It had been a difficult day. Friends had received a devastating diagnosis after a year filled with recurring illness and death, a forced march of coping and caring. I went to see them not only for their sake but for mine also. When someone I love is hurting, it helps me to touch them, see them, and for a little while, the demons are held at bay by love and laughter. As we sat around the table drinking hot tea and cider, my friend said she was rich in friendship, her life full of people who love and care for her. Tangible symbols of love... a bonsai tree on her front porch when they returned from the hospital, phone calls and visits, family who are friends... abound in her life and she is grateful.
Michael came home and opened the mail... a birth announcement and a thank you note. The birth of a new baby boy, life in the midst of trials and tribulations, his sweet face cuddled in a blanket makes me smile. The thank you note, handwritten and genuine, was from one of the nineteen teenagers who spent a weekend at Sabbath Rest Farm in our home.
Our daughter Alison and her Associate Pastor brought their youth group for a retreat and work day at the farm. They gathered hay bales (nearly 200 of them), fed cows, “picked eggs”, had a hay ride, saw more stars than they had ever seen before, rode Junie B, worshiped in the chapel, played games, and laughed a lot. Bless their hearts... their leaders had them vacuum the house and clean the bathrooms before they left. And now this gift of a thank you note. Suddenly the mountain of bed sheets and towels waiting to be washed are a sweet reminder of time well spent and memory makers for those not quite adults, these children of the church.
As I lay in bed this morning, the sky over the near ridge turned a dull khaki gold, followed by a narrow red strip. The red strip grew larger, the khaki gold turned bright gold and lavender appeared at the top of the sky. With amazing speed, the colors morphed into neon pink orange red gold and then the sun appeared for a brief moment before the clouds set in blotting out the electric light parade. But it is still there under the clouds and I will see it again, maybe tomorrow morning.
Gratitude is the electric light parade of the soul when life is painful and the path is rough. When I am lost in the valley of the shadows, each act of thanksgiving reminds me of past gifts of grace, helps me see God’s presence in my present, and gives me hope for a future filled with the Love that will not let me go. The clouds and darkness come for a season but they are illuminated by streaks of neon light that are the visible reminders of life, love and laughter yet to come. Thanks be to God for darkness and light, clouds and clear skies, friends and family, laughter and tears, health and illness, children and old ones, stars in the night that turn darkness into our friend. Keep us in your light, God, and we will walk in your paths. Amen.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Dream a little dream of me...
I wake in the middle of the night, startled into consciousness by the ending of a dream. The sound of winter wind whipping through the trees and around the house are an acoustic accompaniment to my dream process. Barney howls and I wonder if dreams wakened him, too. Dreams that I remember come seldom to me. I ponder them for days, hold them fast as I try to find meaning in their hidden codes. Dreams are a creative wonder, dark paths illuminated by night time journeys deep into our souls.
There are many different kinds of dreams. Often I will dream a calligraphy quote or a solution to a design problem. These practical solutions to a creative problem float to the surface and I wake up feeling energized and ready to work. Sometimes those I have loved and lost to death appear in dreams and it is a comfort. But the winter wind dreams, the dreams that waken me into startled loneliness, leave me feeling like joining Barney in howling. Dreams can be dangerous, reminders of our limitations and frailties.
As a child, I dreamed dreams of the future. As an aging woman, I dream dreams of past, present and future. Years of living, loss, loving and leaving have marked the trail that leads to the source of my dreams. This dream path, this way to wisdom, is both gift and curse. Wisdom comes with a price and sometimes the price is painful. Wisdom, the way of knowing that honors past, present and future, is one of the creative possibilities in aging. Dreams are lamps that light up the hidden, the not yet known, the forgotten parts of our individual wisdom and we are lead to a different way of becoming the ones we were created to be.
Blue streaks of sky are slicing through the grey clouds as I walk Rufus outside. I watch a solitary oak leaf, far from its mother tree, circle lazily as it gently floats to the earth. I have been away from myself for awhile, floating like the oak leaf, caught up and swirling. Internal and external forces kept me apart from God and from myself. The grey sky with blue streaks reminds me that I cannot see all of the sky, only the little part that is in my world at Sabbath Rest Farm. My blue sky dreams are waiting underneath the grey winter clouds, waiting as I dream a little dream of me.
Thanks be to the One who dreamed me into being, whose dreams of love and light sustain me in seasons of darkness. For the grace that brought me thus far and will lead me home, I am grateful. For those who wander in the wilderness searching for wisdom, dreaming of peace and joy, I pray dreams will come true. And for us all, companions in life and death and life again, I pray for traveling mercies as we journey home. Amen.
There are many different kinds of dreams. Often I will dream a calligraphy quote or a solution to a design problem. These practical solutions to a creative problem float to the surface and I wake up feeling energized and ready to work. Sometimes those I have loved and lost to death appear in dreams and it is a comfort. But the winter wind dreams, the dreams that waken me into startled loneliness, leave me feeling like joining Barney in howling. Dreams can be dangerous, reminders of our limitations and frailties.
As a child, I dreamed dreams of the future. As an aging woman, I dream dreams of past, present and future. Years of living, loss, loving and leaving have marked the trail that leads to the source of my dreams. This dream path, this way to wisdom, is both gift and curse. Wisdom comes with a price and sometimes the price is painful. Wisdom, the way of knowing that honors past, present and future, is one of the creative possibilities in aging. Dreams are lamps that light up the hidden, the not yet known, the forgotten parts of our individual wisdom and we are lead to a different way of becoming the ones we were created to be.
Blue streaks of sky are slicing through the grey clouds as I walk Rufus outside. I watch a solitary oak leaf, far from its mother tree, circle lazily as it gently floats to the earth. I have been away from myself for awhile, floating like the oak leaf, caught up and swirling. Internal and external forces kept me apart from God and from myself. The grey sky with blue streaks reminds me that I cannot see all of the sky, only the little part that is in my world at Sabbath Rest Farm. My blue sky dreams are waiting underneath the grey winter clouds, waiting as I dream a little dream of me.
Thanks be to the One who dreamed me into being, whose dreams of love and light sustain me in seasons of darkness. For the grace that brought me thus far and will lead me home, I am grateful. For those who wander in the wilderness searching for wisdom, dreaming of peace and joy, I pray dreams will come true. And for us all, companions in life and death and life again, I pray for traveling mercies as we journey home. Amen.
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