"Remember surrender..."

"Remember surrender?
Remember the rest.
Remember that weight
lifting off of your chest.
And realizing that it's not up to you...
and it never was...."

Sometimes a song, like Sara Grove's "Remember Surrender," captures the tone, texture, and colors of what is going on in my heart...so well...that I have little more to say than...thank you.  I am going to let these lyrics speak first...

"Remember surrender?
Remember relief?
Remember how tears rolled down
both of your cheeks?
As the warmth of a heavenly father
came closing in.

"I want to do that again.
Why can't I just live there,
And make my home
in sweet surrender?
I want to do so much more
than remember..."

"Remember surrender?
Remember the peace?
Remember how soundly
you fell fast asleep?
In the face of your troubles
your future still shone
like the morning sun.

"Remember surrender?
Remember that sound..
of all of those voices inside dying down?
But the one who speaks clearly
of helping and healing you deep within.

"I want to do that again.
Why can't I live there?
And make my home
in the space of sweet surrender.
I want to do so much more
than remember...

So surrender...."

There have been times when it felt like "remembering," suddenly shifts into something akin to a haunting, before I've been able to detect the mask.  When it does, I am often snookered into believing that I just have to turn off the "remembering" switch altogether, and then babble a distracting "la, la, la, la..."  in my head until my thoughts are clear again.  And I have to admit, that it hasn't always been easy. 

But, I am learning that its the perfect opportunity to exercise Jesus' message of:

"I am not come to destroy...but to fulfill."

I don't have to array myself for a battle with the concept of remembering, I just have to reclaim it for God.  I can remember all the ways that I have experienced God's mercy, been surprised by His grace, healed by His reminder: "I am with thee," and touched by the gentle strength of His presence.

I can remember what it feels like to surrender into His arms.  I can remember the peace that comes with surrendering all my worrying, and planning, to his wisdom.  I can remember that the greatest gift I can bring to the altar, is my absolute trust in His nature as infinite, unyielding, inexhaustible Love.

I can remember the joy of complete surrender...silence, stillness, a quiet...

sigh...

Kate

"Everybody has a right..."

"The price you pay for freedom,
might just be your liberty.
Everybody has the right
to be free...."

In this video, Bob Lucas', "Everybody Has a Right," is beautifully rendered by my "sister," Lisa.  Her voice pleads for individual and collective surrender.  It implores us to release our hold on the hearts, and lives, of others.  It speaks to what is inherently generous in us...and it is timeless.  It speaks to that which loves to watch butterflies, hummingbirds, a leaf carried on the river's song, geese in migratory flight .

It would have been hard for me to watch it, tonight, and not make the connection between it's message of liberty, and that of countless other freedom songs I've long loved.   From "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," to "We Shall Overcome," men and women of every race and color have employed music to share their cry for emancipation.

I remember standing on the steps of my high school in the late sixties and singing:

"Mine eyes have seen the glory
of the coming of the Lord...

In the beauty of the lilies
Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom
that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy,
let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
While God is marching on."

We were just kids poised on the brink of a future, we were absolutely certain was filled...to the brim...with humanity's collective hopes for religious, racial, and gender freedoms.  Civil rights, women's rights, the right to worship, the right to vote...all these things were calling us forward.

Martin Luther King and the Kennedy brothers were our heroes.  And we really did think that we were on the verge of something so revolutionary, that the world would never be the same.  We had a dream...we still do.

Lisa's rendition of "Everyone has a Right," reminds me of that gray January day. We were a rag tag group of long-haired teenage revolutionaries...in mini skirts, jeans, and fringed buckskin vests...singing the only freedom song we knew well enough to sing without hesitation .- we'd all memorized it in grade school.  We sang because singing united us in protest of all that seemed so unjust...a war, segregation, gender inequality in education, sports, business, finance, family.

Our plea was simple.  Please let us go.  Please release your hold on our lives' promise.  Please let us, and our brothers and sisters of color, have the freedom to...well, just be.  To be all that our hearts have desired, our minds have dreamed, and our hopes have propelled us towards.

Another "sister," Heather, reminded me...today...that Martin Luther King, Jr. once wrote:

"I refuse to accept the view, that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war, that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."

I do too.  I believe, with all my heart, that "unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word," and we will all be free.  When we love someone...or many someones...we are selfless enough to yield our hold on their hearts, their lives, their dreams.   We rejoice in their liberty, we celebrate their independence, we delight in watching them pursue their God's inspired hopes.  We sing...

Still singing...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit: Nathaniel Wilder 2010]

"I surrender, I surrender..."

"...Constantly my mind and my heart is racing
All by myself trying to solve all these problems I'm facing
Looking to man trying to find hope
But man will never know the depth of my struggles
I was depending on myself
To give myself a hand
But when depending on myself
Fell time again
And that's why I'm standing here alone
With no one else
Lord, I realised that I can't fight these battles by myself

I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
Coming out with both hands up
I surrender..."
-     R. Kelly  "I Surrender"

I was looking at the topical index on this blog and discovered that the subject of "surrender" is the one I have written the most about in the last few years.  It made me smile.  33 pieces that focus, in some way, on the subject of surrender.  The second was "adoption"....hmmm.  Not surprising...they go together.  They are so inherently linked that I can no longer imagine one, without the other.  Mary Baker Eddy says, in her article, "The New Birth":

"...The new birth is not the work of a moment.
It begins with moments,
and goes on with years;
moments of surrender to God,
of childlike trust and joyful adoption of good;
moments of self-abnegation, self-consecration,
heaven-born hope, and spiritual love."

As an adoptive mom I had to learn to surrender...surrender my romantic models of what it meant to be a mother, surrender control of the process, and over and over again...surrender my children to...well, not being "my children"...but children I share with everyone that loves them and cherishes their identity, worth, and promise....everyone that "mothers" them. 

Surrender and adoption characterize every little (and big) corner of my life.  My family, my work, my home, my calling, my prayers, my friendships, my place in the world...everything. 

And yet, as often as I have written about surrender, I have never told the story about how I learned one of my first big lessons in surrendering control, yielding my "right" to have a hand in things that are not mine to direct, and letting go of my plans for what being "right" needed to look, feel, and sound like...even if it's just in my own "head."

I hope you'll bear with me, but it starts with the first time I had a full body massage.  I had completed work with a new client, and in the envelope with her payment, was a note in which she extended a generous invitation.  She asked that I please accept the gift of her professional services...an aromatherapy massage.

At first blush (and I really mean blush) I hesistated for a number of cultural reasons...but only briefly.  She had become a loved member of my community circle through our work together and was offering a gift from her heart and her life...I could only accept her gift in the way it was intended...and I did.   But then my real hesitation started to scream...I didn't want to undress and be touched by anyone...much less a new friend I had begun a professional relationship with!  But over and over again I couldn't help but remembered the sincerity of her offer and her use of the word "gift."  And so I put my extreme modesty aside and called to set up an appointment for as far out on the calendar as I could without making my avoidance issues obvious.  But each day, that appointment drew closer and closer, until her name was staring up from the pages of my calendar and I couldn't cancel it gracefully.

I arrived at her studio...then housed in a lovely old vicotrian mansion near my home...one cold, gray late November afternoon. I was a shivering, teeth-chattering nervous wreck.  I was about to get naked with a peer.  This was a very new experience for me.  I was not at ease with my body.  I was not comfortable with having my body seen, much less touched.  We were friends, but this was a bit more than I was ready to do for a friendship.  I almost had myself talked out of the massage and into a quick cup of hot chocolate...my treat of course...at our neighborhood coffeehouse, when she came into the waiting room and greeted me with a steaming mug of herbal tea, the perfume of lavender and eucalyptus oil trailing her every soft step. 

I found myself at ease in the glow of her gentle eyes and shy smile.  I could see that this was a stretch for her too.  I was not a "client" that had come to her for therapeutic services, I was a new friend she had courageously offered her gifts to.

Once in her small, but warmly lit and softly scented studio she showed me where I could hang my clothes and invited me to make myself comfortable on the massage table between crisp white sheets and warmed quilts. 

When she returned to the room I was again tense and nervous.  I had never been comfortable with being touched and this was going a bit far.  But I decided if I was going to do this...and there was no graceful way to back out at that point...I would be a very good massagee...I would anticipate when she needed resistance, cooperation, I would be chatty...like I was with my hairdresser...entertaining and curious about her life, her children, her dreams.  I would be the best client she ever had. 

Once she began, however I wasn't a bit comfortable.  I was feeling like a failure.  I wasn't getting it right and I knew it even though she never said a thing.  I would push back against the pressure of her hands on my shoulders, I would hold in my stomach when she had me turn on my back, I lifted my head when she attempted to softly roll my neck from side to side...and I talked and talked and talked. 

Finally, I said, "I am so sorry that I'm not a good client.  I just don't have much experience at this and I don't know what to do to help you."

She softly said, "nothing...you need to do nothing.  Just surrender to my hands.  I think this will be the hardest thing you have ever done, no? But, I can only do my job if you aren't trying to do my job too.  Shall we start over?" she asked.  I started to cry.  Silent tears ran down my temples and pooled in my ears.  She never mentioned them, just dried them with a soft towel and helped me learn how to surrender.

I learned that I could completely let the weight of my head fall in her hands and trust her to not twist it off my neck.  I learned that when you agree to let someone care for you, you must not try to take control or attempt to anticipate their next move so that you can work with them in providing what you assume will be helpful...resistance or cooperation.  I learned that it is important to just let...let your self...your self-determinism...go, and allow your life, your plans, your body be moved into place by Someone else.

It was one of the most instructive two hours of my spiritual life.  It was like a practicum in surrender...a lab on yielding.  I am still returning to that afternoon on a massage table...underneath cool sheets and a warm quilt...when I need to remember the posture of letting go, surrendering to God's care, Her plan, Her strategy for aligning the body of my life, my work, my family, my world, with Her intent.

Often when I am lying on the floor of my "office" praying, I am mentally and spiritually re-enacting that time when silencing the need to hear the sound of conversation to assure me that I am doing my part in a relationship, yielding my desire to be "helping" the real Doer, and surrendering to Her touch, Her moving of my heart...the body of my affections...and adopting the direction of Her intent...the greatest good...for me, and mine, and all, made all the difference.

I have included a link to R. Kelly's "I Surrender" it is so powerful.  I hope you will take the time to listen to it, perhaps even while you are reading this piece...

with love...and in surrender,
Kate

Home by Another Way

When I think of New Year's songs I often turn to either the familiar "Auld Lang Syne"...whether sung by James Taylor on his new CD or on any one of the hundreds of recorded versions available in every musical genre from Willie Nelson to Sting....or I return the magical words  "met my old lover in a grocery store..." version of "Another Auld Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg...either work on December 31st.  But one year I was surprised to find myself humming what has since become my favorite New Year's song. It isn't on any Christmas album...even though it is all about the birth of the infant Saviour in Bethlehem.  Nor is "Home By Another Way" considered a "holiday classic" in any circles...even with JT cultists like me... but it is funny, moving, profound and gave me the spiritual "kick in the pants" that I needed at a critical time.

Home By Another Way (Mayer/Taylor)

Those magic men the Magi,
some people call them wise or Oriental, even kings.
Well anyway, those guys, they visited with Jesus,
they sure enjoyed their stay.
Then warned in a dream of King Herod's scheme,
they went home by another way.
Yes, they went home by another way, home by another way.
Maybe me and you can be wise guys too
and go home by another way.
We can make it another way,
safe home as they used to say.
Keep a weather eye to the chart on high
and go home another way.

Steer clear of royal welcomes, avoid a big to-do.
A king who would slaughter the innocents will not cut a deal for you.
He really, really wants those presents,
he'll comb your camel's fur
until his boys announce they've found trace amounts
of your frankincense, gold and myrrh.
Time to go home by another way, home by another way.
You have to figure the Gods, saying play the odds,
and go home by another way.
We can make it another way, safe home as they used to say.
Keep a weather eye to the chart on high and go home another way.

Home is where they want you now,
you can more or less assume that you'll be welcome in the end.
Mustn't let King Herod haunt you so
or fantasize his features when you're looking at a friend.
Well it pleasures me to be here and to sing this song tonight,
they tell me that life is a miracle
and I figured that they're right.
But Herod's always out there, he's got our cards on file.
It's a lead pipe cinch, if we give an inch,
old Herod likes to take a mile.
It's best to go home by another way, home by another way.
We got this far to a lucky star,
but tomorrow is another day.
We can make it another way,
safe home as they used to say.
Keep a weather eye to the chart on high
and go home another way.

So as you can see it isn't for the metaphysical purist when it comes to languaging...but it really resonates with me whenever I am listening for divine guidance and direction. 

I have realized that one of the ways that "Herod" would undermine the divine in my experience is by convincing me that there is only one way "home."  Mary Baker Eddy defines "home" in a number of ways...two of my favorite are "the dearest spot on earth" and "the center...though not the boundary...of the affections" and there have been times in my life when the route to "home" was very singular for me.  It was what I knew and what I saw as the only path and by golly I was going to stick to that slice of paving no matter what.   It was "do or die" and I was a master of do-ing.  If someone could stick to the ship it was me. I would make a plan work, a strategy succeed, a design fit...because the plan, strategy, or design was God-inspired and divinely revealed "from the beginning" and therefore it was my role to stay on course. 

But one year as I was sitting at my kitchen counter with the Bible and Science and Health...my trusty, reliable, and constant navigational tools...spread open around me, I found myself thinking about my friend Moses. 

Here was a guy who was obedient every step of the way.  God says, "lift up your rod".... he's all over it, "take off your shoes"....done,  "lead a nation out of Egypt".....I'm on my way.  So Moses takes off with the Hebrew nation, leading them out of slavery, cruelty and bondage through the desert out of Egypt in the wake of a locust invasion, the river turning to blood and frogs, frogs, frogs and things are going pretty well. That is until Pharaoh (a guy who for all emotional intents and purposes has a direct link to Herod) wakes up to what he has allowed....all the cheap labor has left the city in the midst of a construction boom...pyramids and sphinxes aren't built by kings and princes you know...and he gathers his soldiers and they decide to chase the Hebrews down and bring them back to finish a couple of those Seven Wonders of the World.

The Hebrews are marching along through the desert singing "Kumbaya" and "...my knapsack on my back"  (you know the one..."valderee valderah, valderee, valderah, hah, hah...") sharing gorp and writing in their wilderness journals, when someone puts his ear to the dusty ground and hears the rumbling of horses and chariots bearing down on them. 

Well, they are pretty upset...this whole leaving bondage thing sounded pretty good when Moses proposed it...no more whippings from soldiers, gorp instead of pots of yucky mush that boiled away over a fire all day, sleeping under the stars....but the gorp was running low and it was cold under the stars and dang all this walking was making their feet sore.  And besides that Moses was a lousy navigator...God or no God he had taken then on a path that led them to a dead end.   The were sitting at the edge of a sea with no boats. 

Soon everyone was sitting on the ground whining about their plight...at least in Egypt we had fleshpots...at least in Egypt we could...and on and on it went. 

My buddy Moses tries to calm them down with "stand ye still and see the salvation of the Lord"...but even that was wearing a little thin...wasn't it this same Lord who had gotten them there in the first place and now they would have to walk all the way back but this time with soldiers prodding and taunting them along and perhaps with whips at their backs.

But even the Lord Himself was not satisfied with Moses' response to their complaint and fear....He asks His good, faithful, and obedient servant Moses "wherefore criest thou unto me, speak to the Children of Israel that they go forward"...well, doggone it...how many times have I, like Moses, wanted to just sit still and search the landscape for paths that are familiar, well worn, or have been bushwhacked by another traveler...or I've had my triptik from what I thought was the spiritual version of the AAA in hand for a long time and man I was going to stick to this itinerary no matter what. 

But Moses had the courage and the good sense to scan the horizon for what that forward movement might look like in new ways and to walk forward with the authority of God's command to move. 

Now Moses had never read Exodus and he had probably never heard of a sea parting...so it wasn't something he could even imagine...digging a hole to the center of the earth and out the other side probably seemed more doable than walking through the middle of a sea..."on dry ground" nonetheless....but God had a plan so new and different and spiritually practical that no one had even considered it.  

When Moses moves forward in the direction that makes the least sense humanly,  he discovers a path so perfect and one which makes absolute, scientific sense to one who trust that God is the only "I AM" impelling his desire to lovingly deliver his brothers and sisters from slavery.  He was someone who understood that when Love is seen as the supreme law governing the universe all the other laws of physics...gravity, molecular adhesion, cohesion and attraction...all subserve this law of Love.  God had already proven this to him when the bush burns but was not consumed...and he would prove it again and again as they made their way through the wilderness and toward a promised sense of home.  Their trust in God's care, in Love's supremacy and power would grow stronger and stronger with each proof. 

Mary Baker Eddy shares many observations about God's relationship to His universe that are critical to my view of this story...and how I am learning to trust His guidance and care...even when the way Love is leading me seems unimaginable, off-course or impassably difficult.   A few that have been my "rod" and "staff" this year are:

"Divine Love is our hope, strength, and shield. 
We have nothing to fear when Love is at the helm of thought,
but everything to enjoy on earth and in heaven."

and

  "The purpose and motive to live aright can be gained now. 
This point won, you have started as you should.
You have begun at the numeration-table of Christian Science,
and nothing but wrong intention can hinder your advancement. 
Working and praying with true motives,
your Father will open the way. 
"Who did hinder you, that ye should not obey the truth?"

and

"Love for God and man is the true incentive
in both healing and teaching. 
Love inspires, illumines, designates,
and leads the way. 
Right motives give pinions to thought,
and strength and freedom to speech and action."

I am continuing to learn that to put Love in charge of my life...to let Love and Love alone be my Captain, my Navigator, my GPS, my True North star....may take me Home by Another Way that may seem dark and cold and without many traveling companions, but it also may just part a tumultuous sea to reveal dry ground...take me through a barren wilderness that springs before me into a garden...and past a warm, full, bustling Inn to a simple manger in which I just may find an infant Christliness in the humble straw of my own heart.

Whether you are a leader of a nation, a few kings blindly following the requests of a misguided but cunning and ruthless sovereign, a high school senior looking for the right next chapter after graduation, or a parent on your knees searching for what is right for your family....you too can hear the voice of Love leading you forward...leading you on a path less traveled where you may just march to the beat of a different drummer, dance like nobody's watching, and above all...love like you'll never get hurt...with abandon...on the edge of a raging  sea...beyond the reaches of hatred, opinion and doubt.

Kate