Given
This week at Well Time at Firstfruits we finished up our discussion of what it means to live the life of the Beloved. In Henri Nouwen’s book, Life of the Beloved, he talks about how there are four movements of the Holy Spirit that define the life of the Beloved. These truths are that we are Chosen, Blessed, Broken, and finally, Given. In fact we are chosen, blessed, and broken so we can ultimately be given to others. It’s in living for others that our lives find their true significance. Nouwen says, “True joy, happiness, and inner peace come from giving of ourselves to others.” I don’t know about you, but there are days when giving of myself to others brings me the opposite of joy, happiness, and inner peace, it brings me resentment, anger, and a headache. Can I get an amen? I realized of late, that it’s when our “giving” revolves around what we can do for someone rather than what we can be for someone, that we can experience burn out. The giving in the life of the Beloved is a giving of ourselves; our joy in living, our sense of well-being, our inner peace, and our grateful heart. It’s through this giving that we can be for each other. We can be the encourager, we can be the calm, we can be the truth, we can be the hope for each other. But you can’t give that which you do not have. I repeat, you can't give that which you do not have. Our exhaustion comes when we try to give what we do not have. We have to let God fill us with all he has for us so it just overflows into the lives of those around us, the lives of those he puts in our path. Giving becomes a way of life rather than a check mark on a “TO DO” list. That overflow happens naturally the more we believe in and claim our chosenness, blessedness and brokenness. We will be able to give to others our joy in living and inner peace once we truly believe and understand the truth that we are chosen and precious in God’s eyes and nothing the world says can change that. We will able to give to others our grateful heart as we become more aware of the blessings that bombard us every day. We will be able to give to others our sense of well-being...
Brokenness
The last two weeks we have talked about the very good news of our status as the Beloved of God, the truth of our core identity. What could be better than that? The truth of that statement, if we can really believe it, should set us free. Free from a lot of the chains that bind us. Things like low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, doubts about our purpose, loneliness, and rejection. The list could go on and on. On top of knowing we are the Beloved, we are also to wrap our brains around the truths that we are Chosen of God and Blessed. That is the what the life of the Beloved consists of according to Henri Nouwen’s book The Life of the Beloved. It’s all so wonderful. My practical, cynical side says it just seems too good to be true, to simple, too wonderful. There must be a catch. This week we deal with the catch. Nouwen tells us that the third truth of the Beloved is the hardest and the least talked about. That is our brokenness. And we are all broken. If you think you aren’t, think again. For some it’s just harder to see. We often associate brokenness with people who are physically or mentally challenged but the brokenness that Nouwen says is more common is a brokenness of the heart. But who wants to talk about how broken they are? Our brokenness is very intimate and personal. Who wants to go belly up and say out loud that they are addicted to controlling people and situations. Who wants to yell it from the rooftop that they are overwhelmed daily with fears and anxiety. Who makes a point of letting their co-workers know the depth of their sadness? We don the coat of denial and keep on smiling. We might find temporary relief in the mall, on the golf course, with our secret stash of Oreos, or maybe in the liquor cabinet. But it never goes away, it just hides for awhile. Nouwen says there are two healthy ways to respond to our brokenness. The first is to befriend it. Our natural instinct is to deny, avoid, and ignore our brokenness. We need to face it squarely as a natural part of the life of the Beloved. In order to do that, we need to find people we can be broken with. Just as we talked last week about the need to surround ourselves with people...
The Dog Park
If I had to guess, I'd say heaven is like the dog park. Not familiar with the dog park? It's a vast open space where dogs and their owners can come and run free. Well, the dogs that is...
He’s Home
Every party my parents ever had was a luau. Whether it was their anniversary, a neighborhood block party, or just a small group of friends over, there were always plastic leis and pineapple cups. Now just store that information away for a minute, it's important later on. My dad died of cancer about ten years ago. I asked him as things were progressing if he would let me know when he got to Heaven; when he made it home. He said he didn't think you were allowed to do that. I told him to try anyway. At his funeral luncheon I told Fr. Maher that I hadn't heard from my dad yet. Father smiled and whispered, "Be patient." Life went on and I kind of forgot about it. Then one year to the day my dad died, we were looking at a prospective new house. The last room to see was the basement. I walked down the stairs and got the chills. There before me was a basement that had been transformed into a Hawaiian paradise - thatched grass ceiling, bamboo paneling, and a palm tree mural covering the whole wall. Hmm...
Abiding
Thank goodness for my four-legged friend, Rudy. On any given day he is the difference between the love I need and the love I receive. No offense to my husband and kids, but you moms know what I'm talking about. My dog Rudy loves me no matter what. He adores me. He has to be in the same room with me when possible. That's what I mean about husband and kids. You don't get that kind of love from either, past the age of ten for the kids, and maybe after the fifth anniversary for the husband. If I'm behind a closed door, Rudy waits, head resting on paws, looking up with his brown eyes, waiting for the door to open. He can't stand to be separated from me. Because when we are together, life is good, and he can rest in that. Hmm...
Coincidences
For the most part I don't think there are many real coincidences. Yeah, I suppose when you show up at a dinner with the same dress as the woman sitting next to you, that might be a coincidence - and an embarrassment I might add! But to me, things happen for a reason. Take, for instance, the time I was at eight o'clock daily mass, a little anxious because I was going back for a repeat mammogram later that morning. There was a density. I got on my knees and prayed for the Blessed Mother's intercession. Just as I finished my prayer, a gentleman came up to me and handed me a bag and said, "I want you to have this." I opened the bag and in it was an 8x10 picture of the Blessed Mother that he had gotten on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje. Coincidence? I think not. What comfort that brought me...
A Mom to the End
I was blessed to be with my mom when she died. It was just the two of us, or so it seemed. I had been at the nursing home most of the day. I called my husband to join me and bring something to eat. After I hung up the phone, it became clear that mom wasn't going to last much longer. But being a mom to the end, she didn't want me to be alone when her time came, so she patiently waited for my husband to get there. The minute he opened the door to her room, her heart stopped. Her last act was an act of deep and caring love for me. I'll never forget that. Whenever I'm feeling particularly blue and missing her, all I need to do is remind myself of that love that was so evident in that final moment of her life. Hmm...
Seagulls in the Parking Lot
Every time I pull into the parking lot at my local Target store, I am amazed at the number of seagulls flying around. It strikes me as so odd that such beautiful birds, normally associated with pristine beaches of Florida or "The Shore" (as my east coast friends have taught me to say) would be content spending their lives in the parking lot of a Target store in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Instead of being fed crusts of half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the vacationing kids in Ft. Meyers, they are scrounging for stale french fries from the nearby McDonald's. Instead of soaring over the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean or Gulf of Mexico they are soaring over the nearby Office Max and Pick N Save! What are they thinking? Do they know what they're missing? How sad it makes me feel. Hmm...
God in the Grocery Store
I hate grocery shopping. I hate planning meals, shopping, loading, unloading, and cooking! Get the picture? I eat to live, not live to eat. And to be honest with you, I don't know how I managed to keep my three kids alive on the meals I made. But one thing that makes the grocery shopping experience much more palatable is that it seems that I encounter God quite often in the grocery store. Often times, strangers will start talking to me or ask me if I know where something is. And before you know it, we are talking about their sick parent or their abusive husband. I am able to encourage them and offer to pray for them, and then we are off down the aisle. Hmm...
If I Had the Courage
My uncle Lee was one of those people who talked about God as if he were sitting right next to him. God was his constant companion. This seemed a little strange to me at first. My idea of God was that he was up in heaven somewhere, busy with the really important stuff. But my uncle Lee helped me see that wasn't the case. I admired him for doing that. It left a lasting impression on me, probably helped me cultivate the deep faith I have now. It took a lot of courage on his part. He risked sounding foolish because of his love for his God. Hmm...