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

SOMEONE TO HELP

On a recent family jaunt around our neighborhood pond we happened upon a baby turtle on the side of the road. My daughter decided to rescue him from danger and proceeded to carry him home. I'm not quite sure how the turtle felt about this; he closed his eyes tight and pulled in his little legs. Do turtles have emotions? Fear would have been appropriate. It is one thing to be lost and without hope and quite another to be scooped up and carried in some one's hands.

Disoriented, confused and abandoned. Sinking feelings overwhelm us when we are pulled from the safety of the known, when we literally lose our footing. The turtle did alright until he was dropped! He recovered unscathed, though; my husband knelt down, carefully picked him up again and carried him. We set him gently down near the edge of our pond and his little turtle legs propelled him out into the water. If turtles could talk I wonder if he would say that his journey was his rescue?

Would I? Would you? When all around is unknown and change and challenge do you pull into your shell to hide? Do you brave the world trying to make it on your own? What if Someone promised to be with you always and help you on the journey home? We do not need to fear. God assures us from Isaiah 41:10, “Do not fear, I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you.” When we lose our way and the journey is long and treacherous we have a God who says, “I am here and I will help you, small one; I see your tears and sadness; I know your pain. I will comfort and sustain you. Trust Me child, to hold you and heal you.”

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

“In all their distress He too was distressed, and the angel of His Presence saved them; He lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.” Isaiah 63:9

COMFORT COSTS

A red cardinal just flew up through the tree outside my window and sits perched on a low hanging branch. No babies to watch, this bird freely soars. An empty nest. A quiet house seems to betray the fact that the boisterous or moody or social one has now flown the coop. Stillness gnaws at the edges of who we are.

How to love and live freely and yet well? How to let go and let God have our children, our friends, our very lives? When roles and responsibilities identify who we are there will be restless yearning as these change- one must face one's self unadorned.

I was accused today of being a, “hands off” mother. And would I want to be one whose talons are forever cutting into the soul of the child who is really not my own? As I allow God to comfort me in the losses there have been sleepless nights and tears, but there has been Presence and joy. Comfort costs me my wants and desires and asks me to create a space where God can meet me. That place is called emptiness. Open your hands and let them go- in this freedom they can live and you will soar.

Medicine from Sacred Writing:

“The God of mercies and Father of all comfort comfort all our hearts, both those who are oppressed by grief and those held down with any other sorrow.”

St. John Chrysostom Homilies on Second Corinthians Homily 1.7; NPNF1.276

HEART-BREAKING BREAD BAKING

Goodbye begins with baking four loaves of cranberry bread, maybe not in your home, but in ours it does. As my hands are busy measuring and making my heart pounds with a hundred different questions: Did I make his favorite food? Did I have enough conversations that reached his heart? Have we said all we need to say to send this one into the world ready?

Your house may not be filled with the fragrance of baking, but this one is- I love in the ways I hold most dear and trust that all this food has fed their souls as well. Perhaps the cinnamon rolls have spoken welcome and belonging when I have not, maybe the oatmeal bread has filled their hearts with warmth and a sense of home as nothing else will. I do what I can do- and you will do the same. You will try to cram all the years of a child growing into so many hugs and so many words. It is enough, they will remember, and you will always be home if you are willing to let go; if you do not, there is no place to return to. One cannot return when one is tethered.

So, be brave, bake the bread, do the shopping- whatever will settle your heart's questions and know love will bring them home. Crumbs of cranberry bread left on the counter remind me that Saturday's plane ride is fast approaching, but as I plan elaborate meals this one informs me he is leaving today for the call of Mount Mansfield and a long bike ride. “Mom, I'll be back Thursday...” for a few days and then the long goodbye.

Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain...” Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4, 5