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Daily Dose (Feb 4 – 7)

TUESDAY FEB 4 —

We are empowered to repair and heal the world where it touches us, the small world—the people—close by, the daily, those ordinary resting places for our heart.

“Love is the only way to rescue humanity from all ills.” Tolstoy wrote at the end of his life in his forgotten correspondence with Gandhi about human nature and why we hurt each other, as the global tensions that would soon erupt into World War I were building.
How? I have an idea. Back to our small world: Let’s start one meal at a time.
“For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick, and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Gospel of Matthew)

Every small (gentle, intentional, kind) gesture, effort, touch means the world.
It honors a world where we say to one another, “I see you.”
“Did I offer peace today?
Did I bring a smile to someone’s face?
Did I say words of healing?
Did I let go of my anger and resentment?
Did I forgive?
Did I love?
These are the real questions. I must trust that the little bit of love that I sow now will bear many fruits, here in this world and the life to come.”
Thank you, Henri Nouwen.
And lest we forget, this is not an assignment (or project to ace). There is a light inside of every one of us. And for remembrance and encouragement, this story from Sue Monk Kidd. She writes the story about her daughter, coming home from school in early December, telling her mother she got one of the great parts in the Nativity Play.
“What part did you get?”
“I’m the Star of Bethlehem!” the daughter says proudly.
“Well, what will you do?” Sue asks.
“I just stand there and shine.”
The little girl gets it. 

I write this in an airport waiting for a flight. On my way to Arizona. This morning we had almost 2 inches of snow in Port Ludlow, a big deal. I love writing that sentence because I know our readers from the Midwest and Canada can’t stop smiling. Or laughing.

WEDNESDAY FEB 5 —

We are empowered to repair and heal the world where it touches us, the small world—the people—close by, the daily, those ordinary resting places for our heart.
And more than ever, I am glad we are on this journey together. Walking one another home.

“Piglet?” said Pooh.
“Yes?” said Piglet.
“I’m scared,” said Pooh.
For a moment, there was silence.
“Would you like to talk about it?” asked Piglet, when Pooh didn’t appear to be saying anything further.
“I’m just so scared,” blurted out Pooh.
“So anxious. Because I don’t feel like things are getting any better. If anything, I feel like they might be getting worse. People are angry, because they’re so scared, and they’re turning on one another, and there seems to be no clear plan out of here, and I worry about my friends and the people I love, and I wish SO much that I could give them all a hug, and oh, Piglet! I am so scared, and I cannot tell you how much I wish it wasn’t so.”
Piglet was thoughtful, as he looked out at the blue of the skies, peeping between the branches of the trees in the Hundred Acre Wood, and listened to his friend.
“I’m here,” he said, simply. “I hear you, Pooh. And I’m here.”
For a moment, Pooh was perplexed.
“But… aren’t you going to tell me not to be so silly? That I should stop getting myself into a state and pull myself together? That it’s hard for everyone right now?”
“No,” said Piglet, quite decisively. “No, I am very much not going to do any of those things.”
“But – ” said Pooh.
“I can’t change the world right now,” continued Piglet. “And I am not going to patronize you with platitudes about how everything will be okay, because I don’t know that.
“What I can do, though, Pooh, is that I can make sure that you know that I am here. And that I will always be here, to listen; and to support you; and for you to know that you are heard.
“I can’t make those Anxious Feelings go away, not really.
“But I can promise you that, all the time I have breath left in my body… you won’t ever need to feel those Anxious Feelings alone.”
And it was a strange thing, because even as Piglet said that, Pooh could feel some of those Anxious Feelings start to loosen their grip on him and could feel one or two of them start to slither away into the forest, cowed by his friend, who sat there stolidly next to him.
Pooh thought he had never been more grateful to have Piglet in his life.
(Author unknown, but inspired by Winnie-the-Pooh, a 1926 children’s book by A. A. Milne.)

I can tell you one of my new daily questions for myself (and for people in conversation): Are you able to make time to “go to” a place that heals you? And are you able to make time to “go to” a place that inspires you?
Onward together…

THURSDAY FEB 6 —

We are empowered to repair and heal the world where it touches us, the small world—the people—close by, the daily, those ordinary resting places for our heart.

I spent a part of today in Tohono Chul Botanical Gardens, in Tucson, AZ. It was just what the doctor ordered. You see, it is the healing gift of the garden (yes, the fundamental gift of nature): there is only one fitting and encouraged pace… go slowly.
Savor the gift of paying attention.
Let your soul catch up with your body.
Let the sacrament of the present moment replenish you.
Parker Palmer’s affirmation came to mind. “Self-care is never a selfish act—it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give the care it requires, we do it not only for ourselves, but for the many others whose lives we touch.”
Yes. And Amen.
And self-care is all the more fitting these days, as we do need one another—self-sacrifice, altruism, or kindness—more deeply than ever. Embracing the reminder that we are indeed on this journey together.
And here’s the deal: We give from a cup that is full. We easily forget that having a full cup—making our physical, spiritual, and emotional needs a priority—is not selfish at all, but the summons of self-care (care of our own needs and well-being), enabling us to be fully present, to be supportive, to spill compassion to the people around us.
So. Is our cup being filled?

I was grateful to Maria Shriver for this encouragement, “Every morning when I wake up, I let my mind wander. It’s my sacred time. No electronics. No noise. Just total stillness. As many of you already know, during this sacred time, I pray, meditate, and sit quietly with my mind and heart. I allow whatever comes up to flow out. In those early hours, I feel calm.
Because the kind of world we envision won’t just become kind, empathetic, or compassionate on its own. It will take each of us to bend, to compromise, and to elevate the values we hold dear. That’s what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about how blessed I am to be alive, to hold a grandchild in my arms. How blessed I am to have the chance to work toward creating a better world. I’m thinking about how we get there—fast, but in a slow, meaningful way.”

FRIDAY JAN 7 —

We are empowered to repair and heal the world where it touches us, the small world—the people—close by, the daily, those ordinary resting places for our heart.
I want to internalize Rumi’s invitation, “Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”
And let us remember, this is not a project or duty, but an affirmation of the healing power of the light that shines inside.

And this I know to be true: To encourage (and uplift) the light, stories keep my hope alive.
When I concentrate on the light being quenched, I am easily dispirited.
And when I see any swell of smallness or meanness or cruelty, I forget that I get to say how the story ends.
I loved rereading Wendy Holden’, Born Survivors this past week, (the story of three women who gave birth in concentration camps).
More profoundly, it is about the power of ordinary grace in a very dark world—yes, being a lamp, a lifeboat and a ladder.
Toward the end of the war the Germans were almost depleted of aeroplanes and they chose to manufacture aeroplane parts in newly designated munitions factories, including one in Freiberg, SW of Dresden. The laborers? The healthiest women remaining in the concentration camps. Women who had already survived brutality, hunger, thirst, cold and degradation. So, trains overcrowded with women left Auschwitz for Freiberg.
One day, Klara developed a painful tooth infection at first, nobody cared but a few days later one half of my face got so swollen and hard that I couldn’t see. Our Lager-kommandant took me to a dentist in town. I had to march ahead of him, he had a rifle with bayonet; people looking at us thought that he’d just captured the biggest spy in the world.
The dentist was told that as Klara was a prisoner, he was only to do necessary work and not waste any anesthetic on her.
The SS officer wanted to watch but the dentist shooed him out, saying there wasn’t enough room for him to work. “I walked in, it was warm, clean and he was polite,” said Klara. “Tears came to my eyes and, when he asked me if it hurts that much, I truthfully said, No, the tears are because it has been a long time since I was treated as a human being.”
Yes. And Amen.
We get to say how the story ends.
And this prowess faculty (yes, gift) is linked to the affirmation that no one of us can make it alone.
So. When life is on tilt, where do our marching orders come from?
Start here: Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
Fear says, “I’ll make you safe.”
But love says, “You are safe.”

My neighbors in Port Ludlow, WA are telling me how many inches of snow is on the ground. And I’m hesitant to tell them the temperature here in Tucson, AZ.

Prayer for our week…
Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
Saint Francis of Assisi

Photo… Some days, Mount Rainier makes you stop, and say Loook… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to [email protected]


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