Jesus Feeding the 5000

hungry people
no McDonald's in sight.
give them something to eat.
what?
with what?
i am small
inadequate for such a hard task.

give them something to eat.
i can't.
it's not about you.
it's about me.

can you trust?
can you dare to step forward?
can you try?
can you depend upon me and not yourself for once?
will you?

you cannot control me
or anything else.
you need only let go
of fear
embarrassment
and shame.
stand tall as my vessel
and see the glory of God.

ok.
I surrender.
again.
it's in your hands.
can we start with the sermon?

My retreat word - gratitude

Never enough is often my mantra
not enough intelligence
or beauty
creativity
or of what it takes to be a leader.
never enough.
Whatever it is,
it is never enough
when it applies to myself anyway.

So here comes this reminder
neatly typed on a little yellow card.
What if I exchanged the phrase "not enough"
for grateful?
grateful I am as smart as I am
grateful I have a sort of beauty
grateful for my creativity
grateful that I am a leader and that others see that in me.
I am enough for whatever comes my way
and for that I am grateful.

Somehow,
writing that,
I feel better about myself -
grateful to be who I am,
where I am at this period of my life.

Gratitude opens up possibility.
Not enough shuts it all down.
I choose to move to the open space.
That you, God, for the insight.
Gratitude is akin to wonder.

The New Labyrinth

I sat on the bench with my sunflower mug
drinking coffee at the dawn of the day.
Friom a distance Sydney spotted me -
Sydney, the Australian sheep dog that lives at our farm.
She came bounding through the grass and trees to greet me.

Dogs have always been a God symbol for me
reminding me of God's unconditional love.
When people fail me,
dogs never do.

So here comes Sydney
like the father in the prodigal son story in the Bible
prancing
dancing
smiling in her way
running and
THRILLED to see me in the early part of this Saturday morning.

We walk the labyrinth together
this God symbol and me.
She's right beside me.
I am never far from her.
Sometimes she lies on the path and forces me to deal with her
then she's off and running
sometimes ahead
sometimes beside
sometimes wallowing on her back in delight
that I have included her in what feels like play.

What a lovely reminder of God's presence this morning
the God who runs to greet me
and delights to walk beside me.

Sydney is off to other things now
inviting me to join her in joy somewhere else.

I linger
savoring the delight we shared
and looking forward to this brand new day.

Don't take yourself so seriously, God whispers.
Lighten up.
Prance a little.
Come play with me.

overworked

I've been a little whiny lately
overwhelmed
burned out
sleep deprived
carrying the world on my shoulders.
again.

Wednesday I met a man on an airplane.
He was Catholic.
Roman Catholic.
His priest works hard he says.
too hard.
mass every morning of the week
mass on Saturday night
four masses on Sunday
funerals
weddings
baptisms
first communions
et cetera
et cetera
for thousands of people!

Ye gads!

My little call pales in comparison.
moving into gratitude now
at long last.

A Kairos Moment

At first I thought her an angel standing there
drop dead gorgeous
filled with light
radiant
smiling
like one of our American Olympic athletes.

She was bundled up.
It was freezing after all
the coldest night of the year.
The plants surrounding us had all been bedded down for the frigid night.

She brought Wednesday's supply of Victory Meals for Forrest and me.
It was far out of her way to do that
and after hours
since it was eight o'clock at night.
She came because of my mixup,
not hers.

I told her that nutrition guru Joan Ifland had saved my life.
Hers too apparently.
There, with our breath visible in the cold night air
she told me of her lifelong problem with severe allergies.
She was used to lots of medications
painful injections
a lifetime of feeling bad.

Now she's off all meds
feeling great
losing weight
a living testimony to the healing power of God's natural, unrefined food.

Part of the blessing of this Christian life is just these kairos moments
times when God sends an angel to help us on our path.
She brought practical help for me.
I will be able to stay on plan in a mine field of toxins today.
But she gave me something more -
a glimpse of our gracious God
who will go to any length to help us when we cry out
who gives us hope for the journey
who lovingly accompanies us on our path through life.
Truly we are surrounded by angels.
My heart overflows.

Thursday in Houston

Have you lost or misplaced your title?
Is it in your name?
Do you know your VIN number?
Stand in this line.
What's your number?
25!
Anyone below 25?
15!
16!
22!
Stand in this line.
Our number was 29
at 1:30 in the afternoon on this grey, balmy December day.

Government offices are all about waiting your turn.
Stand here.
Show these documents.
Cash or check only.
No exceptions.
No streamlining.
No smiles.
Neeutral colors.
Speak up!

It makes me wish I were better organized
wish I had a better filing system
wish I had not lost the title to the car.

I'll spend hours today cleaning up our mistakes
a lost car title
a cell phone left behind in Kathy
forgotten items from the grocery store
cleaning and recycling that missed pick up.

I have never figured out how to be a grown up.
I don't always know things other people seem to know
about organizing life in an orderly fashion.

I do have other gifts
although it is sometimes difficult to recount them in the midst of my failures.

Uncle Herbert's Funeral

We entered another world to say good-bye to Uncle Herbert.
His funeral was pure Realitos, a dusty ramshackle town near the Mexican border.
We filed into the tiny frame Baptist church nestled beside a grassy parking lot.
The sticker burrs jumped to greet us.
Cousins who had not seen each other in years dished out warm hugs.
Most of the men were in boots and cowboy hats.
They talk country in Realitos -
"ain't" and "cain't" and "they was" with thick Texas twangs.

The elderly soloist charmed us with waves in her voice
as she crooned "It Is Well" to begin the service.
The minister regaled us with wonderful Herbert stories.
Herbert's only child, Lily, tearfully remembered her father
and thanked all of us for coming.
Gary, the long lost cousin, poignantly expressed appreciation
for Herbert's telling him stories of the father he never knew.
Then Herbert's nephew Clark, himself a Baptist preacher,
sang the country western song "Where the Roses never Fade" with his wife.

We sat tightly in the pews
bundled up because of a rare Texas cold front.
We laughed.
We cried.
We hugged and treated each other tenderly.
Herbert would have liked that.
He was always a man of grace and good humor with a profound faith in God.

We stayed close while we huddled at graveside,
then enjoyed a meal of carne guisada and hot fresh tortillas
back at the Baptist church in Hebbronville.

Funerals often bring out the best in families.
Our broken hearts open to one another in ways that don't happen in regular times.
Uncle Herbert would have been pleased I think.
I sensed he would have smiled through that service,
knowing the people he loved the most were in his beloved Baptist church.
Rest in peace, dear Herbert.
We'll all be there soon enough.