Tag: Dreams

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

Revkathy

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.

Advent, Angels, Bethlehem’s Star, Bewilderment, Courage, Elizabeth, Mary

Those Who Dream — Advent 2020

Revkathy

THOSE WHO DREAM

That’s the problem, isn’t it, that the Angel Gabriel departed from her!

It happens to us, too.

Our angel departs
Leaves us

Goes away
Just when the deepest shadow of fear hovers over us.

Goes away
Just when grief has shattered our hearts.

Goes away
Just when our deep, deep life losses have left us disconsolate.

Our angel goes away.
Just at the moment of our most profound impoverishment,
Just at the moment when we know, beyond doubt,
That we will never dream again.

As for the dreams we long held hidden in our hearts . . .

Well, those dreams disappeared!

Vanished!

The dreams we held so closely are not in us anymore
Can not be dreamed anymore.

Suddenly, our angel left
And we were no longer those who dream.

Yet, we moved headlong into Mary’s story and Elizabeth’s;
Life growing in their wombs;
Holy Life growing in their wombs.
Both of them holding the dreams God gave them
Both dreaming into an unknown and unknowable journey

As women often do.


And on that journey, as we follow these two dreaming women, we see it!
The Star in the East!
The Bethlehem Star sparkling in night sky!

Our angel left us
But courage and hope still courses inside us.

We lift our gaze still and we see Bethlehem’s star

And the dark indigo sky sparkles
Brilliance incarnate!
Manifested before us in human form!

The Word Made Flesh who would never leave us like our angel did.

We follow that holy star
Determined.
Undaunted.
Unrestrained.

Because we know what we hold deeply in our souls;

We know exactly who we are —

Those who dream!

We are those who dream!

Rev. Kathy Manis Findley, Advent 2020

 

In your sacred pauses during this Advent season, may you find peace, knowing all is calm. Listen to this music in your contemplative time.

 

Advent, Calling, Challenge, Compassion, Confusion, coronavirus, Covenant, Dreamers, Dreams, Isaiah, Justice, Mission, Pandemic of 2020, peace, Repentance, Righteousness, Sin, Sorrow, Spirit

THOSE WHO DREAM

Revkathy

Copyright A Sanctified Art — sanctifiedart.org

A passage of Scripture that encourages me every time I read it came up this week in my Advent devotional booklet entitled, “Those Who Dream.” The beauty of reflection I have found in this booklet has definitely awakened dreams in me. As I reflected on Advent Scripture each morning, God never failed to remind me that the world is in chaos in so many ways. In the year we will remember as 2020, people languished and lamented through a seemingly uncontrollable pandemic. Many people prayed, many died, many wept, and some were even able to dream.

The sacred text for this past Thursday was from the eloquent Prophet Isaiah. I have always thought of this Prophet as a realistic dreamer who never failed to paint a true picture of a world both evil and good. Isaiah had a way of proclaiming the deep need for repentance while also calling the people to dream of all that could be better and brighter. The bottom line for this Prophet was sin followed by repentance, what that would look like and what a world of righteousness would look like. Thursday’s prophetic and inspiring word was from Isaiah 61.

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion — to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.

They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.

Isaiah 61:1-4 NRSV



For I the Lord love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God, ffor he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

Isaiah 61:8-11 NRSV


Standing in the midst of a pandemic world with all the grave challenges before us, Advent sends us a message. The last good word in these proclamations from Isaiah tell us that our Lord will cause righteousness to spring up before us, before all nations. When righteousness has her way in us, then — and only then — will we dream again. Our dreams empowered with God’s anointing will bring the advent of righteousness.

After repentance! Only after repentance!

Look closely at Isaiah’s words and you will see anew that God has anointed us to bring good news to oppressed people, to hold in our arms those who are brokenhearted, to comfort the mourning people, to set free people who are bound with chains of their own making and finally, as the Prophet said, “to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.”

What Isaiah tells us after that is my dream for this Advent 2020: “They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.”

All around us are the ruins we have left behind from all that we have done to our world, collectively and individually. The politicians make war among themselves, increasing the chasm that divides them. The people put politics before unity and spew hate at one another. The white supremacists barrage our cities with evil. Some of our people protest the racial injustice they have long endured. Hungry people still wait in the cold for a morsel of sustenance. People who have no home shiver in cold porticos, in parks, under bridges. Violence with its many faces is ever with us. The Coronavirus ravages on. The teachers and parents languish in confusion and disappointment. The frontline health professionals fall in literal exhaustion. Our children ask us when life will be normal again.

Every year, I recall the text of one of my favorite Christmas carols, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” The carol’s text, written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Christmas Day of 1863, is a poem in which he expresses the terror of peace evolving into a world of darkness, hate and war. Two years before writing this poem, Longfellow‘s personal peace was shaken when his wife of 18 years was fatally burned in an accidental fire. Then in 1862, during the American Civil War, Longfellow’s oldest son joined the Union Army and was severely wounded in November of 1863 in the Battle of Mine Run. Longfellow’s words reach deeply into my soul and plant sadness there. Yet, the words are real and true about his world and perhaps, in some ways, his words are real in the world in which we live.

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day
    A voice, a chime,
    A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth,
The cannon thundered in the South,
    And with the sound
    The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
    And made forlorn
    The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head ; 
“There is no peace on earth,” I said; 
    “For hate is strong
    And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 
“God is not dead ; nor doth he sleep!
    The Wrong shall fail,
    The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

We do not fully understand the ways that Longfellow suffered when he wrote this poem. Yet, we might have an inkling that some of the words describe us, describe our world. In the end, when all is said and done, the carol proclaims that the bells are still ringing loudly and deeply, that God is not dead, nor is God sleeping. Instead God is speaking to us so that we will know, beyond any doubt, that “the Spirit of the Lord is upon us.” And with that anointing, we will fulfill a covenant with God — the mission God has given us to pray and labor and dream God’s dream of repairing the ruined cities, the devastations of past generations, as well as the devastations we are seeing before us in this moment in time.

May God make it so. Amen.

An version of Longfellow’s carol was sung by The Carpenters many years ago. Here is the video:

Advent, Angels, Beginning again, Comfort, Dreamers, Dreams, God’s Gift of Stars, Hope, Introspection, Isolation, journey, peace, Prayer, Quiet, Sanctified Art, Soul

Those Who Dream: An Advent Journey

Revkathy

 

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Image from “A Sanctified Art” at https://sanctifiedart.org

Before we begin Advent’s journey on November 29th, I think we need start a few days early to create some peace for our souls — enough peace to open ourselves to Advent’s life-giving message. For you see, the Advent journey always has a particular and unique message for each of us. The message weaves through our spirit as Advent days move on, gently sparking tiny lights is us that open us up to beginning again, to dreaming again. Advent nurtures and caresses us until we can dream new dreams.

Since we saw Advent past, we have languished in the chaos of 2020. Held in bondage by a terrible pandemic, lamenting racial unrest and the violence that caused it, watching political rancor and division. This was the year of “I can’t breathe” and also the year when we found that we could not breathe. Nor could we dream, because the future was unknowable — not at all conducive to dreaming.

And yet, there remains this good word — Psalm 126:1:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.

What does it look like to live as those who dream? The prophets, the psalmists, Mary, Elizabeth, Joseph, Simeon, Anna, the shepherds and the Magi—they were all dreamers. They received, discovered, and responded to God’s dreams for the world. In Advent’s journey, we travel step by step into the mystery and awe of God’s dreams and we pray that they will shape our reality.

Advent is for the dreamers in all of us — those who dream of a deeper connection with God and those who dream of a better world. Advent is for those who dream of comfort and also for those who have given up on their dreams. Advent is for those whose dreams have been crushed and for those who wisely teach us that dreams take soul time. 

In this approaching Advent, perhaps we will dream alongside prophets and angels, Mary and the Magi. Perhaps we will seek and know God’s dreams for our world. 

Will you pray with me?


In this Advent of expectation, God,
draw us nearer to grace,
that our songs of worship
might echo in the hills and valleys of this journey
and also through our lives.

In this Advent of expectation,
grant us a sense of peace and silence and steady calm,
that the hope within our souls
might be the dreams we dream,
the songs we sing, and the melody of our lives.

In this Advent of expectation,
grant us a vision of a shimmering star in the night sky,
that the path we follow
might lead us from a stable
to a glimpse of eternity. Amen.

Those Who Dream Theme Song—PREVIEW VERSION from A Sanctified Art on Vimeo.

life, Mindfulness, Present moment, Reflection, Rest

In the Graceful Arms of this Present Moment

Revkathy


“Live in the moment.” It is a common admonition I have heard often. “Practice mindfulness,” is a more current admonition that points us to live in the present moment. We are urged to add mindfulness to our vast storehouse of spiritual disciplines. You might wonder what mindfulness means, so I found an answer from a trusted source.

Mindfulness is a mental state achieved by focusing one’s awareness on the present moment while calmly acknowledging and accepting one’s feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique. (psychologytoday.com)

Today, the thought that grabs me comes from Madisyn Taylor, who writes “rest yourself in the graceful arms of the present moment.” (https://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/display/inspirations.cgi?view=all )

It is an idea that seems so simple. Yet, resting in the present moment is not always simple. It can be very hard to do, often impossible to do. Sometimes we find ourselves hopelessly  stuck in the past, suffering the soul bondage of its power over us. Dwelling in the past can cause us to languish about no longer having the joys we once enjoyed, the people we loved, the places we used to live, the “best job I ever had.”  The past can also be a haunting place of reliving the past trauma, loss,disappointment or betrayal. Still, there must be an emotionally healthy place to put the past. Perhaps the difference in what we do with the past is a soul struggle between “letting the past have its place” and letting the past have its way. 

I have often let the past have its way in my life as an ominous presence that reminds me of secrets and lies, violence, abandonment, anger and so many other experiences that threaten me through my memories. The critical question I must ask is how do I let the past have its place. What can I do to embrace my past and let it be a guide on my journey, not an oppressor as I walk my journey? I wonder sometimes if I can put the past in its place, no longer allowing it to wield power over my memories and torment my soul. I know It’s worth a try.

And then there’s the future to contend with, that time in life we think we can control although we have no idea what it might hold. The future is unknowable, something to try to envision knowing I cannot. The future can look to us as bright as the sun or as dark as the center of a cave. The future can be dreaming dreams or internalizing dread and fear. The thought that ”the future is taken care of” graces me with a picture of God knowing my future and preparing me to greet it with hope.

“Rest in the graceful arms of the present moment.”

The words bring to mind the many, many times I have sung the beloved hymn, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.” 

What have I to dread? What have I to fear, leaning on the everlasting arms?
Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms.

I think maybe feeling safe and secure, without fear and dread, is exactly what helps us live in the present moment — not rushing through this beautiful life, not missing the real and deep beauty of it. Yet, we persist in pushing our bodies to accomplish its daily tasks without cherishing the workings of the body — its breathing, its moving, tasting and seeing, hearing and enjoying the aromas that surround us. And most often, we fail to pay close attention to the longings of our souls and the promptings of our spirits — what makes us whole, what fills our hearts with joy, what God is saying to us. We simply do not pay close attention to how is God calling us to satisfy both our soul’s yearning and the world’s deepest need.

Like me, perhaps you do not always cherish the present moment enough — all of it — this present moment we have been given by God’s grace. Life passes through us and around us in every passing moment, and we miss it.

And yet, cherishing every moment — our present moment — might just make magic in our lives, filling us with serenity and peacefulness, with lightheartedness and laughter, even bringing us to the honesty of our sorrows and the cleansing power of our tears.

I, for one, want to be continually mindful of my life — every moment of it — in my body, my mind, my world, my soul, my heart, in my yearnings and my sorrows . . . in my dreams and in the deepest desires that fill me with hope.

Aging, anxiety, Bewilderment, Bravery, Challenge, Child protection, Children, Conflict, Confusion, Contemplation, Courage, Dangerous and noble things, Discernment, Dreams, Indecision, Internal conflict, Introspection, life, Pandemic of 2020, Questions, Sacred Worth, struggle, Transformation

When Plans Are Dreams

Revkathy

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Plans! We find it almost impossible to make them in a life ruled by COVID19. Currently, school  plans are foremost in the minds of parents and students.

“Is it safe to send my child back to school? What safety and social distancing measures will schools have in place? Do I choose to keep them at home, opting for virtual learning? How do I manage online school?”

In light of such critical plans and decisions, consider this current news report:

A document prepared for the White House Coronavirus Task Force but not publicized suggests more than a dozen states should revert to more stringent protective measures, limiting social gatherings to 10 people or fewer, closing bars and gyms and asking residents to wear masks at all times.

The document, dated July 14 and obtained by the Center for Public Integrity, says 18 states are in the “red zone” for COVID-19 cases, meaning they had more than 100 new cases per 100,000 population last week. [Georgia is in the “red zone.”]

Eleven states are in the “red zone” for test positivity, meaning more than 10 percent of diagnostic test results came back positive. [Georgia is in this “red zone” too.] https://publicintegrity.org/health/coronavirus-and-inequality/exclusive-white-house-document-shows-18-states-in-coronavirus-red-zone-covid-19/

Even with troubling reports like this one, Georgia’s governor, Gov. Brian Kemp, signed an order on Wednesday, July 15, 2020 banning localities from requiring masks. On this information, parents have to agonize about what’s best for their children. They simply cannot make firm plans as long as the virus is waxing and waning. Mostly waxing!

Plans are difficult for us for all sorts of reasons and circumstances. Every now and then over the years, my life would take un unexpected pause to contemplate this thought written by the late Mary Oliver:

 So tell me, what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Unpacking that brief question has been a periodic constant in my life, popping up for me mostly in my down and disheartened times. I hear the poet describing my life as “wild and precious” and it almost shocks me. Yet, my life really has been consistently wild and mostly precious. Anything that urges me to examine my life is a good thing. I can almost always pull up memories of the times when I was wild and free — insistent upon rising higher, realizing a near-impossible dream, charging with courage into new and uncharted places, planning for a future of fresh and sparkling heights, observing just how wild I could dare to be. Unpacking that question has been exhilarating at times, exhausting at other times.

Musing on a life that could be described as precious

Entertaining the thought that my life was precious happened in my deepest soul place. It happened in my moments of introspection, meditative times that urged me to examine all the ways I saw my life as precious, cherished, valued. Of course, I have experienced many precious life moments — my wedding day, my work in Africa, my ordination, awards and recognitions of my work and career and, most of all, the adoption of my one wild and precious son, Jonathan. Examining my precious life was most real when I almost lost my life, my full year of serious illness, five years of dialysis and a kidney transplant made possible by the selflessness of a lovely woman I know only through email.

Such thoughts bring me back to plans. What is it I plan to do with my one wild and precious life? Even a life precious and wild is a life that requires plans, and right now trying to make plans is an exercise fraught with anxiety. I cannot find any words that can minimize this depth of anxiety. There is not one thing you or I can do about plans that have been ravaged by the pandemic we are experiencing, and yet we must make critical plans in this season of uncertainty. 

School plans are most difficult in my state and perhaps in yours. As parents agonize over the safety of their children, Georgia’s governor, Brian Kemp, offered this unhelpful comment this morning in a press conference:

I am a believer that kids need to be in the classroom and we’re working with the schools to do that. We’re going to have cases that break out in schools, either with personnel or perhaps students, just like you do with a stomach bug or a flu or anything else. Our schools know how to handle those situations.

The parents and teachers in my life know that this coronavirus is not just a run-of-the-mill “stomach bug or flu.” This virus is deadly, and parents and teachers faced with difficult school decisions know that all too well. During these pandemic days, it is a constant reality that many of us are having to make potentially hazardous plans, but just for a moment, I wonder if we can redirect our thoughts to plans we make for our “one wild and precious life.”

Can we rise above the plans we must make today, even for a moment, and instead consider the bold and courageous plans we could make? Can we set our hearts to think about plans we can make when we are our brave, adventurous and fearless selves? Can we contemplate the plans we might make when we feel bold, resolute and undaunted?

I can remember the times when I was able to make such adventurous plans, times when my plans were dreams — high and lofty dreams of changing the world. I can also remember the time when I no longer dreamed any dreams at all. It was a time when I no longer saw my life as a wild and precious one. I still entertained plans, but my plans were definitely not dreams. I believed I could no longer change the world. I believed I could no longer live a life that made a difference. I believed that my soul was dry and my spirit barren. I believed that, in my life, dangerous and noble things were no longer possible

Why can’t you and I dream dreams instead of making plans? Why can’t my “one wild and precious life” rise higher, high enough to make dreams of my plans? Sometimes I will go to one of my many favorite passages of Scripture hoping to find God’s word to me. Being true to my theological education, I always look at the words in context before I do anything else. But after that hermeneutical exercise I learned in New Testament 101, I might twist the text a bit and maybe even paraphrase it, inviting the text to speak to me specifically, just me. For this day, one of the texts found in the book of Acts reaches into my soul, and, yes, I did paraphrase it.

“In your season of most need,” God says,
“I will restore your soul and make your spirit rise within you.
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.

Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your youthful hearts will see visions,
your aging hearts will dream dreams.”

— Acts 2:17 (my paraphrase)

Amen. 

May God lift our hearts and spirits, assure us that our lives are precious and help us transform our plans into dreams.

So tell me, what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

 

Adventures, Belief, Bravery, Children, Courage, Dreams, Faith, Falling down, Flying, fun, Growing up, Hope, Learning, Magic, Space Jam, Women
Revkathy

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When I was a teenager, I was conscripted many times to “watch” my younger brothers. It was a loathsome task for me! Yet, occasionally the two of them were interesting to watch, especially through their superhero fascination. They seemed to favor the superheroes who could fly, like Superman or Batman (who could sort of fly, but was likely to perish when attempting to land). It occurred to me that in the scene I watched in the back yard, the two young guys looked much more like flight-challenged Batman!

One afternoon after school, the boys were outside playing. Through the window, I watched them as they donned their makeshift capes. Then — without a care in the world and believing that they really could take flight — they stood tall on wooden boxes and launched themselves, arms extended, looking up to the sky. They didn’t fly that day, but they believed, they dreamed. And they had great fun!

I also noticed during those days that I never saw girls stand on boxes with arms outstretched ready to launch into flight. I certainly never thought of doing it myself. But it made me wonder if girls had dreams like the boys did. That thought brought my mood low and, looking back on it, I think I might have felt a bit of heaviness and disillusionment. I didn’t believe I could fly, but rather that I would leap off the box straight into the ground with a thud that probably resulted in a skinned knee. As the years passed, I learned for sure that if women had dreams, they would not likely realize them in our reality, which was “a man’s world.” Dreaming, hoping, flying may not be possible for a “girl.”

When my son was growing up, we saw the motion picture, Space Jam, a terrific movie for son Jonathan, who was an avid Michael Jordan fanatic. No doubt, my 6’6” son wanted to “Be Like Mike.” In Space Jam’s soundtrack was the song, I Believe I Can Fly, a 1996 song written and performed by American singer, songwriter and former professional basketball player R. Kelly.  This mom was not very fond of R. Kelly, but the song he wrote literally moved me and filled me up with hopes and dreams for my son. R. Kelly’s message was a great one:

I used to think that I could not go on
And life was nothing but an awful song
But now I know the meaning of true love
I’m leaning on the everlasting arms

If I can see it, then I can do it
If I just believe it, there’s nothing to it

I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day (Night and day)
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly

See I was on the verge of breaking down
Sometimes silence can seem so loud

There are miracles in life I must achieve
But first I know it starts inside of me

If I can see it, then I can be it
If I just believe it, there’s nothing to it
I believe I can fly

I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly
Oh, I believe I can fly ‘cause I believe in me . . .

I hope you will enjoy the video below, which I place here in honor of my son, Jonathan .

If God would grant me just one request, it would be that every boy — and every girl — would climb on their wooden box and believe in their souls that flying is possible. I would want them to stand tall, with hope and courage, dreaming their dreams and seeing the magic of watching them grow.

Adultery, Art, Awakening, Celebration, Change, Dancing, Discovering, Dreams, Freedom, Growing up, Introspection, Joy, life, New Life, Praise, Psalms, Questions, Surprise, Tambourine

With a Tambourine in My Hand

Revkathy

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Water Dancers by Canadian artist, Rob Gonsalves

Women in white gowns emerge from the crashing water of  a moonlit waterfall. What in the world does that have to do with me, other than the fact that I am completely enthralled by this painting? I certainly cannot relate or see myself emerging from rushing waters or even dancing with a tambourine in my hand. Yet, there is something about this art that inspired my soul searching and brought up some questions I want to contemplate.

Where did I come from? Where will I go?
What will I do with my life? Which of my dreams will I realize?

I have asked myself similar questions, questions about what made me who I am and if I will ever feel that I have realized my life dreams. It’s true that I have entered my seventieth year of life, and one might wonder why the need for all the introspective questions. But In the core of my being, I believe that I can still dream and that I can still experience wonder about what I see in and around my life.

What people will enter my life leaving cherished gifts of friendship? What wonder will I see around me as I search for meaning? What will Spirit say to me with the gentle breath of her voice that can also enter my life as a rushing, mighty wind? And how does God continue to call me to new ministries of the heart?

I do not know the answer to those questions. Nor do I know who or what I will be when I grow up. So I struggle to know. I plead with God to give me direction. During this season of my life while I am challenged with so many things related to my kidney transplant, I have been somewhat obsessed with finding the answers to all those “who am I?” questions. I despair a little when I can’t find the answers.

Back to the art. Yesterday, I accidentally came across the painting by Canadian artist Rob Gonsalves which is at the top of this post. I was immediately captivated by the image, especially the rushing waterfall that changed into women living life — some of them dancing, others playing their tambourines, others just emerging, still others just beginning to awaken.

The art reminds me of how we might emerge into life — to grow into life, to be open to change, to be willing to embrace a process of becoming. Each of us is engaged in that kind of process whether we know it or not, whether we embrace it or not. We want to experience an awakening that opens our eyes to wonder and our souls to extraordinary newness of life. We want the freedom to be who we are. We don’t want to stay in our awakening place, reticent about moving into the best part of our lives, refusing to move because of our fear. We want to throw off our hesitation and, in search of our dreams, to sing, to dance, to play our tambourines in celebration of our unique personhood.

I am reminded of a beautiful passage of Scripture from the Psalms.

Let them praise his name with dancing,
making melody to him with tambourine and lyre.

— Psalm 149:3 (NRSV)

Isn’t that precisely what we want for our lives? To lean into our true selves so that we are compelled to sing, to dance with tambourines in our hands, to celebrate our lives, to dream and to praise the God who rejoices when we live into freedom and joy!

 

 

 

 

 

Change, Comfort Zone, Dreams, Fear, Growth, Learning, Uncategorized

Becoming Our Better Selves

Revkathy

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I don’t usually write about charts in my blog. I’m not really a chart person at all. But my friend, Kim Rosby, recently sent me a chart that is worth contemplating. The chart is a snapshot of what it might look like when we become our better selves. It’s entitled “The Comfort Zone,” which is a place most of us want to be. 

That’s the problem. There is no growth and maturing in the comfort zone. It can become for us, not just comfortable, but also stagnant.

So I spent some time contemplating this provocative chart, and it definitely provoked some emotions in me. It appears that there are four zones that are possible for us:

  • The Comfort Zone
  • The Fear Zone
  • The Learning Zone
  • The Growth Zone

There you have it! So let’s unpack this chart a bit. When/if we manage to move ourselves out of the comfort zone, a place where we feel safe and in control, we will most likely enter the fear zone. In the fear zone, we are not at all sure of ourselves. We hang on the opinions of other people and use anything we can find as an excuse to remain frozen in place. If we don’t make a move, we can’t make a mistake. Right? We come to a point, though, where we do not believe we can move. We don’t believe we can change. We don’t believe we can seek another way.

Fortunately, some of us do make it out of the fear zone and thus find ourselves in the learning zone. What a renewing place to be, a place where new and fresh ideas are possible. It is in this zone that we realize we have moved at least a few steps past our comfort zone. We learn new skills and we discover that we can navigate challenges and solve problems. As long as we are learning, our path is clear and a future is possible.

So we move with courage into the growth zone, where we will re-invent ourselves in positive and exhilarating ways. As we conquer the objectives that were holding us back, we begin to believe in the possibility of new life goals, a deeper purpose. And then suddenly, we surprise ourselves with dreams and aspirations for something more in our lives, something fresh that inspires us to be our better selves.

I like my friend’s chart. I also like this promise that also says something very compelling about becoming our better selves:

 . . . I came that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.
—Jesus