she would not be happy or content. "It's okay, rest easy." I will say to her. But she is insistent. She will fly up into the branches of one of the trees and in minutes return to fly into the glass and then perch on the ledge looking inside, longing for something that she cannot attain.

How many times have I tried to budge something that wasn't budgable? (I'm sure it's not a word but I like it.) How often have I tried to move something that simply couldn't be moved? I've worn the bruises and the scars from my battles. And sometimes I fight for years to make something happen. It is only when I give up my own will and trust in yours that I find what I'm longing for.

My birdfriend will never make it inside. It's not really where she wants to be. My hope and prayer is that she will find joy in sitting on the ledge with you waiting for her time to come, an appointed time for something to happen. What? I don't know. But I know you do.

Bless my little friend,
O Lord.
Bless this little one.
Protect her
from herself.
Keep her safe
from harm.
Give her instincts
to save herself
and trust you
for the rest.
Bless my little friend,
O Lord.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Dearest God,

One of my most favorite things is to leave home on an excursion and find you where I land. It is not as though I have gone on a hunt for the sacred but I always find it. Or rather the truth is, it finds me.

For just a 24 hour getaway my husband and I came to Spring Mill State Park. I haven't been here for years. My hubby doesn't ever remember being here. He had already been on the road for nearly four hours when he stopped to pick me up.

Driving south we came upon some of the most exquisite, most beautiful pinks, purples, and whites. A colorful landscape of Redbud, Dogwood, and Bradford Pear, the drive was breathtaking. We kept saying to one another, "look over here, look there." When we turned into the inn driveway we were greeted by the delicate red, yellow and purple tulips standing tall, blowing in the breeze. Nature welcomed us in all her grandeur. Who could dismiss an opportunity to acknowledge the great majestic wisdom of the Sacred Creator?

Walking into our aged inn room we looked out the window, a picturesque scene of varied greens kissing the colorful blossoming trees. We put down our things and walked downstairs to the first floor. We found a corner to ourselves and we talked. When was the last time we talked without the phone, television, and newspaper? Oh my goodness, I can't remember when. Being a slave to the outer forces can rob a person of the personal.

We talked for quite a while, then went upstairs to eat dinner in the inn dining room. Sitting beside the window where a birdhouse stood, we watched the comings and goings of an array of birds, some with red necks, brown heads and black bodies, white bodies with black stripes along with the occasional doves. Pecking at the corn mallet we were mesmerized by their unique beauty and activity.

After dinner we decided to take a walk outside. Bundling up in our coats and Western hats, we walked out the front door and journeyed around the side to the back door where we came back inside because it was way too cold and we didn't have enough coat power to keep us warm. So we returned to the first floor. And what did we do? We played checkers and Scrabble. Harold beat me both times.

As we retired to our room I remembered all the reasons why I fell in love with this man. He is witty (although he drives me crazy sometimes). He has a wonderful smile. His eyes twinkle when he smiles at me. He's inquisitive. He loves to know about things from people to politics. (I put those in different categories because I love the one and hate the other.) He is interested in people. He wants to know all about them. Secretly he knows how to affirm people, even strangers when he talks with them. He is fun. When we play games with family, he is outrageous leading us all to laugh until we nearly fall off the couch. He's a great preacher, a bright leader, a lover of history, a family man. I like the way he holds my hand.

As I sit here alone on the first floor listening to Country Western music and watching the sun rise as I write, I realize just how much of God is everywhere. That may not be grammatically correct but you get the point. You are here and there and everywhere. I don't have to search for you. I just get to walk around inside you, listening to your heartbeat, watching you move toward your children. I hear you laugh and weep all at the same time. I see your artistry, know your work, am blown away by your spirit. Who would not want this kind of life?

Great Lover of Humankind,
do you hear
the applause
of your children?
Do you take joy
in our conscious awareness
of the Divine?
Do you find hope
in us
while we trudge
life's walkways
offering prayer
as we go?
Do you take
great delight
in your children
who discover you
and get so excited?
Receive the song
on our lips,
the joy
in our bellies,
the dance
of our feet,
the thanksgiving
on our minds,
the hope
in our hearts,
the sacred language
in our souls
and the love
in our spirits.
It's all yours.

Love, Andrea

Monday, April 28, 2008

Dearest God,

For a period of time my home will become a retreat center, a place of intentional sacred living. I have already decided its name - House of Blessing. I intend to move from room to room to offer a prayer of blessing for each room. I want to pray at the threshold of my entryway for each person who will step through the door. I want my home to become a place of transformation, a safe haven where persons will open themselves to the transformative power of your living spirit.

The thought of this "becoming" for persons and for my home gives me a sense of inner joy. My home will become mainly a place of silence where your voice will have space to speak. Opening myself to this way of living will keep your spirit on the forefront of my mind where I will reckon with the fact that you are present.

I intend to place objects of your affection in each room, a symbol of your presence, a book, a blessing bowl, a communion chalice, angel cards, items that will stretch the spiritual imagination. I will offer simple exercises to guide seekers along their pilgrim path toward deeper faith and spiritual enlightenment. Time to sit, rest, or walk through the contemplative garden will offer opportunity to drink in your spirit, to let go of unnecessary anxiety or worry. A hammock under the River Birch trees will provide space to rest, reflect and contemplate.

As I wander through my home, I will acknowledge the gift of your blessed presence. I will offer my own prayers of thanksgiving and petition for all who will come. I will help to soften the hardships persons carry within them. I will aid in strengthening faith that will become larger than a simple spot in the heart and mind. I will enter into a season of preparation in order to help facilitate the gentle activity of your spirit. I will listen to your spirit as I engage this new opportunity to walk with you and others.

A spiritual mentor told me in 1989 that someday I would have my own retreat center. I just remembered that the other day after I had decided to open my home to pilgrims. I wonder what it all means.

I know
this is a work
of your spirit.
I know
that you have
a plan.
I know.
Guide me
in your way.
Guide me
in my home.
Guide me
in my leading.
Guide me,
O God,
O Christ,
O Spirit,
guide me
in love.

I live to bless you, Andrea

Sunday, April 27, 2008

My dearest God,

In the mountain desert a few months ago I acquired several books regarding the monastic life. I began reading, "Finding Sanctuary." Sanctuary refers to the place in which you and I meet. This kind of sanctuary is not limited to the church sanctuary. It is anywhere you and I tarry for a while. Sanctuary is that holy space where the mysteries of God unfold.

The author talks about praying constantly, the aim being "keeping the memory of God alive in your heart at every moment of the day and night." This is my own goal, living with you every second of every day, being aware of your constant presence, living like you are with me wherever I am. My mindfulness of you challenges me to a level of living that causes me to consider my words, my thoughts and attitudes. Are my words holy? Do they give the air of holiness? Are my words impeccable, a gift to God and to the universe? Or are my words something else?

If I am to consider being present to you every second of every day, then my life will naturally chart a new course. My words will be pure and holy. I will be intentional to be in the state of prayer. I will carry within me the attitudes of God, the mind of Christ, the love of the Spirit. I will walk the path of the sacred every day. I will not fear.

This is not the state of perfection. I cannot attain perfection; however, I can honestly, openly and intentionally seek to be in a condition of relationship every moment, a holy relationship with the One who gives my life meaning, purpose, challenge, hope, faith, joy, peace, comfort, mercy and grace. In my relationship with you, I experience all these many times every day. This one relationship gives more meaning to my life than any other relationship in which I am a part. This is not to say I do not find much meaning in my relationships with my spouse, children, grandchildren, other members of my family, the church and special friends. I just experience more with you. My relationship with you inspires me to dig deeper trenches of faith that will touch every other relationship I share.

Keeping your memory alive buoys me. It challenges me. It gives me joy and peace and hope. Walking with your memory in every part of my life, yes every part, gives me the feel of a life of joy and hope. It deepens my daily experience of life. What it means to be human becomes more of how the human can become more and more like the One we are to imitate.

I do not hold visions of grandeur. I am not looking for that, however, at times when I touch the holy, I feel the grandeur of God. And I always know where it comes from. I cannot manufacture such a thing. I do not own that kind of power. It is God, you who holds the universe in place, you who breathes holy air upon the human experience, you who creates inner joy and peace, you who gives guidance, you who gives love its deepest meaning. It is you.

As I continue my reading, my greatest hope is that I will be drawn more and more to your well of living water where I will constantly and faithfully replenish my supply. And in quenching my thirst, my prayers will become more authentic, timely, beautiful, and full of love for you and my neighbor.

Great Holy Parent,
I enter
your life
purposefully,
intentionally.
I am aware
of the majesty
of your existence.
I am conscious
of your presence.
This awareness,
this consciousness
keeps me
in my place.
Here
I do not play God.
Here
I acknowledge
that I am not God.
I am, however,
your playmate,
a friend
and sojourner
who always seeks
your relationship.
May my experience
of sanctuary
be a blessing
to you.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, April 26, 2008

My dearest God,

I practically laid on the ground trying to capture the awesome beauty of a majestic pink and red tulip, a purple and white pansy, a yellow miniature daffodil. The flowers are gorgeous this year. The pinks and purples, the yellows and whites, the reds and pinks stand out among the green grass and trees. They stand tall in all their radiant beauty. It's as though they have waited for a long time to rise up, to open their delicate petals to the glorious sun, to their majestic Creator. And as the breeze blows upon them, they go with the flow, allowing the wind to make them dance.

It is springtime, the moment in history when all things come to life again. Everything that was hidden beneath the soil has broken through the crusty ground ready to show their stuff, to offer themselves as a sign of your creative power.

I love this season so full of life. I love each surprise that rises up. I acknowledge once again that you make all things new. The tired stems and petals of autumn have fallen away to make room for the new. Spring is singing and dancing new life.

God of the refreshing new,
I sit at the base
of your operations,
smiling at the flowers.
I watch them open,
allowing their petals
to be wide,
vulnerable, fragile,
yet courageous
to do what
they have been designed
to do.
They cause me
to give praise,
to sing and dance myself.
I too am experiencing
spring's renewing power.
When I enjoy
the beauty of your spirit
all around me,
I too want
to sing and dance.
I want
the wind of your spirit
to blow upon me too.
I want to be flexible,
allowing you to move me
in any direction.
Let me be as trusting
as the delicate flowers.

Loving you always, Andrea

Friday, April 25, 2008

Dearest God,

She's about seven years old. One of the sweetest little girls I know. As she joined her cousins up front to sing "Jesus Loves Me" she looked up at me and said, "Rev. Andrea, thank you so much for coming down." That was reason enough for me being there.

I was supposed to be on a covenant retreat but had to return for a memorial service for a former member. I was already tired and the thought of driving back was taxing. I knew I wouldn't get the rest and refreshment I needed. But I wanted to minister to the family so I agreed to do the service.

This little gal has had her share of pain. But she always has something beautiful to say to me when she accompanies her parents to church. She is one of your blessed little ones.

The little ones of the world are looking to us to make the way clear for them. They are relying on us to show them the way, to model faith, to be an example of love in the world. They are watching us, expecting so much from us because they need us.

We need them too. They cut to the core to say what needs saying. No hidden messages or coded conversation. They simply say what they mean and mean what they say. They are innocent, pure. They haven't been tainted by the media's message to be a particular way, dress a particular way, speak a particular way, own particular products made by the producers, etc. They are your beloved little ones.

Oh how I wish we could stay this way, to live authentic lives, living the way you intended. But somewhere along the way, we pick up messages that aren't good for us. We pick up a life that is less than what you want. And when we begin to talk in circles, hiding the truth even from ourselves, we run amuk. We forget how we once were and we don't know how to return to former days before the world got hold of us.

Make us again.
Put us back
into our mother's womb
so we can begin again.
Instill within us
the desire and ability
to remain pure and innocent.
Renew our minds
with the purity
of your spirit.
Make our souls ripe
for your word,
the word of love and grace,
of mercy and compassion.
Make every word
a word of hope,
a word of love,
a word of faith.
Let nothing
pass through our lips
that would not speak
beauty into the cosmos.
Make us
like little children
who are taught
to say thank you
and please.
Return us
to former days
when we were grateful
by nature.
We looked with awe
into the cosmic scene
and liked what
we saw.
Make us like
the little girl,
pure, innocent, and grateful.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Dear God,

I hurt someone. I was careless, unthinking. I hurt someone. When I was told what I had done, I realized how thoughtless I had been, insensitive. I hurt someone.

Thoughtless actions can never be retrieved. What I have done is what I have done. Recorded in the annals of time. I can never take it back although I tried.

I recognize that at times when I am preoccupied with many tasks and responsibilities, concerns and deadlines, I compromise my ability to handle matters sensitively, to attend to others' needs, to actively listen. I hurt others.

Forgiving God,
I hurt
one of your children.
My desire
not to hurt someone
did not stop me
from hurting them.
Pour healing ointment,
I pray.
Ease the suffering
of your little one.
I am sorry.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Dear God,

We sat there in my study, pausing, thinking, reflecting, wondering about God, faith, blind trust, and hope. We all stood together under a canopy of light, a divine light that always shines when people are seeking the sacred path to understanding. We listened for your voice in the midst of our own.

Reaching greater depths of faith with friends must be life's greater goal. Stretching the boundaries, visiting foreign spiritual places, putting a toe out into unknown arenas is risky, scary. Yet, it's what we are all doing in your name.

We are gently examining the life of Mother Teresa, the great saint of the poor. We are looking for signs of entrance into a deep life lived in love with Jesus. She is leading us to him and we are following.

As I am being lead into the corridors where I have not always been comfortable going with others, I realize my own responsibility to share what I have learned at your feet. When I asked someone recently about an experience I had, I was told that most people aren't even aware that such experiences exist. One dear friend told me that I see and experience things that most people never see and experience. On one hand I was shocked. On the other hand I wondered about myself. I'm neither better nor worse than anyone else. I'm certainly no more special than any other human on the planet. I don't question the fact that you have visited me so many times. That would be a waste of my thought. I know my experiences are real and have come from your hand. I'm not even asking why. I sit with them, carry them with me, share them as the situation arises to do so.

At this time in my life I feel safe to share these glorious experiences. Even if others minimize, trivialize, or don't understand, it's okay. It doesn't change anything inside me. I remain who I am in love with the God who creates me anew every day. A new day has dawned.

We come
by ourselves.
We come
together.
We come
wondering,
questioning,
watching,
expecting,
sometimes afraid,
sometimes in awe,
sometimes unsure.
But we come.
For one reason only.
You called.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Dear God,

I visited humanity today. I began at the monastery with a friend. The sisters singing like angels. I spoke with one of our student interns, a young man with such promise. Wants to do his ph D. And then I went to Riley Hospital. Saw babies and children, signs of cancer, disfiguration, illness. Laughed over coffee with my daughter. Talked to a friend in Florida whose wife is in the hospital and very ill. Went to the apartment complex with the church. Met a 10 year old boy. Been in ten schools in four years. Sat on a landscaping stone with a sick friend while the sun began to set in the west. Later in my kitchen my husband shared ideas for a new school.

I visited humanity today. So many emotions running through me. Ran the gamut.

I saw you too. Everywhere. At the monastery, in the church, at the hospital, on the phone, at the apartment, by the stone, in the kitchen.

On the streets,
inside the house,
at places of worship,
in the hearts
of your people,
you were there.

Love, Andrea

Monday, April 21, 2008

Dearest God,

The sweet smell of incense still lingers in the air. Thoughts of the retreat remain with us. Insights, revelation, presence, hope, truth, joy still exist.

Memories, sweet memories of your closeness, those moments of peace continue to feed the soul. Twenty one women still carrying around the faith they picked up during the retreat weekend. What more could one ask?

How difficult it was to write the retreat; yet, your spirit came off the pages. Women, ready, hungry for your spirit opened themselves to the depths of faith and were not disappointed. The mystery of invisibility becoming visible.

I saw the light of Christ beaming on each face. I saw it again today when I listened to retreatants talk about the weekend. With such sharing there could be a revolution of faith, a love that could take over the world.

A long time ago I came to the awareness that retreat is not just about getting together for a good time. It is not just about being in a small group. It is not just about spiritual exercises. It's not even about pickles (oh, how we do love those dill pickles with cream cheese and dried beef). It's not about singing or praying or walking in silence. It's not about a girls' school becoming a retreat center. It is about your presence, your presence only and willing spirits and hearts. The combination together sets the earth on a collision course where love will collide with faith melding the two together like nothing else can.

Women walk away changed in some part of their life. They carry the change home to their families. They walk in hope. They are courageous, willing to risk something of themselves. They know what they carry is of great value. They are not willing to let it go; in fact sometimes they let it run rampant within them. This causes a chain reaction of love-trust-faith-spirit-mystery-transcendence. It all returns to love, pure love, yours.

We carry
your spirit.
You give us
your spirit.
You allow us
to carry
your spirit.
We carry it
to one another.
We stop along
our life's journey
to hand over
some of that spirit
to someone else
hungry, thirsty
for something more.
We are water carriers;
we carry living water.
We carry spiritual food,
food that feeds
a hungry spirit,
water that nourishes,
quenches the thirst.
We carry
your spirit
to one another.
Retreatants,
carriers of your
spirit.

Loving you always, Andrea

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Dear God,

We sat in a large circle, the altar in the center. Our balloons were balled up together under the altar table. A scrabble game filled with impeccable words of love, life, trust, song, God...sat in the middle. A tall white taper candle burned as the elements of communion rested on the table. We sang together, "Guide My Feet...while I run this race." Sweet harmonies rose into the air filling the room.

And then we began to share. An array of spirit happenings were offered up like sweet incense. New friendships, reassurance, peace, hope, comfort, encouragement, care, prayers offered on our behalf, affirmations and support, love from small groups, and so much more were lifted up to you, Majestic God. All these, your miracle work. Tears of joy flowed as we opened our mouths and lifted our praise. Even the birds sang songs in the courtyard, recognizing the One whose has given us all life.

These women are among the most beautiful women in the world. Why? Because these women are serious about faith, spiritual growth, walking the Christian path leading to joy, peace and service. They are open, recognizing that life is more than shopping, beauty, work, self aggrandizement, sports and any other form of entertainment. They want to make beautiful the world in which they live, the small circles of influence of family, friends, co-workers, neighbors and strangers. They are intentional. They gather as the church to mutually support each other in the common journey of faith.

We blessed one another with hugs as we bid each other goodbye. Packing up the boxes of supplies, materials, and books, I realized we were packing away the spirit memories to share any time we wanted.

We love you, Lord
and we lift our voice.
Our voices of praise
and thanksgiving,
of celebration,
of awe and majesty.
We are one together
because we are the church
the beloved of God,
enriching our lives
with faith and spirit,
hope and peace,
power and energy
for the journey.
We are yours,
Lord,
we are yours.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Dear God,

I stood just to the right of the towering cross with the resurrected Christ. I looked forward. I could see the entrance to the sanctuary, lighted votives lining the way, encircling the baptistry where we had stood moments before stirring the water, renewing our baptism, blessing the hands, heart, and feet of our neighbor. I saw the women retreatants seated in chairs normally used by the Roman Catholic nuns who worship daily at the retreat center.

I watched as one woman after another stood before the altar just below the steps of the chancel, selecting beautiful ceramic African beads to symbolize the two greatest things they needed from you in order to move forward in their desire to live a full, free life. The music stirring my soul, I observed how the women carried the two beads to the altar, handing them to a sister soul who strung them on the cord with the clay beads representing courage, freedom and hope they had made earlier in the day and then placing the necklace around their neck. I witnessed the hug they shared and the smile on their faces as they walked toward me for prayer. I held each one in my arms as I whispered a prayer of freedom, light and love.

All I wanted to do the whole time was dance. My feet moved and my body swayed at times, my whole body wanting to erupt in dance at such a glorious moment, giving thanks to you for your work in our lives during the retreat.

The lighting was such that each woman's face was aglow as she neared the cross of Christ. Something had happened in each one, an insight, a hope, forgiveness, an unexpected gift, a revelation, a lightening of the load of burdens. You and I saw the radiance together. We knew there was only one to be thanked. You were the giver of every gift.

As we stepped into the conference room following our worship experience, a party celebration awaited us. A confetti cake with every woman's name on it representing a "birth" day for each one, we lifted our clear, plastic wine glasses with sparkling grape juice to toast the God of the Universe, to you, our dear God to give thanks and praise for our experience.

As I entered my own bedroom for the night, I whispered my gratitude.

Who could ever care
so much,
Great and Gracious God?
Your love
extends so far,
reaching 'round
touching each one.
We are blessed,
so very blessed.
And full,
full of you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, April 18, 2008

Dearest God,

Some things can't be shared with just anyone. Close, intimate thoughts of life need to be carefully offered to those with whom one can trust.

The five of us sat in a gazebo adjacent to the motherhouse. We had gone through the spiritual exercises and now was the time to share. We went through the reflection questions openly and honestly.

I shared an incident in my life that occurred more than 10 years ago. Not happy with my body image at the time I did not honor my own body. When I learned I had breast cancer, I had to remedy my body self hatred. I spoke to my own breast before it was sacrificed to save my life. Tears streamed my face just hours before my mastectomy. I had to come to terms with the fact that my body was made with your hands.

In the gazebo I acknowledged the need to make my words impeccable, positive words that contribute not only to my own well being, but also positive words to add to the universe. We all recalled the need to reduce the world's emotional poison that leads to hatred, bitterness, resentment, and violence.

I felt the sting of ten years earlier. At the same time I recognized the healing that has occurred through those years, amazing healing not only of my own body, mind, and soul but also of my family. I let go of my guilt and gave thanks once again of your gracious mercy to me.

Taking off our masks with one another, sharing in your light, and praying with one another felt good, we all agreed.

The breeze
of your spirit
blew upon us.
The warmth
of your love
encircled us.
We were safe
with you,
ourselves
and one another.

Gratefully, Andrea

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Dear God,

Very few people have a chance to lie in bed with a laptop computer on their lap, looking out a third story retreat center window at a long line of blooming trees overlooking a field. What a phenomenal sight just as the sun was rising in the east. This is home to Roman Catholic nuns, women who have given themselves to you in service and hospitality.

This holy place has been home to many women whom I have guided on retreat. They have found respite from the storms of life. They have discovered a well of water designed to quench their thirst. They have uncovered ways that faith interjects a word of hope in the midst of the vicissitudes of life. They have known meaning and purpose through a variety of exercises. They have reveled in the joys of friendship and shared fragile secrets in trust with the Creator. They have surrendered old belief systems about themselves and God. They have carved out a new way of being and adopted new beliefs. They have breathed in light, leaving darkness to dissipate in the air. They have cried out their long-overdue tears and laughed in the spirit at themselves. They have worshipped your in so many ways. They have danced in joy and spilled confetti at our celebration. They have experienced a lavish love poured from heaven.

This is our home together, home because we have been so warmly welcomed. Together because we are a community, sisters who cherish one another, buoy one another, affirm and support one another, cheer one another on in taking a step forward in faith and growth.

As I lie here in bed, I realize how close you are, Creator God. I can see, smell, taste, feel and hear you. Your glory abounds here.

Wondrous God,
you are ever making
all things new.
Like clay
in your hands,
we allow ourselves
to be reshaped,
your spirit renewing us.
In quiet solitude
I smile,
remembering
and giving thanks.

Loving you always, Andrea

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Dearest God,

Laughter is a cleanser of the soul. Sometimes I laugh so hard, I can feel my liver jiggling!

I have a reputation for being a klutz. At least that’s what my children call me. I’ve had a pencil stuck in my toe, a cross that fell on me and I skidded on the only grape on the floor at Kroger’s. To save a forest, I patted a fire down with dirt and my bare hands. (It all occurred when we were burning our sins, little slips of paper with our sins written on them, and one of our youth blew into the fire.) I had to go to the hospital because my hand and arm were swelling. I stumbled on a tiny rock in the church parking lot, fell and broke my foot in three places. I could go on, but you know me already.

Tonight I didn’t injure myself, but while pulling a fan down from the closet, I got my blouse button stuck in the fan. I tugged and pulled, trying to free myself. I was desperate because I had to go to the bathroom. Finally, I just had to go to the bathroom holding the fan. All the time I mumbled to myself, “I’m going to the bathroom holding a fan. I’m going to the bathroom holding a fan.” I was laughing so hard trying to care of matters that tears streamed down my face.

Minutes later I was freed from my fan when a friend was able to move the button sideways and push it back through, But not, of course, until she and her friend had laughed their heads off first. Just minutes earlier we had laughed about my grape incident. When I appeared at the door stuck to a fan, they guffawed, probably disrupting the peaceful sleep of the residents on the floor.

If there were any cobwebs on my soul, they were shaken. They couldn’t have hung on during the hysteria. I’m clean as a whistle now.

Life’s little situations can be opportunities for disappointment, disgust, anger and more. But sometimes, sometimes laughter is the best medicine. You have given me the capacity at times to laugh at myself. I can be a very funny person especially when I get myself into crazy situations. And when I start laughing, I can cause a whole room to erupt into laughter.

Tonight’s situation reminded me once again that life is not about being upset when things don’t go my way. It is about taking life as it comes, being willing to go with the flow, to stop, smell the flowers and ponder how it is that crazy things happen. And be thankful for the ability to laugh…really hard!

God of surprises,
you never cease
to amaze me.
You do
throw a wrench
into my life
on occasion
and I am certain
that you sit back,
waiting
to see
what I will do,
how I will react.
When I become
way too serious
about life,
you throw in
a grape, a cross,
a pebble, a fan,
and you say
to me,
“Lighten up, Sweetie.
I’ve got things
under control."
And so I laugh
at myself,
real hard sometimes
and I realize
how close
you are.
And I give thanks.

Loving you, Andrea

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

My dearest God,

The majestic dark gray cross rose up nearly to the rafters in a great cathedral ceiling. A white cloth wrapping its cross bars, I felt small, like a child. I was at the foot of the cross, we all were, all 560 of us ministers across Indiana.

A version of John Wesley stepped into the center aisle and challenged our faith and spiritual practices. Everyone seated knew this was not John Wesley but he may as well have been because he was so life like, his words so stirring.

So that when we were offered the opportunity to come to the altar to renew our baptism with shells and water, we all came. Not with a look of responsibility, but with a refreshment that we all sorely needed. Seated at the first seat on the center aisle in the second row, I watched them come, saw their faces as they walked away still holding on to their shell. We all walked away with a sign of Jesus, water in the form of a cross, hands washed clean, heads baptized with the living water of God. I simply washed my lips, wanting only to release words of faith, of beauty and trust, of love for you and my neighbor at home and abroad. We sang and sang and sang as we waited in the long lines for this cleansing exercise.

Simply satisfied to sit alone without extending myself, I realized this crowd of weary souls was my spiritual family. Every one of them. They serve the church, the people. They heard you call out and they answered with a yes. Some were terribly battle weary, having faced the trials of humanity, some have labored in jails bringing a word of hope to the captives. All have stood at the bedside helping families say goodbye. They have listened to the torment of couples anguishing over their children captivated by drugs. They have wept when the church turned in on itself, failing to see you in their midst. They have prayed uncountable times and lifted your living word off the page to spiritually starving people. These are my brothers and sisters, servants to your church.

I was asked to be a small group facilitator, trying to help clergy find connection with each other. With a sheet full of questions that would lead us to one another, I simply shared briefly my own life experience with my covenant group. I told them how this small group of spiritual friends along with a convent of faithful nuns have saved my life so many times, how through my own cancer, the cancer of my daughter and the estrangement of another, through church trials, family issues, and other various health issues, one man and a handful of women have buoyed me up, challenging me to dig deeper into a rock hard faith, softened only by the spirit, and loving me unconditionally.

That was the door that swung open. Four out of ten had shown up, just the number God had deemed good for our group. One man had testicular cancer, then two recurrences and a bone marrow transplant. Another man's wife had thyroid cancer and then a year later colon cancer. She's still in difficult treatment. The other man had prostate cancer a year ago and now his wife is battling pancreatic cancer. My own breast cancer rounded our group. We simply talked about cancer, our feelings, our faith, our difficulties. Our connection.

Having had to leave the two-day conference for a church meeting, I returned at 9:00 p.m. for a Taize service. Walking into the quiet chapel, so many candles burning in the front, I rested in a pew, being transported to a little town in a beautiful, lush valley in south central France, home to a community called Taize. The rich harmonic music was the melody of the world's people singing together in each other's language, all crying out for peace and harmony. For an hour we listened to the prayers, the words of John 14, and we sang. As we exited, we carried the peace of Christ into our cars and returned home.

I drove quietly all the way home, remembering, reflecting, contemplating the day's events, God-With-Us.

Glorious Everlasting God,
you reach out
to your children,
washing us clean,
soothing our weary souls,
offering words of hope,
of peace, compassion, and love.
Like the psalmist,
you restore our soul.
You feed us
from the banquet table,
food that lasts
until eternity.
And you revive us,
equipping us once again
to step out on faith,
to reach our neighbor,
to extend love.

Gratefully, Andrea

Monday, April 14, 2008

Dear God,

I see what you are doing! You have drawn the net of doubt higher. When a doubt rises within me, I have barely a distance to go before I hit faith. No black hole here!

How much you revealed yourself at church yesterday. People coming back to worship from vacation, two new couples telling me how much they loved the church and how they would be back, a beautiful testimony, a good spirit, and the retreat men coming in late to join us for worship. And then later another good man agreed to give a faith testimony next Sunday and my two co-horts in crime wrote the two day workshops for the retreat later in the afternoon.

I am always amazed but never shocked by all your attention to detail. You really care, don't you? I mean REALLY! You show it again and again. Your love for your church is especially moving to me. In our ups and downs you remind us that you are in charge, that your love for your church transcends all our love for it. I am so joyous to see it.

This week will be a test to my stamina. A two day conference, facilitating two workshops, preparing and facilitating two retreat experiences the rest of the week. I hope my flock got the memo that no hospitalizations or deaths were allowed this week. Yet, this is your work. I simply follow you wherever you lead.

Standing in your shadow
makes me realize
the wonder
of this thing
called faith.
I cannot step outside
of you.
I am captured forever.
I choose to play,
to live,
to learn,
to listen,
to follow
all the days
of my life.
And giving praise
to you,
writing these letters
of love
brings great delight
to my soul.
Blessings to you,
my Beloved.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, April 13, 2008

My dearest God,

In fear, in confusion, in doubt, in frustration you come to us, bringing comfort, hope, peace and rest. Who else would care so much?

Computer problems, deadlines, work staring me in the face, a sermon to prepare, expectations grabbed at me attempting to rob me of every bit of peace within my soul. I tried to maintain my peace all the while watching things happen that I could not control.

With a sermon swirling in my head, I got up this morning realizing my hours of sleep were few and I knew that I had so much work ahead of me today. But as I sat in front of my computer, I prayed deliberately and passionately asking you to help me trust you for the day.

And it all came to me. I simply typed it. The music, my favorite music that rarely plays because my boom box is dying, played in the background, a symphonic sound of heaven, calming my restless soul, making the words come. And I knew you were here.with me.

Who is ever alone in their difficulty? No amount of turmoil can stop the heavenly visitation. When you choose to come, you come bringing with you love and peace and compassion and faith. I find such sweet peace in you, such aid in my distress, such compassion and peace.

In the middle of putting the finishing touches on my sermon, I simply left my desk and began to dance to the music, that kind of sacred dance that is designed for your alone. I felt your wondrous spirit and my dance was intended to say thank you.

Although I still had much ahead of me, I drove out the driveway with my sermon in hand and peace in my soul.

Glory and more glory,
that's what
I want to give you.
Glory.
You are deserving
of all the glory
I can possess
to give you.
Thank you
for your visitation,
for your love
and your peace.

Love always, Andrea

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Dear God,

The day dawned beautiful. My daffodils stood tall and straight reaching for the sky. And so did my little crocus leaves, no flowers left because the rabbits took great delight in eating them.

The sunshine warmed not only my skin but also my soul. A lot of gray, cool, and rainy days have taken its toll. I sat outside with friends feeling the gentle breeze of springtime.

The seasonal changes are good for me. I have discovered the beauty in every season. I no longer complain about the current season wishing for another season to come. I sit still in the season present and I count the many blessings in it.

One time during a particularly long winter, I counted the spectacular, unique snowflakes as they fell on my windshield. I could hardly believe the array of varying sizes and shapes all coming from the clouds. So enamoured with the flakes, I stood outside in the parking lot raising my arms up, my palms open watching with great delight as the tiny whites puddled in my hands. I smiled, praying my thanksgiving.

Springtime brings new birth to my soul. Having crossed the desert in Lent and felt the aridity of dry ground, I revel in the tender shoots of new growth. The soil of my heart has been prepared again to receive the seed that will magically, mystically grow to some new height. I sit still allowing the waterfall of living water to spill all over me and I play like a child with a squirting hose on a hot, sticky summer day.

This morning I sit in wonder.

Holy of Holies,
Great Master of All,
King of Kings,
Lavish God,
thank you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, April 11, 2008

My dearest God,

I believe we live more and more in mystery. It seems just a few decades ago we could count on fairly predictable endings. In the movies the guy always won the girl in the end. Predictable.

But today so little seems predictable. With a world of choices from ice cream to marriage, it seems difficult to get a solid grounding. It's hard to nail anything down. And I think in some ways it's detrimental to our health, every level of health. Anxiety, worry, fear seem to be those things that we can count on. Everybody is worried about something.

Yet, having said that, I realize that there is some benefit to all the craziness. It can bring us knocking at your door. We want to have value and meaning in life. We want to know that our life is making some mark on history. We like to think that our offering will leave some permanence behind.

We live in the "middle" of things, not so far over there or over here but rather in the middle of things. Sometimes it feels as though we never reach our destination, whatever or wherever that is. Like the lunchmeat in the sandwich we know we have some importance but we're never quite sure what we're connected to, linked with, supported by.

But it is in the midst of all this that I gather all the pieces of myself and camp at your doorstep. And while sitting there with nothing else I can do, I wait quietly, silently, patiently. One cannot hurry divine mystery.

I know for certain that there is great value in waiting. With one focus I listen for the creak of the divine door opening. I rally all my emotional forces for the opportunity for yet another peak at the Sacred. I know the lesson that awaits me will draw me once again to your feet. I make sense of life here. The ah ha moments make me laugh, a holy laughter when once again I see the majesty of God. The very fact that I am even considered to be a part of this holy unfolding is wild to my imagination. And for those moments I learn a challenging lesson, I am humbled, realizing I have yet to reach my fullest spiritual potential.

Settling my restless heart and mind so that I may see the grand design of my life, my church's life, my life with my family, but more importantly your design for all humanity reminds me that I am not ultimately in charge. My struggle for power and control will gain me nothing but heartache and sorrow. And that is the lesson. I sit at God's feet, not the other way around.

Holy Master of the Cosmos,
my yearnings
for you
define
the most of me.
All else
seems like dust.
Yet, I live in the middle
and I wish
to be content
here.
Patient,
willing to wait
for your
slight gesture
toward me.
I pray
for the willingness
to live out
the divine plan,
to follow
your leading,
to walk the path,
to care for those
along the way.
Who am I
to try to take charge?
Waiting and listening,
I discover
more of you.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Dearest God,

We began our trek together. We heaved on our backpacks filled with beliefs, prayers, hope, and faith. We carefully moved to the black hole and one by one we began to descend. When it got really dark, we turned on our head lamps so we could see our way clear.

The place looked familiar. We've all been in this hole before. Know all the feelings associated with it. Helplessness, despair, loneliness, fear, abandonment, on and on. Scary place.

As we went deeper, we hit rock bottom. In fact we all climbed into the bottom together, one group of black hole explorers. But then a strange thing happened. We saw a shaft of light and it wasn't the artificial light of our head gear. This illuminous light was different.

I saw a ladder, one that goes up and one that goes down. A means of transportation. We can go down but we can also go up. The black hole is not a permanent place. Well, maybe it is for some. But the ladder is fixed on the side, therefore, it is always available, accessible. If we must go in the hole, there is a permanent way to exit.

The ladder is you, isn't it? You give us the means by which to escape the black hole. We don't have to permanently reside there. We can leave when we want to, permission not needed.

We entered the hole last night. We looked around, discussed our feelings, then we climbed back out. An engaging experience.

What we discovered
is that you reside
in the black hole.
The hole is black
because we forget
that your light
is white.
We assume
there is no light.
We assume
that all is lost,
dark and lonely.
We assume
that we shall die here.
But not so,
you stay with us
until we decide
to climb out.
And what fun
to discover you
as well
waiting for us
at the top.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Dear God,

I have come to the conclusion that it is possible to be living and dying at the same time. There are parts of my life that are coming under the knife, unkind thoughts, fears, insensitivities, doubts. But there are also signs of life...new birth in sharing spiritual experiences, opening up to deeper avenues of faith, trusting you more and more.

Trusting you to release those things in me that are extraneous, unnecessary, burdensome at the same time being open to the new coming to life...the process can be stressful and/or life giving. Stepping onto paths that I've never traveled, yet feel the pull of the spirit are allowing me to travel light, recognizing new truths, insights and revelation.

Keeping the balance during this time is where my trust in you really comes. If I die too much too quickly, I can feel as though I am truly dying. I could become too preoccupied with death. On the other hand, as I give myself more and more to new birth, I might feel as if I am giving away too much of my self, the self who has lived within me for a long, long time. Placing my feet on the solid ground of faith, while reaching for the spirit is insurance that I will make it through this process with my eyes wide open, watching change occur without fear, and feeling an inner joy that the process is one of spiritual photosynthesis.

Each day that goes by I recognize this interactive relationship I have with you. It is not just believing in a set doctrine, nor is it just an understanding of being a Christian. It is more, so much more. It is a daily livingness, of seeking and finding, of letting go and grabbing hold. It is the sacred, the sacramental union of moving with and inside the spirit, releasing myself to you, to trust in you so much that I am willing to bob on the living water, without a sense of needing to control the way I bob. In fact I put my arms outward to the side, no way trying to protect myself because I intuitively know the water is safe, although not totally known.

I breathe in and out, breathe in trust, breathe out untrust, breathe in light, breathe out darkness, breathe in faith, breathe out fear. You and I.

What wondrous lessons
I learn
at your feet.
I first learn
that I am
in your presence,
not you in mine.
That way
the focus
is on you,
not me.
I learn
that I am always riding
on the waves
of faith,
not on conditional beliefs
I have adopted
for myself.
I learn
that you really
want me
to so deeply trust you
that I will
not allow
unknown buoys
to frighten me.
I learn
that I am not alone
in this forever changing environment.
I am with you
and there are others
around me
bobbing in the waters
along side.
I didn't know
when I came
into this world
all that I would learn
about living daily
with you.

Aaahhh, Andrea

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Dearest God,

Thank you God for daffodils blooming, for warm sunshine upon my face, for beaming grandchildren, for a psychological breakthrough for a friend, for new members joining our church, for a beautiful contemplative garden, for finding the lost kangaroo from my Noah's Ark (second animal found in my pond - I think one of my grandchildren threw them in there), for music that causes my spirit to soar, for the article on my Carmelite sisters, for my niece and her family who will move nearby, for my friend recovering from radiation therapy, for cottage cheese (I just love cottage cheese), for the cardinals who call my garden "home," for my patio and screened in porch all setup waiting for us to enjoy picnics, reading, and silence, for the honor of my pictures appearing in two national magazines, for the beautiful letter from Lilly affirming the church's and my renewal... These are just some of the things for which I am grateful.

I recognize that life is about blessing you for many gifts given. My day begins with a prayer of gratitude, ends the same way. What happens in between is the stuff that inspires me to be grateful. I am always on the lookout for signs of your presence, for gifts from your hands, for help in difficulty, for precious moments of guidance and direction, for love given and forgiveness imparted. I am never disappointed and always reminded that all good things come from you.

I live a life of gratitude. Why? Because I am very sensitive to what happens around me and to me. I realize I have little power to orchestrate events that change people's lives. Yet, I know it when I see it.

Each day I go about my business doing my work at church and home. I awaken to a beautiful home that keeps me warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I have food in my refrigerator and clothes to wear. I have a beautiful garden adjacent to my patio and birds that enjoy it as much as I. I have family more and more uniting with one another, recovering from a schism that took places years ago. I have grandchildren spilling over. I have money to pay my bills. I have a church in which to do ministry, people seeking you, grace abounding. I have friends. All these...gifts from God.

My heart overflows
with praise.
Daily I see
signs of your coming.
Prints all around.
I know
you are the source
of it all.
I give thanks
to the Wonder of All Wonders.
My heart overflows
with praise.

Love, Andrea

Monday, April 7, 2008

Dear God,

I was so tired after working so many days in a row, nearly a month without a day off. And in the last couple of weeks when I wasn't working at church, I was working in my garden, yard, and home. So my body was weary. After mopping the floor and putting the kitchen back in order after two worship services and a long meeting, I dropped into bed. How comfortable and warm I felt all snuggled inside my covers.

That was when I heard the sound of grandchildren. Three to be exact on spring break. Coming from Syracuse they came into my bedroom and gave me hugs. Within minutes the bed was piled with kids. We put on the movie Winn-Dixie and watched it together as their dad and granddad took a long walk. At one point I looked at the piling. We were all on just half the bed. Sarah was next to me on my right. Jacob was using my knee as a pillow and Rachel was next to Jacob. I was so close to the edge of the bed, I thought I was going to fall off.

To be wrapped up in grandchildren is one of your great gifts.

I had to smile
when I looked
all around.
A granddaughter here
and another one there,
a grandson
on my knee.
How grand
your scheme,
grandchildren.

Thanking you, Andrea

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Dear God,

Sometimes the path toward God reveals scary things, an odd twist in the road, an unusual sighting, a dark hidden something. Getting closer and closer can bring fear. Standing face to face with fear is uncomfortable, disconcerting, just plain scary. Some get stopped right there, never go any further. Fear becomes a daily enemy. Waking to fear and going to sleep with it becomes routine.

For some fear is a way of life, running scared from anything that smacks of change. The unstable ground releases fear into one's mind leaving the thought that fear is all there is. The blackness of fear can leave one in the abyss for a very long time, even forever.

But what is faith if not a fear lifter? What is faith if not the power by which to climb out of the hole victoriously? What is faith if not the means by which to walk on by, continuing the journey reminding one's self that sometimes we encounter unpleasant and scary things along the road? Fear is not the end of the road, just a bump along the way.

Faith is refined in the bumps and potholes of life. It is there while laying on our backside that we are forced to look up. The sun is still shining. Clouds are still lifting toward the sky. The breezes are blowing. There may be an occasional gray/black cloud that will hang around, but not long in the face of faith.

The rising up of fear within is always a cautionary signal that something is afoot. But more importantly, it is a call to faith, faith that has within itself everything necessary to face the fear, deal with it, then move on. There are many more scenes to view, more beauty around the corner. The road is never straight but faith is.

What is faith if not the gift of God for anything that scares us?

I'm on a
faith journey,
not a journey
toward fear.
My faith
can battle
any fear
that comes along
because
faith is forged
while I am afraid.
For
faith
always
bring me
to you.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Dear God,

Sometimes we just have to let go. The time comes when our strong hold on something must be released.

Our beloved Carmelites are leaving. They have sold their building to the Archdiocese who will house a seminary. It will remain holy ground. We are grateful.

Twenty years. It has been twenty years that we have lived with our dear sisters. Every Wednesday my car drove itself, knew the way, longed to see them. First view brought a sigh of contentment, peace every Wednesday.

When they announced their move, I could not help my eyes from flooding with tears. Where will we go to hear the angels sing, notes not even written on the page? Whose home will be as loving, as solidly faithful? Where will we find the peace?

These nine women will leave in the next few weeks. They will join the Franciscan sisters in Oldenburg. They will cluster once again in prayer...for the rest of their lives.

I have never known such love. Even when intruders were beating the oldest member, she prayed aloud for him. They have prayed for every member of my family and my church. They saw me through cancer, my daughter's cancer, my parents' death. They ushered me to heaven at the loss of my daughter and her return 13 years later. Every significant moment in my history in those 20 years the sisters have been a part.

On Wednesday my covenant group stood talking outside when a woman who has been going there every Wednesday for 26 years asked if we were interested in forming a car pool to drive down to Oldenburg once a month. Tears glistened in her eyes. I offered to hold a gathering at my church for the community of people who have been participating in Carmel for years. We could take a look at the needs of the community, then determine what we might put together.

Although I feel the sadness and loss, my spirit is filled with spiritual DNA from Carmel. I have been threaded with them for the rest of my own days. When they leave, their spirit inside me will not leave with them. It will remain here.

I wanted to tell Grace (the woman standing with us) that we must let them go. But she was not ready to hear those words. Too painful.

My heart is filled with gratitude, gratitude for gifts beyond measure. What would my life have been like without them, their love and prayerful support, their laughter and joyful ways? How much different would my spirit have been had I not been introduced to such a deeply embedded spiritual life?

Although I cried for several hours the other day, I acknowledge that I must live without them. I will pray for them as I know they will pray for all of us who they are leaving behind. Like Mary, Jesus' mom, I will continue to ponder the wonders of our life together. I will celebrate the wondrous gift I have been given. With all my might, I will continue my spirit walk although our paths will diverge in a short time. I will carry their faces, their spirits, their love and friendship, their extraordinary faith with me all my days.

I have known their value to my life since day one so I have no regrets. I have carried them inside me all these years and I have allowed their spirituality to teach me.

On Christmas Eve 1997 while carrying a cancerous tumor in my breast they offered me the real presence of Jesus. Instead of eating and drinking the symbols of Christ's presence, I opted for the real thing. I took a step inside Christ and realized I only wanted to eat and drink of him. How could I want anything less?

And Mary, Mary the mother of God. How I have come to love her. As a Protestant look at her all these years, I could never understand the fascination of Catholics. Yet, as I lived and breathed the liturgy of the saints, Mary came to me and perhaps at one point saved my sad life.

How can I ever express my deepest gratitude to women who came quietly into my life, who allowed me space to worship, to pray, to confess, to weep my sorrows and share my celebrations? Easy. I live as I have learned to live with a deep sense of the spirit of the livingness of God every single day. The Spirit pulsates within me. I feel its breath upon me. Gratitude is living the life of faith intentionally. It is giving time for silence to speak its profound message within my life. It is letting love lead.

The inner realm
of the spirit
is mighty and gentle
at the same time.
Its beauty
is scattered
all around.
One has only
to tap into it
to live a new life.
I am nothing special,
never have been worthy
of all I have gained.
Yet, I know
the belovedness
of the Spirit
who drew me in,
filling me with grace.
My sisters and I
are one together.
We shall always be
part and parcel
of one another,
the Spirit
threading us
together.
Make my life,
O Master,
a sign of your spirit,
I pray.

Gratefully, Andrea

Friday, April 4, 2008

My dearest God,

I love walking down the steps to my study in the early morning hours. I like writing while it is still dark outside. But I also love walking back upstairs when the day is dawning. It's like a new surprise each day.

I stepped outside onto my front porch to lean against the post. Although gray and rainy, I listened to the birds sing, watched one bird move around just feet away, and I breathed in the heavy moist air. The ground is loving all this rain. Greening up, it is coming to life again. Yet another wondrous surprise.

Every day has so many surprises waiting. At the precipitous moment, a flower will open, a tree will bud, a biker will ride by (like this morning), rain will fall, the sun will shine, a child will laugh, joy will sing, faith will blossom, an insight will come, peace will stir, hope will come to life.

I choose to live my life believing in surprises. Surprises of God to be revealed at just the right time. My life at this moment could be changed in a few seconds with just one surprise. Just like walking up the steps and seeing the dawn unfold brings a smile to my face.

I don't rely on these surprises to make my faith strong. I just revel in them, like a child with a new toy. The fact that they do enrich and strengthen my faith is another act of God in my life. Yesterday's surprises are enough, why would I ask for more? I don't have to have more to have faith. I have faith because I believe in you. I walk with you daily. All the rest is cherries on top of the hot fudge sundae.

Each day that emerges is yet another day soon to be over. I watch with anticipation your surprises, evidence of your loving presence. And even if evil befalls me, I stumble over an obstacle, I don't get what I long for, I still know with great confidence that this day is all I get and I want to live it well. I want to be intentional with you. I want to walk in the same cadence as you. I want to sing the same song as you, dance the same dance.

Glorious God,
all praise
belongs to you.
If it were not so,
I would not draw
yet another breath.
Everything I have
is because
you are God.
And all
that I do not possess
is because
you are God.
The sweetness
of your grace
touches my life,
a new surprise
every day.
Oh how I love you.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Dear God,

I find myself often saying, "You are..." You are the Source of life. You are the Great Healer. You are Joy. You are Gracious. You are Love. You are... These proclamations of my faith remind me that I continue to be a tiny speck on the planet, yet a beloved one. I know who is boss, who is running the cosmos. And it's not me.

More and more I acknowledge that life is not all about me, not any one human. So often we operate as if the planet is to bow at our feet, provide an answer to many of our nonsense prayers, and make our lives easier. For what purpose? You do not exist for me. I exist for you. I am to fulfill your plan, not the other way around. The greatest inner joy does not come from doing what I want, but rather from doing what I believe is your will. No amount of my own success can well up enough joy to outdo the joy I feel when I simply do as you ask.

I am currently reading Eat, Pray, Love, the story of one troubled woman on a search for God. She ate her way through Italy for four months and loved it. Now in India for four months she resides at an ashram learning the disciplines of life. Silence, prayer, meditation. Through what she calls stillness she is discovering the power of God in her own life. What a dramatic shift from the ways in which she had lived for nearly 34 years.

I am aware that a life lived with intentionality is one that will find the Sacred. One that will discover the secret treasures of the universe. One that will open the locked rooms of the heart and soul. One that will ultimately sigh with peaceful joy on the last day.

You are!
You are!
You are!
What more
shall I say?
You are!
The secret treasures
of life
bring so much joy
to my existence.
I learn more
of the truth
of your spirit.
I see its power,
observe its love,
benefit by
its grace.
You are,
O God,
you are!

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

My dear God,

Opening doors. I think I have come to the conclusion that ministry is about opening doors. Doors that have been locked for a long time. Doors that have been chained. Doors that are stuck. Doors that are falling off their hinges. Doors that could be swinging open.

I think there are a lot of closed doors in the world. Doors closed to keep us safe, or so we think. Doors that have been permanently shut are doors that hide secrets or keep us from growing. What lingers behind closed doors?

As I assist people in opening doors, I see the signs of a new beginning. Open doors can provide the means by which the past can finally be released, the future welcomed in. Open doors can bring sunshine to a dark and ominous past. Open doors can lead to wondrous new places where the familiar has to step aside for a new unfamiliar adventure. Open doors can lead to a new level of faith and peace, hope too.

Last November on the desert mountain, I opened a door to you. Of course, you helped me because I could never have swung it open without you. The bitterness that had been jammed behind my closed door was released, let go, surrendered. The space left empty by the bitterness was so huge a cavern that I have been inviting the new into its place. A deeper kind of joy, a more hopeful faith, a lighter, airy disposition have all gained space inside.

Some doors are scary. Approaching these doors takes energy and trust. I know that every door must certainly be opened at some point so your light can warm or clean, or provide an entry for a new life.

I remember on my renewal I took a lot of pictures of closed doors. Beautiful, old doors. I have always had an interest in doors. In fact I could do a series of notecards on doors alone. Perhaps my interest has been piqued because I know there are great surprises behind the doors. On my journey and so many journeys before you have opened doors to me, doors that lead me to renewal, hope, trust and joy. And I will never forget the awesome beauty.

Open every door,
dear God,
every door
that is closed
to you.
Open the doors
of my heart,
my soul and spirit,
my mind.
Make an entryway
for you.
Open me
to your ways,
your thoughts,
your purpose.
Make my life
an open door,
one that leads
to devotion,
purity,
and love.
Who knows
what I will find?

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Dearest God,

Awakening to an ongoing prayer, I heard my own words, "Keep my eyes toward heaven and my feet grounded on earth." Rooted and grounded with a heavenly view. My prayer for myself.

Balance, an equal balance of living on earth while keeping an eye toward heaven. I take what I learn from heaven and live my life on my piece of the planet. I find my hope for the journey in the heavenly places which is not just up, but all around.

On occasion I have to open my closet to see what I am keeping for myself. Am I hoarding enthusiasm, hope, joy, faith, blessings and purpose? Am I keeping under wraps all my gifts from heaven?

I realize that any gift held on too long in the company of one person soon rots, dissolves, getting caught up in the wind, disappearing from view. I know the truth of sharing what I've been given.

Because I receive so much from you, a heavenly visitation of love or grace, an act of mercy and compassion, or guidance in a difficult situation, I have so much to give. When I offer such gifts back, I realize I am simply giving back what has been given me, only with a simple twist and turn because of what I have done with the gift. And what about all the others who temporarily held the gift? What about their gift to the gift? By the time I receive it, it is not only your gift, O God, it has within it the prayers of many others. Adding my own prayer I release it, allowing it to go with the wind of the spirit to someone else. What a beautiful thought! Grace, pure grace!

Gift-giving God,
recyling love
must surely be
the greatest gift
on earth.
Participating
in your
divine plan
is my life's
greatest wonder.
Who could
want more?
I do lift
my eyes
to heaven.
I feel
the ground
beneath my feet
and I know
we are united
you and I.
But then
I am also united
with all those
around me.
We are meant
to travel together
on the planet.
Yet our guidance
and direction
comes from you,
Most Worthy of Grace.
Your thoughts
become mine
as I listen
to you,
really listen
and my heart rejoices.

Loving you always, Andrea