Waiting for my call

Psalm 3

But you, Lord, are a shield around me,
    my glory, the One who lifts my head high.
4 I call out to the Lord,
    and he answers me from his holy mountain.

5 I lie down and sleep;
    I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.
6 I will not fear though tens of thousands
    assail me on every side.

Lord you are my shield. 

I call out from my shadow, from my side of the mountain. 

You, atop your holy mountain answer me. 

Note, I must call out. 

If I want to hear your answer, I must call out. 

Implies a trust. 

A trust that even when I dont see you, you are there.

Or, a willingness to at least try.

Today I know you are there. 

Waiting for my call. 

That is enough. 

Which yields its fruit in season

But I want fruit now. 

I want to always be on top of my game, creating, producing, shining, doing. 

I like the results of contemplation, reflection, planning. 

I just am not a big fan of being inside the process. 

Lectio Divina ( sacred reading) of Psalm 1 today. 

I know this Psalm. 

There won't be anything new. 

The righteous vesus the wicked. 

I choose righteous. 

In first reading, I see the righteous tree yields its fruit in season. 

A modifying phrase I never noticed. 

In season. 

It is okay to float, to relax, to let time slip by. 

Fruit will come when it is ready. 

A relief. 

Be still Sara. 

Know that He is God. 

Know that He is in charge. 

Trust Him. 

My fruit will come, in its season. 

Psalm 1

1 Blessed is the one
    who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
    or sit in the company of mockers,
2 but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and who meditates on his law day and night.
3 That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
    which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
    whatever they do prospers.

4 Not so the wicked!
    They are like chaff
    that the wind blows away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
    nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

6 For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
    but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.

The Buddha on the Path

Remember The Buddha in the Attic?

Our book club, The Lucky Thirteen, read it years ago. Japanese women in California over a forty year span, starting in the 1920's. I think.

What I remember was the breath-takingly beautiful writing. The women's thoughts interwoven with the storyline. Coming to America with hope, then reality hits. Who retains that hope. Wow. 

Hope, dreams, wishes. Full of promise. 
How to not be discouraged?
Hold someone's hand. 
But I digress. 

Well, yesterday I was walking on a grassy footpath from Golspie towards Brora. 

Just at the bridge crossing the racously babbling brook shooting down from Ben Bhraggie. 

Along the North Sea. 

I was about 2 miles north of Golspie. 

A woman about our age coming the other way. We stopped to chat. 

Walkers always do.

She could tell I was from the US.

:)

Pleasant chatting about oystercatchers, clouds, free range beef, Orkney fudge cheesecake. 

She said, I don't want you to leave Scotland without a gift. 

Reached into her knapsack, pulled out something wrapped in blue tissue paper. 

Handed it to me, said to open it when I land home. 

Off she walked towards Golspie. Turned and called out, enjoy God's creation!

Of course I couldnt wait. 

A petite carved Buddha. 

Definitely stone. 

I placed him in my jacket pocket. Walked on towards Brora.

How did I feel?

I felt connected to the world. Does that sound weird?

A small simple gesture. 

A random, small gift. 

I share this Buddha with my dear Lucky Thirteen. 

Fellow adventurers on the path.

Lectio Divina on Lamentations

The phrase 'Lectio Divina' kept popping up over the past fews days. In readings. 

So I looked it up on Wikipedia. 

It's a way of studying the bible, not focused on academic learning but on opening up your heart to the message of Christ in verses. 

Remember, you are learning this from one who just looked this up. 

Lectio Divina was starterrd in third century by Origen ( I have heard of him, Christian mystic guy.)  Benedictine monks revved it up in sixth century. Yada, yada, yada. Still actively used, especially by Catholics. 

Many variations. Here's what I took away as appealing to me. Four steps.

1. Read a passage. Don't need a set amount, read until you stop. All the while listen for a word or verse that speaks to your heart. 

2. Meditate on that word or verse. 

3. Read passage again, focusing on your senses - see it, hear it, smell it, touch it, taste it. (Sounds like St. Ignatius style of reading verses, maybe he used Lectio Divina.) Experience the verses. What is God telling you? Look for Christ in the passage.

4. Pray for how you are to change or an action you are called to in response to this passage. 

My first passage? 

I opened up 'Bible' app on IPAD, as I have no bible with me here in rental house in Scotland. It opened to Lamentations 5.

I read. Knowing nothing about Lamentations. 

Well not much. 

The Israelites are not happy. 

Their enemies have won, and they blame God. 

Their world is shaken, turned upside down. 

Horrible acts are done to them.

They whine alot. 

They are just words on a page to me, so I don't have much compassion. 

The end verses jump out at me.

After telling God how His reign endures forever (flattery will get you everywhere)

they say

'Restore us to yourself, Lord, that we may return.' 

Yippe-doodle they have hope. 

But no, the next verse is

'unless you have utterly rejected us, and are angry beyond measure.'

Way to limit God's mercy and redemptive love. 

This is the last verse of Chapter 5, which is the last book of Lamentations. 

1. The phrase ' Restore us to yourself, Lord, that we may return'  is what jumped out at me. Isn't that exactly what I have been asking lately?

2. Meditating. Hope and resolve in the unseen can leave easily when physical suffering endures. Look at Job. Look at why people use physical torture to extract information. Reminds me of the plight of Middle Eastern refugees today. 

3. Reading this chapter placing myself in it, tough. I think the Israelites were wrong, God didn't cause their enemies to win. God is focused on the spiritual, the eternity. 

He can use hardship, but I don't think He causes it. 

4. My reaction? 

Choose kindness. 

Choose to reach out and pick up someone who is hurting. 

Choose to not blame God for sufferings. 

Work in the solution. Be part of the solution. 

Be thankful I wasn't an Israelite woman in 586 BC, marching in exile towards Babylon. 

Pile of Stones

Markers along the path.
That others have been there before.
That this is a place on earth to remember.
That something of importance happened here.
Something worth remembering.

Old Testament people did this.
Jacob piled stones at Bethel. 'Surely the 'I AM' is in this place.'
Joshua piled Jordan's stones at Gilgal, so all the world would know that 'the hand of the Lord is powerful.'
To mark where God acted on behalf of His people.
To remember.

I personally think this is an excellent tradition.
Absolutely breath-takingly beautiful things happen to me.
I smile, and march forward.
Maybe say a 'thank you' first.
And take a picture.
But that's the extent of my mark.

Approaching Dunrobin Castle on a grassy path alongside the North Sea.
A pile of stones.

Makes me stop my march.
Look at them.
Someone thought this was a place to take notice of.
Why?

In the shadow

I have felt as if I were on the other side of the mountain from God lately.

Visualize this. 

My path, the one I wake up every morning and choose to follow, started at the bottom of a steep, conical hill. Some days it looks like a mountain to me, but let's just call it a hill. 

To proceed forward, the overall direction is upward and around the hill. Sometimes the path leads downward to circumvent blockages. Somedays it's a steep climb, somedays easy-peasy. 

On a hill right next to mine is God, his cloud of glory encompassing the peak. Just resting there, shining out towards me. 

So you understand, on my journey there are times (moments, days, weeks) when the hill stands between me and God. When I can't see Him. I am in the shadow. 

When it is nighttime, you are on the opposite side of the earth from the sun. You can't see the sun. Do you doubt the sun will rise the next day? 

When I don't see God, when it is difficult for me to feel His presence, now I know I will turn the corner. 

But I must keep walking. 

Walking towards Him. 

Or at least what I think is towards Him. 

He says, 'Trust me.'

He says, ' Do not fear.'

Over and over and over again. 

All throughout the Old Testament, and the New.

He knows I will be alone in that darkness. 

He waits for me to turn the corner.

So how do I know He will be there?

How does anyone know?

Well, how do you know the sun will rise again tomorrow?

You remember, it has been steadfast. In your lifetime it has always risen.

You learned how it rises.

You were taught stories about why it rises. 

You talk with others who trust it will rise.

You see markers that it has been rising for thousands of years. 

You can doubt. 

But we all know, the sun will rise. 

I remember, I was taught, I see. 

I hope. 

For my Orlando.

For my Orlando

In the midst. 

Disbelief. 

Squint my eyes, cock my head. Am I hearing correctly?

Belly sinks, leaden by weights.

Metallic tastes.

Ripples of silent nausea rising.

Just ripples. Silently rising.

The brain snaps on.

Call my kids. 

Call my husband. 

Connect with my tribe. 

Turn off the television. 

What has happened, has happened. 

Honor the darkness no longer. 

Cover Orlando with a quilt of gentleness. 

Of comfort. 

Of compassion.  

Cast out a net of softness over our community. 

May every man and woman of Orlando see hope. 

Even if only as a pinpoint of light just beginning.

As a morning sunrise first appears over water. 

Thank you for the goodness that I know will prevail. 

Thank you.