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A Place for Sanctuary. Daily Dose. (Sept 6 – 9)

Tuesday —

This is a good week to allow our souls to catch up. To be gentle with ourselves. To find renewal.
I confessed that self-care isn’t my strong suit, making it that much more important to appreciate that care of any kind—compassion, generosity, forgiveness, reconciliation, peacemaking, service, ministry, teaching, giving, healing—begins with and is nourished by self-care. (Whether we’re good at it or not… self-care isn’t a contest.)

So, sitting in the garden always helps. Because the Shasta Daisy or Black-Eyed Susan could care less about my pedigree or achievement check list, which in turn serves as the perfect metaphor for God’s grace—an altogether difficult lesson to swallow in a world where all of our encounters seem like contests, where only the winner is granted the right to move on.
The garden becomes my portal for a change of paradigm (the way we choose to see—or choose—what is important and necessary).

This paradigm shift is at the heart of my favorite story about stuff and the inability to see renewal.
An American traveler planned a long safari to Africa. He was a compulsive man, loaded down with maps, timetables, agendas and “stuff”. Laborers had been engaged from a local tribe to carry the cumbersome load of supplies, luggage and “essential stuff.”
On the first morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far.
On the second morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far.
On the third morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far. And the American seemed pleased.
On the fourth morning, the jungle tribesmen refused to move. They simply sat by a tree. The American became incensed. “This is a waste of valuable time. Can someone tell me what is going on here?”
The translator answered, “They are waiting for their souls to catch up with their bodies.”

I hope you savored a few moments of soul catch up calm and replenishment today.
This morning, very early out on the golf course, I am alone, surrounded by (comforted by) towering firs and cedars. The sky—hope blue—is splashed with breaths of clouds. And my favorite part, there is no sound, save for what I guess to be a birds small choir practice. No leaf blowers or weed whackers or lawn mowers. One of the blessed gifts of Labor Day.
One Sabbath Moment reader assured me they knew I was completely in unwind mode when I wrote Monday’s SM because of the typos I missed. That made me smile big. Now I know there’s a good reason for typos.

Wednesday —

Here’s our Prayer Blessing…
Three generations back
my family had only
to light a candle
and the world parted.
Today, Friday afternoon,
I disconnect clocks and phones.
Then night fills my house
with passages,
I begin saving
my life.
Marcia Falk

Photo… “Good morning Terry: I’m sorry to read that you have lost a friend.  Life is cruel and when someone is taken so quickly and suddenly is a shock to the heart. I pray your loving memories help you through the most difficult days. I’m sending a few pictures from what I call healing time. My husband and I were up before dawn on this day to catch the sunrise. If you want to hear God talking to you, you will hear him whispering to you during a sunrise. In his own words, he’s saying ‘I’m here.’  Take care.” Johanne Fraser (White Rock, BC, Canada

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