Dear Friends,
Every evening, as we sit at table for supper, we witness a flurry of activity at the hummingbird feeder. Even though there are eight feeding holes at the base of the feeder, each evening there were at least five or six hummingbirds vying for a spot at the feeder for refreshment and nourishment. Two will approach and upon seeing each other, will make a frenzied and usually successful attempt to prevent each other from gaining their intended sustenance. Though it doesn’t happen often, on occasion I have seen two or even three hummingbirds feeding at the same time, apparently unaware they are sharing the same food. A most common occurrence is the early arrival of the male I have dubb
ed “the sentry”. Each evening his appearance at his post on top of the feeder hanger signals the onset of this most active feeding time. He watches for approaching hummingbirds and when they come near he darts off after them, chases them away and then returns to his post. I wonder if the other hummingbirds grumble about being hungry and unable to reach the feeder while “the sentry” maintains his post. Eventually though, he does leave and the others come by, one by one, and are able to receive their evening sustenance.
After leaving Egypt, where they lived in slavery but at least knowing where their next meal was coming from, and wandering in the hot, dry, barren desert the Israelites began to grumble about the lack of food (Exodus 16:2-3). It was as if they viewed Moses and Aaron as my little sentry hummingbird - as leaders who prevented the Israelites from receiving daily sustenance. The story is a familiar one – God provides manna, bread, each morning, enough to fill and sustain each and everyone. It’s truly a test of human faith but more significantly it is a sign of the mercy, care, compassion, grace, blessing and love of the Sacred Provider.
Who or what in our life and relationships, our community, our world symbolizes “the sentry”, preventing those in need of receiving daily bread – be it in the form of food, employment, justice, mercy, compassion, understanding, spiritual nourishment? Are there ways we too may at times be “the sentry” obstructing others from obtaining such daily bread? What are the signs, both subtle and visible, all around us – in our lives, in others, in nature – that point us toward seeing and receiving and even being the grace and peace and nourishment we and others yearn for and need to feed our very souls?
Peace on the Journey
Dear Friends,As a child, I spent a great deal of time “out in the country” at grandma and grandpa’s house, particularly during the summer months. Back in those days it was pretty common for Saturday to be designated as baking day. Grandma spent the morning whipping up tasty treats like pies, cakes, sweet rolls and, of course, big batches of bread dough. She baked white and rye bread every Saturday – enough to last all week. The mouth-watering aroma of bread baking in the oven filled the whole house and we had a really hard time waiting for that first slice of buttered freshly baked bread. Grandma’s caraway rye bread was my all time favorite. One day when I was around eleven years old, I asked grandma if I could help her make the rye bread. Grandma added and mixed all the ingredients and my job was to knead the dough and eventually shape it into loaves, of course under her close supervision. And, as usual, that first slice of freshly baked bread was so yummy. When we had the kitchen all cleaned up, I asked grandma if she would write down her recipe for rye bread so I could make some at home. Now, grandma was the sort of baker who didn’t use a written recipe, adding “some” of this and a “pinch” of that, so my request had her scratching her head searching for a way to tell me the amounts of each ingredient she used. Then she hit on an idea, pulled out one of her old church cookbooks, found a recipe for rye bread and let me take the cookbook home with me.
The following Saturday, with all the ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter, I proceeded to measure and add the ingredients until… There was one thing about the recipe I just didn’t understand. It called for “5¢ worth of yeast”. In panic mode, I got on the phone and asked grandma “How much is 5¢ worth of yeast???" She laughed for a long time and finally told me to use “half of a small cake of yeast” (back in those days there was no such thing as dry yeast). My first solo attempt at making rye bread was fairly successful – not as good as grandma’s bread and the loaf turned out a little lopsided, but that familiar mouth-watering aroma while baking was there and…it was actually edible. That evening I proudly placed a plate of the bread I baked on the supper table and shared it with my family. There’s something about bread that satisfies – making it, smelling it baking, sharing it…
And “Jesus took the (five) loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those (the five thousand) who were reclining” (John 6:11). In the blessing, breaking and sharing of bread, and himself, the people were filled - satisfied. Just as Jesus was blessed (as the son of the Most High), broken (rejected, condemned, crucified), and shared himself and his message of love and compassion, are we not also in our own human and unique ways to be living examples of bread? Are we not all blessed as wonderfully made in the image of our Sacred Creator? Who among us has not had life experiences that caused us to feel broken – both through circumstances that happen to us and our intentional choices to let go our egos and own comfort for the sake of another? Do we not also have a responsibility to share of ourselves, our blessings and talents, so that friend and stranger alike can be fed and satisfied – perhaps not with actual food but certainly with the rich nourishment of our care, love, and compassion?
Being bread can make all the difference in the world.Peace on the Journey
Dear Friends,
This past week I noticed a different sort of bird perched on the crossbar of our close line post. At first glance it appeared to be one of the male orchard orioles who frequent the hummingbird feeder. But its colors were much darker and I could see not even a hint of the deep orange belly coloring characteristic of this species. So, I got out the binoculars to take a closer look. Still I couldn’t tell what kind of bird it was but it definitely was not an orchard oriole and…to my surprise, instead of seeing one bird, there were two sitting very closely side by side. I went to fetch the camera, hoping by the time I returned to the window they would still be there. They were. I zoomed into Macro for a close-up and concentrated more on holding the camera steady than the image in the view finder, though I was certain when I snapped the picture the image of those two little winged creatures would be recorded. Reviewing my digital “masterpiece”, although it was a bit fuzzy, I was b
oth surprised and delighted at what I saw: not only could I identify these birds as barn swallows, which I have never before seen perched anywhere in our yard, but mother swallow had swooped in to feed her young! (Click on picture for a larger view, then click the "Back" arrow on your browser to return here.)
That got me to pondering ways in which we are nourished, or fed. Physically, of course, there is food – the meals and snacks we eat. Some are healthy and nutritious concoctions; others are, well, just plain junk food that contribute little to our physical well-being but can be oh so tempting and tasty treats. Our bodies are also nourished and rejuvenated by rest, relaxation, and activity. Emotionally we are nourished through our relationships with others, provided those relationships are life-giving. Engaging in reading, stimulating conversations, learning new things nourishes our intellect. Spiritually we are nourished, or can be, in a variety of ways – taking time to notice the wonders and power and play of creation while walking in the woods or on a beach or even in our own back yard; reading books or articles by authors we find inspirational (Henri Nouwen, Parker Palmer and Thomas Merton come to mind); scripture reading; engaging in spiritual practices such as meditation; centering, breathing, or any kind of prayer; journaling; attending a church service; taking time away from our busy, activity-driven lives to rest and renew; seeking out a spiritual companion with whom we can delve into our deepest desires and questionings; etc., to name a few. Unlike those two little swallows, we humans do not always have to depend on others to force-feed us spiritually, though a relationship or a connection is integral to our sense of spiritual nourishment.
After a time away engaging in getting “the message” out, “The Twelve” returned, probably both excited by their experience as well as exhausted. And Jesus said, “"Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while" (Mark 6:31). He well knew the value and necessity of rest to renew and restore physical stamina as well as, and importantly, the opportunity solitude presents for an intimate, life-giving connection with not only each other but our inner selves and our Sacred Creator as well. Unfortunately for them at the time, their popularity was well known and the crowds actually beat them to their intended place of rest. But that this occurred is ultimately fortunate for us in that we become able to inject ourselves into the story and identify with that crowd who intentionally sought out the “food” that would nourish and sustain their spiritual hunger.
Unlike those little swallows that waited patiently for their mother to bring food to them, we are invited to seek out ways to nourish our very souls. Because each of us is wonderfully and uniquely created and though we may have had similar but clearly distinct life experiences, there is no one “right way” or path or practice for everyone that will lead us toward spiritual enrichment, for there exists many ways. I believe the key to seeking spiritual nourishment for ourselves directly relates to the depth of our commitment and intentional desire for interconnectedness and relationship with The Divine and with all of creation.
Peace on the Journey
Dear Friends,
There is a very large tree just outside the side door of my mother-in-law’s house that the family calls “the bean tree”. It’s the last tree (that I know of) to get its leaves every year and in fall it produces very long bean-shaped spikes that dangle from the branches. Last weekend my grandson brought to me a branch of blossoms from this tree: beautifully delicate tr
umpet shaped white blossoms highlighted with hints of yellow and purple. Even though we put the small branch in water, the blossoms very soon wilted. So I was glad I snapped a picture of them when they were still in good shape. This branch of blossoms was chosen by my grandson because, as he put it, “Grandma will like this”. And he was right! I do so delight in the beauty of nature.
Throughout our lives we make a multitude of choices. Some are rather ordinary and made almost without being conscious of them – what time to get up in the morning and when to head to bed at night, how far we let the gas gauge in our vehicles head toward “E” before we fill up the tank again, whether to throw a load of whites in the washer before the load of colors or the other way around. Other choices are more important: who we will associate with and call friends, where we will go to school, the type of employment we will seek, where we will go on vacation. And still other choices are much more integral to our life as it unfolds: whom we will marry (if we do indeed intend to marry), how we will raise our children (if we do and are able to have children), if we will dare to follow our dreams and passions at the risk of criticism, ridicule and/or lack of understanding by those we are close to. But making choices is not the same as being chosen.
One year, way back in my grade school days, I was determined to try out for the cheerleading squad. My best friend and I faithfully practiced the moves and jumps for week and weeks every afternoon after school. The day of the try-outs arrived and I thought we both performed pretty well. I remember wanting so very much to be chosen for the squad and had high hopes it would happen. After the try-outs, one of the judges, a very popular girl, asked me in a rather condescending way, “Do you REALLY want to be a cheerleader?” Hmm…it wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it that caused my shyness and sense of unworthiness to rise up and I replied, “No” (though I really didn't mean it). In the end I was not chosen for the squad and ultimately, at the time, felt devastated. I dare to suggest most if not all of us have had some type of experience that left us feeling let down as the result of not being chosen for something.
Being chosen can take us out of our comfort level. The prophet Amos found that out. Amos lived and worked in Judah (the Southern kingdom) and yet it was to Israel (the Northern kingdom) where he was commanded to prophesy. He came to realize he was not wanted there and the Sacred message he proclaimed was not accepted (Amos 7:12). The “Twelve” were chosen by Jesus and sent off to preach and heal with the warning that there may be places where they and their message and works are not wanted (Mark 6:7-13). Sometimes people cannot or are not ready to embrace the truth or the person sent to proclaim the truth.
Jesus is known by many names, The Chosen One, being one of them. Though we read in the gospels of miracles, healings, teachings, preaching and reaching out to the outcast, in the end Jesus too was often criticized and ultimately abandoned and rejected by many of his own people. But because of and out of his short life of ministry Christianity was born and continues to this day.
We too are chosen by our Sacred Creator; we all have a divine purpose and mission in life. What that is for each of us is unique just as each and every of us is uniquely and wonderfully made. It’s pretty much a given that because of our being chosen we will be nudged (or pushed) to places we would rather not go. Places like forgiving those who hurt or reject us, letting go of our ego and tendency to have it our way for the sake of the other, giving of ourselves – our time and blessings – to show compassion, care and comfort toward others, even speaking the truth as we have come to know it. Gosh, it’s so much easier to just go about not making waves and being concerned only with and taking care of ourselves! But... is that really the meaning of our being chosen?
Peace on the Journey
Dear Friends,Our yard is abuzz with bird activity of late. The hummingbirds and orioles are still vying for a spot at the window-mounted hummingbird feeder nearly all day long, the deck rail is a favorite daily perch for various species of sparrows, the finch feeder is extremely popular, and for the first time ever a couple of immature cardinals have ventured out of the woods and are often showing up on our deck. Lately the Eastern bluebirds have returned after a few weeks absence adding some beautiful color to the yard. Apparently it’s time for their second nesting. The other night I noticed one pair favoring the birdhouse where the tree swallows nested in spring. The male bluebird disappeared inside the birdhouse and almost immediately a tree swallow showed up perhaps thinking the house was his. Such is not the case as for the past few days the bluebirds have claimed the house, probably to the dismay of the swallow that had designs on returning back home. Circumstances change.
Many years ago, after my first round of continued education beyond high school, I returned to live at home for a year having secured my first job in the area. It was the first of several similar eye-opening experiences on the effects of going back home. Even though I had been away at school for three years, living in a dorm, finding my identity as young adult and feeling oh so very independent, I was amazed (or was it shocked or disappointed?) at being treated as if I had never left: I was still the child. Not much had changed in my parent’s eyes yet I had changed and grown. That saying about never being able to go home again rang true. Yes, I was back home again, but life there was certainly not how I had hoped it would be. Instead of being seen as an adult, I was for all intents and purposes still very much their “little girl”. It appeared the circumstances changed, but only for me. It wasn’t until a year later, when I moved on to another job and another city that I was able to find myself anew and live my independence once again. There’s much value in being able to be who we are.
When Jesus returned home, he was rejected to so speak. At least his message was rejected with the words, “"Where did this man get all this? What kind of wisdom has been given him? What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands! Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?" (Mark 6:2-3). Apparently in his home town he would always be known for who he was during his growing up years. But circumstances had changed. Even though the people of Nazareth appeared to lack the faith in order to truly see Jesus for who he had become – who he really was – he did not allow their “offense” to alter his image or his mission.
It’s probably a given that people from our past – family, friends, classmates – will in one way or another keep us confined in a “convenient” little box by viewing and treating us as we once were without taking into account our growth, change and development through the course of our years of lived experience. The good news is that we are all wonderfully and uniquely made in the image of our Sacred Creator, who is woven so lovingly into the tapestry of our being and who, if we have the courage and faith to listen and follow the Holy Whisperings, fashions us into becoming who we are intended to be.
Peace on the Journey
ed “the sentry”. Each evening his appearance at his post on top of the feeder hanger signals the onset of this most active feeding time. He watches for approaching hummingbirds and when they come near he darts off after them, chases them away and then returns to his post. I wonder if the other hummingbirds grumble about being hungry and unable to reach the feeder while “the sentry” maintains his post. Eventually though, he does leave and the others come by, one by one, and are able to receive their evening sustenance.
