What makes my heart sing?

In the beginning, God didn’t make just one or two people; he made a whole bunch of us. “Because” he said, “you can’t really have a lot of fun—taking delight and savoring life—unless there’s a whole bunch of you.”
And he put us in this playground called Eden and said, “Ya’ll have fun.” And at first, we had fun just like he expected. We played all the time. We rolled down the hills, waded in the streams, ran in the meadows, frolicked in the woods, and acted silly. And we laughed, a lot. And gladness, contentment, joy and gratitude filled the air. And our hearts, they did sing…
Then one day this snake came along and told us that we weren’t really having fun, because we weren’t keeping score. Back then, we didn’t know what keeping score was all about. And when he explained it, we still couldn’t see the fun. But he said we should give an apple to the person who was best at playing, and we’d never know who was best, unless we kept score. Now we could all see the fun in that, because we all were very sure that we were “the best” at something. Or at the very least, semi-impressive.
So. It was different after that. Our laughter went away. And we yelled a lot. And we had to make up new scoring rules for most of the games we played. And others, like frolicking, we had to stop playing, because how do you keep score when you frolic?
By the time God found out about our new “fun”, we were spending 45 minutes a day playing, and the rest of the entire day working out the score. God was wroth about that—very, very wroth. He said we couldn’t use his garden anymore because we weren’t having fun. We told him we were having lots of fun. And he shouldn’t have gotten so upset, just because it wasn’t exactly the kind of fun he had in mind.
He wouldn’t listen. He kicked us out, and said we couldn’t come back to the garden until we stopped keeping score. And to rub it in, and get our attention, he told us that one day we were going to die, and our scores wouldn’t matter.
Well, he was wrong. Because my cumulative all-game score is 16,548. And that means a lot to me. And if I can raise it to 20,000 before I die, I’ll know I’ve accomplished something. Even if I can’t, my life has a great deal of meaning because I have been teaching my children to score high, and they’ll be able to reach 20,000 or even 30,000, I know.
Really, it was the life in the garden that didn’t mean anything. I mean, after all, fun is great in its place, but without scoring there’s no real reason for it. God must have a very superficial view of life. So, I guess we were lucky, and should be grateful to that snake.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” (Thank you Howard Thurman)
And speaking of coming alive, there is no doubt that a child’s laugh could simply be one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Or John Cleese’s observation, “The most creative people have this childlike facility to play.”
So, what makes my heart sing?
Let me never lose childlike wonder.

It is no surprise that Jesus talked about becoming like a child.
One day, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” (Gospel of Matthew)
They had been spending the day (or more) arguing and fussing among themselves. You know, who would be the greatest? (You know, keeping score, because, somehow, that matters most.)
They finally take the dispute to Jesus, to settle the matter.
Perhaps they thought (hoped) Jesus would choose one of them (or at least tell them how to become the greatest, with a parable, or a prophetic type of answer).
What they did not ever expect, was Jesus’ response. He said, “unless you become like a child.”
Oh my.
This week, we’ll been talking about this invitation, to “become like a child.” The invitation to remember and to reclaim the profound sense of joy, innocence, trust, taking delight in the sacrament of the present.
Yes, we do forget. Life can harden us.
And Jesus said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” (Matthew 18:3-5 NIV)
“Like a child.” We are present, and in this moment, we welcome the gifts that resonate and grow. Gifts of tiny delight, and kindness, and compassion, and tenderness, and enchantment, and gladness, and even embracing what we have been told to distrust or is different. And yes, laughter. And play.
In other words: Life isn’t a race or a contest or a beauty pageant.

This I know from my own experience; when we lose sight of that child, we lose sight of the things that really matter. And not surprising, it comes with new measurements that influence us, drive us, and weigh us down. Linking our value to keeping score has always been a temptation. But sadly, when we lose sight of that child, we have forgotten who we are, at our core.
You see, when I give way to the “keeping score” voice, I spend my energy wondering (worrying) about what is enough. (Often pushing the panic button at every blemish of “imperfection”.) Do I have (or am I) enough? Is this day, or these relationships, or encounters, or choices, enough? Do I have enough “points” to make life meaningful?
Let’s go back to the beginning: being “somebody” (becoming whole and letting our authentic self breathe) is not about winning and losing. There’s something bigger here. And the gift? To live like a child, we are invited to live (choose, give, receive) From enough, instead of For enough.
We live From love, instead of For love.
Easy? Heavens no. But the alternative is to attach my identity or value or worth or capacity for well-being or my capacity to make a difference, on “what do they think?” or “how well did I perform?” and other self-conscious mantras. Which is another way of saying that we miss the point when we are keeping score.
Something wonderful happens when we tear up the scorecards and live From love. We find ourselves knee deep in delight (yes, often gladly in something that wasn’t even on your list).
So, this is my prayer: I want the “child in me” to be awake and fully alive, in this life, in this moment, the very one I am living today. I want to give way to gladness, contentment, joy and gratitude. And yes, to laughter. And to a heart that sings. Even, and especially, when life feels heavy or upside-down.

I’m writing this on my way to Houston, Texas where I will spend time with a group of Lay Chaplains. And our topic: What makes my heart sing?
On the weather report this morning, I see a good part of the states are under winter freeze watch. Please be very watchful out there.
In Seattle it’ll be rain. And I loved seeing this story. An Axios survey reported that 82% of Seattleites said they own an umbrella, yet only 6% reported using one when it is wet outside. Amen. Welcome to Seattle.
And for those who wondered why I didn’t mention any college football bowl games this past couple of weeks, I can assure you that I wore my Michigan cap proudly. (And yes, I tipped my hat to my Ohio State friends.)
During the coming year, if there’s any way that I can be of benefit to your organization or parish or business, please let me know.

Quote for our week…
“Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.” Henry Ward Beecher

Note: The Snake story is adapted from a version by Ann Herbert

BULLETIN BOARD

Today’s Photo Credit: “Good morning Terry, This was God’s gift to me on my morning walk on New Year’s Day. This photo was taken at Heron Bay in San Leandro, California. I thought I would share with you. I love The Sabbath Moments you send and post. I share many of them. I also love your daily post on Facebook. Many of them give me food for thought and sometimes teary eyed. Thank you. Happy New Year,” Pat Moore… 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…
–Terry, Thank you for Sanctuary, Daily Dose. I love reading your stories and seeing the beautiful photos. It’s a moment of calm in a chaotic and now often frightening world. I left organized religion years ago and now follow the path of “nature is my religion and earth is my church”, yet I feel welcome here. Happy New Years Eve, Teresa
–Terry, thank you for sharing all of your daily reflections and thoughts. And thanks for leading me to a new “year end/beginning”. It is being shared with my many chorale friends. Your daily thoughts are truly a sanctuary visit each day and give me so much to digest as I struggle with health issues. Blessings for all you do! Shareen
–Thank you for these reflections which touch me daily. May we keep the faith, hope and love in our hearts and extend that to all. Nancy
–God bless you for sharing your New Year’s thought, thank you for sharing your gift. You gave me HOPE and focus As I deal with my husband’s dementia yet another year. Lorraine
–Terry thank you for “Sanctuary”. There’s a calling to that word. A place, a moment, a feeling. Your words lead us there and remind us to be grateful for all our Sanctuaries however, where ever they may be. Deb
–Terry, you have made my day one more time with Sabbath Moments. God bless you in the New Year for always blessing us. Kathleen
–You are making a difference by showing and reminding your readers that there is a light in the world that can never be put out. You share and spill your light on your good and bad days. On your good days I am grateful that you share your light to make my and my friends days brighter. On your bad days you brake through the darkness not just in your life but in all those who read your moments day by day to be lifted up. Bad days turn into good days when we hold each other in the light. Judit
–Hey, friend, Your words came today at a very opportune moment. At the tender age of 83, I am very aware of the diminishing of many faculties, and am grieving their loss. Helen Keller certainly had many things lacking, but she says she chooses to do those things she CAN do! Then you have added the notion that I can do things in the small world, even though the big world can no longer benefit from my poor efforts! So for the umpteenth time I thank you, Rob
–Dear Terry, Your gift of hope each new day is a light in my life. And I HOPE you will continue to share your thoughts, insights, and wonderful quotes from other wise souls with us as we each continue walking one another home. Blessings on your year. Kay