Rekindling the Gift

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October has arrived and the world here in the north is ablaze with the glory of God. In the Second Reading today from  Timothy 1 the beloved church members are reminded to rekindle the gift of God that is within them that they received from the laying on of hands. God did not give them a spirit of timidity or cowardice that they should hide their gifts but rather with power, love and self-discipline, they should put the gifts to use for the greater good. Holding to the standard of sound teaching that Paul has taught them, they must guard the good treasure that has been entrusted to them, with the help of the Holy Spirit.

Each of us has a gift within us that God longs for us to bring to the world. It is a precious treasure that the world needs. If today we hear God’s voice, the psalmist pleads, harden not your hearts. God is calling each one of us to step forward and share whatever gift it is that we have been given. Some of us have hidden the gift for a long time, and it does require a rekindling of our faith in order to use it again. Sometimes it is because we have been hurt and we do not wish to risk again. Other times, we have been distracted by something else and forgotten our true purpose in life. Various reasons prevent us from guarding the good treasure that belongs to God. As the Apostles demand in the Gospel, so must we say Increase our faith! We must believe that God is labouring with us and through us to bring about the reign of God. Is your gift in need of rekindling?

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Does a spirit of timidity or cowardice prevent you from using the treasure God has given you?

How can you rekindle the gift if necessary?

Prayer

You have given all to me, O God –  a good treasure entrusted in love. May I use the gift for your glory, and rekindle it when I become timid and afraid With the help of the Holy Spirit, may I serve you with joy and thanksgiving.  Amen.

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Full of Days

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One more reading from Job brings us to the end of the book today. The Lord blesses him with great wealth and offspring.  Job died old and full of days we are told. He says that God can do all things, and that no Divine purpose can be thwarted. He repents and receives the blessing that awaited him.

I never really know what to think of this reward system. I am not convinced that this is what I believe. Today was also the Feast Day of St. Therese Lisieux, or the Little Flower, as she was known. Her story stands somewhat in juxtaposition to Job’s. She was not full of days when she died, but rather a mere 24 years of age. However, her life was extraordinary in several ways regardless of its brevity.

She teaches us to be small and humble, to love God in all things, even in those people with whom we dislike. She shows us a simple life, with a great desire to serve God, but even this in the end is not to be the missionary work she longed to do. Simplicity and fidelity are her gifts to us. As with Job, she knows that God is Holy. She sought to serve him in the routine of her daily life, with small acts of great love.

This is a reminder to me that we can be full of days, without a long life, simply by making each day count for something beautiful in the service of God. When we think we understand God and the Divine purpose that unfolds us we should be wary. Our egos can get in the way and that can be an attempt at thwarting what is to be. Job learned that God is the Creator of all things now and ever. He repents of his ways, ways that are all too familiar to us.  I know that I can box God in some days, though I often say my God is a God of surprises. What I share with St. Therese though is a deep love for the Trinity an a desire to serve where I am needed. She says in her autobiography that without love, deeds, even the most brilliant, count as nothing. I think this is accurate. May I always seek to serve with love.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

How are you filling your days?

Does a long life mean a blessed life?

Prayer

God of Grace, give me a heart of love that I may serve you all the days of my life. Amen.

 

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Heart of the Tempest

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The First Readings this week have been mostly from Job, a book from the Hebrew Scriptures. In Chapter 38 today, the Lord is answering Job from the heart of the tempest. What a beautiful phrase and image! The Lord puts Job in his place, while he is struggling with all that has happened to him.  The Lord reminds Job in the midst of his pain and anguish that the Holy One is on the job. He is not sleeping; he is not impotent; he is not unaware. Job is shushed and says he will not speak any more. His frivolous words are ended. No more shall Job challenge the Ancient One, the Lord of all.

Sometimes in my illness, people have forgotten that God is in the heart of my tempest, myself included. I have had to be reminded that God is in my distress, my fears, my weeping–God is here, right with me. Like Job, I have had a pretty happy life–one that has brought many blessings and much joy. I stand in that still–I am blessed and I am joyful. Life continues to offer me much and I remain grateful. As Job did in the end, I praise God, Creator of All, the Alpha and Omega, the One Who Is With Me. I, as Job acknowledged, am of small account. I did not sprinkle the heavens with stars. I have not set the waters in their boundaries. Never have I met the janitors of Shadowland or shaken the wicked out of the earth. No, those marvelous deeds belong to the Lord of All. God has been in the tempest long before me. God has waited for me there. God has sopped up the blood that covers the path and made a way for me to join hands in the desert.

Gifts arrive sometimes unexpectedly. The other day while listening to the radio, I heard a new song by a local artist named Jaylene Johnson called Lord of All that grabbed my full attention. I had to google what it was and who sang it when I finally got home that day. The line that mesmerized me was You’re Lord of all the hurricanes, I’ll never handle on my own.  Yes, I thought, in this week of Job readings. You are indeed Lord of all. Our job is simply to praise in the midst of it and to remain human, which is to embrace all the emotions that will collide in one heart, caught in the tempest–the faith, the doubt, the joy, the sorrow, the pain, the praise, the fear, the peace–and keep going.

Job and I have learned the lesson of a Creator who we do not follow in blind faith but that we follow nonetheless–even, and especially, when we cannot make sense of what is unfolding. We have had privileged lives and were grateful. We have come under attack, and though there are times that appear that we falter, we know that God is inviting us to direct conversation right in the heart of the hurricane that we cannot handle on our own. I may not be perfect in this clumsy dance I am doing, but I do recognize that the One who leads me, is in the heart of the suffering and confusion, and enters into a dialogue few do not flee from. This God was here before the earth was set and nothing new under heaven will befall me. This is the Creator, and as St. Ignatius would say, I am the creature. This Wisdom of All Ages is with whom I choose to stand. Join me?

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Have you ever argued with God in the heart of the tempest?

Can you endure the conversation that needs to happen there?

Prayer

In the heart of the tempest, I find You, Holy One, waiting, wanting a word. You remind me that You are the Creator and I am the creature. I am beloved and covered by your grace. You alone are Holy, Lord of All. Praise be You! Amen.

 

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Calling All Angels

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Calling all angels….those words washed over me on this Feast Day of Sts. Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel 24 years ago. I woke up and reached for my missalette. My body, mind and soul were weighted with unbearable grief. As I glanced which Feast Day was being celebrated, I burst into tears. This was the day we chose to have my sister’s memorial service but we had had no idea that it was an angel day. She was 26 when she died on the 26th, suddenly of meningococcemia meningitis.

I somehow knew I would survive the day’s anguish and that Corrinne was ok. She was safe and at peace. The rest of us would never be the same but we would find our way. My sister’s death and the months that followed had been the most challenging life event I had ever faced to that point. Even in all of my own recent medical issues, I suspect that her death changed me in ways that only grief can, marking me for a ready acceptance of where I find myself today.

I went to an early mass this morning at a church with a great preacher as I had an appointment at the time I usually go to my parish. The priest began his homily by saying we believe in angels. Yes, I thought, we do. I remember how angels worked so hard the day my sister, lay dying. Everything seemed to unfold as it should. That brought great comfort as the days went by, in the shock and numbness of loss. God had been present that day, taking care of each detail. Yes, there were things I would change but mostly, I believe that a multitude of the heavenly hosts were attending to my family.

I do not know what heaven is like — I have an image in my head of Light, Joy, Peace, and much singing and praise. I envision angelic choirs singing, and me having a voice among them with ecstasy. Here on earth, we hold the pain and suffering, looking to that day when there are no more tears, trusting our angels to walk with us through it all.

I wrote the following on the first anniversary of Corrinne’s death.

Angels

Working overtime

Double time

Keep me safe

Keep me sane

Angels

Pain numbing me

Ripping my heart apart

Shaking my faith

Angels

i can’t

You can

i believe

We know you do

Angels

Help me

Heal me

Work with me

Walk with me

Angels

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

How have your angels protected you?

What has changed you in ways that are marked?

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Afflicted Not Crushed

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The readings today are for the feast of Saint Jean Brebeuf and his companions here in Canada. Brebeuf is a Canadian saint, a Jesuit who died while working among the Aboriginal people in Ontario. Today has been quite a day. I attended a funeral and then went to see my social worker. Now I am lounging in a cabin with my sister and niece.

The funeral was in the Ukrainian Catholic Church. I found myself a bit distracted by the beauty of this liturgy which is somewhat familiar but distinct from the Roman rite. The man who passed away was 92–he had been doing 100 push ups a day up until about two years ago I think the priest said. That is quite remarkable. I remember him as his daughter is a friend from elementary school days. I spent quite a bit of time over at their home for many years, at parties, study groups, and just hanging out.

Funerals have taken on a critical eye now–what do I want at mine? Today was also poignant as it is the 24th anniversary of my youngest sister’s death. I cannot help but think that this is a double whammie for my family. They have lost one daughter/sister and now face that scenario again, though this time with a much longer processing time than the quick death of my sister. Needless to say I arrived at my social worker’s office in an agitated state.

He bounced around with me as my brain flitted from one thought to the other. He is  patient man. In the end, we landed on the topic of listening and holding space. I am tired lately and I remained a bit out of sorts but I could still spot God today and that brought me peace. I knew the social worker was listening to me even if my thoughts were all jumbled. As we talked, I mentioned that I had read about different types of listeners from a newsletter by Heather Plett that mentioned Love Warrior, Glennon Melton Doyle’s new book, which explains some of the ways people respond:

In her raw and beautiful new book, Love Warrior, Glennon Melton Doyle talks about how hard it was to share the story of her husband’s infidelity and their resulting marriage breakdown. There are six kinds of people who respond.

•The Shover is the one who “listens with nervousness and then hurriedly explains that ‘everything happens for a reason,’ or ‘it’s darkest before the dawn,’ or ‘God has a plan for you.’”
•The Comparer is the person “nods while ‘listening’, as if my pain confirms something she already knows. When I finish she clucks her tongue, shakes her head, and respond with her own story.”
•The Fixer “is certain that my situation is a question and she knows the answer. All I need is her resources and wisdom and I’ll be able to fix everything.”

•The Reporter “seems far too curious about the details of the shattering… She is not receiving my story, she is collecting it. I learn later that she passes on the breaking news almost immediately, usually with a worry or prayer disclaimer.”
•The Victims are the people who “write to say they’ve hear my news secondhand and they are hurt I haven’t told them personally. They thought we were closer than that.
•And finally, there are “the God Reps. They believe they know what God wants for me and they ‘feel led’ by God to ‘share.’”

I did not talk about any group in particular. My therapist asked me if I had experienced being “held” and I responded with a yes, but how I long for more of that. Holding space without hurrying me along, sharing your own story, trying to fix the brokenness, later outing my personal sharing, pouting about how I shut you out, or falsely representing my Beloved is a wonderful experience.  I found such space in several places this summer as  traveled. I find it among a handful of people in my core network. I am as guilty as others when I think of how I listen and respond. Few people can go to the dark, scary edge with me. Fewer still can sit on the cliff silently as I bare my soul about the sadness I feel about certain things. When they do though, I am given permission to free myself of inhibitions and fears. I can say things that I have not yet said out loud that need to be said and that is very healing. I need to say important things such as telling someone that I am so very sad to be missing out on watching her children blossom into amazing adults. That she is an awesome parent and I so admire her so I know that all will be well but still a part of me wishes that I could watch that on this side of heaven.

I wonder what it would be like if my sister was still here–and all that she has missed these 24 years. What joys and sorrows would have visited her? How would she have aged? What gifts would she have offered our world? A friend of mine sent an email earlier today, just as I was arriving at my appointment. What a glorious day to be alive, she wrote.  The words stopped me in my tracks. Yes, I thought. Exactly. My sister did not have that luxury but I still do. God had my attention.

This notion that life is hard is sometimes our own choice. I am trying to live vulnerably and honestly.  Some days are just plain sad. Today had moments like that for sure.  As I hugged my childhood friend to comfort her she said to me, I think of you every single day and I know that she is holding me in her prayers. Another friend called me in the middle of the day to talk and I stretched out on my bed and gave her my full attention, giving and receiving blessings. Driving out to the country the wide open prairie spaces seeped into my soul.  Sometimes we can abandon our suffering and choose to embrace the good that God plants on our path. We can be afflicted but not crushed as the reading says today.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Who can hold space for you that frees your innermost thoughts and heals you?

How are you afflicted but not crushed?

Prayer

Creator, I can tell you anything…and you do not judge or complain. Show me how to listen and respond with empathy and compassion. Teach me how to open space for those who need an ear. Allow me to be held lovingly by others so that my heart has space to heal. Amen.

 

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Carried Away

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The story of Lazarus and the rich man is haunting. Really, we could substitute ourselves into the scene in true Ignatian-style contemplation and be the rich man.  What would it be that would keep us on the other side of the great chasm? Are we as ignorant about our sin?  I suspect most of us are. Some of us know our foibles only too well–our sin is ever before us. However, I suspect that we all have our blind spots just as the rich man did. I am sure he thought he was living a good life and would go to heaven.

We see glimpses though of his entitlement, even in his agony. He continues to ignore the poor man, addressing Father Abraham, and asking for him to send Lazarus over to wait upon his needs–or at least, send him to convince his remaining family to change their ways. Ironically, he may have missed the point. Lazarus was not some slave to be ordered around. He was not a man created to serve the rich man’s needs. He was simply a fellow human being, worthy of dignity and respect.  The rich, nameless man knew who he was but he never for a moment speaks directly to Lazarus. What does this say about him?

As my friends to the south prepare for an election, certain issues raise to the forefront. More shootings of black men have occurred this past week. I wonder how big that chasm is in heaven these days, and how many black lives are sitting with Lazarus, resting at last in the bosom of Abraham, carried there by angels. How many murdered and missing Indigenous women would be on that side, forgotten by many here, yet grieved by loved ones every single day since their tragic deaths? How many privileged people who believe they are entitled to the good life are no longer satisfied and are left in torment?

What would Father Abraham say to me in my demands over the abyss? Would I find mercy? Would I finally get a true wake-up call? I believe in the mercy of God and I do not know if there is a holding place for good souls who miss the mark by a hundred or so meters. In the Second Reading, the people of God are exhorted to pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness.  We are urged to grab hold of eternal life and in not so gentle terms, to fight the good fight of faith. If we keep our eyes on Jesus, perhaps we will be shown how to pursue those things that strip away our sense of entitlement and create clean hearts within us.  Maybe then we will have more compassion on the squeegee kid, the beggar on the corner, and all the poor in front of us.  With any ounce of grace, we will all be carried away by angels.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Who is your Lazarus?

When does your sense of entitlement get the best of you?

Prayer

May I be carried away by angels to rest in the bosom of Abraham and the arms of Jesus.  Strip away my sense of entitlement, God, that I may not be blinded by my own needs and miss you here. Keep my eyes open to the Lazaruses that are right at my feet, wanting just a sliver of what I need. May my heart learn to see each person as a human, a family member.  May all who have gone before us find mercy and love at the end of their journey. Amen.

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Remember Your Creator

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Ecclesiastes continued today but I cannot say this was a familiar reading to me. The opening words are rejoice! Let your heart delight while you are young. The reader is encouraged to follow the inclinations of the heart, knowing that God will judge on these behaviours. We are to remember our Creator while we are young, before we encounter trouble, before all hell breaks loose basically.

Remember the Creator while we are still innocent, before we are jaded, and before we can cling to denial. Some day, women will be brought low, strong men are bent, and terrors will abound because all will go to their eternal home. The imagery is striking. The mourners will go about the street with brokenness all around–the silver cord, the golden bowl, the pitcher and the cistern wheel. I read these words and recognized some of the pain and sorrow attached to them.

We are human and we will falter–as I have been doing lately. I know that the season will pass. I think we need to acknowledge these feelings before we can move away from them. There is no shame in being vulnerable. There is wisdom in digging deep and remembering the Creator over the whole of our life instead of ignoring the nagging voices that are stealing our sanity in the moment.  Those harsh discords are often not God’s voice but the darkness bidding us loudly towards distraction. Ignoring the chatter is exhausting. Examining it, even befriending the emotions that have arisen, are what will bring Light.

I love how the Creator does work in my life. I was home this evening and decided to check my PVR for shows I had recorded but not yet watched. I clicked on Super Soul Sunday and scrolled down the list. Glennon Doyle Melton was one of the names among the several listed. I listened to my intuition as I have just recently discovered this blogger. The words  the only way to live is to forgive yourself constantly for being human flashed across the screen at one point. I smiled and nodded. When you take the time to listen, the message you need will arrive.  Doyle Melton also talked about the emotions not leaving until they have taught you what you need to know. Yes, Creator, I am listening. I remember your steadfast love and mercy; I know that the Creator is also remembering me.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

What lessons are your emotions teaching you?

How do you remember the Creator of your youth?

Prayer

Creator, I remember you from the early days of my youth, when you grabbed hold of my heart and never let go. I remember the delight of hearing your Word and feeling your Presence. When there are terrors in the road, I retreat to you, trusting that you will restore me. You will remember me. Amen.

 

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A Time to Be Grumpy

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For everything there is a season….so says the First Reading today. I think I have entered a new emotional season. I have been here for some time but I have been trying to push through, to carry on as if life is normal, despite its surrealness. Somewhere in the past month, a new thing under heaven has nudged me too many times to ignore.  I have not been myself. Walking with a friend the other day I told her I feel as if I have used up all my kindness. I am on the edge of tears and grumpy. She looked lovingly at me and said she was glad I was human.

She did make me laugh. I have been on the go constantly and I need to retreat a bit. The Gospel today opens with Jesus praying alone. I took some to be alone today, on this feast day of Padre Pio. I have said that people all over the globe have been praying for me and this saint figures into that equation by some people who are devoted to him. Saint Pius of Pietrelcina, as Padre Pio is formally known, is an Italian Capuchin who was a stigmatic. People sought him for wise counsel and confession.

I need to seek counsel today. I have begun looking for a new home. I have started to wrap my head around paying more for rent than I have ever paid in order to have a spare room, in an accessible apartment in the centre area of my city. I looked at one place and decided to spend the money. When the prognosis was delivered in January, a friend told me to get a lovely place for myself and not spare the cost as the oncologist said I will not be able to do stairs eventually. She knew me well obviously as I feel tremendously guilty but this may become my small world and so I do need a place of comfort that will bring peace and joy.

I thought I had a place lined up. I loved the view overlooking the river and the Catholic girls school. There were a number of positive features. I went home and crunched numbers before deciding to take it. When I called back I asked about the move-in bonus and was told she would check and get back to me. When I was called back, the story had changed a bit.  I was not impressed and said I was not sure I was still interested. The woman tried back peddling but I said I would sleep on it and call her back in the morning. She called me later in the evening after showing it to another person who obviously did not take it. I was still annoyed and told her again that I would call her in the morning.

I woke up after asking people to pray about a home, thinking it was really me who needed to pray. I was quite frustrated and because I am off kilter, easily grumpy again. I decided to head to church.  Sometimes, there is a funeral and today there was. I sat there, distracted and exhausted. I just wanted to lay down in the pew and sleep–or cry, I was not sure which would be more helpful. Afterwards, I knelt before the Sacred Heart of Jesus and put all of my concerns into that spacious heart.  I felt some of the burden lift. God will provide, I heard as I prayed. Yes, I thought, God always has, always does, and always will.

For everything there is a season–including grumpiness. I am learning to be gentle with myself, thanks to my friend’s teasing and the quiet time spent with Jesus today. I do not know what my new home will look like but I have asked that God go ahead of me and pick it out for me. I am feeling much calmer, knowing it is in good hands.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

When was the last time you took some quiet time with Jesus?

What happens when you bump into your humanness?

Prayer

Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place in your abundant heart all of my needs knowing that you have my best interest at heart. Really. My heart and your heart belong together. May I surrender all to  you, trusting that you have the perfect plan. Amen.

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More.Than.Enough

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Sea glass…..I have gathered it for a number of years, from all over the world—from Lake Winnipeg to White Rock to Puerto Vallarta to Cape of Good Hope in South Africa.  I love the symbolism.  Sea glass is something like a bottle that once was whole and is now broken, but not useless. It becomes a beach treasure—a gift from the sea or the lake.  If it is really sea glass–then it tastes like tears.  Similarly, our lives can be shattered. Slowly, over time, healing can happen and we too can be transformed into a treasure. Sorrow can become joy again.

The truth of the matter is most of us are broken in life. The reasons may vary but somehow along the way we forget that we are a precious treasure, created whole and good. Glennon Doyle Melton of the blog Momastery says, life is brutiful—a mix of brutal and beautiful.  That phrase definitely describes my amazing life adventure.   My story begins early in life. My grandmother told me once that I did not speak much before the age of three. Instead of going to Kindergarten, I attended speech therapy classes. I could not say certain consonant blends well — I would say tree for the number three. I struggled with the J sound. You can imagine the nightmare Grade 1 was for me with the Dick and Jane books: See Jane jump. Jump, Jane, jump.  Plus I had three friends named Joanne, one named Janet and there was a boy named Jeffrey. I really struggled because of my inability to speak like everyone else did and yet I could read better than most of the other children because of my speech lessons had taught me many sight words and I could do basic math because my older brother had taught me.  However, I was an excruciatingly shy child because of “speaking funny”.

Before I entered Grade 1 my mom and I had to have an interview with the principal. I had to tell a story from a giant picture which I did and my memory is that I told a pretty decent one as I had a great imagination. However, it was not good enough to convince the powers that be of the proper placement for me.  I am sure they had my best interests at heart, but the message that I walked away with that day was that I was not smart enough so would be put in the “dumb” class. Unfortunately, I hung on to that message for four decades. It broke a piece of me.

The message that we are not enough is a lie–but it took me a long while to figure that out. It showed up often in my life and I certainly recognized it in others.  Countless women believe they are not smart enough, skinny enough, pretty enough, sexy enough, funny enough—fill in your own blank …just plain not enough. I worked with Deaf children for over 15 years—and with Deaf adults for over 30. I saw how some individuals thought that Deaf people were not enough.  Deaf people are most certainly enough. I had the privilege of having a student on my caseload that became the first Deaf physician in Manitoba.  She somehow seemed to figure out early in life that she was enough. I see it when I visit Stony Mountain Institution where I have done prison ministry for over a decade. Many of the men there do not think they are strong enough, good enough, nice enough, kind enough…they do not believe that they are loveable.  An umbrella organization that I sit on the board for has three great ministries that begin to erase the messages that these ex-offenders are not enough. They need to know that they are more than their worst mistakes. In fact, we all do.

Whatever happens to us in life – whatever breaks us – does not have to have the last word. Do not let adversity destroy you. Let’s look at the sea glass analogy again. Something that was once whole is shattered. It loses its original purpose.  It tumbles in the roughness of the sea and all of the jagged edges are polished smooth. This may take a while—seemingly forever. The shine and even the clarity will disappear. Instead a beautiful new texture appears.  What appears worthless or useless has become a delightful treasure with a new meaning. People search for this treasure. It represents resilience, hope, and wisdom.   This piece of sea glass is no longer so easily broken. The struggle has become its strength.

So what happened to that girl who was broken by her Grade 1 experience? She who did not find a voice early in life ended up in a career where she did public speaking and teaching. That girl in grade one who was put in the slow class won the gold medal at university when she graduated. Not that I tried to – I didn’t even know it existed. I had to Google it to find out what exactly what I had done when I got the letter telling me I had won it.  I do not tell you this to brag but to let you know that the brokenness did not win.  I learned along the way that not only was I smart enough, I was enough. The lie had been replaced by the truth. Like a piece of sea glass I had been transformed. That was a profound life lesson for me.

My brutiful life has had some significant challenges – not the least of which is being diagnosed with cancer for which there is no cure yet. This summer, while visiting with friends, one asked me what life wisdom could I share. Here is what I would say:

  1. Don’t believe everything people say about you, especially when it is negative.
  2. Being broken is not the end result, being transformed into a new precious treasure is.
  3. Look for beauty in life and be prepared to find it in odd places, like a glimmer hidden in the sand.
  4. Miracles happen every single day if we have but eyes to see.
  5. We are all more.than.enough.
  6. Hold on to hope.
  7. Who you were does not have to be who you are.
  8. The only moment we have is now. Use it well.

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Do you believe you are more.than.enough?

Has your brokenness been transformed into treasure yet?

Prayer

Creator of all, you made me whole and good. Help me to believe that, even when I feel shattered. Teach me to trust that whatever you have in store is for your glory. Smooth the jagged edges. Let me let go of the clarity and shine long enough to be transformed. I pray for hope, resilience and wisdom.  Make me your beautiful new treasure.  Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Accompanying Jesus

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Today’s Gospel is brief but reveals that journeying with Jesus were a group of women who had been healed by him.  My mind is on some of my women friends tonight. It has flitted prayerfully from one to another throughout the course of the day because one was having surgery, another was seeing a specialist to see about her condition and a third is in hospital for the weekend. I also have just hung up the phone from another friend who called me to chat. I have had her on my mind for a few nights as her sister had passed away this summer and I had gone down to the funeral with a couple friends. I had hoped to call her earlier in the week but had not so was blessed that we were clearly thinking about one another. Women in need of healing gather with other women folk in our hearts when we cannot meet face to face.

These women in Luke 8 are said to accompany Jesus and to have provided for him out of their resources. I wonder on a night like tonight if that necessarily meant financial, or if it meant emotionally and spiritually. I am sure these women prayed with and for Jesus. I depend on my friends, particularly my female counterparts, but not exclusively, to pray for me and to help me sort through all the emotional pitfalls of life lately.

Earlier today I listened to the rest of the Wisdom of Story lesson that Glennon Doyle Melton is facilitating with Brene Brown.  I watched these two women share very intimate moments with each other and once again realize how remarkably blessed I am to have the amazing support networks that I have. Healing happens when we tell our stories. During the course, this quote from Maya Angelou was used:  There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.   I imagine Magdalene telling her story to the other women about what her life had been like before Jesus cast out the seven demons that tormented her and how it had changed since that point.

I have said it before but the conversations I have with many people, but in particular, my women folk, heal me. We go to wonderful depths of intimacy–both joyful and sorrow-filled. At the hospital today, I listened as my friend dug deep and shared what has been going on and I matched her with my own story. Tonight on the phone, there was much laughter, unlike the tears shared the last two times I saw my friend. With each of the people I spoke to today, I have had long friendships–some over three decades. Each friendship has a different structure to it but each one is dear to me. I am glad that I do not have to bear an untold story because I have listeners who will take the cross for awhile, who will cheer me on, and who will love me despite my faults. I took a time out today to pray for them–all of whom have been praying for me.

We all have our demons–we all struggle to overcome the fears and doubts that arise when the sands seem to shift.  We call out to Jesus and often for me,  Jesus arrives in human form via a woman who can provide His healing touch. We who accompany Jesus, also accompany one another and bear the story that needs to be told until the teller is strong again. Such a gift!

Peace,

Suzanne

Reflection Questions

Are you needing to share an untold story to be free of it?

Who are the women who accompany you with Jesus?

Prayer

Jesus, you knew women. You loved us–you still love us. You take all our demons, all our untold stories, our shame, and our pain and transform it to light, truth and peace. I thank you for the gift of your accompaniment and for the healers you have given me. Amen.

 

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