"and I want to remember..."

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

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

When I'm feeling tired of myself
and everyone,

Lord remind me,
Lord remind me..."

This post (from last year) is my invitation to join in an "advent" celebration of the 24 questions and answers from the chapter "Recapitulation" from Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. This deep, and reverent, dive has been transformative for me.  

But, this post is about so much more. It is about the meaning and power of Christmas in our lives. I hope you find it helpful -- and hopeful -- as you enter this blessed season....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Jon and Valerie sing with such reverence and humility:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sang through tears of repentance and joy:

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

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

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


offered with Love,

Kate

"because I knew you..."

"who can say if I've been
changed for the better,
but because I knew you,
I have been changed for good..."

I was deeply moved watching Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel's final performance of "For Good." What a beautiful way to circle back, bringing sweet closure to a year that has been full of opportunities for spiritual growth -- but all, for good.

I can't help but think of the experiences and people that have touched my life. Each one has changed me -- for good. Yes, each one for good.  For good [vs. for bad] -- but also for good, meaning forever. Because of you, I will never be the same shy girl, the broken waif, the bitter teen, the confused and self-destructive young woman, I once was.

It didn't happen in a flash. But it happened. Little by little, each of you has given me an insight, an experience, a perspective that has shifted my sense of things, and these shifts in consciousness have changed me -- for good.

I noticed a significant change just the other day. I was having an online conversation with another woman. She was describing a new project she was excited about. And I was just as excited for her as I would have been if I were launching a new venture. There was no comparison, no desire to respond with my own accomplishment, none of the old feelings of failure. I was genuinely happy. Not just for her, but for the world we share -- I was happy that something new and beautiful was being born, and it didn't have to have anything to do with me.

I've been thinking a lot about this since that realization. I have noticed how content I feel with my life. All the old ambition to "become" something has melted away. All the desire for having the cutest house on the block -- is gone. I feel peaceful in a way that I can't ever remember feeling before. It's lovely.

I have been changed -- for good. There is a deep contentment in witnessing the accomplishments, successes, and achievements of others. There is peace in just showing up for my life -- my family, my friends, my community, my work -- without the need to prove anything to anyone, but God.

Recently I have been looking deeply into what Mary Baker Eddy's writings contribute to my relationship with others. There are too many profound insights to share in one post, but this long-loved statement from her autobiography, Retrospection and Introspection bears repeating:

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

Yes, it implies the importance of sustained affection between friends. But "no greater miracle?" When I was a girl, my family moved around -- a lot. My sister was my only enduring relationship. We had our ups and downs. We shared a bedroom, clothes, friends, and interests. We fought. Because I really didn't have any other long-term relationships -- until after high school, I was ill-equipped for the comings and goings of affection in friendship. I thought everyone would be like my sister. Regardless of what we'd done, or said, to one another -- we couldn't "break up." Not so.

It took me many years to discover that my relationship with my sister was one of the most precious gifts in my life. But it also took me as many years to discover that I needed to nurture friendships beyond what was easy or even necessarily expected. If I wanted to understand the "miracle," it was incumbent upon me to invest the time, attention, affection, and forgiveness that it would take for any version of "us," to weather the ups and down of being in relationship with another human being. Over the years, I began to see the profound wisdom in Eddy's words. Each of those relationships have, and continue to, change me for good -- and that's the miracle.

But what about the other relationships in my life -- the ones that I can't file under the heading of "friend?"  What about those people who have come into my life, and for one reason or another -- or at one moment or another -- I might have had a contentious, envious, dismissive, or even just less than friendly relationship with. The people I've been hurt by -- or more tragically -- have hurt with my own words and actions. For a long time, I believed that the best thing to do was to walk away. Yes, forgive - or hope to be forgiven, but walk away. These statements - among many in Eddy's prose writings - from an article titled, "Love Your Enemies," have often called me up short:

"Who is thine enemy that thou shouldest love him?
Is it a creature or thing outside thine own creation?

We have no enemies. Whatever envy hatred, revenge,
-- the most remorseless motives that govern mortal mind --
whatever these try to do, shall "work together for
good to them that love God." 

It has taken me years to realize that by being willing to cross swords with my own sense of being a victim, or a villain, I have become less judgmental, and more compassionate, patient, and  kind. In short, it is the relationships that I once considered "less than friendly," that have changed me the most, and nurtured the qualities in myself that I most love.

This has been particularly true in relationships where I have been the one to have made mistakes in judgment. By learning to say "I'm sorry," rather than run away from a situation rife with self-reproach, I have discovered that I am bigger than my mistakes.

I believe that each person that comes into our lives, either by example or engagement, encourages us to grow in grace -- in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds.  I believe this is why our Lord's Prayer begins "Our Father..." To discover the very best in ourselves -- humility, compassion, courage, meekness -- we need each other.  I can't become my best, without you.  

No matter who you are, where our relationship started -- or stands today -- because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

with Love,

Kate

"Whatever you're doing inside of me..."

"Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos, yet somehow there's peace.
It's hard to surrender, to what I can't see.
But I'm giving in to something heavenly..."

I have such great friends.  They send me the kind of gifts that are able to make a paradigm-shattering difference in my life...quotes, songs, ideas, scripture, lyrics. 

Maria sent me a link to Sanctus Real's "Whatever You're Doing," because she thought it would resonate with me.  And did it ever!  Her gift, made me feel known.  For me, there isn't any gift, more wonderful...that one person can give to another...than the gift of being known.

And she was right.  This song speaks to me...profoundly.  The past few years have been full of experiences, and feelings, that could have been interpreted as "chaos," but were actually the very adventure I needed in order to face, and dissolve a false hunger to be "in control," to be on top of things....to look like I had it all together.  And it was this need for control, or mastery, in every situation, that had long kept me from lasting peace...

But fortunately, there came a turning point.  And it's impetus didn't come from the poking, or encouragement, of others...it came from within.  The Holy Spirit was doing something in me...uninvited. 

After years of praying to a God I thought I believed to be all-powerful, and infinitely loving...at least to/for everyone else, I realized I wasn't acting like I thought God "had my back"...at all.  This realization was shell-shattering.  I had to reconcile my desire for control, with my lack of trust in Him, and His ability to care for the real issues in my life.

I had to face myself in the mirror.  And it wasn't pretty.  Standing there, I asked myself:  "Self, why have you been living a fear-paralyzed life, when you know you have every right to be Love-driven and Love-empowered?  And more importantly, what are you modeling for the children in my life...fear or Love? 

Yes, I'd thought...all along...that I had been doing it right.  I'd made the best decisions, and choices, I knew how.  But my trust in God had been evolving, and it was time for something new to awaken in me, and burst from the shell of who I'd been. 

Over the ensuing days, weeks, months...the questioning continued.  Was I making decisions based on fear, as in:  "If I don't..........., then I'm afraid I will never have that opportunity to .........., again." You fill in the blanks.   I started to realize how much "what if" thinking had proliferated.

And then, there was the real question:  "Was I really walking my talk?"   Did I trust that God, Love was the only power, the only animating Principle, the only Cause in, my life.  

I had to make a change...not, so much, in my human circumstances, but in the way that I thought about God's role in governing the most intimate, and overarching, details of my life.

Taking my hands off the wheel, and letting Love direct my path was terrifying...and liberating.  Once I started to get the hang of living in freefall...the practice of "not knowing," I wasn't as afraid of making a mistake, as I was  of being perceived as having made a mistake.  But that's another story. 

I've got a long way to go...but I think I am loosening my ridiculously impotent grasp on the reins of my life...more each day.   Not that God needs me to let go.  He already has all the power and control whether I comply with the "hands off" rule, or not.  It's just that my ride will be much more fun, and I'll actually enjoy the view, if I do.

I'll leave you with the lyrics to this song.  For me, it is a song that speaks to how profoundly the in-breaking power of grace, can transform your life.  And when it does, you discover the peace of leaving behind the shattered, outgrown shell of who you were...for who you are. 

"It's time for healing time to move on.
It's time to fix what's been broken too long.
Time make right what has been wrong.
It's time to find my way to where I belong.
There's a wave that's crashing over me,
all I can do is surrender.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos, but somehow there's peace.
It's hard to surrender to what I can't see.
But I'm giving in to something heavenly.

Time for a milestone.
Time to begin again.
Revaluate who I really am.
Am I doing everything to follow your will,
or just climbing aimlessly over these hills?
So show me what it is you want from me.
I give everything, I surrender,
To whatever you're doing...

Time to face up.
Clean this old house.
Time to breathe in, and let everything out
that I've wanted to say for so many years.
Time to release all my held back tears.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but I believe,
You're up to something bigger than me.
Larger than life, something heavenly.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos, but now I can see.
This is something bigger than me.
Larger than life, something heavenly.
Something heavenly.

It's time to face up.
Clean this old house.
Time to breathe in,
and let everything out."

I hope your weekend is filled with lovely moments of being breathed...by Spirit. May you emerge from whatever would entomb your peace...heaven-filled. 

with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"...the root of the root of your own soul..."

"Poems reach up like spindrift
and the edge of driftwood
along the beach,
wanting...
They derive from a slow and
powerful root
that we can't see..."
- Rumi

A friend called the other day.  He asked, "My God Kate, where the hell are you these days?  I read your blog, I see the quotes you put on Facebook, and there is a part of me that thinks you've gone mad.  And then there is another part of me that thinks I am seeing you...the real you...for the first time.  It's damned disorienting!"

I nodded, from the other end of the line, in complete surrender, and with utter resignation.  "I know the feeling..." I said with a soft smile of sympathy as I shook my head almost imperceptibly.  "I come face-to-face (and heart-to-heart) with this strange, and oh-so-curiously disarming version of my 'self,' every day," I thought, "in the mirror of my own soul."

These days, I am living in a space of divine paradox.  I have never felt more grounded...and yet, un-tethered.  I have never felt more at peace...and less worried about chaos.  I have never wanted less...and had more. I have never felt more intrigued by the questions...and less interested in finding answers.  I have never felt more content with aloneness...and a better friend.  I have never felt more dead to want...and more alive with purpose.  I have never been more fully empty...and more filled with promise.  And all of this...all at once.

But, I've also never felt more clearly the healing, transformative, redemtive wholeness of spiritual consciousness. This, for me, is the space of understanding where, as Mary Baker Eddy says, "loss..." really, "...IS gain," [emphasis added]. Not, "loss is only temporary, and only seen as loss, until we get gain, again..." Nope, right here and now, right in front of my eyes, "loss IS gain."

Navigating the landscape of this paradoxical inner labyrinth always seems to take on new dimension in the middle of the night. In this quiet space, up becomes blue, light becomes yesterday, and the number nine smells like lavender. All things are spiritual, and I can walk through the flashing images of this mental flipbook, and beyond, into the contiguous space of Consciousness...where the paper is changeless, and the view is spiritual.

I have been finding companionship...during the wee small hours between midnight and dawn...in the poetry of Rumi, Hafiz, Emerson, Blake, Eddy, King David, Browning, Dane, Henley...and on...and on.  Poetry is my native tongue.  It makes sense to me, then, that this language of my own spiritual infancy, would be the most familiar...a syntax, a rhythm that rings most true...when I am seeking the voice of a friend along the way.

Last night it was my 13th century Sufi cousin, Rumi (music in video by Yanni),who sang to me in the darkness:

"For ages you have come and gone
courting this delusion.
For ages you have run from the pain
and forfeited the ecstasy.
So come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

Although you appear in earthly form
Your essence is pure Consciousness.
You are the fearless guardian
of Divine Light.
So come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

When you lose all sense of self
the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish.
Lose yourself completely,
Return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

You descended from the pure Word of God,
but you turned your sight
to the empty show of this world.
Alas, how can you be satisfied with so little?
So come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

Why are you so enchanted by this world
when a mine of gold lies within you?
Open your eyes and come ---
Return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

You were born from the rays of God's Majesty
when the stars were in their perfect place.
How long will you suffer from the blows
of a nonexistent hand?
So come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

You are a ruby encased in granite.
How long will you deceive Us with this outer show?
O friend, We can see the truth in your eyes!
So come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

After one moment with that glorious Friend
you became loving, radiant, and ecstatic.
Your eyes were sweet and full of fire.
Come, return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

The King of the Tavern
has handed you an eternal cup,
And God in all His glory is pouring the wine.
So come! Drink!
Return to the root of the root
of your own soul.

Soul of all souls, Life of all life - you are That.
Seen and unseen, moving and unmoving - you are That.
The road that leads to the City is endless;
Go without head and feet
and you'll already be there.
What else could you be? - you are That."

- Rumi

For today, this helps me understand Mary Baker Eddy's statement that:

"...conscious worth satisfies the hungry heart,
and nothing else can."

I quietly offer this....with Love,


Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit: Nathaiel Wilder 2010]

Do butterflies cry...

"Emerge gently from matter into Spirit."
- Mary Baker Eddy

The poem below, though written over a year ago still brings me to my knees in self-surrender...that drive across the Kansas prairie was just one segment in a spiritual journey so cloaked in darkness and isolation that I sometimes wondered if I would emerge in a form recognizable as me...even to me.  The transformation continues...I am starting to get used to the butterfly me.....

Chrysalis Surrender

Is this how it felt when
the earth shook
and the waters parted
and a man
          born blind
came seeing....

darkness

dissolution

shattering

uncertainty

release

surrender

i am not ready
     i cried out
alone and frightened
     car radio
playing one
     old Journey
          love song
after another
     as I drove through tears
          and rain
               and the sweet ache
                    of it all

          the darkness rushes
               past the window
                    as I fly through
               the silence
                    of a Kansas prairie
               the color of ravens
                         surrounding
                              my cocoon of
                         steel and song

          will I emerge from this chrysalis...
               this casing.... like a
                    butterfly
               transformed by
          a midnight journey through dark
               cornfields and sunflowers


take me in Your arms
wrap me in
Your promise
Father
hold me close to You and breathe
Your message of grace
into my heart...

i serve You
i love You
i long for You in my life

if You are at the core
of this
shattering
let me
yield to it
and
have the patience to
let You
and only You
put me back together
in Your way
according to
Your plan
full of
You

only You
can
eclose me from
this tight
swaddling
of
darkness and
despair, uncertainty
and doubt
into....

what...
I do
not yet
know


can prayer
really
look
like
a tear...
wept

do butterflies
cry






Kate