A friend reached out this a.m. after reading St Therese’s prayer. She has lost both her parents in the last few months. We chatted a bit about grief and asking for strength. She commented she wasn’t sure who she was talking to in her head, but that traditional beliefs did not have a presence in her life right now.
Completely understandable, we don’t feel very spirited in the wilderness.
It got me to thinking…
Faith. Does it matter what you are having faith in, or just that you are choosing to believe?
And which feels better right now– to project hope into a future positive possibility or to fear the worst?
Faith is seeing possibilities, not just problems. (What is a problem solver anyway? I think it’s just someone that believes in possible solutions.)
“It is important to tell our secrets too because … it makes it easier for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own, and exchanges like that have a lot to do with what being a family is all about and what being human is all about.”Fred Buechner
It’s a good week because I am getting to read my favorite writer each day when I write this. (It’s a good week for a lotta reasons.) A curious thing- I just came across my very first concept of Fred Buechner’s that I didn’t like or agree with. What’s weird, I like that I found it, lest I start to idolize him a bit too much.
I once met Mr. Buechner. It was as unlikely as can be- I saw a flyer that he’d be speaking on a back patio around the corner from our house, and later learned he lived smack dab across the street from us in Florida.
Wait the same ocean you reflect on is the one I’m reflecting on? That’s cool. If you don’t know Fred Buechner’s writing, it’s all about reflection, a humble sharing of our very human experiences, as really our raison d’être.
When I met Mr. Buechner he was giving a small talk. It was about ten years ago and about eight of us sat in a garden by a fountain while birds chirped in the trees. Pretty idyllic, except that Mr. Buechner had scratched his eye earlier that morning and was quite uncomfortable.
I thought later how imperfectly perfect that was too. Just a guy, with a painful eye, whose life work is to connect humans with humans and humans with God, being as humanly uncomfortable and candid as one can be… In a way I think we are all called to be.
The Guest House, Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
A-Muse from Covid quarantine creative daze:
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