God Who Comes in Whispers
August 8, 2014 By Leave a Comment

God Who Comes in Whispers

curly wind clip art.jpg

    First published in The Catholic Times, August 10, 2014, Volume 63:3

Sunday’s reading follows a dramatic showdown between Elijah and King Ahab after three long years of drought predicted by the prophet. During his reign, Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, spread the worship of Baal throughout the land and murdered the prophets of the Lord. Elijah alone remained. Prompted by God, Elijah met with the king and proposed they meet on Mount Carmel.

People from all over Israel were summoned including the prophets of Baal. Tired of their unwillingness to choose between the Lord and Baal, Elijah challenged them to watch and decide: The prophets of Baal were to prepare a sacrifice. Elijah would do the same. Each would call on their god to send fire to consume the offering.

You know the outcome. Despite a day of shouting, dancing, and self-mutilation, Baal’s prophets received no answer. Then Elijah, after preparing his sacrifice and inviting the people to douse it all with water three times, asked the Lord to answer his prayer so the people would turn their hearts again to the true God.

Fire consumed the sacrifice, the stones, the wood, and dried up all the water in the trench. Elijah commanded the people to slaughter all the prophets of Baal who were present. A small cloud over the sea grew larger and darker, and as God had promised, at last, rain came.

Jezebel was furious and vowed to take Elijah’s life. He fled until, exhausted, he sat down by a bush and asked God to take his life, but angels, not death, arrived. And they brought food. Twice they fed the old prophet. Strengthened, he traveled forty days to Mount Horeb.

This is where we meet Elijah in Sunday’s reading. After having spent his life striving to be faithful to his God, he wasn’t sure what he had accomplished. In spite of the spectacular results on Mount Carmel and the killing of Baal’s prophets, his world appeared unchanged.

A few lines are left out of Sunday’s reading. Between the night of sleep in the cave, and the command to stand on the mountain to wait for the Lord, Elijah hears God asking him what he is doing there.

He answers, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”

Haven’t we felt that same way at one time or another? Having done our best, our best isn’t good enough. We’ve prayed, we’ve worked, and we’ve hoped but eventually, find hope elusive. As the angels observed, the journey is too much for us. For our resources. We need nourishment from God to go on, and even then we aren’t sure what to do next. Poverty, hatred, oppression, and disease continue to plague our world, and we have no answers.

Elijah waited to meet the Lord, but God didn’t come in the violence of wind or storms. He didn’t come in earthquakes or fire. The Lord didn’t come with force, but in a whisper. All the power of God. In a whisper.

I find that comforting. I think it’s because I can do “whispers.” I can do little things with great love. All the bombs raining down fire on people below haven’t brought peace. All the hatred and angry posturing haven’t brought needed change. Like Elijah’s showdown on Mount Carmel, they might look impressive, but in the end, they only make things worse.

We aren’t perfect. Elijah wasn’t either. He had four hundred and fifty prophets slaughtered because they believed in the wrong god. He wanted good. He wanted what God wanted, but couldn’t make it happen himself.

It’s a story repeated in scripture and in our lives. God brings good from our efforts in ways we don’t know. When we can see no path ahead, like Elijah, God invites us to trust. To be still. To listen. God is passing by. God is coming in whispers. Whispers from the lips of children, from a tired mother. From a scarred earth. From a cool breeze. From a kind deed. From some little thing you do that you think makes no difference.

The Holy One who made all that is and who is beyond our imaginings is a God who comes in whispers.

© 2014 Mary van Balen

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,
Inching Into This Century: Amazing Bluetooth
July 29, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Inching Into This Century: Amazing Bluetooth

outside with speakerI’m not completely Bluetooth challenged. I have a Bluetooth keyboard and mouse for my computer and iPad. But, last week, after a year without anything to play music in my house (unless you count the TV, which I hate to use because the entire time the CD is on, so is the TV’s blue screen), I decided to shop and not return without a speaker of some sort to use with my ipod/ipad. I’ve procrastinated too long to buy an iHome docking radio and speaker. Why didn’t I buy that one I saw at Target six months ago. Now, my 4th generation iPod is “old,” its 30 pin connector replaced by “lightening connect.”

I drove to the closest Apple store. No matter what you think of Apple products, their stores are full of knowledgeable people who get paid to help you. The man who helped me sort through bluetooth speakers was a musician and did some music producing on the side. How lucky could I get. He didn’t mind endless questions, playing and replaying classical music through speakers until I narrowed it down to two. Other customers were turning to look at us as my Apple guy turned the volume up so I could hear differences between how the two handled volume and put out bass as compared to midrange signals.

“They’re looking at us,” I ventured. “Maybe it’s too loud.”

“No problem. You’re just as important as any other customer here. You need to hear the sound before you can know what you like.”

I deferred.

And walked out with a cool cylindrical speaker that I can take anywhere. It is water resistant so if it gets caught out in the rain, no problem. You can even use it in the shower if you want, as long as it not directly in the water stream. OK. I don’t need it in the shower.

The next hurdle was loading my iPod with music, something I had been avoiding. Emboldened by my purchase, I did just that. So, today, I decided to do some writing outside. I put my iPod near a window and set the speaker along with my computer and a cup of tea on the table in the backyard. Amazing. Bach and I outside, watching big dark clouds blow by. I savored the cool air and prayed that the yard service across the street would stop at trimming with a weed whacker and leave the grass cutting to a sunnier day. Nothing drives me inside faster than people cutting lawns. My lungs hurt just thinking about it.

No grass cutters. No rain. Just beautiful music and thoughts and a computer to receive them.

I love quiet and don’t mind spending entire days in silence getting in touch with Grace in my life. I also love music. It has its own way of helping us be in touch with the Sacred in our midst. Now I have music to go!

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , , ,
Reentry
July 19, 2014 By 2 Comments

Reentry

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Reentry is always a challenge whether one is returning to work or school from vacation, rejoining estranged groups of family or friends, adjusting to changing seasons, or for a select few, taking the bumpy ride back into earth’s atmosphere from a stint in outer space. When we “enter again” we are not the same people we were when we left. If they do what is intended, vacations change us into more relaxed and revitalized versions of ourselves. Engaging again with people who have caused us hurt or pain or whom we have hurt and avoided requires growth and maturity, an open heart and a bit of courage. I can’t imagine the change in perspective that affects those human beings who have had the privilege of seeing the earth from outer space. (A stunning book of photographs and reflections of astronauts from around the world give a glimpse into that experience: The Home Planet by Kevin W. Kelley ed. with a forward by Jacques-Yves Cousteau. I am not sure it is available to purchase, but you might find a used copy or one in a library.)

Wherever we are coming from and going to, retuning to life’s routines after a time away presents opportunities. Can I return to work without allowing the pace, atmosphere, and demands overwhelm me? If it’s a job I don’t like, can I keep a positive attitude and look for what is good in it? Am I able to let go of anger and the urge to see just one point of view, mine, when attempting to reconnect with those I’ve been avoiding?

I’m experiencing a reentry myself. After a ten day residency for a two-year spiritual guidance program, I’m doing laundry and preparing to return to work, writing, and family connections. It’s not easy. While the schedule was full of presentations, reflections, and hard work, it also provided a silent sabbath of retreat for a couple of days. The class had gathered from around the country and new and deep friendships were begun.

For ten days I didn’t have to prepare food or wash dishes. I could wander around the fifty-acre spiritual center in Maryland listening to birds and watching deer, foxes, and fireflies. On the night of the Perigee Moon (Super Moon) I found a comfortable place to sit and kept vigil with binoculars and a camera, fueled by a homemade chocolate chip cookie and cup of tea.

Part of the gift of the residency was the opportunity to cultivate a quiet, listening heart, sharing silence as well as conversation and presentations as a group. We focused on the Divine Presence in our lives and in the lives of those we serve. We held in prayer those dear to us, those hurting in our world torn by violence, and creation that offers solace and grace even while reeling from effects of 7 billion people living on the planet.

The night before we would all return home, our class had a party. Spontaneous. Food showed up on tables. People pitched in to arrange the space. Lots of talk. Lots of laughter. I walked over to add some snacks to my plate and laughed when I saw what a couple of clever folks had added to the offerings: From Trader Joes: Inner Peas. From Brewer’s Art in Maryland: Resurrection Beer.

Two things to remember as I ease back into life at home: Take time to be still and to cultivate the sense of living in the Divine Presence.  Have faith that God brings good from all things and invites us to be part of bringing Grace into the world, into our time and place and to rest in the Spirit that blows where it will.

And, when I forget, I just might pick up a bag of Inner Peas, wash them down with some Resurrection Beer and move into prayerful silence.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
Blessed Rain of Grace
July 12, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Blessed Rain of Grace

Photo: Mary van Balen

Photo: Mary van Balen

First published in The Catholic Times  July 13, 2014 issue

 

I love the words of the Lord proclaimed by Isaiah in Sunday’s first reading and find them to be a great source of hope. Perhaps it’s the simplicity of the metaphor: Rain and snow and the word of God.

“Just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats, so shall my word be….”

Despite countless acres of concrete and asphalt that stretch and tangle around the globe, the majority of rain and snow that fall from the sky land on ground that can soak it up. Last night, hearing thunder in the distance, I walked outside, pulled up a lawn chair, and watched towering clouds move quickly across the sky. Leaves rustled turning bottom up as the storm blew in.

Potted herbs behind me released wafts of rosemary, basil, oregano, and sage as big cold drops hit their leaves. Birds hurried to shelter and a rabbit scampered quickly across the lawn and under a bush. Rain came harder and I retreated inside, carrying the smell of summer rain.

Eventually, water that isn’t sucked up by vegetation or that isn’t trapped deep below the surface returns to the air. The great water cycle we all studied in grade school science class. The moisture doesn’t disappear, it just changes form for a while until conditions are right, and after gathering in clouds, it drops to the earth once again.

“…so shall my word  be” says the Lord. “…my word that goes forth from my mouth; my word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.”

I think of Jesus, the Word of God, who came and accomplished his mission. Saturated with the One who sent him, he could not help but reveal the Holy Mystery. Jesus lived life in accordance with God’s will: To love unconditionally, loving all and calling them to share in Divine life, as he did. Jesus, the Word of God from before all time, came and watered our souls with Love so they could be fruitful.

God’s word also falls into our selves through words of scripture. As we listen to readings at Mass or ponder them at home, the Truth makes the soil of our hearts fertile, able to bring forth God’s life and love into our daily lives and into the world.

We also are God’s word, a bit of Mystery spoken into flesh sent with purpose. Sometimes, I find myself wondering what mine is at the moment. I’m a mother, daughter, sister, and aunt. I’ve been a teacher, author, and social worker. Still, I wonder: What is the word that I am given to speak in the world today? What am I to do that will “achieve the end for which” I am sent into this “now.”

Sometimes God’s purpose for us seems clear. Perhaps it is parenting years. Or times when we comfort the sick or serve those in our family or circle of friends who need help. Sometimes we may be part of something much bigger than ourselves that makes a visible difference in the world. As I write, we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of President Lyndon B. Johnson signing the Civil Rights Act into law.

Those who were part of that effort from politicians to civil rights leaders, to ordinary people who spoke up and refused to give in to the racist world view…those people were words sent forth from the mouth of God and they spoke their truth.

It’s often in ordinary times that we have difficulty recognizing ourselves as God’s word spoken into the world. It was easier for me when I worked with abused women. Not so clear as a retail associate. Yet, there I am. There we are. In mundane jobs, in ordinary family circumstances, in places we never expected to be.

Simple. Like rain falling from the sky. We do our jobs. We love. We persevere. And the Civil Rights Acts becomes law, or a child learns to read, or a food pantry is stocked, or dinner is prepared, or a lonely soul receives a smile.

I don’t know the details of God’s plan. I know it is about loving and service. And that Holy Word and blessed rain of Grace will fall into our hearts and make it come to be.

© 2014 Mary van Balen

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , ,
I Need Pentecost
June 9, 2014 By Leave a Comment

I Need Pentecost

Photo: Mary van Balen-Detail Lectern Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, London

Photo: Mary van Balen-Detail Lectern Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, London

Of Sunday’s two readings describing the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples, I have always preferred the one from John’s gospel where Jesus on his followers huddled in fear behind locked doors and says simple, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Never one for lots of drama and fanfare, this account is quiet. The Spirit comes with a breath. No one jumps up mysteriously speaking so everyone can understand no matter the language. No instant transformation. These same disciples are huddled together when Jesus returns again (Granted, he does come through locked doors. A bit of drama.)to show his wounds to the unconvinced Thomas.

All in all, the followers of Jesus needed some time to respond to the gift of Spirit. Life had been confusing. Jesus had been crucified. Nothing turned out as they had expected. The Spirit had a lot of work to do, sinking into the hearts and souls of these wounded and confused folks. They needed time.

Maybe that’s another reason I like this description of the coming of the Holy Spirit: It resonates. Life has not turned out as I had expected either. Does it ever? I need time to heal from the deeper hurts. I need time to get up from life’s more stinging blows and, when I do, to rebuild trust in this God of the Psalms who, despite being billed as our guardian and protecter, sometimes lets things slip by, at least from my perspective.

So, I basked in the Pentecost celebration at Mass yesterday, swaying to  songs with beats from Pentecostal to Caribbean. I soaked up joy and hope. This morning, as I read today’s Mass readings I stuck with the Psalmist’s prayer, “My help is in the One who made heaven and earth,” and know that, like the disciples, I will grow into  deeper trust and the peace that comes on the same breath as the Spirit

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
Ordinary Grace
March 24, 2014 By Leave a Comment

Ordinary Grace

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

I had a marvelous friend who was a great artist, Marvin Triguba. Once, when I marveled at the way he captured light in his paintings, he said, “That’s how I see, and I paint what I see.” He wondered aloud, “doesn’t everyone see light that way?”

No, I would have to say. Not in such a conscious way. Of course, light creates shadows and bright spaces. It gives form and definition to what we see. It entered Marvin’s eyes as it did mine, but what his brain did with that raw material was astounding. Me? Sometimes I recognize the ordinary grace that comes with light.

I thought of Marvin a couple of days ago when I looked into the dining room and was stunned by the beauty of morning light playing across the hardwood floors. Some of the boards seemed all light. Others, darker in hue, glowed. I allowed the beauty of that moment to enter not only my eyes and brain, but also my soul.

This morning, when I turned into the living room from the hall, my eyes were bathed in bright light filtering through half-opened mini-blinds and green leaves in a variety of shapes and shades. I drew a quick breath and moved toward the window, putting myself in a place where the light would bathe me, too. Grace.

Isn’t that prayer? Intentionally putting ourselves into a soul space that is open to receive the Holy pouring into it? Longing for Presence as my plants, and my soul, longed for light this morning?

Artist God, who floods the world in Glory, enter my heart. Flood my soul with light that shows not only bright places there, but also shadow places. Open my inner eye to see the beauty of myself as you have made me. The beauty of creation. I give thanks for the artists, like Marvin, that you have given to the world. Their vision and work remind us of the Grace of light.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , , ,
Lent: Winter, Flowers, and Pete Seeger
March 6, 2014 By 2 Comments

Lent: Winter, Flowers, and Pete Seeger

retreat bouquet from daughtersOriginally published in The Catholic Times, March 9, 2014 issue

A lover of winter, even I am ready for spring this year. Snow, ice, and frigid temperatures just keep coming. And coming. As I arranged a small “prayer table” in my dining area, I decided to add flowers. Some years I have placed small branches in a vase or a container of stones and bulbs, forcing them to sprout and bloom by the end of Lent. This year, I am starting with blooms. I’m not feeling particularly “spiritual.” I need a reminder that even in the midst of winter, spiritual as well as physical, God’s love is present.

Besides flowers, the space holds a book of Scripture readings, a Tibetan singing bowl to call me to prayer, a small, bronze cross, and some bits of nature gathered or given by friends. A candle sits atop a tall wrought iron stand fashioned for me by my daughter many years ago. For some reason, this year I think I will need all these sacramental objects to keep me focused and hopeful.

It’s not just winter weather that has made my spirit weary. Life has been busy with writing projects, healing, and work. News of world conflicts, genocide, drought and famine, while not unique to this moment, weighs particularly heavy on my heart. Closer to home, political rancor and intolerance continue to grab headlines. Our world needs hope. It needs Easter.

Winter has not been without moments of beauty and grace. One was a sing-along gathering people from around the city to remember and honor Pete Seeger who died at the end of January, ninety-four years young. Parking a few blocks away from the Mennonite church where it was held, I joined others walking in the street to avoid icy, unshoveled sidewalks. The space was packed. Led by a trio on guitar, banjo, and bass, we raised our voices (in harmony, no less), singing the old songs. It felt good. The day Pete Seeger died, I took my guitar out from under my bed and played for a couple of hours, wondering why I didn’t do that much anymore. Singing and playing are prayer for me, much like writing.

“This Lent, I’ll sing more,” I told myself.

Pete Seeger used to say that we shouldn’t wish for a great leader. Instead, we should hope for lots and lots of good leaders who work hard right where they are. Think globally. Act locally. It will be participation that saves the world, he’d say.

Lent is like that for me, this year. I’m trying to nurture the awareness of being part of something much bigger than myself, bigger than my little world of home and work, family and friends. Jesus gave us the big picture, the call the help in bringing the kingdom. But he calls us to
“act locally.” He didn’t ask his followers to become national figures or world leaders. He called them to love one another. To respect and to serve, right where they were.

When those he healed wanted to go with him, he often told them to stay put and tell their story to those with whom they lived and worked. It’s harder to do that. Leaving one’s routine behind sounds exciting. It’s easier to love people we don’t know that well.

It’s easier to think about big events and projects than about calling our political representatives, taking time to visit with a grumpy neighbor, or becoming aware of how we might live more consciously of our effect on the planet. Following Jesus is more little steps than giant leaps. It’s more nitty-gritty than glitz.

Lent’s about embracing death, sure of life to come. It’s also about enjoying flowers in the wintertime. It’s about giving ourselves down time to remember that even when we don’t feel God with us or in our world, the Holy One lives in us all. Lent reminds me of this winter that prepares the earth for spring.

© 2014 Mary van Balen

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
January 16, 2014 By Leave a Comment

A New Year’s Resolution: Always Open

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

PHOTO: Mary van Balen

Originally published in the Catholic Times   January 19, 2014

Often on New Years, people make resolutions. According to a survey by the University of Scranton’s Journal of Clinical Psychology, about forty-eight percent of Americans usually make resolutions while only about 8 percent successfully keep them. Top on the list? Losing weight. Getting organized, spending less and saving more, and enjoying life to the fullest are next. Staying healthy, learning something exciting, and quitting smoking follow. Helping others achieve their goals, falling in love, and spending more time with family round out the top ten.

I’m not a list maker, but there are a few exceptions: If I don’t make a grocery list, I end up buying too much, and when I travel, I make a list of what I should pack. When working on a long-term writing project or composing a talk, I make notes, an unorganized brainstorming list at first that eventually takes shape.

At the beginning of the New Year, I sometimes open my journal, jotting down thoughts and goals for the months ahead. This year’s inspiration came as I shared the first dinner of 2014 with a small group of friends. Before eating, we joined hands while one spoke a blessing beautiful in its simplicity and breadth. Fitting for a new year, it included those present as well as friends and family far away, the gift of creation, the food, and the hands that prepared it, and thanksgiving for the Holy One who sustains all.

The words that stayed with me as I drove home later that evening were the ones inviting us always to be open and receptive to Grace, God’s Self, as it is given. This thought suggested a resolution different from those that commit us to change something in our lives, those that depend on our activity. We can do or not do something to achieve those goals. For example, many of us can develop the discipline necessary to eat less and more healthily. We can give our best efforts toward quitting smoking, learning something, or spending more time with family and friends. These things require us to do something.

The resolution playing in my mind that night was different. It called me to still my heart, not so much to do something as to be something: to be open, to be ready. I can’t make Grace come; I simply receive it when it does.

Unlike watching pounds drop away on a scale or playing a game with your family, becoming receptive to Grace is not something we can see or measure. Sometimes, even when Grace fills our hearts, we don’t know it.

This kind of “resolution” requires faith. Faith that the Holy One is always pouring out Divine Life, faith that this Fountain-Fullness never runs dry, faith that my soul is capable of holding such precious Gift.

Always being open to receive Grace differs from typical resolutions in another way, too. While many New Year’s promises call us to transform ourselves into something “better,” the resolution of openness tells us we are already “good,” good enough that God trusts us with Divine Life. We don’t do the changing. It is that Life that changes us.

© 2014 Mary van Balen

Filed Under: Grace in the Moment Tagged With: , , , , , ,
You Do Not Recognize
January 2, 2014 By Leave a Comment

You Do Not Recognize

people-painting“…but there is one among you whom you do not recognize...”  Today’s gospel reading  Jn 1, 26b

God among us, and we don’t notice: God who wanders in the streets looking for a homeless shelter on this snowy day. Who huddles lonely and forgotten in nursing homes. Who wanders into our stores to buy or just to be around other people, looking for a kind word or listening ear. Who lives next door but we don’t talk.

God among us, and we don’t notice: God who fills our classrooms. Who removes our garbage. Who cares for us. Who needs our help. Who’s our best friend. Our nemesis.

“Who are you anyway?” they asked John the Baptist. Not the Christ. Not Elijah. Not the Prophet who is to come. So who? “The voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord.”  

“There is one coming whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie,” he said. 

An endless list. One person we likely won’t think of is ourselves. We look outward, sometimes finding Divine Presence in others. Sometimes not. But do we look inward and expect the Holy One dwelling there? We know ourselves too well…or perhaps not well at all, but we think we do.

Did John know that the One who was to come, who had indeed come already, had always been dwelling in his heart?

This year I will do better, I tell myself. I will look with different eyes at the people who fill my life. I will slow down more often, and look within. I will recognize the One who is among us and who dwells in my heart. Whose life is my own.

This year I will do better. With Grace. I tell myself.

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , ,
DEEPENING: 4 Companions
November 7, 2013 By Leave a Comment

DEEPENING: 4 Companions

hands Last night, after a lovely evening of dinner and prayer with our long running monthly “Sabbath Group,” I decided to spend the night there. It was my first meeting since knee surgery, and as simple as the gathering was, I was exhausted. Another member of the group spent the night as well. We enjoyed a bit of Bailey’s and conversation before heading up to bed.

This morning I shared prayer with my spiritual director. It is different than sitting alone at home, trying to quiet my spirit and rest in the Holy Presence that always surrounds us. Still, it was definitely “deepening.” We never know where the Spirit will lead when we sit together. She has been my spiritual companion for over a decade. She listens, and helps me listen to God’s movement in my soul. I can always tell when we are getting close to what is deepest and most in need of surfacing for God’s healing touch: tears come. Usually a quiet trickle, though there have been times when the “prayer of tears” is more abundant!

I give thanks for her companionship. Her deep prayer and willingness to share my journey.

This morning there was anger that needed expressed, expectations that needed relinquished, and compassion for self that I find so difficult to give. She assures me the sharing goes both ways and that our time together is blessing for her as well. I don’t doubt that. But this morning I am moved with gratitude for the gift of companioning she shares. I think, too, of other companions on my way. They are not all close by. Some weave through my life like a thread, now visible, now disappearing underneath the fabric of my life, reappearing now and then.

Some have helped me reclaim myself after years of having ignored or lost it. Most are present in less “formal” ways than a spiritual director. But all have shown God’s face to me…

…. Compassionate God, thank you for the people you have placed in our lives, people who have companioned uson this journey to You. Many do not know their importance. They are unaware of the support they have given: a phone call that brings laughter and light into a dark day; an evening at the theater and then coffee and conversation after; an invitation to share a walk on a sunny day.  A visit when we are sick. Inclusion in a celebration. A shoulder to cry on. An opportunity to listen to them and to share their journeys.

You bless us, Holy One, with countless companions on our way. Bless them. Help us hear the call you give to each of us to be messengers of hope, of your love and compassion to one another.    Amen

Filed Under: The Scallop Tagged With: , , , , ,