And Live Your Life!

No one says it just like Mary Oliver.  Enjoy this reading and then live into the moment!

Mary Oliver » Mary Oliver reads Mornings at Blackwater

"What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen."  Mary Oliver

Dominus regit me

aka Psalm 23:

"The Lord is my shepherd; *I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures *and leads me beside still waters.

He revives my soul *and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; * for you are with me;  your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; * you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over.

Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."

The psalm today reminds me of my grandfather's funeral - none of you reading this would be surprised by that.  That is not exactly groundbreaking news as this Psalm is very popular for funerals (although it wasn't used at my grandfathers).  You also find it a lot in books and dramas when people are in dire need and scared beyond reason, reaching into their core for courage.  At our core of despair or weakness we find God.  When we let go of all pretense of being able to control our world and/or anything that happens to us in that world, we find God.  Always with us, never leaving us, standing with us, sometimes carrying us, leading us, guiding us, being our Shepherd.  God our Savior.

I have studied this psalm in bible study - fascinating study, will have to make sure I add the book to my resource list.  The study opened up the psalm for me in whole new ways.  Not long after I went on a women's retreat that used this psalm for lectio divina.  Powerful!  The words that stayed strong for me that day were "You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me;"  

I have worked with that verse a lot in the past year; wondering who "those" were.  Only to discover that "those" weren't who(s) as I first thought - "those" where what(s).  What are the chains that bind me?  What are the fears I hold on to that hold me back from being all that God has called me to be?  It is an interesting examination.  If we take a moment to stop looking at other people and how they effect our life and instead concentrate on ourselves for a moment a whole new perspective can be born.  

I had my church visit today and the sermon focused on the abundant life - not necessarily a life of prosperity as some would have us believe is a life of abundance.  But rather on The Abundant Life that God invites us into - the abundant life that asks to bless us as we stand vulnerable.  Vulnerable - to wipe off the image we present to the world for approval and sit with ourselves as who we truly are, all that we deem good and just and all that we clothe in shame or fear of being uncovered.  When I read "in the presence of those who trouble me" I imagine my fears personified.  I imagine each fear standing on the outside of the table (imagine the table from C.S. Lewis "Voyage of the Dawn Treader") as I have a chair pulled out for me at the head of the table and the table continues to be set abundantly.  I am with God, Three in One, Oneness as whole God.  And those that trouble me can not approach me, they just look on, in awe of the table, in awe of the Presence.  In this imagery I am peace and joy and love and I see "those" but I can't feel those.  I can only feel Wholeness and I am blessed in the knowledge of dominus regit me, my "Lord rules me." 

The Lord is my Shepherd and leads me into The Abundant Life.

Flying Above The Clouds

As I sit on this airplane heading towards home and my grandfather’s funeral, looking out the window through the clouds to the model train looking earth and landscape, I wonder if this in anyway resembles God’s view from Eternity?

Funny thing about death, funerals and grief – the irony – they grant you time.  First is the phone call.  I am not sure which part is harder, the making of or the receiving of the call.  How do you say, “Grandpa died”?  How do you hear and accept, “your Grandpa died”?  Then there is the rush to plan the funeral.  There were plans and decisions to be made.  I have a large family and as the younger generation I do not even begin to make the pecking order.  I just wait for the phone call on place and time and then make my reservations.

Now the rush of details is over and I sit with Time.  I sit and look out my window at the clouds and we are just far enough up that I can still see the outline of houses and roads, farmland and forest.  I think about the fact that all we stake our lives on, all we spin our wheels for, all the time, money and energy we expend on these tangible items and ideas that from the sky look minute.  I think about the tornadoes that have ripped through the country leaving thousands of people homeless and without any tangible pieces of their life to hold in their hands.  How easily what we build can be laid flat.  The time I am given and my grandfather’s death provoke my thoughts to the building of a life.  What is the foundation?  “From dust you were created, to dust you shall return.”  You enter this world taking your first breath away from God and leave it taking your first breath back into God.

On what foundation did my grandfather build his life?  On what foundation shall I build mine?  Getting ready to leave on this trip by myself was very strange.  I love to travel, I long to travel at times, to see the world I do not know except from books and movies.  But the reality of travel is different.  I kept hold of my tiny carry on luggage feeling as though I was missing something.  And I was.  I am missing my husband and his instructions and mapped out directions.  I am missing my kids and their ipods and dsi’s and backpacks filled with snacks and gum.  I began to wonder what if I didn’t return to this normal life, this foundation I had built.  What have I not said to my husband and kids that they need to know from my heart?  What have I not done for my family and my friends and my neighbors?  Where have I not gone?  What have I not proclaimed?

When we die we take nothing with us, we enter the world naked and leave the world naked.  And yet how many hours a day do I expend time and money and energy on all things physical and tangible that have no eternal meaning?  I believe all I truly have is my Spirit.  I also believe my spirit cries out in surrender to the One Spirit, the Creator, the Almighty.  What will my spirit bring home to The Spirit?  What stories will I share, what sorrows will I lay down?  What joys will I uplift?  I can’t imagine falling into the arms of Jesus and saying “well I had about $100 in savings but that won’t help with the mortgage and I totally forgot to clean the bathroom and sweep the floor before I joined you here.”

I have this image of the Eternal as being a time of Rest and Peace and complete and utter freedom.  My grandfather was in the war.  He saw and experienced the dark side of human nature, the stark reality of evil and how it can be used to harm and degrade others.  He was severely injured, what I have recently come to know as a Wounded Warrior.  I believe it was mortar, although I do not know much about weaponry.  What I do know is he went to war a young man, full of life, with a young wife full of love waiting at home for him.  He came home a man who had seen too much and his body severely wounded.  My father said something very striking, that my grandfather had “lived his hell here on earth.”  I took this in as I prayed for my grandpa and his crossing to the other side.  I have this distinct image of my grandpa passing right through many of the stages the rest of us might need to go through; straight into the arms of Jesus.  I see him as that young man before he marched on to war; standing up straight, mischief in his eyes and joy in his heart.  Ready to claim again who he was before life and war created who he was to become.  I wonder how different his life might have been if he hadn’t gone to war?  Or if he had gone but not been injured?  I will never know because he never shared those thoughts or feelings with me.

It is interesting to me today to note that we have a separate identity with each person who knows us.  My grandfather is known in different ways to each one of us who will attend his funeral.  My grandma knows him as a man, a husband.  My dad knows him as a Father, I know him as my grandpa.  I have my sacred memories of who he was to me and how he was with me.  Sometimes as we get older we learn more about people.  It seems as we grow out of childhood people feel they can share stories to help us gain perspective on the whole person.  I appreciate this knowledge of different facets, but another part of me doesn’t want to know.  He is my grandpa.  He would lie on the couch and I would sit on the floor next to him and he would pat my shoulder or tickle my ear and we would sit and watch gunsmoke together.  I tried to find gunsmoke on tv the night he died, I wanted to watch it and feel close to him.  I know he loved me, I have no doubt.  What did he teach me?  Quietness and stillness is strength and that men on the outside can appear strong and intimidating, but can be just as tender on the inside.  And my grandpa taught me we are who we are and the world goes on around us.  I didn’t realize he looked different.  He was just my grandpa, always has been, always would be.  It wasn’t until someone asked me what happened to him that made me do a double take and realize he didn’t look like everyone else.  And the truth is he taught me that it doesn’t matter what we look like, it matters who we are.  It matters how we love, it matters how we care and serve.

I guess now that he is above the clouds and standing on the balcony of eternity he knows all that he taught me.  I don’t know that I ever told him in our life together.  In my heart of hearts I know he knows I adore and loved him and my grief is strong in missing him and my tears also shine with joy for the time I did have with him.  

Hugs and love to you my grandpa until we meet again!