Showing posts with label The Good Samaritan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Good Samaritan. Show all posts

Thursday, August 26, 2010

"in the arms of the angel..."

"You are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie...
In the arms of the angel,
may you find some comfort here..."

- Sarah Maclachlan

I know I've used Sarah's "Angel" as the keynote for another post...but I can't argue with my own angels when they suggest a song in connection with a recalled spirtual experience. 

Mary Baker Eddy defines "angels" in
Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures as:

ANGELS.  God's thoughts passing to man; spiritual intuitions, pure and perfect;  the inspiration of goodness, purity, and immortality, counteracting all evil, sensuality, and mortality.

So, here's another angel-based true story, exactly the right companion for this very special song.

It was a perfectly cloudless, early autumn Colorado day.  Standing ankle-deep in soft September grass, just under the shadow of the Collegiates, I was awash in wonder.  The voice of the Arkansas River...whispering her song through the air with a sweetness that swirled and pooled around me like a diaphanous, silken scarf...was so close I could almost feel the spray gathering, like dewdrops along a blade of grass, on each strand of hair.   

The day couldn't have been more wonderful.  Long-held hopes were on the verge of being realized, our children were all happily engaged in activities and interests they loved, and each challenge faced only turned us more quickly to that inward "kingdom of heaven," where the only peace worth pursuing was imminently, and infinitely, available every moment. 

I turned my face upwards to soak the long, hot rays of the sunlight into the depths of my being.  This was a good day...a very, very good day. 

With that thought, my cell phone started ringing and I excused myself from the company of a guide I was exploring new mountain terrain with.  We didn't know eachother well, but in the course of our conversations, I'd already explained that in my work, I provided spiritual support to people who were in need. And, that if a call came in I would need to step aside and take it...no matter where we were, in conversation or in navigating the landscape.

She was gracious in moving, well out of hearing range, as soon as she heard the phone begin to ring, and after taking the call I returned to where she was standing.  She could tell immediately that the call had not been the kind I'd expected.  I was on the verge of tears.  The call had been about a loved one in crisis. And rather than being the one to offer support, I was the one who longed for a strong spiritual "shoring up."

She asked me if I needed anything, and I blurted out, "I
need to pray..."   Her response was instant.  She asked me if I would like for her to pray with me.  I said, "yes."  And before I could even take in another deeply drawn breath, this "angel," whose religious-affiliation, philosophy of life, and/or take on the relationship between Jesus and God were completely unbeknownst, and unimportant to me, took my hands in hers and began to pray aloud.  I was immediately comforted, grateful, and humbled. 

She didn't ask about my religious leanings, whether I loved Jesus, or if I wanted her to pray silently or audibly...she just prayed.  There was no priestliness, or hierarchy in her response.  It was clear, in her heart we were both obedient children, humble servants of a loving God.   Her words were filled with innocence and grace, and they flowed as effortlessly, and as purely, as the waters of the Arkansas River.

Her courage, in offering to pray with me, was full of the kind of primitive spiritual fellowship I longed for in my sense of community.  I was deeply touched.  I wanted to know this woman...forever.   I hope I will.

The urgency of the caller's situation was quickly down-graded.  But this story isn't about that.  It is about the courage of an angel who didn't hesitate...for one second...in offering to meet me where I was and walk me out of a dark moment into the light of Love.

I pray each day for this kind of boldness in Christ.  Thank you, dear "stranger" for your fellowship and compassion...for binding up my wounds and pouring in the oil of your gentleness, your consecration to what you know and believe, and your charity towards a fellow traveler.

with Love, 

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

"We ask that life be kind..."

"...We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love

Let this be our prayer
Just like every child

Needs to find a place,
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe..."

-     Josh Groban (The Prayer)

Sam sent an email earlier today.  She is going to University in London and "posts" me a daily update on her activities so that I won't be shocked when she returns next summer and is all "pip, pip," "cheerio," and ordering "chips" at Kay's instead of French fries.  I love hearing all about her life in "the big city" and her adventures through the looking glass of dollars to pounds and yards to meters.

Today's email included a midday shopping trip and the bus ride home:

"We took the bus back and all the school kids were on there in
their blazers and skirts and amazing accents.  This one little
kid was really sad and she was telling us how all her friends
had their back to her.  I felt bad."

I read it and burst into tears.  I was that little girl so much of my childhood.  I would have given anything to have some "big girls" take an interest in me on the bus, notice my aloneness, and show compassion by talking with me.

So this is a post celebrating all the big girls (and boys) who take notice, who are aware, who remember that being a child can sometimes be lonely and confusing, and who stop, for a moment, to make a difference.

Jesus celebrates the kindness of a traveling foreigner on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, in the story of The Good Samaritan…I have my own Good Samantha story now.

Sam and her friends may never see that little girl again.  The color of her school uniform, the length of her hair, the town she was from will fade from their memory, but I can almost promise you that the sound of their voices, the kindness in their eyes, the hope they inspired...will never fade from hers.

As Mother Teresa once said, "There are no great things to be done, only small things done with great love."

I am very proud of you Sam…I know your mom is too.

Love,

M- Kate