Advent, Day 11: A bouquet for God

Kitchen window bouquet, December 2024

How to pray all day long...

I like to imagine that every thought, every exchange, every feeling, every encounter is a flower that I can offer to God. 

... the flower of a conversation with a friend.

... the flower of thoughts while drinking the first cup of coffee.

... the flower of concern or anxiety - large and small.

... the flower of the unexpected.

... the flower of listening.

... the flower of imperfection.

Sometimes I even extend my hand and make a gesture like I'm giving away a flower. 

By the end of the day, I've given God a whole bouquet. 

* I first came across the idea of giving God a bouquet from Corrie ten Boom:
"When people come up to me and give me a compliment, I take each remark as if it were a flower.  At the end of the day, I lift up the bouquet of flowers I have gathered throughout the day and say, 'Here you are Lord, it's all yours." 

You make the clearing

Driving West, September 2024

 

On long jumbled days

when my thoughts refuse to clear

You make the clearing

The Cloud of Unknowing

Summer Reading, August 2024

                        God, to you all hearts are open, 

                        to you all longings speak, 

                        and to you no secret thing is hidden. 

                        I beg you -- 

                        purify the intentions of my heart 

                        through the unspeakable gift of your grace, 

                        so I can love you with all I am 

                        and praise you for all you are. 

                        Amen.

* Tonight is an exception. I usually use my own words, but the prayer from the preface of "The Cloud of Unknowing" has become one of my favorites.

The Wisdom of Redwoods: Reflections from a Silent Retreat

Watercolor Trees, August 2024

                     Oh Lord, 
                    

                    You are the dreaming tree

                          I have fixed my hopes 

                          and prayers to branches 

                          who shelter birds 

                          and barefoot children

                    You are the scent of 

                        magnolia and orange

                        You are the taste of crushed mulberries

                        that tell my mother 

                        where I've been

                    You are bright 

                        with the yellow 

                        of paloverde and huisache 

                        the pink of rosebud, 

                        tulip and rain tree

                    You are fixed with a rope swing

                        we dare each other to climb 

                        and catch hold

                        taking a freefall of delight 

                        under your blessed canopy

* Last Saturday, I attended a silent retreat gathered around the redwoods and trees as images for the spiritual journey. I recalled particular trees that had been part of my childhood, especially at my home and the homes of my grandparents. The prayer poem comes out of my reflections. 

A prayer for freedom

Antique postcard, July 2024

Lord, set us all free

set us free to love this world

set us free to love

New every morning

First Light, June 2024
Heber Springs, Arkansas

New every morning is your love, great God of light, 
and all day long you are working for good in the world. 
Stir up in us desire to serve you, 
to live peacefully with our neighbors and all your creation, 
and to devote each day to your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ. 
Amen.

A Liturgy for Morning Prayer, Upper Room Worship Book

Our December

Advent Parament, Magnolia UMC

Light the quiet way

of real hope, peace, joy and love

through our December 

* A couple of things: I love that Magnolia UMC has kept the old paraments - the materials and craftsmanship are beautiful - you can tell they have been around for many years.  In some churches, these kinds of paraments are stacked away in a closet somewhere because they are considered too old fashioned. Seeing this beautiful cloth connects me to a previous generation and long tradition of faithfulness. The second note: As the year comes to an end, December seems to mark the end of a chapter, not just a calendar - I am feeling the culmination of the year. 

Signs

Starry Rosinweed, May 2023

 

Signs of your presence

mark the shadowed path into

a sunlit clearing

Real Beauty and Real Pain

Poppies, April 2023

Open my eyes to

the real beauty and the real

pain of those I love 

* Over the last few days, I have come to know that many people I love are in pain. Pain of uncertainty,  pain in their body, pain in their family and relationships, pain of transitions. My eyes seek beauty everyday in the created world and today I acknowledge that pain is a real part of the world too. What can I do to comfort? What can I do to listen? How am I praying for those I love? For those in pain? How am I honest about my own pain? And how it is soothed (not solved) by beauty? Lord, have mercy. 

These Autumn Days

Ruellia, October 2022

 May I be fluent

in the language of blessing

for these autumn days

My Prayer

Coral Bells, October 2022

 

My prayer travels wide

finding who it is meant for,

then winds its way home

* For months I have prayed for the people of Ukraine and carried them on my heart. Today was my volunteer shift at the food pantry and six young women walked in. They had just arrived from Ukraine in the last couple of weeks. One woman spoke English and I was able to share with her that I had been praying for her country and would continue to pray - listening to her experience was like listening to a friend. She came to the U.S. with only a backpack and is now making her way with her 2 school aged children. She hopes to return home after the war. Her parents are still there, taking shelter in the basement when the bombs are falling. We embraced and I hope to see her again. 

A hopeful prayer

Fourth of July, 2022

May we know freedom

and the peace of living as

good friends and neighbors

 

Pieces

Puzzle Pieces in the Street, July 2022

       

        For the one who has lost something that was an important piece of their life,

                    Lord, have mercy.

        

        For the one whose heart is broken into pieces by the pain of grief,

                    Lord, have mercy.

        For the one who looks to the future with a handful of pieces, not knowing how they fit together,

                    Lord, have mercy.

        For the one who is learning to gather the pieces they have found along the way,

                    Lord, have mercy.

        For all of us who long for wholeness. 

                    Lord, have mercy.

     

Every morning you'll hear me at it again.

Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life on your altar

and watch for fire to descend. 

Psalm 5:3 (The Message)

Encircle us

White Dinner Plate Hibiscus, May 2022

In the circle of

your unfailing compassion

we can be made new

A prayer for when we feel twisted

Dandelion, May 2022

    

Help us Lord, 

        when our words become twisted,

        when our good intentions become twisted,

        when our self control becomes twisted,

        when our recollections become twisted,

        when the peace between us becomes twisted,

        when __________ becomes twisted,

    

    May the curves be straightened, and the rough places made smooth. (Luke 3:5 NLT)

        

        In your mercy, Amen.

    

 

Faces in the Crowd, Day 12: Good Friday

Green Aura Crowd by Hannah Lane

 This post is the end of an on-going Lenten series that began Ash Wednesday. 

Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side,
while he dismissed the crowds.

And after had had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray.    

When evening came, he was there alone," (Matthew 14:22-23)

+

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." (Matthew 9:36)

The days of Lent and my Lenten practice for this year have led to Holy Week and to this day of Good Friday. Here are a few things I have learned over the last few weeks of prayer and exploration.

• There are many faces and aspects of myself that make up the "inner crowd" - some have been easy to name - others remain known only to God for now. 

• Engaging in soul work, making new discoveries and connections is both rigorous and revealing. 

• Jesus has more compassion for us than we have for ourselves- but we can learn from him. The compassion that Jesus shows to us becomes compassion that we can show to ourselves and others. 

• Sharing the journey with friends and companions is a gift.

• Art can help us look inward and make the movement from head to heart. 

• Choosing a few scriptures to frame these days and spending time with them has opened up Jesus's life in new ways. 

• The Lenten journey is not a straight path to Easter and Resurrection - there are many turns and detours. 

In Hannah Lane's painting, I see a crowd full of life and color who has been gathered in - each one belongs to the whole. I feel a moment of acceptance, joy and harmony -  even if it's not always that way - it sometimes can be.

Today's vista & prayer:

• Did you take on a specific Lenten practice this year? What has been your experience? What have you learned about yourself and God over these days?
• How does Hannah Lane's painting speak to you?
• We pray: Jesus, long ago you dismissed the crowd to be alone with God. On another occasion you saw the crowd and were moved with compassion. Teach me the ways of compassion so I might become a giver of compassion in my corner of the world. Amen.

 

Faces in the Crowd, Day 11

Around the Bend by Padraig McCall

This post is part of an on-going Lenten series that began Ash Wednesday. 

Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side,
while he dismissed the crowds.

And after had had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray.    

When evening came, he was there alone," (Matthew 14:22-23)

+

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." (Matthew 9:36)

As spring arrives, I find myself spending more and more time outside - and less time giving attention to the "inner crowd." I started this series as a focus for Lent - to see if I could name some of the faces that are part of my interior world. The aspects of myself I would like to dismiss and the aspects that Jesus meets with compassion.

Today I name the part of me that looks "around the bend" to see what's next. I want to know where life is leading and I want to skip over today and see it now. That aspect keeps me leaning towards an unknown future, guessing, speculating, and planning - and I miss today. I miss the ways that God is present in this moment, in this day. 

In Padraig McCall's painting, I am reminded that life bends like the road - into an unknown destination that will be revealed at the right time and not a minute before. I feel invited to take in the view from here and appreciate the beauty and life of "here" and "now."

Today's vista & prayer:

• In what ways are you tempted to look "around the bend"? 
• How does Padraig McCall's painting speak to you?
• We pray: Jesus, long ago you dismissed the crowd to be alone with God. On another occasion you saw the crowd and were moved with compassion. There is in me the desire to look ahead, even to skip ahead. By your grace I will plant my feet and my heart in the present moment - where you meet me with compassion. Amen.

 

Faces in the Crowd, Day 9

Full Body Self Portrait by Mattis Grunsky

 This post is part of an on-going Lenten series that began Ash Wednesday. 

"Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side,
while he dismissed the crowds.

And after had had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray.    

When evening came, he was there alone," (Matthew 14:22-23)

+

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." (Matthew 9:36)

We are about mid-way through Lent. Yesterday was the Third Sunday of Lent and there are two more Sundays before Palm Sunday. I'm remembering all the years I have either given something up or taken something on as a Lenten practice. I think of the optimism at the beginning, the hopes I have for the practice to open an experience of honesty and depth. The desire to walk with Jesus in prayer and reflection, remembering his life and death and life. It's about this time, when the initial shine and enthusiasm fade and the hard work of staying with the practice, and staying with Jesus begins. Will I give up? Will I get distracted? Will I fade away? Will I double down in some sort of feat of strength? Or will I just continue to be as present as I can? As Rebecca Wells asks in one of her novels, "How tender can we bear to be?"

Since Ash Wednesday I have been considering these two gospel occasions from Matthew where Jesus is with the crowd. I've identified and named some of the faces from my own "inner crowd" - and found that Jesus meets my inner crowd with more compassion than I do. Some members of the inner crowd are for me to name in private - which is likely true for you also. 

Where will we go from here as we stride more deeply into Lent? Time will tell - the day itself will tell. 

When I look at Grunsky's self portrait, I see a relaxed, open posture - and his raised hand and sign of willingness to be-with, and to go. What does it feel like to take that posture into the day and into the days ahead?

Today's vista & prayer:

• If you have adopted a practice for Lent, what have you noticed over the last few weeks since Ash Wednesday?   
• How does Grunsky's painting speak to you?
• We pray: Jesus, long ago you dismissed the crowd to be alone with God. On another occasion you saw the crowd and were moved with compassion. Grant  me with the grace of staying with you this day so that now matter where I go or what I do, I am aware of your presence. Amen.
 

 

Faces in the Crowd, Day 8

Benched by Lisa Molitor

This post is part of an on-going Lenten series that began Ash Wednesday. 

"Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side,
while he dismissed the crowds.

And after had had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. 

When evening came, he was there alone," (Matthew 14:22-23)

+

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." (Matthew 9:36)

The pain of disappointment is the face  from my "inner crowd" that has been present the last few days. When something doesn't go as I wished and prayed for. Disappointment feels deflating - at just the time when I need energy to gather resources and change direction. I want Jesus to dismiss the pain of disappointment the same way he dismissed the crowd in the 14th chapter of Matthew's gospel. Instead, Jesus is with me in the pain of disappointment. He sighs deep sighs with me - and with you. 

The woman in Lisa Molitor's painting sits herself all the way to the edge of the bench - and her posture seems slumped and curled. Her hand holds the armrest almost as if she's steadying herself. She gazes into the unseen distance.

Today's vista and prayer:

• Have you felt the pain of disappointment recently? 
• How does Molitor's painting speak to you?
• We pray: Jesus, long ago you dismissed the crowd to be alone with God. On another occasion you saw the crowd and were moved with compassion. Be with me in the pain of disappointment. Let me know the warmth and steadiness of your compassion. Amen.

 

Faces in the Crowd, Day 7

In the Late Evening, Pino Daeni (Italian)

This post is part of an on-going Lenten series that began Ash Wednesday. 

"Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side,
while he dismissed the crowds.

And after had had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. 

When evening came, he was there alone," (Matthew 14:22-23)

+

"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." (Matthew 9:36)

This Lenten series I have been exploring faces in the "inner crowd."  Aspects of myself that hinder getting to the silence and stillness of prayer. My initial hope was that if I could name and identify those "faces in the crowd" that Jesus would dismiss them. Instead, Jesus welcomes all of me - accepts all of me in whole.  And the same is true for you. All of you is welcomed into his loving presence. You don't have to leave any part of yourself on the other side of the door. 

The face in the crowd I see tonight is the part of me that is like Jesus' friend Martha - worried and distracted by many things. The part of me that goes from task to task, getting increasingly irritated and worn out - until it feels like there is nothing left. I see my limitations and run right past them, telling myself, "just one more little thing, then I'll stop." And to this worn out face in the crowd, Jesus brings compassion and rest. 

In Daeni's painting, I see a someone at the end of a long day and it shows in her flushed cheeks, shadowed eyes, and hands still at work. Some evenings, I catch myself in the reflection of the kitchen window over the sink and see this same expression. 

Today's vista & prayer:

• In what ways do you find yourself in the pattern of being "worried, distracted and worn out"? 
• How does Daeni's painting speak to you?
• We pray: Jesus, long ago you dismissed the crowd to be alone with God. On another occasion you saw the crowd and were moved with compassion. Deliver me from worry and distraction, bring me into your graceful rhythms and grant me the gift of rest in your presence. Amen.