"be the love, that fear flees...."

"fear is a liar..."

Zach Williams'  "Fear is a Liar,"  is the perfect keynote for this very short post.

This morning, while listening for a divinely-guided sense of purpose in my day, it was this short statement that rose from silence:

"be the love,
that fear flees..."

That was it. As short and simple as a message could be. But it was enough. Love always is. Love isn't asking us to battle with fear. Love is asking us to trust Its Scriptural promise that:

"there is no fear
in love, but perfect love
casts out fear..."

Love isn't a weapon we wield in the face of fear. Love is the presence that fear flees in the face of.

This Love is not a human endeavor. This Love is not an emotional magic trick that we pull out of our hearts. This Love is a power as irresistible and irrevocable as gravity.

It is trust. It is faith. It is the Truth in all truths. It is the infant's curled hand around the finger of the father humbled and weeping in the face of her first touch. It is the shelter dog wiggling like a puppy when he knows he is going "home."

This love is a yielding, not a working at something. This love is restful, it is not filled with human effort. And this true and undeniable love, starts with the realization that there is Something invisible and indivisible at work in the universe - and it is not our thinking about Love, it is Love itself.

Fear cannot oppose this Love. In its omnipresence, fear flees. Fear doesn't need to be chased out. It doesn't need to be battled against, wrestled with, or approached with trepidation. Wherever this Love walks, fear flees. And this Love walks in the dark cavernous places of our blindness, with as much confidence as it does in the light of our sacred sanctuaries. This Love knows no place where Its presence is not known, felt, and surrendered to in complete abject awe.

We think we are afraid of something - disease, anger, pain, lack.  For example:  "I am afraid of ______, and when ______ is eradicated, I will no longer be afraid."  We think that when this scary somethingness is reduced to rubble, kicked out of our bodies, replaced with a better version of reality -- we will no longer be afraid. We think that fear is the result of something bad being present in our lives.  Get rid of the something and fear will go away.  Not true.

Fear is not an effect.  It is not the outcome - or result - of disease, lack, hatred, conflict, disaster. Fear is at their root.  But like the weed that it is, its root is benign, surface, easily kicked up from the dustbowl of its nothingness.  It may produce a large head of tumbleweed - but it has no hold.  The cultivation of the heart's rich soil releases it. And with Love's sure release, the dandelion heads of disease, lack, etc. are reduced to their native nothingness.

When we are so transfixed and deeply in love with our one first and true Love - God, fear slinks away. It has no voice, no threat, no power to disturb the heart that rests in the arms of the one Love that it knows nothing can separate it from.

offered with Love,

Cate 

"lean in toward the light..."

"the shadows of the world will say,
there's no hope -- why try anyway.
every kindness large or slight,
shifts the balance towards the light..."

I am living in a Carrie Newcomer-scored world of hope these days. Her recording of "Lean in Toward the Light." is my get-up-and-go song.

This afternoon my husband and his friend let me crash the tail end of their weekly deep dive into all manner of wonderful subjects. One of the things they were discussing was the concept of sacred truths. I was enthralled.  I could have listened for hours.  As I drove home, I thought about my own sacred cache of truths -- those things that I know to be true in my deepest part of my heart.

Over the last few years, I've done a lot of spiritual housecleaning. I've begun to differentiate between ideas that I find fascinating, stirring, and inspiring -- ideas that I like to ponder and explore, and those that I absolutely know -- and trust -- with every cell of my being. It's a small cadre of spiritual laws, but I lean into them without reservation.

One of those laws is something I think of as "spiritual tropism." As a teacher I remember learning about tropism in order to substitute for a fifth grade plant biology class. I was fascinated.  How did I miss this lesson when I was in middle school?  Webster defines tropism as: "the involuntary turning of all or part of an organism in a particular direction in response to an external stimulus." Think of a leaf turning towards the light, or roots reaching towards water.

This is not a choice made by the plant -- it's leaves, or its root system. It is not something that the plant can resist. It just is. It is a law.

For me, spiritual tropism is the involuntary movement of humanity towards God, Love.  It is seen in an involuntary turning towards goodness, beauty, order, honesty, kindness -- any manifestation of God's presence. This gives me great hope. Because if there is anything that I am absolutely certain of, it is this law. It is a sacred Truth for me -- the irresistible law of Love calling us into alignment with Itself.

This has been especially important to me as a mom. If I were to allow myself to think about my children going out into a world full of moral uncertainty and random unkindness, I would be paralyzed with fear. But when I think of this irresistible law, I am filled with a mother tiger-like fierceness.  For me, affirming the self-enforcing nature of this law -- for every human being on earth -- is a sacred demand.

This was never more powerful for me than when our daughter went to live in post-apartheid South Africa. This was a country in transition. Our daughter was still a teenager. Reports of angry young men preying on young women were ubiquitous. But spiritual tropism was a law. I leaned into it with all my heart. Trusting that the inner qualities of honor, integrity, innocence, and purity were more compelling than anger or lust was a lifeline to my peace. It still is.

As a neighbor and global citizen, I know I must stay firm in my defense of man's inalienable right to be governed by this law.  I cannot afford the luxury of believing that this involuntary call to goodness is a human choice, rather than an ever-operative law.  No matter how much it may look like a plant may have turned away from the light and twisted itself towards the dark, I know -- without a doubt -- that this is only an illusion.

I know that the plant is unable to turn away from the light. Because I understand phototropism as law, I never wonder if suddenly the sunflower will turn away from the light. It has no self-volition. I never worry about rogue flowers or trees.  I am confident in the power of light to draw every plant cell to itself. And because I understand the law of hydrotropism -- the roots of a plant will always seek out water -- I never wonder if the roots of a tree will suddenly start poking through the ground and reaching for the sky.

I feel the same way about each of us. We are impelled to grow in grace, to seek out good, to reach for love, to love honesty, to appreciate beauty, to trust truth.  I trust this law with all my heart.

It is one of my most treasured sacred truths. In its presence I feel secure. In its presence I rest.


offered with Love,

Kate

"a murmured prayer…"

"If it be your will,
that I speak no more,
and my voice be still,
as it was before,

I will speak no more
I shall abide until,
I am spoken for
If it be your will..."

Yesterday I was speaking with a friend. We were trying to find a time to meet for lunch this week. I suggested a date and a place. That was when she helped me remember that Wednesday was Yom Kippur.  Yom Kippur, directly translates from the Hebrew, into English as, "day of atonement."   My friend reminded me that she would be fasting with her family that day. I apologized for not being more aware, and we made other plans.

Yom Kippur is often referred to as the Sabbath of Sabbaths. It's primary themes are atonement and repentance, forgiveness and redemption. Leonard Cohen wrote, "If it Be Your Will," as his murmured prayer. For many, it has become a sacred offering on this day of atonement -- Yom Kippur.

I love its message of self-surrender and grace.  In these lyrics, Cohen offers up his voice - his song - to God. These are the most precious gifts that he - as a poet/singer/songwriter - has to give to the world.  But he is willing to be silent, if it be His will. 

I have been thinking about this very thing - a lot - lately. I love words. I mean, I really love them. The way they flutter in the heart, pour from the page, tenderly comfort in the dark, strengthen our resolve when facing demons, and encourage us when we feel most alone.

But they are only words -- symbols of something deeper than the language of lips, or paper and ink.  They are not the substance of my relationship with the Divine.  They are only my lisping attempt to describe this relationship.  And as much as I know how unwavering my devotion to God is,  there were times when I have wondered: if God asked me to be silent, would I really be able to hold my tongue and my pen? I pray that I would have the courage and the meekness to yield what delights me, to what delights Him.

A number of years ago, during Yom Kippur, I was preparing the text for a talk I had been invited to give. I was feeling confident about the message. I had humbly listened for direction in setting the tone, and honing the core elements, I'd been asked to address.  I'd typed up the final draft and it was sitting on my desk. I felt peaceful.

That was when a small volume caught my eye on the bookshelf. Its leather cover was worn and supple from use. The lay of its weight in my hand was familiar and comforting. I was drawn towards it. So many of the ideas between its covers had been helpful to me in times of confusion and uncertainty. I let it fall open in my palm and my eyes fell on a paragraph that changed the course of my ministry.

I surrendered my words, to the Word. What I had thought I would share went into the trash, and a new message was born. It was all about trusting.  Trusting that "the kingdom of God is within you…" It fell into place like the petals of a flower unfolding. My contribution to that day would be simple. I would step aside and let God speak to each individual.  I would allow space for sacred silence.

It was a life-shifting moment for me. All desire for a platform, and a voice, dissolved. I sensed a new dance being choreographed -- one of stepping aside and letting the Christ speak intimately, clearly, tenderly, and directly to the heart of each of God's beloved children.

Each year, as Yom Kippur softly lands on my calendar - and I am invited into this space of atonement - I am reminded that this holy oneness is between each of us and God. The cry for forgiveness, mercy, redemption, and reformation is whispered. It is imitate and silent. It is a murmured prayer of hope and surrender.

It reminds me of what I have come to think of as King David's most tender psalm:

"the Lord will hear

commune with your own heart
upon your bed,
and be still.
Selah" 

Sometimes we are asked to be silent. To give up the instrument we feel most confident about in ourselves. To step aside and let the divine Voice speak, sing, pray its message in the most intimate of places - the heart.

We are asked to fast from being anything to anyone -- including ourselves. To humbly empty our hearts of self. To know our emptiness and let it be filled by the real substance of what can only, ever, be a symbol to the human mind.

This evening, as the sun sets, my Yom Kippur prayer is a simple one:

"if it be Your will..." 

May your hearts hear the voice of God, and may you find peace.


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

"Slipping through my fingers…"

"I watch them go
with a surge of that
well-known sadness,
and I have to sit down
for a while..."

Confession time. I was a mess. Blotchy face, burning eyes. And although Meryl Streep's performance of Abba's "Slipping Through My Fingers," from the film "Mama Mia," does it to me every time, I didn't need a prompt that night. All I needed to do was think of the girls turning 18 on Saturday, and it hit me once again.

You see, being their (and their sister's) mom for the last 18 years has been everything I ever dreamed of. Caring for each of them, growing with them, nurturing their dreams and watching them become the young women-of-substance that they are today, has been the most extraordinary gift of grace.

And I say gift, because they are just that -- a gift. As an adoptive mom -- who was asked to return her first child to his birthmother -- I understand the heartache of surrender. And because of this, I have never taken for granted what it meant for my daughters' mothers to have chosen adoption as a parenting plan for their beloved children. I have never forgotten that the girls' first mother was - and still is - a selfless, trusting, generous young woman. And I will never forget that choosing to let me care for her daughters - as their second mom - was the greatest gift I have every received.

On Saturday, I will surrender them to their own majority.  They will be women.  They will have been in my heart's womb for 18 years. They have grown stronger in the graces of Spirit, and I have been stretched into newness of heart -- one of deeper spiritual love and trust. The shape of my place in the world has expanded. I no longer see things through my own eyes alone, but through the lens of our children's relationship with the world they will navigate, inhabit, and bless.

Yes, the are slipping through my fingers -- but like water, they will continue to carry forward their own spiritual vision for serving humanity.  They will nourish, and refresh the world they share with their fellow beings.  That said, I still needed a focal point as I moved towards this milestone in our journey together.

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy encourages her readers with this promise:

"Willingness to become as a little child
and to leave the old for the new,
renders thought receptive
of the advanced idea.
Gladness to leave the false landmarks
and joy to see them disappear, — 
this disposition helps to precipitate
the ultimate harmony. " 

Today, I am holding on to this promise for dear life. Letting go of this chapter is not easy for me. I have loved it so much. I have loved being a mommy. I have loved doing their laundry, packing for camp, always knowing where they are, celebrating their victories, and sitting with them when their have hearts needed shared silence. I have loved our road trips and rodeos -- my funny little girls.  I have loved putting them first. I have loved them. I have love them with every fiber of my being. I will always love them  I will always be their mommy.

But you know, no matter how I tried to justify those feelings of melancholy, I couldn't reconcile them with what I know to be true, spiritually. In Truth, our children are not our children. They are His/Hers.  In fact, we are actually all the children of God. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. This is the relationship that is changeless. This is the timeless role that we will play in one another's lives. This is the landmark I must fix my gaze on, and walk towards.

Again, I have found clarity in Science and Health. Eddy gives me something pure and clear to chart my course. She says in her definition of "Children," from the Glossary:

"not in embryo,
but in maturity..." 

We are each fully formed in Love.  This spiritual maturity has been my touchstone throughout their childhood.  It has shaped my sense of what it means to parent.  It has allowed me to trust their wisdom and my own childlikeness.  We are, none of us, "in process." We all stand at the growing tip of spiritual self-discovery. They are ready. I am ready. And like the small bluebird babies that will soon stand on the edge of their world, and leap into flight with wings poised and courage undaunted -- so will we. As Meryl says in the above-linked clip:

"I wouldn't have had it
any other way.
My, God,
look at what we've had..." 

I agree, with all of our ups and downs - tears and triumphs - I wouldn't have had it any other way. I am ready for this next path on our journey together as children of one supremely wise and loving God.  I am so grateful that we have been blessed with all the spiritual tools we will need to navigate these steps forward with Grace. As Eddy says:

"Press on.
The way is narrow at first,
but it expands as we walk in it."
- Mary Baker Eddy 

If the steps we have taken together - so far - are any indication of the path we cannot yet see, the view will be beautiful, the companionship rich, and the days big with blessing.

with all my love -- and with Love,

Mommy

"It's out of my hands..."

"It's out of my hands.

It's out of my reach. 

It's over my head, 

and it's out of my league. 

There's too many things

that I don't understand.

So it's into Your will, 

and it's out of my hands..."

If I didn't already believe in spiritual serendipity, finding Matthew West's "Out of my Hands" would have have "had me at hello."

It's lyrics have been like a blessed benediction on months spent humbly praying, "Not my will, but Thine be done."

I've always loved planning, strategizing, making lists, and crossing off tasks which take me, one step closer, to an achieved goal. It's long been something I really thought I was good at.

But over the last few years, the obstacles have seemed insurmountable, the lists daunting, and our resources sorely tested. There have been days when just "doing the math" would have been a form of torture, had it not been for an understanding of God as our divine Parent,  and remembering that the goal was "growth in grace -- expressed in patience, meekness, Love and good deeds." Not the achievement of human perfectionism.

Day-by-day, opening my hand to surrender control -- and thereby opening it towards God's infinite wisdom and love -- has been a rigorous spiritual practice for me.

But you know, the more overwhelming and daunting the demands, the easier the practice.  In fact, as long as I thought I might be able to take control, get it right, make it happen, or figure it out, I was tempted to try.

And once I realized that there was absolutely no human solution to the equation, I yielded. And when I did, I could feel something in me release.  I'd find myself relaxing into an openness of heart, ready to accept the next divine gift in fresh, new, unsought ways.  A willingness to be surprised by His remarkable "ways past finding out."  

Extremity of demand, seemed to dissolve the personal specificities of want, into more universal desires for scientific Truth. I no longer had an agenda.  I no longer needed to know exactly how God was going to fix my problems, I just wanted to know what was true for everyone, in every situation, at all times.

I no longer needed to figure out the "how" of God's solutions, but could step more innocently into the deep waters of a childlike trust in His profound Love for His creation.

It's been such a peaceful place of total surrender where I pray --  moment-by-moment -- "Not my will, but Thine be done." It's a sacred space, a vast well of possibilities, a fathomless reservoir of opportunities for letting myself be buoyed by His infinite care.

offered with Love,

Kate

"what if your healing comes through tears..."

"Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?"

As I was sorting through some bits of notebook paper, newsprint, old greeting cards, and calendar pages in my quote collection this morning, I came upon this tiny gem. Someone had shared it with me along the way:

"A bad day for your ego,
is a great day for your soul."

I didn't need the reminder of that little piece of folded paper. It's a message I've had tattooed on my heart for the last few years. It's saved me from heartache, anger, resentment, and despair over and over again.

And yes, for the sake of clarification, I know that I don't have a personal "soul." Soul is another name for God. So, when I read the word in the context of this quote, I am thinking about the heart, the kingdom of heaven within, the consciousness of good, a God-based inner life.

Therefore, when my sense of being is defined by a "me"...an ego...that is separate from the impartial and universal good of collective humanity, then any situation I face that isn't sweet with personal success, promise, or achievement...is a bad day for my ego. But when I am looking at myself from the standpoint of being just one molecule in the body of Christ, every opportunity to humbly fall on my knees in service to others...to the whole, is a gift of grace.

What "the world" looks like from the lowly posture of humble service, is a world filled with higher, inspired, enlightened, exalted beings. When I stop looking at myself through the lens of otherness (a lens that invites comparison), or in the context of another's accomplishments (vs. my failures) all I can see is the good that is being experienced by God's blessed creation. What to me might look like a flat tire...a failure to have been more aware before getting on the road, to my neighbor might appear as an opportunity to be a good samaritan, to be at the height of his/her neighborly best. Only my ego, a separate, personal sense of being, would prevent me from seeing the presence of God's gifts in that moment.

Isn't this the Easter message? Isn't this the supreme gift of grace from a man who surrendered a personal sense of his life story with all it's drama: betrayal, crucifixion, and scorn...in order to show us the power of Love, and its capacity to heal, transform, and resurrect the heart's hope for salvation and purpose.

So, as I think considered all the ways the ego might try to undermine my ability to see the face of God, right in front of me, at all times, today...and everyday, this post from last year came to mind. Laura Story's message of surrender to grace is one I can never get enough of. A link to her own "telling" of it is at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy its resharing:

What if your blessings come through raindrops..."

My friend, Lauri, told me about this beautiful Laura Story song, "Blessings"  yesterday afternoon.  She said that it had been shared as part of her church's worship service on Sunday.  She thought that it might resonate with me.  Might?  Oh my goodness, it resonates with me very deeply...so much so, that I am almost rendered speechless. 

I'd already prepared a post for today when...after picking up the girls from soccer, getting dinner, baths, laundry, and then returning office calls...I was able to search out this song on Youtube.  From the minute I heard the first verse, that other post was put on the back burner until Thursday's sharing.   Unless something else crosses my path in the meantime...

If you have ever felt like you've prayed all night for answers, and all you've heard were more questions;  if you've slept on your knees and woke, not comforted, but with a despairing hunger that kept you there all the next day;  if your heart has shattered, and in the shards you've discovered tear-honed treasures of sea glass -- more precious than diamonds...then this song may touch you as deeply as it has reach itself into my soul tonight.  

One of my favorite statements, by Mary Baker Eddy, washesd through me, as I listened to it's powerful message:

"The very circumstance
which your suffering sense
deems wrathful and afflictive,
Love can make an angel
entertained unawares. 
Then thought gently whispers,
"Come hither..."

Love is calling us, and it is calling us closer to that very circumstance which a suffering sense...of life and being...would deem wrathful and afflictive.   Sometimes this is all I need, to stay on my knees as long as it takes, to actually feel Love's presence...right there....right there in that moment, in that place.  Because, right there...is my home.

I have typed out Laura's lyrics below...they were my prayer last night, they are my prayer today. 

Thank you Father for your blessings...especially the ones that come through raindrops and tears...

"We pray for blessings.
We pray for peace.
Comfort for family,
protection while we sleep.
We pray for healing,
for prosperity.
We pray for Your mighty hand,
to ease our suffering.

All the while,
You hear each spoken need.
Yet love is way too much,
to give us lesser things.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing
comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life,
are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom,
Your voice to hear.
We cry in anger,
when we cannot feel You near.

We doubt your goodness.
We doubt your love.
As if every promise,
from Your Word is not enough.

All the while,
You hear each desperate plea,
and long that we'd have faith to believe.

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights,
are what it takes to know You're near?

When friends betray us.
When darkness seems to win.
We know that pain reminds this heart,
that this is not, this is not our home.
It's not our home....

'Cause what if your blessings
come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if my greatest disappointments,
or the aching of this life,
Is the revealing of
a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?
What if trials of this life...
the rain, the storms, the hardest nights...
are your mercies in disguise?"

This message embraces the sweetness of a salvation-based spiritual journey...one that weeps with Christ in Gethsemane, stands with him...braced by love...for the kiss, walks with him through jeering crowds, watches with his mother at the cross, and rises early...wrapped in the fragrance of sweet spices...to find the promise in a tomb. For me, this is a song of Easter...of deathless hope, and resurrected joy. Not in spite of our trials, but within the folds of the burial cloth...to discover the perfume of Life.

Here is a video clip of Laura Story explaining the impetus for her journey in writing  this song...blessings to you and yours.    Thanks Lauri, for sharing this song with me...you were right, I love it...

with Love,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"And the river's like my body now..."

"In the ever-shifting water

of the river of this life

I was swimming, seeking comfort;

I was wrestling waves to find

A boulder I could cling to,

a stone to hold me fast

Where I might let the fretful water

of this river 'round me pass



And so I found an anchor,

a blessed resting place

A trusty rock I called my savior,

for there I would be safe

From the river and its dangers,

and I proclaimed my rock divine

And I prayed to it "protect me"

and the rock replied:



God is a river, not just a stone

God is a wild, raging rapids

And a slow, meandering flow

God is a deep and narrow passage

And a peaceful, sandy shoal

God is the river, swimmer

So let go



Still I clung to my rock tightly

with conviction in my arms

Never looking at the stream

to keep my mind from thoughts of harm

But the river kept on coming,

kept on tugging at my legs

Till at last my fingers faltered,

and I was swept away



So I'm going with the flow now,

these relentless twists and bends

Acclimating to the motion,

and a sense of being led

And this river's like my body now,

it carries me along

Through the ever-changing scenes

and by the rocks that sing this song



God is a river, not just a stone

God is a wild, raging rapids

And a slow, meandering flow

God is a deep and narrow passage

And a peaceful, sandy shoal

God is the river, swimmer

So let go



God is the river, swimmer

So let go ..."

- Peter Mayer

Sometimes you think a song just says it all...until an angel comes along, all dressed in stripey leggings and short skirts, sassy dresses and western boots...and she leaves a poem on your pillow to sing you to sleep while you dream along the river's edge, Sam Hopple wrote this poem, and sent it along today. I am so grateful she was willing to let me share her beautiful words:



she breathes in the water of the arkansas valley

flowing with the current over mossed rocks and sleeping boulders

her path is sometimes met by churning and sharp wavelengths

slamming her to shore and caking her with mud

a strong faith calls her to dive back head first

and the moment she arrives in the space of a placid eddie

she is peaceful



down the stream she dances

gliding in perfect rhythm to the beat of the stream

a melody shines forth

and she joins the chorus...

like a river song....



I have nothing to add to this...it is practically perfect in every way...



Kissing your eyelids goonight...sweet dreams in London town Miss Samantha Demarest King Hopple. The River and the Valley are waiting for you to fly in from the East on the angel wings you discovered in a little shoppe on Carnaby Street.Your mommy and daddy would be so proud of you, and your devotion to all that they stand for...goodness, faith, strength in adversity, peace in a storm, children on horses, in cabins, rafts...and the River...oh, how they love that River!!



thank you for honoring me with your words,



mum

Kate Robertson, CS



Another friend suggested that I include this link to,"God is a River...let go"a post written in 2007 about Peter Mayer's amazing song.

"Prayer for this Child..."

"...I do not know how I am to pray for this child
as a mother I don't want my baby denied
but in the waiting in the waiting
I learned to hold onto the heart of God..."

I discovered this song, "Prayer for this Child," by Sara Groves, just when my heart was ready for a reminder that He holds us all...babies, toddlers, children, teens, adults...all of us held in the wideness of His heart, the vastness of His omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient care. 

Two days ago we sent almost one hundred teens out on their four-day outcamp trips.  Whitewater rafters headed south for a put-in along the Arkansas River.  They would navigate the rushing rapids of the Arkansas between here and Salida, and each night camp under the stars along its banks.  

Horsemanship campers headed east and west for the high country on wise, gentle steeds.  They would traverse ravines and carefully walk their horses along  mountain trails that lead higher and higher.

Mountaineering programs will hike, camp and peak 14,000 foot mountains...one program peaking two mountains in the course of three days...and mountain bikers will cover over one hundred miles of trail over canyons, along ridges, and through ancient aspen groves.  The photography group will look through their lens at flora and fauna so extraordinary I wonder if they will even want to come back after experiencing such serene beauty and divine grandeur.

But these trips will also be full of opportunities for each rafter, mountaineer, rider, photographer, and biker to push through old personal boundaries.  Almost every camper and counselor will face a wall where an old, outgrown sense of self will say "thus far and no farther," but which a new born (and borne) sene of self will greet with "bring it on" courage and eagerness.

My grandma used to say, "You never want the Comforter as long as you are comfortable!"  These kids will not be comfortable.  They will definitely find themselves well outside of their former humanly circumscribed comfort zones.  And they will want the Comforter!!!  So many years of being on tiptoe with expectation in supporting these spiritual adventures has taught me that this longing for the Comforter...is a given.

"...Every instinct in me wants to shield him from pain
take the arrows of misery heartache and blame
but in the sorrow in the sorrow
I learned to hold onto the heart of God..."

I remember one summer some years ago, when my daughter was in the Whitewater Rafting program for the second -- or was it the third -- year.   They had gone out on their three-day trips and I was joyously engaged in my work...praying for the safety of each camper, and the peace and joy of each program. 

It was a beautiful three days.  Sunny and hot with a cool breeze off the still snow-cevered mountains during the day, and cool, clear, star-lit nights.  My prayers had started and ended with God's All-in-allness, and although there were a few calls from the mountains or river for specific support, it was a very peace-filled and inspiring three days.

I was grateful to hear their whoops and hollers of joy upon returning to camp for hot showers and bunks that, although not tempurpedic-mold-to-your-body comfortable, were still softer than a sleeping bag and foam mat under the stars in a scree field.  I was eager to learn about the spiritual healings they had experienced. I couldn't wait for them to share insights gained and self-discoveries made while on their three-day trips. I was eager for the camp testimony meeting later that evening. 

"...I only have two eyes -  but You are The all seeing
I only have two hands - but You are The everywhere
I do not know enough - but You are The all knowing
I give my babies up into your care..."

As I sat on my porch silently giving thanks for their safe return...smiling at campers walking by covered in happy grime and carrying backpacks filled with dirty clothes...I watched for my own river-scented daughter and her best friend to come up from the raft barn sun-kissed and silly with brand new best-friend memories already starting to gel in their hearts.

But once I caught a glimpse of Hannah's face, I knew something had happened that I might not hear about right away.  And I didn't.  However in that moment it was alright. I somehow knew that there had been a moment of divine intervention, and I rested my need "to know the details" on that alone.

"...I long to know how I am to pray for this child
I want to guard him from everything wicked and wild
but in the trial in the trial
I learned to hold on..."

Weeks later, soon after we returned home, Hannah shared her story with no drama...very typically Hannah!

They had been riding blissfully down the river.  Each raft filled with a counselor and his/her boat family.  It was a very peaceful stretch of river, and everyone was relaxed under the clear, cloudlessly blue  Colorado sky...waiting, with oars at the ready, for the next stretch of rapids.   Hannah was sitting high on the side of the raft when they hit an invisible "hole" and she was popped out of the raft  and into the arms of the river.  This was not disturbing to her at all.  "Swimming" is fun for a rafter.  But this time, something was different.  She was pulled under and one of the straps from her Teva sandals got snagged on a hidden boulder and she couldn't get loose.

On the surface, still in the raft, a fellow rafter felt something impel him to follow Hannah into the river.  Then it told him to dive beneath the surface and locate Hannah.  Only then was it revealed that she was in trouble and needed help in extricating her sandal's webbing from the sharp point on the boulder that was holding her under the surface where she would soon have been unable to breathe.

Within moments both rafters bobbed to the surface, climbed into the raft, and their trip continued on down the river to their next camping site.

Hannah told me she was "fine" right away.

That's the story....no interpretation.  Hannah did not give a testimony during the church service that night at camp.  It makes me wonder how many beautiful stories of divine intervention, guidance, and healing - expereinced on three-day trips - are never shared publicly each summer.  

As her mom, I could never have known exactly what needed to be specifically prayed about with regard to this experience....but I could always know...with all my being...that God was with each camper and counselor.  I could affirm that  God never ceases to live "on purpose" as unconditional, omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient (all-knowing), impartial and universal Love.  I could rest my mother's heart on this fact as divine law...always in operation, always reliable, always wise and at the ready.

"...And in the trial, in your trials
You'll learn to hold on to the heart of God..."

As a mother I have learned that inner peace in only found in "holding on to the heart of God" and trusting His love for my children...and all children.   In these moments of trial we learn so much about the constancy of His love for each of us.

with loving trust in His omniscience...always,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2009 - Adventure Unlimited Ranches]

"...just around the river bend..."

"What I love most about rivers is
you can't step in the same river twice.
The water's always changing,
always flowing
But people I guess can't live like that
They all must pay a price
To be safe we lose our chance
of ever knowing

What's around the river bend
Waiting just around the river bend
I look once more just around the river bend
Beyond the shore where the gulls fly free
Don't know what for
What I dream the day might send
just around the river bend
For me, coming for me...."
-     Alan Menken
"Just Around the River Bend"
(click on the title above for a link to the video)

She was 6 years old and fully aware of her own "promise" as she stood there that bright, hot summer afternoon in 1994.  It was the end-of-season performance for her summer arts camp, and she was Pocahontas. Together we had created her costume out of chamois (soft, pliable natural leather sold for polishing cars) we bought in ragged pieces at the local auto supply store.  She and I had worked tirelessly cutting fringe and sewing on small, colorful glass beads.  Her long hair was braided, tied with thin strips of the same chamois, and woven with flowers.  She looked every bit the strong, self-assured Indian princess.

As she threw her arms out for those final words..."Just around the river bend..." my heart caught in my throat and the moment was captured forever in memory as a moment I didn't want to ever forget. 

This is still one of my favorite mental pictures of our strong, beautiful daughter who has just finished her matric exams in South Africa.  And yes, I do believe that the Dream-giver still waits for her...and for all of us.

Recently my husband accepted an assignment in another city - work that is "on purpose" with his sense of mission and honors our vision and values as a family.  As soon as we knew that this was the right thing for him, the organization he is working with, and our family, I wanted to know "What does this mean for us...down the road? What's next?"

My husband gave me a great gift.  He said, "you don't have to know that right now."  He went on to explain that today we know everything we need to know.  We knew that our youngest children are happy in their school.  We knew that his housing was being taken care of where he was going.  We knew that if there was a need he could be home on a flight in a matter of hours.  We knew that I love what I do, and that I love where I am privileged to be working.  We knew that our older children were happy and at peace in the cities they lived in, the friends they were surrounded by, the schools they attended, and the jobs they held.  We...I really didn't need to know anything more at that moment.  I was at peace.

As I look back at the ensuing months, I realize that -- for the most part -- I have held that peace.  There have been very few moments where I have felt panicky about "not knowing." But when people have asked me "what's next," I have been completely confident in saying, "we don't know anything more than that we are all in our right place, doing what we love, and happy...today."

I know that when we need to know more...we will.  I know that whether this "chapter" is brief, or whether it lasts for years, we are fine.  We love eachother.  We are doing work we love and having opportunities to bless that we would not have otherwise. 

For the most part, I am at peace "not knowing" what's around the river bend.  Perhaps I've learned something from that little Pocahontas of mine.  Perhaps she has taught me that I too have promise and that I can trust that the God who blessed me with promise, will bring it to pass.

Mary Baker Eddy says that,

"Security for the claims of harmonious and eternal being
is found only in divine science." 

This is a statement worth resting my hopes, dreams...and yes, promise...on.  In this divine Science where God, good is All-in-all,  Love is the only law-giver, and I am secure and safe. In this kingdom, the province of the heart,  there is but one supreme, beneficent Sovereign who loves me, and mine, and all.  Anything that dwells there...dreams, hopes, vision..are under His divine control and I can trust His wise oversight to know where, when, and how to bring it all to pass. 

I can always feel the presence of the great Dream-giver assuring me of His presence, and I can trust...just trust...

Perhaps you, too, can feel it....  

"...I feel it there beyond those trees
Or right behind these waterfalls
Can I ignore that sound
of distant drumming?

Should I choose the smoothest course
steady as the beating drum...
...Is all my dreaming at an end?
Or do you still wait for me, Dream-giver,
just around the river bend...?

with Love...
River Song
Kate Robertson, CS

"May the Lord...."

"May the Lord protect and defend you.
May He always shield you from shame.
May you come to be
In Israel a shining name.

May you be like Ruth and like Esther.
May you be deserving of praise.
Strengthen them, Oh Lord,
And keep them from the strangers' ways...".
- "Sabbath Prayer
from "Fiddler on the Roof"

So, here it is, Dayenu Part Two (if you haven't read the previous post - scroll down to the next article below this one - it might help to understand what I am talking about)...it was like God said, "Okay, you think this is so easy...time to head into the lab and do some real scientific application of this law of Dayenu. 

I failed.  Miserably.

Monday morning I wrote the earlier post below, "Dayenu....it would have been enough" and Tuesday morning all hell broke loose.  Or so it felt.  The battery on my alarm clock must have run out of enough juice to keep accurate time somewhere in the middle of the night, but a phone call came in only 5 minutes after what I had set the alarm for and I was fully awake in seconds...Dayenu...even if God had only intervened and woken me up on time...it would have been enough!

The girls started in on eachother at the breakfast table, but at least they were dressed and ready to head out the door...Dayenu - it would have been enough!

I won't drag this out...

We finally got backpacks, lunches, band instruments, and clothed, shod, fed, and brushed daughters (not horses) out the door and into the car....Dayenu.

As we backed out of the driveway and headed down our little lane towards the main road to school I remembered that I didn't have my cellphone - so grateful for the divine reminder...Dayenu.

As we backed up, quickly returning to our driveway, Emma noticed a stream of water pouring out from under our car. She pointed it out to me.  I was so grateful. We were close to home, able to pull back into our driveway - at this point you should read, "oh my gosh, I am so glad we were not broken down on Clayton Road, with me in my nightgown and just a parka over top. Oh, and sweatpants pulled on hastily....Dayenu...BIG Dayenu.

We walked back in the house and I immediately picked up the phone to call the girls' dad. He assured me that he could come pick them up so they wouldn't be late for school - he was on our doorstep in less than 15 minutes...Dayenu.

I called my husband who is on assignment in another city, he picked up his cell phone immediately and within minutes he called me back having arranged for AAA to come tow the car, and for the repair shop to accept it into their queque, bumping it up in their list of urgent need cases....Dayenu.

But that's about where my Dayenu resevoir started to sputter....I lost it when I couldn't find the extra set of keys to send with the AAA driver.

You would think all those Dayenus would have me singing "El Shaddai" in the shower, but no.  It had me bawling my eyes out while my husband sat speechless on the other end of the phone in Boston.

I couldn't see beyond the empty hook where my keys should have been. 

Something in me forgot that God was with me and that He, God, always had the best interests of His children at heart.   I forgot all the cases of precedence set by Hebrew families escaping the tyranny of Pharoah's Egypt, the bravery of a boy with five smooth stones facing Goliath of Gath, a pregnant young girl with only an angel's message to strengthen her resolve, and a boy with a mission to heal and save.  I forgot.  And because I forgot, I felt alone and frightened.

As each seemingly insurmountable - at least to me in my state of terror - challenge presented itself over the ensuing 24 hours, I battled...and held at bay...those fears, but without the natural joy and confidence that comes from looking back at how good God had already been to me, and mine, and all the children of the Most High he had cared for through the centuries.

And it was getting worse....

I had lost my focus on Dayenu, and was looking around every corner anticipating the next "surprise," trying to anticipate how I would collect the chiilden from school, get to church, visit patients, buy groceries. Thank goodness for the kindness of a dear friend....again, and again, and again.

But finally I had a sweet breakthrough...or should I say God broke through my myopia. 

I was walking to the Starbucks near our home for an "office" appointment, and as I reached the curb - pushing the button that would briefly stop busy traffic so that I could cross safely - I felt this overwhelming surge of "Dayenu...it would have been enough!" gratitude for that crosswalk signal.  It was an extremely cold day, I was not as well prepared for how the wind would affect my perception of temperatures as I should have been...and it was bitterly cold.  I was so grateful that, "Even if all this day held for me was a very quickly responding crosswalk signal, Dayenu....it would have to be...but no, that's not what the word means...Dayenu means "it would have BEEN enough".   The word Dayenu stands at the other side of the Red Sea and says..."Wow, even if we had only made it here...but we didn't, we made it all the way across on dry land because the sea split....but even if it hadn't, it would have been enough."

I needed to trust that verb tense...I needed to see myself on the other side of the Red Sea looking back at two walls of water on either side of a dry path through the sea's sandy, shell-strewn floor collapsing and returning to a living, life-suppporting, healthy sea full of whale, porpoise, crab, kelp, and sea anemones. 

So I started over...."Dayenu, even if all God did was save me from finding myself on the side of the road in my nightie and parka...it would have been enough!" But that wasn't all...it never is!

No matter where you find yourself in any given moment, remember how far God has already taken you, see yourself on the other side...whether the other side is a bright morning after a long, dark night of pain and sorrow, the unforseeable resolution to a seemingly endless series of financial woes, the peace that follows a tsunami of fear and worry...see yourself there, looking back at the Red Sea He has parted, and will always, part for you. 

Dayenu is a Sabbath prayer....the sabbath worshippers were celebrating the Passover...the Shabbat meal.  The celebration of "And the Lord saw all that He had made, and behold it was very good.  Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them."  How could I have missed that.  Dayenu was a benediction....not a prayer of petition.

Dayenu...it would have been enough...again.

with love,
Kate

"Dayenu....it would have been enough..."

"Even if all He did was bring us out of Egypt.
Dayenu - it would have been enough!
Even if He had only  split the sea for us.
Dayenu - it would have been enough!
If He had only led us through on the dry land.
Dayenu - it would have been enough!
Even if He had only provided for our needs
in the wilderness for 40 years.
Dayenu - it would have been enough!
Even if He had only fed us the manna.
Dayenu - it would have been enough!"

I was running, more than a bit, late for church on Sunday morning...not a good idea when you are supposed to be co-conducting the service...and once I finally got in the car, I turned the radio on, only to catch the very tail end of NPR's "Faith Matters."  Since they haven't put the February 1st program online yet, I don't have precise details about the name of the guest, or even why she was the guest...so please forgive me. ...but, what matters most for this post is what she said in those last few moments. A word that has stayed with me ever since. 

She was funny. And her comments were compelling. I believe that she said her childhood faith was Judaism...I think she even may have suggested, at one point, that she was an agnostic, but followed it, chuckling, that if she were to believe in a God at all, it would be the Jewish God...but this wasn't the important part.  It was what she shared next, that stuck with me. It was the word, "Dayenu" [phonetically: di ay nu]

Wikipedia defines Dayenu as a Hebrew word, or concept, that means, approximately, "it would have been enough for us" or "it would have sufficed."  It is also the title of a Passover celebration song, an adaptation of the traditional lyrics are listed above. It is a song that is over one thousand years old.  According to Wiki, and the "Faith Matters" guest, "Rachel" this song is about being grateful to God for all the gifts that he gave the Jewish people, such as taking them out of slavery, giving them the Torah (the law) and Shabbat (the sabbath rest). It is a recognition that even if God had only given one of His gifts, it would still would have been enough. 

I don't know how much of the program was left at that point, because I was deep in reverie.  I was writing my own Dayenu song.  Even if God had only given me the promise of motherhood, showing me that He had faith in my capacity to love by letting me become a teacher, it would have been enough.  Even if He had only given me the gift of adopting our first daughter, it would have been enough.  Even if God had only given me one moment of being loved the way my husband loves me, it would have been enough.  Even if God had only given me one sister/girlfriend who understood my heart, it would have been enough.   But....and the list of all the heaped on blessings from my uber-generous Father-Mother God goes on and on and on. 

I was lost in gratitude for how much I had been shown of His face, Her love in my life.  Gone was the stress of rushing out the door, worrying about whether I would have the "welcome to our service" sign on the sidewalk in time, the hymn numbers written on the whiteboard, the order of services in order.   I was in the space of Dayenu.

As soon as the program finished...so that would have been about 10AM...I realized that my gas tank was beyond empty.  The warning light had gone on three days earlier on my way home from office hours at the college, and although I hadn't driven far, my Jeep is a very thirsty girl.   I started looking for a gas station immediately and was grateful to be able to pull over within a few minutes to refuel...Dayenu.   But once I got out of the car to use the pump, the credit card reader wouldn't work...but there was a nice young man willing to help me...Dayenu.  Then the pump itself wouldn't work...again another helpful attendant...Dayenu.  By the time I reached church I had had a string of small Dayenu moments so long that I had forgotten about the time.

I was surprised when I walked into church and discovered that somehow I had made the trip (which normally takes 25-30 minutes) in 12 minutes. And no, I did not speed.  Speeding is impossible with 21 stoplights between here and there (and yes, I did count them on my way home).  My partner in conducting the services had had a very similar experience on her way to church.  An important call for help from a beloved daughter overseas, no time to spare, too much time to make up, and yet she too arrived at church much before she expected.  As we sat there looking at the circle of participants gathering for the service, waiting for the clock to move towards our start time...it was clear that we had both experienced the gift of time expanding to meet our needs.  Later we did discover that the church clock was a bit slow...but nowhere near the almost 15 minutes that were given to us that morning....Dayenu.

I am learning that Dayenu is not just a benediction of gratitude on divine gifts received from a generous God, but a posture for walking in this world. 

It is not enough to say, "well gosh God, thanks for the exodus from Egypt, but what the heck are we supposed to do here in the middle of the desert without food or water?"

Dayenu is a space of "dear God, if all you would have done were to deliver us from Pharoah, it would have been enough...but to show us your love in enabling us to make that trip in fellowship and to have arrived here at the edge of the sea where we can bathe our dusty feet....Dayenu.   And the sea parted.

There are thousands of moments in each day, moments when our lives may seem to look like we are sitting in the sand with Pharoah and his men bearing down on us with a vengence. Days when we feel as if we are trapped between the desert of disappointed human hopes, and a sea of fear so vast we feel paralyzed and immobile...but that is a moment for a song...a song of Dayenu.

Try staying in the temple of Dayenu today...it's a lovely place to dwell. And in this space, you don't have to choose a Jewish God, or a Christian God, or a Muslim, God or a Buddhist God....you can have them all...in One.   The One whose name is I AM, El Shaddhai, Jehovah, and Love....mostly, for me, Love.

And since I couldn't find a good version of the song "Dayenu" on Youtube, I will leave you with this song of praise from Amy Grant's, "El Shaddai."  It is one of my favorties ever.  It is a prayer.  I will list the lyrics below.

And if you need help thinking through how your day is filled with moments of Dayenu: "Even if God only ______, it would have been enough" just give me a call.  Together we can have our own moment of "El Shaddai." There's nothing I'd rather share with a friend.

"El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.

Through your love and through the ram,
You saved the son of abraham;
Through the power of your hand,
Turned the sea into dry land.
To the outcast on her knees,
You were the God who really sees,
And by your might,
You set your children free.

El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.

Through the years youve made it clear,
That the time of christ was near,
Though the people couldnt see
What messiah ought to be.
Though your word contained the plan,
They just could not understand
Your most awesome work was done
Through the frailty of your son.

El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonai,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
I will praise yo till I die,
El shaddai.

El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonai,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
I will praise you till I die.
El shaddai."

with Love,

Kate