"lost inside a wishing well…"

"When everywhere you look,
you see regrets.

Caught up in the past,
and what might have been.

What we can never know,
will make our heads spin.

A little love, a little trust,
a lot of forgiveness..."

Every few years I seem to need to spend a day or two soaking on the message in Ellis' poignantly lovely "Right on Time." It is a musical antidote to the futility of self-doubt and regret.

There was a time when my time when every day was a battle for confidence. Not so much in my ability to carry out tasks, be creative, or express courage, but to trust my ability to pause, listen for spiritual guidance, and act with courage.

I cross-questioned every choice. I doubled back on every decision. I returned purchases within moments of leaving the store. I cancelled almost every plan. What seemed wise one day, felt foolish the next. I felt like I was on the verge of tumbling down a steep hill since every step I took had the potential for misplaced footing on loose ground.

And it all had its roots in regret. I'd been faced with a difficult choice. I'd prayed deeply. Listened humbly. Waited patiently. When clear, Love-based spiritual guidance came, I didn't question it -- I trusted and obeyed. I assumed that because the guidance felt so clearly God-impelled, that the ensuing steps would be understood and well-received. But they weren't.

Before long the doubts expressed by others, became my own. And a decision that was now irrevocable, haunted my confidence and made me question my ability to actually hear God's voice. For me, there was nothing more terrifying. If there was anything I was sure of, it was my relationship with God. I trusted it above all else. To have that shaken was beyond comprehension. I didn't know how to go forward.

It was about that time that I began to pull back from trying to be all things, to all people. I hunkered down in the silence and gave myself permission to ask all of the hard questions of the heart. I was willing to be wrong. I was willing to be told -- by God -- that I'd made an error in judgment. That I'd misinterpreted His message. That I'd been willful. That I'd made a huge mistake, and that my decision would forever haunt me. Anything but the feeling of being misled by Love.

But I got none of those messages. What I did get, was a Scriptural reminder. One that stopped me in my tracks. That on the heels of God's most precious act of love and affirmation for Jesus -- anointing him with the Holy Ghost, descending like a dove upon him and assuring him that he was His loved son in whom he was well-please -- he sent him into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil forty days and forty nights.

This may seem like a strange comfort, but it wasn't. I realized that God's love for me didn't mean that I wouldn't face temptations. Especially the temptation to doubt Him. But, that I would be given the opportunity to prove my trust that His Word - alone - was operating in my heart. No matter how others might interpret His guidance -- I knew His voice, and the language of His speaking. It was Love.

As I navigated these deep waters, I couldn't help but think of those who had been there with Jesus following his baptism and anointing. Did they wonder why he wandered off into the wilderness instead of taking up the mantle of his new ministry? Did they question the direction of his path -- shouldn't he be heading back to Jerusalem?

The timing was not his to choreograph. The direction of his path, was not his decision. How could he regret choices that weren't of his to make. He trusted -- even in the face of doubt. The temptations weren't about behaviors to avoid. They were the temptation to abandon his trust in God. He was being given a gift. The opportunity to truly trust his Father's voice.

This was my first step out of doubt and regret. I might not understand what was to come or where it would take me, but I no longer doubted that God was at the helm. I would not abandon ship.


In her compilation, Miscellaneous Writings 1884 - 1896, Mary Baker Eddy shares:

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

Little by little, I let myself trust again. I learned to listen without condition. I stopped believing that a particular outcome was the measure of God's guidance. His timing became my "right on time" -- not the other way around. I was willing to sit in the space of not knowing "why," and still trust that where the voice of Love was leading me -- however unclear to my human sense of things -- was a place where I would grown to trust God more.

I discovered that the goal wasn't to get it right, the goal was to deepen into an unshakable relationship of trust with my Father-Mother God. This became everything.


offered with Love,

Kate

wait, never doubting...

"Sunshine on my shoulders
makes me happy,
sunshine in my eyes
can make me cry,
Sunshine on the water
looks so lovely..."

Here in the high Rockies we've seen very little of the sun this spring. It's hard not to miss the feeling of "Sunshine on My Shoulders," that John Denver sings about in this lovely performance.

I actually love these cloudy, rainy, snow-spitting spring days in the mountains. But I also enjoy the bone-deep warmth of the sun on my shoulders.  I know that whatever unfolds in this valley is going to be beautiful.  Often I will ask nature, "what do you have to teach me today?" And then I wait. This morning was no different.

Lowering clouds of blue-black slate, the weight of moisture in the air, the soft filtered light of an impending storm -- what was it's message. I stood silently at the reed-lined edge of our lake, and saw the play of almost-light upon the water.  Then the question came, "why don't you doubt the sun?"

Hmmm, I thought. I haven't actually seen the sun for days. All sensible evidence would point to a fading, a dissolution, a failing. But I had never even considered the possibility that the sun was in decline.

Every glimmer of light, every sprouting seed, each flower reaching towards the southwest reminded me that the sun is where it has always been. Diffused light, soft shadows, the barest warmth -- it is enough.

I have been thinking about this today in light of Mary Baker Eddy's statement on the first page of her "Preface" to Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"The wakeful shepherd
beholds the first faint morning beams,
ere cometh the full radiance
of a risen day." 

This is my purpose. To stay focused on the presence of light. To know -- with all my being -- that it portends the full radiant presence of the Sun. Or, as Eddy elsewhere encourages, to:

"wait, never doubting" 

Why? Why, if the light seems to be fading, the warmth to be retreating, the clouds overpowering, do we not doubt?  Well, I think it's  because we know that you can't just get a little piece of the Sun. If the light is at all present, it is all present.

So it is with God's presence. If we are at all aware of the presence of good, it portends the full and undiminished presence of all good, of complete health, of undiminished joy and peace.

You can't get a little bit of God. You just can't. The only measure of the Infinite -- is infinite. The only portion of All-in-all -- is all.

So, whatever tries to convince you that God's goodness is absent in your life: illness - parading itself as the absence of health, pain - marketing itself as the absence of peace, hatred, anger, fear - suggesting themselves as the absence of Love -- don't buy it. Keep you heart transfixed on whatever glimmer of God's goodness you can see, feel, hear. And never forget what it portends.

Just as the darkest shadow is really only an indication of the brightest light -- the darkest storm is only the opportunity to feel the central calm within.

And if you wait -- wait upon (serve), not wait for -- never doubting, you will discover a light that never fades, a warmth that never cools, and an unwavering peace that comes from a deeply radiant kingdom -- the consciousness of Love's ever-active presence -- within.


with all my love -- and with Love,

Kate