"What would Love do..."

"It's nice to meet you.
No, I'm not from outer space
but I'd like to take you,
to a higher place,
where we won't ever have to leave the ground...
Just ask,
'What love would do now?'"

Heather shared this clip of Jason Mraz performing, "What Would Love Do Now?" the song he wrote for the film May I Be Frank.  In his introduction he shares,

"I try to be conscious of the food I put in me,
I need to be just as conscious of the thoughts I am putting in me."

Wow...if we ever thought we were the lone homesteaders on a new frontier...the uncharted territory of making the connection between what we think, our bodies, and how we live.   As well as the deeper spiritual impact this consideration has on our relationships, communities, the environment we share with all living things, and the global peace movement...are we ever wrong. 

I sense a collective nodding-of-the-head, so unanimous today, that it's beginning to feel like a single piece of divine choreography, perhaps the largest in history.  Men, women, and children from almost every culture, race, religion, and socio-economic segment of society saying: "yes, there is a connection." 

I feel it in the applause that Jason receives from the audience when he shares these thoughts, and the song that those thoughts gave birth to.

Young Christians have been asking the question, "What would Jesus do?" since I was a regular participant at Youth for Christ events in high school. Events that, on a number of occasions,  were co-sponsored by our local Adventure Unlimited chapter (regional activities for young Christian Scientists and their friends...these local chapters are now called Discovery Bound). 

Our high school's Youth for Christ group would get together for bowling, host dances, attend concerts, or go ice-skating on a frigid pond in the Poconos, and take turns warming up in an ice-fishing shed in front of a small wood stove. But no matter what the activity was, they all had one thing in common...conversations about living spiritually, and usually included that very question:  "What would Jesus do?"  There were those of us who attended the local Christian Science Sunday School together...mostly just my sister and I from our high school...and others who attended nearby Catholic, Congregational, Methodist, Baptist, and Presbyterian churches.  We did not have a Jewish temple or a mosque in our town, but I know...without a shadow of a doubt...that any teen interested in joining us, would have been welcome. 

We were a close-knit group of hippies, artists, and athletes, cheerleaders, bookworms, and yearbook editors.  We actually liked talking about living a God-centered life.  And at a time when Time magazine's cover question: "Is God Dead?" was still echoing through the chambers of human memory a decade later, we were asking ourselves, "what would a God-centered life look like?" 

I remember one particularly cold, icy Saturday in February.   We arrived at that icy pond in the Poconos, after a long drive up a dirt road in freezing rain.  We slid down a steep hill on our bottoms, only to brush ourselves off,  tie on skates and unpack thermoses of hot chocolate and a bag of donuts before getting completely soaked. There was an inch, or more, of water on top of the ice, but we were die-hards.  It didn't take long before the whole bunch of us was huddled in the ice shack like sardines, talking, laughing, eating, and finally deciding we should call it a day and head home. 

But in the few short hours we'd been there, the temperatures had dropped drastically and getting back up the hill was treacherous...at best. 

We encouraged...pushed and pulled...one another up the slippery incline, but by the time we got to the cars, there were a few injuries to contend with. 

I remember thinking, that although our friends all loved Jesus, my sister and I were the only ones...as Christian Scientists...who turned to pray for healing.  Boy, was I wrong.

Once we'd gotten everyone packed into the two station wagons Jim and Tom had borrowed from their parents, it wasn't long before the injured were being comforted with audible prayers, Bible verses, and I remember one friend...who attended the small Baptist church in town..singing the old gospel song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow."

It was a long, but love-filled, drive back down the mountain.  And by the time we reached Mary's house...where we continued our day in front of the television watching a movie, and eating popcorn...we were all happy, comfortable, and closer than ever.

That was day was just the first in a series of wake-up calls for me.  But it taught me how myopic I had been about the broader spiritual healing movement.  My friends were all expecting their prayers, Bible verses, and the singing of hymns to comfort, and heal, those who had been injured that day. 

I think of it whenever I read Mary Baker Eddy's statement in "Choose Ye" from The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany:

"A genuine Christian Scientist loves Protestant and Catholic, D.D. and M.D., - loves all who love God, good; and he loves his enemies. It will be found that, instead of opposing, such an individual subserves the interests of both medical faculty and Christianity, and they thrive together, learning that Mind-power is goodwill towards men. Thus unfolding the true metal in character, the iron in human nature rusts away; honesty and justice characterize the seeker and finder of Christian Science.

The pride of place or power is the prince of this world that hath nothing in Christ."

and elsewhere in the same volume:

"What we love determines what we are. I love the prosperity of Zion, be it promoted by Catholic, by Protestant, or by Christian Science, which anoints with Truth, opening the eyes of the blind and healing the sick...

It is of comparatively little importance what a man thinks or believes he knows; the good that a man does is the one thing needful and the sole proof of rightness."

My friends loved Jesus, they loved God, they loved the Scripture...from whatever translation they read it, they loved to pray, to question, to sing praise, to kneel in holy benediction.  They loved me...and we were brothers and sisters in Christ, in Spirit. 

I am so grateful to discover...more each day...that, as Eddy celebrates, in her Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896:

"We live in an age of Love's divine adventure to be All-in-all..."

to be living in fellowship, in holy congregation, in spiritual community with a heavenly host of spiritual thinkers who are cherishing God's Allness, in all of humanity, and asking some wonderful questions...like:

"What would Love do?"

aren't you?

thanks Heather for sharing this song, and for walking this question boldy...with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"Heaven when we're home..."

"..And something tells me
that there must be something
better than all this..."

I love listening to the Wailin' Jennys' "Heaven When We're Home,"* for all the obvious reasons...and then, for some reasons that may not be so nakedly clear. 

I've realized recently that, in the past, I've had a tendency towards dragging my baggage around searching for the perfect place to drop it.  But more often than I want to admit, the baggage I've been dragging around, close behind me, is not filled with the precious artifacts of a life well-lived...as I've always thought.  No, as much as I'd like to think I'm toting around time-softened antique quilts and hand-rubbed leather-bound first edition volumes of the classics, what I've really got in there is a mixture of metaphorical pulp fiction and a tattered old chenille bedspread stained with tears and ink. 

So what is this piece all about?  Not sure yet.  But, I think what I heard in my heart while listening to this song again this morning, were the first strains of a travelin' song...the kind of song that moves you forward when you are really just shuffling your feet.

It all started as I loaded my heavier-than-I'd-like carry on bag, and tote bag (filled with books, knitting, journal and, yes, a Chocolove's Sea Salt and Almonds in dark chocolate bar for the road) into the rental car after a wonderful weekend at camp.  A weekend teeming with over 250 teens and adult volunteers together for the Discovery Bound Leadership Conference gathered to explore the real qualities of a spiritual leader.  It was dark as I left in the wee small in between hours of a hushed crowd.   And I watched the soft violet dawning of a brand new day, as I headed east towards Denver International Airport.  Yup, just me and my baggage on a quiet drive through the Rockies, and across the Front Range.

After dropping off the rental car, I pulled the darned things into, and out of, the shuttle van, across the vast travertine of the main terminal, through the security checkpoints (at which time I unloaded little bits and pieces for scrutiny and re-packing), and down the concourse where I searched for a place to rest my weary head...and body...until it was time to board. 

I located a long row of seats that, thanks to my less than statuesque frame, would serve as a makeshift couch for napping (as long as I could twist myself into a pretzel-like shape...grateful for years of dance and yoga.)  Hmmm, I think, this is all looking quite promising, until I notice the luggage and totebag I've been dragging behind me. 

And, in light of the constant reminders about the heightened holiday travel security...warnings pouring through the airport's sound system...I realize that "leaving my baggage unattended" could result in untoward consequences.  So, I am pretty sure that falling asleep in front of your bags would be considered leaving them unattended.   In that case, I decide to put my suitcase on the seat next to me as a pillow of sorts...a very uncomfortable pillow I might add...and use my tote as something I can wrap my arms around like a child's teddy bear, and in this very uncomfortable position,  I try to rest. 

But I am resting on my baggage.  In fact, I am embracing my baggage.   I want to fall sleep on my baggage.  That's just one, too perfect, a metaphor!  But I can't.  At first I am pretty cranky about the situation.  And then, since I am clearly awake and not going to drift off into dreamland, I start to unpack the metaphor...with the help of the Jennys' song, now playing in my head. 

I realize that in order to stop dragging around my life's baggage, I have to leave it "unattended."  I have to unzip it, take out what is purposeful in helping others, and let the true source of my security, God, confiscate and destroy the rest. 

But to begin, I do have to leave it unattended. 

The word "attend" comes from the Latin root "attento" to wait for or expectation of, and is a cousin of the French "attendre" which means "to listen to, to pay attention, or give ear to."  Well, I have been attending to...paying attention to...my scuffed up baggage for way too long.  I've been dragging it around behind me, taking out little bits and pieces only long enough...and in small enough portions...to barely get me through to the next level of security clearance.  I am so focused on my journey...towards finding the "right" place to finally unpack it all and hang it on the walls of the next perfect home.  An imagined place where, I believe, what is my old junk, will somehow be transformed into the precious artifacts and antiques I imagine they could become...precious and worthy of hanging on to.  Ahh,  if only I could put them in the right setting.

But, a tattered and ink-stained bedspread will never be a hand-crafted quilt stitched together from vintage fabrics, once pieced together by a loving hand. And a dog-eared copy of hastily written pulp fiction, will never be a gold-leafed volume of love sonnets wrapped calfskin. 

Trying to rest on my old, carefully attended to baggage, has only given me a sore neck and made me want to get up and wander the concourse, looking for the next perfect place to try and rest again. 

I can't help but think of Mary Baker Eddy's "An Allegory" about a a traveler and his "baggage" which can be found in in her Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896 (starting on page 323).  I chuckle to think how often I have read this with book in one hand while dragging my baggage with the other.  Especially the part that reads:

"Despairing of gaining the summit, loaded as they are, they conclude to stop and lay down a few of the heavy weights, -- but only to take them up again, more than ever determined not to part with their baggage."

It is time for me to leave my baggage un-attended...period.  To first salvage all that is good and useful from within, to responsibly report it to security myself, to let Love confiscate its no-longer-useful contents, to trust that they will be properly discarded, and finally, with Love's blessings, to walk away unscathed, unfettered, unscarred, and unburdened by what I would never find the right setting for anyway.  Realizing then, and there, that I was already happily, gratefully, wonderfully at home...within.

"It's a long and rugged road,
and we don't now where it's headed,
but we know it's going to get us where we're going.
And when we find what we're looking for,
we'll drop these bags, and search no more,
'cause it's going to feel like heaven when we're home..."

So, these were the thoughts that kept me company...poking, probing, sometimes less-than-comfortable company in Terminal A this morning.  I will be unpacking these thoughts for a while I think. 

But tonight as I actually unpacked my suitcase and tote, I realized that I had not used even 80% of what I'd taken with me.  I'd spent four days dragging around "stuff" that had never been worn, read, written in, or used...and I'd had a most wonderfully purposeful and inspiring weekend.  Just sayin'....

Thanks Sam, for getting me to listen "Heaven When We're Home"...over and over again...I love that it makes me think...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

*I know that some of this song's lyrics may not be across-the-board consistent with what I believe to be true...but the core message of letting go and moving forward is giving me so much to think about...and I love that.

"I just showed up, for my own life..."

"I'm going to live my life inspired
Look for the holy in the common place
Open the windows and feel
all that's honest and real
Until I'm truly amazed

I'm going to feel all my emotions
I'm going to look you in the eyes
I'm going to listen and hear
Until it's finally clear
and it changes our lives

There are so many ways to hide
There are so many ways not to feel
There are so many ways to deny
what is real

And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in
and it sure looks bright...
Oh the glory of God is man fully alive..."
- Sara Groves

Yes, it is another Sara Groves' song.  And this one, "I just showed up for my own life," seems to say what is in my heart tonight...and it says it all so joyfully.

For the past year I have been trying to live out from this spiritual concept  -  just show up in the "how" of being, and see what God has planned.  Each day I try to make only one choice....to see God as All-in-all, the only truth and to ground myself in this space.  This standpoint allows me to say, "Yes!" to whatever opportunities present themselves as long as they fit within the focus of my larger spiritual purpose.  Which brings me to this weekend.  I was invited to support a spirituality-based teen activity...and I said, "Yes!"

I didn't know how it was going to turn out, or what it would feel like, but I knew it was the right thing to do.  I arrived on Friday afternoon and Sacramento was socked in with rain and fog.  But I wasn't there for sunshine, I was there to be present and available to whatever God was bringing into my life.  Walking out of the terminal I was greeted by the joyful Jen Dale.  Happy, vibrant, full of spiritual energy, and on purpose herself, she was a gift of girl friendship I didn't even realize I needed that day.

After a few errands (including a stop at the remarkable Dorado chocolates in adorable downtown Grass Valley) we headed up the mountain to meet our group at the Lodge we would be staying at.  Jen and I talked about God, spiritual healing, the common love we share for teens, and our hopes for the weekend and its intended purpose.  Within the first half hour we discovered  that our expected two hour drive, was going to be anything but. 

A blizzard-like storm blanketed Route 80 in heavy wet snow.  And before long, we were stopped absolutely still for two hours while an accident was cleared from the road ahead of is.  But we realized that even there, right in the middle of the highway,  we were on purpose.  And so was our weekend.   Whether we at the Lodge greeting teens or sitting in the car sharing our love for them and reveling in all the ways we shared a sense of purpose in reaching their hearts, we were having a Discovery Bound weekend.  And so were the teens who were traveling in cars with chaperones, parents, and fellow DB participants.  We weren't losing anything...time, opportunities, focus. 

We arrived at the Lodge happy, and spiritually well-prepared.  And so did each group of teens.  They were joyous, eager, and had already begun their weekend of connecting on a deeply spiritual level....one that was full of fellowship and purpose.

We had all been living our Discovery Bound purpose right where we were...in cars, in a blizzard, with eachother.  Without having even talked about the spiritual importance of "why" and "how," as the primary focus of our weekend, and ultimately, our lives (rather than being who, what, where, and when-driven) we had already begun walking the inspirational theme of our weekend.

So, here it is Sunday morning.  I am at Tahoe, sitting in the "upperchamber" of a Ski Lodge while about 30 of our Discovery Bound participants...staff, counselors, parents, and teens...ski, sled, snowboard, play games, and study all around me.  I've even gotten to play a few games of Bananagrams...so much fun!! Playing Bananagrams was like giving the child in me permission to play in the snow and giggle, while she put snow down the back her best friend's parka!! There is more than a few feet of deep powder blanketing each building, tree, and mountain in every direction I look, through the windows of the cavernous Lodge.   It is a winter sport wonderland...a magical white playground for people who like to ski. 

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a winter sports enthusiast.  I like to skate.  In fact, in high school, my sister and I were rather good on the little pond just below our carriage house.  I loved spending entire days skating...from one bonfire to another...on the Raritan River.   But skiing has never been high on my list of favorite activities.  There, I have said it.  I have voiced it publicly.  

That doesn't mean that I can't ski, or that I am afraid of skiing.  I actually know how to ski quite well.  I just don't love it.  And I figure, at the price of lift tickets these days, unless you absolutely love it, it is a phenomenal waste of one's resources...time, energy, the electricity it takes to run the lift, the $76 a day for a lift ticket... to really be wishing the whole time that you were inside the lodge sitting by a roaring fire with a new friend, a book, a journal, your knitting and a pen. But I digress... So why am I here? And if I don't really love to ski, how could this weekend be in line with my larger purpose.  That's easy...I love teens.  I love being with them.  Hearing them talk and laugh, question and discover.   I love walking this path with them as they explore their spiritual lives through extreme activities.  So, it was a perfect fit.   Even though it didn't seem like it earlier in the week. 

When Jen asked me if I would like to come be with them, as a Christian Science practitioner, for this ski weekend, I didn't hesitate.   Not even for a second.   It didn't matter to me that it was skiing, or that it would be bitterly cold and that I own neither snow boots, hat, or suitable clothing.  I would be on purpose no matter where I was or what was going on around me.  I would show up and watch carefully to see what God had in store for all of us.  And for me, that meant I would start where I always start...I'd study Scripture, pray, talk to kids, love them, and hopefully, let them know that no matter what they were going through, considering, or experiencing, I could assure them, with absolute confidence,  "you are not alone...God is with you."  I know because I've experienced His care, guidance, and the transformative power of His love to heal, on countless occasions in my own life..

For me, it didn't matter where I was, or what the weather report was screaming at me, about my capacity to have fun.  I could have just as easily be sitting on the porch of Crowsnest at camp.  It could have been a beautiful summer day in the Rockies...hummingbirds darting and hovering, the brooklet babbling, teens in bathing suits and board shorts playing frisbee on the lawn of Valerie Lodge...I am me, I am doing what I do and I LOVE it.

I think this is the reason why I have never taken a vacation or gone on holiday since I began this work.  I love it.  It has nothing to do with a self-inflated, false sense of responsibility.  I am not a martyr denying myself happiness and joy.  I am someone who loves what she does and doesn't really want to do anything else.  I love taking my work wherever I go.  I love taking calls and being available anytime day or night.  I love being on a South African beach and having my cell phone ring and find that I am as ready for a call there, as I would be in my office.   I love this work.  And I just know that each of my colleagues, fellow Christian Science practitioners...spiritual healers...must feel just the same.  For me, spiritual healing is all about how we think, live, speak, and engage with others...not who we know, where we live, what we drive, or when we get up or go to bed.  I think it's why we make ourselves available, and and, for me, it's all about how...how, how, how.... 

I love the focus on "how" in Mary Baker Eddy's poem "Feed My Sheep":

"Shepherd show me how to go
O'er the hillside steep
How to gather
How to sow
How to feed Thy sheep..."

She doesn't ask God to show her who to go with, when to leave, what to take, or where the destination is...but how.  For me, this "how" is defined by Eddy's definition of "Moral." in her how-to book for the spiritual thinker and healer:

"MORAL.  Humanity, honesty, affection, compassion,
hope, faith, meekness, temperance."

It takes courage, but when we put treating eachother humanely, speaking our hearts honestly, sharing our affection wisely and generously, seeing ourselves, and others, through the lens of true compassion, approaching each moment filled with hope, trusting in the inherent goodness of others because we have faith in God as the only Cause and Creator, forgiving from the space of meekness, and acting temperately as we experience God's blessings, first...we are on such holy...happy...ground.

One of the boys just came up to the table where I am working and asked me if I was going to come out into the snow with them.  I could see that he was worried that I wasn't having the fun he imagined I would be having, if only I didn't have to work.  I turned to him with a big smile and said, I am having so much fun watching you, and praying, and talking to your friends, taking calls and writing that I will be perfectly happy right here.  

But I could see he might still be feeling sorry for me.  So I explained to him that I REALLY love what I do as much as he loves snowboarding.  It is exciting, refreshing, joyful work for me.  I told him that I have never wanted a day off in over twenty-five years because every second is such fun.  I ended with, "I love you and your friends.  I'm here, that's more than enough happiness and fun for me."  His jaw dropped, then I could see that he got it.  He leaned over and hugged me, tightened his boots, turned towards the stairs leading to the deck where his snowboard was waiting, and called over his shoulder, "Have fun!!"

I am.   When I keep the "how" of living, thinking, speaking, and behaving in the forefront of thought...I am sure to have a wonderful time...always. Perhaps next winter, having a wonderful time will include an awakened love for skiing!! 


Okay, I am back in St. Louis now and as I look back on my trip I am overwhelmed with gratitude. This past weekend, I had a truly wonderful time. Thank you Jen, Forrest, Johanna, Allison, Mark, Jacob, Nate, Jenny..and all my new Northern California Discovery Bound friends...you taught me so many new lessons about living in the "how"... and on purpose.

with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

and thanks to the Dale family...Bill, Wyatt, Ari, and Bill Sr....for your warm hospitality.  And Bill, your photo is perfect!!

group photo by Nate Lillge 2010

"She loved me like a rock..."

"When I was a little boy
And the Devil would call my name
I'd say "Now who do,
Who do you think you're fooling?"
I'm a consecrated boy
I'm a singer in a Sunday choir

Oh my mama loves me, she loves me
She get down on her knees and hug me
She loves me like a rock
She rocks me like the rock of ages
And loves me
She love me, love me, love me, love me..."
- Paul Simon

Okay, it may seem like a stretch, but this afternoon while driving to an appointment, I turned on the radio and Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like a Rock" started playing.  Immediately I found myself thinking about Jesus and his mother. 

She loved him. Oh, she loved him.  She got down on her knees, and hugged him.  It made me cry.

Last weekend I met some moms and dads who love their teens...deeply.  They'd volunteered for a conference focused on nurturing the spiritual lives of teen thought-leaders.  These moms, dads, and adult mentors gathered on a college campus in the heartland to celebrate spiritual leadership and its  promise of peace, health, and collective prosperity in an ever-expanding global community.  It wasn't hard to see how much they loved them.   I could imagine each one of those teens...with an adoring adult on his/her knees hugging them, loving them, believing in their gifts, celebrating the remarkable thinkers they are...knowing that they can accomplish all good, because they are all good. 

I could see each of these adults at the wedding in Cana encouraging a young healer's friends to have faith that the water would become wine.  I could imagine each of these precious parents, adult friends and mentors as silent invisible "women" ministering unto their teen's mission and purpose with prayers, and hymns, and spiritual songs all along a dusty road...sometimes steep, often winding, rocky, and rugged.  I could hear their calls of encouragement, their whispered prayers for protection and guidance.  It wasn't hard to see Jesus' mother encouraging each adult to not lose sight of the vision, to remember what they'ev always known...God is with them...the kingdom of heaven is within every child.

As I drove home from the conference my route took me from the meandering beauty of the River Road ...sailboats gliding lazily, water skiiers laughing as they sliced through the water leaving a wake behind them...to the heart of our city's streets - miles of concrete, hot with Labor Day's humidity and humanity.  The "get down on her knees and hug me" kind of love for teens wasn't as easy to see, but it was palpably there in urban neighborhoods.  Moms, aunts and grandmas sat on cement stoops braiding hair, drinking sweet tea, and encouraging their sons, daughters, and neighbors to "be safe", help one another, and do something good for someone else.   Dads, uncles and grandpas grilled, washed cars, mowed lawns and by example taught their children that family matters, your neighbors deserve your respect, and your word is your pledge.  I've lived in this neighborhood, these were my neighbors, their children were, and are, dear to me. 

As we get down on our knees and hug our children...of all ages...this week, sending them off to school for the first day of sixth grade...or grad school, I pray we see the world as a place full of children with hopes and dreams...and parents who dream with them in kabbutzes, villages, and cities...in burkas, suits, or sarongs.   As we recall our own first dreams for our children's future, their first hopes to become president, physicist, inventor, fireman, or mom...I pray we can stretch our mental arms even further until they reach around all the children of the world...of all ages.  Just like our Father-Mother God who asked a unwed teenage mother over 2,000 years ago to believe an angel, walk with dignity, trust a promise, and never lose sight of a grand vision for His child.

I hope you have a wonder-filled weekend and that we can all find a moment to get down on our knees and hug a child's dream...any...and every...child's dream.  It's never too late to love them, love them, love them...

with Love,
Kate