Tag: faith

What Am I Waiting For?

I was standing in line at Trader Joe’s right before Thanksgiving, and overheard a young woman ask the cashier where the Advent calendars were. She said she wanted to buy the one for dogs. I stifled a guffaw when he told her to look in aisle three. This was no joke! Advent calendars help children endure the long wait until Christmas with a daily chocolate. Maybe dogs get milk bones, but do they also need help waiting for December 25?

When my daughters were young, we always had an Advent calendar (never for pets), right next to our Advent wreath. I made my girls wait to open the little window each day so we could all share the ritual, complete with lighting the candles. I lectured them that waiting and longing is half the fun. One year, my middle daughter innocently asked, “But Mommy, what are we waiting for?”  My answer made no sense to her, but what a good question for everyone during Advent. Today, the art of waiting seems as obsolete as a dial telephone and the Walkman.

American culture likes to rush things. Christmas trees up at Costco before Halloween;  self-checkout in all the stores; AI for ideas, letter writing; Christmas cards sent in one swoop on social media. Meanwhile, the ancient themes of waiting and watching echo down through the ages. Be alert! Be aware!  Ponder, meditate, and carve out some quiet time amidst all the seasonal hoopla. Savor the moment, breathe. Reflect on the meaning of the season; watch and wait for the mystery of the Incarnation to be revealed in subtle ways. But alas, we cannot wait. We are done with Christmas before it even happens, and cannot wait until it’s over.

During the season of Advent, it often helps to ask: What am I waiting for? Take a few minutes, have a cup of coffee or tea, and try to make a list. You can even do this as you wait in line to pay for Christmas gifts, as you wait for the stoplight to change, as you wait for water to boil, or for spaghetti to cook.  Get into a spiritual frame of mind. Go big and small. Do not edit, just write.

Last Sunday, the first day of Advent, after having read the Sunday Scriptures, I made my yearly list. It was an old refrain. One I have had for decades:

I am waiting for lions to lie down with lambs, for swords to be made into ploughshares, for the proud to be scattered in their conceit, for the lowly to be lifted up, for the hungry to be filled, for the fearful to find trust, and for peace in our homes, our country, our world.  

This kind of waiting spans a lifetime and requires immense patience. Sadly, I am often impatient and feel like a voice crying out in the wilderness. Yet, despite sounding like an old prophet railing at the injustices of the world, I was buoyed up by a hidden grace that seemed to permeate my being. Suddenly, I felt held, sustained, and nourished by an infinite love streaming through the universe.  In a split second, a sense of wonder and compassion pierced right through me. Ah. Those brief minutes of clarity are always worth the wait.

Read-Walk-Write-Create

Summertime has arrived in all its sun-drenched, salty air beauty in Southern California. I wake at dawn and breathe deeply. Birds perform their daily arias, jasmine incense perfumes the air, and my heart lifts in gratitude. I have been gifted with another day, another chance to embrace life. How can I make the most of this time, surrounded by a million distractions? This is a question people frequently ask in spiritual direction. Choosing action words can help. Here are mine: read, walk, write, create. Prayer is the umbrella over all.

My day begins and ends with reading, nourishment and sustenance for my soul. Long ago, wise spiritual guides told me that with so many choices, I should make a list and only read “the best.” Such a great idea! I love lists and will post some on future blogs. My goal is to read about a hundred pages a day, and I usually have a novel and spiritual book going simultaneously. Reading every day provides a pleasurable escapism, but also provides opportunities for lifelong learning and spiritual growth.

Commitment to writing every day has long been a fulfilling practice. This may not be your thing, but I invite you to try journaling your thoughts about life sometime. Remember, no one will read what you wrote or give you a grade. I promise your concentration and memory will benefit greatly. Writing calms and grounds the restlessness that often accompanies mindless activity. Your writing does not have to be long, nor even your own. Handwritten thoughts and inspiring quotes decorate a paper calendar I keep on my desk. Blank verse poems fill a digital spiritual journal on my computer. Both connect me to the present and give me reflective material for the future.

Walking an hour a day has become an embodied prayer that I never skip, even when I am not feeling well! The Buddhist monk, Thict Naht Hahn, a friend of Thomas Merton, wrote about the importance of walking mindfully by opening the senses and noticing everything in nature. (His book, The Miracle of Mindfulness, is on my top ten list of most influential spiritual books.) I cherish my early morning and late afternoon strolls with my aging Golden Retriever, who slows me down so that I can take a long, loving look at the Real. Walks on the beach several times a week also fill me with wonder. On Monday mornings at 9:00 AM, I meet with friends on Beach Road for “Soul Walk,” an hour-long, silent prayer for world peace. Come join us!

On balance, the introspection of reading, writing, and mindful walking prompts me to create something tangible each day. Most passive spiritual practices need the concreteness of action, and great joy emanates from the process of creating something with my hands.  Whether it’s planting flowers, baking a cake, knitting a blanket, painting with watercolors, or simply rearranging my many-layered collections of home treasures, I feel most enlivened by the process of doing something creative. Giving away or sharing the product also enhances the experience!

How would you describe your practice in four words or less? Everyone is different with different needs, time constraints, and circumstances. The most important part of cultivating a spiritual practice is to actually practice. Whatever you do, I honor and bless your way. This summer, no matter what you decide, stay faithful, keep seeking.

Valentines and Ashes

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel 36:26

When life’s demands become too much, I take a walk on the beach. The waves ebb and flow, I breathe in the salty air, feel the warmth of the sun, and soon become mesmerized by the colorful palette of stones, pebbles, and boulders beneath my feet. Inevitably, I spot heart-shaped rocks hidden in plain sight. Big and small, some marked with stripes, some rough amalgamations, some resembling real flesh and blood, I call these “God’s Valentines.” I gather them up and lay them out on the sand like a boutique shopkeeper beckoning customers. Maybe oblivious beachcombers will stumble upon them in their meanderings and be uplifted! Stone hearts placed by a heart of flesh, in this case, from a stranger who cared.

Every year, right in the middle of February, we are invited to celebrate Valentine’s Day, unfortunately much hyped and commercial, focused on impossibly romantic declarations of love. Even so, I welcome the day as an invitation to express little acts kindness, especially to those who have long abandoned any possibility of romance. We all have such people in our lives–the elderly in nursing homes and hospitals; lonely shut-ins, the friends and relatives we rarely see; the list goes on.

Curiously this year, the Season of Lent begins on Valentine’s Day, much to the chagrin of those who plan to give up chocolate and alcohol. This may seem an incongruous juxtaposition of events to most, but in my mind, both days are all about love, which makes them more compatible than one might think. If we wean ourselves away from childish practices of austerity (like giving up candy) and graft ourselves onto the the tree of life (the cross), we may come to embrace a deeper understanding. Consider. for example, the historical roots of the season.

Lent was first observed as a forty-day retreat for catechumens (those who were preparing to be received into the Church on Easter). For sure, it was a time of scrutiny, a final purification of old destructive ways of living, but was also a time of excitement and joyful anticipation of personal redemption. Love of God, other people, of life, heightened and soared during Lent. If you have ever been on a life-altering retreat, multiply that bliss by a hundred! Having guided multitudes of seekers during Lent for over thirty years, I continually participated in and can personally witness to that unspeakable sea of joy. I always wished I could bottle and send it to everyone.

The Lenten season offers us a time for personal reflection and this year especially, I am alarmed that stony hearts seem to be the norm rather than the exception. The vilification on social media of anyone who steps out of line, says the wrong thing, or innocently makes an error of judgment has ramped up to an all time high. Even asking a question for clarification on the touchy subjects of politics and religion, for example, sets off a tirade of hateful comments across the cyber waves. Seems like true dialog, the art of civilized conversation, are dead in the water. Our stony hearts are getting stonier; we drastically need a new spirit to bring us compassionate hearts open to gentile listening again.

Since valentines and Lenten rituals entwine like grapevines in 2024, we are offered a unique opportunity to do something different, to make the six weeks of Lent a time to enlarge our hearts, to cultivate the art of living passionately and joyfully. Think about appreciating the smell of bonfires on the beach, the simplicity of solitary contemplative walks, finding surprises right underfoot; spending leisurely hours listening to music, having quality time with loved ones, becoming keenly aware of the river of atmospheric love flowing generously through the air we breathe.

Rather than giving up something for Lent, think about giving away something held dear, like the precious time it takes to hand write a letter, send a card, listen to a friend, make a delicious dinner, waste a whole day playing with children; or taking personal time for creative activities like journal writing, crafting, or exploring an art museum. Perhaps in doing so with intention, the Spirit and the Season of Lent can transform our stony hearts and make personal resurrection a real possibility when Easter rolls around. Valentines and ashes pave the way!