Seeing the Sacred in the Everyday

John "No Man is an Island" Donne

Seeing the sacred in the everyday calls for a new way of seeing for some of us.

A cursory glance will not suffice. Beating a path through one's to-do list in record time leaves little room for noticing our surroundings. When we live rushed, frantic lives, we miss too much.

In 1622, John Donne reflected on the miraculous in the everyday. Donne said that if the mundane occurrences all around us were rare, we'd be astonished.

If it were unique, we'd behold it with wonder! Think about that possibility.

The sky darkens with rolling clouds, thunder cracks the air, rain arrives, driving downward from the sky, and passes. A rainbow appears in the East. We pause a moment to catch a glimpse of it, then go about our business. We've seen rainbows before. If this sequence were done but once -- or even every 100 years -- we would stare in awe and wonder. We would try desperately to capture it and record it for others for they would otherwise find it incredulous.

But, it's just another spring rain. And so we move on without noticing.

How many times do we do this? The sun rises and sets each day. Glorious colors fill the sky, and we fail to lift our eyes. It's just another day.

Some will protest that our lives would grind to a halt if we beheld the wonder in the natural world, the miraculous in the everyday. I think not. Rather, I believe our lives would be greatly enhanced by a new awareness of all that we fail to notice when we move through life on autopilot. Our senses would be heightened and our hearts attuned to subtleties only perceived by those who choose to look carefully.

It takes no more time to live with an eye for wonder, but it does take desire. And living into our heart's desire infuses our time with intensity and meaning. I thought about the simple acts of nature that rolled into today's welcome summer rain, and gave thanks.

John Donne, 1572-1631, Jacobean metaphysical writer of songs, poems, sermons and translations.

Father's Day

I am profoundly grateful for a loving father in this life. I know what it is to love and be loved by one who takes seriously the high calling of fatherhood.

"Daddy" is one of the most beautiful words spoken. I love my daddy!

Our culture is sorely lacking in rising to and respecting the role of fathering. Even a brief survey of the greeting card selection displayed for Father's Day reveals the telling truth of what sells in America: scratch and sniff cards abound with jokes of hogging the remote and yukking it up with bathroom humor. We appear to be a people uncomfortable with honoring and being affirmed by fathers.

Sadly, too many never know what it is to be loved and supported by our earthly fathers. I can understand how this imagery is a barrier -- even a huge obstacle -- to women and men alike in relating to God as Father. None of us can live into our roles and relationships without error. Ours is not a perfect world. Yet, Jesus offers a model of redemption for us, showing One who is mindful of us. The Abba, Daddy always awaits and yearns to be present to us. Even those who have known no father have a loving heavenly father who redeems the wasted years the locusts have eaten and who is able to restore unto us a sense of acceptance and love that many yearn for all their lives.

Our Heavenly Father is neither a distant judge nor an aloof cosmic magician, but, in the Great Mystery, a very present help in time of trouble. A companion today through the Spirit. God's very name is I AM.

Loving us NOW.
Loving us as we are.
And loving us too much to leave us unsatisfied and unfulfilled when there are dreams to awaken and lives to be lived with the power and conviction God offers to each of us.

May we learn to forgive imperfect fathers who are absent or otherwise unavailable to live into the opportunity that is or was theirs. It was their loss, but it need not be our bondage.

May we learn to walk gracefully into a future equipped with the knowledge that we are cherished and beloved by One Who loves with a perfect love.

O, wondrous love is this, oh my soul!

Remembering

"The value of things is not the time they last, but the intensity with which they occur. That's why there are unforgettable moments and unique people."

~ Fernando Pessoa, beloved Portuguese poet and translator, and one of the most significant literary figures of the 20th century, (1888-1935) whose birthday was celebrated yesterday.


Follower Teresa from Lisbon, Portugal introduced his quote to me in her writings, I Got the Sun in the Morning . Thank you, Teresa.

There are moments that take our breath away. They do not have to last long to be enduring in memory -- a beautiful truth! Pay attention to the 'great moments' in this life and delight in them long after they are past.

Which reminds me of another great writer who lived at the same time -- this one from Mississippi:

"The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past."

William Faulkner, US novelist (1897-1962).

Seeing the Big Picture

Snapshots are helpful for remembering.

We are enjoying a family wedding weekend and are surrounded by the presence of friends and siblings and extended family who have come from far away to celebrate tonight's marriage of Mary and Jeffrey. My sister created lovely flowers from kumquats, lemons, kiwi and citrus flowers in the morning as the weekend began. I wished for a way to capture last night's dinner under ancient cedars and oaks at Quiet Shades plantation on the skirt of the Mississippi Delta, but the camera could not take it in. I could never see the big picture in my camera. The view finder was severely limited by what was immediately in front of it.

So as we looked upon the massive cedars standing as sentries towering upward into the evening sky, the camera's eye revealed only a limited tree trunk view. As I gazed upon the broad porch of the old home with guests spilling onto the lawn which was spread lavishly with round tables bearing elegantly draping skirts topped with white lilies beneath the shade of a monolithic oak, music and laughter filled the spaces between the fireflies and the candlelight at sunset. Yes, it was quite a picture. I felt transported into a movie scene. I yearned to capture the images to remember and share, but it would not be constrained into the small format of my trusty camera. No matter how I adjusted the focus or tried to expand the wide angle view, I could not take in a picture big enough.

Some things in life are too big to fit into a small box.

Have you had that experience also? We discover certain scenes -- relationships and emotions, as well -- that are too large to be stuffed into a box. They defy containment.

When we live life in its fullness and experience God as reality with God's Spirit present with us, we learn that our faith will not be reduced to a sentimental keepsake like a lock of hair or worn love letter from the distant past. This is no 'snapshot faith' for the scrapbook, but a vibrant, living relationship with One Who calls to us I AM.

The God of the universe is bigger than our view finder and larger than our limited experiences will allow us to capture. We can, however, know the power of God's Presence in the present and trust in God's provision for all the tomorrows that lie beyond our field of vision. May we find contentment even when we cannot see the whole picture in this life.

" ...A mind focused on the Spirit will find full life and complete peace. " Romans 8:6a The Voice

A Parent's Prayer at the Beginning of Summer

Sometimes things don't line up the way we want them.

We begin to worry.
Worry can be infectious.

It taints our conversations and burdens our relationships needlessly. If we could learn to transform our worries into prayer...our concerns into petitions...maybe we would even change our hand-wringing into open-palmed acceptance and face our lives with courage and grace in the place of worry.

Parents worry about many things, but especially the life of each child. This prayer was by written by the Very Reverend Joe Robinson when Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral in Jackson, Mississippi. It was sent to me by a dear friend when our boys were high school graduates together. It may be a timely reminder for others as school days come to an end and summer begins.

Lord give us the grace to grieve in private-
to keep our children free from our anxiety,
to worry only about the things we actually know-
to free them from our obsessions,
to give advice only when asked, or when they are in danger-
to free them for your own shaping,
to expect that they will fail and fall and scrape
and get up to do it all again-
so that we will not interrupt their process,
to delight in the moments when they win and
to refrain from loving them the better for it.

For you love us when we win and when we fail-
and you expect us to do both.
You shield us from knowing your divine mind
so that we might have one of our own.
You hide your worry and your grief from us,
so that we might live in the world freely as your people.
You never ask that we do anything beyond our best,
And always add enough of grace to make our best sufficient.

Bless us while we are apart from one another,
and fill our lives with things we cannot wait to tell,
when next we meet.
AMEN

Photo courtesy of Rachel Kabukala of www.rachelkabukala.com

Take Note of Simple Joys

Spring rain falls gently on the roof. Songbirds fill the early morning punctuating the just-light sky with new sounds.

An attic fan whirs overhead, drawing cool, almost-mountain air in through the windows as they appear to swell and relax with each fresh breath.

Three of my favorite things in one morning! I'm counting my blessings.

4. Hot coffee in a large mug.

5 and 6. Warming cinnamon chip scones from my sister-in-law, Nancy, who always knows how to provide for her guests in the mostly generous and loving ways.

7. A day off for a change of pace. or Pace.

8. A day with my daughter before her summer job in N.C.

This way of viewing life -- of noticing gratitude in the small things -- doesn't require numerals and lists, but it can help us as we pause and take notice.

Noticing and giving thanks -- that is the key. Else it slips by unremarked, and we move through our days oblivious of the many gifts we have.

Take note today.

And give thanks.

I enjoyed Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts last week. Perhaps you will too. See her thoughts written daily at her beautiful site http://www.aholyexperience.com/.

Still Crazy-Awesome After All These Years

I don't know about the rapture predicted for Saturday, but I can tell you about a rapturously wonderful evening at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville last night.

This venue with its long history of country and gospel greats -- can I get a witness? -- was home to Paul Simon in his spring 2011 sweep of the known world yesterday. If you have listened to American music since the mid-1960s, you've heard his music. If you're temporarily unfamiliar, Google or Youtube ... say... Mother And Child Reunion, Kodachrome, The Sound of Silence, Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes for a sampling.

Hard to list only a few. I've already left out some favorites: Julio. Graceland. You Can Call Me Al. It's a wonder that I can think at all.

The anthology of his work is impressive as a composer, vocalist and guitarist. Triple threat and then some. He shows mastery of rhythm, percussion, syncopation. And the team of musicians playing with him? Spellbinding.

I feel like I've fallen and I can't get up when I begin waxing about this man, Paul. It might also be said that I don't get out much. But you know how we just want to tell the story of something so right before we're all just slip slidin' away? There must be fifty ways to tell an American tune. His music takes us to the Mardi Gras and speaks of peace like a river. He writes of mother and child and father and daughter. Hearts and bones are exposed before we're gone at last. And he keeps on writing. The landscape moves from Puerto Rico to Memphis, from Louisiana zydeco to Brooklyn and even under African skies; the world is his canvas.

Late in the evening, I had a dream fulfilled in Nashville: I got to sing The Boxer right along with him, as the Ryman's audience joined in without embarrassment. Did we look like those old people in the audiences on MTV's fundraising nights? Probably so. But some of these baby boomers also had their college age kids in tow. A University of Michigan sophomore drove with her dad from Indianapolis and sat beside us, loving the show. She got it. There were also many twenty-somethings gathered among friends having a huge time. The enthralled audience rose to its collective feet in thunderous applause and wild whoops and whistles early on, raising the roof on that 1892 wooden pew-lined house and savoring the night with profound appreciation for the the artist known as rhymin' Simon.

He said one of the joys of playing in Nashville was being able to reunite with some music legends whom he then invited onstage to play with him. A good time was had by all, as we say in the country.

Can one be a living legend? I think so. In fact, I've just seen it done.

I'm grateful for my husband's gift from the heart of the tickets for this little slice of heaven. A heart full of music provides a soundtrack for any occasion -- soulful, melancholy ballads, songs of devotion or searching, and spirited, joyful accompaniments for all of life's journeys. Paul Simon's songs are going on six decades now. And he showed no signs of letting up. The man's a true performer: two and a half hour show with no break. Guitar change with each song. No one went away empty as a pocket.

This prolific writer and composer has devoted much of his interest later in life to developing the theme of love and its many manifestations, including the spiritual dimensions -- a pursuit that has many searching for the meaning within his music.

I close with his image in a lesser-known song that corresponds to a train whistle, a beloved sound from my childhood often imitated by my grandfather from his days at the old Illinois Central line:

Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance
Everybody thinks it's true
What is the point of this story?
What information pertains?
The thought that life could be better
Is woven indelibly
Into our hearts
And our brains

I am thankful for the way music lifts our spirits and moves our hearts as we experience myriad messages of love and manifestations of God's loving kindness in this life. We walk a shared journey and must choose for ourselves which spirit voices to heed.

(Baby Boomer Bonus: If you were a “Highlights” reader, you may remember Hidden Pictures. Twenty-five titles or lines from his music are found above.)