"I'm gonna watch you shine..."

"I'm gonna watch you shine.
Gonna watch you grow.
Gonna paint a sign,
so you'll always know...
As long as one and one is two,
there could never be a father
who loved his daughter
more than I love you...."
- Paul Simon

Songs like this one -- Paul Simon's, "Father and Daughter" -- songs that you might hear at wedding receptions, during daddy-daughter dances...used to make me ache for a dad of my own.  Someone who would walk me down the aisle, someone I could turn to for advice about cars, and electricity, and how to build a picket fence all by myself.   Someone who would stand up for me against the tyranny of a bully, the bullying of a gossip...someone who believed that I deserved better than my even own hopes and dreams would allow.

I didn't have this.  I watched girlfriends get married and waltz across a parquet floor on the arms of their dads, I listened to brides describe their wedding dresses to doting fathers, I longed to be the fallen toddler on a playground, scooped up into the arms of her protective papa.  

But an afternoon in later winter some years ago, started  a seismic shift in my heart... from one of longing, to one of contentment. 

I was standing outside the large auditorium where our church headquarters...The Mother Church...had hosted an all employees meeting about fiscal integrity, wisdom in economy, and thoughtful spending.   I was feeling deeply grateful to one particular member of our governing Board for expressing such clear "fatherhood," when that same dear  man breezed through the doors, into the soft dusky light of a February afternoon, like a zephyr. 

Seeing me standing out of the wind, in a concrete alcove, he stopped to say hello.  I thanked him for his wise counsel during the meeting and mentioned that I'd been touched by the example of fatherhood he'd given that afternoon. 

He turned to a Bible verse that was engraved in the concrete above my head, it read:

"Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father,
and attend to know understanding."

He reminded me that it, the Word of God, had been there all along, every moment, of every day, in my life.  It had never been inaccessible or unreachable.  It had defended my integrity, defined my place in the world, comforted and supported me.  This man, himself, was a loving father, but you could see that he deeply depended on this truth in the way he trustingly parented his own children.  And in that moment, I could feel that I was no different.  He was giving me the same gift he would have given them.   There was such impersonal, but deeply loving tenderness in his care, and counsel. 

From that day forward, I dove headlong into the Scriptures whenever I felt clingy in my relationships, or neglected by the circumstances that had left me without a dad.  When I felt far away from my mom, without a friend, fearful for my children, or uncertain about the future in my most significant relationships.  I searched the Scriptures, because I knew that it was a reliable place, for me, to find the spiritual substance of my relationships...with my father, my husband, my sisters, my brothers, my friends, my neighbors.

Poetry is my native tongue, the language of my heart...So, here is how my heart boiled down this truth:


"Why don't
you hate him?
she asked
brows furrowed in
a mixture of
consternation and
disbelief.

"You really should
hate him, you know...

no little
girl,  as sweet as
you were,
should be
left...and forgotten...
like that

especially by
someone
she
loved
and trusted.

You really have
every right
to hate
him. 

"But I don't.
I say with
a new
born
innocency

I don't have that
space
left in me
anymore

The space that
was once carved out
by violated trust,
loneliness,
despair,
darkness,
and
confusion.

It is full
again

it is full of
me.

And I am innocent.

I am not
empty...at all.

I am complete...
there is nothing missing,
there is no one missing...

I am
wholly whole,
fully content,
deeply loved,
completely adored,
inviolately free.

and I know it.

"No," I say,
"I don't hate him,
I love him..."

I love him,
because,
it is
who
I
am.

there is a place
beyond
forgiveness...

I think
I will
stay
here....

It will be
my
home

it is
where my
real
Father
lives.

Our children have all been blessed with extraordinary dads...kind, gentle, attentive, selflesh, supportive men who will dance with their daughters...and perhaps even our son...at their weddings.  But it is the sense of God as their Father, that these men have given most generously as gifts, to each of our children, that will make the biggest difference in their lives.  Thank you...

offered with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"Like a bridge over troubled waters..."

"When you're weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes,
I will dry them all;
I'm on your side. when times get rough
And friends just can't be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down..."
- Paul Simon

Saturday morning I witnessed a moment of love and courage that took my breath away...again.  Camp is full of those moments, and this summer is no different.   Moments when someone lays there own self-interest down to become a "bridge over troubled waters" for a camper, a friend...a cousin.

Saturday was Sunday for Sky Valley campers (the 3rd through 8th graders whose schedule accommodated Sunday School on Saturday this session).  Part of the Sunday tradition is an early morning 5K (or 3.1 mile) run through the South Woods.  Our daughters, Emma and Clara, along with their cousins and friends, love to participate in this opportunity to run through the woods, around the Round Up corral, down the road that bisects the high school level part of camp, and through a gaunlet of cheering high-schoolers on their way back down to Sky Valley.

I love it because it is a mid-camp opportunity to see the girls and to cheer on my nieces and my daughters' friends.  Clara came through the gaunlet with her friend, Cecily, smiling and strong.  I asked her where Emma was, and she indicated that her sister was somewhere behind her, so I stayed put waiting for her to come down the road.  When I caught a glimpse of her running along side her cousin, Tatiana, I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

She avoided running through the bridge of raised arms...teens whooping and hollering...and ran straight towards me.  She collapsed into my arms in tears.  Tati stood next to us, rubbing her back and assuring her that she would be fine.  I walked her to the porch of my cabin and Tati followed, nursing her heart as we went.  In the midst of her tears she encouraged Tati to return to the race, telling her she would be okay. 

Then her tears really started to flow.  When her sobbing quieted a bit she told me that she wasn't crying because of the painful blisters that had screamed at her through the race, the cramps in her side that had taken her breath away in the middle of the woods, or the upset feeling in her tummy that made her want to lie down.  No, she was weeping because she was so amazed and grateful that her cousin had given up the possibility of winning the race to stay with her all along the trail.

This meant so much to Emma.  Perhaps it is because Emma loves to win races.  She is fast and she likes to compete.  The thought that her cousin would slow her pace to little more than a walk to care for her was heart-breakingly remarkable...and healing...to her. With a much-appreciated ride from a loving bunkhouse mom, Emma returned to Sky Valley already feeling much better.

While we waited for her to be picked up at my cabin, I explained to Emma that her cousin had won more than a race that day.  She had won the respect of everyone who knew what she had done.  She had won the love and admiration of her cousin, her aunt, and anyone who had discerned her sacrifice.  She had won a battle with the ego that always wants us to care more about self-interest than others.

Tati was my hero that morning.  She taught my daughter a lesson more important than how to win a foot race.  She taught her the true meaning of courage.  The root of the word "courage" is the Latin "couer" or heart.  Whenever we let our hearts speak more loudly to us than the voice of self-interest or personal accomplishment, we are at our most courageous best. 

"...When you're down and out,
When you're on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I'll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silver girl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind."

Thank you Tati, I love you...
Aunt Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Lila June Jones...Tati's mommy]

Fifty ways....or just one: "Get thee behind me..."

"The problem is all inside your head, she said to me
The answer is easy if you take it logically
I'd like to help you in your struggle to be free
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover

She said it's really not my habit to intrude
Furthermore, I hope my meaning won't be lost or misconstrued
But Ill repeat myself at the risk of being crude
There must be fifty ways to leave your lover
Fifty ways to leave your lover

Just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free..."
- Paul Simon

Okay, so this is a bit of a stretch, but "50 Ways to Leave your Lover" (I found myself replacing the word "lover" with "tempter") really was the first thing that came to thought when I read this email from a dearly loved friend (shared with permission, in hopes that, "if it helps even one person from feeling that way then it is totally worth it")  :

Kate,
My spouse has some prescription pills. Sometimes I open the container and think about taking them. I checked on the internet and the amount that is there is enough to apparently be lethal. There is one part of me that thinks I should take them and it promises me peace and happiness. Meanwhile there is another part that argues that I should not because ---- As I thought about it again today my students' faces flashed through my head. I can only imagine how they would feel, it would be awful. The unknown of what is beyond this place scares me, but staying here is also a bit overwhelming at times. I am only telling you all of this because I just don't think I should be contemplating death, my death. I just feel so unsatisfied.  Sometimes, I just want to wander away into the wilderness and never come back.

My friend's hope is that by sharing her email, through this post, it will "help even one person from feeling this way." And it is this hope that has encouraged me...just this once...to share someone else's cry for fellowship in Christ. With her urging and permission.

That said, this email reminded me of my own struggle with depression some years ago and those hideous, relentless suggestions that suicide could be the answer to all of my problems.   I remember feeling battered from within by a voice that sounded like my own (in my head) and used words to poke and prod, kick and hammer at my peace. 
 
My own freedom came with a persistent effort to follow Jesus' leadings in dealing with these kinds of thoughts.  But I am getting ahead of his story...and mine.

I was feeling so sad and helpless.  How could I be living on my knees in constant prayer...for myself, my family, friends, our community, the world... and still be facing the demons of hopelessness and self-destruction.

But somehow each morning I woke with hope that "today would be different...perhaps today my prayers would help me find my way out of the darkness.  One afternoon, while studying scripture, I found myself walking with Jesus toward John the Baptist by the river Jordan.  He is just about to experience the greatest moment in a young spiritual thinker's life...right?  John baptizes him, he comes up out of the water, the Spirit descends on him like a dove and a voice comes out of heaven saying, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."

Does it get any better than this for a young man starting out on a healing ministry? 

Since this is where I'd always assumed this particular story ends, with the end of the third chapter of Matthew, I had never really connected it to the very next sentence.  But this time I was in the process of reading the Bible like a book so I just kept reading, and that next sentence stopped me in my tracks.  "Then was Jesus led of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil...."  "Then", a word that means "following, right after, the very next thing".  Wow!

Now, I've written about this story before in the post, "Jesus the Carpenter", but not from this perspective of how it helped me find freedom and dominion.  You see, I had always thought that my struggle with depression and self-destructive behavior was an indication of my failure as a spiritual thinker.  But for the first time, while reading this story in the Bible,  I realized that it was "the Spirit", God, who led Jesus into the wilderness right on the heels of his anointing.  His wrestling with the temptations in the wilderness did not point towards his failure, but was the opportunity for him to exercise his newly realized authority as God's beloved son...a prince...a sovereign.

And in his forty day evolution as a spiritual commander-in-chief, the Prince of Peace, Governor, Counselor, he begins by reasoning with the voices...arguing his case, invoking divine law. Until finally he sees that the only reasonable response, in light of his divine commission is, "Get thee behind me, Satan."  The voice was body-less, it had no way to carry out its own plan.  It had no hands...it couldn't push Jesus off the pinnacle, it couldn't pull him off, it couldn't shake the pinnacle and send him flying off into the void.  All it could do was try to convince him to throw himself off.  

Now I don't know anyone who has ever read this story and thought that there was another "entity" out there in the desert with him.  The temptations...the suggestions...were from within.  Jesus' first step towards dominion was to see that the demon voice suggesting he destroy himself was not his own thinking.  Once he does this, he can speak to the voice with the dominion that came along with knowing that he was God's son...his beloved son.

At this point he no longer entertains the voice.  He no longer worries that this disembodied voice could in anyway speak with authority, or prove a threat to his life, identity, or mission, and he speaks to it with confidence and courage..."get thee behind me, Satan"

This story was the beginning of my dominion too.  I stopped thinking I was a failure because these suggestions/temptations were insinuating themselves as my thinking.  I started feeling the trust of my Father.  He was sending me into the wilderness...not as a punishment...but because He knew that I loved exercising my right to invoke His divine law of Love..to speak with authority. 

Today, it doesn't matter to me whether the voice once came as a screaming demon in my own thinking trying to convince me that I was a failure, in pain, confused, or sinful...or if the voice seems to pour out in the tears of a friend calling on the phone (or writing an email) asking for support in facing their own demons.  Just the mere fact that we have enough hope to pick up the phone and call for help, or reach out to a friend in an email is an indication that God is with us. That we sense that there is a different path towards freedom. And because of Jesus' example, I know that as God's beloved children, we are all endowed with the right to say, "Get thee behind me, Satan"...or insist:

"...Just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

She said it grieves me so to see you in such pain
I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again
I said I appreciate that and would you please explain
About the fifty ways

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just listen to me
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free..."

Whatever you decide to say, remember you are His child.  You speak with the authority of a prince or a princess.  And, as it says in Proverbs:

"The King's daughter is all glorious within..."

This is all that lives and speaks within me, within my friend, within all of us...glorious things...only glorious things...with Love,

Kate

"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

"The sound of silence..."

"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence…."
- Paul Simon

Have you ever spent days in a cocoon of self-imposed silence waiting for a message from God.  I have.  I have wrapped myself in quilts and spoken as little as was humanly possible as a wife, mother, healer, friend, and neighbor.  I have silenced human reasoning….you know, the lists of pros and cons, the "if this, then that", A + B = C thinking that circles back and leaves you standing there looking at the tail end of your first premise…and let's face it nothing really looks all that great from the tail end.

I have held my tongue, held my opinions, held my peace…I have waited for the moving of the waters, the winds of change, the parting of the sea.  And just when I think I can't wait for one more second to hear God's answer to my prayer for direction, comfort, guidance, inspiration….it occurs to me that what I most needed was to know something about my relationship with God.  And what I discovered in this self-imposed "silence" was my love for His voice.  And His voice…was the silence.

For me, God's voice is often the silence that actually turns a cacophony of sound into a symphony.  A friend once referred to it as "orchestrated silences". Those carefully placed silences amongst a litany of notes that turns sounds into music. 

If you can, imagine an orchestra on stage playing Beethoven's 5th symphony, not every instrument is playing at all times.  If they were all playing at once, that would sound like…well, noise.  But it is the silences, that are built into the symphony, that create the beauty of the music.  The composer is carving out silences as much as he or she is placing notes.  And those silences aren't idle.  The cellist who only has four bars of bowing during the entire second movement doesn't get to take a nap.  She is as actively engaged in that movement as the violinist.  She is marking the music…watching each note. Waiting for the moment when she is to pull her bow across the strings.  Her silence is as much a part of the beauty of the performance as the flute's lilting solo. 

I have learned something about myself, and my relationship to God - the great Conductor, during these silences.  I have discovered that I am not afraid of not knowing everything, of not having an answer, of not being self-certain…because I am God-certain.  I have learned that I  am God's child.  By this I mean that I have come to realize that like a child, I don't need to know  how something is going to work out, or when, because I so trust my Parent's love for me and His/Her ability to take care of me that I am at peace with just knowing that my Parent knows...it is enough.  I've learned this…in the sound of silence.

Mary Baker Eddy has this to say about silence in her primary work Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"The infinite Truth of the Christ-cure has
come to this age through a "still, small voice,"
through silent utterances and divine anointing
which quicken and increase the beneficial effects
of Christianity.  I long to see the consummation of
my hope, namely, the student's higher attainments
in this line of light."

For me this "consummation of her hope" is a sacred goal…to speak less and let the sound of silence…the voice of God felt in the heart of man - that inbreaking song of grace…reach where human tongue has no voice.  Nothing can compare to this feeling of sublime surrender to our divine Parent's governance and wisdom.  Nothing can replace that feeling of resting in our Father-Mother's encircling arms…in the space of a silence so sweet - so full of trust - that no words are needed.

Kate