conversatioblog

2004-12-23T09:41:00.000-06:00

humble nativity

Humility in the Manger

2004-12-23T09:35:00.000-06:00

A humble man can do great things with an uncommon perfection because he is no longer concerned about incidentals, like his own interests and his own reputation, and therefore he no longer needs to waste his efforts in defending them.

For a humble man is not afraid of failure. In fact, he is not afraid of anything, even of himself, since perfect humility implies perfect confidence in the power of God, before Whom no other power has any meaning and for whom there is no such thing as an obstacle.

Humility is the surest sign of strength.

Thomas Merton, Humility Against Despair, in New Seeds of Contemplation

2004-12-12T23:41:00.000-06:00

sammy sad by ks

Humility in Pain

2004-12-12T23:35:00.000-06:00

My posts have been less frequent lately, because I’ve not been feeling so well. The migraines have been ratcheting up and not completely subsiding in between, leaving me with significant pain every day. I hate not posting regularly. It’s a discipline I have come to treasure. But in this Advent, I have continued to meditate on humility, even in my time off-line.

Pain is a great teacher of humility, and chronic pain is a live-in tutor. It has a way of grinding down my illusions about myself. In periods when I have felt relatively well, I have considered myself to be patient, attractive, and generous. When I am in significant pain for a long period of time, my illusions of personality wear down like the seat of my old jeans, to something threadbare and embarrassingly transparent. I begin show those parts of myself that are impatient, querulous, and selfish. It feels like lifting a hundred pounds with one arm, to reach out to other people when that pain, even if it’s not excruciating, eats at me day after day.

When pain causes me to see myself that way, it scares me, too. I don’t like the truth. I often don’t like myself. Often I’ll withdraw from others. I’m afraid I’ll snap at them, or that they’ll see the unattractive, unfriendly, grouchy me and not like me, either. The isolation just makes me more miserable. The tension builds, and so does the pain. I pray, but even powerful, effective prayer is no quick fix. Waiting on the Lord is hard.

Yes, it’s all very humbling.

That’s the difficult, but very good news about pain. Because it humbles me, it brings me “down to earth.” And earth is where God is with us, in His blessed incarnation. Once reserved in His heaven, God has joined me, and you, here in our painful, earthly states. So the more we are humbled, whether by pain or grief or poverty, the more He joins us in the flesh, on this earth.

Maybe for some people that is an abstraction, but for me nothing could be more genuine because pain is real. It breaks my body and almost breaks my heart. I couldn’t face another day or long night bearing it--not without a down-to-earth Savior who was born into pain and died through it into eternal life. Not without a Savior who promised to be with us always.

Because even more than misery does, humility loves His company.

2004-12-10T11:57:00.000-06:00

Jesus by raichinger

Humility, the Third Degree

2004-12-10T11:52:00.000-06:00

“The third degree of humility is that a person
for love of God
submit himself to his Superior in all obedience,
imitating the Lord, of whom the Apostle says,
‘He became obedient even unto death.’”

Rule of Benedict, Chapter Seven, On Humility
St. Benedict

“Christ: ‘I have often told you, and I repeat it again;
forsake yourself and renounce yourself,
and you shall enjoy great interior peace.
Give all for all; seek nothing;
take nothing back that you have given up;
stand with pure detachment and with full confidence in Me,
and then you shall truly possess Me.

Then you shall enjoy true freedom of heart
and darkness shall not overcome you.
Aim at that alone.
Pray for it, desire it, that you may be divested of all self-seeking;
and so, spiritually naked, follow the naked Jesus.
Thus you will die to yourself and live forever to and for me.’”

The Imitation of Christ, Chapter 37, Thomas à Kempis

2004-12-06T18:36:00.000-06:00

baby Jesus

The Kingdom of the Child

2004-12-06T18:24:00.000-06:00

Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; The calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them.
The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest; the lion shall eat hay like the ox.
The baby shall play by the cobra's den, and the child lay his hand on the adder's lair.
There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.

Isaiah 11:6-9

"During this hour, I tried to meditate on the Lord's Passion. But my soul was filled with joy, and suddenly I saw the Child Jesus. But His majesty penetrated me to such an extent that I said, 'Jesus, You are so little, and yet I know that you are my Creator and Lord.' And Jesus answered me, 'I am and I keep company with you as a child to teach you humility and simplicity.' (184) Divine Mercy Diary, Sister Faustina

2004-12-04T10:51:00.000-06:00

Mary

A Rare Virtue for Advent

2004-12-04T10:23:00.000-06:00

Of all the virtues to contemplate, I feel that I have been called to humility this Advent, both personally and as a topic for my blog. It's a slippery one, too, and so dreadfully out of fashion in our culture. Short of an accidental play of that bad '70s tune, "Lord, it's hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way," on a rare oldies or country station, the virtue of humility gets "virtually" no billing whatsoever today in our pop culture.

People still like to talk about random acts of kindness, the value of charity, the power of philanthropy, and even the potential for holiness. But what about humility?

Even as I try to write about humility, something in me wants to rant about its antithesis, pride. Pride is far more glamorous. I can think of many more examples. As they say, "Don't get me started." But humility, well, that's harder. Harder to find and harder to live.

The Rule of Benedict has extensive direction about humility, so I began there. But other saints have much to say about it, too. Of course, my heart is drawn to Our Lady, the humble receiver of the Word, as a model for my faith in this Advent journey to the stable, the most humble of birthing beds.

Of all the virtues, humility is my vocation this season. If it is yours, you are welcome to walk with me. I warn you, it's a lonely, lowly walk, and not well-lit. There are many distractions. We'll be tempted to judge and preen and gossip and shop for bargains and brag and rant about all manner of societal ills, I'll wager, because the Evil One won't like us thinking small and lowly thoughts about ourselves. But we'll pray to the little Child Jesus in the manger, and ask our Blessed Mother to pray for us, too.

"Then I saw myself ... together with the Mother of God....She was so peaceful and so united to the will of God...When I was left alone with the Blessed Virgin, She instructed me concerning the interior life. The soul's true greatness is in loving God and in humbling oneself in His presence, completely forgetting oneself and believing oneself to be nothing; because the Lord is great, but He is well-pleased only with the humble; He always opposes the proud." (1710-11) Divine Mercy Diary, Sister Faustina

2004-12-03T23:21:00.000-06:00

fire in the sky by jeanildert

A Humble Heart Rises

2004-12-03T23:18:00.000-06:00

O how beautiful is a humble soul! From her heart, as from a censer, rises a varied and most pleasing fragrance which breaks through the skies and reaches God himself, filling His Most Sacred Heart with joy. God refuses nothing to such a soul; she is all powerful and influences the destiny of the whole world... (1306)

Divine Mercy Diary
Sr. Faustina

2004-12-02T17:04:00.000-06:00

Bible reading by ProLife

Humility, Step Two

2004-12-02T16:59:00.000-06:00

The second degree of humility
is that a person love not his own will
nor take pleasure in satisfying his desires,
but model his actions on the saying of the Lord,
"I have come not to do My own will,
but the will of Him who sent Me" (John 6:38).
It is written also,
"Self-will has its punishment,
but constraint wins a crown."

Rule of Benedict, Chapter 7, On Humility
St. Benedict

2004-12-01T16:48:00.000-06:00

are you there God? by criswatk

2004-12-01T16:36:00.000-06:00

Let a man consider
that God is always looking at him from heaven,
that his actions are everywhere visible to the divine eyes
and are constantly being reported to God by the Angels.
This is what the Prophet shows us
when he represents God as ever present within our thoughts,
in the words "Searcher of minds and hearts is God" (Ps. 7:10)
and again in the words "The Lord knows the thoughts of men" (Ps. 93:11).
Again he says,"You have read my thoughts from afar" (Ps. 138:3)
and "The thoughts of people will confess to You" (Ps. 75:11).
In order that he may be careful
about his wrongful thoughts, therefore,
let the faithful brother say constantly in his heart,
"Then shall I be spotless before Him,
if I have kept myself from my iniquity" (Ps. 17:24).

Rule of Benedict, Chapter 7, On Humility
St. Benedict

2004-11-30T18:43:00.000-06:00

prisoner by johnpring

How We Begin

2004-11-30T18:08:00.000-06:00

The first degree of humility, then,
is that a person keep the fear of God before his eyes
and beware of ever forgetting it.
Let him be ever mindful of all that God has commanded;
let his thoughts constantly recur
to the hell-fire which will burn for their sins
those who despise God,
and to the life everlasting which is prepared
for those who fear Him.
Let him keep himself at every moment from sins and vices,
whether of the mind, the tongue, the hands, the feet,
or the self-will,
and check also the desires of the flesh.

Rule of Benedict, On Humility
St. Benedict

2004-11-29T22:56:00.000-06:00

endless climb by markopolis

Humility and Discipline

2004-11-29T22:47:00.000-06:00

Hence, brethren,
if we wish to reach the very highest point of humility
and to arrive speedily at that heavenly exaltation
to which ascent is made through the humility of this present life,
we must
by our ascending actions
erect the ladder Jacob saw in his dream,
on which Angels appeared to him descending and ascending.
By that descent and ascent
we must surely understand nothing else than this,
that we descend by self-exaltation and ascend by humility.
And the ladder thus set up is our life in the world,
which the Lord raises up to heaven if our heart is humbled.
For we call our body and soul the sides of the ladder,
and into these sides our divine vocation has inserted
the different steps of humility and discipline we must climb.

Rule of Benedict Chapter 7, On Humility
St. Benedict

2004-11-27T22:00:00.000-06:00

Sunset2 by bluerock

Considering Darkness and Light

2004-11-27T21:55:00.001-06:00

Death and Family Life

I’ve posted a few emblems lately, but I’m back here in “voice” today.

The last week + was either one for the record books, or one to blot from my memory forever. Except that I know I’ll never forget it. As a maturing adult, I also know that I shouldn’t let myself forget a single moment of it, no matter how painful.

A brief, uncomfortable recap. My father, from whom I was unwillingly estranged, tragically fell asleep at the wheel of his car while driving near Elko, Nevada on Tuesday just over a week ago. His car flew off the road and he was killed instantly. Strangely, this was all witnessed by a State Trooper who was driving right behind him. Given the surrounding terrain, it seems implied that it might have been some time before the accident had been discovered, had there not been an eyewitness. There were disturbing and inconsequential details which I will omit here. They are the kinds of things that people can’t seem to restrain themselves from telling you, and that you will never forget. Keep that in mind if you ever have to bear bad news. Keep It Simple Stupid.

So I live with the irony of knowing more about my father’s split-second death than I know of his life during the past ten years. As I implied in previous blog entries, I had tried to reconcile with my father, but he had not received me. It’s a sad thing, but in the last week and a half, I have been comforted beyond measure by bloggers, strangers, friends and family. Perhaps most profoundly, I have been reassured by a sense of a very near, very real heavenly father who understands and loves both me and the man who forgot how to call me daughter. I have been reminded that in heaven, there is grace enough to cover misunderstandings. There is true reconciliation there.

2004-11-27T21:55:00.000-06:00

a father's love

2004-11-27T21:43:00.000-06:00

pumpkins

2004-11-27T21:41:00.001-06:00

My beloved, so talented and generous in so many ways, also turns out to be a phenomenal cook. What can the man NOT do? (Get tired of me, apparently). He grilled the turkey outdoors, made an amazing stuffing with homegrown German herbs and whipped up mashed potatoes with cream cheese, garlic and chives. There was also the essential, delicious green bean casserole. I made my best offering of scalloped corn, sweet potatoes with cream, butter, brown sugar and pecans, as well as the apple and cranberry relish. There were pumpkin, pecan and sour cream raisin pies. My beloved set the table and served up champagne.

2004-11-27T21:41:00.000-06:00

champagne

2004-11-27T21:40:00.000-06:00

champagne and cranberries

2004-11-27T21:38:00.000-06:00

In attendance were my dear mother and stepdad, my daughter and her husband and my true love, the next Emeril.

2004-11-27T21:37:00.000-06:00

Emeril

2004-11-27T21:35:00.000-06:00

Note: My beloved is similarly dark-haired, but better-looking. Sorry, Emeril. My dear one also doesn’t answer his shoe when the phone rings, a promising sign for our future together.

And oh, yes, there was also grateful, grateful me.

We prayed and ate and laughed and watched movies and played games together.

2004-11-27T21:33:00.000-06:00

monopoly

2004-11-27T21:31:00.000-06:00

Several times, I got to put my arms around my mother, then my daughter. I was an intergenerational love-sandwich. We called my son in New York and told him we loved him. We told and retold and embellished stories. What bliss.

How could I ask for more? How could I be more thankful? I really couldn’t.

So you see? Even with the loss, all is well in my little world. Anything in this missal that at first sounded like a complaint is really just setting of context, laying in of background. Because just as I set down the dark tones in my paintings before I cast in the brights, the depth in my life can only be seen the same way. The somber and sad things are truly present. They don’t disappear by my wishing and sometimes they make me cry. Sometimes I feel apprehensive about whether they will take over the entire picture. But God in his infinite goodness casts brilliant blessings through my life like light and oh, oh the color and the depth. See how he does it, in nature and in life?

2004-11-27T21:28:00.000-06:00

sunset3bybluerock

2004-11-27T21:25:00.000-06:00

I am truly blessed.

On Light and Darkness

2004-11-27T14:50:00.000-06:00

Light and Darkness

I’ve posted a few emblems lately, but I’m back here in “voice” today.

The last week + was either one for the record books, or one to blot from my memory forever. Except that I know I’ll never forget it. Being a maturing adult, I also know that I shouldn’t let myself forget a single moment of it, no matter how painful.

A brief, uncomfortable recap. My father, from whom I was unwillingly estranged, tragically fell asleep at the wheel of his car while driving near Elko, Nevada on Tuesday just over a week ago. His car flew off the road and he was killed instantly. Strangely, this was all witnessed by a State Trooper who was driving right behind him. Given the surrounding terrain, it seems implied that it might have been some time before the accident had been discovered, had there not been an eyewitness. There were disturbing and inconsequential details which I will omit here. They are the kinds of things that people can’t seem to restrain themselves from telling you, and that you will never forget. Keep that in mind if you ever have to bear bad news. Keep It Simple Stupid.

So I live with the irony of knowing more about my father’s split-second death than I know of his life during the past ten years. As I implied in previous blog entries, I had tried to reconcile with my father, but he had not received me. It’s a sad thing, but in the last week and a half, I have been comforted beyond measure by bloggers, strangers, friends and family. Perhaps most profoundly, I have been reassured by a sense of a very near, very real heavenly father who understands and loves both me and the man who forgot how to call me daughter. I have been reminded that in heaven, there is grace enough to cover misunderstandings. There is true reconciliation there.

2004-11-24T12:35:00.000-06:00

praying by eyeboz

What to say?

2004-11-24T12:15:00.000-06:00

One Prayer

"If the only prayer you say in your entire life is 'thank you,' that would suffice."

Meister Eckhart

2004-11-23T17:50:00.000-06:00

hiding by faerietail

Hide and Seek

2004-11-23T17:00:00.000-06:00

"God is like a person who clears his throat while hiding and so gives himself away. God lies in wait for us with nothing so much as love."

Meister Eckhart

2004-11-22T17:05:00.000-06:00

cross by vnhsnh

Stay

2004-11-22T16:59:00.000-06:00

A Holy Resolve

Believe me; make a holy and firm resolve never voluntarily to withdraw yourself from God's grace from this time on.

Live the rest of your days in God's holy presence, even if He judges it fitting to deprive you of all consolations of Heaven and earth for the sake of His love.

Brother Lawrence
The Practice of the Presence of God

2004-11-19T11:29:00.000-06:00

by EnigmaZ

With gratitude for your prayers

2004-11-19T11:23:00.000-06:00

Hope from the family of God

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.

Psalm 94:19

2004-11-17T14:25:00.000-06:00

Daddy and me

A Father's Blessing, Withheld

2004-11-17T13:51:00.000-06:00

Now that He's Gone

Last night I received a phone call, the one that you pray to God you never receive.
My father was killed in a car accident.

Caught In a dramatic relationship that could only be paralleled in King Lear, my father and I were estranged. I had tried, simply and sincerely, numerous times over the last ten years to build a bridge. He was beyond my reach. It seemed that of the children, I, his firstborn, was the one he could live without.

To touch his heart, I had even sent him a photo of him and me, one that I thought would rend his heartstrings and make him call me. In the picture, I was two or three years old and he was a mere twenty-five. It didn't rend anything except my heart, that he could look at that image of him and me and look away.

So now he's dead and there's no chance for reconciliation in this lifetime. I had tried to prepare myself that this could happen, that only in heaven would we find understanding. But now it's final and that brings a grief that is deeper than black. I have to keep reminding myself that his silence isn't something I can read with certainty--maybe there was love there, after all, and maybe some intent to reconcile, someday. Maybe.

It's a good thing that I believe in eternity, and in God's mercy, and in miracles, and in life forever. Otherwise this would be absolutely unbearable.

A father's love, the touch of his hand on your head in blessing, is a potent thing. Bestowed, it can bring life and blessing. Withheld, it has the power to destroy.

It's no wonder that Goneril and Regan lied so ornately to their father Lear, and that Jacob put on goatskins to steal Isaac's love from Esau.

Fathers, take note. Give life. Give love. Bless each daughter and son today.

Not tomorrow. Today.

"What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent." King Lear Act I, Scene I, 62

2004-11-16T23:47:00.000-06:00

by jwarletta

A Psalm of Mourning for a Forgotten Daughter

2004-11-16T23:15:00.000-06:00

God Sends Your Consolation

Listen, O daughter, consider and give ear: Forget your people and your father's house.
The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord.

Psalm 45: 10-11

2004-11-16T00:15:00.000-06:00

iron in fire by isotonic

Fire and Iron

2004-11-16T00:05:00.000-06:00

"If fire and iron could reason and if the iron said to the fire: 'Draw me,' that would prove its wish to be so identified with the fire as to share its very substance. Well, that is just what my prayer is. I ask Jesus to draw me into the flames of his love and to unite me so closely to Him that he lives and acts in me. I feel that the more the fire of love encompasses my heart, the more I shall say: 'Draw me,' and the more will those souls who are near to mine 'run swiftly in the sweet odour of the Beloved.'

Yes, they will run and we shall run together, for souls on fire cannot stay still."

St. Therese of Lisieux
The Story of a Soul

2004-11-15T11:23:00.000-06:00

pain by girl

Pain

2004-11-15T10:39:00.000-06:00

When it Seems Beyond Purpose

On the first of this month, there appeared in the national news a story about a little girl who could feel no pain. (Ashlyn Blocker) Not to be envied, this little girl lacks the essential chemical that communicates pain sensation throughout her nervous system. She must be sheltered in an extraordinary way, and lives on the edge of disaster simply because she cannot feel the important warnings that pain provides.

Much was said about this at the time, about how we should be thankful for pain, etc. Pain is essential, the way our body tells us that something is wrong. Without pain, we can't protect ourselves. True, to a point. But it must also be said that sometimes pain seems to be an entity without, or beyond, any physical purpose.

I tried to balance all of this in my mind as I was in my second week of a slowly ratcheting migraine. By Saturday and Sunday, the pain had become so intense that I was back in that dark place, away from lights and people and the whole world. It is a place that only migraineurs understand. There have been times when the migraines have taken over, and I have suffered periods of short-term disability. Once I had a headache that lasted for four months without any relief--without a single hour of relief. In my heart of hearts, I live with the fear that the pain could come to stay, and never leave. This kind of pain doesn't seem like a friend or spiritual ally.

There are other kinds of pain, as well. One of my family members lives with chronic pain. Every day, she has to take pain pills for a debilitating condition for which there is no hope of recovery. It won't kill her, but only portends to cause her great pain for the rest of her life. Sometimes the pain pills help, sometimes they don't. She is a valiant soldier in faith, clinging to God and facing each day with whatever courage she can muster. I admire her more than I can say. Only God knows what purpose this pain serves.

Another person I knew suffered from such terrible depression that it couldn't be relieved by antidepressants, therapy or any earthly remedy. Now all I have left is to pray for her after her death. What purpose did her psychological pain serve?

So that's the darker side of pain. There are things that we don't understand. We like to think that science has all of the answers--that even pain can be explained. The truth is though, that in the darkest of nights, when we are alone with our pain, we have nowhere to turn but to our merciful Father. Only He can hold us close and soothe us, not with an explanation--He doesn't owe us that--but with love that surpasses pain.

This love is evident in prayer. In Scripture, we are instructed to pray for the sick. We need to do more of this for one another, I believe. There is nothing so comforting as the arms of a dear friend around you, pleading for God's mercy in your pain. If you are suffering, have the humility to ask a friend or family member to pray for you, to enter with you into God's presence. Remember, too, that the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick is not reserved for the dying, but for the living who need to feel the nearness of Gods' love.

By the grace of God I can stand as a witness to this love. There are times when the pain is so bad that I can't see beyond it, with my eyes or with my spirit. But God does not abandon the heart that calls His name. It is a mystery that I cannot explain, but only proclaim to others who are reaching out into the darkness. Call on Him, for He is faithful.

He is faithful.

2004-11-12T09:14:00.000-06:00

hook by gringito

The Fishhook

2004-11-12T09:11:00.000-06:00

"Now love is like a fishhook. A fisher cannot catch a fish unless the fish first picks up the hook. If the fish swallows the hook, no matter how it may squirm and turn, the fisher is certain of the fish. Love is the same way. Whoever is captured by love takes up this hook in such a fashion that foot and hand, mouth and eyes, heart and all that is in that person must always belong to God.

Therefore, look only for this fishhook, and you will be happily caught. The more you are caught, the more you will be liberated."

Meister Eckhart

2004-11-11T00:14:00.000-06:00

crowd by livinus

It is Among You

2004-11-11T00:09:00.000-06:00

Asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he (Jesus) said in reply,
"The coming of the kingdom of God cannot be observed, and no one will announce, 'Look, here it is,' or, 'There it is.' For behold, the kingdom of God is among you."

Luke Chapter 17

2004-11-10T14:14:00.000-06:00

swim by milca

Bath of Rebirth

2004-11-10T10:59:00.000-06:00

For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, deluded, slaves to various desires and
pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful ourselves and hating one another.
But when the kindness and generous love of God our savior appeared,
not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy,
he saved us
through the bath of rebirth and renewal by the holy Spirit,
whom he richly poured out on us through Jesus Christ our savior,
so that we might be justified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal life.

Titus Chapter 3

2004-11-09T11:14:00.000-06:00

jefras at sxc.hu

An Invisible Ocean

2004-11-09T11:00:00.000-06:00

"But let me tell you this: faith comes and goes. It rises and falls like the tides of an invisible ocean.. If it is presumptuous to think that faith will stay with you forever, it is just as presumptuous to think that unbelief will. Leaving the Church is not the solution, but since you think it is, all I can suggest to you...is that if you find in yourself the least return of a desire for faith, to go back to the Church with a light heart and without the conscience-raking to which you are probably subject. Subtlety is the curse of man. It is not found in the deity."

Flannery O'Connor
The Habit of Being

Aurora Borealis

2004-11-08T16:10:00.000-06:00

Noticing What's Barely There

Last night my beloved and I were driving back from having supper with friends, when we noticed faint rays of light stretching across the Iowa sky, from the North. It was probably about nine o'clock, and too late for any sunset, but there wasn't any moonlight, either. The pale, white rays seemed to undulate slightly, and toward the West, they even had a little reddish glow to them, dancing with the yellow-white.

It didn't take us too long to realize that we were glimpsing something special, the aurora borealis, or Northern Lights. I'd seen bits of them before, on midwinter nights, but never had I seen half the sky traced out with them like a filmy curtain that way. We drove out on a country road, away from the lights of towns, to get a better view.

It was cold, and so we didn't stand outside the car for long, but for a while we just stood there praising God for the pulsing, slowly shifting waves of magnet-light. In some places, the rays grew like towers; in others, it was softer, like feathers. Today, it makes me think about the Psalm referring to the "shadow of God's wings." Wow, we kept saying. Thanks be to God! We were in wonder, at how great it was, and yet, how easily we could have missed it, if we had let the dashboard lights of the car absorb us, as we drove.

Such subtle beauty, and so unexpected. God just can't get over loving us, you know? His abundant grace is subtle, yet beyond imagining. No matter what we do, no matter how we mess up, He insists on giving us His best. We don't deserve it. "Look at this," He says. "I came up with something amazing for you today...it's my best, it's from my heart and it's especially for you. I'm hoping that you notice the love...that maybe you'll even notice me."

Thanks, God, for unexpected waves of light, and unexpected waves of love.

2004-11-08T10:52:00.000-06:00

overworked by donners

Consolation

2004-11-08T09:59:00.000-06:00

In the midst of your work console yourself with Him as often as you can.

Ask Him for His grace and offer Him your heart from time to time during the day...at every moment if you are able.

Offer Him your heart in faith, with love and humility.

Brother Lawrence
Selections from Letter IV, The Practice of the Presence of God

2004-11-07T18:27:00.000-06:00

Isatori wing

Almighty Wings

2004-11-07T09:07:00.000-06:00

Psalms 17
I call upon you; answer me, O God. Turn your ear to me; hear my prayer.
Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings

2004-11-06T11:18:00.000-06:00

Mother by tiion

Like A Nursing Child

2004-11-06T11:10:00.000-06:00

"My most normal habit is to simply keep my attention on God, and to be generally and lovingly aware of him. I often feel myself attached to God with sweetness and satisfaction greater than that experienced by a nursing child. Therefore, if I dared to use this term, I would willingly call this state being nursed by God, for the inexpressible sweetness which I taste and experience there."

Brother Lawrence
The Practice of the Presence of God

Emblem Books and Internet Lectio

2004-11-06T10:11:00.000-06:00

Cultivating a Devotional Mind and Heart, through Words and Images

While an English graduate student at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, I had the opportunity to study under a wonderful professor, Dr. Les Whipp. He introduced me to emblem books, an art/literature form popular in the 16th century.

For the people of that time, emblem books were a way to read the world into their hearts. An image (usually a woodcut or engraving), a title and a poem or verse formed a triad of moral and spiritual meaning for the reader. (For more information on emblems and emblem books, here is a place to begin:)

Glasgow University Emblem Website

Remembering my research on emblems (which was far more tedious in the pre-internet days) gave me an idea for how to support lectio in my own distracted life, and on this blog for any interested readers. At least for a while, given feedback, I'm going to offer a daily lectio emblem. It will consist of a visual image, a caption for the image, and a brief "word" of scripture or devotional reading. Why the visual component? For the same reason that the medieval emblem writers/artists included it--our hearts ponder what we see in light of the words, creating a devotional dynamic.

So I float it out there, for myself and for you. May God bless our quiet efforts to make room for Him in our hearts.

2004-11-04T23:37:00.000-06:00

"Morning Paper" by Cris Watk at stock.xchng stock photos

Lectio Divina in the Life of a Trained Speed Reader

2004-11-04T16:52:00.000-06:00

Or, How Do I Learn to Slow Down?

When I was in sixth grade, in addition to the filmstrip and movie projector machines (yes, this was in the pre-VCR and DVD days), my well-meaning teacher introduced us students to an amazing new machine for the benefit of our learning. Like a filmstrip projector, it projected an image up on the white, pull-down screen at the front of the classroom. But instead of a full-screen image of words or pictures, it portrayed only one line of text at a time. Depending on the speed selected by the machine operator, it puttered along or rapid-fired selections for us to read. I even recall the strange sound the machine made, something between a swoosh and the slide a coin makes landing into a cola vending machine slot.

Line by line, the machine pushed us as a group to read faster. We started slowly, but insidiously the lines accelerated, until we barely had time to grasp one whole line before it disappeared and another appeared to take its place. Speed was the only goal. We were pushed to gobble hundreds of words per minute, then only briefly tested for comprehension.

It was a strange sort of contest. Groans of despair were common as portions of sentences and meanings slipped away from first this child, then that one, at their desks. Those children who ingested and retained the most words per minute were rewarded. Those who hesitated or pondered meaning were left behind and felt themselves not so intelligent. It was a race where only speed mattered.

So I became a speed reader, a race horse on a road of words. Imagine my difficulty, then, with lectio divina, the Benedictine practice of prayerful private reading. Lectio isn't complicated, it's just challenging because it's so very simple. My mind always wants to make it something it isn't, or to dash off and do the next thing. It's like an addiction, this need to read ahead. Lectio involves stillness, waiting, and a willingness not to move on to the next thing until every meaning has been distilled from the now. In that sense it is an amazing challenge and remedy for the ingrained restlessness of our spirits. It is a tonic for our overeager minds. Lectio also makes us aware of our status and stature as supplicants; we can only ask and wait for God to reveal meaning to us in this manner of reading--it is not in our control.

Benedictines of experience and wisdom have led me in learning lectio, but it is a lifetime practice. Rather than try to instruct you myself, I would rather direct you to someone with more experience to guide you, if you are interested in learning.

How to Practice Lectio Divina

So once again, the Benedictine way is an invitation to deeper prayer and something more challenging than what our speed-of-light information culture offers us. Will I accept that invitation? Will you?

2004-11-01T11:43:00.000-06:00

Thomas Merton

On Being a Saint, and Being Yourself

2004-11-01T11:27:00.000-06:00

On All Saints’ Day, I find it especially delightful to be Catholic. There are so many saints to explore and enjoy. Being Protestant, at least in terms of awareness of the Saints, was like being in a very small family with few relatives to know or visit, even on holidays.

When I became Catholic, it was like waking up one morning in a very noisy household with many people using the bathroom and watching television and eating pancakes and scrambled eggs in the kitchen. Not all of those Saints are perfect or pleasant, but they all love me and encourage me as I’m growing up.

I was especially delighted to find the ones who were reputed to have faults, such as St. Jerome with his reportedly often nasty disposition. I imagine him as the very smart but very grouchy uncle in the recliner who is always watching the Discovery Channel and won’t share the remote control. He gives me hope for sanctity, especially when I consider the prospect of erratic premenopausal mood swings.

Father Thomas Merton, although not beatified (as far as I know), is a deep soul who had a great deal to do with my entering the Church. He was the first Catholic writer, other than Flannery O’Connor, who made me sit up and consider to what it meant to be Catholic, and what it might mean to be a saint.

In honor of All Saints Day, I am going to quote a substantial portion from Thomas Merton’s New Seeds of Contemplation essay, Integrity.

“Many poets are not poets for the same reason that many religious men are not saints; they never succeed in being themselves. They never get around to being the particular poet or the particular monk they are intended to be by God. They never become the man or the artist who is called for by all the circumstances of their individual lives.

They waste their years in vain efforts to be some other poet, some other saint. For many absurd reasons, they are convinced that they are obliged to become somebody else who died two hundred years ago and who lived in circumstances utterly alien to their own.

They wear out their minds and bodies in a hopeless endeavor to have somebody else’s experiences or write somebody else’s poems or possess somebody else’s spirituality.

There can be an intense egoism in following everybody else. People are in a hurry to magnify themselves by imitating what is popular—and too lazy to think of anything better.

Hurry ruins saints as well as artists. They want quick success and they are in such haste to get it that they cannot take time to be true to themselves. And when the madness is upon them they argue that their very haste is a species of integrity.

In great saints you find that perfect humility and perfect integrity coincide. The two turn out to be practically the same thing. The saint is unlike everybody else precisely because he is humble.”

Isn’t it interesting that All Saints’ Day is the morning after Halloween? The morning after so many people festively don masks and diverse identities to disguise themselves, we celebrate those amazing Christian people who somehow managed to be, above all, most fully themselves—the saints whom God intended them to be. From St. Benedict to St. Jerome to St. Therese, it is true that none of the saints imitated anyone but Christ. Each was most humbly, most fully himself or herself, before God. This is their sanctity, a gift of fullness from God’s own hand.

May God bless us so, on this All Saints’ Day, and every day.

An Answer About Me

2004-10-31T01:40:00.000-06:00

Someone kindly asked if I am a layperson or a religious in the Catholic Church. I am a layperson, a convert who entered the Church just four years ago from Protestantism. However, it's no exaggeration to say that God led me to the Church via a monastery road.

I have been carefully nurtured by many Catholic priests and religious along my road of conversatio...here are a few.

Sister Mary, who is one of the most loving, honest and supportive souls I have ever met, who carries healing in her touch and in her words.

Father Denny, who was my spiritual director and led me through conversion to Catholicism.

Father John, who taught me about Benedictine monasticism and chant.

Father Frederic, who welcomed me as an oblate, while I was yet a Protestant.

Brother Jerome, who first taught me about lectio.

The many monks at Monastery of Christ in the Desert, who, by their hospitality and example, nurtured me in the prayer of desert solitude.

I thank and love each one, for they have helped to form my laywoman's heart to be ardent in prayer.

The Waterfall Photo

2004-10-29T16:32:00.000-05:00

The photo posted below really is great, isn't it? I can't take any credit for it at all, but have posted credit to the photographer in its title, and you can visit him at his website for more great images.

BenedictaJoy

2004-10-29T13:08:00.000-05:00

Trying Not to Fall from jdhodges.com

Falling Down, Again and Again

2004-10-29T11:30:00.000-05:00

What Benedictines Do

In considering my last post, it occurs that there may be hope for me yet, even if I don't immediately find my Rule of Benedict. To be persistent in prayer and life is, as I recall one of my monk friends telling me, the heart of Benedictine life.

Not knowing much about monastics, I asked him what monks do all day. He sighed, and I realized that monks are asked this question all too often. Instead of giving me the long answer about their prayer schedule, or the short answer, telling me that they eat, sleep and do what other people do, which is also true, he grasped a teachable moment. Fortunately for him and for me, there is an ancient monastic proverb that provided a wonderful answer to my hackneyed question.

"We fall down and get up, fall down and get up," he told me.

Remember babyhood? Vaguely? I don't remember much, but I have a vague sense of that "thud" of falling down. That whomping sound of diaper on linoleum, or the bonking sensation of my hands or head on the ground. Sure, I cried a little, but it didn't bother me a lot. It seemed like part of the program, part of learning to walk or run.

I do remember that the older I got, the more it bothered me. Falling off my bike. Slipping off a curb and dropping my schoolbooks. Now, falling down is an awful experience, especially in public. Not only does it jar my bones and rattle my teeth, I'm mortified to think that people have seen me in an extremely ungraceful moment. I'm so self-conscious that, halfway to the ground, I'm already taking a mental inventory of who's in the room, what perspective he or she has of my backside, and thinking how I wish I'd never been born so clumsy. Then there are those other mistakes that I make, those sinful "falls" that people see. I hate those, too. Sometimes it's easier to just walk on and pretend they didn't happen, easier not to apologize or acknowledge that I was out of line.

Too bad falling, which used to be such a learning experience, became such a trauma. Of course, it is farther to the ground, now. Gravity hurts. Being human is painful. But most of all, I think it's the social pressure and the laughter and my own pride that make falling so hard.

My Benedictine, monastic friends reminded me that falling down isn't just for babies. It's for all of us. They remind me, even now in soft voices in my head, that it's not the Fall that finalizes and defines us, but the Rising and walking again. So I keep praying for the grace to grin at myself, wave at my admirers, wipe the leaves off my backside, get up and try again. Again and again.

Now that's good Benedictine stuff.

Conversatio Light by Light

2004-10-27T10:23:00.000-05:00

Another Ordinary Day in Exile

It's Wednesday morning and I'm realizing what a sorry excuse for a Benedictine I've become. I've looked in that flowered cardboard box under the bed, on the cherrywood bookshelf, in the not-so-neat bedside drawer, and I can't put hands on my soft-cover, red Rule of Benedict. I thought it was right...there. Didn't I just have it just a few...months ago?

Fortunately, I recently unpacked some of my devotional books, and although I haven't read them in (well, we don't really have to say how long, do we?), the covers still look familar. So it's come to this, a kind of public confession. I'm not only a Benedictine in exile, but once again I've wandered away from the disciplines that once comforted and formed and convicted me. Daily. Hourly. Not that I was ever a strict sort of person. But I had a framework of prayer and devotion in my life.

What happened? Ordinary stuff wore me down. Grad school and migraines. Marital problems and moving. Hospitalizations and a divorce. Trying to graduate and find a job. The horror of middle age dating. I didn't lose myself, and I'm not going to claim that I "lost God," because God is entirely too faithful to put up with that sort of nonsense from me.

I'm not going to claim that I "lost God," because God is entirely too faithful to put up with that sort of nonsense from me.

It would also be an insult to this blog and to your intelligence to overdramatize my state with some sort of "one day I was in darkness and the next day I was in light," or vice versa, paradigm of conversion. Surely these things happen; they've even happened to me--I only wish the light had been brighter when I did. These dramatic "conversions" can happen to peddlers and pimps, Benedictines and Baptists and even Catholics and Lutherans (oh, I tease, but with love as only a survivor can).

However, I believe that this is not what conversatio is about.

If only it were, I think it would be easier. I'd like to wake up one day with all of the lights streaming on my heart. I think, though, that conversatio may be more like this...like going to bed with a single nightlight on and being glad in the wee morning hours to find that it hasn't burned out--then to see that God, in His infinite mercy, has brought another sunrise to warm my bedroom.

Then, that the stove light works when I can't quite see if my eggs are done.

And the table lamp works when I want to read.

Light by light, God gives me what I need to see my progress through the day. Then, God gives me the grace to navigate through the furniture and choices until the sun sets and I'm alone with my nightlight again.

So what happened that I lost my Rule and my rhythm of Benedictine reading and prayer? I'm not sure, but I know when it happened. Sometime between the move away from the abbey and the trips to the hospital, around the time of the divorce and the feeling unfit to be around other spiritual people. I stopped reaching out to other Benedictine oblates and asking for their prayers. I still read the oblate newsletter, but felt like it was from another time, another place, too far for me to reach.

So honestly, it's no excuse, but I believe that the very nature of conversatio is why I keep misplacing my Rule of Benedict, now that I'm alone.

Those lights of conversion are so dim, and I'm fumbling around here all by myself.

I think that's why most Benedictines try very hard not to live alone, or at least try to get out and pray with others now and then. You need someone to reach over and hand you your prayer book, sometimes, or to nudge you when you doze off, so early in the morning, or at Evening Prayer.

Is anybody out there?

2004-10-25T18:32:00.000-05:00

Gate at Trinity Heights

2004-10-25T18:30:00.000-05:00

Trinity Heights 2

On Conversatio

2004-10-25T13:39:00.000-05:00

How one woman's Benedictine experience of conversatio began

Some years ago, I fell among Benedictine monks, and began to grow in prayer. It was a happy turn at an unhappy time. When I came to them, at Mount Michael Benedictine Abbey in Elkhorn, Nebraska, I was despondent, having lost a child and thinking that I may be on the verge of losing even more than that...my sanity, my marriage, my way on the road of life...

It was Kathleen Norris' Cloister Walk that had lured me to the rhythms and eccentricities of Benedictine life and prayer. I became an oblate there at the urging of a fine old monk named Father Frederic, whose deepest and wisest advise to me was "Pray as you can--don't worry about how you can't." Father Frederic has since gone to glory, where I imagine he's wearing his coveralls and taking good care of the grounds, but his smile and his simple words guide me still.

"Pray as you can--don't worry about how you can't."

I've moved hundreds of miles away from the abbey and from my community of oblates. I miss them. I've also moved far away in terms of suffering, sin, and experience from the person that I was when I first became a Benedictine oblate. Things seemed much simpler then. Back then, I dreamed of sanctity. Most days now, I think I haven't got a prayer. I've been thinking lately, though, about what it means to be a Benedictine , and I decided to begin this blog in hopes of connecting with others who are interested in the idea of ongoing conversion or conversatio. It's a fine idea, once it gets under your skin and into your heart, that throughout your life, you turn and return to God, and that God turns and returns you to himself.

Just an aside. As I begin, I ask to be forgiven in advance for something. I ask to be forgiven for referring to God as "he." I know I'll do it, and I know it might offend or hurt some tender hearts and disciplined minds. It's a habit that I once tried to break, when it used to be offensive to me. I was once a feminist Christian, and couldn't even call God my Father for a while. I couldn't conceptualize God as male, and tried very hard to image and speak to and of God as without gender. I think God probably is without gender, as we know it, but I really can't speak that way. As I came to forgive the painful "He" in my past for the hurts he inflicted on me, and that part started to heal, I came to peace with my limited vocabulary. For me, God can't be an "it." I just can't have intimacy with an "it." I don't see any advantage to God as "she," so I'll stick to my tendency toward "he." It's my weakness, I've owned up to it, and since it's my blog, I suggest we move on. Or, I bless you on your way as you click to a different site.

For you who have decided to stay, I invite you to comment and join me in considering what ongoing conversion, or conversatio means. Conversion to what? Holiness? Perfection? And what might those things mean? I'll try each time to end with something from St. Benedict or a Benedictine writer to fuel our thoughts.

"First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to God most earnestly to bring it to perfection." (Prologue 4, Rule of St. Benedict)