"Are you happy..."

"Please stir my soul,
take me back to the fire.
And bring to me,
recollections of joy
and renew my first desire..."

This afternoon I was feeling a bit out of sorts. Which was strange since I woke this morning with a spiritual spring in my step and a winged heart.

What changed?

I went back over the morning. An inspiring church service,  connecting with friends, a loved sister's visit, hearing her beautiful voice as she performed one of my favorite songs, all during my favorite time of year...it was perplexing. 

Then I remembered what had begun the shift in my emotional landscape. It was a seemingly benign question.

Are you happy?

It sent me spiraling into the whirlpool "me." Was I happy, was I feeling particularly fulfilled, was I "living the dream?"

Thank goodness for the Sara Groves' playlist on my iPod, and in that moment, her song, "Stir my Heart." It snapped me out of the hypnosis of personal happiness and back into the joy of living my first desire:

"Thy will be done."

I couldn't help but chuckle.  When did anyone ask Jesus if he was happy? 

Then, just when I thought I'd had all the reminder I needed, I caught the tail end of an interview on PBS. The interviewee was being asked the same question: "Are you happy?" And he related the details of an interview he had heard with Bob Dylan in which Dylan was asked the same question: "Are you happy?" And it was Dylan's response that inspired him, and in turn his referencing it, that refocused me. He said:

"The point isn't to be happy. 

The point is to be doing

what you're supposed to be doing."

It was the perfect answer for me at that moment.

The question, "Are you happy?" invites looking at one's life as it is, in comparison with what it might be. "Are you happy?" requires a judgment. Even if it's just a judgment of your own circumstances.

I understand the sentiment behind the question. And it's full of genuine concern, kindness, and love. But it's a question that I've never been able to answer cogently. And now I know why.

My goal isn't to be happy. My goal is to be doing the will of God. To serve Him, to align my life, with His purpose for me. That doesn't always leave me feeling all chipper and ready to "sing a happy tune" with a battalion of animated bluebirds.

But, it does bring me joy. And I think of joy as the light that radiates from a core alignment with one's divine purpose. One of my favorite hymns speaks of "the joy that none can take away..." That's the joy I aspire to. To feel a sentiment so deeply grounded that it can't be taken, shaken, or stirred by outside circumstances, or changes.

Am I happy? Perhaps. But is that the right question to be asking myself?  Am I doing what I am supposed to be doing, am I living on purpose...yes, I think I am.  That brings me great joy. 

Mary Baker Eddy has two statement's about "happiness" that, in light of this inner dialogue, I am pondering today.  They've helped me focus the conversation:

"Happiness is spiritual, born of Truth and Love."

and

"What am I?

I am able to impart truth, health, and happiness, 

and this is my rock of salvation, 

and my reason for existing."

Thanks to these statements, I am discovering that since happiness is spiritual, and it is born of Truth and Love, it is not humanly circumscribed. It is of God, and therefore,  there is nothing I can do to become more happy, or less happy. Like God, it must be impartially and universally, All-in-all.

And secondly, happiness is not something I get from the outside, it is something I have the privilege of imparting...radiating...from within. Imparting happiness is my "reason for existing, getting it...is not.

Just some things that have made my Sunday all the more beautiful...

with Love,

Kate

"I'm fifteen for a moment..."

"...Halftime goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
the sun is getting high
We're moving on...

15 there's still time for you
Time to love and time to lose
Oh 15, there's never a wish better than this,
When you've only got a hundred years to live..."
- Five for Fighting

This song, "100 Years" by Five for Fighting, grabs me and doesn't let go.  Whenever I hear it on the radio, or recently on my friend, Liesl's Facebook page, I remember being 15, and it was magical...for a moment.  Then the next moment,  I was 15 and 20 seconds, then 15 years and 3 days, 17 minutes, and 45 seconds...you get the picture. Today I am 55...for a moment. And I really feel no different today, than I did at 15. I feel love deeply, I long to make a difference in the world, and I want to know the presence of God in my life. 15, 55...they are just numbers that come and go.  Each one of these numbers is as full of value in marking life milestones as those same numbers are in helping us count apples in a bowl, measure a room for wallpaper, or reconcile a check book.

15 was a space that marked an important time in my life.  It was sweet and full of learning...and I loved it.  I have enjoyed the bookmarks that were 23, and 35, and 48...placeholders that make it easy to reference those chapters when recalling a shared experience of joy, sorrow, triumph, or transitions with others.  I can say to my daughter, "when you were 11 and we lived in Colorado..." and we both know where to land as we remember events on our shared timeline. The number doesn't define her, it only serves as a valuable reference point in cataloguing our experiences together.

As I bookmarked tonight's milestone I couldn't help but write my own verse to 100 years:

"I'm 55 for a moment
No longer waiting for a reason to love
And I'm just grateful
Counting the blessings I have known..."

I will only be 55 for one moment.  But that moment will be rich with spiritual substance.  It will be teeming with the opportunity to be generous, kind, patient, good.  And although Life blesses me with an infinite number of moments, each one...including this 55th year, 8th hour, 33rd minute, and 27th second of this chapter in my eternal life book...is precious, treasured, and worthy of celebration. 

I will try to count every one of my moments as dear...sacred as that first moment I looked into my daughters' eyes, heard my mother's voice, tasted my first bite of pear, or felt the sweetness of true love.

In the last year I faced a health crisis that made me even more aware of how very precious each moment of life is.  Every moment.  Not one is disposable. Each is a gift.  A moment of life can be filled with beauty, movement, joy, affection, wonder.  Isn't it amazing!

When I think of the gift of life, I think of my mom.  No matter how many times she has faced seemingly insurmountable odds, she lives her life vigorously, and with a clear purpose.  She lives to bless, and every day she blesses the lives of the children she nannies.  She lives her life with such exuberance and hope...she always has. Her childlike joy and eager generosity have taught me that youthfulness is experienced in each and every moment that we choose to fill our hearts and minds with love.  My mom has always made me feel as though her life is more wonderfully rich because we, her children, are in it with her.  I hope she knows that we feel the same.  

"I'm 99 for a moment
I'm praying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are..."

15 there's still time for you
Time to love and time to choose
Oh 15, there's never a wish, better than this
When you've only got a hundred years to live..."

I hope your very next moment is a precious to you as the sound of a loved one's voice...and that it is filled with gentle friends, exhuberant joy, and a profoundly God-sent sense of purpose...and always with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

Don't miss this precious "Peter Pan" moment from when I was six years old...it broadcast on television each year...what joy it brought to us all...i liked being six...I still do!!  Watching this today I am six again...for a moment!!

love, Kate

"On your 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..."

Don Henley
"For My Wedding"

On Saturday, my dear friend Todd will marry.   Anyone who knows Todd, knows the face of love.  Anyone who knows Todd, knows what the "office of husband" looks like....what the office of husband lives, speaks, walks, and laughs like.  Todd was married for decades to his sweetheart, Debbie, the mother of their remarkable daughters, and his best friend.  When Todd was widowed three years ago, I never sensed any interruption to his husbandhood. He has been a gentle friend, a compassionate neighbor, a devoted father.   He has remained faithful, kind, tender, honest, pure, good, funny, loving...he listens with his heart.

To think that God has blessed Todd with another great love in his life is to know that "God is Love" and that He wants great good for each of us. 

Joseph Campbell once said,

"Marriage is not a simple love affair, it's an ordeal,
and the ordeal is the sacrifice of ego to a relationship
in which two have become one." 

Knowing Todd, I am not surprised that he would embrace any opportunity he could to sacrifice his ego to a relationship where selflessness and generosity are the demands of each day. 

I wrote the following post three years ago when another loved friend married.  I went back to it today as I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving and celebration for my friend Todd and his bride.  It still rings true for me.  I send it out across the plains, the prairie, the desert...I send it out on the winds of love and friendship...I send it out to Todd and Pam...and their children.  May the Lord bless you and keep you.  Always,

Kate

"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 bride and groom having dated only eachother 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's presence turning the water into wine.  Turning that which refreshes hope and celebrates the good in all that has gone before, inspiring and givng each one deep and profound opportunities today for "growth in grace....patience, meekness, love and good deeds"...for being ripened and matured through love's great desire to live "with another" in communion and cooperation as husband and wife.  

This statement has caused me, this week, to think about what makes every bridal altar so deserving of this prayer....and my prayer has led me to one word....hope.   It takes remarkable hope to approach the bridal altar...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....who may have given up dreams or are protecting tender hearts from possible hurt. 

So today I am celebrating hope with dear ones....the children who hope their parents have found another "one true love", parents who pray their daughters and sons will be cherished and supported in their dreams and desires, friends and families who hope 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 the wedding song, "For my Wedding" that was written for his own marriage.  This song speaks to the hope that I pray we all bring to the altar...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...but most of all...hope...for this I pray...on your wedding day.

with all my love,

K

"Can you paint with all the colors of the Wind..."

"...You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind..."
Stephen Schwartz
"Colors of the Wind*"

Our twins had lived in the suburbs for most of their childhood.  Everyone in their neighborhood had gone to the same school, shared similar values, shopped at the same stores, and spoke the same language....and my children had known almost everyone they knew...as long as they could remember.

When we moved to a wonderful urban neighborhood near the largest university in our city a few years ago, they were uncomfortable with their surroundings. The children who lived on our street were fearless, outgoing, gregarious...and different.  They came from many different countries and faiths, spoke a dozen or more different languages, ate unusual foods, and weren't afraid of strangers. 

As much as we encouraged them to engage in neighborhood games, it took almost two years before they felt comfortable walking across the street and joining the other children who were taking turns on a wonderful rope swing that hung from an ancient sycamore tree in front of the University coop. As their parents, we longed to have them feel at home in a neighborhood we loved dearly.  We loved walking in the public gardens that quilted the large urban park near our home.  We felt blessed to be surrounded by museums, galleries, a world-class zoo, and libraries.  We hoped they would grow to enjoy it too.  And they did, but it took dissolving false perceptions about what it meant to be "different."

I remember the first breakthrough.  It happened one afternoon as we drove home from their private school in the suburbs that first fall after school was back in session.  As we turned on to our wide street canopied by enormous oak and sycamore trees, the girls commented on "those poor children" who were playing hopscotch, dodge ball, and foursquare...or sitting in small groups...on their asphalt play yard behind the large church/school surrounded by chain link fencing on the corner.

I drove slowly by the school and the girls bemoaned the plight of "those poor children."  Their well-equipped playground out "in the county" was filled with state-of-the-art equipment, landscaping, environmentally friendly wood chips, and even a new Gaga pit.  They couldn't understand how "those poor children" could stand it.

After we pulled into the parking space in front of our house, unloaded backpacks and lunch boxes from the car, and changed out of school clothes, I suggested to the girls that we take a walk to the coffeehouse on the corner for an after school treat.  They loved the coffeehouse on the corner where their big brother was a part-time barista and were happy to walk hand-in-hand with me past the school across the street, on the corner. 

As we approached that end of the block, skipping along cracked sidewalks, uneven from the growth of large tree roots that had lifted them like seismic plates long ago, a bell rang and children poured onto the playground from doors on two sides of the school building.   It was for me easy to slow down our pace.  My girls were fascinated by children who quickly divided themselves into teams for kickball,  and congregated in small groups to play foursquare or hopscotch in hand-chalked squares all over the pavement. 

I asked the girls to close their eyes and tell me what they heard.  They were still young enough to like this kind of game.  They said they heard, laughter, giggling, cheering, balls bouncing, girls whispering, boys yelling.  I asked them to open their eyes and tell me what they were seeing.  The identified happy preschoolers, fast boys, girls who danced around making up cheerleading routines, or threw markers for hopscotch. 

I asked them if they could point out one of "those poor children" they felt so sorry for only minutes earlier...disadvantaged children they had been sure "just couldn't be happy" without the same kind of well-equipped playground they enjoyed at their school "in the county".

They couldn't find one.  These were happy children, they were wearing clean, brightly-colored uniforms, they were with their friends, they were laughing, cheering, teasing, competing, being disciplined by teachers that obviously cared about their safety and happiness...they were just like them.  

This was a lovely opportunity for each of us to practice "spiritual translation."  What from a limited perspective appeared as a diminished sense of bounty...no swings, grass, or equipment, fewer teachers, "less" screaming from every direction,  to spiritual sense -- " the constant conscious capacity to understand God" (and that He is always present) -- there was an abundance of creativity, joy, innovation, community, generosity, patience, sharing.  We started to see that through the lens of spiritual sense the girls had more in common with these children...than what at first glance appeared different.

This was the first, of many breakthroughs.   We enjoyed two dozen months of happiness in our city home.  The girls grew to know their neighbors, to feel protective of the "wild-haired professor"  and his black kitty who greeted us each afternoon when we returned from school, to anticipate the return of grad students at the end of Spring Break, to wave to the little girls who visited their grandma each weekend, and to look forward to the first signs of spring and the ducks in the park.

The day we reluctantly filled the moving van and left our wonderfully diverse urban neighborhood, we had to call the girls away from where they were playing with a group of neighborhood children across the street...they had become part of the beautifully rich and diverse threads that made up our neighborhood.  A tapestry more lovely because of the many colors and textures found woven through its fabric. 

Last weekend we joined friends for a Spring Break visit to our beloved Forest Park in the old neighborhood.  The girls pointed out favorite gardens, trails we had walked hundreds of times when they were just a day-to-day part of our neighborhood, recognized saplings that had been planted after a devastating Spring storm...flowering trees that had grown "at least a foot", and wondered if the ducks in the pond were decedents of "our duck family"...the ones we fed and talked to on our family walks in the park after dinner on summer evenings.

We now live halfway between "the city" and "the county."  We are learning new things here too.  When we drive through our old city neighborhood the girls tell us how much they loved "our old house" and the neighborhood where "the sidewalks were crooked and there was a big rope swing where all our neighborhood friends played in front of the student coop across the street."  Yes, we smile too.  "Those poor children" had become their neighbors...and friends.

"You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth

The rainstorm and the river are my brothers
The heron and the otter are my friends
And we are all connected to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends

How high will the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains
We need to paint with all the colors of the wind

You can own the Earth and still
All you'll own is Earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind*..."

*WIND. That which indicates the might of omnipotence and the movements of God's spiritual government, encompassing all things."  - Mary Baker Eddy

with Love and hope...

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"God must have spent a little more time..."

"Your love is like a river
Peaceful and deep
Your soul is like a secret
That I never could keep
When I look into your eyes
I know that it's true
God must have spent...
A little more time
On you..."

I've always liked this song, "God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You," from n Sync.  It reminds me of taking our daughter to dance competitions and rehearsals all over Colorado, but it also reminds me of the way that I felt about myself when I looked in the mirror this morning.  I have been spending all of my time patiently letting God bathe me in His love...His enduring view of me...and it's made such a difference in the way I see myself and others.

Over twenty years ago I was facing a life-threatening...and very painful...illness, a disappointed adoption, the collapse of my marriage, and the loss of my career.  Not a good day at the office...so they say. 

In the midst of all this I called someone who had been my spiritual mentor and teacher and I will never forget something he said to me, "There will come a day when you will miss this time, and long for this experience."  I couldn't believe he was saying this to me.  I was in pain, my heart was broken and I felt like I had no purpose or reason to live, and he thought I would miss feeling this way???

But I did.  Long after the pain had dissolved, the marriage was on stronger footing, I had returned to work, and we'd adopted our daughter, I remembered his words and had to admit that I did miss the urgency I'd felt every moment when I woke longing for God's tangible presence in my life and in my heart.  I missed the days when every minute was spent on my knees in prayer, at Christ's table hungering and thirsting for the inspired Word, and watching each thought with the alertness of a sentry.

There was a sadness that I had not trusted his counsel.  I was too worried that the pain would never end, that I would be left forever alone and homeless, and that I would never know motherhood...to savor those days of hungry prayer.

There have been other opportunities over the years, but in the moment I would usually forget his counsel...again...to fully "love the journey."  I would have moments where I could see the beauty of holiness, enjoy the landscape, and rest upon the lessons I was learning, but for the most part, I wanted whatever challenge I was facing to be over as soon as possible. 

But not this time.  When I suffered a disabling injury four weeks ago, as I described  in "...and He walks with me..." from February 26, 2009 (or you can scroll down 4 posts to read), I realized that I had been given a gift.  In those moments, in bed with the Bible Lesson and the story of Joseph, I saw that this was not a challenge to be overcome...no matter how aggressively the pain screamed...but an opportunity to savor a journey.  I can honestly say that I have not been anxious since that moment when "And the Lord was with Joseph..." reminded me that I was not a broken mortal in bed writhing in pain, but the child of God blessed with space to cherish time with her divine Parent.  From that first moment of happiness, in just being "with Him," I have felt completely at peace.

Whether in bed, on crutches, hobbling to the kitchen or crawling up the stairs to wake the girls for school, I have been happy and patient...grateful for each quieter, slower moment to savor my relationship with Him.

So, this is my moment of grace.  I have loved every second of this journey with Him.  My friend was right.  And I am so grateful for the opportunity to remember his wisdom and to be aware of the gift when it came again.

I think this may be what Mary Baker Eddy was referring to when she said, "The very circumstance, which your suffering sense deems wrathful and afflictive, Love can make an angel entertained unawares. Then thought gently whispers: "Come hither!" We are all called into closer union with Him...given opportunities for quiet time alone with Love...for nestling more deeply into Her arms. It is only our suffering SENSE of things that would identify those experiences as wrathful and afflictive. Or, at least, this is what I believe I am glimpsing...and experiencing...with more clarity of late. But isn't this what is "oh, so lovely" about spirituality...it is so uniquely experiential...so completely individual.

My experience has been sweet...for me. The crutches are almost ready to be returned to the nursing facility.  I will soon be more fully engaged in the day-to-day logistics of work and family, and I will enjoy the freedom of renewed flexibility and strength.  But this time I will not be left with a feeling of regret for my impatience and anxiety.  I have felt none.  I have been happy.  I have cherished every single moment of this journey.  I have savored every drop of the Word, treasured every moment alone with Him, and am now ready to go forward refreshed and happy...still happy.

Thank you Father, for spending so much time with me...I am grateful...and happy to be your loved daughter, When I look in the mirror, I know that it's true...I have spent a little more time with You.

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"And He walks with me..."

"...He speaks and the sound of his voice
is so sweet the birds hush their singing_
And the melody that he gave to me
within my heart is ringing...
_
And he walks with me,
and He talks with me,
And He tells me that I am His own
And the joy we share
as we tarry there
None other has ever known..."
-     Traditional gospel

A friend reminded me of this much loved gospel song today and I haven't been able to let it go.  My favorite version of this song was recorded by Christian lay-pastor, missionary, and pianist, John Wells.  The depth of love he felt for his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, poured through the microphone and onto tape one rainy November day over 25 years ago. I felt as if I were in the presence a disciple as I sat on the stairs listening to him singing from behind the large glass window that separated the control room and the recording studio.

Since I don't have a post-able version of John's recording, here is a link to Alan Jackson's performance of "In the Garden." It come's as close as anything I've seen in communicating domething of John's quiet passion for these verses.

I've had a number of "in the garden" moments with Christ recently.  The latest was so moving I thought I'd share it. 

One evening I severely injured my ankle in a fall and instead of the pain and swelling subsiding after a long night of prayer, by dawn I found myself unable to even shift the position of my leg in bed without coming close to passing out. 

My husband was working in a distant city, I had school age children to care for, and a puppy who needed to be taken out on leash a number of times each day.  I was terrified by how alone and helpless I felt. Our children were cooperative, but neither was old enough to drive themselves to school, and to be honest,  I wasn't sure how I would cope with the searing pain one more second. 

I called a dear friend who, without question, came and picked up our puppy to care for at her home.  She also offered to get the girls to school and I accepted.  Once the girls were off to school, and I knew the pup was being cared for, I collapsed.  I had contacted another friend to pray with me, but I was not feeling any genuine peace of mind myself.  I was so tired and sleep had eluded me through a long night of crawling to the bathroom on my hands and knees, and up the stairs to wake the girls for school in the morning.

I felt as if I had been praying continuously, but the screaming voice of "what if" had me terrified.  I couldn't stop wondering how I would care for my children.  The friend who I knew was praying with me stopped by later that morning and I felt safe enough to let down my false pride and fall apart. Her kindness helped immensely, but after she left I was back to square one.  I was frightened, in pain, and alone. 

I opened the Full-text Edition of the Christian Science Quarterly Bible Lesson lying next to me in bed. I was prepared to guzzle "living waters"...inspirational statements and stories, from the Bible and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures...like a thirsty man crossing a parched desert.  The first statement my eyes fell upon were right at the top of the page:

"And the Lord was with Joseph..."

Something about those words poured over, and through, me like warm honey.  I realized in that very moment that this statement was true for me too...right then and there.  "And the Lord was with Kate..."  This was all that mattered.  It didn't matter how long I was in that bed, or that I was tense with pain and fear..."The Lord was with me..."

Suddenly I was happy.  Really, genuinely, truly happy.  Happy in a way that I don't think I have ever felt before.  A happiness unlike any I'd ever known. 

Knowing that "..the Lord was with..." me, my children, my family, my husband, my friends, my neighbors, all the "little children of the world, little boys and little girls..." made me happy.  It filled me up, it radiated from a core of light deep inside of me, it permeated every molecule of my being.  It was enough. I didn't need anyone to pray for me...I really didn't even need to pray for myself.  I knew the truth that I had God right there with me in a very visceral way.  I  could feel it.  It was so clear to me.  All that was left to do or think was, "Thank you Lord..."

I was no longer afraid...at all.  I was at peace with where God had placed me that day.  I was happy in bed, because obviously that was where God wanted me to be.  If it wasn't where He wanted me, I knew...without a shadow of a doubt...that I would be somewhere else.

It sounds so simplistic, but well, it was.  That happiness was bigger than the pain.  It was more overwhelming than the fear.  It was greater than all the "what if"s that tried to scream their way into my being...to penetrate my peace...but just couldn't get past the radiating light and happiness that seemed to, quite literally, eradicate the darkness when it even tried to approach.

Did the pain stop right away and was I walking later that day?  No.  But I stopped caring about "when" or "how".  I had crutches. I could get to the bathroom and, more importantly, I had "the Lord with me." I had wonderful friends who would love my children, puppy...and me.  I had a husband who would keep me laughing at myself, and who loved me just the way I was. I was fine.  Better than fine.  "The Lord was with me...Kate." I started loving this very sweet and intimate journey with Him. I was happy.  I still am.

so grateful...
Kate

"September grass is the sweetest kind..."

"Well, the sun's not so hot
in the sky today
And you know,
I can see summertime slipping on
Slippin' away
A few more geese are gone,
a few more leaves turning red
But the grass is as soft
as a feather in a featherbed…"

- James Taylor "September Grass"

Today was one of those September Grass days.  The sun wasn't so hot, the air was cool, and the sky was as blue as a robin's egg. 

I was thinking about this all day in light of a comment Suzette shared in our worship circle last night.  Suzette is from Maine.  Ahh… Well not so quick, she and her children have recently relocated to St. Louis.  She explained that some folks have questioned why she would have left a wonderful home in a beautiful coastal village for a Midwestern city. 

Suzette went on to share that she and her family had felt divinely guided along each step of this relocation, and how they had experienced prayer-based consensus regarding their motives…and the logistics…of their move.

Then she told a story about a friend who, when living in a prairie state, learned to look at the wide blue western sky as his "ocean"….and how on a drive through suburban St. Louis that afternoon she had realized that her new city was just as "beautiful" as her previous location.

I loved this story.  I have often lost this chord of deep satisfaction with the current geographical details of where we live…usually after a trip home to Colorado…and bemoaned the fact that I am "here" and not "there".   So, this afternoon I decided to go in search of my own beautiful St. Louis.  Jeff's schedule included helping coach the girls' soccer team and I chose to tag along. 

Once there, I grabbed my CrazyCreek ground chair, my car quilt and my books and headed to a sun-drenched patch of grass under the wide canopy of a huge oak tree.  I scooched myself into a V-shaped space between the knees of two large roots and leaned my head against the warm bark of her trunk. 

The air was cool enough that I needed to tuck my quilt around my knees and wrap my large scarf around my shoulders but it was glorious.  Dappled sunlight fell through the leaves and onto the pages of my book.  Its warmth sank deeper and deeper through the layers of scarf and quilt until I felt it to the core of my bones.  I closed my eyes and let the golden late-afternoon light bathe my face in a flush of sunset pink.

The sounds of coaches, my husband, daughters, and their friends softly reminded me of all that I am blessed with.  The grass between my fingers was so soft to the touch, that I couldn't  help but recall Mary Baker Eddy's statement:

"Love, redolent with unselfishness, bathes all in beauty and light.
The grass beneath our feet silently exclaims, "The meek shall
inherit the earth." The modest arbutus sends her sweet breath
to heaven. The great rock givesshadow and shelter. The sunlight
glints from the church-dome, glances into the prison-cell, glides
into the sick-chamber, brightens the flower, beautifies the
landscape, blesses the earth."

I felt like I was in the holiest of sanctuaries.  Right here in the middle of St. Louis.  Trees, grass, sky, air, roots, shadow, shelter…the sounds of my family and friends…those things are right here.  Right where God has sent me to be…today. 

I am loving St. Louis, and I am loving autumn.  Something in me begins to quiet when I can feel the sun on my face through cooler, crisper air.  There is a gentling to my inner wrestling…the voice is more kind,  more full of mercy and encouragement.   It is almost as if this inner voice knows that we are heading towards Thanksgiving and a time of harvest…the time for gathering the substance of a tare-scattered growing season.  It is almost as if there is foreknowledge that we are, indeed, swelling towards a season of Christ-birthing in our lives.  Whatever it is, I am grateful to have discovered it right here in the Midwest this year.

"Delicious autumn!
My very soul is wedded to it,
And if I were a bird
I would fly about the earth
Seeking the successive autumns."
- George Eliot

Kate

Photo credit: Dwight Oyer 2003

"The promise that guides me..."

"...Your love is the promise that guides me
All of the days of my life..."

This line from Dan Fogelberg's "Missing You" has been playing through my heart for the last few days.  For many years this song has been all about the relationship between two people who love and miss one another.  But this week I have been thinking about this line in a new way.  For me, today, it is all about the love that divine Love, God, puts in my heart as a promise of His ever-present direction and guidance in my life.

Okay, so I had it made.  But I have skipped to the middle of this story...let me start again...

My dear, funny, sit-in-Starbucks-and-laugh-yourself-silly, smart, kick-in-the-butt, hold-you-accountable friend Jill got married last summer to her childhood sweetheart…I couldn't have been happier to know that she was cherished and adored by this precious man.  But, he lived in Iowa.  Iowa!?!?!?  This was not good.  It took us 7 hours (one way!) to drive up for the wedding.  I was going to miss her terribly.  Then she told me the other good news…that she would continue to teach at the community college here each week and would be coming down on Monday and staying through Thursday evening.  We could still meet at Starbucks once a week to connect and catch-up.  So, it wasn't really going to be that bad after all.   Well, at least not for me.  I wasn't making that commute, I wasn't going to be away from my husband four days (and nights) a week.  I wasn't going to have to coordinate raising two still-in-school age children from 7 hours away. 

As summer turned into Fall I started really looking forward to our visits.  I had missed her laugh…and her wisdom.  Each week those visits left me feeling like a girl.  We had a blast.  The hours flew by and I felt refreshed.  But it was becoming more and more obvious with every visit that this was not the very best situation for Jill and her family.  She loved her job at the college, but needed to be with her husband and children.  It was clear that a job near home would be a perfect solution. 

I joined her in scanning postings for a great job in Northern Iowa.  I prayed with all my heart that she would be seen as the perfect candidate.  And she was!  Just before Thanksgiving she was selected for a wonderful position that would eliminate the 14 hour round trip commute and would put her home each night with her family.
I was thrilled. 

What???

Then it hit me.  I was THRILLED!!!!  Really thrilled for her.  I wasn't bummed, depressed or heart-broken that I wouldn't see her every week.  I was so happy for my friend.  So happy for her family.

My love for her had over-ridden any selfish desire to have her here each week so that I could enjoy her company…to laugh and talk with her.  It was, once again,  a powerful indication of God, as Love, working in my heart…causing me to desire, truly desire, what was best for someone else. 

I love these reminders.

When someone asks me how or why it is that I am so sure that there really is a God, these are the kinds of things that I think about…and share.  I'm not as inclined to talk about the physical, emotional, financial or relationship healings I have experienced and witnessed, however powerful those experiences may have been.  No, I am more likely to share an experience where God, as Love, has so filled my heart with unselfishness, over-ridden self-interest, and has made me WANT, really want something good for someone else that it goes against all that is "me" oriented. Because it is in these moments that I am reminded that I am, at my core, just plainly and simply, his child, a good person…the instrument of His love.  That He has the power to govern my heart, to steer it with this love.

At the end of her, very brief, "Daily Prayer", Mary Baker Eddy encourages us to pray:

"…And may Thy Word
enrich the affections of all mankind
and govern them."

God is enriching my affections, my love for others, and this is the way he guides and governs every moment of my life.  This is how he moves each of us towards our purpose, establishes our mission, and defines our legacy…each day. This is why I can trust Him with my heart…because He has shown me over and over again that He has the power to make me want something that it would make no sense for me to want if I were only a self-defined, self-determined, self-protective, self-ish mortal.  The desire to parent, to unite with another in marriage, to serve others, to work out a relationship problem…it could only be this larger hand of Love guiding my heart so completely away from self. 

This love is, for me, the promise that guides me…all of the days of my life….
Kate

"I won't grow up..."

"I won't grow up,
(I won't grow up)
I don't want to go to school.
(I don't want to go to school)
Just to learn to be a parrot,
(Just to learn to be a parrot)
And repeat a silly rule.
(And repeat a silly rule)…"
- from "Peter Pan"

But this song from Peter Pan was not my anthem.  I never stopped thinking about growing up.   "When I grow up I want to be…" was the prelude to most of my thoughts as a child.  I was in a hurry to grow up.  I didn't want to be a child.  I wanted to be a teacher, a lawyer, a professor….anything but a child.  Peter Pan's sentiments above, were as far from my dreams as Never-Never Land was from a London flat.

I wanted to go to school.  I loved school.  And more strangely, at least to most of my friends, I love all the silly rules.  I thrived on them.  The more rules…the better.  Rules were something I could count on.  Rules were reliable and I liked things that were reliable.  I liked being able to know that if I brought my homework in on time I would have earned privileges.  Privileges like getting to play chess during recess.  I liked knowing that if I waited patiently with my hand raised…I would be called on.    I was a rules junkie.

This served me well through 30+ years of grade school, middle and high school, college, university…and as a teacher and principal myself.   But as a wife and mother…well, not so much.  I didn't know how to play.  I didn't know how to let a day unfold before me.  I woke up each morning with the day's schedule etched behind my eyelids.  This worked as long as my daughters were….infants. Feedings at 6, 11, and 2…baths at 10, naps at 10:30 and 2:30 were perfectly suited to my matrix-like mode of operation.  But once they became little girls I was lost.  Thank goodness my children were creative and seemed to know, instinctively, how to run and jump and make noise.  These activities did not seem to be a part of my DNA…unless of course they were cast in the framework of a ballet studio or an art class. 

But I got away with my peculiarities…sort of.  By the time our oldest daughter was a toddler I was deeply involved in my work as a spiritual healer.  Wasn't it "reasonable" that I would need peace, quiet…order.  Is it any wonder that the career paths I had "chosen" were ones where I could demand the kind of rules, systems, and schedules that made me feel most "in my skin".   Why, I would ask myself (and anyone else who would listen) didn't even Mary Baker Eddy herself have a penchant for "strict order and neatness", "close attention to detail", and "simplified and systematic way of life"?   Wasn't every Christian Scientist aware of the pin cushion story.  For those of you who aren't…here is the Cliff Notes version:  Mrs. Eddy was so aware of the orderliness in her household that once she entered her office and noticed that the pincushion on her desk did not have the pins placed in the right order and proceeded to correct her staff for not placing them properly.   I'm sure she had her reasons.  And I'm sure her's were motivated by a deep spiritual sense of Principle.

But I can't tell you that mine always were…or  how often I referred to this account (and what I assumed her intentions were) as a justification for my own obscene demands for rules, schedules, and of course, neatness.

Okay…enough about where I've been. 

This summer I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a "child" of God.  I haven't found a single place, in the Bible or in Mrs. Eddy's writings,  where it talks about the virtues of being an "adult of God"…heck, I can't even find one reference to man as "God's grown-up".  So I have been…and this is more of a stretch than you can imagine…trying to express more child-likeness.  To be more spontaneous, playful, open to change, and eager for adventure.  And not just when I am at camp…but all the time.

As a start, for the first time in their lives our twins are spending their summer (the weeks that they are not away at camp) home with us…all day…while I work.  In the past they have been in a local school-sponsored daycamp each summer (after they came home from camp-camp) so that I could have the peace, quiet and order that I felt I needed.  But this summer I decided I could learn from them about inventiveness, creativity, spontaneity, and joy. I could learn more about what it means to be a child of God.  I am learning to play…to be flexible while I stay focused on God's presence in my life and in the lives of those who have called for help.  I have found that my heart is purer, my responses are free-er, and my thoughts are quicker…more flexible, orderly, and agile under their tutelage as child mentors.

I am learning to be playful and quiet, orderly and spontaneous…and yes, I am still obsessively neat…but the colors are more childlike and the songs that I am singing in my heart are more joyful and sweet.

Today this is the song I woke up singing.  It is one that Clara and Emma taught me last night in the dark after I finished singing them their lullabyes.  It is a song they learned at camp:

"Happiness flows in a circular motion
Floating like a little boat upon the sea
Everyone is part of everything, everywhere
You can be happy if you let yourself be
Happiness flows
Happiness flows
Happiness flows
Happiness flows!"
- Unknown

Call me if you would like to know the tune…I will sing it to you!

With childlike joy,
Kate