Author: Rev Kathy

For years, I was the mother of a 17-year-old Cocker Spaniel named Courtney. She was a dear part of our family and I learned a great deal from her. The life lessons she taught me were invaluable, especially in her later years when various parts of her body began to fail.

We rarely consider the many things we can learn from our pets. Here are some of the life lessons Courtney taught me.

– When it becomes impossible to jump off of your chair on your own, bark for someone to help you. What a great lesson about learning to allow yourself to depend on other people when you need help. Most of us are stubbornly independent and try to refrain from asking anyone to help us. The reality is that every person needs help once in a while and we should learn to ask for it. The person we have asked will likely feel honored that we trusted him or her enough to ask.

– Wagging your tail as fast as you possibly can is an effective way to let a person know how ecstatic you are to see them. For us humans, it wouldn’t hurt to find ways to let our friends and family know just how happy we are to see them.

– I can be finicky about food if I want to. A 17-year-old puppy does get finicky in her later years. Not a bad rule to follow for us either. Being careful about what we eat and how much we eat is a good habit. And if we’ve had enough, it’s time to stop.

– Barking at someone you do not want to be around is my privilege. Perhaps we humans don’t bark (usually) but it’s not a bad idea to determine who we want to be around and find ways to discourage persons that are not good for us. It’s all about creating boundaries and learning who enhances our life and who harms it. Those who harm our lives deserve a good barking at now and then.

– I know I sleep most of the time, but it’s so darn relaxing. There comes a time when humans need to think clearly about getting the rest we need and refusing to push ourselves past where we need to go when we work. Rest and relaxation is important in one’s life and we need to determine how much rest we need.

– I know I will only chase the ball you throw a couple of times these days. So what? It’s important for humans to remember how to play and to find those things in life that are play, not work. Even if we cannot do as much as we used to. It’s a good habit to “pitch the ball around” even if it’s only twice.

Well, those are just a few lessons I learned from Courtney, but they are lessons that I will apply to my own life. They are lessons about self-determination, honesty, openness, friendship, boundaries, relaxation, healthy lifestyle, love and loyalty.

Thanks, Lady Courtney. You have been a good teacher, a loving companion and a faithful friend.

I Know what it feels like to wander aimlessly through a purposeless life. I know all about tossing and turning in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, trying to erase the worries from my mind, trying to calm my heart. I know that if I had saved my tears over the years, I would have filled a tear bottle.

In the Bible, there is a beautiful Psalm that begins with fear of the writer’s enemies who apparently fight against him daily. He believes they will “swallow him up” and ends that passage with these words:

What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me. Every day they wrest my words: all their thoughts are against me for evil. They gather themselves together, they hide themselves, they mark my steps, when they wait for my soul. Shall they escape by iniquity? In thine anger cast down the people, O God.

And then the psalmist writes the most beautiful passage of all when he says to God, “You know my wandering. You know how I toss in my bed every night. And you put my tears in a bottle. So I put my trust in you, and will not be afraid what my enemies can do to me. You, O God, have delivered my soul from death. Will you also deliver my feet from falling that I may walk before you in the land of the living.”

Although I often wander aimlessly, although I know about tossing and turning in bed, trying to erase the worries from my mind. I know I have filled up a tear bottle over the years.

But I also have faith in God, and to God, I pray this prayer:

God of my Sorrow;

You have heard the fall of my tears.

God of compassion, Caress my deepest fears and embrace my heart.

You have known of my tossings in the night, of my wanderings.

You have caught my tears in your bottle of grief.

In your book you have recorded the longings of my soul.

When I cry out to you, O God of my life;

When I long for signs of your grace;

When my sin cries out for mercy; I will trust in you.

And I will not be afraid when evil assails,

Nor in darkness will I hide my face.

A Prayer based on Psalm 56

The world we live in is an amazing thing of beauty and wonder. It’s the big stuff of our lives. So I’m trying to convince myself not to sweat the small stuff. We paid dearly for a brand, spanking new refrigerator that was delivered yesterday. It was a fancy one, too, one that we purchased after much serious consideration. So today, we are sitting here with this fancy refrigerator full of ruined food. It didn’t work properly and a freezer and refrigerator full of food is lost.

I am fuming while the store tries to locate a technician. In the meantime, we had to put off a weekend trip waiting on the refrigerator outcome. So that’s “the small stuff” I am dealing with today.

So let me put it all in perspective for myself. Last year at this time I was in the hospital with a life-threatening infection. When I got over the worst of it, I could not care for myself. A wonderful therapist worked with me and helped me learn how to walk and write again. It was a slow and tedious process and just to get through daily activities, I had to have the help of a very special husband.

So this really is “small stuff” in the big scheme of my life. I thank God for the wonder of the earth and for ordinary days, even when things go wrong. And I’ll keep teaching myself not to sweat the small stuff.

Getting from the cocoon to the butterfly calls for a change in the insect’s very being. It can teach us a great deal about change when we realize that out of a dark, enfolding cocoon, a butterfly takes flight and experiences a new world. Leaving my home after 33 years was an enormously difficult life change. Moving from Little Rock, Arkansas to Macon, Georgia was quite a challenge.

Eckhart Tolle has said that although some changes look negative on the surface, perhaps space is being created in a person’s life so that something new and exciting can emerge. His words somewhat take the sting out of the process of change. It is not unusual for a person to resist change or dread it. Change can be difficult. Change can upset one’s equilibrium. Change can upset us when we have settled in to life’s status quo.

It is true that most of us fear change whether the change alters our work, our home, our family, our relationships or any part of life that has become comfortable. Here’s what happens. Just when were set in our ways, when we least expect it, life sets before us a challenge to test our courage to change. We usually fight it for all we’re worth, pretending that nothing has happened, insisting that we’re not ready, declaring that the change is not good for us or anyone else. We fight and resist until we learn the hard way that resisting does not stop the change.

What if we just allow ourselves to move with the flow and gently move into the change we dread? What if we had the strength of will to face a sudden change head on, without flinching or fighting? What if we let the change happen in us? What if we learn to look at change in the way Terry Pratchett describes in A Hat Full of Sky: the ability to see where we have been and where we are with new eyes and extra colors.

The truth is that change is growth. Change is a remedy against stagnancy. Change may well be a way to embrace something new that will eventually cause us to be more alive, more aware, more self-actualized and self-confident.

Each time we embrace change and make it through, we become stronger for it. When are willing to do something differently, to meet different people, to go to different places . . . even to embrace a self reborn, er are embracing change.

About two years ago, I went through a very painful life and career change. It was not a change I chose, but one that was forced upon me in a rather unfriendly manner. For a while, I honestly thought I could not survive it. I definitely did not see it as being something that was good for me.

To be honest, the change was NOT good for me in many ways. But two years later, I have found one way that it was good for me. I did not realize it but I had lost some of my creative spirit. The change forced me to either languish or to allow my creativity to be renewed and restored. I learned something about myself that was important to know. I learned, in spite of all the weeping and wailing, that I do have the courage to start over and that starting over is not so bad.

So I’m for looking deep within myself and finding the courage to embrace change when it comes. I hope you will do the same.

We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows.

1 Corinthians 13:12  -The Message Bible

Often I don’t see things clearly. Sometimes my spirit is low and I feel the beginnings of sadness. It is as if there is a fog hindering my vision, as if I am trying to see through a mist. Fortunately these times of sadness are infrequent for me. But in those times when I worry about what’s happening around me, the mist engulfs me.

God’s desire is for the fog to clear for us and for the sun to shine brightly over us. God wants us to see clearly, to know God in all of God’s glory.

They say that in every sunset there is a rainbow. I looked up the science behind this and found several very complex explanations, explanations that don’t make much sense to the general public.  Meteorologists understand the phenomenon. I just understand the sheer, magical beauty.

It’s better that way, because I can marvel at yet another of God’s astounding miracles. I can view the image of a divine portrait painting the sky in color, and give thanks to a creative God.

This is the same God who hears our every prayer and listens when we speak of our concerns. This is the same God that holds us close when we are troubled and reminds us again and again of the grace that restores our hope.

I’ll be on the lookout for the rainbow in the next sunset.

My lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing unto thee; and my soul, which you have redeemed.  – Psalm 71:23

At times, God, this wilderness journey I call life becomes long and hard. There are stones in the road and mountains to climb. There are paths that seem to go on forever, leading nowhere.

And then there is the baggage I am carrying with me . . . heavy, cumbersome, oppressive, more burden than I can possibly haul around. How will I make this journey? Where will I find the strength to walk such rough roads and climb such steep pathways?

God of my long journey, where will I find streams of life-giving water in the desert? When will I make peace with the past and open my spirit to healing grace? When will I pick myself up from the dusty roadside and walk on to better days? When will my mourning turn to music?

Walk beside me when I must travel rough patches, God. Lead me, in sunshine and in shadow.

When my aloneness disheartens me, give me companions and friends.

Fill my soul with hope’s music and give me the heart to sing. Amen.

Victor Hugo spoke of meditating under the solemn night with a million stars to inspire. He wisely explained what he called “that mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.” Meditation can happen anytime, of course. But there is something about a night sky that can take us to the shores of our spirit. There we can heal the soul of its wounds.

The sight of the stars moves us to dream, to hope, to contemplate all that is both well and troublesome within us. I can survive most any day, but the night has a certain power over me. In the darkness, I can either feel content knowing all is well, or I can feel despondent wondering when the light of day will come. The night can make us fearful. Yet written on a plaque at the Allegheny Observatory are inscribed the words, “We have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

So I want to learn to welcome the night as a more silent season of introspection and inspiration. I want to love sleepless nights, not dread them. I want to believe in the presence of God in my darkest hours.

If you find yourself dreading the night, meditate on the words of N.P. Willis, “There they stand, the innumerable stars, shining in order like a living hymn, written in light.”

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4 | NIV

I love the mountaintop where it’s bright and fresh and one feels on top of the world. But life cannot be all mountaintop experiences. There are valleys to cross, and sometimes they are dark valleys. The Bible speaks of the darkest valley, the valley of the shadow of death. People walk that valley in times of great trouble.

My husband walked that kind of valley a year ago when he thought he was losing me. He walked it alone. Certainly, there were caring people around, but the impending loss was so personal that he was walking the valley alone.

He got through it, and I like to think that God was walking beside him, comforting him with the rod and staff. Today, I am thankful that no matter how dark the valley we must walk, God is with us, comforting us with every step. Yes, valleys are low and they can be dark, but often there are streams of living water to refresh us on the journey.

There is glory on a mountaintop, but there is grace-filled comfort in a valley.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:1 KJV

Faith is not about magic. The world we live in is not a magical world of fairies, unicorns and genies. We cannot wish away our troubles and expect our life difficulties to magically disappear. Wishing upon stars, looking for fairy dust, rubbing a bottle that’s supposed contain a genie . . . We know all too well that those are remedies that do not change the course of our lives. That which really does alter the course of our lives is definitely not magic, but it is mystery and miracle. It is a treasure that God has given us. That is mystery and miracle.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us. We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed . . .

We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

From 2 Corinthians 4

Oh God, teach me to breath deeply in faith.  – Søren Kierkegaard

Sometimes you just can’t breathe. There is something so heavy on your heart that getting a deep breath is impossible. When I was a crisis counselor, I worked with hundreds of women who had been physically and/or sexually assaulted. As I sat with them in the hospital, the one statement they made most frequently was, “I can’t breathe.”

There is no easy remedy, but there is a way to find your breath again.  First of all, take several deep, slow, cleansing breaths as you sit in a quiet place. Say to yourself a brief prayer like the one by Kierkegard, Oh God, teach me to breathe deeply in faith.

For me, there is no better place to learn to breathe again than a beautiful place in God’s world. I would always choose the ocean with the warm breezes and the sound of the tide. If you need to breathe, find your own calming place, even if it is your own back yard, and begin to center yourself in faith. It works.

2 Peter 1:19 (NIV)

We also have the prophetic message as something completely reliable, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

Sometimes the heart is still and not filled with much joy. I have a friend who describes sad feelings by saying, “It hurts my heart.” I have always been able to identify with her statement, especially when my heart feels heavy. Sometimes several days pass, and through them all, I have a heavy heart. The causes are endless . . . worrying about my children and grandchildren, worrying about poor health, worrying about the cost of healthcare and prescription medications, simply worrying about the process of getting older and the toll it takes.

I know this . . . one can’t go long with a heavy heart. The heaviness has to lift and joy has to creep back in. The miracle of our faith is that it does happen. The heaviness dissipates and the heart, once again, experiences the feeling of hope.

I love the way the Bible describes it: “the day dawns and the morning star rises in your heart.”

Photo by Faith Hill

They who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs; You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy.  

– Psalm 65:8. NASV

I was reminded today of what was happening one year ago. I was hospitalized with viral meningitis, and was wondering what might happen next. I was placed on dialysis that week, an event that changed my life in a variety of ways. As one would expect, I felt despondent during that uncertain time.

Today, I am not uncertain. In fact, I am very certain of God’s presence and protection. Today, I am standing in awe of God’s world and the rising and setting of the sun. No matter what hardship life may bring, we can count on the rising and setting of the sun. It marks our days. It brings nature’s beauty to our attention. It helps us forget, even for a moment, those situations that so beset us. It minimizes the troubles that scar our spirit. It reminds us every day that God’s mercy is eternal and that God’s grace is given to us as a gift.

With the dawn and the sunset, may we shout for joy in praise to a gracious God.

In the darkest of nights, I will be glad for the morning. Dark nights of the soul often assail me. My heart is filled with anguish. My mind is filled with worry, mostly about things I cannot change or control. In those times, I feel caught up in endless darkness, wondering if the long night will ever end.

A lovely song that became popular in the 1972 movie, “The Poseidon Adventure ” is entitled, “There’s Got to Be a Morning After.” It’s a sentiment I can identify with on those dark nights of worry.

There’s got to be a morning after
If we can hold on through the night.
We have a chance to find the sunshine;
Let’s keep on lookin’ for the light.
Oh, can’t you see the morning after;
It’s waiting right outside the storm.
Why don’t we cross the bridge together
And find a place that’s safe and warm?
It’s not too late, we should be giving;
Only with love can we climb.
It’s not too late, not while we’re living;
Let’s put our hands out in time.
There’s got to be a morning after;
We’re moving closer to the shore.
I know we’ll be there by tomorrow,
And we’ll escape the darkness;
We won’t be searchin’ any more.

(Written by: Joel Hirschhorn and Al Kasha)

I often long to escape the darkness. Like the song says, I hold on through the night and hope for the sunshine of a fresh new day. The Bible says it another way:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.

Psalm 143:8 – New International Version

In January of 2015, my family conducted an intervention with me. The objective was to get Fred and me to move to Macon, Georgia, leaving our 33-year life in Little Rock, Arkansas. They had presented all the pros and not one con. We would be close to family who would help Fred care for me. Fred would not have to do house maintenance and repairs. The cost of housing would be less expensive. We could interact often with my closest family members. And they found a lovely gated, senior community where we could live.

So, sight unseen except for a few photos, we moved into the idyllic community known as Melton Place. Apparently their arguments were convincing enough that we sold our house and moved to Georgia.

They did not tell us about Georgia gnats. They completely failed to mention that when you go outdoors to water your flowers, you are swarmed by gnats on your arms, your face, your nose, your ears . . . and you might just swallow one or two.

Much like the seven wonders of the world, the Gnat Line is just one of many wonders of the Deep South. Technically speaking, the Gnat Line refers to a geographic fall line that geologists or archaeologists believe may have been a prehistoric beach or shoreline. Our house is literally just below the gnat line.

So in spite of the many pros my family presented, they left out one significant con – pesky, persistent gnats. I’m off to find some insect repellent!

Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of equal or greater benefit. – Napoleon Hill

Adversity, failure and heartache . . . life brings all three. The life journey we are on takes its twists and turns, one right after another. Around one bend, we might find something wonderfully joyful. But around the next bend, we can happen upon very real adversity. Failures and heartaches are common to every life. Even those of us who claim a strong faith in God cannot escape difficult days on this journey.

Remember Yoda when Luke Skywalker said he wasn’t afraid of the journey he was on? Yoda flattened his ears, leaned closely toward Luke & said, “You will be!”

The journey called life is for me a continuous discovery of who I am. I write about the journey mostly for myself, hoping to discover ever new ways of being in this world.

Every great spiritual teacher says that finding out who we really are & what our true motivations are (rather than what we’ve told ourselves) is terrifying. God’s purity & light necessarily expose these things about ourselves to ourselves. That’s what my journey is all about, and writing it down is a discipline that reinforces what I am learning about myself along the way.

Without a path that leads through adversity, failure, heartache, and all the ominous parts of life, I simply would not learn much about myself. The only way to experience great joy is to have also experienced great hardship.

William Wordsworth said, “Fill your paper with the breathing of your heart.”

How true that the more I write, the better I know my heart. So that’s the reason for this blog, and hopefully, at least one other person will find a smidgen of inspiration in these words. So be not dismayed when you experience all manner of adversity. It is the stuff of life and God promises to be with you, comforting you and celebrating another step into maturity.

I call on the LORD in my distress, and he answers me.
Psalm 120:1 NIV

Last night was not one of my best nights for restorative sleeping. Four times, every hour and a half, I heard the harsh alarm of the dialysis machine telling me to get up. It means that unless I get out of the bed for about twenty minutes, the fluid won’t drain out of me.

Now it’s not a big deal. It just has to be done. So while I am wide awake in the middle of the night, I begin to recall all the things that are distressing me. I go over them in my mind again and again, trying to come up with solutions. Of course, for most of them, there is no solution. So I fret on throughout the long night.

There is something else I might have done, or so the Psalmist says. I can call on the Lord in my distress, and he will answer me. I didn’t do that last night. Maybe next time, I will.

I love the song, “Waiting on the World to Change” sung by John Mayer.

Now we see everything that’s going wrong with the world and those who lead it.
We just feel like we don’t have the means to rise above and beat it.

So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change.
We keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change.

Is it any wonder that we long for the world to change?

More than 16 million children in the United States – 22% of all children – live in families with incomes below the federal poverty level – $23,550 a year for a family of four. Research shows that, on average, families need an income of about twice that level to cover basic expenses. Using this standard, 45% of children live in low-income families.

Most of these children have parents who work, but low wages and unstable employment leave their families struggling to make ends meet. Poverty can impede children’s ability to learn and contribute to social, emotional, and behavioral problems. Poverty also can contribute to poor health and mental health. Risks are greatest for children who experience poverty when they are young and/or experience deep and persistent poverty. (National Center for Children in Poverty)

Child poverty, children languishing in the foster care system, violence and the abuse of children . . . It’s more than we can fathom.

Yes, we are waiting on the world to change. But while we wait, we must work in our homes and communities and demand justice for all, especially the most vulnerable among us.

May God give us the heart, the courage, and the will to change the world.

These days I am working hard to conquer fear and feel peace in the midst of things that are not quite right. To be sure, I worry sometimes, and lament the losses I have experienced. It seems healthy somehow to count your losses every once in a while, and then struggle beyond them to peace.  So I do that.

One of the things I lost because of my renal disease is my career, a chance to make a difference every day for abused children and battered women. I lost my independence because I was unable to even walk at times. I drove the car a couple of weeks ago for the first time in seventeen months. I lost the freedom of travel, at least without heavy and cumbersome dialysis supplies. I lost the confidence that I won’t get another life-threatening infection. I lost the pure joy of going to bed and sleeping all night without being hooked to a dialysis machine, and finally, when I survey myself, I have to look at a two foot tube hanging permanently out of my abdomen, which means pools, lakes, oceans, bathtubs and hot tubs are not allowable for me.

So it has been hard to find a sense of peace in these days. I find it, though, because I rest in the promise of God in John 14:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
John 14:27 NIV

“Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid.”  I’m definitely working on that.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may perfect your faith, be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  – James 1:2-4

Trials are a part of life, sometimes trials that seem more than we can bear. Often trials come in waves, one right after another, overwhelming us with their power. Financial difficulties, family dysfunction, serious illness, chronic, unrelenting pain, the loss of a loved one . . . In the past week I have counseled people in all of these trying circumstances.

They all have one thing in common. They have developed perseverance, just as the scripture says they will, and rather than losing all hope, new and fresh faith and hope is born within them. The second chapter of Hosea leaves us with this promise:

“I will make the Valley of Trouble a door of Hope.”