JOIN ME

The stars still sing in the sky as morning begins, reminding me of the dawn our son set out for his adventures. All was darkness and unknown weeks ago heading to the airport, and now we find him taking leaps of faith and grasping life by the hand and truly living it- so amazing!

In the dark new things grow, old things pass away~ bulbs planted in this cold autumn ground will bear beautiful flowers next spring, but there will be waiting and longing, bitter cold winds and storms to face before the thaw.

I am letting go of this writing space and journeying to another... new beginnings are never easy. Join me as I write Apply The Medicine (www.applythemedicine.com)... bringing healing with old, true words: "Let us know ourselves. Let us know our wounds. For then we shall be able to apply the medicines. For he who does not know his disease, will give no care to his weaknesses." John Chrysostom Fourth Century

Watching the sun rise this morning, the tall dark pines silhouetted against the night sky, I marvel as the day brings a touch of glory. Faint glimmers of light begin, may the same be true of our hearts and lives and souls.

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

"I will give you treasures of darkness, riches hidden in secret places. So that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, who summons you by name." Isaiah 45:3

PIES, PLAYING GAMES AND PRUNING

We had a big mulberry tree in our front yard growing up with messy purple fruit that stained our feet when we played under its leaves. After dinner we would go out there to a game of kickball with second base under the trunk of that tree. When dusk finally drove us into the house we'd have to scrub our feet raw; I'm not sure why, but we never thought to wear shoes. I mostly remember hiding. I'd crawl up and shelter myself under the big leafy branches and try to peer through to see the blue sky. I would go there when I was frightened, lonely, needed to think. I could see and hear most everything, but didn't have to respond.

How interesting now, that a lifetime has passed, I am asked to be a tree- the kind that shelters a family, welcomes home, protects and provides nurture and roots for those who fly away. 

We'll pick apples this coming weekend in a glorious orchard sitting above acres of crimson forests; it's the season to pick apples. It is my season to live the tension of letting go and welcoming, of growing and pruning. I must wake up and live in the life I have been given, my roots going deep into God's love, no more picking fruit from the childhood tree that hid me. I never did like mulberry pie. I have always created what I loved and this will mean apple pie, not a seedy purple pie, and peach jam not blackberry, salsa not canned tomatoes. I have choices that call me to my true self and to embracing what I love, who I love and how I am loved.

I wonder what you are creating and what fruit you are using?

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

 “He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in due season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.” Psalm 1:3

FREE

Two tiny feathered birds sit on the chair next to mine; the sea breeze ruffles their feathers yet they seem unperturbed. Perching for a few moments longer, they gaze my way and then they're gone. I immediately recall Jesus' words telling me I am worth more than many sparrows. How can we know our worth intuitively when our journey is uncertain or our soul unclear? I look here or there, but value eludes me like some misplaced decimal point. There is much to treasure in my life and I am tempted to place my value there until I have set roots down where God would have wings.

The birds fly off darting between sun-drenched chairs and find rest near the edge of the sea shore. I sit still and wait for movement, wanting my soul to shift somehow, to be carefree and unencumbered. I feel fettered by an identity based on outward expectations, and the shackles are chaffing my little wings.

As I walk the coast my heart nearly breaks as I listen to a man berate his wife, “Comon', how can your heart -rate be up? We haven't even walked far. You gotta get up and move. This ain't helpin'!” Is she not worth more than many sparrows? Can I let go of others' expectations and embrace the words of the One who created me?

Could the woman resting on the bench have said, “Please, I'm tired, let me be; go on without me.” If I had had the courage I would have said, “Stop, now, can't you see she's tired?” I wonder if God sometimes looks at us as we are trembling and says, “Hush, child, I know you are afraid.”

I wonder if you are flying free?

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” Matthew 10:29-31

BUCKET LIST

As the sun danced on the waves a mother pulled her son into the water; he had a small blue pail in his hands and as hard as she was tugging towards the waves, he was fighting to go back to shore. I could hear her screaming at him: “Come on, we need to fill your pail.” The image haunted me: the struggle of the little boy to avoid collecting things he didn't want anyways.

Down the beach a bit there was another mother with a tiny toddler- she was so much braver. She had no agenda and her child stood independent and free- falling when the waves crashed over her and picking herself up again while her guardian hovered near by.

 I wonder what we try to put in other people's buckets and what our expectations are for them? We live in relationship with one another, but I cannot be filling your bucket and you cannot expect to give me a list of what you want me to put in my bucket. This rings through our whole lives. We look for the approval of our parents long after they have left this earth- sure that if we do this one thing or succeed in that way we will be special to them and find our value. And on it goes to the next generation, even silent expectations wreck havoc in our families' lives.

As I was heading back toward my little pile of beach things I saw a son fall down (he had no pail) and his father gently picked him up and kissed the top of his head. It was simple, sweet, sensitive and restored the child's balance in every way.

Is this the gesture of our lives- to bless, to, “kiss the tops of the heads” of those we know? And do we feel the Father's embrace as He kisses the crown of our heads as well?

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

"May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live." Psalm 119:76