"the honest cries of breaking hearts..."

"We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody.
Beautiful the mess we are,
the honest cries of breaking hearts
are better than an hallelujah..."

Disclaimer: This is my love letter to my church family....I know that we each find the worship community that best meets us where we are, and walks us another step forward in our spiritual journey. I am just so deeply grateful to have discovered a circle of fellowship that stirs me to an even deeper desire to commune with God, and to serve others.

I don't know that I can say what is in my heart any better than Amy Grant's "Better than an Hallelujah."

I felt the power of its message resonating in our Wednesday church service the other night. But, in truth, it's always there. I never fail to feel it in a friend's unexpected kindness, in the deep collective sigh that fills our worship space when we surrender social reserve, for the touch of something unspoken. I feel it in that extra moment of silence following the Lord's Prayer, in the voice of a visitor as she tells her story, in the soft April breeze that carries our music onto the sidewalk, in the thoughtfulness that characterizes our circle of fellowship. I feel it in the profound respect I see expressed for each participant's gifts...without partiality, or any sense of hierarchy. I feel it in our shared laughter, and our shared tears.

We are small in numbers, but the genuine love, trust, and compassion I feel, each time I cross the threshold of our little urban storefront church, is always "better than an hallelujah..." for me. It is as if we truly see ourselves...and each other...as childlike, innocent, and full of joy when we are in one another's company.

"The tears of shame
for what's been done,
a silence when the words won't come
are better than an hallelujah...
better than a church bell ringing,
better than a choir singing..."

Sometimes, when we reach the end of a service, I feel like I've actually witnessed the Master himself restoring lost hope, lifting the broken, forgiving the adulteress, ministering from the cross. There is such love - among us - for his life, his example...his message of self-sacrifice, service, and charity.

In our sweet sanctuary, I've discovered all manner of Love...kindness illuminating even the darkest corner, mercy perfuming the air, charity opening wide the prison doors, and humility feeding the famished affections. I've seen it, and, more importantly, I've experienced it. I have watched one mother comforting another, a child holding the hand of a lonely senior, a homeless visitor sitting in front of a plate piled high with the bounty from a potluck feast...while he feeds our hunger to give. It's in the naked candor of heartfelt sharing, eye contact across a quiet room, the respect for honest questioning. And it's better than an hallelujah...sometimes.

In this sacred space, I have felt the words of the hymn:

"Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven..."

And I can tell you, with every fiber of my being that, for me, it is better than an hallelujah...all the time.

I am so grateful for my church family. It is exactly what I need. I feel like a happy child there. For me, it is home. One that is always filled with Love.

Ever grateful...

Kate

Something Simple

"Something simple's all I ask for
Something simple's all I need
And when I find it I will surely know
Something simple shouldn't be
this hard to fall on me
Something simple's all I ask for
all I need…"
- Mary Huckins

Sometimes a song will come into my life so serendipitously that I am certain I have felt the breath of God on the back of my neck and I smile in recognition of His touch.   So it is with Mary Huckins' "Something Simple."  Recorded with her band Dakota Blonde on the 2000 release of their first CD of the same title, I hear it calling me home to a place of uncluttered stillness, a purpose defined by silence,  and an unshakeable inner peace.

The "ac" words that once defined success for me…accomplishment, accreditation, accretion, accrual, acclaim, acculturation, accumulation, acquisition, acceptance…are no longer able to push and prod me into disingenuous behavior.   There was a time, not too long ago, when "acceptance" alone…at the expense of all else… seemed more vital than living with emotional integrity and courage.   But these "howling of the hounds" words that once snapped at my heels while I ran towards a goal I never took the time to examine, are now nothing more than the impotent yipping of toothless suggestions which would have kept me running forever.   When I stopped and turned to face them head-on, they cowered in the light of what my heart really longed for….something simple.

I realized that an hour in the sun with my own thoughts was much more satisfying than a movie or even a great book.  That holding my daughters through the night while they slept…hearing them breathe and watching their eyelids flutter and fall silent as dreams washed across their slumber…was more joy than I could ever have imagined when the applause and admiration of others seemed to be a goal worth achieving.

The other night my daughter  called at 1am from South Africa (8am her time) just to say "Happy Mother's Day" at the beginning of her day.  How could she know that those few minutes of hearing her voice, still heavy with sleep, would be more precious than platinum or diamonds or gold.  Just a moment spent with  the sweet sound of her yawning, from 12,000-mile-away, was a gift from God.

"…Well I think it would be fine
just to sit awhile with you
and let the timeless hours slip right by
I don't often let them go
without trying to hang on
But something simple here
is what I long for…"

I'm learning that a walk in the park with our children on a Sunday afternoon…watching them swing as high as the clouds or kick a stone from the History Museum to the stoplight, hearing our son laugh when his sisters put an ice cube down his back or getting a call from our oldest daughter... placed in the middle of her grown-up San Francisco Sunday…would be more sweet than chocolate and add more fragrance to my life than roses.

"…In the middle of my silence
well I know there's something more
than those around me cannot lend my way
For they too are in this searching
in the silence, in the noise
In the middle of my search
for something more…" 

A beam of sunlight across our bed in the morning through the stained glass transoms, or a three-word prayer shared by a fellow healer who has answered the phone when my heart needs comfort…are more wealth than I could have ever imagined…

Sometimes when we are stripped of all the sparkly garments of accomplishment and praise...garments we once thought made us worthy of good...and we find ourselves standing naked with our true desires, we can feel the sweet breath of God on the back of our necks and we realize that it really is something simple we always wanted.

"…Something simple's all I ask for
Something simple's all I need
And when I find it I will surely know
Something simple shouldn't be
this hard to fall on me
Something simple's all I ask for
all I need..

…Breathe into me
Breath into me…please."
- Mary Huckins

with Love,
Kate

Heroes

It seems, these days, that many of my heroes are quite a bit younger than I am.  I realized this one morning when I was feeling decidedly uninspired and one of my Sunday School students' Instant Messaging tone rang through on my computer letting me know that she wanted to chat.  I pushed myself out of the comfy chair in my office and shuffled over to my desk, thinking of how generous I would be in having this “chat” with her instead sitting in the sun like a cat and praying about the depression-like feelings that were again descending around my shoulders like a damp fog along the ocean on a summer evening.   But was I brought up short. 

This 19 year old Mother Teresa was just "being in touch"  to let me know that she had been praying for the world and God told her to check up on me.  Check up on me????   My first reaction was how bold...here was a teenager checking up on me, her Sunday School teacher and the Christian Science practitioner she herself often called for healing through prayer.  But my second response was awe.  At her age I would no more have had the courage to follow through on that message from God…much less praying for the world before I went to school.  I swallowed deeply and decided to be honest with her.  Thank you, I began, I needed to be woken up from the mesmerism of dark thoughts and personal doubts seeping into my day by her tender care.  My young hero offered to pray for me and within about 24 hours I was not only free from some of the depression-like symptoms I had been struggling with off and on for about a year, but I began to find some spiritual clarity in direction about difficult decisions that I had been struggling with and avoiding for some years.  This young woman taught me much that day about Christian courage.

Another young hero is my friend, Dee.  Dee is a nickname given to young man whose large family moved to the United States from Africa in order to enroll he and his siblings in a school where character education is still being pioneered a century after it was first founded.  Dee, although an excellent student and athlete who would have been eagerly received at a number of colleges and universities following his graduation from high school, chose to enlist in the United States Army rather than accept scholarship and grants that he was extended in order to help fund his younger siblings education and assist in supporting his family.  Dee is a man of great humility.  A man who would never "put himself out there" and yet his integrity, humility, strength and grace were recognized by his superiors during his basic and specialized training and he was recommended for a commission to West Point based on these qualities alone.  Six months earlier Dee wasn't even a citizen of the United States, today his is serving this country in Iraq while waiting for his orders to “show up” for his first term at West Point.  When he called from Fort Hood Texas to let me know that he had received his commission he asked me to be discreet in sharing his news as he didn't want to seem less than humble in speaking about this extraordinary unfoldment of good in his life.

Heroes aren’t always people we look up to…sometimes they are people we haven’t even had the grace to look at…who…for whatever reason…become central in our lives.

The Good Samaritan represents that kind of a hero for me.  The man who is left wounded on the side of the road probably wouldn’t have chosen the Samaritan as his good buddy, but he never had a greater model of human heroism than the man who only days before would have been a stranger and a foreigner to him…a nameless face on a rocky path.

So…today as I go about my day…I am going to look for heroes in unlikely places.  I will try to listen to a child with more expectation that this may be the very voice of God in my life…and maybe, just maybe I will hear that message of forgiveness, mercy, or tender care that my heart is crying out for…or maybe I will be given a reason to smile…a hug on the run….a offer to take my hand as we cross the street …these too would be the gifts of a young hero to the broken-hearted or the wounded…

Where will you find a hero today?







K.