Encouragement — Page 19

31 Days of Aging Gracefully: Day 7 — Staying Open

October 7, 2015 By Diana

Our new home provides visual reminders on a moment-to-moment basis that it is a very good thing to stay open to the widest view possible. We are continually stunned by what we see from the entire backside of this house — the foothills, the city (with all it’s landmarks, including the mission — twin towers, can you spot it?)

Here, maybe this one will help:

No matter which direction you face, there is something lovely and interesting to look at.

And at just the right spot, you can even see a glimpse of the harbor, especially if you use the zoom feature on your iPhone camera. (Smile.)

Although I am not interested in being ‘hip’ as an aging woman, I do want to stay at least somewhat current. I want to know what’s happening in our world, in our churches, in our families, in our communities. I want to be open to learning, changing, growing. The stereotypical picture of an old fogie is NOT what I want to become.

And it’s so easy to get there. Especially if I let yesterday’s lesson go to waste — if I choose fear over hope and joy. Many older folks are frightened, I think. And too often, they let that fear be the rudder of life. There is, under all else, the fear of death. But there are so many other things to fear — falling, failing, losing touch, life/culture/society changing beyond recognition. Yes, there are lots of things to be fearful about. But . . .

But there is also much to celebrate, to learn, to try. So . . . what if we begin to ask for hope early on in our lives? What if we make it a goal to learn more each year? What if we listen to people who disagree with us, civilly and earnestly? What if?

Maybe, just maybe, we might discover that life becomes more interesting, intriguing, palatable, maybe even more recognizable? Because let’s face it, friends:

CHANGE HAPPENS.

Things shift, ideas morph, interpretations vary. Truth is truth — but our understanding of it does not stay the same. The world has never been flat, but for a whole lotta centuries, we were sure convinced of its flatness.

For me, a huge part of aging gracefully is cultivating a desire to preferentially lean toward openness. For that to happen, there must also be a regular, practiced release of . . . all that fear.

Which is why that was yesterday’s topic. And this one is today’s. (Smile)

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Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Aging, Beauty, Blessings, Encouragement, Lifelong Learning

31 Days of Aging Gracefully: Day 6 — Facing Fear

October 6, 2015 By Diana

If I am being honest — and I want to be, to use this space to speak my own truth, as I am experiencing it — I have to admit that this past year has been laced with fear. Falling flat on my face, spending time in the hospital as a result, suffering through a torn abdominal muscle and the resulting nerf-football-sized hematoma plus low blood counts and a medicare form that read, ‘life-threatening treatment’ — all of the above has brought bouts of anxiety the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.

It’s a very scary thing to face into your own frailty, to face into the possibility of life forever changed. I’ve had some small panic attacks and flashbacks that have stopped me in my tracks in the past few months, and I’ve uttered the Jesus Prayer more times than I can possibly count.

If I let it, fear could pretty much rule my life these days. That picture at the top of the page is of a sunset we enjoyed the third week in our new home. Stunning, isn’t it? Yet, still. A sunset, right? The end of the light. The end. That’s what I could choose to focus on as a result of the anxiety level rising to code red proportions. I could so easily be a real Chicken Little type, friends. SO easily.

But I don’t want to do that. Truly, I do not. Yes, I want to be increasingly realistic about the truth that my days on this planet are stretching less far out into the future than ever before. Duh. This is true for all of us, every day, right? But do we focus on that truth?

Or do we choose to enjoy the diminishing light for as long as we possibly can? Have you ever noticed that sunsets tend to be longer than sunrises? It takes a while for that light to leave the sky. And as it fades, it can be exquisitely beautiful, sending beams of color across the sky and the landscape below. I want to be a lovely sunset, don’t you?

And I want to remember that the sun also rises. Every single day. Rain or shine. There it is, sending its beams out to nourish and sustain us, shining down on us, even through the foggiest, grayest day. For every sunset, there is a sunrise.

And there will be one for me, too.

This picture, taken on one of my morning walks, deep into our new neighborhood, reminds me of that truth in a powerful way. As the sin was rising this day, I could see a cruise ship come into view. A big ole boat, filled with tourists, happy to be taking in the sights and enjoying the water. Reflecting on this photo helps me to breathe out the fear, to breathe in the hope, to lean into the promised future that is mine as a child of God. Don’t know if there will be a cruise ship to ferry me there, but I’m bound and determined I’m going to enjoy the ride.

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Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Aging, Beauty, biblical reflection, Confession, death, Encouragement

31 Days of Aging Gracefully: Day 4 — Sizing Down

October 4, 2015 By Diana

Those of you who are subscribed to my semi-monthly newsletter have been following along on our latest adventure over here on the central coast of California. On August 10th of this year, we moved from this God-given home set up against the foothills, a place of refuge and retreat for us for the past 18 years. It is located on an acre, with a long driveway and large parking area, a pool in the backyard and loads of fruit trees and roses all over the place. Plus about 3,000 square feet inside, perfect for entertaining — both church groups and family. We found it after nearly five months of searching, me living in a parishioner’s guest house and my husband making the 120 mile commute during the middle three days of each week. And it was a gift when it landed in our lives. A gift.

But the times, they are SO changing! We’ve been retired from our former lives for almost five years now, both of us finding other meaningful work to do and many more hours in the week to spend putzing around our home. And we began to realize that we didn’t need quite so much home to putz in anymore. So I spent about 18 months looking and praying and last spring, this little gem showed up. Tiny yard, about 1000 less square feet, and a view from the entire back of the house. It’s a 1950’s tract house, yet still has character and we are just now settling into it fully, after many weeks of renovation here and there. (Mostly adding built-ins full of shelves for our too-many books. Even after purging, there were a lotta them things!)

Those twice-a-month newsletters have been full of before-and-after pictures, plus some reflecting on what it means to us to choose to do this now, while we’re still sturdy enough to endure the slings and arrows of a physical move. Neither of our parental sets made this move soon enough — they were in their 80s and our dads were each terribly frail and ill. Neither of our moms was able to make choices about what to keep and what to toss, so their kids ended up doing the biggest part of that particular load. After touring our local retirement community (and putting our names on the the wait list — which tends to be many years long!), we opted to size down now by moving ten minutes away, and continuing in home ownership.

One of the big plusses of this house is a good-sized family room (every other room is quite a bit smaller than our previous home) which has its own bathroom and an outside entrance. We figured that if we should ever need a live-in caregiver, that space would be perfect.

Hopefully, that won’t happen. But you never know, do you?

No, we don’t. We just do not.

We’re glad we made this choice, even though we’re both feelin’ the aches and pains of harder physical labor than we’ve done in a while! It’s a good space for us, we even love our tiny little bedroom-with-a-city-view. PLUS — each of us has a small study. And that, I might add, is ESSENTIAL, if it is at all possible. A long-married couple needs a little space from one another when they’re together pretty much 24/7, know what I mean?

Downsizing has been a good idea. And I’m thinking all the time about ways in which the principles learned in our crosstown move might apply to other areas of living as well.

Have any of you downsized in some way? What are the plusses and minuses for you??

Feel free to share my button, on your own blog, or in social media circles:

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Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Aging, Beauty, Blessings, Encouragement

Own and Share Who You Are — SheLoves Magazine

October 3, 2015 By Diana

I got bumped up early this month over at SheLoves, for their October theme of ‘power.’ What a great topic to reflect on. You can begin my essay here and then follow the link over to the best women’s magazine on the web, okay? Always good conversation in that place!

It’s taken me a lifetime to inhabit this skin of mine. In truth, I believe that habitation to be one of our primary tasks in this life — to realize who it is we’re created to be, to own it, to live it, to share it. It takes time, it takes intention, it takes attention, and it takes oodles and oodles of trust to get anywhere close to realizing any one of that little list of verbs, much less all four: realize, own, live, share.

Despite the great strides that have been (and are being) made on behalf of equality for women in the western world, this particular piece — this piece called ownership — is still so difficult for many of us. And sadly, more than difficult, it is impossible for far too many of our gender, born into repressive cultures at various places around the globe.* There is work still to be done, isn’t there? Even here, even now.

I believe that those of us who follow the rabbi from Nazareth are invited to lead the way. Everything about the ministry of Jesus spoke to the beautiful truth of the good news Jesus brought, the good news Jesus lived out while walking our earth, the good news the Holy Spirit continues to whisper in our ears. And here it is: we are loved by, wanted by, seen by and have the choice to be filled by . . . an Almighty God. A God who calls us friends, even children.

Which makes us — children of the King.

Just let that wash over you for a minute or two.

This kingdom God invites us to enter is not like any kingdom we’ve studied about in history books. It is marked by humility, service, even suffering. But it is also a place where healing happens, where goodness rises, where power is available from one moment to the next, no matter how difficult any particular one of those moments may prove to be. It is a place of hope, and justice, of valuing one another and also? Of learning to love ourselves as we discover who we are in the light of God’s redemptive, empowering love.

So . . . who are you? What are the gifts that God asks you to pour into this world? Where is your primary ‘playing field,’ the place where the power of God can be released through you?

Please join us at SheLoves and help us reflect on what it looks like to fully realize who we are, and God loves and empowers us.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Blessings, Encouragement, Enough, Fighting Scarcity, God's gifts, Grace, hope, personal journey, SheLoves

31 Days of Aging Gracefully – Day 2: Living in Gratitude

October 2, 2015 By Diana

“Even to your old age I will be the same, And even to your graying years I will bear you! I have done it, and I will carry you; And I will bear you and I will deliver you.” — Job 12:12

I have got the gray hair DOWN.

Just like my father before me, the hair around my face started to turn white over ten years ago. Gradually, it spread and now is pretty much white all over this old head of mine. Fortunately, I like it. It took a little adjusting, but I figured — hey, I used to spend a fair amount of money paying my lovely hairstylist (also a friend) to weave blonder hair through my dark ash. At about the age of 60, I no longer needed to do that.

Score!

There are a few other signs of advancing years that are not quite so easy to accept, however: joints that wear out, skin that sags and grows strange, dark spots as well as completely unacceptable hairs in some places and absolutely none in others. Ahem. There are definitely losses that come with the gift of years and I think they must be grieved and released.

But.

If I’ve learned anything at all in the difficult year just past, it is this: every single minute of life is a gift. Period. And none of us is guaranteed any of it. Serious illness or injury can happen in a heartbeat and we can never know which breath might be our last. I do not mean that in a morbid or maudlin way. Not at all. I just want to underscore the important truth that length of life is beyond our control. Yes, there are healthy habits we can endorse to help however many years we live to be more comfortable (perhaps!), but how long we live is not up to us.

Adopting the attitude that every minute we breathe is a gift from above can do wonders for any negative thoughts we might carry with us about the process of aging. Yes, we can still moan about the difficulties. But around and underneath and encircling all of that moaning, there needs to be something else, something even more basic and life-giving. There needs to be gratitude. Deep, overflowing wells of it.

Being grateful is the single most potent life-extending medicine I know anything about. And practicing gratitude, repeatedly and often, is good for the soul as well as the heart, lungs, and brain. This is the number one lesson to be learned if we want to enter into the last years of our lives with grace and confidence:

SAY THANK YOU.

Over and over again.

Thank you to God, for the gift of this life and this world. Thank you to family and friends for loving us and putting up with us. Thank you to the clerk at the grocery store, to the man who picks up our garbage, to the people who help you care for your garden or your home, to the children you see playing in the neighborhood, to the birds who flit by and make your life more joyful, to the roof that covers you safely at night, to the floor which holds you up and keeps you out of the dirt. Everything is a gift.

Do you see it?

Feel free to share my button, on your own blog or in any form of social media you choose:

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Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Aging, Beauty, Encouragement, Gratitude

The 31-Day Write: 31 Days of Aging Gracefully

October 1, 2015 By Diana

2015 marks year 4 of the 31 Day Writing challenge for me. First was 31 Days in Which I Am Being Saved by Beauty (2012), then there were 31 Days of Giving Permission (2013), and last year, it was 31 Days of Looking for the Little.

This is a year of facing into reality for me. I turned 70 in January, I landed in the hospital in February and again, at the end of April. I traveled to Kauai in July with our entire clan to celebrate FIFTY years of marriage, and in August, my husband and I moved, downsizing after 18 years in a much-loved larger home with a huge yard.

Yeah, it was time. It IS time.

I am old and getting older by the minute, and if I’m going to have even a tiny chance of doing this aging thing well, I want to be intentional about it. So that is what I’ve chosen to write about for the next 31 days.

I’m nervous about this, to tell you the truth. I happen to find myself at a somewhat painful juncture, realizing I am beginning to be invisible in some ways. Do you know that about getting old in this culture? Elders are not always seen, even in their own family setting. I’m not sure this is intentional, but it surely is reality. Maybe it’s because we’ve been around so long, we’ve become part of the furniture, always available. Maybe it’s because we serve as somewhat painful pointers to the future for those who are younger. Maybe it’s because as we age, we tend to slow down a bit, to measure our words more, to give up the drivenness and hungry ambition that are so much a part of mid-life in 21st century western culture. Whatever the reasons, I am choosing to step out of the invisibility cloak this month and put some words out into cyberspace about how I’d like to live these last years of my life.

I am hoping that these reflections will be both highly individual — reflections on my own aging process and what I’m learning — and at that same time, universal in their application. After all, none of us gets a ‘pass’ from this stuff, do we? If we’re fortunate to avoid accident or early terminal illness, we all must face into the reality of bodies that grow old and weary, of choices becoming more limited. And hopefully, of enjoying the benefits of wisdom gained, gratitude grown, joy multiplied, insights deepened.

I’ve got a list, and will do my best to work ahead a little. I’m hoping to have a post up every day, but if I miss a few here and there, extend a little bit of grace, okay? After all, I’m OLD. (said with a smile)

In the meantime, please grab my button and follow along!

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Filed Under: Aging, Beauty, Blessings, Blogging, community, Confession, Encouragement, Fighting Scarcity, God's gifts, Grace, Gratitude, Hard Things, hope, personal journey Tagged With: 31 Day Write, Aging Gracefully

Learning to Bend — A Post for Amber Haines

September 14, 2015 By Diana

There are some people you know instantly are kindred spirits. Amber Haines is one of those for me. I have read her blog faithfully for five years, have cried with her over the health crises of her youngest son Titus (virtually only, though I’d have been more than willing to do so in person if she didn’t live all the way across the country!), even won some beautiful Amber-made jewelry several years ago. She has a new book out – a beautiful book which I hope to review in this space very soon. I urge you to order your own copy of “Wild in the Hollow: On Chasing Desire & Finding the Broken Way Home.” This piece is one of a long series of guest posts that she has invited, each of them speaking to that broken way home in one way or another. An image she uses in her book is of the cold linoleum floor on which she was found by God one desperate night. And that’s where this piece begins.

That bathroom floor can be a cold and lonely place. I’ve been there, at the end of myself, done in by doing good, exhausted by my own refusal to ask for help, by my unhealthy relationship with food, by my misunderstanding of the gospel of grace. There are all kinds of ways to be broken and I am no exception.

All my life, I have been the good girl — obedient, careful, helpful, the one who takes care of things and people. I don’t think I ever went through a rebellious phase as a teenager. Maybe it’s because I’m an eldest child, maybe it’s the way my mother instilled certain fears in me at an early age, maybe it’s the way I’m wired. I never tried anything on the ‘don’t do’ list, I never quit going to church, I read my Bible and prayed every day, I toed every line put in front of me, generally without complaint. To most people looking in, I was a very together person.

Along the way, however, I never learned much about self-care, about healthy boundaries, about knowing when to stop. And I learned to use food as . . . well, just about everything: a pacifier, a reward, a comfort, a go-to, quick-fix for any emotional struggle, a boredom-satisfier, a crutch when facing a difficult situation, even a subversive way to be rebellious. And for many years, it worked pretty well.

Except for the unfortunate fact that I carried far too many pounds on this large frame. Despite the copious tears that I’ve shed over that truth during the last 40+ years, I now see that that my size was an important part of my story. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I needed to be big. Big enough to meet the needs of all the people around me, big enough to take care of three little ones who came faster than imaginable, big enough to deal with the busy schedule I always managed to set for myself, big enough to get through seminary at mid-life, big enough to handle whatever curveball my pastoral jobs might throw at me. Big enough.

Slowly, with time and experience — much of it difficult and painful — I am learning to lean into the biggest truth I’ve learned: it’s okay to be small. In fact, it’s necessary to be small — to recognize our own inability to ever be big enough, strong enough, good enough, devoted enough, loving enough, capable enough, sturdy enough . . . enough . . . unless . . . we learn how to bend.

Come along over to Amber’s place to read the rest of this and to join the conversation.

Filed Under: Aging, Amber's Writing Prompts, Blessings, Blogging, Confession, Encouragement, Enough, God's gifts, Guest Post, Looking for the Little, personal journey

The Surprising Nature of Grief

September 2, 2015 By Diana

He was in his late 50’s, I’m guessing. Salt and pepper hair and mustache, thick black shoes, Bermuda shorts and the usual bright red apron. I was at Home Depot, purchasing something or other for the work we’re doing on our new home, and I noticed him, cheerfully helping customers through the checkout process.

He was kind, with a peaceful, even happy expression on his face. I could see him from where I stood waiting in line, and I remember thinking, “That guy is one of the good ones. Yeah, the shoes with the shorts are a tad nerdy, but what a sweet man!”

I dug into my cart, laid my wares on the conveyor belt and he quickly moved to the end of the island, getting ready to put my purchases into a bag for me. I handed over my credit card, signed my name and turned to thank him as I got ready to exit the store. And that’s when I saw his name tag:

“KENNETH”

Big black letters, larger than life. And as I saw them, I was startled to hear a great gasping sob erupt from my mouth. The next minute, tears were streaming down beneath my sunglasses as I made my way back to the car.

I had been blindsided by grief, deep and wide.

Kenneth was my youngest brother’s name. The one who died in 2009. A man I’d never met called me early in the morning of October 2nd; he was the manager of Ken’s sober living residence. He’d found my number in my brother’s cell phone and told me tearfully that Ken passed away in his sleep. He was 53 years old.

Oh my, such a sweet man. Troubled, broken, sick and tired, but such a sweet man. I’ve written about him elsewhere, detailing his life of struggle and pain. But that day — that instant in the Home Depot — my thoughts were these:

This could have been my brother.

He would have been so good at a job like this.

Oh, how I miss him! Oh, how sorry I am for all the turmoil he endured! Oh, how I wish I could change it somehow.

But I cannot. I cannot go back in time, much as I might wish to do so. I cannot change one second of his life.

This much, though . . . this much, I can do:

I can acknowledge my own sadness about him.

I can make space for the grief to surprise me, again and again.

I can thank God for Ken every day.

I can pray for his sons and daughter-in-law.

I can remember the best pieces of his story.

I can pay attention to those I meet who remind me of him in some way — size, demeanor, struggle.

I can not be ashamed of the sobs, the tears, the sadness or him. Instead, I can remember him with love and gratitude, accepting him for who he was, warts and all, and rejoice that his suffering is over.

Grief comes in waves, they say. Who knew the tide would still roll after this many years? Sometimes I think I’m ‘used’ to all the death and dying we’ve experienced in our family circle. But I’m not, and — thank God — I never will be. Though it often comes disguised as blessing, especially after a long, difficult illness, death is always our last enemy, a reminder that our time in this sphere is limited and finite. Ah, Lord, I thank you that Ken’s dying was gentle, though his living was harsh.

I miss you, sweet brother of mine. I truly do.

Filed Under: Confession, death, Encouragement, family, grief, Hard Things, hope, Lament, personal journey, Suffering

It Flies By, I Tell You — It FLIES By!

August 27, 2015 By Diana

We don’t have any little ones around these days. Our youngest granddaughter, whose name is Lillian (Lilly), started kindergarten yesterday, and I can hardly wrap my mind around that reality. She is so tall, so smart, so much fun!

Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was this size?

She was just waking from her nap when I snapped this picture, during one of the earliest weeks she was with us after her mama returned to her medical practice. Twice a week for the next two and a half years she came to us — such joy! Having these last two grandchildren — and our only two girls out of eight — near enough to help with childcare has been one of life’s richest gifts during the last nine years.

But this week marks a whole series of turning points in our family circle. Dick & I are in a new-to-us, smaller home (if you want to follow along with our move and settling in process, sign up for my twice-monthly newsletter . . . and get a free eBook, while you’re at it! I send lots of pictures with each letter :-), our eldest grandson is earning his own way as a cinematographer, our second oldest begins his senior year at Pomona College, our 4th starts his senior year of high school, our 5th finishes middle school this year, our 3rd begins to scout colleges for next year’s application process, and our two gifts-in-the-midst-of-great-pain turn TEN this fall. And, of course, that littlest one . . . well, I’ve already told you, she is no longer so little.

And the truth is — I celebrate all this forward movement! This is the way it’s designed to be, this life of ours. We move through ages and stages, schools and jobs, relationships and self-awareness. All of these changes are good changes. But. They are changes. Visible and visceral reminders that we’re getting older, that we will not live forever, that we may very well not be around to see the youngest ones move through the transitions that the older ones are already enjoying.

Our son texted us tonight with a picture of the brand-new, gaping hole in Lilly’s mouth. She lost her first tooth on day two of school. Yet another reminder that time stops for none of us. Try as we might, we have absolutely no control of its passing. None. No matter what the cosmetics industry might try to sell us, aging is inevitable and irreversible. Period.

Yeah, this is a 70-year-old face, enjoying the company of my three female maternal cousins earlier this month. No one raises an eyebrow when I ask for the senior discount, far too many people offer to hold doors, help with grocery carts, and carry heavy objects.

But here’s the thing: I am still here. And I’m glad to be. There were a couple of moments during the year just past when I wasn’t entirely convinced that I would be around for long. Much as I hope for heaven, I am in absolutely no rush to leave earth behind. I love my life, even the rough parts of it. And as long as there are people to love and good work to do, I want to be here, loving and doing.

Yes, time flies. Those of you younger than 30 will not believe that last sentence. I didn’t either, especially when I had three babies under three and hadn’t slept in days. But hear me when I say it again: it goes by so fast. So live your life. Be present in each moment, see if you can resist the urge to hurry it along, find something to smile about at least once each hour and say thank you without ceasing.

Because if you reach my age, you’ll know this much: ALL OF IT is gift. Pure and simple, life is a gift. If you are blessed to live in a place that is free from war and extreme poverty, even if that place (like this place) is far from perfect, then you are among all people on this planet, truly gifted. Your gender or your age or your skin color or your sexual orientation may make your life more challenging at points. And yes, we all need to become more and more aware of how we each contribute to the ever-present sins of sexism, ageism, racism and homophobia, and we need to speak up for justice, goodness, truth and righteousness wherever and whenever we can.

I do not mean to downplay anyone’s pain and suffering. God knows, I’ve endured some myself and will continue to do so. So please hear me when I say this and know that I am fully cognizant of the struggle that often defines our days. Even so, your life is a gift. To you, to those who love you, to the world where you live, work, play, study, worship, contribute.

So make the time, set aside the time, carve out the time if you have to — but stop once in a while and just breathe. In and out. And say, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you,’ as you do so. Somehow, that simple act can make all the difference.

Time will still fly by, make no mistake about that. But you’ll see it just a little more clearly as it marches on by you. And you just might find yourself blinking back tears as the beauty of it all spins its iridescent web around your heart.

Filed Under: Aging, Blessings, Encouragement, Enough, family, God's gifts, Grandparenting, Gratitude, Hard Things, hope, Marriage, personal journey

Asking: Am I ‘All In?’

August 24, 2015 By Diana

I was invited to participate in worship leadership yesterday, the first time in a while I’ve been asked, and the first time in a longer while when I felt I could reasonably say ‘yes.’ We enjoyed a relatively quiet weekend for the first time in too long, so there was space, both on the calendar, and in my spirit, to think creatively about a passage of scripture and attempt to lead God’s people in prayer.

The sermon was from a short text in Ephesians 6 — the two verses immediately following that long list of ‘armor’ that every follow of Jesus needs to live fully, carefully and creatively in this world of ours. The verses that talk about Paul being an ‘ambassador in chains,’ the ones that talk about being full-out followers of Jesus, the ones that encourage us all to be people of prayer. . . all-the-time prayer, not just special-event-as-the-needs-build-up prayer.

As always, the altarpiece helped us to ‘see’ the passage, and Pastor Don’s sermon unpacked those words very well indeed. After the sermon, the worship team led us through 3 rounds of that wonderful, small Taize chorus, the one that goes:

O Lord, hear my prayer; O Lord, hear my prayer.
When I call, answer me.
O Lord, hear my prayer; O Lord, hear my prayer.
Come and listen to me.

And then we prayed a community prayer in three parts, the first and last from me, the middle one from Don, with the chorus sung liturgically between each part. It was good to lead in prayer again; I’m grateful.

We’ve heard a word from you today, Lord.
A good word, but also, I must admit,
a hard word.
It’s hard because today you’re asking us to be ‘all in.’

All of us, all the time, everywhere.

Gulp.

Somehow, it’s easier for us to be partly in, you know?
Especially on days like today, when we can come here,
to this beautiful space, and specifically focus on you —
on who you are, on who you call us to be.

It seems simpler for us to do that when we gather with your people,
when we sing the songs and pray the prayers and hear the words.

But today, your word is asking something else entirely.
And that something is important, and inclusive,
and — let’s be honest here — more than a little bit demanding.
It feels uncomfortable, maybe even disorienting,
because you’re asking us to be ambassadors, out there, in the world.

The world we live in, and study in.
The world we shop in, and work in,
the world where we converse with other people, all kinds of other people,
some of them really difficult.
The world where too many problems seem to have no answers,
where ugly things happen — things that scare us and overwhelm us.

But that is the world you made, the world you have set us in, the world you love.
And if we’re going to call ourselves your friends, then that’s the world where we must be.

Will you help us, please?
Lean in close and whisper words of truth and courage,
remind us of the depths of your love,
tell us the truth of who we are as your called,
and gifted
and empowered
representatives.

We have good news to share, to live, to offer.

Make us bold in our living, wherever we are,
from the kitchen to the boardroom,
from the study hall to the golf course,
from the baby nursery to the retirement home.

Wherever we are, whomever we’re with,
help us to radiate your love and grace,
in every conversation,
transaction,
encounter,
and circumstance.

Help us to be all in.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Part Two.

Lord, we confess that we are not always prepared for the battle.
We expect things to be nice and polite and to go our way.
We confess that we get wounded too easily and fight with others too harshly.

And the weapons we use to do battle just don’t get the job done.

So today, O God, would you re-arm our lives with your full armor?

Would you belt our lives with your eternal truth?

Would you cover our hearts with your breastplate of righteousness?

Would you put on our feet those fast shoes that spread the gospel of peace and reconciliation anywhere and everywhere we go?

Would you put in our hands that strong shield of faith that can absorb and quench the fiery attacks that often undo us?

Would you cover our heads and minds with that strong helmet of our salvation that cannot be taken away?

And give us your sword, your Word, anchored in our hearts, that Word which can fell and undo Satan and all his lies. Lord, make us strong. Hear our prayer.

Part Three

Some of us, Lord, have been doing this discipleship thing for a long time now.
Others of us are newer to the journey.
But all of us still have so much to learn about prayer.

About settling into that place where we do what the epistles call us to do with that impossible sounding phrase: “pray without ceasing.”

Maybe we find prayer difficult because we’ve misunderstood the richness of this gift, this means of communion with you.

Maybe we’ve been stuck in a rut of list-making,
and detailed itemizing.

Or maybe we think prayer is some strange specialty that’s better left
to the pastors and the wordsmiths.

Whatever the reasons, Lord, will you help us, right here and right now,
to just relax?

To sit here, in your presence, and say as little as possible.

Maybe a, ‘thank you!’
Or a, ‘bless them.’
Or a, ‘you’re amazing, Lord!’

Because that’s at the heart of it all, isn’t it?
Moving through our days with an awareness of you,
with a spirit of gratitude,
with an eagerness to find you, already at work in the midst of the details
that fill our time and our minds.

So as we sit here in this quiet space, and as we sing this lovely small song,
will you help us to unkink,
to let go of our need to be ‘good’ at things,
and just discover the simple joy of
being quiet, with you?

Thank you, Lord.
Bless us, Lord.
Praise you, Lord.

Amen.

We visited with some old friends and met a few new ones, too; we picked up some mail at our former home, and then we turned the car around, drove further than we’re used to on a Sunday morning, and spent the rest of the day enjoying the quiet beauty of our new space. I sat on a chaise lounge, in the sunshine for two hours, just being grateful for the ways in which we have been blessed in this life of ours. Not many words were said. And I was happy to be ‘all in,’ if only for an afternoon.