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Someone has described this stunning flower as the stuff of fairy tales.The Diphylleia grayi is a beautiful white flower that turns transparent upon contact with water. When it rains, the clusters of lovely blooms magically transform into glistening, crystal-like blossoms. Because of this amazing phenomenon, the Diphylleia grayi is commonly known as the skeleton flower.

Even the slightest rain shower turns this ordinary looking flower into a glistening, ethereal blossom. This could be a lesson for those who dread the dreariness of rainy days. The reality is that rainy days do come in life, and as the song says, “rainy days and Monday’s always get me down.”  I have a friend that detests rainy days, especially when the rain lasts for several days. It’s depressing to him and often plunges him into a depressive mood called seasonal affective disorder or SAD.

The rain could beat down this amazing flower. Instead, it causes it to become its most beautiful self. Perhaps this is a lesson for us when we’re languishing in life’s stormy, rainy days. Rainy days do come to us, figuratively and literally. Storms can be frightening. Circumstances in life can cause rain and storm as real as a literal deluge. But if we’re mindful and open, the stuff of fairy tales can come to us during those times.

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
― Vivian Greene

Life has its share of dark times, times that cover you with darkness after disappointments, grave losses, and times of deepest grief. Every life experiences those dark times that become dark nights of the soul.

It is our choice how we will deal with the darkness. We can let it paralyze us, letting our hearts be filled with fear at taking even one step forward. We can sit in the darkness and let it consume us in its deep down nothingness. Or we can marvel in its mystery, rest in its silence, and dream of catching a glimpse of the next ray of light.

Only in the darkness can we see the stars and only on the darkest night can we remember that God has painted the sky with stars to guide our way.

Lift up your eyes on high and see:
who created the stars?
He who brings out their host by number,
calling them all by name;
by the greatness of his might,
and because he is strong in power
not one is missing.  Isaiah 40:26

When you find yourself in darkness, wait with patience and hope. The stars will come out to light your way. Only in the darkest, most intense darkness will we see the sky painted with the brightest stars.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you.” – Isaiah 43:2 NASB

Magnificent, inspiring words, but how can they be credible? I’m pretty sure that if we walk through fire, we will get burned. So what do we do with this beautiful promise of protection? The significant phrase might be, “I will be with you.” No matter what.

I can find peace in that promise, that whatever danger I pass through, God will be with me.

Still, my world is filled with frightening pathways. There have been many times when I have felt as overwhelmed as if I were drowning. There have been times when I have felt the scorching heat of terror. In spite of it all, I have always had the love of God within me and around me. So I can face the fire, as expressed in a contemporary song written by Wayne Kirkpatrick and Gordon Scott Kennedy:

“So we can stand and face the fire, burning higher, surrounding us.

There’s no way over it, no way around it.
If we want it, we have to go through it.

And the world tries to break us down, but the world will bend and the fight will end.
Love will always win.”

I found it to be true and credible . . . love will always win.

Years ago, I was in a church service in Uganda. The time period was right after dictator Idi Amin was exiled. The country was in shambles. Amin became known as the “Butcher of Uganda” for his brutality. It is believed that some 300,000 people were killed during his presidency.

The people were grieving the loss of many family members that day, and the Scripture reading was from the poignant book, Lamentations 5.

“Happiness has gone out of our lives; grief has taken the place of our dances.”

By the end of the worship service, there were tears and wails of lament. Yet, those tears turned into song, and the people began to praise God with their singing and dancing. I am reminded of the beautiful prayer of St. Augustine:

“God of our life, there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and weigh us down; when the road seems dreary and endless, the skies grey and threatening; when our lives have no music in them, our hearts are lonely, and our souls have lost their courage.  Flood the path with light, run our eyes to where the skies are full of promise; tune our hearts to brave music; give us the sense of comradeship with heroes and saints of every age; and so quicken our spirits that we may be able to encourage the souls of all who journey with us on the road of life, to your honor and glory. Amen.”

When our days are long and filled with grief, may we learn to “tune our hearts to brave music.”

“Live like you were dying” is a phrase sung by country singer Tim McGraw. A part of the song’s message is, “I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter; And I watched the eagle as it was flying.  . . . Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying.”

What a beautiful message, a call to see each day as a brand new day full of possibility.  The song speaks of climbing mountains, sky diving, riding a rodeo bull. Perhaps I’m a bit skittish about those kinds of risky acts. But what are the sacred risks I am willing to take each time I am given the gift of a brand new day?  It’s worth contemplating. And it’s not a bad idea to fully live every second as if it might be your last.

Enjoy your our brand new day! Look out for a soaring eagle or a hovering hummingbird. Look at the petals of a flower or the deep green of a leaf. Ride a bronco if you dare! In whatever way is good for you, embrace your brand new day.

I just happened upon a Facebook post from one year ago today. My brother, Andrew, posted that I had been rushed to the hospital, was unconscious, and that the doctors were stumped at what might have happened. Apparently, I had a serious infection which almost took my life. After a long hospital stay, I returned home and went on with my life.

Tonight, exactly one year later I am cooking a celebration meal for my family. There will be fun, laughter and dancing at my house. So today I celebrate ME.  I’m glad to be alive and healthy! Thanks be to God.

Trees are my favorite part of nature’s landscape, dense forests or just one tree standing alone. When I see a tree standing alone, apart from all others, I often marvel at its strength to keep standing. I wonder how deep its roots go down into the ground. I wonder how many years the tree has stood in just that one place.

I see myself in just one place at times, standing alone, nursing thoughts that are only mine to think. Sometimes I long to be in a “forest” with other trees around me to keep vigil with me over life. But at other times, I am grateful for the strong roots that help me stand alone. Storms can uproot trees at times and end their life span. But most of the time the tree stands through storm, wind and rain, unharmed. And it grows in that place, its roots ever deeper as the years pass.

Today I am thankful for my roots.

I love the still, quietness of a Louisiana bayou. Underneath it all, it may well be teeming with all manner of critter. But in full view are the stately, moss-covered cypress trees with their roots going deeply into the swamp waters. The trees seem so strong and set firmly in their place in the bayou. Whatever happens around, beside and underneath is of little consequence. They will just stand tall in the place they are supposed to be.

That’s a good way for people to be, too, oblivious to any dangers, comfortably planted in their surroundings. Like the stately cypress, I want to belong, to be firmly planted and growing quietly day by day. It’s a good way to live.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”  – Minnie Louise Haskins

Sometimes life is filled with a kind of darkness, the kind of darkness that keeps one from moving ahead. The path is dark and you can’t see where you are stepping. The situation can be frightening. I have found myself in this kind of darkness many times, afraid of the unknown, fearful that I’ll never make it back into the light.

Boats that sail in the night look for lighthouses to guide them, especially if the waters are treacherous. When they see that beacon of light, they finally believe that all is well. The light is important, the lighthouse a welcome sight.

Darkness on life’s journey is like that too. We search for a beacon of light to guide us when the darkness has us paralyzed with fear. But we have the gift of something even better than light.

I love the line in Minnie Louise Haskins’ poem . . . “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.  – Psalm 46:1-3

I can work up a fear over any number of things. I worry about my children and grandchildren. I worry about my husband’s health, and my own. I worry that my dialysis will stop helping me. I worry about traveling. I worry about financial matters and doctor bills, prescription costs and insurance. You name it, I can feel fear about it at any given time.

Oddly enough, I worry when my life is free from trouble just as much as I worry in times of trouble.

How I yearn for the words of the Psalmist to be true of me . . . that even though the earth might give way and the mountains may crumble, I will not be afraid. To be sure, my life – everyone’s life – is filled with fearful times. It is a spiritual discipline to claim the promise that God is our strength, our ever-present help in times of trouble, and to rest on that promise.

As I close down my dialysis machine every morning, I remember God’s promise with gratefulness, happy to have God’s ever-present help near me and within me. It makes life possible.

My other nephew pup, little Mingus, had a hard Fourth of July, too. The fireworks made terrifying sounds for him, and eventually he had to be drugged. There are several appropriate warnings about shooting fireworks, especially around children and animals. Many animals have Post Traumatic Stress-like fear of loud noises.  Perhaps we should take heed and make sure the animals we love feel safe and protected.

John 14:27 ESV

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

Sometimes all of us feel fear. Our hearts are troubled and we have allowed our fear to rob us of our peace. How easy it is to work up a sense of terror over even the most insignificant life circumstance. To be sure, there are circumstances that cannot help but make us fearful . . . illness, the loss of a loved one, the ability to provide and care for ourselves. All of these cause real fear.

But mostly we suffer from imagined fear that can bring us to our knees over things that have not occurred and probably won’t occur. We can so easily imagine ourselves to be in grave danger, and then comes the onslaught of fear.

Last night, the Fourth of July, was loud, very loud. We heard a constant barrage of fireworks coming from neighborhoods all around us. My nephew puppy, Crosby, was in sheer terror at the booming sounds. In times like last night, the precious pup can be inconsolable. It matters not that what he is terrified of cannot hurt him. Though he is safe in his house, he still has great fear.

Aren’t we like that too? Afraid of things that are not going to hurt us?

There is One who left us with sage advice about fear . . .”Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. I have given you peace.”

Beautiful, Spacious Skies.

Katharine Lee Bates wrote a hymn text in 1893 that would become one of America’s best-loved patriotic songs. Bates was a professor at Wellesley College and had traveled west to teach a summer course in Colorado Springs. Bates and the other professors decided to take an excursion to Pike’s Peak. They made the ascent by prairie wagon. At the top, Bates was inspired by “the sea-like expanse of fertile country . . . under those ample skies.” She said that the opening lines of the hymn floated into her mind, and she wrote, “O beautiful for spacious skies . . .”

This is the version of the poem that Katharine Bates copyrighted and authorized people to use:

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

“The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus

Between 1820 and 1920, approximately 34 million persons immigrated to the United States, three-fourths of them staying permanently. For many of these newcomers, their first glimpse of America was the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor.

The statue, sculpted by Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, had been conceived of as a gift of friendship from the people of France marking the two nations’ commitment to liberty. France provided $400,000 for the 151 ft 1 in. (46.05 m) statue, and a fundraising drive in the United States netted $270,000 for the 89-foot pedestal.

The Jewish American poet Emma Lazarus saw the statue as a beacon to the world. A poem she wrote to help raise money for the pedestal, and which is carved on that pedestal, captured what the statue came to mean to the millions who migrated to the United States seeking freedom, and who have continued to come unto this day.

–The U.S. Department of State

“The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“”Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!”” cries she
With silent lips.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Because I am the child of immigrant parents, the Statue of Liberty holds a special place in my heart. I celebrate this majestic monument during this Independence Day holiday.

Amber waves of grain, spacious skies, fruited plains, purple mountains majesty . . . words that describe the beauty of this land. It is all too easy in these troubling days to focus on all that is wrong with America, to feel angst over racial tension, violence, terroristic threats. It’s no way to celebrate our Independence Day.

July 4th fireworks, picnics, concerts, parades seem hollow in the face of all that threatens to destroy our nation and put another ugly mark on our history and heritage. So how do we celebrate? What, then, can we do to commemorate the Fourth of July in 2015?

I suggest that we focus on all that is beautiful about this country and open our eyes to truly see waves of grain glistening in the sun and mountains of purple in the sunset. Look into the spacious skies above you and celebrate the beauty that is not marred by words and acts of hate. The Star-Spangled Banner still waves in the skies of a land filled with God’s beauty. Let’s celebrate and protect that.

As I often do these days, I was contemplating the meaning of my life. I often wonder what I did that was meaningful, especially when I look back at all the years of long hours and stress-filled work.

Today I received a message from a beautiful young woman inviting me to her wedding. I knew her as a young teen with multiple life hurts including an assault. She came to counseling every week without fail, and she did the soul work that was necessary for healing. Today, she is whole and full of life. She is celebrating the ability to have a loving relationship even after the betrayal of a past relationship.

i was so proud of her when she was in her teens and I’m proud of her today. She is one of the people who made my life and my ministry worth every long hour I worked. I am grateful for her life. And I’m grateful for mine! She is what my life was about.

In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.  – Buddha

When one approaches his or her later years, it is impossible to avoid taking stock of your life. You long to measure how gently you lived. Taking stock is not always a pleasant practice. It can trigger regrets and disappointments that every person has experienced. But taking stock, looking back, can also bring up extreme gratefulness for all of life’s joys.

I find myself spending a lot of time taking stock and looking back. I am owning the griefs and losses I experienced along the way. But mostly I am giving thanks for all that has been good . . . how much I loved, how gently I lived, and how gracefully I let go of many things that were not meant for me. No regrets! Just gratefulness for a life gently lived.

Sometimes the forest is dense and there is no path. The trees tower over you. The underbrush can be gnarly and covered with brambles. There seems to be no clear way to find the path out of the forest to a place where everything is clear and smooth.

Perhaps, though, the real beauty of a forest is the sense of silent entrapment, the quiet that includes only forest sounds. That may well be the kind of solitude I need in these confusing days. The forest with no clear path is a poignant picture of my current life . . .  no direction, no clearly marked path, just the solitude of the forest that embraces me.

The Bible speaks of the splendor of the forest. Within that splendor, I can find my way again. Illness, transition to a new place, the loss of full-time ministry, the loss of my friends and my home church have been disconcerting. But there is still the splendor of the forest, the sunlight that streams down through leaves of green, and the everlasting hope that God is still, and always, near me. Sometimes that is enough. Sometimes.

Venus and Jupiter are very close together tonight. Conjunction will happen tomorrow evening, so look into the Western sky soon after sundown for a rare treat. We should always open ourselves up to rare treats that happen on occasion. Open hearts, open eyes, open souls can bring us to once-in-a-lifetime events.

God has those rare events waiting for us. We need only to be open to seeing what we may have never seen before. My life is longing for a “rare treat” that can awaken me to new possibilities. So I plan to scan the Western sky tomorrow evening. Who knows what God might want to show me!  I’ll have eyes wide open to see.