the Threshold 

“Contentment is the threshold of peace.”


~ Bob Holmes
– taken from Contemplative Monk

St. Francis

On this Feast Day of St. Francis give thanks for the light of compassion that breaks through our darkest places. (Image – Celebration at Wild Goose Festival 2016)

Memories (re-post with a twist)

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I will never forget you. You are painted into the canvas of my life, in the deepest and truest of colors, by the master hand of the great Artist who first brought us together. You are within my soul. You are light and life, vision and meaning, hope and the dreams from which all hope is crafted. I will never forget you. What you gave I cannot repay, but I can always honor. Who you are, I cannot replace, but I can forever cherish. And one day in time to come, where love finds an eternal home, I will call you again by name, and see you as you see me now. (Bishop S. Charleston)

Throughout this week we have taken time to honor and remember the men and women who have bravely served our country, defending and protecting in situations unimaginable. While flags fly high and the air fills with music of national pride, people have paused to remember.

Memories most often rise as stories  As a chaplain I have listened to stories told by women and men who served in conflicts as long ago as WWI. It is humbling to listen as these memories are shared with pride and sadness. While stories are repeated – as if to get each detail in perfect place – I know not to interrupt their telling. With respect, I have heard about battles, losses and rescues from people now small in stature and frail by age. Something important happens as these stories are shared. I have watched youth and energy rise, transforming the person who is sharing. Time suspends and memories are brought alive in the telling.

I have also been present when there is a quiet pause in the conversation. Some memories cannot be told in story, either because they are bound by vow or too painful to make real once again in words. In those moments honor is given in silent presence.

This world spins at a pace often too fast for memories and stories. We are a better people to set aside time to listen and remember. By doing this we experience renewal of youth and strength.

May we find ways to slow down and listen. The stories told reveal something unknown in each of us – calling us to learn from our history and give thanks for much sacrifice – given to protect us and save others from harms way. 

The baffled mind

 

“There are, it seems, two muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say “It is yet more difficult than you thought.” This is the muse of form. It may be then that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction, to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”― Wendell Berry


a special thank you to the Rev. Brian Cole

Image – Un-Splash

longing for peace…

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May you be drenched with the longing for peace, and make justice blossom on earth.

~ Hildegard of Bingen


Quote: Hildegard of Bingen
Image: Pinterest

Link- Touch Holiness

to face the wind

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I have seen the Spirit moving behind the gathering clouds, with wings the color of rainbows. I have watched the light of creation split the sky, as angels pound the drums of heaven. What is holy is not what is tame, what is divine is as wild as a desert rain. Love is not a timid breeze, but a storm of change, sweeping the comfortable before it like leaves, blowing the dust off our ordered lives, challenging us to dare the elements of our own vision. What is holy is not what is tame, so when you stand to pray, stand facing the wind.


Monday Morning!!!

Some weeks require more bracing than others. This is one of those weeks.

Live & Learn

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“Bracing ourselves for the week”


Photo: John Drysdale via Milk (Child and Elephant sitting)

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