"Lord, remind me..."

"When children play on Christmas day
and snow is flung,

When I feel I haven't had a friend
since I was young,

When I'm feeling tired of myself
and everyone,

Lord remind me,
Lord remind me..."

I was looking for an Amy Grant song to keynote an earlier post when I stumbled upon this exquisite song by Jon and Valerie Guerra on Amy's Facebook page.

Sometimes a song comes along that begs its own post, "Lord Remind Me" is one of those songs.

The holiday season -- from Thanksgiving to the year's end -- has always been my favorite time of year. I cherish long-held traditions and nurture new ones that have found purchase in the sweet soil of our family home. The tree goes up the day before Thanksgiving, White Christmas. Little Women, The Holiday, and Love, Actually fill the screen that weekend. Then comes the Christmas music -- too many favorites to note. 

But my favorite "tradition" comes between December 1st and the 25th, when I pray with each of the twenty-four questions in the chapter, "Recapitulation" from Mary Baker Eddy's textbook for spiritual healing, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures as my version of an advent calendar. One question deeply pondered, each day, as we move towards Christmas -- and every year it transforms me.

But this year, although I have dutifully carried out each of these traditions -- as well as a few more -- I have felt a bit detached. Perhaps it's because its the first year that none of the children were here for me to lasso into choosing the tree, watching White Christmas, or baking pies.  And although I have felt a bit sad, I wasn't really doing anything about it. I was aware that the tree went up too quickly and I was alone in the kitchen while I baked cookies and listened to White Christmas, but I chalked it up to our version of empty nest syndrome after over three decades of day-to-day parenting.

That was when I fell upon "Lord Remind Me," and fell to my knees. The true meaning of Christmas came alive in me. This wasn't about trees and cookies, films and carols. It wasn't even about traditions long-loved. It was about something timeless and humbling. It was about remembering that nothing was impossible to God. It was about forgiveness and healing, about kings that kneeled before a baby, and a boy who trusted angels. It was about a girl who said, "yes," and the message of "on earth peace, good will to men."

Is there anything we need more today? Is there any message more timely, or a time more hungry for this message?

As Jon and Valerie sing with such reverence and humility:

"when I hear the news,
and hear another war's begun,
and I wonder if God's
on the side f either one,
I hear bullet, nail, or handcuff
you bore all of them,
and in the light
my heart's as dark as anyone's.

Lord remind me, Lord remind me
that the shepherds head the angels
break the silence in the field,
that the wise men found a baby
and they could not help but kneel

Lord remind me, cause its Christmas
and I want to remember..." 

And I do want to remember. I want to feel the power of this story drive me to my knees. I want to feel it change my heart and break through any sense of brittle self-certainty and icy indifference that might have gathered, like frost, on the tender places where I want to feel the heartbreak of my brothers and sisters in Aleppo, or Chicago, or Washington, DC.

There is a sweet, holy cry for the Christ to enter the manger of our hearts in this song:

"Tell me, how He loves me,
tell me, how he wants me,
tell me the story
like I've never heard before..." 

This is the part that broke through to the softest, deepest part of me. The words split me open and love for Him spilled from every part of my being. To think what he gave. To remember what he did. To know his love -- it is everything.

"...and I'll sing it
like the angels sing it,
with my whole heart sing it,
to Him who's worth
a thousand songs and more..." 

Hymns and carols came alive in me. My heart was an angel's heart singing from the stars. I walked out into the cold night and sang for him who loves us so. I lifted my voice in praise, and hope, and humble adoration for the child who brought kings to their knees, and for the man who would be king of kings.

I sang through tears of repentance and joy:

"Glory in the highest,
glory in the lowest,
glory that shines when nothing
seems to shine at all

Glory in the highest,
glory in the lowest
glory, Immanuel..." 

And isn't this the message of messages, "Immanuel..." which is translated, "God with us..." So tonight, I raised my voice to the heavens and sang, "Glory in the highest, glory in the lowest, glory Immanuel..."  Then, a flock of geese rose from the lake, circled above, and -- I like to believe -- carried that message in their own voices to the far corners of the earth.


offered with Love,

Kate

"I need a silent night..."

"...I need a silent night,
a holy night
To hear an angel voice
through the chaos and the noise
I need a midnight clear
a little peace right here
To end this crazy day
with a Silent Night..."
- Amy Grant

Last night Jeff and I "hit the mall."  It is not something I do well.  It is not something I do at all.  I am not proud of my general aversion to all things "mall."  So last night I decided to find God in the mall. 

I started with this Amy Grant song, "I Need a Silent Night," and went looking for a manger.  I went in, figuratively, on my knees.  I entered that same Christmas musak-saturated world, but this time without a clock ticking in my head, counting down the moments until I could bolt from the glittery box filled with "shoppers and their treasures," and escape into a spiritual place of stillness and peace.

And you know what...it was there.  It started with our posture.  I wasn't clutching my list, and Jeff's arm, as though it was my weapon of defense from slick advertising and pushy salespersons, and he was my protector. 

Yes, I had my list in my pocket, and my husband by my side, but this time I used my list as a starting point on a treasure hunt...not for things, but for kindness.  And I encouraged Jeff to go off to the food court and grab a quick dinner while I found what we needed...since he hadn't had dinner yet. 

As I became one with the stream of life flowing from store to store, I started to look for God.  And it didn't take long.  I immediately caught sight of a mom on her knees comforting a child, a teenager sharing her hot pretzel with a little brother, a salesperson chasing down the walkway after a customer who'd left her credit card behind following a purchase. 

I had no idea where to go...which shop or kiosk...to find any of the items on my very short list, but I knew that I could find God...anywhere.   And so I knew, that no matter what, it would be a successful trip because I would find what I was really looking for...the coincidence of divinity in humanity.  As I quietly strolled past one shop after another, I noticed a young sales associate refolding sweaters and jeans on a table near the front of her store.  She was peaceful.  Her face was almost beatific.  I could hear her humming, "Do you see what I see?"  I was drawn into her space. 

She asked me if she could help me.  I looked around and discovered that I was actually in a store for young teens.  I pulled out my list, and within ten minutes I had purchased all but two of the items I'd come to the mall for.  By the time I found my husband in the food court, I'd seen God in action twenty-two more times.  And when I reached him, he'd only finished half of his meal. 

I left my coat and my bag (one store, one large bag) and walked to the store nearest the food court.  Within five feet of the entrance I found my last two items.  I was done. 

When I was finished making those purchases...smiling!?!?...and returned to the food court, Jeff was ready to leave. 

Our stroll back to the other end of the very long mall was peaceful, blessed, and filled with grace.  We saw couples patient with one another...and their children, helpful clerks, kind mall guards, and the divine choreography of thousands of "dancers" moving through narrow spaces without incident. 

At the last minute we came upon a kiosk where we made our only last minute, "surprise" purchase...and one that was full of wisdom, economy, and brotherly love.  It was a holy hour...well actually, only about 45 minutes.

Once again I learned that I "get" the experience I go looking for...or as the hymn says,  I will find the Christ when I let my own "...heart prepare Him room."  Even at the mall.

Tonight we will have an hour of stillness during our mid-week church service.  But it won't be a respite from the mall...but an extension of the manger we found there.

wishing you each....a silent night, a holy night, a midnight clear...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"...the sleeping child you're holding..."

"Mary, did you know...
That your baby boy has come to make you new?
...This child that you've delivered
Will soon deliver you..."
-Greene/Lowry

Last year, about this time, I wrote a post with this Kathy Matthea version of "Mary, Did You Know?" as the keynote... and if you do nothing more today on this blog than listen to this song, I will know your heart has been touched.  Please don't miss its blessing.  I love it so much that I am now convinced it will show up every Christmas...along with a few others that continue to bring their spiritual gifts each year. This season, I share it as the prelude to a poem. 

I am continuing to learn that when we open our hearts, manger-like...humble, simple, still, and expectant...to our Father's plan, the Christ is new-born within us.  "The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.  The lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the Lamb..." Do you know that this sleeping child you are holding within you, is "the Great I AM"

"A Manger Within"

your quaking heart
can know a deep, unfathomable peace
even when all looks lost
and hope seems like a taunting
a haunting
a place where disappointment and doubt
lay in wait
around any
and every corner
ready to pounce and pierce
the soft places
the inner regions
the tender dreams
of the soul

but Love walks in
with all Its quiet Self-certainty
and announces
"I am that I am"
you cannot run from what "I am"
"the spiritual sense of truth that must be gained,
before Truth can be understood"

your heart is Mine
your life is Mine
your love is Mine
you cannot take it back
you cannot take control
you cannot put the shattered pieces
back into a shape that is safe
shelve it all away
in tissue paper
with the old star
the fragile Christmas ornaments
and sigh with relief
that
for another year...it is still intact

I have taken you apart for My purpose
torn away the shredded tatters
you hugged so close
I have dressed you in a bridal garment
pure as driven snow
on an empty, endless beach
along the coast of Maine
I have scattered your false convenient peace
down the abandoned church steps
like rice
raining on your hearts
rending the veil of tolerance
revealing the face of Love

within the stillness of a sanctuary heart
I have wed you to Me...to My presence in your life
I am asking you to trust Me
with your eternity
with your intuition
with your heart and soul and mind
let Me be your God
let Me prepare you a place
as I have prepared your heart
breaking it wide open
ready to receive
a babe

this will not look easy
it may not make sense
it may leave you feeling naked

but what have you learned from a girl
visited by angels
espoused to a man
great with child
giving birth in a manger

sometimes what I have planned
does not make sense
to hearts that need to know
to minds
that need to have it all in columns
and rows
and pews

but if you will let Me have your heart
like she did
I will show you a miracle
a star will lead
angels will sing
kings will bring gifts
shepherds will quake

and you
may learn
to trust
Me
...with all your heart

give it to Me
and I will fill it
with
something
Wonderful,
Mighty,
full of promise...
the Prince of Peace
...or a girl in a manger.

with an expectant heart, always...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

I just found this version of "Mary, Did You Know?" as sung by lyricist, Mark Lowrey. And as much as I absolutely love Kathy Matthea's version, I am always interested in seeing how a songwriter interprets his/her own lyrics.


[photo credit:  Lisa Redfern and Lydia Day (daughter of Doug & Diana) by Randall Williams 2009]

'Breath of Heaven"

"...Do you wonder
As you watch my face
If a wiser one, should have had my place
But I offer-all I am
For the mercy-of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me...

Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven..."
- Amy Grant

As we move into this Christmas season, it just seems so important to keep in mind what we are really celebrating,  and how relevant it is in our lives today.  To celebrate the birth of a baby in a manger, without an appreciation for  his mother's journey towards that manger...and where it would lead us all...would be heartbreaking to me. 

"Breath of Heaven," was written by Amy Grant, but the version sung by Sara Groves, tears me apart.  The clip in the first link is Amy's performance and the video sticks to the nativity story, but the second video, paired with Sara's extraordinary recording, although a bit rough and dramatic, underscores the human passion and pathos of the larger story.  Both are moving.  I love them each for different reasons.  I do think that Sara's vocals are as hauntingly beautiful in this context, as Barber's Adagio for Strings is in the context of the crucifixion...but that's another post.

I had been listening to these recordings before church tonight, and after the service, I was talking with a friend about our work as spiritual healers...care-givers, practitioners, nurses, hymn singers, writers, painters, and prophets...those who hope to bless the human family with "crumbs of comfort from Christ's table, be it with song, sermon, or science."  And I realized, that every day, in our own way, we live this story.  We are surprised by the humble privilege of this holy work.  We know that we never could have chosen this path for ourselves, but are gratitude-sent into a life of service to our Father-Mother God by a holy calling. 

I don't know one spiritual healer who thinks he, or she, is "all that." Not one that enters this work through the portal of pride, self-certainty, or ambition. It is a deep hunger to serve Him that sings through our hearts. And the lovely, humbling truth is, that we know, with all our being, that anyone, and everyone, can do this work.  The fullness of love required to see the Christ in another, is deeply rooted in every man, woman and child.  Devoting our lives to this work, we, like Mary and Joseph, sleep with angels who whisper a calling, and a promise, in the dark.  And upon awakening, we must be willing, every day, to open ourselves to the birth of something fresh, unexpected, and deeply moving within our hearts.  We are asked by our divine Employer to surrender the body of our lives to His purpose for us. 

Like that young couple, we walk through the desert of human hopes (usually our own), to find that there is little room for us in the busy-ness of a "world as cold as ice," a village that measures worth by the hierarchy of accomplishment, accumulation, and acclaim. We turn from its beckoning doorway and search out the silent welcome of a manger, and in its humble, simple, stillness something new, and healing, and transformative is born in us.  Angels hover and kings kneel before this babe of Christian healing.  And we are amazed that we are there...among wise men and shepherds...to witness the advent of His gift "on earth peace, good will to men," and the gospel message of, "The kingdom of heaven is within you."

This happens over and over again in the life of a spiritual healer...every spiritual healer.  Our work demands a manger...not a busy inn, a charming bed & breakfast, or a sophisticated hotel.  Our music is the simple song of angels...hymns, gospels, lullabies, rather than an exclusive black-tie performance.  Our companions are publicans and sinners.  Our highest vantage point is not found in looking out from a throne, a pedestal, or a penthouse...but the lonely summit of a cross.   We are most grounded and stable when we are on our knees...washing feet, praying, looking up into the eyes and hearts of our neighbors, not down at them.  We rest most peacefully surrounded by lambs and doves, straw and starlight.  We are manger dwellers.

On the final page of her autobiography, Retrospection and Introspection, at the end of the chapter, "Waymarks," poet, speaker, reformer, teacher, discoverer, founder of Christian Science, and most importantly, spiritual healer,  Mary Baker Eddy concludes,

"In this period and the forthcoming centuries, watered by dews of divine Science, this "tree of life" will blossom into greater freedom, and its leaves will be "for the healing of the nations."

                      Ask God to give thee skill
                          In comfort's art:
                    That thou may'st consecrated be
                          And set apart
                        Unto a life of sympathy. 
                    For heavy is the weight of ill
                          In every heart;
                      And comforters  are needed much
                        Of Christlike touch. 
                                                          — A. E. HAMILTON

This is how she chose to close the last chapter of her autobiography...with a call to fellow healers.  And many who have been immeasurably blessed, healed, and transformed by God's love, have gratefully answered that call.  I am honored to work among such humble servants of the Most High.  I love you, dear colleagues...I am amazed by your selflessness, moved by your example, touched by your compassion, and encouraged by your lives of self-surrender, availability, and grace. 

In your company I hear the song of angels and the lullabies of that mother-love in each of you, singing "low, sad, and sweet" as you lift up the Christ child in every man, woman and child...each moment, of every day and night...you are my heroes. 

I am honored to be manger-watching with you tonight....
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2009]

Two Weddings and a Manger

It was early December and there were still so many details needing attention.  Not only was it Christmas and for the first time in years I would be deeply embosomed in the heart of my large family, but I was in the middle of planning my wedding as well as helping my younger sister plan hers.  Our weddings would take place five days apart with Christmas Day sandwiched right in the middle to take advantage of having friends and family there for the holiday week.


I was standing on College Avenue in Fort Collins ready to hit one more used/vintage/nearly new clothing store in search of something special to wear as a bride with no budget.  It was  a bright, snowy day with temperatures in the 20’s.  But the Colorado sun, a mile closer to the earth, warmed my face to the point of feeling the first tingle of a sunburn.  I had instinctively turned towards the sun as I closed my eyes in prayer for guidance and direction while time and resources were waning.  Immediately the title of a recently published inspirational article,  "Maintaining the Manger Attitude" by Marian English* came to thought.   That morning I had grabbed the new issue of the Christian Science Sentinel on my way out the door to do errands.  I had noticed the title thinking I would read the article as I was waiting in line at the grocery store or at the long stoplights on streets busy with holiday shoppers.

I felt a bit blue that day in spite of my mission and the beautiful setting.   There was so much to do.  The burden of getting it all done in a short period of time was weighing heavily that morning on College Avenue.  How would I find something "bridal" to wear for less than $10, decorate the large lodge on a shoestring as well as graciously host the more than two hundred people that would be converging in Colorado for both weddings.  Talk about no room in the Inn..."we don't even have a manger" I thought as I felt tears of frustration form in the corners of my eyes. 

My "also a bride" sister, Lila,  had offered to meet me that morning as I searched yet one more Goodwill-type store for something that I could creatively customize into bridal attire.  As I waited for her to arrive I prayed with just the title of that article since I had left the magazine on the seat of the car parked five blocks away.  What would the "manger attitude" look, feel, and sound  like?  Hmm...all I could imagine was peace...peace filling the rafters of that modest structure, peace descending on the straw, peace laying its mantle on a mother's heavy heart and on a father's furrowed brow, peace in the cattle's "lowing", peace in the coo of a dove.  Peace, as the old Christmas carol that I had loved as a child, said:

"How silently, how silently
the wondrous gift is given
So God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of His heaven."
-O Little Town of Bethlehem

The wondrous gift wasn't going to be in finding the $1,000 we needed to pay for the food for our modest reception, or even in figuring out how we would help our 100+ guests find lodging in a remote mountain town.  The wondrous gift would be given to me each moment I found

"Peace on earth, goodwill to men"

throughout the moments of my days filled with errands, purchases, decisions and waiting, waiting, waiting...for R.S.V.P. cards, promised callbacks from vendors and suppliers, traffic lights to change and solutions to reveal themselves like the light from a star in the quiet stillness of my manger heart.

Something settled deeply in my heart as I stood there.  Lila arrived and I was no longer on a hunt for bridal wear, candles, options or bargains.  I was moving through moments of revelation abiding in a manger and taking it with me everywhere I went.   We walked into the nearly new shoppe where I had been standing.  Within moments I found an old cream-colored wool sweater for 50 cents.  I would later boil and cut it down to create an Austrian-styled boiled wool jacket exactly like the one  I had seen for over $200 at a local mountain wear shoppe.  Further back in that little store we found an antique petticoat that would serve as a skirt once I dyed it in a large pot of weak tea to give it an aging that would match the jacket.  Cowboy boots were purchased for $2 and painted cream for another $1.79.  A gross of candles were offered by a supplier at bargain basement prices because the wax had bubbles in it.   Within hours, details I thought would take weeks to tick off my list were resolved without a hitch. 

My focus became:

"Let every heart prepare Him room..."

I was no longer a bride putting on a wedding...I was a shepherd preparing a place for my lambs, a mother finding a quiet space for my child, a dove sweeping the cobwebs from the rafters of the stable for a King.  Each guest was the Christ child coming to rest in the embrace of this "bridal feast."  I was a host serving "the Lord of hosts" who loved his servant and provided her with all she needed for preparing this feast of Soul.

As you can see, Christmas carols became prayers and provided my heart with the food it needed for its own daily feast.  I stopped worrying about how we would pay for the food.  I just needed to appreciate the table that was being set before me each hour. 

Later that week, the camp that had offered us the use of their lodge and kitchen for our wedding and reception decided to also offer over 150 of our guests free lodging in gratitude for our previous pro bono work when their budgets were tight.   They even provided staffing for our event as well as the chef for our reception fare.  The staff had already been hired and were on hand to care for their own guests later that week.  All that was left to cover was the actual cost of the food which came to the same amount as the cash we received as wedding gifts.   One guest even carried in boughs of holly from her Massachusetts home to cover the broad fireplace mantle.  The large Christmas tree in the lodge had given up enough branches at its trunk to wrap the lodge beams in pine.  Fifty yards of water-damaged, cream-colored, satin ribbon was given to us by a local fabric store for draping through the greenery.  Just before the wedding a friend arrived with antique snowshoes to place on the hearth and finish the "altar" with "something old."

What I learned from that Christmas over 20 years ago wasn't about a wedding and having everything work out perfectly because I prayed, thought the right thought, or created a mental environment where it could all become humanly perfect.  We are not, nor will we ever be that creative or that powerful...God is the only Cause and Creator.  What I did learn was already complete that day on College Avenue with the warmth of an early December Colorado sun on my face.  It was the gift of peace....it was the gift of each moment that I was still....a word that doesn't just mean "quiet or calm" but "nevertheless, without interruption"...as in "I am still with thee."

In that moment I discovered that I could either visit the manger or I could abide in it, take it with me, and offer its solace and stillness to those I shared space with throughout my day...

Where meekness will receive him
Still the dear Christ enters in.
- Phillips Brooks

...that even when the busy Inn looks like it has room for me and beckons to me from its well-lit and festive doorway, I can beg off my regrets and, from my heart's home in the manger, wave to those who seem to be rushing about madly to join me there.   There's room for all in the manger.  Let your heart prepare him--the Christ in humanity--and especially in yourself, room.

*(my experience with this Sentinel article was profound and resulted in many opportunties for spiritual growth,   healing, and the discovery of a deep and abiding peace.  Feel free to visit my website and read another article under the "How" section titled "Maintaining the Manger Attitude")

K