"a golden second marriage…"

"I want a moment of silence,
and a moment of prayer,
for the love we'll need to make it
in the world out there..."

I know that I have used Don Henley's, "For My Wedding," before to illustrate a sentiment. But today, it leapt into my heart as a song of gratitude.

You see, my dear friend Barbye posted a status update on Facebook that read: "On my way to help my dad and stepmom celebrate their golden anniversary." It took me apart.  And since my friend mentioned that it was her stepmom -- it was obviously a second marriage for her dad.  It touched me deeply, and I found myself weeping with joy for them.

I remember, not long ago, sharing with an acquaintance that my husband and I would be celebrating our anniversary. I was so grateful for all the ways we'd navigated unaddressed issues, grown in grace, and worked together as a couple -- and as partners with my former spouse and his wife -- in parenting our children. But the response I got was heart-breaking. She said, "Well really Kate,  it isn't your first marriage, so I don't think it matters if you are together for seven years, or twenty-five years -- you've already failed."

I was stunned into silence. Truly. I didn't have a single thing to say.  And she'd said it so matter-of-factly, that it was clear to me that it held no malice. It was not her intent to be hurtful. But it was, never-the-less, hard to hear.

We went on with our meeting, and when I was finally seated behind the wheel of my car, I lost it. I let my head fall into my hands, and wept long and hard. Not just for myself and our marriage, but for all the couples who have given themselves another chance at loving unconditionally, sharing selflessly, and hoping for "forever," even in the face of a disappointing sense of loss.

Every second - or third - marriage is a tribute to the power of hope over experience. And to hear that my friend's dad and stepmom were celebrating their 50th anniversary, was an unexpected gift today. I wanted to stand on a mountaintop and sing a song of grateful praise.

I don't believe that any couple goes into their marriage with a "plan B." We all hope and pray that we will not fall. We pray that we have what it takes to endure, to find solutions to our problems, to feel grace coursing through our days together. As Talmudic scholar, Rabbi Itzak, once wrote, "When any marriage ends, even the altar weeps."

But, I believe, that when we have the courage - and hope - that it takes to try again, "even the altar kneels…" in holy wonder and benediction.

In her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy offers this blessing:

"May Christ, Truth,
be present at every bridal altar
to turn the water into wine
and to give to human life
an inspiration by which
man's spiritual, eternal existence
may be discerned."
 

Christ, Truth, present at every bridal altar. First marriages, second marriages -- all marriages. Because marriage is a triumph of hope. And, as poet Emily Dickinson so beautiful writes:

"Hope is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune,
without the words,
and never stops - at all…"
 

So, bless you Barbye's parents. Bless your marriage, and your example of enduring love.  Bless your family gathered to celebrate you, and bless your willingness to allow hope to triumph -- 50 years ago, and every day since.

Every marriage is a blessing. Every moment we spend in the laboratory of persistent, cooperative loving is a triumph of selflessness over self-interest. Every day is a gift of grace. First marriages, second marriages, eighth marriages. A first anniversary or a fiftieth -- each is a triumph, worthy of celebration.

As Don Henley so humbly sings, this is my prayer:

"To want what I have
And take what I am given, with grace.
For this I pray…" 

On my wedding day, on your wedding day, and at each anniversary - let's celebrate each other's triumphs of hope and love.

So grateful,



Kate

"There's a hole in the world tonight..."

"There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a Cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.

They say that anger is just love disappointed.
They say that love is just a state of mind,
but all this fighting over who will be anointed.
Oh how can people be so blind
.
Oh they tell me there's a place over yonder,
cool water running through the burning sand,
until we we learn to love one
another we never reach the promise land.

There's a hole in the world tonight.
There's a Cloud of fear and sorrow.
There's a hole in the world tonight.
Don't let there be a hole in the world tomorrow."
-     Don Henley

Watching news clips about renewed fighting in the Gaza, listening to stories on NPR about rioting in Oakland over the shooting of a young father by BART (Bay Area public transit)officers on New Years Day or heated exchanges between Indian and Pakistani leaders about the terrorist attacks in Mumbai this winter drove me to my knees in prayer.

But this song is what came as an angel...a message of hope...and a call to action.   Don Henley wrote it with his fellow Eagles bandmates in the wake of September 11, 2001, but its message, from the first time I heard it, was hauntingly familiar.

I couldn't help but recall inflamed moments of anger that have led to words that were ugly and harsh.  But in remembering my own past angers, I could easily see that in almost every case my anger was just "love disappointed."  I was disappointed that someone I loved didn't love me back in the way that I hope they would, didn't understand my point of view, didn't seem to care about the things that mattered to me...didn't think I had the right to think or act in the way that I felt was right at the moment.

And the anger that we feel by committee, or community, seems to follow this track towards a fiery collision as well.  A community is disappointed that an appointed, or elected, leader or social agency doesn't really understand its needs.  A culture is disappointed that its neighbors aren't more understanding of its unique contribution to society or doesn't comply with a values system it feels is essential to humanity's success.  A religion is disappointed that others don't love the way they love, ascribe to a philosophy they feel is critical to salvation...or don't love the words or works of a leader in whose footsteps they strive to follow.

I remember one heated exchange I had with my younger sister when we were in high school.  She had an event that she wanted to attend, and I had a few hours before I needed to be at work.  She asked if I would wash the dishes after dinner (her chore) and she would dry (my chore) since her event was early and my departure for work was later.  I agreed, telling her that she really really really needed to be home before I had to leave for work. We both knew dad's rule that our kitchen chores be done before our evening commitments so that mom could take care of other family needs, like feeding infant twins, without negotiating the piles of dirty dishes, pots and pans created each meal by a family of ten.  She agreed.

But her activity went late and by the time she returned home I had dried the dishes myself and left for work.  I stewed and steamed all through my shift until I was ready to explode.  How could she be my sister and not love me enough to be home on time?  How could she do that to me when I had scrubbed all those greasy pans and potato-caked pots...instead of just drying already clean dishes...so that she could do what she wanted?  And on and on it went.  By the time I reached our darkened bedroom after work I had A LOT to say to her.  Thankfully my mom, on her way from the warmth of her bed to the kitchen to get bottles for one of the twins, intercepted me and could read the fury on my face.

I remember her inviting me to join her in the kitchen for a cup of tea and her invitation didn't leave any room for an obedient daughter who loved her mother to dismiss.  As we sat at the kitchen table my tale of anger and frustration spilled out like dark, sticky molasses all over the place.  How could she....and on and on.  When my sharp words finally started to sputter, mom stepped in.  I will never forget her saying, "Honey, you're not angry with your sister, your just disappointed that she didn't love you enough to keep her promise to you." 

She was right.

The next day she facilitated a conversation between my sister and I.  She learned how much I counted on her love for me as the reason I thought she would want to keep her promises to me,  and that I loved and trusted her enough to want her to have a nice evening out at the expense of my job security.  I learned that she had tried to get a ride home from a friend before the event was over, but couldn't find anyone willing to leave and didn't have a dime to make a phone call.  Our conflict was over and neither of us felt disappointed by the others actions.

I know this seems like a small instance in light of the enormity of nuclear proliferation, rioting, torture, or terrorism, but I am convinced that anger is just love disappointed.   The disappointment may go WAY back...but it's there and sometimes the rest of us are just acting out from a handed down disappointment where we have lost sight of what was at its root.

So...what can we do today?  I am learning that I can be so alert to anger, whenever and wherever it flares, and be ready to pour in the love that God has appointed me to live right where I am.  I can seek to understand what someone -- or some culture or religion or community -- loves and why.  I can strive to judge no one, but when judgment rears its ugly head -- in me or in someone else -- I can try to bring information, compassion, understanding to bear on the situation or issues in question.

Mary Baker Eddy gives me a great place to start in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures when she says:

"One infinite God, good, unifies men and nations; constitutes the brotherhood of man; ends wars; fulfils the Scripture, "Love thy neighbor as thyself;" annihilates pagan and Christian idolatry, - whatever is wrong in social, civil, criminal, political, and religious codes; equalizes the sexes; annuls the curse on man, and leaves nothing that can sin, suffer, be punished or destroyed."

Imagine where we'd be if we trusted that good was the name and nature of everyone's God,  and that this God of goodness was infinite.    What if we didn't question one another but trusted that each was appointed to his place and posture of spiritual fidelity, cultural worship, and social mores by one infinite God who was good? What if we loved them for their willingness to just be true to their God whose name is Love...or good...or Allah...or Jehovah?

Perhaps then we wouldn't be fighting over the promised land...because every land, nation, culture, tribe would have promise, and would keep its promises because it feels loved...even if its just by you and me.

So what do we do about this world that seems so full of holes?  I want to fill them all with love. Thank goodness God has another way of looking at it...they are just the spaces He has hollowed (or hallowed) out for receiving our seeds of kindness, compassion, patience, meekness, grace, and love.  Time for planting...the fields are prepared, the seeds are in your hand...

with Love,
Kate

"The heart of the matter...forgiveness"

"I've been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thought seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness..
Even if, even if..."
- Don Henley

Last night at church a number of people shared their thoughts about forgiveness. This is a subject that resonates very deeply with me. It's something I have wrestled with, extended, held back, felt, and longed for throughout my life. It is also a subject that I hunger to better understand. It seems so critical to healing. It has much deeper significance than just letting go of the past and its hurts...self-imposed or at the hand of others. Real forgiveness reaches beneath the surface of "who did what to whom and who deserves to be forgiven" to a place of self-surrender that isn't as easy as it sounds...or should be.

I could hardly get through last night's service without dropping my head in my hands and weeping. As I sat there barely moving with my eyes closed and hands folded....any movement would have dislodged the tears...I thought my sadness was about all the ways in which I longed to be forgiven for mistakes, mis-steps, thoughtlessness or fear-based decisions I held myself responsible for. As soon as the last note of the last hymn had been sung, I slipped out of my seat and through the door of our urban storefront gathering place rushing to my Jeep before the huge tears that had been pooling just behind closed lids began to fall. Once behind the wheel in my steel "closet" I let go and drove through a veil of tears on cloudless Spring night. As I prayed for some clarity about what I was feeling, I suddenly realized I wasn't actually hoping for forgiveness from someone...anyone...really. I was longing for a way to forgive myself.

I suddenly saw that no one holds us more accountable for past mistakes and hurts than we hold ourselves. If we have injured someone else we can say we are sorry and hope that they accept those genuine apologies, but we will never really know what is happening in their heart...that's God's province and it is a very private matter between the Father and His child. The real work for us is in forgiving ourselves.

A number of years ago I couldn't seem to function because I felt so wounded by someone else's choices. I was caught in a labyrinth of blame, anger, and hurt. I was a wounded creature limping through a maze of self-certainty that, "I didn't deserve what had been done to me" at the same time I held a vise-like grip on my right to withhold or bestow forgiveness. I couldn't put my hurt down and therefore didn't have the freedom to grasp what would lead me out of my own prison...all the while licking my wounds and snarling at everyone who approached trying to help. I finally got hungry enough to stop and beg for food. A friend tossed me a bone. She asked a simple question, "What did Jesus have to say about forgiveness from the cross?"

Well, I knew this story really, really well. It came out of my mouth without thinking, but on it's way out it must have passed through that cold region of my heart and started the sudden thaw that commenced. "Father, forgive them..." That was all I needed. By the third word I got it. Jesus didn't say "Father help me forgive them," or "Father what did I do wrong that I let them down as a Messiah and now I'm here...did I not pray enough or use the right words...please help them forgive me." No. He put the act of forgiveness where it belongs, between the individual and the Father.

In all actuality this is the only place it really can be accomplished. Any wrong done to another, or by another, needs to be seen for what it is, a fear that God is absent. What ensues is a reaction to that fear. When we steal, lie, cheat, say mean things, spread gossip or slander, judge another or show disrespect we are just afraid that God is not present to care for our needs, acknowledge our goodness, right a wrong, correct a mistake, or dispense justice. The offense may feel like it is directed at a person...often at us, or more sadly, by us...but it is really a statement about how we view God and whether we trust His government and care in our own lives and in the lives of others. When we realize this we can put the forgiving where it belongs...in His court of Fatherly love and wisdom. As an expression of genuine humility we can always apologize for our mistakes made, and as an expression of meekness, we can accept another's apologies as a gift of grace. But the real act of soul-penetrating forgiveness happens in the secret sanctuary of the heart...that place that is occupied only by the Father and his child.

But what, you may ask, about that hunger for self-forgiveness that made me weep alligator tears. Well, I am trusting that my Father knows my heart and I am putting even that desire for self-forgiveness completely in His hands. My job is to love and serve Him through my love towards, and service to, others...every second of every day. Moments spent is self-flagellating guilt, remorse and regret are not a good use of the resources He has entrusted me with...intelligence, affection, faith, hope, compassion, grace, kindness and joy. Guilt, remorse, self-hatred and regret will never "feed the hungry, heal the heart." They do nothing to honor His presence in my life and they are a waste of His generous gifts of Love.

The Lord's Prayer says, "Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors." This statement took on new meaning for me last night. As I drove past the park, filled with children playing, redbuds in bloom, dogs running and disporting themselves on suspecting couples walking hand in hand, and the early blossoming of daffodils, magnolia and tulips, I realized that I wasn't applying the same approach to my own need for self-forgiveness that had become quite natural to me in thinking of others. I wasn't saying within my heart...about my own deeply regretted mistakes..."Father, forgive her..." and leaving it all in His care. Leaving it between a Father and His beloved daughter. Trusting Him to watch over her heart, her future choices, her words and her works with a Father's devoted attention and love.

His grateful daughter,
Kate

A prayer for your wedding....

"May Christ, Truth, be present at every bridal altar
to turn the water into wine and to give to
human life an inspiration by which man's spiritual
and eternal existence may be discerned.
- Mary Baker Eddy

Someone I care for dearly is being married this weekend.  This has inspired me to revisit the above statement from the Chapter "Marriage" in Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, and ponder its message, not only in reference to their marriage, but to all marriages -- including my own.

At a time when reality television offers us a peek into the best and the worst of weddings -- through programming as sweet as TLC's A Wedding Story, to the most uncharitable kind of voyeurism through the lens of Lifetime's Bridezilla -- this statement provides a spiritual grounding that brings me peace as I ponder this step for any couple.

Eddy's prayer - and I like to think of this statement as a prayer - asks that Christ be present at every bridal altar.  From simple vows taken and given in a silent chapel, to the elaborate drama of a hollywood gala with helicopters circling.  From one performed in the dust of an African village, to one officiated in a Scottish castle.  From a first marriage with the bride and groom having dated only each other - since middle school, to the fourth marriage of an octogenarian who met her beloved while in a wheelchair aerobics class.  

Each and every bridal altar deserves the benediction of Christ, Truth.  Each bridal altar is an opportunity for Christ to be present --  turning the water into wine.  Turning the purity of new love - which has refreshed hope and cleansed the palate of the past -  into a laboratory for enriching and un-selfing our better selves.  New opportunities to live with another - in communion and cooperation - as husband and wife.   

This week, I have been thinking about what makes every bridal altar so deserving of this prayer.  And my prayer have led me to one word -- hope.   It takes remarkable hope to approach the bridal altar -- at any stage in one's life.  Hope that self can be subdued by love.  Hope that grace will reign in our hearts and  homes.   Hope that our lives will be an inspiration of hope to others who may feel gun-shy or weary.  Those who may have given up on their dreams,  or are protecting tender hearts from another hurt. 

So today, I am celebrating hope.  Not only with this dear couple, but with their  children who hope that their parents have found their "one true love." -- again.   I am celebrating with parents who are hoping and praying that their sons and daughters will be cherished and supported in their dreams and desires.  I am celebrating with the friends and families who hope that their loved ones will be "in love" forever and ever, amen" as Randy Travis sings.

One of my favorite lyricists, Don Henley, sings his prayer in, "For My Wedding,"  It's a song that he wrote for his own marriage.  This song speaks to the hope I pray we all bring to the altar -- as brides, grooms, attendants, officiants, guests, parents, friends, and the children of couples who have found fresh hope.  it has been my prayer -- each day since the first time I heard it on the radio a few years ago:

To want what I have
To take what I'm given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day

For my wedding, I don't want violins
Or sentimental songs about thick and thin
I want a moment of silence and a moment of prayer
For the love we'll need to make it in the world out there

To want what I have
To take what I'm given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day

I dream, and my dreams are all glory and light
That's what I've wanted for my life
And if it hasn't always been that way
Well, I can dream and I can pray
On my wedding day

So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray we're the lucky ones; I pray we never fall

To want what we have
To take what we're given with grace
For these things I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day

 

Dearest ones -- on your wedding day, when you are making a "sanctuary of your heart,"  I pray you are blessed with many things -- great love, profound kindness, deep faith, persistent patience, abiding tenderness, laughter -- but most of all -- hope.

Recently someone share this definition of "hope" with me: 

"to trust an unknown future to a known God"

For this I pray -- on your wedding day.

with all my love,

K