"You are not alone, I am here with you..."

"Someone whispers
in my ear and says,

you are not alone,
I am here with you...”

Jason Chen's cover of Michael Jackson's,  "You Are Not Alone"  is such a gentle version of this song. A song whose melody seems to be how I hear that phrase "you are not alone," whenever it comes to mind.

I have spent most of my lifetime comforting children who feel alone. As a big sister, teacher in a state institution for children who have been made "wards of the state," school administrator, hospital chaplain, and serving at summer camps - assuring children that they are not alone.

Each child navigates that feeling of alone-ness in a different way. Some become dismissive, some distract themselves with constant movement, and others cry as if their every breath is a labor of love.

But here is what I have learned. This is not home-sickness. This is home wellness. These children have such a full and healthy sense of home and family -- even those who have never known a parent's love -- that it fills their being. I have worked with sister children who have never felt deeply settled and still there is a love for the concept of home and family that fills their being. I have taught in a state-run facility with children who had been institutionalized by their families, and still there is a hope of family and a natural inclination towards warmth, affection, and connection.

It is not something that can be taken from them. It is a deep home-wellness that crosses all socio-economic boundaries. From the autistic 4-year old in a state institution, to the privileged child of loving parents at a sleep-over summer camp, this love for home, family, and being parented by love -- is universal. And it never goes away.

This morning, as I was reading the Bible lesson, I was so moved to realize that the Scriptural precedence for addressing this claim of children feeling alone is right there in I Samuel.

Hannah, after years of barrenness is blessed with a son, whom she names Samuel. And even though she loves him with all her heart, she knows that he is destined for service to God and as a boy sends him to live with Eli the priest from whom he would learn how to love and trust the Lord.

This is where the part of the story - that is in our Bible Lesson - begin:


"And the child Samuel ministered unto the Lord before Eli.

And it came to pass at that time, when Eli was laid down in his place, [that] the lamp of God went out in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was, and Samuel was laid down to sleep;

That the Lord called Samuel: and he answered, Here am I. And he ran unto Eli, and said, Here am I; for thou calledst me. And he said, I called not; lie down again.

And he went and lay down. And the Lord called yet again, Samuel. And Samuel arose and went to Eli, and said, Here am I; for thou didst call me. And he answered, I called not, my son; lie down again.

Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, neither was the word of the Lord yet revealed unto him.

And the Lord called Samuel again the third time. And he arose and went to Eli, and said, Here am I; for thou didst call me.

And Eli perceived that the Lord had called the child. Therefore Eli said unto Samuel, Go, lie down: and it shall be, if he call thee, that thou shalt say, Speak, Lord; for thy servant heareth.

So Samuel went and lay down in his place. And the Lord came, and stood, and called as at other times, Samuel, Samuel. Then Samuel answered, Speak; for thy servant heareth."

Today, this story has come alive for me in a new way. Samuel was just a boy. Just a child. He was alone in the dark. The person who was his care-giver -- not his parent -- had put him to bed and he kept getting up and asking if Eli wanted him.

Eli said, no, I didn't call you, go back to bed. Sweet persistent Samuel. He returns again and again to Eli's bedchamber. Until Eli finally realizes that God was speaking directly to Samuel in the dark. Comforting, assuring, inspiring him directly, tenderly -- by name.

My heart burst. Each and every child in the world -- whether at sleep-over camps with well-appointed cabins, or in refugee camps on hostile borders, can hear their name being called, can feel the calm comfort of that loving Voice speaking directly to them -- assuring them that they are not alone. This Voice is the voice of God, divine Love. This voice not only speaks to them of their Father-Mother God's presence, but of their own spiritual maturity and purpose.

Hannah, Samuel's mother -- who had yearned for this little boy with all her being -- must have known this presence herself. She must have known that God would reach out to her son and call him by his name -- just as he had heard her weeping, seen her own tears, and sent her a son. For she was His child too.

I will be holding this story close. It touches me deeply. For all children -- and their parents.

offered with Love,

Cate

"what stays the same..."

"I feel You here,
and You're picking up the pieces;
forever faithful.


Seemed out of my hands,
a bad situation;
but You are able.

And in Your hands
the pain and hurt
look less like scars.
and more like character..." 

In this season of "all things new," I can't help but start with what is constant, enduring and changeless when thinking about my purpose moving forward. Regular readers might make the connection between this early January post, and a number of others "new years" pieces that I have written over the past 12 years of posting to this blog.

Sara Groves' "Less Like Scars" is a song that I keep coming back to -- especially when I am trying to realign with my sense of purpose.

And every year, the pain and hurt - distant or recent - do seem less like scars and more like character, clarity, compassion.

Each January, as I shift all my notes, reminders, and regular appointments from the previous year's calendar to a brandy, new, fresh one, I review the marginal ponderings that fill the blank space on every page. This annual review always includes my "purpose statement." I ask myself, "How is it the same, has it evolved, do I need to re-work the language?"

I can honestly say, that even though the details of "how" I can more clearly live that purpose has evolved, my core purpose itself has stayed the same. Whether it is why I post to this blog, write little miniature poems on FB, teach Sunday School, or am engaged in the healing practice of Christian Science -- that core purpose defines my work and keeps me aligned throughout the day, the night - and the year.

I clearly remember discovering the clarity of that purpose some years ago, and the feeling of "yes, this is why I have lived the life I have lived, and why do what I do." It is why I know that: "I belong here," [link to post] I am ready, and I am not alone."

I love this promise from Mary Baker Eddy*:

"You are not alone.
Love is with you
watching tenderly over you
by day and night;

and this Love
will not leave you
but will sustain you
and remember all thy tears,
and will answer thy prayers." 

My childhood was fraught with feeling alone. I thought that no one had ever been as alone as I was. I couldn't imagine that another human being had experienced the feelings of rejection, sadness, abandonment, sorrow, darkness - that I was drowning in.

And then one day, when I was almost 11 - and very ill, I was introduced to this paragraph from Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures which includes the statement I have bolded for emphasis:

"The physical healing of Christian Science
results now, as in Jesus’ time,
from the operation of divine Principle,
before which sin and disease lose
their reality in human consciousness and
disappear as naturally and as necessarily
as darkness gives place to light
and sin to reformation.

Now, as then, these mighty works are not
supernatural, but supremely natural. They are
the sign of Immanuel, or “God with us,” 
— a divine influence ever present in
human consciousness and repeating itself,
coming now as was promised aforetime,
To preach deliverance to the captives [of sense],
And recovering of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty them that are bruised." 

I clung to that promise. I sought out this "God with us," at all times -- especially in the dark when I felt most alone. 

Knowing that, in fact, I was not alone -- changed everything. I was able to hold on through the dark times. I was able to look forward as we drove away from yet another house, neighborhood, friendship. I was able to draw closer to the God that was with me when every hope, dream, and plan dissolved after my dad passed on suddenly leaving me with my mom and seven younger siblings to support.

So, how do those statements, and my own experiences, define my over-arching purpose? Well, I absolutely know - with out a shadow of doubt - that I am here to behold [which Webster defines as "to see, and call attention to"] the presence of God's presence in the world. To remind us that we are not alone, that God, good is always with us. That we are never separated from Love - because there is always love in our hearts -- whether it is love we feel for something or someone, or the love that we appreciate and desire. 

I am here to never let us forget that nothing can deprive us of living that love. It is, to my sense, the great rebellion.

I am here to write, to say, to prove, to bear witness to, to remember that we are not alone. We are never alone.

And even in our darkest nights, in our moments of deep regret, in our want and woe -- we are not alone.  God, divine Love, is with us -- always. Love is there -- constantly gifting us with grace - mercy, understanding, joy, humility, patience...

In defining "the Mission of Christian Science" on page 107 of Science and Health, Mary Baker Eddy states:

"This apodictical Principle
points to the revelation of
Immanuel, "God with us," --
the sovereign ever-presence..." 

I am forever aligned with this mission of Christian Science. It is at the core of everything that I think, do, write, say, live, pray.

Reviewing my notes from last year's calendar, and listening  for Love to refresh my heart's sense of mission and purpose - I hear it clearly, "you are not alone." And I know, I am where I need to be, doing what I need to do -- today.

All the pain and hurt from the last year does seem less like scars, and more like character, clarity of purpose, deepened compassion, renewed fervency, and an awakened ardency of love for my God -- and all who might be feeling alone.

That is my purpose and it has not changed. I live to see and call attention to the presence of God in our lives -- individually and collectively. To pull focus away from all that would suggest that God is absent, any suggestion that we have been left alone to fend for ourselves and face the darkness. By focusing on God's presence, we draw attention back to the good that is right in front of us -- the love in our hearts, the hopes that will not die, the beauty found in the ordinary, the wisdom in simplicity.

Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances -- God is there, because you are there, and you are filled with dreams of beauty, hope for harmony, a desire for healing, your love for whatever God has put in your heart - to love. You are not alone.

offered with Love,

Kate

This quote is in a letter from Mary Baker Eddy to Caroline W. Frame, November 5, 1903 -- and is the collection of The Mary Baker Eddy Library.