Love like you can...

We are all looking for love - many times "in all the wrong places" as the song goes. Today's gospel offers a glimpse of the right place: "Love one another as I have loved you". As face value, this seems like such a simple thing to do -- until we get quiet and start reflecting -- and realize the immense depth with which God has loved and blessed us -- and suddenly it becomes an immense challenge - to love with total acceptance and respect - to love everyone - however they are, whoever they are, at whatever stage they are on their journey, on whatever path they choose to take. Unconditional love -- we know it is ours for the asking; receiving it is often challenging, but giving it is a life-long journey.... Peace.

Ashes

There are not too many Lenten songs that I resonate with, but Ashes by Tom Conry is one of the few that I absolutely love.

We rise again from ashes, from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew.
If all our world is ashes, then must our lives be true,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

We offer you our failures, we offer you attempts.
The gifts not fully given; the dreams not fully dreampt.
Give our stumblings direction; give our vision wider view,
an offering of ashes, an offering to you.

There have been years that these verses have just reduced me to tears; they have been so meaningful. Who among us doesn't know what it feels like to have their world reduced to ashes?
I think immediately of those pictures of people standing at the site of their homes, reduced to ashes by a fire or rubble by a tornado. Truly, everything seems to be lost. Truly, one can just stumble into the future, in shock from what one has just experienced. No one looses everything and immediately gets up and walks clearminded into the future. When you feel like you have lost everything, it takes time to recover.

Yet, those pictures also show illustrate determination -- and the way we cling all the more to what we do have -- the people who are most precious, who have survived the trauma with us.
Whether ashes are a reality or a metaphor for the way I feel, I am consoled by those I love, or those who remain with me -- or in the worst, by my faith that God is holding me in the midst of my suffering and God will not let go. -- And I rise, and re-create myself; I rise and stumble forward, hoping that I will find a direction sooner or later.

I believe the ashes are only the seedbed for new life -- like the legendary phoenix, I too will rise.

Changing

Lenten Journeys

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday - and this year, my Lent is green -- not violet or purple. I go with a color that energizes me - green is for new life and growing things, and in the end, isn't that what Lent is about - refining our practice and habits so that we can grow into the loving, healthy person we want to be. Yes, it is about remembering Jesus' sacrifice and death - but my old self dies a little each time I choose to live more freely, more lovingly, more honestly.
So my Lent is green again this year - and I hope I grow into the spiritual woman I want to be.

It is our Quiet Time

It is our quiet time.
We do not speak because the voices are within us.
It is our quiet time.
We do not walk because all the earth is within us.
It is our quiet time.
We do not dance because the music has lifted us to a place where the Spirit is.
It is our quiet time.
We rest with all of nature... Taos Pueblo

Now is quiet time. I have uprooted myself yet again - this time, by moving from New Jersey, the state of my birth and most of my life, to Cincinnati, Ohio -- the place where dreams can come true. I've moved to be close to my Sisters, my friends, to the family of my choosing rather than of my birth. Here, I can put down new roots that will nourish me into the sunset of my life - here I can breath deeply of the clean air(at least now in winter), the naked trees, the forests and winding, hilly countryside. I am free of the noise and congestion of the city -- but I am not yet free of the noise within - and of the fears that still linger. But I am a pilgrim soul still. Stillness and quiet are needed for me to put down roots, to establish patterns and behaviors that allow me to draw nourishment from my surroundings. Unless I am quiet, I will carry the noise of the city every place I go. And that is something I do not want to do. I do not want to be captive any longer. I want to be free; I want to be at peace with myself and others; I want to remember that life is saturated with the Sacred... and I want to live bowing before it.