"hold them up..."

"hold them up, 

hold them up, 

never to let them go..."

Walking back up the hill from Newfound -- to Owatonna -- this morning, I was pondering a few things.  One, my gratitude for the beauty of this place - lush with love and filtered light.  Two, an upcoming wedding - that I had just heard about from a friend.  Three, God.  And not in any order -- but more about how these three things coincided in my heart.

And as I continued up the hill, a favorite James Taylor song, "Never Die Young"  came to mind.  It's always been a reminder that we have a spiritual responsibility to wrap our mental arms around every relationship, and hold them close -- hold them in hope, hold them up. 

Just before I reach the top of the hill, I looked to my right and saw the above image.  It made me cry.  I had to ask myself: do I twine myself around every couple I know and hold them that dearly and tenderly in my heart?  Do I uphold the highest sense of partnership, friendship, marriage, family - when I think of them?  

I remember when my husband and I were first married. There were so many people that questioned our union.  Too soon?  Too many opinions to overcome?  Too old to start over?  

I remember one person lamenting that I'd never reach a 50th anniversary, starting over at "this point in your life." As if time -- measured by a number of years -- validated love.  

Rather than feeling like our community was wrapping its arms around us, it felt like an axe hacking away at our prospects. But rather than letting it put distance between us, we leaned in closer and grew stronger.  After that, I swore I would model a different kind of response to hearing about someone else's "new love."  Have I been consistently faithful to this vow? I hope I have.  I pray I have.  I am sure I can do better. 

Coming upon those two trees wrapped in a single vine was a most profound reminder for me.  To love God, is to love what He loves -- His child, His children, His plan.  We are each planted by our divine Parent to grow in proximity to those whose lives we will bless and be blessed by -- whether it is for a moment, a season, or a full life chapter.  

Some relationships will be like trees with roots entwined so deeply, that they hold eachother up in a storm.  Couples whose branches are so interlaced -- as they reach for the sun, day-after-day -- that you cannot tell where one stops, and the other starts. 

Other trees are not root-tied, but provide shelter to one another during tender growing years.  And others are like an aspen grove that covers the side of a mountain -- a single organism that only appears to be ten thousand individual trees.

And when we twine our loving prayers around those who are in loving relationship, we are included -- as encircling vines -- in that tenderness, collaboration, joy, unity, and affection. We are no longer looking at something from a perspective outside of the goodness it represents.  But are, in fact, actually - now - part of that beautiful love, because we are embracing it within us.   

It is not our job to figure out how, or why, individuals find their way to one another.  It is our job to trust the divine to plant each of us in a place, and within an ecosystem, that it will bless us -- and that we will be blessed by -- for however long it takes to learn and grow in partnership, fellowship, community -- Love.  

It is our privilege to wrap every relationship in the purest expectation for each blessed union.   Since: 

"our expectation is from Him." 

Today, I am sending each parent and child, mother and daughter, husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, sisters, brothers, partners, colleagues, friends -- so very much love.  

Mary Baker Eddy assures us that: 

"all nature teaches God's love to man..." 

Today, nature is reminding me to hold them up, and hold them close -- all of the "thems."  

offered with Love, 

Cate

"to be known, rather than remembered.."

"memory,
i can dream
of the old days,
life was
beautiful then..."

I've never really liked this song. But, that said, it is the perfect keynote for this post. And if I have to listen to it, I would prefer to hear Barbra Steisand's version of "Memory," than any other.

This experience was pivotal in my understanding of healing. It happened over thirty years ago, but the Truth I discovered that day, is as fresh today as the day it flooded my heart.

A relationship that meant everything to me was falling apart at the seams. It would seem that whatever had drawn us together in the beginning had been lost forever. For the other person, but not for me. I wanted our relationship to continue so desperately. I loved him with every ounce of my being.

It was clear to me that he was just not remembering how good it was. How amazing it had been. All the reasons that we had come together in the first place. So I sent him cards filled with reminders. "Remember our first date? Remember those early months when we couldn't wait to meet at the end of the day and share our inspiration and insights. Remember that trip to...

The more I remembered, the farther away he moved from the closeness we had once enjoyed. I felt bereft. It was so easy for me to remember. And I thought those memories were our lifeline back to all the good we had known together.

One day, when things were at their darkest, I woke to a late spring snow storm. The roads were impassable. It would be a "snow day" for me whether I wanted to be home alone or not. And during that time, home alone was excruciating. So many reminders of "how good it had been."

I knew I couldn't "go there," so I made myself a cup of tea and pulled my books, the Bible and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy, off of my desk and curled up in front of the wood stove for a morning of study.

I don't remember what the theme of that week's scriptural study was, but I do remember two things that shifted my heart. One, was the story of Peter's raising of Tabitha from Acts 9, starting at verse 36. Following her passing after an illness, Peter is called to her home, where he finds her friends - weeping widows who who brought him to the upper chamber where she lay surrounded by some of the coats and garments she had made while she was alive.

But it is this next passage that woke me up:

“But Peter
put them all forth..."
 

I got it. It was suddenly so clear to me. I, too, was clinging to memorials. When all along, divine Love was breathing fresh purpose into our relationship. Immediately on the heels of that realization, a statement from Science and Health came to mind:

“If a friend be with us,
why need we memorials
of that friend."
 

I knew I had to let go of all the "reasons" from the past. My loved one didn't need to be bombarded with memories, he needed to be trusted. He needed for me to release us both from the past. If we were to continue, it would be because God's purpose for our relationship was still vital to His plan for us.

Another statement from Science and Health helped me arrest that behavior. Eddy says:

"Make no unnecessary inquiries
relative to feelings or disease."
 

So I stopped. Cold turkey. I stopped asking him how he felt. I stopped wondering "what if..." I worked every day to simply show up in the presence of God's purpose for us.

This isn't about a nice, neatly tied up "healing" of a relationship. Each day we each showed up willing to discover more about our love for God, through our love for each other. But most importantly, I stopped looking backwards to affirm or define my relationships -- with God, with my loved ones, with my body. It allows relationships to evolve with purpose. It requires the discipleship of knowing -- versus remembering It's a spiritual demand that takes devout focus on loving God as the only "I am."

And isn't this what Peter was so clear about. Tabitha wasn't a memory, she was an idea of God. A reflection of divine Mind. And I love the definition of the word "reflect," as "deep thinking or pondering." Tabitha was God was thinking, not what he was remembering. And Peter knew that he too could know her, not through the widow's memorials, but through an understanding of her present identity.

This would have been so edifying for Peter -- the last thing we would have wanted, was to be remembered for his past denials of Christ, but known for the faithful man of God, the faithful apostle he was day-by-day as he fulfilled his holy purpose.

This spiritual demand to know, rather than remember, blesses everyone and everything. I once thought of myself as someone with a great memory. Now I know myself as someone who knows - not remembers - God. As someone who knows Love. It is enough.


offered with Love,

Kate

"i have a Voice inside of me..."

"I have a voice,
simple and clear;
it speaks the Truth,
for all to hear..."

This afternoon someone posted Kinard Middle School's video of their student choir singing  "I Have a Voice." It moved me deeply.

It speaks to me of a prayer from my own faith tradition -- Christian Science. It is a short prayer that the founder of Christian Science, Mary Baker Eddy, included in The Manual of the Mother Church -- a document that helps members of her church self-govern. It is called "The Daily Prayer," -- and it reads:

"Thy kingdom come
let the reign of divine Truth, Life, and Love
be stablished in me, and rule out of me all sin,
and may Thy Word enrich the affections
of all mankind and govern them."

This prayer is fundamental to my own spiritual practice. I don't just pray with it daily, but many times throughout the day. It it a prayer of guidance. And it is a prayer of promise.

This song, "I Have a Voice [here is a link to the Broadway Kids performance]"  affirms the last line in the Daily Prayer, which reads:

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

Throughout the day, when I hear reports of contention, discord, or disappointment -- I return to this prayer. I trust its message. We all have this Voice speaking within ourselves. No one is left operating in a vacuum. This Voice guides us, corrects us, assures and comforts us. Nothing can silence it. No one can interfere with it, or take it from us.  I trust its presence.  I trust its power to reach each of us -- right where we are.  We only need to be still.  And in this stillness we hear the Voice - and know.  We just know.  We know what is good.  We know what is true.  We know what we love.

From the tiniest baby to the centenarian, we all have this Voice within us. My children and grandchildren have this voice speaking to them as they navigate college, work, school, home, sports. Our neighbors, colleagues, friends and world leaders have this same Voice speaking to them.

I trust this.

It gives me hope.

offered with Love,

Kate

"gentle on my mind..."

"It's knowing that your door
is always open, and your path
is free to walk..."

I love this version of John Hartford's "Gentle on My Mind" by The Band Perry. But it's Glen Campbell's 1967 recording that first caught my heart.

It was 1969 and everything felt at loose ends. Our family had pulled up stakes and moved over 2,000 miles across the country. We were living with relatives while our parents secured housing. I felt so untethered that summer. I was looking for anything I could latch on to, and call my own.

The teenage sons of long-time family friends were kind, respectful, and good. It didn't take long for me to develop a paralyzing crush on the oldest boy. Days were soon filled with tennis, swimming, berry-picking, and playing records in my cousins' basement where we'd talk, and dance, and play cards, while our parents visited upstairs.

I believe that in his eyes - I was a child. I certainly looked like one. Three years younger, and already very small for my age, I was more like someone he should babysit rather than date. But this didn't stop me from dreaming -- the way young girls do. He was kind, but certainly not interested in dating a little girl.

It must have been obvious to my parents, aunts, uncles, and his parents -- to say nothing of my cousins. If he was coming over I was animated and happy. If he wasn't, I sat by myself on the porch, reading novels, and sighed -- a lot.

One day, my very intuitive aunt joined me on the porch. In her hand was a copy of Mary Baker Eddy's small volume, Miscellaneous Writings, 1883 - 1896. At first she didn't even refer to the book she was holding. She simple asked me what was on my mind. And for some reason, I was honest with her. 

 I told her that I was thinking about him.  I admitted how impossible - I knew it was - for us to ever become a couple. Not only was he not interested in dating a little girl, but we were very different. He was an adventurer, a wanderer, someone who saw a horizon and simply had to find out what lay beyond. I, as I told my aunt, was a homebody, a bookworm, someone who sought out small spaces and quiet corners.

My aunt didn't remind me that I was barely old enough to be allowed to stay up late and watch Bonanza -- much less be thinking about my future with a boy who was already shaving and planning a solo road trip to Colorado after college. She spoke with me as if I were a young woman. She addressed -- not the difference in our ages -- but the differences in our dreams.

She reminded me that my dreams were filled with visions of ivy-covered halls at a prestigious university, while his were filled with mountains, rivers, vast open highways, and endless western skies. Without saying much more, she handed me her copy of Miscellaneous Writings, and walked back into the house. Holding it in my hand, I noticed that there was a long slip of soft blue grosgrain ribbon, pressed between two pages. After she left, I opened to where the ribbon had been placed, and found that she'd marked a passage for me to read. It was perfect:

"We should remember that the world is wide;
that there are a thousand million different human wills,
opinions, ambitions, tastes, and loves; that each person
has a different history, constitution, culture, character,
from all the rest; that human life is the work, the play,
the ceaseless action and reaction upon each other
of these different atoms.

Then, we should go forth into life with the
smallest expectations, but with the largest patience;
with a keen relish for and appreciation of everything
beautiful, great, and good, but with a temper so genial
that the friction of the world shall not wear upon
our sensibilities; with an equanimity so settled that
no passing breath nor accidental disturbance shall
agitate or ruffle it; with a charity broad enough
to cover the whole world’s evil, and sweet enough
to neutralize what is bitter in it, — determined
not to be offended when no wrong is meant, nor
even when it is, unless the offense be against God.

Nothing short of our own errors should offend us.
He who can wilfully attempt to injure another,
is an object of pity rather than of resentment;
while it is a question in my mind, whether there is
enough of a flatterer, a fool, or a liar,
to offend a whole-souled woman." 

The first thing I felt was "known." I can't tell you why, at 14-going-on-15, I was so moved by this passage, but it touched me deeply.  And, it was perfect. It was grown up and thoughtful. To think that this aunt --who I admired so much for her dignity, compassion, and grace -- would think of me as a "whole-souled woman," gave me something to hold on to. It was the very anchoring I had been seeking.

Almost 50 years later, this passage - in my own copy of Miscellaneous Writings - is always marked with a slip of grosgrain ribbon and marked with blue chalk. It has seen me through arguments with my sister, break-ups, not getting "the job" I'd thought was mine, political disappointments and dissent, as well as  countless opportunities for humility, meekness, and grace.

The boy -- he went on to become an extraordinary young man of substance and adventure. Me -- I still love books, quiet spaces, and the simple things of home, spiritual service, and family. That summer, my aunt helped me let go of the wrong anchor, to find my true grounding in what was enduring, changeless, and beautiful. I will always be grateful.  Each person that comes into our hearts, can forever remain gentle on our minds.

offered with Love,

Kate

"look on us…"

"it's easy,
all you need is love,
all you need is love,
all you need is love, love,
love is all you need..."

Thomas Gray's cover of the Lennon and McCartney classic, "All You Need is Love is the perfect keynote for this post. Simple, pure, unvarnished.

So it is my hope, that this post will be just as simple.

My Bible study this morning started with this Scripture from Romans:

"Love is the fulfilling of the law..." 

It took my breath away. I don't know why I hadn't seen it before -- it was certainly a familiar passage. But this morning it was as if all the pieces fell into place. Love isn't a means to an end. Love is the end. It is everything. Love isn't something we "use" to accomplish perfection -- or anything else for that matter. Love is everything.

I've been sensing this for some years. But this morning I think I "got it." The healings and demonstrations that Jesus witnessed, were not the main event. They were just the encouragement toward the great awakening -- the realization that -- it's all about Love.

One of my favorite relationships in Scripture is that of Jesus' disciples, John and Peter. Talk about two guys who struggled with "who shall be greatest." John, as much as I love him, was a bit passive-aggressive. Take his referencing of himself as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," -- oh my. And sweet, over-earnest Peter. One minute he is the Rock on whom Jesus will build his church, and the next, Jesus is rebuking him with a resounding, "get thee behind me Satan." Comparisons, competition, contradiction -- all for the love of the Master.

One of Jesus' last recorded acts was his rebuke to Peter, when Peter asks him, "what shall this man do?" referring to John.  Jesus' reply -- and I can't imagine that it wasn't without just a touch of exasperation -- was, "what is that to thee? follow thou me."  Which, of course, was recorded for posterity by John.  Oh, these guys. 

When I think of all the healings they had witnessed -- the raising of the dead, the loaves and fishes, the water into wine. And yet, Jesus' final moments with them are not a recap of "how to" perform the "miraculous."  They are, in fact, filled with an urgent plea that they learn to love one another -- the washing of one another's feet, and finally, this admonition to stop competing.

So back to my favorite moment? It comes in the book of Acts, third chapter. Peter and John are together. Jesus is no longer the personally present sun around which their lives orbit. And yet, here they are. Together. Going to temple to worship -- together. A lame man stops them and asks for help -- for healing.  And this is it -- the moment that makes me weep:

"And Peter, fastening his eyes
upon him with John, said,
'Look on us." 

It gets me every time. It's almost as if he is saying. "Listen man, if we can be together, anything is possible." The greatest healing was not the lame man walking, the restoration of Malchus' ear, or even the return of vitality to the body -- the greatest healing is love.

Re-reading the gospels, I have realized that this is the "aha," I have been sensing for decades. It's not about using love to get better, feel more peaceful, find abundance, or demonstrate happiness. Love is, in fact, using us to be Itself -- to fulfill Itself. Love is the fulfilling of the law. It is everything, and as Mary Baker Eddy says in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, her textbook on this law of Love:

"The depth, breadth, height, might,
majesty, and glory of infinite Love
fill all space.
That is enough!" 

Love is the fulfilling of the law -- the law of Love. We don't love in order to have a more perfect life -- body, bank account, home. Love uses our lives as a platform for Its fulfillment -- love. We don't "use" love to improve our bodies. We have bodies so that we can express love -- willing hands for helping, strong arms for holding, beautiful lips for smiling, clear eyes for beholding.

It's not "all you need is love," in order to heal the world, fix a problem, or clean up your heart/mind so that you can finally see perfection. It's "all you need is love" -- period! This love, is perfection.

I can't help but think of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.  We think of their songs as the fulfilling of their relationship.  But, perhaps, the songs were just the platform on which these two brilliant artists forged a relationship of mutual respect and warm affection.  This is the question I am living in today.

And today -- at least for me -- this is enough.

offered with Love,

Kate

"you don't belong to me…"

"You belong to me,
you belong, you belong,
you belong to me..."

No, not anymore. Not really ever.  But there were so many years when I thought that having someone belong to me was the essence of true love. To be mine exclusively. To be my husband, my daughter, my friend. Carly Simon's "You Belong to Me," was my anthem.

I played it loud.  I sang along with it on car trips. It was my weapon of choice -- I fought with it, coiled in my heart's back pocket. I wept to it in the shower. I believed it was my right to hold on.  What was I thinking?

For all those years, if you had asked me if thought I understood the nature of Love, I would have said, "yes."  But, it took having all that I loved wrenched from my death grip, to discover that Love doesn't possess -- it surrenders. Love doesn't seek to own. Love doesn't need to control. Love trusts.

For such a long time, the penultimate model of human love was knowing that someone belonged to me, and to me only. To be in an exclusive relationship meant I was special. But I have learned that true love is inclusive, not exclusive. Love never leaves anyone out. Everyone belongs in the all-embrace of true love, not to others.

My daughters have taught me more about inclusive, all-expansive, surrendering love than any other one thing in my life. From the get-go, as an adoptive mom, I've had to surrender any possessiveness -- any sense of them being "my daughters." They have always been our daughters -- their birthmother, their dad -- and, eventually, their step-mom and step-dad.  And that was only the beginning.  They have beloved friends, coaches, aunts, uncles, grandparents, teachers, counselors.  Rather than them belonging to me, I belong with them in this incredible sense of family.

In fact, just when I begin to think that we have the family tree trimmed into another neat shape, it grows new branches, sprouts new leaves overnight.  And what I am discovering is that we will never be a neat, trim little bonsai tree.  We are messy and wonderful.  We belong to a constantly unfolding, ever-expanding family of love.  I've long-since thrown the tree-trimming tools in the dumpster. 

The world is constantly parading a version of love in front of us that is full of ownership and possessiveness.  Some of those traditions, provisions, and contracts of partnership are beautiful and practical.  But they don't give us the right to enslave one another.

I remember well the day that God answered my prayers for help in "fixing" a relationship I'd clung to for dear life.  His message to me was:

"Do you love him enough, 
to let him go?" 

The answer was immediate. I did.  And so, I did.  I let go.  Since then, actively letting go of "owning" the people, places, and things that I love, has been the most perfect sense of living in grace for me.  

Letting go has also given me the gift of an infinite, and eternal, sense of love.  A love that is not based on sharing time or proximity of space -- but a love that is fully defined by what I hold dearly in consciousness.  This is where love is timeless, invulnerable, and fearless.  I can't help but remember what Paul says in Scripture:  

"neither height, nor depth, 
nor any other creature can separate 
us from the love of God..." 

This is the love that I seek in myself -- to love the way that God loves.  To love without permission, and without condition.  A love that, as Mary Baker Eddy states in  Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"cannot be deprived 
of its manifestation or object." 

I cannot be deprived of it, because it was never "mine," never owned, never personally possessed. 

Lately I've been working to change my language when it comes to love.  Rather than referring to the girls and Jeff as my daughters or my husband, I am using their names.  These small shifts have allowed me to step back from everything passing through the filter of "my" relationship with them, into a larger sense of their relationship with God and their world

Rather than thinking of this as my home or my town, I have been thinking of it as a wonderful place that I am blessed to share with my family, friends, and neighbors.

Today I realized that I no longer want someone to belong to me.  I want each of us to belong to God, and to the vastness of His infinite, eternal love for all of us.  

with all my love -- and with Love,

Kate

"God gave me you…"

"God gave you
for the ups and downs.
God gave you
for the days of doubt.

For when I think
I've lost my way,
there are no words
here left to say,

It's true,
God gave me you..."

It's been wonderful living on the periphery -- witnessing, from a gentle distance -- a blessed wedding that will take place this weekend. Seeing dear friends gather to celebrate a couple's love for one another and their hope for the future -- well, I can't imagine a more beautiful view.

Thinking about marriage, and what it takes to open the door of our hearts and our lives so completely to another human being, takes my breath away. There is something so sacred about this holy space that Love carves out in us. And today, it's Blake Shelton's "God Gave Me You." that speaks to what I believe about marriage -- with all my being.

It's no secret that I've been divorced and remarried. And I've discovered that, generally, people think that I must have considered my earlier marriage a "mistake."

But that's not true. Not at all true. I believe that every marriage -- every relationship -- is blessed, sacred, and holy. I was deeply blessed by my earlier marriage. However I've come to learn that for me -- and I can only speak for myself -- relationships evolve.  They don't end. My children's dad and I -- with our current spouses -- are devoted parenting partners. I continue to be blessed by what we are learning together. It's just that now, we have expanded that circle to include more love.

I am learning that we never really end any relationship. We continue to think about the people who have been in our lives. And that act of "thinking about" them is always in done the present. We don't actually think in the past. So, how we think of them - in any given "present" moment is our truth. And how we treat them -- in our thoughts, even as memory -- is all that matters.

This is what defines us -- our capacity to love without the permission of roles or reasons. We just continue to love -- honestly, appropriately, trustingly. It doesn't end, it just changes, or evolves.

I won't lie. To believe that my former spouse and I had once made a mistake -- and that we had now corrected it by "moving on," would romantically tie up all my loose ends up in a neat little bow. I could say, "whew, I got it wrong, and then, I got it right. Thank you God. Now I can be happy."

But that would put happiness on a personal, rather than a spiritual, basis. And it would also mean that at some point we had been separated from God's guidance, care, direction, and wisdom. It would mean that at some juncture, our omnipotent God either ceased to have all power in our lives, or He did have all-power, but He really didn't love us all that much. Otherwise, wouldn't He/She have intervened on our behalf and saved us from our mistakes?

Nope, I can't afford the luxury of that thinking. It would send a fissure through every holy place in my heart, shattering my trust in an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God who is impartial and universal Love.

The alternative is so much better.:

"God gave me you..."  

And not just the "you" I married, but all the yous in my life. Family members, neighbors, friends, fellow parents at school -- everyone.

Every person in my life, for whatever reason, is God-appointed, God-annointed, and God-sent as a blessing. Or as Blake sings, we are all part of "a divine conspiracy" designed for our spiritual awakening.

As I learn to let love unfold itself in my heart, within the context of each relationship I am learning something new about my capacity to reflect the divine Source of that love. I discover that "Love is reflected in love" -- unconditional love, impartial love -- in me, through me, as me. No exceptions.

But, I haven't always seen it this way. In fact, there was a time when I thought I had the privilege of choosing whether to love, how to love, and when to love the people in my life. I doled love out like a commodity -- and hoped it would return in kind. When it didn't, I judged the relationship as either good, or "not so good," and adjusted my affection, and expectations, accordingly.

But this never worked. I was always on the edge, waiting for something to improve -- or to end. If someone hurt me, I had the right to expect an apology. If I hurt someone else, I deserved to feel regret, sorrow, and hope for their forgiveness.

It was all in our hands. We determined the success or failure of our relationships. And God help us, if we were doomed from the outset by a poor initial choice.

Then one day I actually realized that I was dishonoring God with this thinking. It was unholy. It left God out of His own creation.

So, you may ask, if this is the case, how could I possibly allow myself to even entertain the concept of "divorce." To be honest, I never did. I was completely intractable when it came to my commitment of "making it work."

But then one day, there was an inbreaking of the heart -- and from that space of surrender, grace began to flow. Where once, I was rigid about what a "spiritual outcome" had to look like, there was a new gentleness and humility.

Something shifted, and I felt led towards a kinder version of myself. I was willing to let God unfold a more authentic relationship with my former spouse. An honest relationship that was/is filled with fresh hope and a more radical trust in God's plan for each of us -- individually and collectively. A relationship based on God's love for him, for our children, and yes, for me.

The other day, as I was thinking about marriage, and the beauty of weddings -- first weddings, second weddings -- and in some cases third or fourth marriages. And I was reminded of Mary Baker Eddy's wedding blessing from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"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."  

Every bridal altar. What promise!

Eddy, herself, was a new bride -- three times. And I pray with all my heart that she felt beautiful, pure, hopeful, filled with promise -- each time. I pray that we all do.

Whether the "new" relationship in your life is the birth of a child, the resurrection of a once-stale friendship, a business partnership that excites you, or a first, second, or third walk down the aisle -- may it feel like a miracle. For in each case, it is.  It is a divine gift. A gift of grace.

I know -- because God gave me you. Each of you.

"There are no greater miracles known to earth
than perfection
and an unbroken friendship."  

with great hope, and always with Love,

Kate

"never to let them fall…"

"they were true love,
written in stone,
they were never alone,
they were never that far apart…"
- James Taylor

This is the relationship I dreamed about, prayed for, gave my all to. And, I believe, it is the one that we all hope we will find, love our way into, grow up with, and be known for.

I first heard the lyrics to JT's,"Never Die Young," in 1988, and I just knew they were about "us." I thought we were that couple. I thought we could overcome anything. I thought we would be those cute little old people walking hand-in-hand, through town, at sunset.

But we weren't. And we aren't -- at least not with each other.  But I believe we are both a testament to the power of love and hope.  But I digress.  This isn't a post about our divorce. This is a post about Taylor's admonition to "hold them up, hold them up, never to let them fall…" This is an open letter to the residents of every "tough town" he is singing about. This is my plea, and my prayer.

A relationship is not a reality show, playing itself out in real time. It isn't meant to be subject to community Nielsen ratings. It shouldn't be the subject of Siskel and Ebert-like thumbs up/thumbs down assessments. A relationship -- whether it is a marriage, a domestic partnership, or a very good friendship -- is not there for our entertainment. No one is asking for our vote of confidence.

Sometimes, in the midst of the day-to-day, it is hard to separate what is our own reality, from the stories that are being projected onto us.  And sometimes, it is just plain hard.  It is especially difficult to navigate, when we begin to feel the weight of human opinions, speculation, or just the boredom-based chatter that happens when people aren't engaged in the kind of life-expansive charity, social-advocacy, and unselfed community service that keeps them from the chocolate cupboard of gossip.

As I sit here today - listening to this much-loved song - my heart cries out for social self-restraint. For an end to the practice of "everyone used to run them down: 'they're a little too sweet, they're a little too tight…"

Please, please, please -- let's just stop it. Instead let's:

"Hold them up,
hold them up,
never to let them fall
prey to the rust, and the dust,
and the ruin that names us,
and claims us, and shames us
and ruins us all..." 

Because it does you know. When we participate in knocking down someone's relationship or marriage with the kind of so-called harmless comments, speculation, criticism, sarcasm that reality TV promotes as entertaining conversation, we name ourselves as unkind, we claim our sense of ourselves as small-minded, we shame ourselves with gossip and mischief-making, and we ruin our sense of identity as a loving, supportive community -- place to grow and thrive in.

It's time to stop looking for the first crack in a person's spiritual poise, the first fissure in a relationship, the first (or second) mistake -- and jump on it. It's time to stop saying -- to ourselves and others, "see, I told you so." It's time to stop celebrating the widening of relational fault lines with self-congratulatory silent (or audible) surprise, and disdain.

This is not an easy journey. We are all doing it, with as much grace, love, trust, and courage as we know how. The last thing anyone needs is to have the acid of gossip, speculation, and "i knew it all the time…" thrown in.

The Golden Rule is precious and practical. It keeps us safe from becoming another character in a reality TV show of our own making. When we think, speak, do unto (and about) others the way we would want them to think, speak, and do unto (or about) us -- and our partner, spouse, children, family, home, business, we are on safe, holy ground. 

 And in the course of living this Golden Rule, we may just find that leaving other people's relationships alone -- or supporting them by trusting them to Love's wise guidance and protection -- we improve our own relationships, foster new ones, and strengthen our ties to the source of all love.

I love this brief statement from Mary Baker Eddy's last published work, The First Church of Christ, Scientist and Miscellany:

"No mortal is infallible, 
— hence the Scripture,
“Judge no man.” 

We're all a work in progress. And, we are all in this together. We are all trying to find, and live, the kind of love that is a little too sweet, and not too tough. The kind of love that rises from among the detritus of human drama like a big balloon and soars over it with grace. I know I do. I want my relationships to inspire, not entertain.

offered with all my Love -- and prayers,

Kate

"Hold them up..."

"Hold them up, hold them up,
never to let them fall prey
to the dust, and the rust. and ruin
that names us and claims us
and shames us all..."

James Taylor's "Never Die Young" is one of the most sobering songs I've ever felt.  And yes, I really do mean "felt," rather than heard.  This song reaches me in a place that is tender and hopeful and sad all at once.

I used to feel that we were all just a bit like the people in this song: 

"...a little too sweet, a little too tight 

Not enough tough for this tough town.

Couldn't touch 'em with a ten foot pole

No, they didn't seem rattled at all. 

They were fused together body and soul. 

That much more 

with their backs up against the wall."

The bottom line is, that none of us feels immune to the kind of tearing down that these "tough towns" are sometimes so thoughtlessly engaged in.  And it can be so subtle that even when we passively participate -- just by listening -- we think it's harmless...or even deserved.

But it never is.

As part of his Thanksgiving Proclamation for this years (2012), President Barack Obama had this to say about how we might consider treating one another: 

"On Thanksgiving Day, individuals from all walks of life come together to celebrate this most American tradition, grateful for the blessings of family, community, and country. Let us spend this day by lifting up those we love, mindful of the grace bestowed upon us by God and by all who have made our lives richer with their presence."

I've been thinking about this portion of his proclamation, since hearing it in church that day.  And I can't think of any other one thing that would make a bigger difference in the lives of others.

I love the tradition of Hora.  An Israeli (among other cultures) custom often performed  at bar/bat mitzvahs and weddings, in which the honoree(s) are lifted up on chairs during a congregational dance.

Its symbology is similar to the western tradition of asking the wedding guest to vow their ongoing support of the couple --as they make their way in the world as a new family -- by replying, "we do."

But these symbols, traditions, and customs are only as good as our conscientious effort to follow through on these pledges.  

Gossip, rumors, talking about others behind their back -- picking away at the details of someone's personal decisions and choices --  never lifts up those we love, care about.  It never elevates our concept of man.  It never blesses those we are in relationship with as friends, family, neighbors, colleagues or even as fellow citizens of a global community.   And it always leads to tearing someone down.

Even when it is done in the circumspection of our own silent reverie, those negative thoughts about others, begin to tear down our sense of ourselves -- as loving, generous, merciful beings.

I believe that it is especially critical that we "hold up" those who are working so hard to be "in relationship."  Mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, siblings, fathers and sons, neighbors, colleagues, sisters, friends, in-laws, blended families.

These relationships have the potential for being the most amazing laboratories for demonstrating the consistent, enduring, persistent kind of love that seems miraculous to society these days.  This is where unselfishness breeds, where unconditional love blossoms, where forgiveness is given wings.

We can never -- ever -- know what others are facing in the sanctuary of their relationships.  But we can refuse to speculate, wonder, or imagine.   We can walk away from the mental invitation to "be concerned."  We can turn away from society's desire to "know the details." We can hold them up to the sunlight of God's warming Love.  We can hold up -- in our own heart, and to everyone around us -- the best in our fellow beings.  That gentle glimmer of grace, a shimmering slice of something sublimely sweet. 

And we can gently, but firmly, "hang up" when someone is sharing of another person's news.  Wouldn't you rather hear it from them anyway. 

As my friend Carol once said, "I don't share other people's news, it's not mine to share, it's theirs."  Refreshing isn't it!

Holding one another up.  This could just be the best Christmas gift we give eachother this year!

with Love...always,  

Kate

I'll love you for a thousand more..."

"darling,
don't be afraid...
i have loved you
for a thousand years,
I'll love you for a thousand more..."

In many ways, this post...and the over-arching insight shared...unfolded like a flash of light, in its entirety, within a moment. And in other ways, it has been growing and evolving for about two decades...experience-upon-experience. Almost as if Love, starting with one drop of color, layer-by-layer, gently placing one brushstroke upon another, until a painting took form. And suddenly, there is depth, texture, beauty, and vision.

I don't know that this image is fully layered, and ready for framing...but I do know that it is my truth...today. I am sharing it because it is where I am at this juncture in my understanding of Life. I don't claim it to be true for anyone else. But, since this blog is where I chronicle my evolving sense of spiritual being, I am writing it down. If you're interested, here's one more chapter of my story:

I was driving the River Road some weeks ago, when Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years" came on the radio. It's message seemed to weave the colors I'd been gathering for many years, into an image that felt deeply true.

I don't know that it's important to relate all the specific experiences that have contributed to this image...or if, to be honest, I really can. But it's the image, itself, that means so much to me.

A fragment of a sentence from Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, has been lodged in my heart for 20 years, or so. I've had remarkable insight from pondering it. And others have come like a flash of light. But, unlike other insights that have inspired and instructed, this one feels like it is indelibly written on the code of my spiritual DNA. And this encoding feel unlocked in a new way today. I don't think it will be a surprise to regular readers that the phrase is:

"As a drop of water is one with the ocean..."

As I said, I was driving home along the River Road, thinking about dear friends who'd been married for decades and a recent conversation I'd had with one of them. There was such a sense of peace about the time when one (or the other) of them would pass on.

His sense of Love's eternality was so clear, strong, and confident. And that evening, as I thought about our conversation, I was just so grateful for each lesson about marriage, love, constancy, persistence, and grace, I'd learned from my relationship with them as a couple.

The sun was setting in the west, and there were storm clouds in the distance. I could see the streaks of rain falling. And because it was a warm evening, there was a layer of fog beginning to lift from the surface of an eddy across the river's breadth.

Suddenly it became so clear that the river, the clouds, the fog, the humidity in the air, the falling rain are, all, one. The only thing that insinuates they are different, are their "forms," and all that defines those forms is level of density. They are all made up of water. And more importantly, I began to see that the essential elements which constitute water...hydrogen and oxygen...when bonded, and experienced as water - river, rain, cloud, steam, fog, ice, even my body (which is 91% water)... is never altered by the form of their expression.

Water is always water. Steam is not different from rain in its make up. Whether the water is visible (as ice) or invisible (as humidity in the air) it is still water. It is still H2O. And water, is in a constant cycle of changed form. Condensation, visibility, release, evaporation, condensation are the rhythm of its being. Water evaporates. Water condenses. And at each state, or stage of its life, it has function, usefulness, purpose. It's form may change, but never it's purity, or identity. A molecule of water appearing as a cloud, then rain, then river, is still a molecule of water whether it is flowing through the Midwest and carrying barges as the mighty Mississippi, or being skated on by a graceful athlete.

My friend's relationship to his wife was never defined as a relationship between two "ice" molecules, and dependent on that form to be mutually experienced. Their relationship is that of simply two water molecules, each completely whole, as the full and infinite expression of the conscious essence of the Godhead, bodily expressed. Because one might be visible in any given moment as "physical", and the other not as condensed - or visible in form, that doesn't alter the fullness of each one's identity as the present manifestation of God's being...Principle, Mind, Soul, Spirit, Life, Truth, and Love...expressed as conscious being in countless spiritual forms.

And the lovely part about water, in its constant cycle of condensation and evaporation, is that even when the water seems to be embedded in mud, sludge, or even pouring from the lips of a golden fountain in the king's palace, when it evaporates it doesn't take any of the silt, sewerage, dust, food coloring, toxic waste, or gold dust with it...it continues on its cycle of being as pure water, clear water, only water, still...never-the-less...water. This makes me feel a bit more fearless about the challenges I face. They will not cling to me as I evaporate. I will leave behind the dust, or embellishments, of personal sense, just as water, that evaporates from mud, orholy water, leaves behind anything but it's purest, most-essential, self...H2O.

This was so clear to me the other day when I ran into a friend who'd attended the school my girls attend, only 35 years earlier. He was reminiscing about how, when he was in high school, he and his friends would fish in the little pond near the school. His affection for Laskey pond was so genuine. But as I listened to him, I realized that there is nothing about what now represents the pond, that is the same as when he was here. The water has evaporated and been replaced countless times. The boundary banks have eroded and shifted over the years. All that remains are his memories of a small body of water steps from the school.

His affection for "Laskey Pond" is for his memories, not the pond that currently sits near the headmaster's house. This is not any different from what I can "me." Even without metaphor, our bodies are water...but even more, every cell of our bodies are completely recycled every 7 years. The "you" you remember from childhood, has nothing in common..physically...with the you you see in the mirror today. So what is carrying a scar, a beauty mark, a skin tone forward. It is thought...memory.

If this is the case, why would I ever want look back towards the image of my younger self...with all it's history...for a model of who I should be, today. I just need to be me, the reflection of the one, and only, I AM, right now. Pure, clear, fresh, new...never old...always new. Not younger, or returning to a better version, but new.

For me, there is so much more to this metaphor, and it's unfolding wisdom. It speaks to my awakening heart. And today, it is helping me understand something new about the eternality of being, as never contained by, or limited to, a particular form. I am seeing that being is defined only by its indissoluble relationship to its Essence. Water is always water...H2O. I am always man...the unalterable, infinitely expressed "I AM" of being. And each spiritual "I AM" molecule represents, for me, the unbroken bonding of all the divine elements...Principle, Mind, Soul, Spirit, Life, Truth, and Love...always to the infinite measure.

Whether I am visible, or not, is of no consequence to my being...I will condense, and evaporate, in infinite cycles of usefulness. But my consciousness of Love...the purest form of relationship I can have...will be alive, within me, for eternity.

In the light of this insight, I will never, everfear, or even "see death" again.

with Love...

Kate

"Because of you..."

"Because of you
there's a song in my heart..."

I was thinking today of all the times when I have felt as if someone's presence in my life, made a day, an hour, a moment sing.  My daughters, our son, my husband, our mothers, sisters, brothers...their spouses, my nieces, nephews, my girlfriends, my guy friends, my four-legged, and winged friends,  the folks who bless me with their calls and visits...you all have made me feel like, "because of you, there's a song in my heart..."

Don't you just love this Tony Bennett and k.d. lang version of such a beautiful classic?  I do.  I love it because of the collaboration it represents.  I love it because it speaks of how a common love for music erases generational lines and brings two people together to bless countless others.

I thought about writing this piece about "Because of You," from the vantage point of the "You" being God.  And of course, in the deepest sense, this is the only "You," in my spiritual life.   But, I believe, there is a collaborative paradox at work here. It would seem that in plumbing the depths of my relationship with God, and my knowing of Him, I must look within, to the "I AM" of being. And the only way I can discover the changeless nature of God, as Love, is to probe the strength of an unconditional, illimitable capacity to love in myself. And to do that, I need you. I need the canvas of our relationship, to discover that the "I AM" of Love really is all that I believe it to be...fathomless, burdenless, empowering.

So, it makes sense to me, as the Bible says, that,

"God so loved the world,
that He gave His only begotten son..."

God gave us Jesus, so that we would know Him...God.  Mary Baker Eddy urges us to understand that:

"Jesus was the highest human
       concept of the perfect man."

And as "the great Exemplar," his humanity, helped us to understand the breadth of our own divine possibilities, and potential...as mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, neighbors, global citizens, and friends.  In fact, Eddy further avers:

"The divinity of the Christ was made
       manifest in the humanity of Jesus."

and that:

"Through the magnitude of his human life,
he demonstrated the divine Life.
Out of the amplitude of his pure affection, he defined Love."

You are the face of divinity, outlined as humanity, in my life.  Each of you...through the humanity of your compassion-based understanding, your kindness, your forgivenenss, your grace your humor, your generosity of spirit...has given me a window on the nature, character, heart, and voice of God.   And I feel so deeply blessed.

It is not in the words you have spoken, but the way you have said them.  It is not in the things you have done, but how you have done them.  It is not in the things you have given, but the heartbeat...a rhythm just below the more obvious melody of your giving...that has taught me the verity of Eddy's statement:

"Love alone is Life."

Your hugs, phone calls, visits, notes, emails...prayers, have allowed me to feel the embrace of God. And it is this feeling, more than any words -- including the most sacred Scriptures -- that have shown me the living Christ...right here, right now.   You make a difference in my life...every day.

thank you...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS