Together we can do so much
A mother begins her weekend breakfast routine, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. Omelets on the family menu this morning. Before she knows it, her two-year-old daughter has climbed a chair and is now sitting on the kitchen counter.
“Momma, can I help?”
“Of course honey.”
The little girl removes an egg from the carton, and does her best imitation of momma, cracking eggs into the bowl. The first egg breaks on the rim, half staying in the bowl, the other half of the egg, on the counter, and now sliding down the front of the cupboards. Undeterred, and delighted to be cooking breakfast with her mother—“Look mama, I’m cooking,” she squeals—she smashes another egg against the bowl’s rim, and then another.
After the fourth egg, her mother barks in exasperation, “Noooo honey, this is not a good idea. Not right now!”
I’m smiling, in part because I can feel the mother’s exasperation, and more so, because I’m not the one in the kitchen. (There are moments in parenting, when regardless of the experts, there are, quite literally, no words.)
But here’s the deal: Chances are good that any helpful two-year old will break some eggs. At some juncture in my life, I will need to choose.
Do I want a tidy kitchen, or a life-giving relationship with people significant in my life (even the ones that include or even create the mess)?
And chances are good that the script I had in mind, will be mercifully and humanely altered.
But it’s not just a kitchen is it? Or parenting skills.
It’s about owning up to the script I carry, expectations or assumptions about what makes life real. Somehow, we’ve swallowed the notion that real life happens after there is tidiness, or after the cleanup, or after the enlightenment, or after the script is edited. And when I live by that script, it chips away at my reserve of hope.
I began my week in a familiar quandary, unsure what to write about.
So. Let’s begin here. It wouldn’t hurt to honor and celebrate Random Acts of Kindness. Back to the kitchen story; like the exasperated parent, I gave myself grief for the myopia, instead of seeing the invitation to embrace the power of caring and kindness in a world that needs it.
Here’s my question for us this week. What do we do with life’s script edits (whether personal or national)?
It is true (and not surprising) that chaos (messes, disarray) unnerves some people more than others. (My OCD kicks in. Some of you can relate, those like me who are just plain wonderfully wired funny.)
Our need for tidiness as a condition of well-being comes in many forms:
–if there are questions, we want answers
–if there are struggles, we make resolutions
–if we experience unsightly emotions, we apologize (“I’m sorry,” we will tell others, wiping away the tears.)
–if there are impediments, we want no loose ends
–if there is a blunder or muddle, we are given to a compulsion to explain. Or blame. Sometimes even in a ballistic way.
This is important: Crises can undo us, that is true, but if we attach a crisis to something we can attack (for example, “the little girl broke the eggs on purpose”), we live defensive and reactive.
But what if life is bigger than avoiding broken eggs? Or even tidying up?
What if caring and kindness draw from a different reservoir?
I frequently talk about Sankofa (from the Akan language of Ghana), associated with the proverb, “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi,” which translates “It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.”
Before advice or “should”, Sankofa is an intentional pause to renew ourselves to the values we cherish. To reclaim our voice.
Think of this: broken eggs can be an invitation to honor the truth that “Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much.” (Helen Keller)
And here’s the good news; These values are not arbitrary. They are reciprocal. In other words, when we honor them, they in turn fuel us. “The more alert we become to the blessing that flows into us through everything we touch, the more our own touch will bring blessing,” Br. David Steindl-Rast reminds us.
This is the gift; when we see broken eggs, we can say, “It’s time for a blessing.”
So. Let’s start with what we know.
One, Life is about presence (even with broken eggs).
We have become skilled at (and consumed by) emotional multi-tasking. It’s not just the tidy part that motivates us. We want the assurance that it brings: You know—now that things are in order—I can enjoy life more.
Let us consider this: while we are focusing our energy on the perfect picture (or omelet or relationship or child or church or faith or life script), our mind is already into the future, and because of that, we cannot be Here. Now. Present. This sacred moment. Yes, sacred even in the uncertainty and the pain. And when we can see the gift of the child beyond the mess, we will respond from a place of generosity and hopefulness.
And two, we all have the capacity to care. Let us raise a glass and tell stories in grateful awe, for ordinary people who in ordinary ways, make our world kinder, more caring, and more compassionate, one heart and one life at a time.
I’ve just finished a good week with a great group gathered at Villa Maria del Mar in Santa Cruz, CA. We talked about the Gift of Enough. And the permission and freedom and healing power to be present. To be here now.
Quote for the week…
“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” Henri Nouwen
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Good morning Terry, Red sails at sunset last night. A beautiful way to accept the gift of the day from God. Thank you for your inspiring words.” Pat Ensing (Wisconsin)… Thank you Pat… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–Dear Terry – your quote “Rebuilding is fueled by compassion and mercy. And the undeniable reality that compassion and mercy (although often buried) are alive and well in every one of us” hit home today. I saw the movie “Sound of Hope” by Angel Studios yesterday. Don’t miss it. The people in this movie (true story) had such hope and truly believed in the grace of God to take on the responsibility of caring for these children… and they never gave up! Ann
–Dear Terry, I love the Hold On prayer! I’ve sent it to all my “soul friends”. Another addition to songs which nourish me is “I Believe All People Are Good” by Luke Bryan. Sending Love, Light, and Hope. Cammie
–Enjoy beautiful Santa Cruz! Was a fav fishing spot for me in the 70’s when I lived in San Jose. Sandcastles was a great metaphor for the mess we’re in politically and spiritually. Vicki
–Beautiful story and very inspiring! Though I don’t connect often, know I really appreciate your insights and words of wisdom! God bless! Aileen
POEMS AND PRAYERS
Now is the time to free the heart,
Let all intentions and worries stop,
Free the joy inside the self,
Awaken to the wonder of your life.
Open your eyes and see the friends
Whose hearts recognize your face as kin,
Those whose kindness watchful and near,
Encourages you to live everything here.
See the gifts the years have given,
Things your effort could never earn,
The health to enjoy who you want to be
And the mind to mirror mystery.
John O’Donohue
O Great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and through us.
May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all beings.
Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens and the weight of glory.
Listen to our hearts’ longings for the healing of our world. (Please add your own intentions.)
Knowing you are hearing us better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in all the holy names of God, amen.
Richard Rohr