The Grace Prayer

Grace, to me, is receiving the power and blessing of Spirit as I relinquish control and choose to let a higher power move through me so that I am more receptive to the blessings that will enrich my life, mind, and spirit. The above pictures of the rock towers were taken on the high point of a hiking trail. Many people build a tower in this place, and it always gets knocked down by wind and rain (and possibly rambunctious kids!). The towers are always uneven, wobbly, and not necessarily beautiful, yet the fact that people get inspired to build them, and even add a rock or two to those already built, shows me that humanity as a whole has a desire for upward movement, to get their hands on the ground, pick up a rock, and take that first step to build something that represents effort, hope, and balance. I believe those who build these towers experience a moment of grace that gets them "out of themselves" and connected to something that visually affirms God will help with the structure and building of their life. This grace is available, all the time, even on the day the rock tower falls, because it gives another hiker a chance to be graced with the inspiration to "think big" again.


God, give me the grace to clearly know what it is you would have me know today.

God, give me the grace to see clearly what it is you would have me do in this world today.

God, give me the grace to be patient with the uncertainties in my life that cause grief and panic and the illusion of separation and rejection.

God, give me the grace to know when to open my life in a new direction and and seize an opportunity you have put before me.

God, give me the grace to let go of what I no longer need to cling to.

God, give me the grace to embrace the present moment and not wish for the future to arrive before I am ready for it.

God, give me the grace to accept what I cannot control, specifically the actions and choices of others.

God, give me the grace to love myself and treat myself with the utmost respect.

God, give me the grace to believe that I am safe and my life is divinely guided and protected no matter what situations I face.

God, give me the grace to know I am worthy of a peaceful and sound mind.

God, give me the grace to be comfortable with uncertainty.

God, give me the grace to not feel cheated about things that have happened to me.

God, give me the grace to not live in regret or bitterness.

God, give me the grace to surrender what I hold so tightly to. Let me trust that the act of letting go makes a path for what is mine to come to me.

God, give me the grace to keep my spirit in present time.

With Gratitude . . .

Blueberry Bliss

My children and I went blueberry picking at a church in Franklin, Tennessee, last summer, and I found an unexpected surprise in the midst of a chaotic, messy out-building (in which fruit pickers leave money in a bucket to donate to the church in trade for the berries) that had a place of respite and meditation for anyone who wandered in . . . if they looked past the clutter and trash (yes, trash), and stacks of boxes. The area consisted simply of a shelf, the Apostle's Creed printed out on a piece of paper, a candle, matches, and prayers typed out to offer up to God, with a few pictures of Jesus hanging in small frames behind the shelf to offer focus to anyone who needed to have a visual of hope and promise. I, particularly, don't like looking at portrayals of Jesus, as I know they are all incorrect, so I rely on a bodily presence without features and an overall spiritual essence of who He is. Anyway, I wondered if I should use this meditation station, because I felt really drawn to it, and my kids were outside, happy just to stay and roam around the many-acred, blueberry-filled property. And let's face it, who in their right mind would want to leave the rolling acres of woods, sanctuary of the church property, and freedom to roam, even after we had picked more berries than we could ever hope to eat.

As I pondered if I should have a moment at the meditation station, I wondered if I was actually allowed to. Isn't that silly? But when a place of safety and rest is provided to us, at no cost and with no strings attached, we often feel undeserving at first, like we should hurry through the process and take "just a little", because it "really wasn't meant for us in the first place". I could have reasoned that the meditation corner was really for church members, and that I had come into a sacred place, unofficially, and uninvited . . . my only reason for being there was to pay for the berries and then exit the building. Or another way to put it would be that I had to earn or pay the price for even being allowed in the building. But I chose to allow myself the opportunity to have the experience I felt I needed. I lit the candle and became internally quiet. Then, staring at the candle, prayers flowed through my thoughts and the Apostle's Creed was quietly spoken. I felt that I was where I rightfully needed to be. Every once in a while I couldn't help but look around the large room, which encompassed a living area and kitchen, and was a little put off by the untidiness. I thought that if the church is going to offer a place of respite, then couldn't they at least work on the whole surroundings to enhance the beauty of the meditative/prayerful experience? But then I reminded myself that there is always beauty and calm to be found in the midst of chaos; there is always a place of safety in the disordered, messy, and untidy path we walk. Not sure that was the church's intention to show people, but it was what I needed to hear that afternoon nonetheless. Finally (and reluctantly, because I didn't want to leave), I blew out the candle, stacked the papers containing the Apostle's Creed and prayers, and threw away my match in the trash can to my left . . . only to see about ten or so burned out matches lying in the bottom of the trash from others before me who had come in to have their own experience of prayer and meditation. I smiled, because I had actually felt kinda alone and isolated during my experience, caught up in my thoughts and worries, and then I realized that we are all doing the same thing--bringing our attention to God, calming our souls through the words we offer Him, and finally, surrendering our chaos to Him as we end our meditative "moment" and carry on with our day. I ended up feeling not only united to God at that moment, but united to people in general--the people who seek Him--and especially those ten people who came before me with their prayers and left their burned-out match as reminder that I am not alone in my journey.

I walked past the bucket of donated berry money on my way out, noticing from the amount in it that quite a few people must have come inside the building on this day. I wondered if they had also seen the meditation spot toward the back corner, or had they felt single-minded, like they only had permission to enter, leave their offering, and exit promptly. I hoped more would linger and notice what I found, and leave not thinking of what money they had to give up, but what they could gladly leave behind (all that is surrendered in prayer) and gain (peace and welcoming).

Time for a Change

Over the past month I've been having dreams about my kids being toddler-young. The dreams are sweet, capturing memorable things about each one that I adored in them. My younger daughter was born with really big lips, still has them to this day, so her baby lips were featured in one of my dreams (odd, I know). In the dream were images of her snuggling up close to me, lips in my face, upset with something in that cute way only toddlers can get away with. (When you've seen adults try to pull anger and cuteness off at the same time, it really doesn't work!) The dreams of my older daughter have featured simply her nearness, which reminds me of years ago (ten, to be exact), being a new mom and getting used to having a new person to love who was ALWAYS there with me. Day in, day out. Exhausting--both mentally and physically, but in looking back, I see it as what jump-started my soul from merely existing to really being alive with passion. I was surprised at these dreams, because I don't usually dream about my children. Right now, life with them is still pretty simple and uncomplicated because they are only ten and seven. There's not much drama relating to them to work through in my dream state at this point. And then I realized that these dreams are not really about them; they are about me coming to terms with the fact that they have changed . . . are changing . . . will always be changing. I'm not okay with them getting older and growing out of those early years, because it means leaving behind a whole world, a whole pattern of living and interacting. But I have to learn to be okay with this inevitable change in them because it's unstoppable. It's all for good. The larger lesson for me in all this is to look around in other areas of my life where I've been fighting change within myself because I'm scared of letting go of old ways and patterns simply because I've gotten used to them, even though they don't serve me. Change always feels awkward and doesn't fit comfortably until you get into the flow of surrender and acceptance---where joy usually shows up.

Here are photos of my daughters standing against an old beech tree. The photos were taken exactly two years apart. Their physical changes are subtle yet dramatic at the same time. But the most important changes have taken place within each of them.

The beech tree as well has undergone dramatic change throughout its centuries in the earth. But the day-to-day physical changes are almost imperceivable. If the tree resisted its growth, though, its natural tendency to reach upward for height and yet also reach deep in the soil to remain anchored and stable would keep it a sapling, just a mere stick of what it could become if it accepted the changes in itself along the way. Change calls forth movement, uncertainty, transformation, discomfort, awkwardness, stops and starts, decision-making, and most important . . . FAITH. Faith in what could be, or hopefully will be. But it's all unknown.

Author Caroline Myss reflects on how life challenges us to move forward instead of remaining in an unyielding, mental mind-set: "Seen symbolically, our life crises tell us that we need to break free of beliefs that no longer serve our personal development. These points at which we must choose to change or to stagnate are our greatest challenges. Every new crossroads means we enter into a new cycle of change . . . . And change inevitably means letting go . . . and moving on to another stage of life."

Ice Crisis

It's February . . . still. January felt long as well, with cold, icy, dark days that felt longer than their allotted twenty-four hours. But February is the final month that ends the bleak winter days (at least in the area I live), so the anticipation of March and spring just weeks away makes me want to move quickly through February. Sometimes I think it would be nice if humans could just collectively hibernate right about now. Just shut down, regain our strength, and avoid the feelings of bleakness that this season can bring. Then we could wake up as the warmth settles around us and the natural world comes to life with buds and flowers, inviting us once again to the world of renewal and hope and life. But the more I think about it, if humans could hibernate, we would miss out on many experiences that the "winter" months could teach us, if you look at the winter months symbolically . . . as times of tribulation. Read the following quote from author Caroline Myss in her book Invisible Acts of Power:

"Many of the crisis in our lives are divinely scheduled to get us to head in another direction. No one gets off a comfortable couch. We need stress, often an enormous amount of it, to muster up the willpower finally to try something new with our lives. As . . . Scott Peck writes, '. . . our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.' "

Everyone gets challenged by a crisis. But what usually happens with me is that I become paralyzed, useless, and unable to find my center. I generally don't take any action, even though my thoughts are spinning. A good word to describe my reaction during these times would be frozen . . . in a metaphorical winter ice crisis. When ice and snow come upon a landscape, it really cements things in place for a time. Small twigs are not likely to blow away until the ice releases its hold; rocks are almost impossible to dislodge from a frozen forest floor; and, on a lighter note, I've even had my daughter's jump rope become frozen under the ice, only to be rescued when the warm sun shines on it days later. When it snows here in Tennessee, life basically shuts down because no one is prepared to move fluidly along the roads, since our driving skills in icy conditions are lacking and the city rarely salts the roads thoroughly in preparation. So, I've had my fair share of days through the years in Tennessee of simply being stuck in one place for a few days because of the snow and ice. But recently, I've begun to take a new perspective on the benefits of the various internal "ice crises" I've found myself frozen in.

For example, if I reword being "stuck" and "frozen" during a difficult time with being "still" and "receptive", then my attitude can change and the end result moves to a positive. Being still and receptive while moving through a difficulty also echoes of silence and meditation, waiting on God to reveal the next step, discernment, and rehabilitating the self through patience and gentleness.
I searched the Bible for references to snow, and I did not find anything negative associated with that word. In fact, the purity and renewal of snow was reiterated again and again. And it's true. Snow and ice can represent a new start, acting like a blanket, covering over the old decay of the past season. When it thaws, the water is set free, affirming life by allowing new growth to take root and established trees and plants to keep thriving. Can you see the need for stillness and patience as we learn to wait on God to move us through the difficulties? Help will come to us, but shutting down and becoming paralyzed by fear shuts down our ability to perceive God around us. He is always there, but we have to look and listen through our STILLNESS without letting our feelings of being frozen and stuck get the better of us. The crisis we are going through will "thaw", and the new growth that takes place when the Living Water runs through us only makes our souls more beautiful.

Note: The above picture is a brachiopod fossil half, filled with tiny crystals, sitting in the snow.

The Prayer of My Child

This past September my sister gave my youngest daughter, age seven, a crucifix for her birthday. No, neither my sister nor I are Catholic, but we both respect other denominations and often intermingle various religious customs in our own to enhance our spirituality. The crucifix she picked out was silver with pink beads, and it came stored in a sweet little ceramic dish in the shape of a bed with a child sleeping in it, holding a bunny. Very child-friendly. She felt that this gift was appropriate for my daughter because she has displayed an ease at talking with God and "connecting" to Him through prayer and the songs she writes . . . ("Heart of Gold" topping the list as my favorite.) When she opened the gift, she kinda knew what it was, but my sister explained more fully what a crucifix was and its use during prayer. She then gave her a simplified way to use it with prayer: just hold it while praying and use it to help feel closer to God. Simple enough . . . even though some Catholics might be in an uproar by now at this modified usage!

She doesn't use it very much, but it sits in its ceramic dish on her nightstand day after day, a sort of zen spot amid the cluttered mess of her extremely disorganized room. One night, though, I walked in to say goodnight and tell her that her Daddy would be in soon to say prayers with her (as is the nightly ritual), when I noticed she had her crucifix out and cradled in her hand, in the dark. She asked me to sit down and tell her of any prayer requests I had. I was a little thrown off, since I had never heard her say the words "prayer requests" before, but I sat down and smiled, knowing that my heart was in fact a bit troubled by a particular issue that day in which I had not yet prayed for help. For a moment I was tickled at the situation; it felt as if I was going into a Catholic confessional, and she was there to listen in the cloak of darkness, as if I was one of many people who would be passing through her room that night seeking peace and redemption. But I quickly reminded myself that God had simply stirred in her heart, and without her questioning it, she asked me to tell her my requests, so I did . . . to my child . . . but really to God (while we both touched the rosary): "I pray that my body feels better very soon and that I stop worrying about it." That was all I said; then I asked her for a prayer request, and she chirpily replied, "Oh, I don't really have any. I just wanted you to say one." Well, well, well, was I caught off-guard. That was the whole purpose . . . my prayer for myself, with my daughter (the power of two or more). Children are so open to the divine when it calls. And she, unknowingly, answered the calling of God to specifically ask to pray with me and for me.

I thank God every day for the blessings of my children! Amen!

Into the Light

My mother gave me this heart rock today. Usually I'm the one who finds the heart rocks, so this was an unexpected gift. It was not found by her, though. It was found by my great grandfather on my father's side, Charles, whom I never met . . . he died before I was born. In the early 1900s he collected arrowheads, along with a few other interesting rocks. My mother came over today to hand over half of his collection to me (and the other half will go to my sister). The collection includes petrified wood, arrowheads, clear quartz, calcite, carnelian, and many other types of stones. But, of course, my eyes went straight to this small heart rock, and I had to smile at the generational link between us. For even though we never knew each other, we both obviously appreciated treasures in the natural world.

Now let me explain why this picture above is so very important to me, because it represents right where I'm at spiritually. First, notice that there is so much darkness in the photo. I did that on purpose . . . I could have cropped it away, but metaphorically it captures the darkness that has surrounded me during a recent time of struggle in my life. As much as I wanted to immediately push away the darkness and pretend that it was not there, it could not be denied. It had to be acknowledged. As Neal Donald Walsh states in his book Conversations with God, "What we resist persists. What we look at goes away." So, with much reluctance I accepted that I was in a dark period. After a while I started to understand that the dark time was a sort of slowing down time, a time for contemplation and refining, although much fear was felt at this stage as well, because darkness always seems to arouse fear in me. After all, I can't see things clearly. I don't trust that walking through the dark with my hands outstretched will lead me safely into God's arms. I'm more afraid that I'll end up farther away, in more darkness, unable to return to any sense of safety. My tendency is to panic in the dark moments, which highlights my lack of faith. This refining period proved to be painful, yet productive. Empty, yet full of beauty the more I stopped running and started looking at what God had to teach me.

Now notice the red flower in the photo, rising up out of the dark, soft and encapsulating. It seems to be suspended in the dark, thriving amidst its bleak surroundings. This represents hope, safety, and rescue . . . or, simply put, God. Even through my struggle in the "dark", I was never alone. I was always resting in the soft layers of spiritual divinity, nestled in His promise of rescue, enlightenment, and refinement.

Obviously, in the photo, the heart rock represents me, being gently supported by the velvety petals of God's love. The heart rock's colors also represent me as well: darkness and light swirling together, making a beautiful, although not perfect, design. But the light that seems to pop from this rock is what matters most; it represents my spiritual light. The fact that there is any light at all in me proves that He is doing His work in me. I'm still not perfect; therefore the dark veins still course through me, but the light always shines through, pushing the darkness away, ultimately triumphing. The darkness within myself serves a purpose, though. It keeps me real, allows me to approach others with my brokenness, and reminds me that He has more work to do in me. So the next time I'm refined, hopefully I won't resist it or fear it as much as I did this time around.

"Learn the alchemy true human beings know.

The moment you accept what troubles you've been given,

the door will open."

~Rumi~

"And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud

was more painful than the risk it took

to blossom."

~Anais Nin~

A Soft Place to Land

A couple of years ago I discovered a special place in the woods that I call the moss trail. It's not a trail for walking on, but every now and then I can't help myself, I just have to take the detour and get my feet on that path . . . that soft place to land when I need a little extra support. I often notice many areas where animals have walked because the moss has been kicked up in places; maybe a deer, bobcat (yes, I've seen bobcats in these woods), or a fox were travelers here. And it makes me smile to think that even the animals can't resist this many-hued green pathway. The moss in the picture above is the most predominant variety on the path, but the beautiful sage green reindeer moss is abundant as well. I love to just set my gaze on the various green mosses and take in the natural colors on display before me. One day, while with my two daughters and husband, I showed them the trail for the first time. The girls loved it and wanted to explore deeper into the woods down the moss path, which was farther than I had ever gone before. To all of our surprise, the path went on and on. We passed large rocks, beautiful, old trees, and places that seemed untouched and untraveled. I had to smile as I watched my daughters literally lie down on the moss and revel in the natural beauty and comfort around them. And my oldest, who is very sensitive and easily frightened at anything, especially death, told me she wanted to be buried right there under the moss! Wow! For just a brief moment she got out of her fearful mind and entered into that beautiful S P A C E where there is no fear, no worry, only a pure moment of being in the present, graced by the divine. I'm glad she allowed her soul to shine it's radiant, true self in the moment, reminding me that we are so connected to the natural world but so often forget it. We are made of organic elements just like the trees, dirt, streams, and rocks. It's only natural that we should feel so at home and so connected while in the woods, or traveling through the desert, or on a mountaintop, or at the ocean.

"There is a great healing in the wild. When you go out into nature, you bring your clay body back to its native realm. A day in the mountains or by the ocean helps your body unclench. You recover your deeper rhythm . . . you begin to realize the magnitude and magic of being here. In a wild place you are actually IN the middle of the great prayer. "

~John O'Donohue, Eternal Echoes

Beauty Redefined

"The irony of being here is that sometimes it is precisely what you want to avoid that brings you further towards creativity and compassion."

~ John O'Donohue, Eternal Echoes

The past few years I've been challenged to redefine my idea of beauty. Beauty in everyday life. Beauty in my surroundings. Beauty in the face of another. I had this inherent belief that beauty is only what looks good, or makes you feel good and peaceful, or what pleases the mind, creating a sense that all is well and in its right place. If I experienced beauty, it meant I didn't want to look away from someone or something because IT DID NOT CAUSE ANY PAIN. And this can all be true of beauty. But lately I was first gently nudged, then shoved into understanding and seeing the other dimension of beauty and the unexpectedly generous supply of wisdom it holds. But it requires an often uncomfortable journey into pain--either physical, mental, or spiritual-- which I have too often avoided because I was afraid of "not being pleased."

A few things in particular stand out as I allowed beauty to be redefined in my heart. One was a relational disappointment in which I expected something from someone who had nothing to give me. I was forced to look at painful truths about myself, in what appeared to be rejection. In reality, it was redirection that was offered to me, which was beauty manifesting through the strength of another. I went through a "dark night of the soul" period, in which everything seemed ugly and empty, even myself. But after a while I started paying attention to what was going on inside of me. And I noticed that I was beginning to grow spiritually, in new and different ways. Beauty revealed itself to me in my emotional pain, as strange as it sounds. The pain I felt propelled me toward my Maker, seeking direction and comfort in Him.

Another way that beauty was redefined for me was during a recent bout with pain--physical pain. I'm a relatively strong and healthy person, with not a lot to complain about in the health department. But when I recently experienced an injury that left me in chronic pain for months (I'm still recovering!), it rocked my world. Needless to say I did not handle the pain well. Fear crept in, a few panic attacks were unleashed, and my mood plummeted. I wondered if I'd ever get better. But then my thoughts went to the numerous people who will truly live with chronic pain throughout their life, with no relief. I've often overlooked those who chronically suffer with pain because it was overwhelming to me. And it was easy to overlook those who hurt when I felt so wonderful. So this injury really opened my heart to have compassion for those suffering physical pain. This has been important to me since I practice Reiki (a form of energy work). I often help those with physical pain, as well as emotional issues. And I can only be helpful to my clients if I have an appropriate level of empathy. My empathy toward others definitely increased because of the pain I was in. The beauty of this lesson was only revealed through the pain I experienced. Not a fun process for me, but full of lessons and self-discovery.

I love the above John O'Donohue quote that reminds us that beauty is often found in the things we avoid. No one chooses to suffer. No one wants to walk into something that is seemingly "unbeautiful" and painful. But when we find ourselves in a situation that seems to be a struggle, we need to surrender to it and let it run its course in us and use the experience as a teacher. Then our surrounding darkness can be infused with a bit of light, which translates into beauty, and we can watch it transform us.

A Reluctant Heart

Have you ever had the realization that you're not as helpful a person as you thought you were? I'm in the middle of a wake-up call right now, taking a deeper look at my under-the-surface reluctance to be helpful to someone truly in need. I'm so ashamed, I have to confess. But this experience has made me look at other times when I have avoided helping someone because I thought someone else surely would, or because I was wary of getting too involved and, possibly, taken advantage of. Horrible thoughts, I know, but I'm wondering if I'm not the only one who feels this way at times. Sure, it's easy to help when I am not inconvenienced or pulled out of my comfort zone. But what about those other, more intimate situations when a person is seeking help? Well, let me confess here my avoidance to a dear woman's needs, then the blessing I received after "getting involved." Maybe it will help you look at someone in need (really look them in the eyes) with compassion rather than avoidance. Here goes . . .

I received an e-mail from a parent at my daughter's elementary school---a desperate mother who needed her daughter driven to school . . . and picked up, for an extended/indefinite period of time. She was given my e-mail by a person who knew we lived in the same area and thought it would be convenient to take her. I was reluctant to agree to the daily carpool, because it meant the girl arriving at 7:oo in the morning, hanging out with our family, and being subjected to our harried morning madness until we leave at 7:25. It also obligated me to help out in the afternoon, picking up her daughter and then meeting the mom and other children at a bus stop and driving all home every afternoon. I felt smothered already, even before accepting to help, so I simply ignored the e-mail, assuming she had other people to contact for help. But she persisted, until I finally agreed, during a desperate phone call one evening. During that phone call I learned the story behind her need:

She is a divorced mother of three children, all going to different schools. The mother is in school full time, working on a master's degree, trying to get a better job to raise her three children . . . alone. Her car had recently caught on fire, just as the new school year started. Now her extra money has to be saved in order to buy another car, which will take some time. I found out that she and her children walk about 2.5 miles before their school starts each morning (and again in the afternoon) to either catch the city bus (she and her son) or walk to a gas station where her younger daughter was getting picked up for school by someone else, who eventually stopped her services with no explanation.

So, I got involved. When I met her, all it took was one look in this woman's eyes, one look into her children's eyes, to see that NOT helping her was not an option. Her eyes were like my eyes; her children's eyes like my own children's eyes. Would I want to be ignored, passed off, or seen as a burden? Would I want my children to not be able to get to school? Would I want ANY major need unmet for me or my family? Of course not. Needless to say, I made an immediate friend in this woman. She's awesome, and so inspiring: in her strength, in her attitude, and in the grace with which she handles every unpleasant circumstance. She flows. She trusts. She is focused on a better tomorrow, a better future. She does not allow thoughts of scarcity (not having enough or not having needs met) to paralyze her. What a blessing for me to know her. I'm now fine with my role as driver for as long as she needs my help. We've bonded. I'm "involved." I got out of my "comfort zone" and headed straight into the unknown zone, where so much learning and growth and blessing awaits. And all it took was looking someone in the eyes and really seeing their situation as if it were my own.

The heart rock pictured above is particularly unique. It has two parts to it: the bottom is a piece of crystallized honeycomb coral; the top part (the heart rock) sits fused on the piece of fossilized coral. Two seemingly unrelated natural pieces have come together. This union is so special to me. It's almost as if the coral is "carrying" the heart rock. This is another natural-element example of how we are all called to carry one another in life. Doing so not only leads to a need being met--it also creates beauty. And in carrying another we also increase our opportunities of being carried when we are in need. The beauty of carrying and being carried by another changes us and reminds us that we are all united; we are all one.

A Heart Unto My Path

It had been at the end of a particularly emotional week for me when I came upon this heart, which is part of the natural coloration of the old cedar tree. I was surprised to have never noticed it before, because I pass it very often. Just as the saying goes: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear," the heart appeared in my field of vision when it was the right time to hear its message. It illuminated my path when I was feeling concerned about some life situations. It sent the clear message that "All is as it should be" and that God is always mindful of me. I felt that even though my day had started out with a general sense of loneliness and lack of clarity, I am never alone . . . ever. Reflecting on the world of spirit, I began to remind myself of the invisible world that is always working and weaving in my life: the Holy Spirit and angels, all working to remind me Whose I am. And I'm constantly thankful for the natural-world illuminations, such as hearts in nature, to direct my thoughts to a higher place.

I also noticed the significance of the fact that my "found" heart was on a tree, a cedar tree in particular. In Native American traditions, the cedar tree was thought to have strong protection and cleansing properties for people. Also, the cedar is a tough survivor, withstanding less-than-perfect environmental conditions; therefore it can teach us to anchor ourselves onto a secure foundation and reach not only toward the foundation (which for the tree would be the ground), but to move up, stretching to new heights. A wonderful contrast of darkness and light. This darkness is not the sort to be wary of. The tree does amazing things under the surface of the earth. In the darkness of the soil, it creates, receives nourishment, and prepares to enter it's journey upward. Through these silent roots, so much is taking place in the darkness of creation. Through this dark silence, the roots navigate instinctively, running as long and deep as the tree will need for support. Growth is slow, but steady. To much growth above the surface, and the tree will not be properly supported. Too many roots and not enough action above ground never allows the tree to reach its potential, denying the animals and humans it's canopy, fruit, nuts, beauty, and wood. The ecosystem benefits when a tree has a harmonious balance of darkness and light, silence and growth. They are essential for the success and growth of the tree.

Light and darkness. A wonderful contrast because they actually work together to create life. So when I'm experiencing my "dark" days, I can now understand that they will be perfectly balanced with light-filled ones in which I will come away from the dark circumstance closer to God and, just as important, closer to my true self.

An Unexpected Match

This picture might appear a little confusing, so let me explain. I found the orange-colored rock in the woods and was drawn to it because it was half heart-shaped, reminding me of how I am incomplete within my own soul without God residing in me and restoring my brokenness. You can't see from the picture, but along the back of this rock, a crystal band runs through it, bright and sparkly. I only discovered that feature after I took it home and scrubbed it clean. Of course, I was pleasantly surprised and felt that the rock now had even more value to me.

The other rock, the gray one, has many large, deep holes. It's really interesting to look at structurally. And it makes me wonder what caused all those holes millions of years ago. Rocks really are ancient masterpieces and windows to the past because so much history can be revealed by the study of their composition. Rocks are timeless, really, because they carry a bit of all time within their makeup.

When I saw the large, gray rock, I had a feeling that my half heart-shaped rock just might complete some visual picture of completeness for me if I worked with it a little. And almost effortlessly, I joined the two, creating what you see above . . . a picture of wholeness. The craggy, orange rock was released from its broken, unfulfilled state and realized its heart potential by joining with another seemingly broken, gaping rock. I think the match is beautiful, actually, even though the textures, colors, and ancient journey of the two rocks couldn't be more different.

Kind of reminds me of how God uses His people to heal one another. We all come from different backgrounds and have different wounds within us (represented by the craggy and gaping rocks). He is still the orchestrator of the restoration, but by people interacting with each other, sharing their brokenness and uniting on this journey, we can find moments of beauty and wholeness . . . even if it's not perfect beauty or perfect wholeness, which will only be found when we move on to the new earth that awaits. So, the imperfect union of our souls suffices, as I believe that this is just the tip of the iceberg of what is to come.

Broken Open

There's a large rock in the woods where I hike that is half buried in the middle of the trail and could easily be mistaken for a tree root. It caught my eye one day because the end that juts out of the ground has a circular/ring pattern on the tip. Nothing too impressive though. I often wondered if it might be some type of fossil, or just an unusually detailed edge. But it was too large and embedded to really look at. I'd notice it every now and again, but it was no show stopper. Just a little interesting, that's all.

And there's another rock I love on the same trail (see the picture at the top right corner of my blog page) with a cut-out heart shape in the rock. It's not too large, and it's easy to pick up. But that rock belongs in the woods. I would never take it. I love how the seasons frame it beautifully as it rests upon the ground, seemingly unchanging. It's a reminder of all the joys that can be found in nature.

But last weekend I passed the site of both of those rocks, and they were GONE! The cut-out heart rock had been lifted up from the ground and taken. Whereas the larger one had been hacked at and crudely dug up . . . evidence being that shards of the rock were sitting in the fresh hole. For some reason this really bothered me. I felt personally invaded. The things I had grown used to seeing and expected to be there were carted off in the blink of an eye.

On another day I decided to see if the rocks had been discarded off to the side, so I looked around in the woods near the area. While I never found the cut-out heart rock, I did discover something special about the larger one: First, I went to the large hole and rummaged through the fine shards. And to my surprise I found a heart rock with a crystal band running through it (see the picture above). While the person was hacking away at the rock, a quarter sized heart rock had formed (and been left behind unnoticed!). How cool! Then, a few feet away by the edge of the trail, I noticed two large remainder rocks, which were part of the large one, that had obviously been tossed aside. I looked at the rock chunks and immediately saw two hearts within them (see picture below). Suddenly I heard my message loud and clear . . .

Like a parallel in my life lately, the large rock literally had to be broken open and removed from a comfortable place of rest in order to experience the true beauty that lays just on the other side of complacency, apathy, and "good enough". There are some things I've held on to for too long, afraid that by facing the pain of releasing all that junk, it might be worse than simply holding tight to it. But over the past few years, I've slowly allowed myself to be broken open--actually it's more like I started with a crack here and there before I surrendered to the renewing and cleansing act of being truly broken open. I still surrender daily to God what doesn't work for me with the belief that God's plans are so much better for me than the plans I had fabricated. My plans included the beliefs that a certain person or thing would satisfy me, not to mention all the "stuff" I thought I needed to be fulfilled. Also, being broken open releases me from my old patterns of behavior and patterns of interacting with people that were not helping me to fulfill my purpose. It's scary to offer up ourselves to metaphorically be hammered at, or pick-axed at, or dug up from the comfy, soft earth we have positioned ourselves in. But then when would true beauty be discovered? Beauty will always be found through the humble act of being broken, experiencing the dark night of the soul, and having the courage to come through it, knowing you are not alone. God is the Creator, Breaker, and Restorer.

It is so!

"Even a STONE . . . could show you the way back to GOD, to the SOURCE, to YOURSELF."

Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

Together Alone

"A GOOD TRAVELLER HAS NO

FIXED PLANS

AND IS NOT INTENT

ON ARRIVING."
LAO TZU (570-490 BC)

Each season the trails I frequent offer a completely new look. I don't really have a favorite. Winter is great because I don't have to worry about ticks and snakes. Spring has so many blooming surprises popping up nearly every day. Summer allows for the trees to display their canopy of leaves, providing a true cozy-forest feel. And fall is magnificent with its brilliant colors and the leaves that fall like snowflakes.

As I walk these paths, I am reminded of how the seasons mirror our spiritual and physical journey. Spiritually winter symbolizes stillness, silence, and often the experience of "the dark night of the soul." Physically it reminds me of the reality of earthly death and slow movement. Spiritually spring symbolizes renewal, answered prayers after a dark time of waiting, and hope. Physically spring shows me the reproductive nature of the flowers, plants, animals, and all of life. This rebirth fills me with increasing energy and hope for the days ahead. Spiritually summer can feel like God is right by my side, even though He never left. Faith is brought forth again within me, allowing me to get into the flow of my spiritual side. Physically summer represents energy, productivity, and movement. Spiritually fall calls me once more toward introspection as the energy slows down toward stillness once again after the harvest of my spiritual pursuits have been brought forth. Physically fall reminds me that everything in this physical world has a birth and death cycle, which can often bring much emotional as well as physical pain. And then on to winter again, to experience the dark night of the soul . . . stillness . . . and silence within.

The path we journey on represents a physical as well as spiritual voyage. All of humanity is walking this path together . . . alone. I love this contradiction! Together/alone. Together/alone. We all have an individual identity that separates us from one another, a purpose we are meant to fulfill in life, an ancient message we are trying to remember. But always know that we are part of a whole . . . united. Yes, we take our earthly voyage in seeming isolation because no one really knows the workings of our minds and souls. But by remembering that we are part of One Source, it allows us to pay attention to the people around us and see that we all have the same goal: becoming reunited with the One Source.

Often I get so narrowly focused by only looking at my path. The way it winds and straightens, taking me through all four physical and spiritual seasons. I need to be aware of my surroundings and do a 360, looking for others who might have stumbled off the path, or who are falling behind, or who are too weak to go on. Those people are there. Heck! I'm often there! If I become aware, I will see that I'm not all alone on this path, though often it's easy to have tunnel vision and let my sense of momentum keep me from looking around at who might need some attention.

God is in all of the "off the path" details. Some of His most miraculous works are done "off the path," wouldn't you agree? "Off the path" might look like sitting up all night with a friend who is detoxing; or confronting a business partner about his white-collar crime, offering to love him through his repentance; or providing a safe place for a child who you know lives in danger, possibly putting yourself in harms way while finding a solution to the problem. "Off the path" is not often found in church. It's in the most unexpected places. So be an open channel to let the work of God be done through you. You will thank God when a divine encounter comes along, filling you with a peace and a knowing that that person was sent to do His work . . . to help you on your path. It's all part of the cycle, the circle. We will all need help; therefore we all must give help.

Remember: The goal is not to get to somewhere on our path. The goal is the path.

"Though we share this humble path, alone

How fragile is the heart.

Oh give these clay feet wings to fly

To touch the face of the stars.

Breathe life into this feeble heart

Lift this mortal veil of fear.

Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

We'll rise above these earthly cares."

Loreena McKennit "Dante's Prayer"

<

Fall at Your Feet

"He threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him."

Luke 17:16

The subject of feet came to my mind the other day as I was trail running. The leaves from fall have completly covered the trails, making it a bit treacherous to run (often large rocks or tree roots are buried just under the leaves). Any unexpected, uneven landing upon the trail can quickly turn an ankle or foot, resulting in a very painful sprain, or worse. Add three days of rain to the leafy, rocky trail-stew, and you might as well walk most of the way if you want to avoid injury . . . even with the right shoes. But I had walked long enough. And I was needing to exert more energy. And I was willing to take the risks . . . and not surprisingly, I turned my foot on a rock--but not too badly. Enough, though, to slow me down and take notice of my limitations that day. I was grateful not to be limping, grateful that my foot stabilized quickly, grateful that my feet could carry me yet again on the trails the next day without much more than a light ache. My feet take a lot of abuse and strain, but they are very powerful, taking me though a day, a month, a lifetime. My feet allow me to move forward, take action, and come running toward the ones I love. They also remind me of the humble acts of servanthood demonstrated by Jesus and many others in the Bible.

The Bible mentions feet often throughout both the Old and New Testament. I did a search for feet on biblegateway.com and was surprised not only to find the disciples washing Jesus' feet (serving), but Satan being crushed under our feet by "the God of Peace" (empowering): "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you." Romans 16:20. When I realize all that I am able to do through God's strength, I am so comforted. My strength alone is so frail. And if I ever think my strength alone is sufficient, I am painfully reminded of how human and unequipped I am to do battle on this journey.

I love Psalm 40:2: "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand." To me, this is a promise from God of redemption and salvation. The slimy pit represents my sin. He rescued me from that part of my life. He then takes hold of my feet and sets them on a rock, better known as Jesus, the Rock of my salvation. Jesus is the anchor where my feet will settle, without getting sprained, twisted, or snared. Notice that the word "stand" is used after Jesus has rescued us. The scripture says "a firm place to stand" (not sit). There is no shame in the rescue and redemption and former sin. There is only a God who is proud of my coming home to him, who wants me to stand tall in his love and grace.

And for that kind of love, I should gladly and eternally

FALL AT HIS FEET

in humble praise and thanks.

Heart Rocks

Heart rocks. This sounds like a rather childish topic. Certainly a female topic, one might conclude. But my experience with these rocks has been anything but childish, and certainly not limited to a female audience. It started in the summer of 2007, when I would go for a run in the woods as part of my exercise routine. My eyes are constantly watching the ground when I'm on a trail, so I know where to land each foot to avoid the all-too-common trail-running disaster of having my foot trip on a rock or root, sending me face-down on the dirt. So, ever aware, my eyes were watchful that day, leading me to see a familiar shape in the dirt, which stopped me in my tracks and led me back to the spot where I then saw my first heart rock. I picked it up, surprised at how, over time, nature had formed this rock into a common symbol in today's world. I have come to understand that shapes really have no meaning except for the meaning we give them.

Universally, the heart is associated with love~either in a romantic, spiritual, or friendship nature. But when I saw this rock, I knew immediately the meaning it had for me in the present moment, and it made me smile. It was God's way of using an earthly symbol to send me a message of love and a promise of guidance from Him. I knew this to be so because earlier that year the phrase Focus on the Heart was spoken to my spirit. It was spoken to me the way many of us hear God speak to us~through an inner voice in our spirit. After I had heard the phrase Focus on the Heart in my spirit, I took it to mean I needed to be aware of an inner transformation that would be taking place within me. And these heart rocks were just one of the many signs along the way that assured me God would remain with me during this transformation, which is still taking place within me.

My first heart rock was special because I loved the way it felt when I held it. It wasn't a perfectly formed, perfectly rounded heart; instead, it was irregular in a very particular place~the place that made it special. When I gripped it between my thumb and index finger, my thumb landed in an indention that can only be described as a "thumbprint." My mind instantly filled with thoughts as my thumb rested on this "thumbprint": God's image is imprinted on my heart. I am made in God's image. This heart rock, with it's imperfect, irregular parts, stands out in my eye as a perfect creation from God. Just like I am imperfect, yet perfect in God's eyes through His grace.

This little, insignificant rock held such meaning for me. It still does. Because I was open to receiving a message from the natural world God created, I grabbed hold of the present moment and found God's love in a heart-shaped rock. The greatest lessons and surprises in life are often found in the simplest moments of daily life.

From that day on, I began to "happen upon" many more heart rocks for another year or so. They all carried a similar message for me: You are not alone. I will guide you through your transformation if you stay focused on Me. Remember that Love is always the highest good you can offer the world~love for yourself, Me, and the world.