We did not ask for this room or
this music; we were invited in.
Therefore, because the dark
surrounds us, let us turn our
faces toward the light. Let us
endure hardship to be grateful
for plenty...We did not ask for
this room or this music. But
because we are here, let us
dance.
~ Stephen King and Bridget Carpenter in a poem from 11.22.63
Our world is so full of conditions
—
demands, requirements, and obligations
that we often wonder what is expected of us.
But when we meet a truly free person
[a truly giving person]
there are no expectations,
only an invitation
to reach into ourselves
and discover there
our own freedom.
~ from Bread for the Journey by Henri Nouwen, as quoted in "Thin Places" Sept/Oct/Nov 2010
The circumstances of our lives are another medium of God’s communication with us. God opens some doors and closes others.... Through the wisdom of our bodies, God tells us to slow down or reorder our priorities. The happy coincidences and frustrating impasses of daily life are laden with messages. Patient listening and the grace of the Spirit are the decoding devices of prayer. It is a good habit to ask, What is God saying to me in this situation? Listening to our lives is part of prayer.
Dear Friends ~ American culture tends to prize maximum choice with minimum limitations and, especially in this season, urges us to want more —not less. We tie ourselves in knots stressing over constraints of time and chafe at the notion that others may impinge on our space or have more resources. It seems to be human nature that however much space or time expands, we keep filling it and still feel cramped. Perhaps we could contemplate cultivating alternate perspectives. Freedom and structure are not necessarily mutually exclusive. In some ways, having or expecting to have unlimited choices is an unearned "entitlement" of the privileged few. Could being grateful and attentive to what we have help us to be fully present in the time we are in and actively inhabit the space where we live? Sue Bender, in PLAIN AND SIMPLE, ponders the metaphor of patchwork quilting to understand how to make sense of the rhythms of our lives.
Traveling light—imagine this
meaning: unencumbered journeying,
a graceful way of traveling through
life like a single leaf. Now imagine
another: the light by which we
journey, the light that shows the way.
Our traveling light...
What would it mean to live like a
single leaf? What would it mean to
make one’s life a journey of
simplicity? a journey unencumbered,
uncluttered, without distraction—a
journey of focus and intention? a
journey of lightness and light?...
We take delight in things; we take
delight in being loosed from things.
Between these two delights, we must
dance our lives.
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
Clear-cut answers
To a softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
At the brink of death;
For something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand at a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes...
Daring to be human creatures,
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.
When you let go of trying to get more
of what you don’t really need, it frees
up oceans of energy to make a
difference with what you have. When
you make a difference with what you
have, it expands.
...I have another choice—to accept
what I didn’t get to choose...what I
finally get to choose is that tiny space
between all the givens. In that tiny
space is freedom...
Having limits, subtracting distractions,
making a commitment to do what you
do well, brings a new kind of
intensity...
Before I went to the Amish, I thought
that the more choices I had, the luckier
I’d be. But there is a big difference
between having many choices and
making a choice. Making a choice—
declaring what is essential—creates a
framework for a life that eliminates
many choices but gives meaning to the
things that remain. Satisfaction comes
from giving up wishing I was
somewhere else or doing something
else.
