Peace

Finally the Lord said to me, You have wandered round these highlands long enough; turn and go north.
~Deuteronomy 2:2-3

Thank you for wandering these highlands with me over the past many days. It has been a pleasure to walk with you. 

You will still find me here, maybe a little less frequently, but here.

I am going to turn and go north for a bit. See where Spirit leads me. 

I look forward to more journeys together. 

Peace.

Joy!

Whatever is true,

whatever is honorable,
whatever is just,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely,
whatever is gracious...
Think on these things. ~Philippians 4:8

Happy and joyous Easter! Our Lenten journey has ended, and we find ourselves in the light of Easter morning. 

This journey began in the middle of the desert with a different kind of Ash Wednesday. As the sun breaks this Easter Day, new lessons of Resurrection shine through. 

What have you discovered from this time of reflection?
How will you be different because of what you have witnessed?
Are you ready to live the Resurrection in a different kind of world?

Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you...As the Father has sent me, so I send you." ~John 20:20–21

 Blessings and peace to you and your families! Enjoy this day!

A Garden Prayer

A garden is prepared for the Resurrection...

The tomb is sealed. The waiting begins. 

These hours are necessary. But necessary and easy are two very different things. Yet another time in our lives requiring patience. A virtue in thinning supply. 

So often in life we plant seeds...of ideas, efforts, and good intentions. With the dirt barely covering, we begin searching for an immediate and predictable harvest. 

So like the disciples are we. They followed a teacher and friend, but did not anticipate a Cross, a Death, and a burial.

Teach us Lord, as you did them, the lesson of the tomb. Help us to see that while we tend our seeds, we cannot control when or how the fruit of our efforts will grow. Show us again that patiently and lovingly tending the garden will make it, and us, ready for the Resurrection. 

adapted from The Stations of the Cross, Station 14, by Denise Hemrich-Skomer and Fr. Joachim Tyrtania 

In the Quiet

On a recent walk, I came upon a patch of native grassland. It's not a very large area. There's a small pond in the center. As I approached, I could hear the loud sounds of insects and what I believe to be frogs. The sound was so intense it overpowered my headphones. I eagerly moved ahead hoping to enjoy the calls of these creatures up close. 

But when I reached the edge of the preserve, the noises went from deafening to deadly silent in an instant. The difference was shocking. I thought I had imagined the whole thing. Then it occurred to me that the creatures stopped because they sensed my presence. I stayed for a moment, in solidarity with their quiet, and then moved on. Just a few steps out of their way, their chorus resumed.

Today is Good Friday. I meditate on the moments surrounding Jesus' Death. In the time before, I can almost hear the chaos. Sounds of brutality, terror, pain, and sorrow. Crowd noise, soldiers, mourners, victims. And then, the shocking final moment...Jesus' Death. In the seconds after, quiet stillness. I imagine breath held, disbelief. A finality anticipated but a reality unexpected nonetheless. 

It is in this moment of silence that we find ourselves now.

In a few short hours, life will move on. The chorus will resume. 

But for this brief time, we stand in solidarity, together...in the quiet.

He Loved

Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end. ~John 13:1

These words begin John's telling of the Last Supper. In full knowledge of his impending death, Jesus loved. He loved his own. 

Jesus' disciples were a band of average people with faults and doubts, needs and egos. The Gospel stories tell of their fears, misunderstandings, mistakes, and in the end, betrayals and denial. Yet still, he loved them to the end. 

This speaks to me in two ways. 

How do we love our own? Do we focus on the things that bother us? Do we allow judgment and expectation to cloud our interactions? 

We don't know when our hour will come. If the past year has taught us anything, it's that life is precious and fleeting. Perhaps these words serve as a gentle reminder to view our own in this world through the lens of love. 

I'd also like to think that we are part of this intention. Jesus loves us, his own, to the end. Not in spite of our faults, but because of them. We, like the disciples, are flawed. At times we struggle, we fail, we deny, we betray, but we keep trying. With faith, in hope, we start over each day with new opportunities to be our best in this world.

So on this Holy Thursday, take a moment to center yourself in love.

Love your own and know you are loved...to the end.