Thursday, July 30, 2009

My dear God,

The CD began playing "Seek Ye First." "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness," the song goes, "and all these things shall be added unto you..." I love this song but more than that I believe its message. Seek God first before all else. Seek God before asking for daily bread. Seek God first before the new car, the cool outfit, the latest technology, a relationship, money, even life goals.

As the music played, a question came into my mind. What do I look like when I seek God first? How do I look? What do I do when I seek you first? An image appeared before me. I smiled. What emerged in the forefront of my mind was a picture of me dancing before you. Unencumbered, liberated, clean and pure, joyous, grace and forgiveness free-flowing, beauty, and goodness. I liked this look. Why don't I wear this beautiful righteousness more often?

The next thought that came to me was nothing but words: layerings, coverings, masks, wrappings. Of course, all the things I put on myself to keep from revealing to the world who I really am. How many masks do I wear? I guess it depends on what role I am playing...mother, pastor, friend, sinner or saint. What coverings do I wear? Well, maybe those are the images I want people to see. What are the wrappings? I wrap myself in security, playing it safe. I don't want to appear frightened or lost. And the layerings, what are those? They are the buffers that keep me from being hurt. Daily I put on these things all in an effort to keep from being fully known. I'm certainly not the only one. I see the same things in others, especially those in great need of keeping their true identity a secret or at the least a mystery.

All these burdensome things I wear are heavy and cumbersome. Walking through the day keeping everything in place, not allowing a crack to show is a real challenge. If I am not very careful, someone might catch a glimpse of the real me I think to myself. Probably the truth is no one really wants to know who I am at the deepest level because they don't want to be exposed either. When in the presence of a real self, there is an unspoken pressure for others to be revealed. So we work hard to keep this neat and tidy image before those around us. Imagining a picture of millions of people walking the planet wearing all their stuff is funny to think about. A cartoonist should illustrate it to show how silly we look. However, not wearing our safety gear is risky, making us feel extremely vulnerable.

But then I go back to the simple image of me dancing for you. When my heart is right and yearning for you alone, when I lay down every sin, fear and doubt at your feet, when I pick up hope and grace, my load is lightened. I am free to dance for as long as you want me to dance. I smile because I am freed up from wearing the strange garb, carrying the weight, and playing the game. I am light as a feather dancing on the breath of God.

Weight-lifting God,
the real me
is all
you ever see.
The truth
is revealed,
exposed to
the heavens.
I can't
kid you
or myself.
You know
it all.
Strengthen my
inner core
inspiring me
to follow you,
to be humble
and obedient.
As I
allow you
to lay claim
on all
that I am,
I am
no longer distracted
by the whims
and desires
of the world.
I only
have to
answer to you.
Cleanse me
from within
and from without.
Search me
and find
if there
are any
threatening temptations.
For all
I want
in life
is to
be faithful
to you
and your will
for my life.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Dearest God,

I held a rosary in my hands, my right hand holding the crucifix. I prayed, "O Lord, let the power of this cross leap from my hand to my heart and spirit." I wondered in my mind, "Can this really happen?" And then words began coming like a flash flood. What is the value of a symbol if it does not convey the power of what it represents?

My life lesson today is to trust in this power to overcome. My trials are not a test to my faith but rather to my ability to trust. Am I worthy of this God who knows my life journey? My difficulties are not about whether God can be trusted but rather about my own trustworthiness.

Every trial teaches me more about Christ, about faith. As I find myself in a rocking boat during stormy weather, the waves rising higher and higher, am I prepared to ride the waves knowing my destiny is tied with Christ's desire to ride them with me? A rocking boat tossed up and down, side to side is the greatest opportunity to show my trustworthiness. When the storm passes and I find that I have held on, weathered the storm, then I prove my faith is real, forged through trials where I put every resource to full use. Has Christ provided everything I needed for the ride? Absolutely! Am I ready for the test that will show my faith?

I have known Christ in the storm for he has been with me. Together we have withstood every threatening force. We have faced the storm. We have practiced our faith. We have shown our trust. We have trusted; we have overcome. We have conquered every power that has threatened to destroy us. And together we have shouted for joy!

What a privilege to be able to use every resource at my disposal. I have so many tools at my fingertips: bravery, courage, hope, compassion, mercy, love, determination, endurance and perseverance. I have the ability to see through the lens of faith. I get to see through the eyes of Christ. I get to use the raw courage exposed on the cross. I am enabled to trust ever more deeply.

When dark clouds begin to gather and I know a storm is brewing, I have time to prepare. I gather my resources, drinking from the well of living water, eating from the heavenly banquet table. I am able to muster my courage, not just my own but also the courage that strengthened Christ to walk the road of death, hope and love.

When I breathe in the life storm, I am breathing the breath of Christ, an air that is pure and holy. I am invigorated by all that is God. Not only am I enabled to pray for myself, I am empowered to pray for the storm itself, for those who have created the storm, for the power behind the storm. I am infused with a heavy-duty reminder that storms will have their day, for you have allowed storms to roll in. But then they are gone, rolling back out to sea. When the gray gives way to blue skies, I am able to give my report. Only then am I able to sing: "It is Well with my Soul, Amazing Grace, and How Great Thou Art." After the storm clouds have lost their threatening power, at the end, the glorious end, I take a new look at myself. Have I been faithful to the challenge? Have I cried out: "Christ is my strength, my power, my courage, my hope, my love, my joy?"

After the storm I am stronger, more joy-filled. I know the trust it takes to believe and proclaim, “My grace is sufficient for thee.” I have an opportunity to rid myself of any residual resentment for the storm because the storm gives me the chance to reveal my faith and love for Christ. Not only am I stronger and more joy-filled, I am more open, more faithful, more compassionate, and more trusting not in myself but in the One whose death on a cross has been victorious one more time!!!

Life situations will always come, tilting my world. Gray clouds will threaten, rain will fall, lightning will strike; the skies will rumble showing its muscle. And I will be tempted to be afraid, to hide from the storm. But as quickly as the temptation gives rise to fear, faith will emerge to fight for me. And what is this faith if not the power of the cross, revealing a life-long relationship with Christ?

Faith can be with me for just a split second or for longer, a minute, an hour, an afternoon. Or it can take up permanent residence in my bare-bones soul. When I trust, really trust in Christ, he remains as close as my breath. When my trust gives way to fear, I move away from this divine source. I can’t see his face or hear his voice. The sound of choppy waters makes my faith seem so far away. When I suddenly hear my own whining because life just got hard, I kick into gear and resume my trust in this rescuing savior. I feel him near once again and trust returns.

My battles are not over. Some have ended; some are just beginning. But the conflict is not just my own. Christ is in the battle with me. And faith is alive, its source in the wonders of heaven.

O God,
Lord of heaven
and earth,
you have instilled
within every one
of us
the ability
to rise
to the occasion
of trust
and faith.
You have
armed us
with every tool
of heaven.
You fill us
not just
with tools
but with
your very self.
When we are
filled with you,
we are united
in a way
that gives
incredible strength,
lively determination,
and enormous perseverance.
What can
we finally say?
We allow
your spirit
within us
to cry out
in acclamation,
"Holy Lamb
of God,
to you
is due
all praise
both now
and forever.
Hallelujah!

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Dear God,

For the most part I believe in the best in people. I believe we are capable of rising to the occasion to being our best. I believe being our best is what you desire for our lives.

But the truth is we are also capable of the worst and everything in between. We can lower ourselves to the basement, the lowest level. We can adopt an attitude that we have the best coming to us while we treat people the worst. In such a case we act from the bottom rather than the top. It's a lot like a dirty card game. We want everyone else to play fairly while we slip cards from the bottom of the deck.

I've often wondered why certain people think the world owes them something. Now for those who have faced unbelievable hardship, I can understand how and why such persons can have a distorted view of life. Why wouldn't they? However, such thinking will never lead to peace, justice, hope or compassion. In fact persons who've faced untold pain will never have enough because all they get "by hook and by crook" will never satisfy the aching hunger.

But for those for whom life has treated them well, I really can't understand the sense of entitlement. Life is not just about soothing our own soul. Don't we have a responsibility to each other? Don't we owe each other more?

I simply don't understand the concept of entitlement. If we all operate this way, then one day we will simply fight to the end and whoever is left will be left standing alone. And then with whom will we share our "good" news?

O God,
the world
is for
all of us,
not just
for some
of us.
Help us
look beyond
our own skin
to see
our brother,
our sister.
Teach us
the way
of compassion,
of grace
and mercy.
Etch in
our minds
the way
of Christ.

Love, Andrea

Monday, July 27, 2009

Dear God,

Leaving things in your hands will eventually change things. Sometimes I want to bolt, charge forward to do something. I want to make things happen. If there is a plan, I want to fulfill it. If there is something to do, I want to do it. When there is a long lull, I can grow weary, discouraged, impatient. But when I leave things in your hands, things happen when they should.

Trusting your time is a challenge for me. Trusting you in all things is my life's greatest challenge. To be able to live in spirit time is to trust you completely.

I remember my clergy renewal leave. My covenant group of three flew to France. There we planned to visit the saints, St. Bernadette, St. Therese and Brother Roger. We planned to travel from Paris to Lourdes, from Lourdes to Taize, from Taize to Lisieux, from Lisieux back to Paris.

For twenty one years our covenant group has existed to answer one question: "Where is Christ in your life right now?" No matter the situation, good, bad, or anything in between, each one of us has to answer this query as we share. Trusting God to reveal the answer is to acknowledge that God indeed lives in our lives every day in every situation. Our challenge is to seek to uncover your abiding presence.

When we arrived in France, a train strike was taking place. We didn't know if the train would run one day or not. So we determined from the beginning that you would lead the pilgrimage, not us. We would gather together each morning and tell you we were ready for the day's venture. We would literally walk to the street corner and be lead where to go next. Not only did we feel lead, we did not even try to push each other with our own desire and plan. Whenever a "problem" arose, we counted it a blessing, an angel kiss. We smiled and trusted. We did not consider it a problem at all. After all, we were not on a vacation. We were not interested in seeing all the sights, running all day to see as much as we could. We simply trusted you to guide us, to open us to the wonders of your creation. We were on a treasure hunt, seeking to discover your holy presence. By trusting you completely our journey was an amazing pilgrimage of love, grace, holiness, discipline, and joy.

When we gathered together two months later as my leave ended, we shared the wondrous moments of trusting you and one another. No conflict, no frustration, no disappointment. Trusting you to lead us to things we could never have imagined grew our faith, our love for you, and our appreciation for one another. Riding on the wings of angels gave opportunities to see much more than we planned because we kept our eyes on heaven where change begins.

Glorious God,
when life
seems stagnant,
when things
are not moving,
those are times
when you are
asking your children
to trust you.
Sometimes you just
have to get
our attention.
Sometimes you
have something
you want
to change.
Maybe it is
our situation,
maybe it is
our heart.
Maybe it is
someone else
related to us.
Trusting you
in the middle
of every situation
is not only
a spiritual discipline;
it is
an act
of spiritual love.

Love always, Andrea

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Dear God,

One of my favorite scriptures comes from Jesus: "You will know the truth and the truth will set you free." Truth is not only a revealer; it gives hope. To lean on truth is to set the record straight. Truth calls us to a higher level of living. Truth is a spiritual discipline. We tell the truth because God is watching, knows the truth and holds us accountable. We are truthful because truth secures the heart. Anything less than the truth holds us captive. Inside ourselves we carry discomfort, fearing that someone might know the truth, reveal it, exposing us to the world.

There is something to be said for being honest. The judge will ask us for the truth. We take an oath to share "the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God." To fudge even a little is to lie, to alter the truth, to be dishonest.

Getting caught in a lie is scary. We feel afraid, fearing the world will know we are a liar. Sometimes we need to know the truth of ourselves. We need you to reveal who we are, what we are about. When we lose our way, we can exaggerate our story, massage the truth and even lie. We can live a life of deceit hoping we can keep our story straight so others will never know the truth. But God knows it. When we lie to ourselves, we also lie to God.

What I have learned through this difficult time in my life is that sometimes all I have is the truth. At times I don't think it is enough; yet, when I stand before the Great Judge, I have to account for myself. I can't hem haw around; I must be honest or found guilty of lying. When I am truthful, God allows my heart to feel peace. I know I have my honor. I do not have to be afraid.

Thank you
for truth
that sets
us free.
Thank you
for liberation
that rights wrongs.
Thank you
for truth
that down deep
just feels good.
Thank you
for truth
that makes us
stand tall.
Let truth
always lead
the way,
dear God,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Dearest God,

Waiting, O Lord, I am in the season of waiting. I am not moving forward as quickly as I would like. I could go backward but what is gained by returning to yesterday? So I am waiting.

Many of my life experiences have come after a period of waiting. I waited for nine months for my babies and that was after waiting to become pregnant. I waited fifteen years to become an ordained minister. I've waited for healing, for courage and strength to rise up. I waited.

Waiting is a trusting time. It is not about sitting still but rather about trusting you while things are not yet clear, while there is no visible direction. Waiting is a time to reflect, to examine life, to watch and to listen, to be humble and obedient.

Waiting provides a time to draw close to you, to count my blessings, to ask for your help. It allows me the opportunity to grow patience. In a garden a seed is planted; water, sun and time grow the garden until the full blossom appears. You planted a seed in me; your plan is the seed. I am simply waiting for the fruition of your plan. Living water, grace, and time will produce the fruit.

Your own mother
watched and waited
for the
divine, ordained time.
She looked
to heaven
knowing with a
quiet heart
that your plan
was greater
than her own.
She trusted you.
May I learn
from Mother Mary
to have
a waiting heart.

Love, Andrea

Friday, July 24, 2009

Dearest God,

The lesson I am learning is to be flexible, go with the flow, make minor adjustments, let go of the stress, walk on. I thought I had to have a home to live in, my own home. But what is home really but a state of mind, a condition of the soul, a peaceful serenity wherever you find yourself. I thought I had to have all my clothes but I learned I could live with five casual outfits and two Sunday outfits. After all, who wears more than one at a time? I thought I needed to watch my own flowers break through the ground, grow, blossom and bloom. But there are flowers all over. I've just watched your garden grow. I thought I needed more than I really did.

In difficult situations one can wither and die, become angry and strike out, or take the road of heaven where God fills the cracks and leads the way. In my lifetime I've done all three. However, these days away from my home, I am learning to trust you. I am savoring moments of faith, of simply joys, serendipitous moments with my family from siblings to children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, an uncle and aunt. Right now they are my home. They offer what home provides: love, stability, acceptance, joy, support, affirmation and hope.

When my world was turned upside down, I had to make a decision whether to lie down in the muck and die or rise up and trust. The time I spent in the muck was not pleasant. My tears blended with the muck. Day after day the sky turned darker and darker. Nighttime demons haunted me. I was ready to give in to the darkness. In fact I said aloud, "I have lost my hope." But as quickly as I gave up, your voice sang from heaven. "I have a plan for you that is unfulfilled. Heaven's voice was what I needed. I sprang up from my bed of nails. I wiped off the muck and started living again.

Going with
the spiritual flow
of life
makes life easier.
What has been
taken away
is not near
as great
as what
has been given.
Trust can come
when all
seems lost.
In fact
it is sweeter.
Loss opens doors
to gratitude
for what
one has,
even the
most simple
basic things
of life.
I am blessed.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Dearest God,

I prayed, "O Lord, let forgiveness weave itself through my body as I sleep." Forgiveness is not easy; it is a hard task when the heart has been wounded, when the mind has to finally accept a painful truth, when the spirit has to begin living a new way. Oh dear, it is so difficult.

But forgiveness is also freeing. All the pent-up emotions can be released, erasing the hardships of life. Forgiveness is the way out of darkness. It is the path to healing and wholeness. Forgiveness opens the curtains, shades and windows in a darkened room. Forgiveness reduces the burdensome weight that is being daily carried. Forgiveness cleanses the soul of unwanted, unnecessary crap that keeps the whole person unsettled, unresolved, and troubled. Forgiveness stills the troubled heart, unleashing a new wave of peace and serenity. Forgiveness offers a deep breath of hope.

I hold on to the hurts and disappointments of the past. Instant replays are nothing new to me. I see the scene, the players, the words, gestures and suffering that follows. Why do I do it?

I think of the alternative. Let go, surrender, release, move on, walk away, be finished. Not only do I have to leave the scenario behind, I have to let go of the person. Not always but after more times of sorrow than can be counted, the time comes when moving on is the only way. But what happens when the person is someone you have loved for a long time, how do you walk away forever?

Bitterness can
be crippling;
it slowly hardens
a soft heart.
It is hard
to forgive.
Do you
find it difficult
to forgive me?
Do you
shake your head
remembering all
my transgressions?
Forgiveness is the
sweet scent
of grace.
Help me,
I pray,
walk on alone
practicing forgiveness
along the way.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Dear God,

Sometimes an impulse of gratitude will charge me to do something; oftentimes it is simply a gesture of love. It may strike me at a grocery store, at church, in my home, at the hospital, in the car, in nature, all kinds of places. Often my arms slowly rise upward in the form of prayer.

Gratitude is a condition of the heart, soul and mind. It is a feeling, an emotion, a scene, a belief that something good, something insightful or illuminating is/has touched a life. It may be caused by a magnificent sunrise, the smile of a child, a couple holding hands, an answer to prayer, a healing, hope arising out of ashes, an unexpected grace, one person giving to another, someone helping a person in need, a ministry that is changing lives, a sudden joy. Any and all of these happen every day. When I gaze upon such a scene, my heart is inspired. I feel life is good, not only for me but for the world. I see a loving landscape where it appears that love is being lived out, not just for one person but for many. And I am led to offer my thanksgiving.

What I have discovered is when my daily life experience is filled with difficulty, when the way looks dismal and threatening, when storms comes, when the light appears to give way to the darkness, these are the moments when I am greatly challenged to look around, to explore the deeper dimensions of life, to watch and wait for sudden sightings of the sacred. I have learned that your holy presence is still being revealed. In these time swatches my heart is warmed, my spirit is renewed. For a moment in time everything else stops and all I can see is you. Tears naturally form in my eyes. And I lift my arms in praise.

Especially these last weeks of my life have been hard, difficult, filled with emotion. Some things I simply can't get my mind around. I have had to surrender each day, giving into your hands whatever it is that has plagued me. And part of this surrender has included opening myself to the divine action in human history. Life is not all about me. The world has not stopped because I am hurting. The best way for me to live during these arduous times is to study the skies, the earth, its creatures. In other words I look at life around me. When I am able to move beyond my teeny world, I can see creation at its finest. I can observe the ways in which you are moving in space all around me. Your love is evident; your compassion is being offered; your mercy is being felt. The strength of heaven is entering your children giving courage and faith. I am inspired.

One such moment happened to me. I had been given the privilege of helping a couple. After I left I felt some of my own darkness lift. I drove into a hospital parking lot at dusk. A misty rain was falling from swollen gray clouds. I put on my signature song, "As a Deer Pants", opened my car door wide, stepped out of my car onto the pavement and I danced. I danced my gratitude, my heartfelt thanks for your presence invading my own heart. As tears formed melding with the foggy mist, indeed the world was still around me as I offered up my grateful praise. As I ended the dance and climbed back into the car, I felt the moisture on my tender heart. It was like manna that fell upon the Israelites when they were hungry. I was full.

Tender-hearted God,
so full
of grace
and love
for your children,
let gratitude
find a
permanent home
in my heart.
Let me always
be watchful
for the sacred,
for the divine,
for you.
And then
lift my heart
to express
my gratitude
for you
are worthy
to be praised
every moment
of every day.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Dearest God,

Sharing a common burden, each person taking a piece and also giving a piece of hope, encouragement and presence is a gift of heaven. Expecting to walk life's journey alone quite naturally isolates. The world grows small and smaller and smaller until one finds one's self in a trapped box living alone, fearing alone, struggling alone. Hope quickly decays. Faith becomes fragile and thin. Joy dissolves. Mercy is elusive.

But sharing together as an equal circle of friends and/or family, each carrying their weight, sharing their woes, celebrating their victories, challenging one another in matters of faith can relieve the intricate parts of the human soul. It's like raising the blind at first light, like a butterfly climbing out of its cocoon or a chicken pecking at its shell and taking its first step. Even like a rainbow suddenly appearing in a rainy sky when the sun intersects with the rain. It's truly a quiet, glorious moment. Life looks different. New perspectives emerge. Heavy hearts are lightened.

Surely this is your design. You have given us one another. You have made a sense of community better than an individual living life solo. You have created us for each other. Giving and taking in equal proportion provides a balanced life; it makes life easier and really a beautiful fabric. The threads of my life are beautiful because you made them this way, however when my thread combines with the threads of those around me, the fabric is not only beautiful, it is exquisite. The thread of your presence is more visibly present; the golden thread shines with a beauty not available in the human realm. Undoubtedly this is all part of the sacred mystery.

Weave us together,
Grand Designer,
give us
a peek
of your
heavenly design.
Teach us
to reach out
and to grab
the hands
that are
reaching out
to us,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Monday, July 20, 2009

Dear God,

I am incredibly blessed by unexpected serendipities, moments when the divine breaks through to speak, to enlarge a sorrowful place. I found myself in the midst of my extended family, my sister and brother, all three daughters, three nieces, a sister-in-law, a nephew and countless grandchildren, great nieces and nephews. For hours we shared together, remembering, celebrating, sharing, a real love-in. By the end of the day I felt my heart warmed, my soul restoring, my mind embracing the renewed spirit.

It seems to me that a spirit that is open, anticipating a divine presence presenting itself every day is one that will be ready and able to witness not only your presence but your action in human living. We keep faith alive when we honor these daily sightings. And from there more trust is born. The human heart can continue beating; the soul can restore itself; the mind can creatively imagine newness. Life returns in wondrous ways.

What an unexpected joy being loved by my family and returning that love to them. Blessing is in our midst.

Holy Spirit God,
ever enlivening
with your spirit,
I am grateful.
All of me
is declaring
your praise.
You are
the author
of expected
grace, mercy, compassion
and joy.
I owe you
everything.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Dearest God,

Where in God's name does selfishness reside? Is it locked away in the human soul? In the heart or the brain? Why, Lord, be so selfish?

It seems to me that selfishness is a kind of self protection. Wrapping one's self in possessions, attitudes, behaviors or things that surround him or her is a way of keeping the truth covered up. It is a gesture intended to keep people focused on other things. Clinging to "my way" robs the self of a larger heart, soul and mind. In fact it seems to wither all three. An individual with a small heart, soul and mind is a sad person, one who cannot look beyond their own skin. Too much time gazing in the mirror at one's own self can lead to a life of disregard for others.

Selfishness can weave itself through the DNA. It can lock the door to deeper, more meaningful relationships. It can cause the self to reinterpret events and happenings through exaggeration, a massaging of the truth and lies so as to keep one's self image in place, a false image created through need.

Selfishness at the feet of Jesus, your Son, dissolves like pure white snow on a warm day. Everything is revealed and known. The truth is present. Every lie however teeny or great beams like a neon sign. We know ourselves as we really are. All sins are seen. Every need transparent. Our insecurities are uncovered. Only then in your light can we begin to see who we are, who we have become. The beautiful thing is the warmth of your loving grace gives us a renewed chance at life. Our needs can be transformed. We can change.

The other reality that happens is that we also learn more about you. We see your gentle strength. We feel your love. We experience a renewing, restoring power. We know we are not king or queen of our own hill. We know who owns the hill. We discover that we truly are children with our heavenly parent, one who knows us so well, loves us so deeply, wants so much more for us. The discovery of a vital relationship between you and your child, our very own self opens the door to a greater life, one of love, trust, faith, hope, truth, and opportunity.

Dearest God,
let every pinch
of selfishness
in me
disintegrate
in your presence.
Let the truth
be known
to you always.
Give me
a mind
that searches
only for truth,
a heart
that is
always open
to others,
a soul
that delves
into the dark
where deep needs,
insecurities,
hurts and disappointment fester
into something
unbecoming of
your child.
Make me unafraid
willing only
to walk
with you,
to trust you,
to follow you,
to be obedient,
to be my
truest self.

My love, Andrea

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Dear God,

I had planned to attend my 45th high school reunion. Just an hour away I was too weak to drive, to enjoy the festivities so I stayed home. I was sad and very disappointed but health issues wouldn't permit it.

Life lessons come in so many ways. It seems right now I am learning many life lessons all at the same time. I am learning to find the good in the bad, the positive in the negative, the hope in the hopeless. In other words in difficult situations I am learning to trust you. I will never get everything I want. That is the design. What I do receive, however, is something more than I requested. If I can't be with my high school friends, I can spend more time with you. If I want an expression of love, I can receive the most beautiful gestures of love from grandchildren. If I feel hopeless and ask for help, I suddenly am infused with hope that I know comes from a prayer being prayed somewhere in the world. I am told that many people are praying for me. If I can't be at home, then I am challenged to find my home in you.

Life lessons are messages from you. No road is a dead end. No hope is completely destroyed. Even hope can be regenerated. The abyss does have a bottom. At some point the downward spiral ends. Then the only way is up. Even if joy is not momentarily felt, there is a place in every human soul where joy resides. During an unexpected moment joy will burst from the soul.

Since my life goal is to be faithful to you, then I need to live in life lessons. I need to listen more, trust more, live more, hope more. You are the author of life lessons. Teach me to lean toward you, to trust more.

Let every situation
teach me
to trust you.
Let life lessons come.
Teach me
your ways,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Friday, July 17, 2009

Dearest God,

I often long to hear your voice, to let my heart be stilled. Sometimes the voice comes from a child. "I love you, Grandma," my three-year-old granddaughter says to me all bundled in her sleeping bag next to mine. Her sleepy little face is so expressive, so loving. "I love you too," I respond back to her.

Sometimes I look to the sky thinking erroneously that the voice will come from on high. For a long time I longed to hear it from one voice, but it did not come with any authenticity. I have learned to anticipate your voice however and whenever it comes. It may be a child, a voice reading scripture in church, a song being sung, a prayer uttered or a stranger in an unexpected conversation. Your voice does come most often in unexpected ways. The surprise keeps me on my toes in anticipation.

Thank you,
Lord,
for your word.
For every word
of hope,
of encouragement,
of love,
of grace,
compassion and mercy.
Your word
is life
to me.
I am
so grateful.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Dearest God,

As I entered the monastery and took my seat in the spiritual direction room, I took off my shoes. I felt the sacred ground beneath my feet. I drank in the room set apart for your spirit to do your work.

That simple act, taking off my shoes, reminded me that holy ground is where we are when we acknowledge your presence in it. Holy ground, the ground of God, space dedicated to the wondrous workings of your Holy Spirit. Just to enter it is to acknowledge a life of faith, a need for the Sacred Holy.

The minutes of silence help to settle the soul, allowing you to pervade the human soul in ways no one else can. Silence, sitting in your presence, is the one thing we can do to honor you, Lord. To sit before you, to listen to your voice instead of our own, is a way of saying I love you, I give to you my quiet heart. Silence, a gesture of trust, an act of love.

My colleagues serve as your faithful assistants. They are present to be still, to listen, to embody hope and faith. They ask the questions of faith: Where is God, Andrea? Where is Christ right now in your life? Almost always there is a breaking down of the self-imposed facade that projects a false image. Such questions demand honesty. I allow my vulnerability to show. I share my life's challenges, my hurts, my emotional wounds. But more than that, I account for the sightings of the sacred. Nature, scripture, worship, family love, one person helping another, unaccounted for insights, an illumination all reveal to me your incredible presence. So many. I shared each one. I must give thanks to you for my uncanny ability to see the sacred even in the midst of the sorrowful.

As I slipped my shoes back on, I still felt the holy ground on the surface of my feet. I knew that your presence is not limited to a monastery. You are always with us. But when we experience the holy in life then we have the responsibility to carry it with us, to share it in small ways with others. Not to bring import to our own lives but to share the mercy God has given us.

Merciful God,
today I
saw you
once again.
My friends' compassion
was a gift
of heaven.
I learned again
that you
are present
when people
dedicate themselves
to discover
the wonders
of the Holy,
persons who
purposefully sit
at your feet
to listen
for your voice,
to share
the wonders
of heaven.
Shaky and
still bearing
the marks
of suffering,
I breathed in
the air
of hope
as my
friends promised
to also carry
a vision
of hope
for me.
I thought
about it
on the drive
to my daughter's...
four people
carrying a vision
of hope
for me.
Such acts
of grace
fill me
with hope.

Loving you, Andrea

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Dearest God,

Why turn to you, Lord? Why shift from doing our own thing to doing your thing? Faith is the gesture of moving from one's self-centered life to a life open to you.

This world is grand and wondrous, filled with infinite possibilities, scenes to be seen, experiences to be lived, fun to be had. But your world, a far greater expanse, is full to the brim with agape love, grace, wonder, hope, beauty, compassion, mercy, and joy. All these make for a world of community life, acknowledging our responsibility to one another, our privilege of caring for one another. There is no experience more grand than helping another.

Basically we are self-centered individuals, looking out for ourself. We want to feed our own needs and wants. We will do this even when the world's peoples are collapsing from hunger, poverty, and injustice. Often we cannot see beyond our own skin, not even willing to take a peek at others.

But when we turn to you, our world begins to take on new hues, shapes and forms. We are able to burst out of our own skin to see the flesh of our neighbor. We begin to care. Our selfishness can be transformed. We can begin to live compassionate lives offering grace and love; we can become bearers of hope to others.

What is a beautiful life if not one that lives to help others, to aid and assist earth brothers and sisters in their plight? We cannot take responsibility from them; we must acknowledge that they have the right to live their own life. But when they need help, we are present to assist them.

Why would we want to live self-centered lives when we can help to give life to others?

Enter our souls,
Lord,
touch them
with your love.
Give us
a glimmer
of hope
that helps us
care for
one another.
Inspire our hearts
to move beyond
our own skin
so we
may be enabled
to view
the skin
of another.
Teach us
your ways,
O Lord.
Open your world
to us
in our
daily living,
we pray.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Dearest God,

I removed the furniture from the dining room. I put on the sacred music and I danced a goodbye to my beautiful Maine home. I had already written a letter to the house in the guest book I had bought for people to write in when they visited. I loved the privilege of helping to bring it back to life, allowing it to shine its beauty to the neighborhood. I wrote a prayer..."Bless this house, O Lord, this home..."

You make a way to do every hard thing in life. Symbolically, metaphorically, spiritually you point us to a route where we can find our way out, to leave something behind, to let go, to cherish, to celebrate, to move on.

As it is written when a door closes a new entryway is opened. I believe it is your work that makes this possible. Only when we put one foot in front of the other are we enabled to move away to move toward.

A new life is one where we accept the reality of the closed door. We may weep and cry; we may plead and beg, even try to pry the door open. But when the door is closed, it is closed. The only way out is to move toward a new opening.

I imagine it, Lord; I imagine sitting at this closed door for the rest of life. What is the purpose? Daily I can continue to weep but my tears will not cause it to reopen. When you close a door, you close it. There is rhyme and reason to a closed door even if we are not privy to it. We have to trust that door has closed because you have deemed it right to do so.

I think I have been seated at my closed door for a long time. I kept thinking if I would do one more thing, if I would give one more thing, if I would plead one more time, if I would..." Too long, I sat too long. My being seated at that closed door robbed me of opportunities for something better just a little bit beyond my reach; a slight movement and I would have made my way out to a new open door.

Why is it so hard, Lord? Why do we labor needlessly, suffer beyond reason? Why do we hang close to the closed doors in our lives?

A life well-lived is one where our backpacks are always ready. Inside is tucked every item we will need for the journey...trust, hope, faith and, of course, a bottle of living water. It's all that's necessary. A light load makes the pilgrimage easy.

Give me
a pilgrim heart,
O God,
one that beats
in rhythm
with you.
Teach me
to recognize
closed doors
and open entryways.
Inspire me
to leave
closed places
for open spaces.
Teach me
to trust you
always.

Love, Andrea

Monday, July 13, 2009

Dearest God,

How sweet are your words, words spoken with compassionate love. You do see our plight and you do reach into us, calling out our name.

Every day calls for trust, Lord. Trust for breath, for light, for hope, for strength and courage, for faith that renews, restores and revitalizes. What is trust but the flicker of hope from the soul, the simple call of heaven to redeem us? Trust, a rare and beautiful gem.

Who can turn away from you, Lord? Who can reject the light of your grace? Who would not want the spirit's breath breathing life into us?

All the angels and saints join together singing Alleluia to the Lord. Only those who have been rescued from the deep can sing the song of faith. Only those who reach back to the hand reaching out know the redemption of the Living God. Only those who open their mouth to praise know love's deep dimensions.

I sing
heaven's song
when my
own song
is nothing more
than a
broken record
of sad heartache.
I sing
heaven's song
when I
have lost
the words
to my
own song.
I sing
heaven's song
when I've
lost myself,
when my voice
is used
only for weeping.
I sing
heaven's song
when the
angels and saints
invite me
to sing
with them.
Together we sing
creation's most
beautiful song.
Holy and Beautiful,
are you,
God of the Living
and the Dead.
Savior, Redeemer,
Ever-Renewing Creator,
we sing because
nothing draws us close
like heaven's song.
Our voices
blend with heaven's angels
and life begins
to stir again.
Life returns;
we feel
the touch
of the Master
who leads us
in the song.
To you,
Great Life-Giver,
we sing
to your
our heartiest praise.

Love always, Andrea

Sunday, July 12, 2009

My dearest daughter,

Andrea, did you know I gave you your name? You are Andrea, woman of beauty, hope, compassion, courage and love. It brings me delight to share with you.

My child, do you think I don't see your heart? I know more than any what inspires, motivates, and challenges you. I know your sorrows firsthand. I know where your joy comes from.

I saw you at your beginning...a simple cell with promise. I breathed life into you. I called you my own. I whispered to you my promises. I gave you a strong heart because I knew your heart, your love would be tested. I knew that sorrow would enter from time to time. I knew you would feel your heart breaking but I gave you a soul for loving and a foundation so strong that nothing could break or destroy it. The rock on which you stand is none other than my own. Stand on it, my daughter. Stand on me. Raise your head and live.

Have I told you the rules of resurrection? Live, return to death no more, breathe in my spirit, walk in faith. Four simple rules, each one lovingingly held by me. I offer resurrection when I see death stirring. No child of mine goes unnoticed. Live, child, return to death no more, child, breathe in my spirit, child, walk in faith, my beloved daughter.

You cannot see the future, the road ahead, no one can. I designed it that way so that trust would grow in every heart and faith would be borne. Life is so much better that way. Trust and faith will lead you into the future bright with promise.

Lighten your load, leave behind your sorrows. Give them to me. I'll hold them for you. Remember nothing is lost in my hands. Let me carry your burdens. Frankly, I can do it better.

There are a lot of dances to be danced, songs to be sung, smiles to be given, joys to be experienced, hope to be known...all these are inside you, within your reach. I know because I placed them there. Little one, grab hold, let my light lead you to trust. Trust will lead you to faith and faith will lead you to the path. Worry not about the future, simply take the first step with me. I am at the entryway to your future. I am patient; I know my children well.

Grab hold of love that is eternal, love that has no beginning, no end, love that circles round, embraces, entwines. This is my love; there is none like it. I offer it to every child for this love can heal broken hearts, mend nasty wounds, and repair torn and snagged human fabric. My love weaves hope and purpose. Joy will surprise you when you least expect it. Know that it awaits you.

Dance with me,
daughter of light.
Let me
hold you
in my arms.
Let me lead
the dance
for only one
can successfully lead.
Let me
lead you
to wholeness.
My love
is like a
feather blowing
on the wind.
Take hold,
child, take hold.
Take hold
of the gift
of my love.
I will
never withdraw
my love
from you,
not ever.
Daughter,
my daughter,
one more gift...
peace.

Loving you too, God

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Dear God,

As I sat in mass this morning, I wished I had a rosary. Sister Jeanne Marie gave me one several years ago but I don't know where it is. When I start cleaning out my house, perhaps I will find it.

In the evening I returned to the monastery with my friend. As we were walking out to the car after evening prayer, she handed me a gift, a rosary from a sacred healing site. I was so delighted.

The next morning I drove to the ocean to dance. It was a gray, misty day and I knew I didn't have to worry about the sun since I can't be in the sun due to health reasons. As I got out of my car, a woman I had seen at mass one morning, who also had given me a scripture card in the grocery story one day, showed up again. "I never get out this early or walk this way." She told me.

She began to talk about resentment and how she had been dumping resentment all week in mass. She shared how her sewer had backed up in her house and how it had been a metaphor for all the resentment she had held on to for years. She was letting it go. She talked with me for about 30 minutes until the sun started to shine. I told her I only had a few minutes to dance. She smiled and then left.

I danced, lifting my hands in praise, singing out my adoration and then I stood to pray. When I got back to my car, the woman returned. "I want you to have this," she told me, "it came from Jerusalem." She handed me a rosary. I thanked her and then gave her a big hug.

A thought, a need, a desire expressed in church seemed to be a prayer rising to heaven. Although I didn't mention it to anyone, you answered that prayer twice in less than 24 hours. You brought this woman to me three times, every time offering me something I needed. I too was trying to surrender resentment that has been backed up in my own life, robbing me of hope, peace and joy.

Two rosaries lay on my antique desk, gestures of love from heaven.

Heaven's suffering love
touched the depths
of my own
suffering love.
Gazing upon Jesus
on the cross,
I am reminded
of your
great love
for sufferers.

Grateful, so very grateful, Andrea

Friday, July 10, 2009

My dearest God,

I opened the door. The first thing staring back at me was forgiveness. Forgiveness is the entryway to healing. A heart that is full of sorrow has no room for joy. A heart filled with bitterness will only allow bitterness to breed its ugly horror. Why bother to pray for a change if we don't allow what is eating at us to dissipate and die?

I decided today would be the first day of my new life. Day One. I would allow the positive to take place of the negative. I would make a shift in perspective seeing more than what I have allowed myself to see up to this time. I would no longer engage in instant replays of the past that continue to keep despair alive. I would begin the process of allowing sorrow to end, making space for joy.

Transition
always begins
with an ending,
a God-awful ending
that hurts
so much.
The pull
of possibility
for the future
is the work
of your hand.
The tug
is your spirit
crying out
for trust.
We are
not designed
to live
in death forever.
My daughter
has been holding
a vision
of hope
for me.
I asked her
to hold it
because I
could not.
In holding on
to it,
I have found
my way
back to it.
Today another friend
told me
she wanted
to hold
that vision
for me too.
Two women,
a daughter
and a friend
are holding
the vision
of hope
for me.
I will
live into it.

Loving you, Andrea

Thursday, July 9, 2009

My dearest God,

I am home when I click on your site. I feel joy erupt in my veins knowing I am with you. I listen for you, wait for your words to come. I write a letter to you but it is your words that give rise to the letter. With such interplay between us, I know we are deeply connected not as equals but as God to child or God to friend.

I write because I want this deep connection. I want to connect every day at a deep level, knowing that any relationship requires sacrifice, love, trust, faith, time. These moments are among the most prized of the day. I write because I love you.

A door was bolted shut for a long time. What was stored behind the door was beyond my comprehension, my ability to open it. I knew when I opened the door, yes, I know the knob was on my side, the brass slide waiting for me to take hold, a new life would begin. But I could not, would not begin a new life with joy because I so desperately clung to the old with its joys and sorrows, its known, familiar ways. How do you let go of what you have loved so much? How do you walk away and not pay the price for letting go? Why does surrender have to hurt so much? Especially for what, who we love?

I weave threads into the fabric of my being. Once there they are they are there forever. How do you rid the fabric of a thread so beautiful, so part of yourself? How do you do it without cutting the fabric, making a hole so big that everything begins to unravel? When it's part of you, how do you allow its ending to take its rightful place but then draw other threads around it, letting it go?

My time in Maine has been beneficial. I finally had my own space to cry endlessly without interruption. I allowed my heart to feel every pain. I have sobbed the pain of loss. It wasn't until Sunday when I prepared for church that I realized I had not bathed, washed my hair in five days. Those first days I was dying. What need did I have?

But I rose up to be with your family. I allowed the songs of the church, the hymns of faith to speak to me, to profoundly touch and inspire me with your message. I allowed resurrection inside.

As my friend and I talked, I let everything pour out of me. I spoke about the door, the weaving, the thread, the hole. When I told her about the gaping hole, she told me one day far into the future it would close, however slowly. I wept, soft tears streaming down my face. Some holes you want to keep open because you think it's the only way to hold on. And maybe it is, but holes aren't meant to be holes forever because you, O God, are about filling up big holes and small. That's what your love does; it is what faith is about. It is what trust is designed to do. Hope is the invisible thread, a sacred thread so much more beautiful than anything in creation. A jeweled, golden thread, hope mends, repairs, pulls together, draws in, unsnags, renews, brings back color, gives new hues. Working with you it does its creative magic to make something new.

And so I pulled the slide back.

God, Most Holy,
Most Creative,
Beautiful and Loving,
how can you
care so much?
You work
your wonders,
too marvelous
for human imagining.
And one day
we see it,
the wonder,
and we are
SPELLBOUND,
AWESTRUCK.
How is it,
we ask,
that you
can take
dull strands,
the snags,
the rips,
the tears,
the unending ravels
and make something
so glorious
and beautiful?

Gratefully, Andrea

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

My dearest God,

"Reach higher" the voice said to me, "reach higher." Reach higher indeed, reach higher when you find yourself descending downward into despair or hopelessness. Reach higher when tempted to think in destructive ways. Reach higher when dipping downward into bitterness. Reach higher when lost in the past. Reach higher when darkness threatens to blow out the light. Reach higher when feeling misunderstood, forgotten or abandoned. Reach higher.

What is God and faith if a practicing Christian does not anticipate and listen to your voice? What is walking a life in the spirit, being on a constant pilgrimage if not united with Christ? What is religion if not a part of the intrinsic value of human living?

Such questions hearken to me when I find myself moving away, separating from the values of my faith. Not that I am walking away from you, I simply find myself isolating from the deepest part of myself. When I feel trapped by images of the past, of loss, grief and mourning, I find myself weeping tears from such a lonely place.

But I am not left alone. What came to life inside me when I was very young, faith refuses to let me walk the trail of tears alone. It calls me to attention. It reminds me that I am not simply a lonely creature on the planet but rather a woman of faith committed to the truest values of trust, belief and love. Try as I may to walk away, you come after me like the hound of heaven.
My eyes rise to heaven.

In the mass this morning I heard the words of hope, like yesterday's mass and the day before's. The ritual itself draws me into its daily rhythm of faith. This is what love for Christ is about. It is living out of a desire to follow the One who gives Life. It is setting me back on track, like a shepherd's crook draws a lost, trapped lamb, uprighting it, giving it back the ability to scamper into life.

We begin with confession. We ask Mother Mary, the angels and saints, and our brothers and sisters sitting in the pews with us to pray for us. We pray the words together, "I have sinned through what I have done and what I have failed to do. Our voices lift together with one voice as we pray the Lord's Prayer. This centering gesture draws me back each morning. Is there anything more hope-filled with grace than beginning each morning with confession, the need for prayer, listening to your Word, and eating the eucharistic feast?

I cannot move off the path for long when I return in 24 hours to the monastery for worship. This act of grace keeps me hoping. When I allow the daily psalms in my reading to speak to me of enemies, I know we are not talking about people but rather the enemies of doubt, hopelessness, self loathing, forgottenness, feelings of abandonment and rejection. I know my value does not lie in the hands of others but rather from the One who gives me life daily.

As I left the monastery to run an errand, I had someone tap me on the shoulder in the grocery store. "I saw you in mass this morning. You sat in front of me." The woman said. She stretched out her hand to me giving me her name. We talked simple talk. "May I give you a card?" She asked me. I thought it would be a business card but rather it was a business card size white card with a verse watercolor painted on it from Psalm 18.

When I returned home, I opened my bible given to me on my 35th birthday by the love of my life. I read the whole chapter, allowing its message to capture my heart. "You are my defender. The Lord is my Savior; he is my strong fortress." But what meant the most to me came later: "Death pulled its ropes tight around me; the waves of destruction rolled over me. Death pulled its ropes tight around me, and the grave sets its trap for me...The Lord reached down from heaven and took hold of me; he pulled me out of the deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies...The Lord gives me light, my God dispels my darkness. He gives me strength to attack my enemies, the power to overcome their defenses...You, Lord, give me victory over my enemies."

It was not enough to receive the strength of God in worship but rather you gave me a word of faith through a stranger, a woman for whom I prayed in the universal prayer we prayed together as she also prayed for me. Your generosity penetrates every human boundary we set for ourselves as we live in hopelessness and despair. A new kind of tear spilled from my eyes as the hound held me, keeping watch.

Who are you,
Lord,
if not life's
greatest gift?
Who are you
if not the
voice of
great blessing?
Who are you,
if not
love's great center?
I reached higher,
put tape
on the box
and began packing
my books,
an act
of faith itself.
You are
my God;
there is
no other.

My love, Andrea

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Dearest God,

What is the value of faith if it does not call for trust? Faith that arises out of one's own person is shallow, without roots. But faith that comes from the deep, knowing well that God has placed the seed within, has watered, weeded and grown it is faith alive. This faith arises out of trust in you, Gracious Beloved. Trust is the substance like yeast that give the potential for growth. Without it, there is nothing.

And what is resurrection but a rising up from the grave. The grave of hopelessness and death. Sorrow and suffering is death, death of something, someone so close, so deep. But trust is the hand that reaches out, the voice that calls for a rising up. Why continue to lie in the grave, you say, why? Rise up, child, rise up and trust.

Resurrection is not just a living in eternity after human death. It is your offering in human living. It is the gift of new life, arising out of the sorrowing ashes. Resurrection is necessary if life is ever to have meaning and value. Resurrection is trusting you, Lord. It is believing that new life can happen, even to me. It is trusting you to be God and my being the child, turning to you for a new creation.

Resurrection is the stuff of faith. It is knowing God has a plan, a unique plan just for me, a plan yet unfulfilled. It is a belief that you expect us to move and not remain in our brokenness. You take the stuff of who and what we are. You hold this broken vessel, broken pot and somehow in the deepest place you whisper words of love to it. I have loved you, I have loved you, broken pieces of clay. You give meaning to the brokenness and you begin the refashioning process. You do not rid the pot of life experience or all that has given shape to it. Rather you take the cracks of hurt, disappointment, loss and grief and you fill them with yourself. It is you that holds the cracks together. Those pieces that we simply cannot let go of are held in hands so divine and somehow, someway, sometime we recognize the need to surrender. I say to you I cannot manage the brokenness and so I have to release it into your capable hands. That is the first moment of resurrection, trust and faith.

I danced
in the cold
early morning.
Shivering on
the outside,
my insides
cried out
for you,
Living God.
You called me
from death
to resurrection,
from lack
of trust
to trust,
from self doing
to faith.
As the sun
began to rise,
the Son
of faith
called out
to me
alone at the
water's edge.
Child, child,
let go,
surrender to me,
release your sorrow
into my hands.
As the sky
began to turn pink,
and the sun
promised its rising,
so did my
soul rise up.
I am
reaching for
resurrection
because you have
called me
to it.
I can
only pray
that I will
spend more time
each day
living in resurrection
rather than
in death,
God of
my faith.
Your love
is constant
and big enough
to hold
my broken parts.
Receive me
into your hands,
O Lord.
May my soul
breathe trust,
trust in you,
Almighty God,
trust that
breathes faith.

Love, Andrea

Monday, July 6, 2009

Dear God,

What a delight very early this morning to drive to the beach finding only one man with two dogs. I hurried to dance in the shadow of a three story house waiting for the sun to rise above it. More Like You, I sang, more like you. More like you, Jesus, more like you.

Made in the image of God. Who can look, act and sound like God? On one hand the answer is no one. On the other hand the answer is everyone. When I raise my hands in humble praise as I dance for you, I take on the hue of holiness. I look more like you. When I offer my prayer of love and adoration, in thanksgiving and joy, I sound more like you. When I give myself to someone else in an act of faith, I act more like you.

To be sure I am a broken vessel. My clay has many fine lines, sins, mistakes I have made. But a closer look will reveal cracks brought back together with the healing salve of heaven. I will break again and again. Some of the places will be ugly, others will be better after the break and repair. But there is part of me that resembles you, those places where I gave rather than took, where I loved instead of hated, where I forgave rather than harbored resentment. More like you, Lord, make me more like you.

Who can look
into the
face of God
and live?
Who can know
the awesome presence
of Loveliness?
You build
into us
a desire
and an ability
to live
in the midst
of injustice,
pain and sorrow.
You show us
your image
when we see
love lived out
in others.
When I look
for you,
I do not
have to look
very far.
You are
as near
as the breath
I breathe.
You are God;
there is
no other.
Today you are
my vision
of loveliness.
Make me more
like you,
dearest Savior,
more like you.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, July 5, 2009

My dearest God,

This morning I traded tears of sorrow for tears of joy. I was so happy to be in church, to be with the church, to be the church. The 15 minute hymn sing before worship was so uplifting, so meaningful, so joyous. Tears flowed not because my heart was breaking but because it was filling up with gratitude.

All around me I felt the church closing in with loving presence and power. I felt the strength of the church leaning toward heaven, singing out its faith. Surely we are the divine mystery of Christ; we are his body and glad to be it.

Although I was asked in front of the church to do the benediction, I did not want to do it on this first Sunday retired but I said yes anyway. When it came time at the end, I was happy to give back: "Beloved of God, take hold of the peace of Christ which is spiritual freedom and out of that freedom go into the world to love." The pastor had spoken on the two kinds of freedom: personal freedom that can enslave and spiritual freedom that sets free.

I drank in the loving power of the church this morning.

Thanks be
to God,
almighty,
all powerful,
all loving.
I stood
with your church
this morning
and sang out
my heart's faith.
I felt
the peace
of Christ,
its strength
and hope
and joy.
God,
it was good!

Love, Andrea

Saturday, July 4, 2009

My dearest God,

This morning I danced in the misty fog. The song, My Faith Looks Up to Thee, came to me as I took my place at the water's edge. I lifted my arms knowing my faith is the essence of my life. Why would I wish to draw a breath without it? Just as I am, There’s Just Something about that Name came as I danced, lifting every portion of my being to God on High. I have often wondered if I dance for you or if you lead the dance giving me the opportunity to dance with you. Either way joy erupts from my soul as I live and move and have my being in you.

My movements are fluid, forthcoming, nothing held back. I dance because I must. I feel the freedom of my soul as I have this opportunity to be most like myself. Nothing hinders me, no inhibition, no sorrow, anger, resentment, bitterness. In these prized, precious moments I truly am one with you. Nothing stands between us, neither my imperfections or flaws, nor my wrongdoings or doubts. Everything is erased as I allow myself to move to the tune of your spirit.

Why is it, O Lord? Why is it that you love so much, are so faithful even to the least of these? How can you love so much one with so little faith at times? When I forget who I am, when I fall into dark despair sometimes overcome by my loss, when I lack so much in faith, trust and hope, you still present yourself to me. And again I am overwhelmed by such agape love. In the face of such grace, I bow down, humbling myself with tears for my lackings. Forgive me, Lord, forgive me.

In my anger, hurt, and disappointment, sometimes I want to dissolve like a sugar cube dropped into boiling hot tea. I want to dissipate into the air. What is my value, my worth? I ask myself. When I have left that question to the one I have loved most in the world, it seems my value is teeny tiny, not worthy of discussion. Yet, at the same time your loving presence has been revealed to me and I realize again that my worth is not judged or predetermined by someone else. Ultimately it comes from you. Your word makes me worthy of love, not because I deserve it but because you love.

In the compassionate mercy you offer I breathe in this air of love. I know who I am when I take hold of the only hand that extends itself continuously. I claim my existence in you because you are my maker. You have held my clay in your hands. You have moulded and shaped, reshaped and remade me again and again. In your hands I feel the warmth of your embrace. The movement of change is sometimes painful and yet how good it is to be created anew. I am never the same. The adjustments, shifts and retooling are done with great love.

Forgive my forgetfulness,
I pray.
Lead me
into your arms,
Most Wondrous Creator.
Lead me
back home
where I am
reminded whose I am.
Teach me
the way of trust
where I do not rely
on this world’s voice
to tell me
who I am.
You are God
and you alone.
You spoke a word
and the world
came into being
And so did I.

Loving you, Andrea

Friday, July 3, 2009

Dear God,

Kindness can rally the heart. Kindness says I care, I know who you are. Kindness teaches the soul new tricks. Kindness offers a fresh breath. Kindness connects, makes right. Kindness opens doors to hope, to love and faith. Kindness holds the heart. Kindness leads to generosity. They are kin, speaking love to each other. Kindness is love to a stranger, a friend, a loved one. Kindness brings peace. Someone offered me a kindness today, a neighbor.

Teach my heart
to notice
the little things,
small graces.
Let them be,
for me,
enough,
I pray.

Love always, Andrea

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Dearest God,

Who is to say who God is? Can you be in a dirty, old pair of jeans, wearing a long scar from two transplants? A neighbor man in his 40's who counts every day more than he imagined he would live?

Eric mowed our grass. I heard the mower running. I thought he was just mowing his own yard. But no, I watched as he crisscrossed in the long back yard that butts up to the woods near to the river. I thought to myself, my how he looks like Jesus. Funny thing. A child can look like Jesus when you need to see him.

Gifts of life suddenly show up where you least expect them. Perhaps that's what makes them so beautiful. Unexpected. Grace is when you know they have your thumbprint on them.

To you
is all
praise owed.
You walk
this earth,
here and there,
everywhere.
I can
see you here
and someone somewhere
can see you there.
It's the miracle
of faith,
of love and grace.
Thank you
for today's grace,
for Eric,
for his
second life,
for hope.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Dear God,

I returned to my home in Maine. I walked through the door, weeping out my heart's sorrow. I walked through each room feeling the love I had put into every room working hard to renovate, renew and restore. I thought it would be my, our, retirement home. Is that why I worked so hard for nearly five years without a vacation?

After weeping through the rooms, I came to the conclusion that I did it as a gift to the house. Beneath its rough exterior, its scratches and scars, holes and cracks, dirty carpet, wet basement, asbestos siding, and weakened places caused by thousands of carpenter ants, I knew when I walked through it the very first time it had so much potential. I knew its beauty before I saw it. I knew with hard work its natural beauty would shine forth. It would rise up. The house would reveal its inner beauty. That's what I saw when I stepped into each room.

I did it as a gift to our neighbors and the neighborhood. Releasing our home's beauty would be a gift to our street. It would stand beautiful among the other homes renovated, cleaned up, and transformed. On the second oldest street in Kennebunk it would radiate for others as they drove or walked by. Those really interested would think back on days gone by nearly 200 years before when the house was built by and for naval officers.

Who can really possess a home? Who can really say this is mine? If the house is destined for long life, it will outlast its residents. It will belong to someone else and then another someone else. When we try to lay claim on a home, we fool ourselves into believing we possess it.

I am constantly learning the lessons of life. If I can't lay claim on a home, how can I lay claim on another? How can I say this is my child? Or my husband? They are not mine ultimately. What I want to give them or receive from them is not really something I can control, manipulate or make happen. I can give but my giving may not render me what I would like to receive back. And so my many acts of love need to be offered as a sacred gift without strings. If I can't give it this way, perhaps I need not give it at all.

Teach me
the ways
of heaven,
dear God.
So often
my hopes,
my expectations
lead me
to disappointment.
And disappointment
leads me
to sadness
where I puddle
for far too long.
I need
your wisdom,
O Lord,
to live
a life
of faith
trusting you
to lead me.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dear God,

Struck down, my heart was struck down today. Words, gestures, sorrow and pain came together and I felt myself sinking downward in sorrow too deep for words. How much more could my heart endure, I asked myself.

I felt like a shell, my soul hidden away in the deep place, crying out its pain. Only you could bring me comfort and respite. Only you could bring salve to my aching heart. How could he? How could he hurt me so much?

How much can a heart give itself before it collapses, withers and dies? How much must it give in order to receive back? How much love can you give away and without enough love returned remain alive?

There has only been one love for me and today it was crushed and broken.

You, dear God,
are my salvation.
You are
my refuge,
my soul's
only peace.
Only you
can fill
my heart
with love,
giving me
comfort, joy
and peace.
I turn
to you,
Lord,
for you alone
are my strength.
In you
I trust.
Fill me,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Monday, June 29, 2009

Dearest God,

I handed over my keys, leaving parish ministry behind. A lifetime, well just 21 years, of service, caring for people, leading them to open doors of faith, praying, preaching, counselling, walking beside, affirming, acknowledging, challenging people. Ups and downs, pain and celebration, blessing and curse, I've experienced it all. I gave back my keys.

A simple call in 1972 lead me to this servant ministry that I have now left behind. It feels right and good. I am tired, exhausted; yet, I feel fulfilled to have lived a servant life.

In the end I wonder how much of my life I have really served you, loved and followed you. On any day, an hour or two, a few minutes, an afternoon or evening. How many minutes did I really serve out of love for you? How much was my own work, following my own heart and mind? How faithful have I really been? Was I really a servant, one who follows the Master?

Only after walking away, retiring can one really look back and reflect. My heart's desire from the beginning as early as five years old has been to be faithful. How faithful have I been, Lord? How much of my heart did I really give during those years? How many times did I function to love you more than myself? Others before myself?

I am sure it is, after all, a matter of the heart. Has my heart beat in rhythm with you? Have I ever fully given myself to you to use in your service? Only you know, Lord, only you.

I said yes,
Lord,
I said yes
to you.
I said yes,
I will
do it,
I will serve.
But how much
of myself
have I given
to you?
How much
have I loved?
How well
have I served?
How faithful
have I been?
Only you know,
O Lord,
only you.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Dear God,

Common, ordinary people who later were made saints by the church knew the secret of suffering. The internal strife they felt buoyed them with faith and humility was born anew. I read the accounts of their lives and I think where would they have been without the losses, the mournings, the struggle, the suffering. It seems their humanity was forged, carved and shaped in this deep place.

Who is to believe that life should be better for one over another? Who can expect to live in abundance when so many live in so little? I have been blessed in my life. My losses and sorrows have caused me to have a pilgrim's heart and soul. I have to be prepared, to pick up my backpack, to put on my traveling shoes each time difficulty strikes. I have to be ready to move once again in my heart and soul. I cannot stay put lest I choose to live in a stagnant, wounded, unhealthy, sorrowing place. Change that comes to every life is the call to pack up the bare essentials: faith, trust, and hope and then begin the walk of faith, listening always for the voice of heaven.

Life does not come with guarantees. Love will sometimes stay forever or at least that is what you hope for, I hope for. Sometimes it does not even though I want it desperately. But hanging on to something or someone who aids you in drowning must be released, not in destructive ways but rather with a mutual recognition that life is precious and sometimes surrender will give way to new meaning, joy, hope, beauty and even goodness. The saints knew that as they traveled often in their souls to new places, deeper places where you reside.

Life is teaching me many lessons. I am not always a good learner. I often want to trust what is in my heart, what I want so much rather than wanting what you want all the time. My stubbornness will often hold me back, keep me in place wanting more, suffering more. When I learn once again the lesson of trust, of real faith and I begin to pack, putting on my shoes one at a time, I am already in the process of growing, leaning, learning, trusting. What is faith if I am not prepared to move to an unknown destination of your choice?

Who am I
without you,
Loving God?
What is
the meaning
of my existence
if not seen
through your eyes?
What good
am I
if I do not
learn from you?
Give me strength
and raw courage
to listen
and follow,
to be obedient,
to journey
with you,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Dearest God,

I wanted to decide where to participate in worship tomorrow. For a Sunday without worship to me is like a day without air.

I am letting go, surrendering things that emotionally and physically weigh me down. Resentment and bitterness take a lot of energy and rob me of the true essence of my life. Why would I want to drag them around? But the energy it takes to release them is staggering.

What is important and valuable to my life? I ask myself. Obviously worship is an essential; it is a compass, giving direction. I want direction, spiritual direction that keeps my feet moving in the direction you deem right and good.

But there is more to explore, more to look at to decide: does this stay or go. And how can I do that without your leading? Each day I implore you to lead me, to give my life meaning and purpose, to show me what it is that will eternally remain with me and what it is that I must surrender.

Some things are easy to release like yesterday's food. Other things are difficult; I hang on with tentacles like an octopus. Like love I once knew. But sometimes the day comes when surrender will return life again. You thunder from heaven: let go and trust me. All of life seems to be this way. Listening, following, being obedient, then discerning again, questioning, doubting, checking it out, listening and so on. What is faith if I do not allow it its rightful place in my life? Faith is central to all I am. Faith begins the process.

I am indebted
to you,
God of my Faith.
What would
life be
without you?
I struggle,
wrestle with
present realities
but the fight
within myself
teaches me
to trust you more.
The process
of letting go
is sometimes
so painful
I think
I can't breathe.
But when
air from heaven
enters me
I know
its origin
and the touch
you offer
reminds me
I am not alone.
O God,
thank you.

Love, Andrea

Friday, June 26, 2009

Dear God,

I was supposed to be at conference this weekend to "celebrate" my retirement. I was at home breathing in your grace.

I traded my conference hotel room for the key to my own home. My how I have missed this environment. I have missed cooking my own meal, sleeping in my own bed, washing my own clothes in my own washer. I have missed looking out the window watching my spring flowers poke through the ground, rise, bud and blossom. I have missed my home.

But what is home? Is it a place, a location, an address? Is it a spot I possess or call my own? Does that make it a home?

In the last several weeks I have had to carry my home within me. When I felt away, no rootage beneath my feet, I had to take hold of your hand to find my center. I had to pause, to draw in your breath, to look for your light, to live in the light of your home. A good spiritual exercise. Although I felt bedraggled, worn and unsettled, I know that this special kind of suffering has taught me to recognize that home is where you are not the address where I reside. When I acknowledge this truth, I am enabled to travel lighter, to give thanks for where I am knowing that the joy of life is not clinging to what I own or possess but rather standing in the midst of you.

You are
my home,
Great God.
When my
air supply dwindles
and I feel
alone, lost
or lonely,
I know
that my possessions
will never provide
permanent residence.
Home will
never be
what I own
but rather
who holds me.
In your arms
I am
safe, secure
and well.
I write
in gratitude
for your
loving presence.

Love, Andrea