Category: A frenzied life

A frenzied life, All Things New, “I Can See Clearly Now”, Beginning again, Bishop Steven Charleston, Bravery, Calm, Challenge, Contemplation, Courage, Determination, Dreamers, Dreams, Following Christ, God's Faithfulness, Heart, Here I am, Lord., I am enough!, Inspiration, New Things, Re-claiming self, Rev. Kathy Manis Findley, Spiritual growth, strength, struggle, Tenacity, Tikkun Olam, Vision, Whispers of God

A Snail’s Pace to the Mountaintop

Rev Kathy

By Kathy Manis Findley

Slow, slow, up the mountain I’ll go . . .


A PAUSE FOR SOME WHIMSY . . . Why don’t we have a little whimsy today? I have invited my snail-friend to join us. And anyway, we all need a little whimsy in these troubling days! So here goes!

I’m sorry to tell you that the snail in the picture will take forever to reach that mountaintop, and you and I simply don’t have the patience to walk with a snail. Even so, I feel good about my chances when racing a snail to get up on top of a mountain!

DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL? . . . Not that this makes any sense at all. Why I would even be considering such a race! In fact, this is completely nonsensical, and if you know me, you know I’m far too serious to entertain whimsy! Makes no sense at all. Oh, but it does make some sense. Let me tell you something about me and what I have learned about the wisdom of the snail and its slow journey!

LIFE CAN BE DEVASTATING . . . When I think of the life catastrophes that have been the hardest for me, the ones that hurt me the most, I immediately recognize that I never slowed down enough to clearly see the unrest brewing around me and inside me. Multi-tasking and acting like an overcommitted, overwhelmed wife, mother, professional minister and hospital chaplain squeezed my spirit enough that I became hopelessly entrapped. That was in my younger days, those days when most of us stretch our commitments to the breaking point.

Before I could change course, I could see my dreams fading and my ability failing. It was impossible for me to reach the top of my mountain. It happened before I realized I was in trouble.

In the light of day, I can somewhat see, but at night, I can hardly see anything—literally and figuratively. But at least I have learned to take time to look up at the stars in a dark sky. It’s easy to see, to envision stars twinkling in the heavens, when you’re still young and when you can still find your hope-filled dreaming place inside you. You can still be breathless, open-eyed and awestruck!

CAN I STILL BE BREATHLESS, OPEN-EYED & AWESTRUCK? . . . To be honest, I must confess to you that I find it difficult to see with my soul, to be open-eyed and enthusiastic. I have lived my life with visions of dreams and hopes, and I have loved the fullness of my days. But being retired is another story altogether.

The story of my young and middle adult days was a story of constant activity, challenges, and tall mountains to climb in search of dreams. Dreams, dreams everywhere! Wherever I looked, I found another dream to dream!

RETIREMENT CAN BE DISHEARTENING . . . Retirement is another thing, and I am there! Illness and aging has nearly shut off my dreaming and visioning. Still, though I am sparring mightily with retirement, in the end I have slowed down to a snail’s pace. And snails probably don’t climb mountains or search for dreams.

What pieces of wisdom can we receive from a snail on a slow slither? Perhaps we should look elsewhere for such wisdom. One of my favorite authors gets to my soul with almost everything he writes. His keen spiritual insight has guided my path time after time. This is what Bishop Steven Charleston has to say about seeing more clearly.

 I see more clearly, now that I am aging. Not with my eyesight, but with my soul. I see the fine detail of what I missed in younger years. I see the place of faith and forgiveness in my story. I see the possibilities of life in ways I never imagined. I was not blind in my youth, but my vision was limited to only a few seasons of seeing.

Now I am an old man standing on a hill. I see more clearly. The universe stretches above me in infinite glory and the Earth spreads her shawl to wrap me in creation. Open the eyes of your spirit. Look out in wonder. See the fullness of the life you have received. See the promise of love walking in beauty before you.

— Bishop Steven Charleston

MY FRIENDS FINDING NEW WAYS TO DREAM . . . These are words I can hang on to and patiently learn how aging folk can still hope and dream, and maybe even climb new mountains. It’s possible. I have seen several aging folk on top of the mountains they dreamed of. One of my 70 year old friends travels all over the world. Another has launched out in a new calling to counsel kidney transplant patients. Yet another friend faced a closed door, so she picked up her skills and began a brand new ministry. And one friend left the United States to feed hungry people across the ocean.

All of these friends made it up to the mountaintop, though some of them might have traveled at a snail’s pace. That doesn’t matter, and I have a notion that their secret to life has to do with slowing down and stopping their frenetic pace. Why do that?

To give yourself time to dream, time to contemplate and pray, time to pull your soul back together, time to open your eyes and truly see, time to meet God who may well whisper in your ear . . .

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying,
“Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”
And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”

—Isaiah 6:8 NIV

TIME FOR SILENCE AND CONTEMPLATION . . .So walk on, slow if you have to. Take your time and wait until you hear God’s voice or sense the presence of the Spirit. Give yourself time for silence and prayer and a lot of contemplation. Keep your courage ready, and then go with all your courage when your heart says it’s time. Don’t let the snail discourage you. Your pace, whatever it is, will get you there. Don’t let anyone block your path or steal your dreams! And I’ll meet you on a mountaintop somewhere!

A LOVELY HYMN FOR YOUR QUIET TIME . . .

Here I Am, Lord (Anniversary Recording) · Dan Schutte
Here I Am, Lord (30th Anniversary Edition)
℗ 2001 2009 OCP, 5536 NE Hassalo, Portland, OR 97213. All rights reserved. Made in USA.
All selections BMI.

SHARE YOUR STORY . . .

If you are a new to my blog or have been reading it for years, you are welcome here. If you would like to leave a comment about your experience with slowing down your pace, finding time for prayer and contemplation, or renewing your spiritual, physical, and emotional life, please tell us about it in the comments. Your story can help others see life more clearly.

A frenzied life, Aging, Beginning again, Detours, Melancholy, Rev. Kathy Manis Findley, Sacred Path

Detours Not Chosen

Rev Kathy


Have you ever found yourself on a path you did not choose? I am on such a path right now, in my aging years when nostalgia is rampant in me. Since I did not choose any part of this path for myself, I would have to say I have been detoured by some other force. The bottom line is that I have been detoured onto a path that seldom makes me happy.

Empty and desolate is this path, at least much of the time. My path detoured after a sudden diagnosis of end stage renal failure, followed by a year (2014) of being in and out of the hospital, daily dialysis, moving to another state far from my son and grandchildren, a kidney transplant, and the difficult change it brought to my existence. I can say unequivocally that I don’t like the forced detour and I don’t like this path.

Most of us begin our adult lives with plans and dreams. We have arranged our first-world lives so that we will have many choices for a bright future. When we age, though, our choices become limited, and sometimes the choices for our lives are made by someone else. So I find myself in the season of life when my path is narrowed and my choices are limited. This is a stifling place to be, leaving me with at least three emotional responses:

1) I am in a constant state of melancholy and cannot seem to pull myself out of it.

2) I live with a deep hurt in the pit of my stomach, like when you miss someone so much.

3) I feel a fear I have never felt before, that the next change I did not choose will be even worse than the changes before it.

Although I can readily list everything that is not good about this path, I have never been a complainer and certainly not one who refuses to hear God’s whispers to me. I can’t explain where these whispers come from or how it is that I hear them, but I have always chosen to believe that it is God who whispers in my ear. So after a sudden and frightening diagnosis, I began to hear God’s whispers—gently, tenderly, patiently, and full of compassion. Then I heard an unusual kind of whisper, one that was emphatic and a little more forceful than the usual whispers . . .

“Enough! Enough of your frenzied life. Enough of working day and night. Enough of caring for others and ignoring yourself. Enough of not listening to the cries of your soul. Enough of constantly writing grants to fund your ministry. Enough of serving on dozens of committees all at once. Enough of putting away your creativity to direct corporate shenanigans. Enough of not drawing near to me. Enough!”

Almost immediately after that striking whisper, I ran headlong into the illness that stopped me in my tracks! The detour was severe and the path was definitely not a sacred path. I asked myself this question one late night of melancholy while resting in my hospital room: What will I do now, what will I be able to do now except pray, meditate, listen, breathe, journal, dream, sit in silence, and pray some more?

I did just that when I was well enough. And from months of recuperation and meditation, my creativity was restored. I started painting watercolors, writing in this blog, listening to music, singing hymns, creating beautiful things, writing two books, playing piano, growing plants and arranging flowers, and so many other creative things. During those days, when I needed to comfort myself, my mind pulled up many passages of scripture that urged me towards a more contemplative life.

Be still, and know that I am God. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. I have calmed and quieted myself. I rise early, before the sun is up; I cry out for help and put my hope in your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise. Above all things, guard your heart, for from it flow the wellsprings of life.

Doing all those creative and spiritual things helped my soul, of course, but no matter how I tried, nothing could completely take away my melancholy. It is still in me. Although I did pull myself out of the darkness I felt on the abysmal path I did not choose, the melancholy remained with me. As it does for any of us, at times. Life happens. Forced detours happen. Bad things happen to good people. None of these happen on our schedule, nor does our sacred path always lead us where we want to go.

Isn’t that just life? Isn’t that life for anyone, no matter how devout?

It helps to remember that our path is a sacred path, no matter how everything seems. We walk it “by faith and not by sight.” I leave you with a verse from the twenty-third Psalm.

Even when I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
    for you are close beside me.

May all your paths be sacred and your detours chosen by you.
~ Rev. Kathy


For your meditation time today, I share with you this beautiful song offered by John Michael Talbot.