Daily Dose (Jan 7 – 10)
TUESDAY JAN 7 —
Our invitation this week: to “become like a child.” The invitation to remember and to reclaim the profound sense of joy, innocence and trust.
Like a child, we are present.
Like a child, we take delight in the sacrament of this moment, welcoming gifts of tiny delight, and kindness, and compassion, and tenderness, and enchantment, and gladness.
Like a child we embrace what we have been told to distrust or is different.
Like a child, we savor the gift of play.
In other words, this we know: Life isn’t a race or a contest or a beauty pageant.
Howard Thurman’s reminder, “There must be always remaining in every life, some place for the singing of angels, some place for that which in itself is breathlessly beautiful.”
This I know from my own experience; when we lose sight of that child, we lose sight of those things that really matter. So. It’s paradigm shift time…
I love Lynne Twist’s reminder, “The problem is not simply that we work too much, the problem is that we are working for the wrong reward… We are paid in the wrong currency. What if we were to expand our definition of wealth to include those things that grow only in time–time to walk in the park, time to take a nap, time to play with children, to read a good book, to dance, to put our hands in the garden, to cook playful meals with friends, to paint, to sing, to meditate, to keep a journal.”
Gabrielle Roth reminds us that in many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask one of four questions.
When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing?
When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
Meaning that at some point my “keeping score” self was inculcated with the notion that it wasn’t enough… to just dance, to sing, to be enchanted, to sit still.
And yes, to hear the singing of angels…
The winter weather is real, and severe in places in the states. Be cautious. And I’m writing this from Houston, Texas, where the windchill this morning was 20 degrees. Let’s just say that I’m glad I packed my long underwear. A sentence you seldom need to write if you are traveling to Houston.
WEDNESDAY JAN 8 —
Our invitation this week: to “become like a child.” The invitation to remember and to reclaim the profound sense of joy, innocence and trust. And the invitation to play. And let us never forget: this invitation is always linked to “we”.
Because no one of us is on this journey alone.
Do you know the word Ubuntu?
A Nguni Bantu term meaning “humanity” often translated as “I am because we are,” and also “humanity towards others”, but is often used in a philosophical sense “the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity.”
As chairman of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Desmond Tutu used descriptive words to speak about Ubuntu intimately binding it within Christian principles of goodness. He describes the person true to Ubuntu as one who is “generous, hospitable, friendly, caring and compassionate.” He says it as a state in which one’s “humanity is caught up and inextricably bound up” in others. Tutu says of Ubuntu “I am human because I belong, I participate, I share.”
So. We embrace the invitation to play—together—while walking one another home.
Ubuntu is a good reminder that being “somebody” (becoming whole and letting our authentic self breathe) is not about winning and losing. There’s something bigger here.
It is remarkable how “keeping score” can so upset our equilibrium. And instead of connection, we worry about comparing ourselves to one another, and we wonder if we will ever be enough. And we wonder if this day, or these relationships, or encounters, or choices, are ever enough.
But here’s the deal: that which sustains us (and sustains wellness) is not something we need to earn or acquire. Because it is in our DNA, and is available to be celebrated and to be shared. So, here’s the good news. Instead of propping myself up, self-absorbed, myopic, self-centered, grandstanding and keeping score, we can give ourselves the permission to slowly unmask, and remove the glittering image we hide behind. And there we are free to embrace ubuntu (“I am human because I belong, I participate, I share”) where we find not only redemption—and sanctuary and hope and mercy and yes, play—but freely offer these gifts to those whose paths we cross.
We can bring this self, to this day. Unafraid. And without apology. No longer diminished by the broken places. As we pause in the enoughness of this moment, Grace meets us there.
A good day today with a group of Lay Chaplains connected with the Community of Hope International, in Houston, Texas.
We are taking home Albert Schweitzer’s reminder, “Sometimes our light goes out but is blown again into flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light.”
THURSDAY JAN 9 —
Our invitation this week: to “become like a child.” The invitation to remember and to reclaim the profound sense of joy, innocence and trust. This invitation allows us the gift of letting go of scorecards, and savoring the permission to be here now.
Gratefully and gladly, the full force of life and the gift of enough, usually envelops me when I’m looking the other way, say for answers or magic or resolve (maybe a reprieve from the disquiet of moving). It is a lot like grace in that way. It enters in, slows the heartbeat, and before you know it, you’re sitting still. Relishing, contemplating, savoring and just being, if only for a moment. These moments re-introduce me to a world that is antithetical to the world that tells me the five things I must do to get past, or get over, or stay on top.
For me, it happens on my morning walk. On these winter days, when, if we are lucky, the sun graces us, now lower in the sky, with shafts (marionettes) of light, messages of hope through the cathedral of trees. Lord have mercy. I walk through the forest slowly, as a prayer.
When I look up, an occasional wispy cloud rides a river through the southern sky like a backdrop which has missed its cue and is hastily escorted across the stage. And the air is touched with the smoke of wood stoves.
Here’s the deal: People who love life, embrace particularity. Particularity means not shying away from the detail. In fact, particularity throws caution to the wind and jumps, whole hog, into the fray of details. It’s about awareness. Noting the specifics. Slowing us down and immersing us in the full weight, the density of the daily and the ordinary. Yes, the ordinary, the hiding place for the holy.
“’Real life,’ as we once knew it, lacks our newfound essential need for sustained titillation,” Neil Postman recently wrote. “Therefore, solitude and the pleasure of a cup of coffee while lounging outside in leisure soaking in the bliss of a garden or a setting in nature becomes an abhorrent abyss of boredom. This sort of pleasure (of ‘real life’) satisfies the soul while ‘toys’ arouse only the outer senses… Like love, we seek pleasure in all the wrong places… the real loss is the negation of my soul.”
And this from Anna Quindlen. “So here is what I wanted to tell you today:
Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you’d care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast? Get a life in which you notice the smell of saltwater pushing itself on a breeze over Seaside Heights, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water gap or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a cheerio with her thumb and first finger.
Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work… Get a life in which you are generous.”
And our hearts are with our friends in southern California as the fires rage, with evacuation mandatory, and loss of life and many homes destroyed.
FRIDAY JAN 10 —
I write this on our National Day of Mourning for President Jimmy Carter.
I carry his words with me, “I have one life and one chance to make it count for something. I’m free to choose what that something is, and the something I’ve chosen is my faith. Now, my faith goes beyond theology and religion and requires considerable work and effort. My faith demands—this is not optional—my faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference.”
I watched the funeral service held in the Washington National Cathedral this morning. Seated at a microphone, Rev. Andrew Young — whom Carter appointed as United Nations ambassador — drew laughs from the crowd when he called Carter “something of a miracle,” noting, “It’s still hard for me to understand how you could get to be president from Plains, Georgia.”
Young, who is Black and was a pastor nearby, said he was “nervous” sometimes driving through the small town.
“Time and again, I saw in him the ability to achieve diversity by the personality and upbringing,” Young said, of Carter. “He went out of his way to embrace those of us who grew up in all kinds of conflict.”
Yes. Character, kindness and decency do matter. Thank you, Jimmy Carter.
“For decades, you could walk into Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia on some Sunday mornings and see hundreds of tourists from around the world crammed into the pews. And standing in front of them, asking with a wink if there were any visitors that morning, would be President Jimmy Carter — preparing to teach Sunday school, just like he had done for most of his adult life…
Others were likely there because of what President Carter accomplished in the longest, and most impactful, post-presidency in American history — monitoring more than 100 elections around the world; helping virtually eliminate Guinea worm disease, an infection that had haunted Africa for centuries; becoming the only former president to earn a Nobel Peace Prize; and building or repairing thousands of homes in more than a dozen countries with his beloved Rosalynn as part of Habitat for Humanity.
But I’m willing to bet that many people in that church on Sunday morning were there, at least in part, because of something more fundamental: President Carter’s decency.
Elected in the shadow of Watergate, Jimmy Carter promised voters that he would always tell the truth. And he did — advocating for the public good, consequences be damned. He believed some things were more important than reelection — things like integrity, respect, and compassion. Because Jimmy Carter believed, as deeply as he believed anything, that we are all created in God’s image.
Whenever I had a chance to spend time with President Carter, it was clear that he didn’t just profess these values. He embodied them. And in doing so, he taught all of us what it means to live a life of grace, dignity, justice, and service. In his Nobel acceptance speech, President Carter said, ‘God gives us the capacity for choice. We can choose to alleviate suffering. We can choose to work together for peace.’ He made that choice again and again over the course of his 100 years, and the world is better for it.
Maranatha Baptist Church will be a little quieter on Sundays, but President Carter will never be far away — buried alongside Rosalynn next to a willow tree down the road, his memory calling all of us to heed our better angels.”
(Thank you, Barack Obama; written just after Jimmy Carter’s death.)
The fires in Southern California continue to burn and ravage. Our hearts go out to the families who have lost lives, and had homes destroyed. And our deep gratitude to all the fire fighters and first responders.
Prayer for our week…
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance,
praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.
St. Therese’s Prayer: St. Therese of Lisieux
Photo… “Terry, thanks for the moments of discovery and gratitude you discovered while ‘looking for your pen’ that frame the new year with hope! This NYC skyline photo is taken while closing out the old year on a night time water taxi, viewing the magnificent, soaring spire of World Trade One, accompanied by my wife and grandson.” Bob Keener… Thank you Bob… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to [email protected]
