"the future feels so hard, and I want to go back..."

"...The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
I am caught between the Promise
And the things I know

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned..."
- Sara Groves

A friend asked me to repost this piece. Whether we are "looking back," in regret or relief, it's still looking back. God's name is I AM -- this is where we find Him. And it is His Voice I listen for in the music of this moment. offered with love:

Okay, so I have become a bit obsessed with Sara Groves' lyrics and music.  But, as my husband says, "she is so good at knowing you."  When I discovered her "Painting Pictures of Egypt," it was like walking past a mirror, smiling at a stranger, and then suddenly realizing you are smiling at yourself.

I listened with rapt wonder.  She was able to put words to the feeling of knowing when you had to leave one place -- the place where you'd lived in hunched sadness -- for a horizon that seemed to hold no oasis or refuge.  It is a journey in which you cross the desert of pain -- traversing the lonely unchartered territories of your own heart, learning to eat locust and drink dew from the crevices in stones -- only to find that you are still just standing at the edge of something even more vastly new and incomprehensible. So uncertain that you begin to dream of returning to the soft comforts of the outgrown, but familiar.

I think this is what the children of Israel may have faced at the edge of the Red Sea.  Having left behind a tortured existence of brutality and slavery, they find themselves in a place where they are free -- but free to do what, when all that stands in front of them is a roiling ocean of resistance and self-doubt.  Pharoah is pursuing them from behind and they wonder why they ever left Egypt in the first place. At least in Egypt they had the fleshpots. 

I have known this kind of questioning.  I have known the terror of "not knowing" what comes next, and the pull of what once was. "At least there were those fleshpots," it hisses. "Hey, you know how to navigate the familiar, endless rhythm of pyramid building. You know how to anticipate and brace yourself for the touch -- however hurtful -- of the slavemaster's whip."

That's when I would begin "painting pictures of Egypt" in the soft golden glow of memory.  The straw and mud pits of backbreaking labor in the fields took on a soft light -- a "Little House on the Prairie" romanticism. Why I could almost hear the swell of a James Newton Howard soundtrack if I listened hard enough.

But in those moments when my Children of Israel-self complains to my Moses-self at the edge of the Red Sea, "why did you bring us here, at least in Egypt I had fleshpots!" I remember Moses' reply, "Stand ye still and see the salvation of our God," which God rebukes with, "Why are you telling them that, tell them to move forward!"

And what those in exile could never have even imagined - a sea splitting in two so that they could cross on dryland - happens right before their eyes.

They had outgrown the lessons of Egypt, and each step forward through the sand brought them to the place where a miracle was waiting.

Like the children of Israel at the edge of the Red Sea, I too have spent far too many days sitting in the hot shifting sands of self-doubt painting romantic pictures of Egypt in the soft glow of memory. When right there, right before me -- within just a few steps of its shores -- a Red Sea was waiting to part and lead me to the promised land. 

Today I have my heart focused on the sea.  I am painting seascapes full of milk and honey, bees and blueberries, lemons and lavender. I am leaving the outgrown in Egypt where it belongs -- in the past.  I am moving forward, one step at a time -- looking for miracles in the sand and the sea.

"...I don't want to leave here
I don't want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most
Are the places where I've been
They are calling out to me
Like a long lost friend

It's not about losing faith
It's not about trust
It's all about comfortable
When you move so much
And the place I was wasn't perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn't milk or honey
But then neither is this

I've been painting pictures of Egypt,
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard,
And I wanna go back!
But the places that used to fit me,
Cannot hold the things I've learned
Those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned..."

If it comes too quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
And if it comes too quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?"

with Love,


Kate

"til we find our place..."

"It's the circle of Life,
and it moves us all,
through despair and hope,
through faith and love.

Till we find our place
on the path unwinding...
In the circle,
the circle of Life..."

Do you remember sitting in the darkened movie theatre with your toddler, preschooler, gradeschool-age child, or friend...and hearing the first stirrings of Africa rising like a drumbeat
through the theater.  That song, "The Circle of Life," still gives me chills. 

As it did the other day, when my grandson was visiting.  I'd put one of our vintage Disney Hi-Ho Sing-along DVDs on to, well, to sing-along with, and from the moment I heard that first "Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba, Sithi uhm ingonyama..." I was fighting back the tears.  

How did 17 years go by so fast?  Here I was holding the precious son, of the beloved daughter I'd first seen this movie with, at another time, and in another place...so long ago.  It was unsettling....and lovely. 

It wasn't just that the years had melted into moments, but that I could see the evolution of my own thinking about life and my purpose here, on this planet. 

As I listened to that opening song, I realized that my path has been circular. And thank goodness it has.   It's sometimes been a hard climb, and often felt like an insurmountably rugged way.  But, by taking a circuitous path, I have been able to make progress in baby steps...and trust me, I needed baby steps. 

I am not a "vertical" climber...I am a hiker.  I walk around the mountain, rather than trying to scale solid granite rock faces, in a day.    But when you are walking in a circluar pattern, it is almost impossible to see very far ahead of you.   And it requires trust.   Trust that moving in the direction of the sun, is up...trust, that as long as you keep moving, you will go up...however incrementally and slow.   And even though this often meant that I couldn't anticipate the amazing scenery that was coming, I was equally protected from seeing..and worrying about...the challenges I would face.

These past few years, I really haven't had any choice but, to "just put one foot in front of the other."  But, because I couldn't see too far ahead, or linger on views behind me,  I've found that, moment-by-moment, I really have been able to take at least one more step forward...however difficult...in this circle of life. 

Not seeing too far ahead, I wasn't tempted to rush towards this precious moment of delighting in the presence of one sweet little boy.  And by not being able to fixate on the path behind me, it was impossible for me to cling to bygone days...days that I might never have wanted to leave.  A circular path kept me moving...and I am grateful.

And anyway, if I am really clear about why I'm on this life journey,  I am not looking out in front of me...or behind me...I am looking up.  That's my destination anyway...just closer to Him.

Mary Baker Eddy, makes reference to the Psalmist's encouragement, when she says,

"Step by step will those who trust Him find
that "God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble."

Step-by-step...for me...it is the circle of life, and I am finding that it moves us all through despair and hope, through faith and love...  I've gathered some lovely wildflowers along the way, seen some incredible views...but nothing compares with feeling the sun...the warmth of His Love...on my face.

We just have to trust, take the next step...and keep looking up...with Love,

Kate


*I thought you might like the option of hearing/seeing Elton John's more ballad-like video  of "Circle of Life" including playful lion cubs...enjoy.

"Teach your parents well..."

"You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye…"
- Graham Nash

Last Saturday we graduated our son and 61 of his friends from high school.  It was a commencement full joy and tears.  There was the traditional hymn of welcome as the seniors entered the gym.  It begins:

"In heavenly love abiding
No change my heart shall fear
For safe is such confiding
For nothing changes here…"
- Waring

This is the part where I usually cry.  But this year I didn't.  I know these young men and women.  I know their hearts, their dreams, their concerns and their hopes.  They were ready.  I wasn't ready for them to switch their tassels and launch out far beyond the coffeehouse I often run into them at, but they are more than ready to change the world they live in through service to others and ethical choices.

There were inspirational readings and speeches, more songs and the distribution of diplomas…but it was this statement, from one of the members of the Class of 2007, that I scribbled (I learned a long time ago, that when kids talk…have a pen ready) onto my blue and gold embossed program:

"The only failure is not taking the risk to serve."

This axiom from Zachary Lee Barron (make note of this name, I am certain that you will see it again) symbolized, for me, the heart of this generation.  It is a message that they bring to the table for each of us…young, and those with more calendar days under our belts…to chew on, digest, and hopefully assimilate into our very being.  It is this message that they breathe into the atmosphere of their future and I intend to inhale deeply.

Zach went on to quote Nelson Mandela (a man who didn't join a peace movement..but IS one) in his riveting remarks and, for me, time stood still.  This young man is the offspring of my generation, the "make love, not war" children of the 70s…but with an added grace and a fire in his belly for reform that is tempered by wisdom.  I know Zach and his friends…they will make a difference.  They give me great hope that it is possible to turn the tide of self-indulgent consumerism and bad boy/girl-based celebrity around.  They'll make service to others, the ethical use of resources, and personal integrity a tsunami-like catalyst for change.

"…And you of tender years
Can't know the fears
That your elders grew by
And so please help Them
with your youth
They seek the truth…"

So, as I walked out of McCalmont Gymnasium on June 5, 2007, the future looked brighter.  I clutched my program with Zach's statement scribbled on it, to my heart…it was 1972 and 2007 all at once. No, they can never fully know what fears we have faced down in getting from there to here…but perhaps we have provided them with waymarks, a rallying cry, and some very strange costumes along the road towards their own peace movement.  And maybe, just maybe…if we leave our bell bottoms and love beads in the attic…they will let us join them…shoulder to shoulder as they lead the way.  If their code is "The only failure is not taking the risk to serve", I want a to march with them all along the way.

"...Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you..."

Thanks Zach…and to the Class of 2007 – wherever you are around the world - please ,

"Feed us on your dreams…"

with love, hope, and expectation,
Kate

"Sunrise, sunset..."

"Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze…"
     - Bock/Harnick

June is the month of weddings and graduations…in our family alone we will have graduated a daughter from college and a son from high school within the week.  We will have written songs for two weddings and sent out dozens of congratulations cards filled with encouragement and hope.

If there is a traveling song through the month of June, I think…for me…it might be Tevya and Golda's wedding song for Tzeital and Motel from the musical "Fiddler on the Roof."  It begins to gather force in my heart as hand-lettered envelopes appear like magic in our mailbox each spring.  I find myself humming it unconsciously while the names of high school auditoriums, college greens, chapels, temples, and reception halls beckon from creamy engraved cardstock.  I get teary as the names of children I have held as babies…or cheered on from the sidelines…reach out from sheets of embossed and watermarked Crane's stationary to tug at my heartstrings.  By Memorial Day I am in full voice… 

"…Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?…"

This morning I started thinking about a Friday in late April, 2001.  The sixth grade had been dismissed early for a teacher in-service.  Since it was so close to our daughter's birthday, we chose to host her party that afternoon.  All of the sixth grade girls piled into our minivans and we headed off to a great pottery painting studio where we all sat around…mothers and daughters…delicately applying glaze to mugs, plates, jewelry boxes-the-size-of-a-pincushion and smiling kitties with no other purpose than to sit on a bedroom shelf, reminding you that you had a great afternoon with your friends.

I can see each of those girls today…as they were that day in April…many in braces, some just beginning to notice boys…others already well aware of who they wanted to stand next to at sixth grade graduation.  I remember that we moms were sitting on the edge of our proverbial seats that afternoon. I think that most of us knew that a chapter in our lives was coming to a close and a new one--one of middle school, boys, driving, and their eventual graduation from high school--was looming.  Before we knew it, we would be aching for the opportunity to drive our daughters to a dance class or volleyball game rather than have them ask for the keys.

"I don't remember growing older
When did they?"

I saw a photo of one of those sweet girls on Facebook last night.  For the past six years I have thought of her as the sparkly little girl who passed me the periwinkle glaze as we painted our mugs at The Painted Zebra that afternoon.  She is now a talented young woman, heading off to university and ready to take on New York, Hollywood, Wall Street…and she can do it.   Another girl, even in the throes of middle school angst, never failed to greet me with genuine joy and a warm embrace ...I will miss her smile, but can't wait to hear how her kindness "reaches across continents and oceans to the globes remotest bounds" blessing others with that amazing heart of hers...so full of benovolence.

"...When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he get to be so tall?"

Our son goes out to breakfast with friends these days.  He will soon move to the West Coast where he will begin his life of college, work, apartments, new friends, and new landscapes.  He is tall and capable…we are proud of his willingness to engage with the world around him in an environmentally ethical way.  He is strong and will learn his lessons with grace…he has already proven he has the maturity and compassion necessary to become a global citizen.

"Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?"

In the display windows outside of his high school's bookstore there are posters with photographs of each senior as a baby or toddler.  Parents, teachers, and friends puzzle over which baby photo goes with which of the senior portraits also displayed.  For some it is easy…this is a very small school community.  Many of the families have been in classrooms for Back-to-School nights together since an infant co-op program.  These parents aren't guessing which baby photo goes with which senior portrait…they are remembering what these young men and women looked like as babies and toddlers…they were there!  For this group it really did take a village…and a very closeknit one at that…to raise each child.

"...Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze..."

These seniors have blossomed into young men and women of substance and impact.  Their dreams and hopes will seed the world with promise.  I feel honored to have been a witness to their self-discovery.

"Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears..."

The seasons have flown all too swiftly.  Year after year, fall and spring became one…the love these children had for one another has over and again dissolved the bitter chill of coldness, apathy, gossip, darkness or discouragement.  Friendships forged since preschool have expanded to include new students and have morphed into new "families" of interest. The girl whose passion for horses in lower school may have left her feeling isolated from the "soccer crowd" found new friends while running track in high school.  The object of one boy's affection in middle school became his lab partner in physics five years later…a much better fit.  As their parents we watched, listened and cried with them.  And if hindsight was ever 20/20, it's in looking back at your child's high school journey.

"...What words of wisdom can I give them?
How can I help to ease their way?"

This one is easy for me, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God…within your own heart…and all things shall be added unto you."  Always put God, Love before fear in making good decisions.  Put God, Mind--the expression of intelligence, intuition, discernment--before giving in to discouragement or apathy…or giving up on yourself.  Put God, Soul--your love for beauty, harmony, form--before consenting to the ordinary, the discordant, or the chaotic.  Claim peace as the presence of God in your life rather than the temporary absence of war.  Demand that purity is a self-assertive divine power in your life rather than seeing it as a fragile human condition subject to good or bad personal choices.  Trust that desire really is prayer and that prayer is God's gracious means (not our own) for communicating His will in our lives…to our hearts.  As I said, "See ye first the kingdom of God…within you." 

  "Now they must learn from one another
Day by day..."

And they will…they will learn the way we have learned…from one another.  For me, the most important lessons in life are all learned in relationships.  Mary Baker Eddy says, "What we most need is the fervent desire for growth in grace – expressed in patience, meekness, love and good deeds."  I can't imagine learning any one of those things in isolation.  I need "you" to discover the best in myself…the me that is patient, loving, meek, and lives to do "good deeds."  I truly believe this is why the Lord's Prayer is all in the language of relationships…"Our Father, Give us this day, Lead us not into temptation. "

"Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze..."

Saturday will be laden with happiness and tears.  We will be happy for their successes, accomplishments and because they have arrived at this milestone so full of joy, grace, and hope.  We will shed tears…we will miss them.  They have blossomed even as we gazed.  There is a wide world waiting for the seeds of hope, compassion, courage and grace they are ready to broadcast far and wide.

And we will be watching…on tiptoes…for those seeds to bear fruit and feed a waiting world. 

Congratulations Class of 2007…watching you grow has been a privilege and a joy...you are loved...
Kate