A PLANTING

On a beautiful fall day in County Kerry, Ireland my husband Kevin and I are driven to Muckross Abbey in a horse dawn carriage; sun streams across our faces as we gaze at  the lakes and majestic forest all around us. I beg for us to stop at the ruins so I can have a romp around, the driver concedes wondering at my delight. Each building holds the prayers of the centuries, the stories of the monk's lives, the tragedies that befell them at Cromwell's hands. I turn a corner and am awe-struck; in the middle of the Abbey an ancient Yew tree is growing, planted hundreds of years ago by the Fransiscans.

I have my own ruins, my own tragedy, but if I look carefully I see something was planted in me- life, joy, love, peace, goodness all dwell deeply within. It is in my boys' eyes and my daughter's smile, I am in awe of their dreams and their lives. I walk prayerfully through my ruins inviting God's Presence to meet me there to reclaim some things that were lost. Have you any ruins that need visiting?


Medicine from Holy Scripture:

"They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore places long devestated." Isaiah 61:3, 4

INTRUDERS OR AN INVITATION

Our first stop in Ireland wasn't for a pint of Guinness, but for a taste of history; we sought a monastery established in the 6th century. At Glendalough we were enchanted and drawn deeply into the mystical beauty of the Irish country and Celtic Christianity. What struck  me was the swirling, biting wind stripping the golden leaves and causing them to dance in the air all around us. The bubbling brook led us to the ruins as we took the trail through the moss covered woods.

So like my life, I thought- ruins, broken down buildings, places where there had been invasions and property stolen. As I stood steeped in mystical beauty I realized that ruins can be made holy; the monks from centuries ago prayed through the violence of the intruders interrupting their holy lives. Could I do the same? Could I look back on ruins and pray through them asking the Holy Spirit to bring life and holiness from loss and destruction?


Medicine from Ancient Writings:

We shall go forth to our business with much security if we have made God propitious by prayer; this way we shall have no enemy. Or if we do, we shall laugh him to scorn, having God propitious. There is war in the market place; the affairs of every day are a fight, they are a tempest and a storm. We therefore need arms: prayer is a great weapon. We need favorable winds; we need to learn everything so as to go through the length of the day without shipwrecks and wounds."
St John Chrysostom 4th Century Homilies on Hebrews Homily XIV NPNF1; 9.437

REBUILDING AND REJOICING

So I am on vacation (holiday) in Ireland and have been swept away by the wind at the Cliffs of Moher, but also by the intense beauty and haunting history of the monastic ruins. I can't tell you all about it now, but stay tuned, when I return home I will write about each site and the experience of walking, praying and being there. High crosses, friaries, monasteries, oratories, burial sites; all simply stunning. For now let me say that God has challenged the picture of my childhood as a place of desolation.


Medicine from Holy Scripture:
"And they shall rebuild the old ruins, they shall raise up the former desolation and they shall repair the ruined cities, the desoltations of many generations." Isaiah 61:4-5

AFRAID OF MY SOUL'S STORM

This thread pulls me backwards in time, will the tree fall on us?  Tall pines wrap our home like a shelter in the summer, but now they threaten with their imposing height swaying in the winds of the upcoming hurricane. A tree? My father fell under the weight of a tree and died at age 52. I am not that old, but so near and I bear the sorrow of those days, fatherless and alone. Why did tragedy leave such a deadly blow on my spirit, why does sorrow engulf me so? I can see the levee of my soul giving way under the waves of sadness and God reminds me, "Get out the sandbags, shore up the weakness inside." I find comfort in the One who quiets me in His presence and speaks through His Word.



Medicine from Holy Scripture:   "I am a Father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, He leads forth the prisoners with singing." Psalm 68:5-6


Medicine from Ancient Writing:
"Solitude is of the greatest purpose for stilling our passions. For just as animals are more easily controlled when they are stroked, lust and anger, fear and sorrow, the soul's deadly foes, are better brought under the control of reason , after being calmed by inaction, and where there is no continuous stimulation." St. Basil's Letter to St. Gregory Fourth Century

SWIRLING

I sit in the crisp morning air waiting; slowly I stretch my tiny feet to reach the sandy earth below and begin again. Every movement is purposeful, timed, exact, creating the perfect tension as I touch down and make the swing coil tight as a spring. Suddenly the intensity breaks as I fly out of control spinning wildly in the air unaware of the world around me, swirling as if in a centrifuge that could sift and sort things. Breathless I stop, but order is not restored, no one is there to push me and so I swirl again in the chaos of childhood. My own children have no need of such a ride, such a thrill, though they may enjoy it life doesn't demand it. I am here to hold their shoulders, giggling and laughing as the leaves dance around us they scream, "Mommy, push me again." My hands rest gently on them as I carefully send them flying straight and free.

Is there some place in your life where you feel forsaken? If so, take heart, ask God to show you where this pain comes from and invite Him into that loneliness. He longs to touch your heart with His unfailing love.



Medicine from Sacred Scripture:

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget you, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of My hand." Isaiah 49:15-16

A LONG WAY FROM HOME

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Glass shattered, as I was thrown across the room, blood poured from my hands dripping onto the kitchen floor, and I knew I was in trouble; the scene crashes through my mind so many times, like some PTSD siren going off in my head. "It wasn' t that bad," I try telling myself, but truth has a way of setting us free; wounds have to be healed, one way or another. My body was taken to the doctor so many years ago; but what of my heart and soul, how would their sore weeping ever be mended? Life hurts, some lives hurt more than others, but there is medicine we can apply to our soul that brings hope and restoration and love to us. Our journey will surprise us with incredible joy, intense sadness, and inconsolable grief; come and shed some light on your path.

 

STEP BY STEP

Cold, biting wind greeted us as we crested the top of Mount Kearsarge early last Monday morning, but all expectation of a beautiful clear day with sweeping vistas of fall foliage lay dashed at our mud-splattered feet; we had hiked into a low-lying cloud.

"This isn't what we expected."
"We hadn't planned on this."

Such simple statements filled the raw mountain air exposing more of our hearts than intended. Our path up had been steep and a bit treacherous with the night's rainfall losing the rock beneath us; how like life. Our way will include heart ache, disappointment, deployment, failures, frustrations and loss. How will we journey?

As we descended into the valley we laughed as we found the views we had longed for when the sun peered through the gray pouring down a ray of hope.