A New St. Francis?

The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born of Eternal Life.

Amen

Attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, in the 13th century.

Yesterday, the Catholic Church announced the selection of a new pope, the Argentinian Cardinal, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, forever onward referred to as Pope Francis I.

Regardless of my personal feelings toward the scandal plagued, culturally conservative Church, I find myself whole-heartedly hopeful, and satisfied with the Cardinals' selection.  Honestly, who wouldn't?

By all accounts, Cardinal Bergoglio distinguished himself as an outwardly humble and devoutly, holy man; a champion of the sick and poor he lived amongst. His first request, as the head of the world's 1.2 billion Catholics, was for a blessing from his expanded flock.

It disappoints me to hear disaffected Catholics, and others denigrate this simple man with snarky comments, and negative commentary.  Sadly, many can't see beyond their own pain, or cultural agenda.

What harm is there in having an open heart, and mind? What harm will come from praying that God will bless and guide a humble servant, charged with shining His light upon a world grown dim?  What does it matter if there are cracks in the foundation, as long as the beacon shines forth from the top of the tower, guiding its ships to safe harbor?  Cracks can be repaired.  

Only God knows what's in a man's heart (I seem to remember quoting that before). Cardinal Bergoglio appears to be a right, and just man.  What possible good can come from mocking him?

This Pope chose the name Francis.  God willing he will leave footprints in the sand, next to those of the saints of the same name, for a new generation of men to humbly follow.

My Board of Grace

"The board itself doesn't impact reality; what changes your life is the process of creating . . . "  Martha Beck

Vision Board (page one)

Once upon a time, I reluctantly set out to complete what I believed to be a cheesy little arts & crafts project, and wound up (much to my delight), on a spiritual journey.

As a one-little-word traveler, I was prompted to create a vision board - a personal collection of representative words and images, of things or concepts, that I'd like to welcome into my life. In theory, a vision board is a poor man's Field of Dreams . . . if you build it, he will come!

I trekked to the book store, grabbed a handful of magazines (the one's with the most fun photos I could find), and headed home to cut and paste!

At some point, it occurred to me that I paid a ridiculous amount of money for magazines I was going to destroy.  I hoped the end result was worth it.

Back on task, I started through the pages, looking for images that spoke to me (made me ooh! or ah!).  Nothing!  Struggling, I reread the directions, followed the suggested links, and tried again.

This time, to my surprise, I finished with a substantial collection of words, images and phrases. I spread them out, and planned how I'd arrange them on paper. I began trimming my treasures to fit the page, but opted to tear them to fit instead.  Go figure!

Vision Board (page 2)

Once finished, I was pleased with myself, but still had a hard time seeing anything more than two fairly decent scrapbook pages.  Humph . . . I must have missed something. I photographed them, and filed them away in my scrapbook. Done!

Two weeks later while lying in bed, I had an epiphany!  The ragged (torn, not cut) words, phrases and images I struggled to mine from magazine pages, are metaphors for goodness - faith, light, love, joy, beauty, courage, creativity. 

In my brokenness, I've struggled to recognize God's blessings, often taking what I have for granted. My vision board was a celebration (my one-little-word) of goodness! In the process of creating the board, I was visualizing God's grace in my life. 

The real miracle of my vision board happened a few days after my mid-night epiphany, when I received a phone call that was so full of goodness, it flooded and mended my wounded heart. The call was an an answer to my prayers, something I thought would never happen.

It worked! My vision board worked! I made it. I prayed it. I dreamt it. It happened. And in the end, it was worth every penny I paid for it.

If you're a fellow one-little-word traveler, your next stop is at Nikki's (link below):

Lee: http://thelinarstudio.typepad.com/embracelife

Cheri: cheriandrews.blogspot.com

Lisa: http://backtoallen.com/category/challenges/one-little-word/

Michelle: www.table-for-five.com

Julie: www.eggsandherbs.com

Kara: http://iwannabemewhenigrowup.blogspot.com

Margareta: http://www.paperpilekitten.com

Tricia: http://onecreativemom.wordpress.com

Karen: http://womenontractors.blogspot.com

Nikki: http://www.inkyart.com.au/

Melanie: http://mellybirddesigns.wordpress.com

Angela: http://angelanoel.com/

Kathryn: http://www.katlodesigns.com/

Jackie: http://blog.jacquelinewolven.com/

Dona: http://orangegearle.blogspot.com/

Paige: www.approachingjoy.com

Ruth: http://suburbansahm.blogspot.com

Kathleen: http://jkplusthree.blogspot.com

Missus Wookie: http://mrswookieswanderings.blogspot.com/

Naomi: www.poeticaperture.com 

What's In a Man's Heart

"A father should be his son's first hero, and his daughters first love."

When I was a child of five or six, I climbed into my father's lap as he sat waiting for my mother to finish dressing. Without objection, he stubbed out his cigarette, and pulled me close; his right arm held me protectively against his chest.

Freshly showered and shaved, Daddy smelled of Skin Bracer, and Lucky Strike cigarettes.

Comforted, I breathed deeply, and burrowed my cheek into the front of his crisply, starched shirt.

We sat there, just the two of us, in the quiet, semi-darkness of twilight. Safely wrapped in my daddy's arms, I was profoundly content. In my innocence, I knew what it was to be loved.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom . . . with my ear pressed warmly against his chest . . . ba-boom, ba-boom . . . I could hear the rhythmic beat of my father's heart . . . Ba-boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom!

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I was afraid.  Ba-boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom! I couldn't help but wonder . . . BA-BOOM . . . what would happen if . . . BA-BOOM . . . it stopped?  The thought was too painful to consider!

Panicked, I sat up, and broke the spell.

In every lifetime, there are defining moments. In that moment, I knew death, and understood what it meant to be mortal. My daddy, the person I loved more than any other, wouldn't be mine forever.

I was overwhelmed with fear. I simply couldn't bear the idea of a world void of my father's love.

Daddy's heart beats on into it's eightieth year, a milestone I tearfully celebrate with the little girl I once was. Our relationship with my father didn't end overnight in an exchange of angry words, and the slam of a door. It slipped away like water through the fingers of a cupped hand.

Did he just forget who I was? I tried to remind him, but he didn't recognize his child in the face of the adult I'd become. I could speculate forever on the whys and wherefores, but in the end, only God knows what's in a man's heart.

For most of my life, my father made me feel loved, and for that I will always be grateful.

Happy Birthday Dad - we will always love you.

Black Leather and Lace

Thanks in part to Beyonce's half-time burlesque performance at this year's Super Bowl, I've officially declared the Women's Liberation Movement, the defining cause-celebre of my youth, a train wreck!

To be honest, I was never a big fan of the feminist revolution, fearing it's leaders were throwing the proverbial baby out with the bath water.  So while I supported gender equality, I cautiously watched from the sidelines as my contemporaries rallied around the ERA, defiantly marched on Washington, and triumphantly burned their bras.

I began to wonder a few years back, if the wheels hadn't slipped the track when the painted, powdered and plumed, Madonna shot to super-stardom.  Apparently, along with gender equality, and reproductive freedom, we have a God-given right to publicly express ourselves, intellectually, and sexually. Who knew?

The train rolled further along.

My suspicions were affirmed last year when Lady Gaga writhed her way through a stilettoed S&M parody on the American Idol stage. Clearly, cultural acceptance of what was once considered deviant behavior had evolved right along with the feminist agenda.

Considering the brouhaha surrounding Janet Jackson's purported costume malfunction, (dubbed, Nipplegate) at the Super Bowl in 2004, I was frankly surprised that the NFL would deliver another sexually-explicite half-time performance.

Silly me!  When one considers the demographics of the viewing audience, how can one blame the NFL for giving the consumer, exactly what HE wants - provocatively clad, beautiful, young women, spreading their legs to the strains of throbbing music.

Leather and lace!  Um-um!  Just listen to them slobber on ESPN!

As far as the feminist movement is concerned, correct me if I'm wrong, but radical feminism was supposed to free women from the sexual, intellectual, and economic bondage of their male oppressors?

I would dare to guess, that Madonna, Lady Gaga, Janet Jackson and Beyonce are among the wealthiest entertainers of their perspective generations.  I suppose we should celebrate their success - modern women, daughters of the feminist revolution, make good!

Certainly these women have learned how to successfully compete economically on the world stage - literally - in front of millions, but escaped male bondage?  They're selling the same old product, packaging it differently, and making a whole lot more money!

Three cheers for the feminist revolution!  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to turn on Lifetime, pour myself a Skinny Girl cocktail, light up a Virginia Slims, and wait for the fourth book in the Shades of Gray series to be published.

Celebrate! One Little Word

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself."

Walt Whitman

"Do we need any other proof of being spiritual-beings, than watching a child grow, and a personality blossom?"  
Fr. Jonathan Morris

I began this post with life affirming quotes from what would appear an odd-fellowship, American poet, humanist and author of the esteemed, Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman, and television personality, Fr. Jonathan Morris, a Catholic priest, spiritual advisor, and author of the best selling book, The Promise: God's Purpose and Plan for When Life Hurts. 

While one hundred years, life-styles and religious philosophies separate them, the quotes of both men enthusiastically celebrate the human condition. The passages, along with the whimsical photograph of my uninhibited, three-year-old grandson, make me smile!!

All in all, not a bad way to begin :)

In my last post Dancing in the Rain, I made reference to the One Little Word concept of selecting a single word each January to reflect and meditate on throughout the year.  

I stand at the threshold of the new year, in my pink wellies (English rain-boots) and raincoat, umbrella in hand, with a new companion -a new word - CELEBRATE!

As a child of God, created in His image, I am called to walk in His light - to seek out, recognize, and celebrate the good in my earthly life.

I purposefully chose a word that I felt would enrich not only my physical-being (the human condition), but my spiritual-self (soul) as well.  I looked for, and chose a word I believed to be life-affirming.

To this end, I have put forth the following twelve, monthly-intentions beginning with January's Celebration of a New Year, and continuing on with celebrate love, celebrate my faith, celebrate myself, celebrate motherhood, celebrate the earth, celebrate my freedom, celebrate the summer, celebrate God's bounty, celebrate family tradition/ritual, celebrate God's grace, and finally, to prepare for and celebrate the birth of Christ at Christmas.  

I'll be documenting my journey through written word, and photographs in a personal photo/journal inspired by Ali Edward's, One Little Word, prompts.

Pages from the journal will be located in the filmstrip at the top-right hand corner of this blog (click on the film-strip for full-sized, easy to view, copies of the pages).

For more of my OLW story, you're invited to read the short post, Dancing In the Rain,

Dancing In the Rain

A single word can be a powerful thing. It can be the ripple in the pond that changes everything. It can be sharp and biting or rich and soft.  From my own personal experience, it can be a catalyst for enriching your life.  Ali Edwards, One Little Word 2013

Two years ago, an ill wind blew a rather large, dark cloud into my little corner of the world and parked it directly over me and mine. The ensuing storm dumped buckets and buckets of water, caused the creek to rise, and temporarily knocked me off my feet.

In response to the rising water, I sought shelter in the warmth of our home, affectionately referred to as, the Ark, and prayed on a daily basis for an end to the menacing weather.

And while I still believe, that the shortest distance between a problem and a solution, is the distance between my knees and the floor, I now recognize that affecting climate change in happy valley isn't on God's immediate to-do list.

A pragmatic being, I realize that life is short.  Compelled to make the most of my time on earth, I hesitate to waste a moment more brooding about my misfortune, while watching the world go by my rain-streaked kitchen windows.  Surely, God wants more for me. Certainly he expects more from me.

Still, there's risk associated with wandering into a storm.  No matter how well I prepare, or clothe myself against the elements, I could be lost in a torrent of rain or overwhelmed by a flash flood.  Is it really worth taking the chance?

Yes! Behind the dark clouds, there is light, beauty and goodness. Further, I know that God doesn't want me to spend the rest of my life cowering in fear of the darkness. As a Christian, I am called to step into the light, to seek out, and celebrate each and every ray of light that peeks through the clouds, no matter how briefly, even if it means I end up dancing in the rain.

Four years ago, I began the tradition of selecting a single word each January that I reflect and meditate on throughout the year.  Words that have enriched my life in the past, are simplify, forward, mystery and resignation. 

While I may be an ordinary person, my life-journey has been extraordinary - full of blessings, travel, adventure and opportunity. My word is a companion on my journey along the road-less-traveled, challenging me to step outside my comfort zone, encouraging me to think outside the box, and comforting me in the darkness.

I stand at the threshold of the new year, in my pink wellies (English rain-boots) and raincoat, umbrella in hand, with a new companion - a new word - CELEBRATE!

I've resolved to step out into the rain, eyes to the clouds, in search of light and silver linings.  I will be happy, and I will celebrate the goodness.

(left) Granddaughter Regan, who shares my taste in rain boots.

Click here for more information on the one little word concept and Ali Edwards.




   

Walk Humbly With Your God - My Christmas Message 2012

Act justly, love tenderly, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

It seems nobody sends good old-fashioned Christmas cards anymore - the sort with silver bells that deck the halls, nativity scenes, or jolly elves in Santa's workshop.

The few cards I get each year are mostly vanity cards with photos of people or pets I don't recognize - and have little if anything to do with Christmas.

For a while, vanity letters were all the rage, but they too seem to have gone by the wayside, along with foil-lined envelopes and flocking.

I'm not so much lamenting the death of the traditional card itself, as I am the ritual associated with them, and the message they delivered.

I remember my mother sitting at her card table each night the second week of December, surrounded by stacks of boxed cards she'd thoughtfully selected the week before. Mom's cards, always religious in nature, were intended to make a statement; our household celebrated the Christ in Christmas.

The cards we'd received the year before, complete with envelopes, were stacked alongside our out-going cards. Mom used a little plate and wet sponge to seal the envelopes. Each card was hand-signed, included a short personal note, and was posted with a beautiful Christmas stamp.

Each December day, I'd come home from school and flip through the newly arrived cards, looking for the popular Currier and Ives type depictions of horse-drawn sleighs, and snowy woodland landscapes. They were my favorites!

Mind you, I have nothing against today's vanity cards.  In my book, anyone that takes the time, and puts forth the effort to send anything, should be commended.  I have friends and family who say, they'll no longer send Christmas cards to those who won't reciprocate.  That's sad, but understandable.

Like my mother before me, I want the cards I send to make a statement.

This year, I selected one of my favorite images - a simple, one-room schoolhouse I captured in an Old-Order-Amish community, not far from my home in northwestern Pennsylvania.

The school sits on a rise alongside a bend in a rutted, dirt road.  I'd driven around one side, and past the front of the school before noticing the flash of color in my rearview mirror; two red sleds were propped against the side of the weathered, whitewashed building.

To me the image evokes, humble simplicity.

Today, there is so much glitz and glamour associated with the celebration of Christmas, that we forget the humble circumstances of the Christ-child's birth.  The message of giving without the expectation of getting something in return, has been lost.  We seem to be celebrating ourselves, rather than our Savior's birth.

Maybe my card will serve as a gentle reminder of what this holiday is all about.

Therefore, the Lord Himself will give you a sign:  Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel - God with US.  Isaiah 7:14

Act justly, love tenderly, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

Merry Christmas, 

Karen