Community Group Assignment- 01/26/05: Write a Psalm of Longing

"A Psalm of Longing"

To walk weightless,

like a feather on the breeze~

     to places needing dusting off,

       hearts needing a tender tickle,

          heads needing a place to rest weary thoughts.

Like a feather,

     crafted to cup,

        created to caress

          that gentle breeze

of Your magnificent Will.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photograph: Crystal Zarba, Ireland - Oct 2004

8:23:32 PM  #

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Graduation, June 12, 2004

My fellow graduates, faculty, family, friends and distinguished guests,

 

It is indeed an honor to come before you this morning.  I must confess my greatest challenge during my Nyack experience came just this week when our Director, Patricia Johnson, said, “Now Donna, you only have 5 minutes to speak.”

 

“Five minutes?!?” I complained to the Assistant Director Sherrie Lawson, “what can I say in only 5 minutes?”

 My fellow cohort members can attest that verbosity is my long suit. My children will tell you that, “Mom specializes in speeches.” Even my parents remember that on the very first day of my educational journey, yes, that very first day of first grade, the teacher made me put my nose against the blackboard because I simply could not be quiet! What could I say in only 5 minutes?

“A lot has been said in less than 5 minutes, Donna.”

 Over the last few days Sherrie’s response to my complaint has echoed in my head and in my heart as I thought back through my own life.

 

 

1.      47 years ago to this very day it took a second shift nurse less than 5 minutes to march down the sterile hospital hall to the waiting room and declare to my anxious daddy, “It’s a girl!”

2.      Less than a year later it took less than 5 minutes for the hospital to break the news to my momma that my sister had passed away.

3.      In just 5 minutes a day my parents impressed upon me that I was smart enough to rule the world.

4.      Yet, it took less than 5 minutes for a six-grade teacher on my first day in middle school to declare that her goal that year was to, “Cut me down to size.”

5.      In less than 5 minutes my husband asked me to marry him.

6.      It took less than 5 minutes for my brother to tell me he had cancer.

7.      In 5 minutes the Nyack Admissions counselor said, “Congratulations! You’ve been accepted.”

8.      Less than 5 minutes for my children to say, “We’re so proud of you!”

9.      For 5 early morning minutes each day my husband and I connect with the Living God for a brief prayer as we release the day, our children, our parents and our responsibilities over to His will.

10.  A five-minute phone call from my daughter, Crystal, is all it took to cheer me up and fortify me to write that next paper.

11.  A five-minute after school conversation with my son, Michael, when he told me that his friends think I am the smartest person they know, is all it took to keep me studying for the next class.

12.  Those 5 minutes invitations to lunch from my son, Andrew, reminded me that my actions affect more than just me.

13.  At the end of my day, I reach over to the glass heart jar that my daughter, Leah, has filled with slips of paper that have kind expressions of her love for me written on them. It takes less than 5 minutes to be reminded that I am blessed to have her.

14.  A five-minute phone call from my mother-in-law offering gracious words and a helping heart taught me that I am not alone.

15.  It took less than 5 minutes to walk to the mail box only to find another encouraging card from my mother, with her words, “I’m so proud of you!” and “You can do it!”

16.  A less-than-5-minute elevator ride after class with Professor Hairston was all it took for him to encourage me that I was worth the investment of graduate school.

17.  In about 5 minutes a day- every day- for the last six years, my husband Sean has told me that he loved me, that I was worth investing the money for college in and that God had great plans for my life.

 

Sherrie’s right. A lot has been said in less than 5 minutes. Welcome words and wounding words. Words that heal and words that hurt. Our lives really are lived just 5 minutes at a time, aren’t they? 

 

 “Aren’t you the prettiest thing?”

 “ You’re so stupid!”

“You can do it!”

 “You’ll never make it.”

 

And I would leave us with this question, Class of 2004: what will we choose to say in each of our 5 minutes? Will we choose to speak blessings or curses? Truth or lies? Words  that build or words that break down? Sherrie’s right. A lot has been said in less than 5 minutes. A lot can be said in 5 minutes. We may be few in a sea of billions, but our words – our actions – are our own to choose.

 

I would like to close with these words from poet Bonaro Overstreet who said,

 

You say the little efforts that I make

will do no good: they never will prevail

to tip the hovering scale

where Justice hangs in balance.

I don’t think

I ever thought they would.

But I am prejudiced beyond debate

in favor of my right to choose which side

shall feel the stubborn ounces of my weight.

 

Thank You.

4:36:48 PM  #

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Many ways to say, "I Love You, Lord."

I've come to think of our community group as a rather ecumenical group. Even though Sean and i came to this group by way of a non-denominational post-modernish church, our weekly Wednesday evening activities have been samplings of denominational activities. Take for example a week ago Wednesday when we enjoyed the quiet reflection of a Quaker Simple Meal together. This one evening alone together (hmm...together alone?) made me seriously consider a life in the Bruderhof (but the headscarf would probably over-emphasize my already boney face...)

Then last Wednesday one of the couples hosted a Messianic Passover Seder, complete with an "indoor" tent made out of bedsheets tied to the ceiling fan under which there were an ample supply of couch cushions and blankets upon which all 27 of us managed to "recline." (The fourth question makes more sense this way...). Well, all day yesterday I felt compelled to join the Hora Team in the local Messianic Congregation! (La-la-la-la-la...)

Hmm...maybe I  should  invest in my own personal incense swinger in anticipation of next week's look into the Common Book of Prayer...do you think they sell those at Michael's? Maybe in the garden section...

11:21:01 AM  #

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God's Love is a Tapestry

One of the poets at our women's retreat was a gift of a gal named Lori Martin.

In reflecting on this year's theme, "Woven Together in a Tapestry of God's Love," she crafted this:

God’s Love is a Tapestry

 I was thinking

what is “tapestry”

anyway?

What do I know

about weaving?

How can this metaphor

speak to my mind?

 

And then I thought:

tapestry  is just fabric, right?

Fabric – cloth – textiles

which surrounds me always.

Look here: carpet, curtains, upholstery, clothes…

I am enveloped in the stuff!

And never even notice it, really.

 

And then I thought

I do not rightly value TAPESTRY

Because I am in this culture

Of affluent self-sufficiency

Of Walmart mass production.

I walk into Target (consumer conscience,

soothes my guilt about the rights of workers)

and purchase, for the price of a Happy Meal,

a shirt – and think nothing of it.

My money clothes me,

it provides all my needs,

I, with my money, am self-sufficient,

and am in need of nothing.

If I want a tapestry, I go and buy it

from the Museum Store,

and THINK NOTHING OF IT.

(This is precisely the problem.)

 

And then I thought

WHAT IF

everything I have

in my closets and attic

and house and life,

every stitch and thread

every square inch of cloth

that I did not make myself –

 

(I mean MAKE as in

gathering fibers from

thorny plants or sheep

and washing them,

and dying them,

and combing them out

and twisting them,

spinning them into thread

and taking spools of thread

to a loom and stringing them

into a weft and a warp,

and weaving the threads

into cloth and cutting

the cloth into pieces and

stitching the pieces together)

 

What if everything

that I did not make

all by myself

from scratch

was taken from me?

 

My purchasing power

becomes meaningless

when faced with truly

providing my needs.

 

And now I think:

I have been believing a lie!

I have walked in pride, blind

Unable to see that I am wholly dependant

on my money, and on people

who have all of these skills

to gather and spin

and weave and sew

and everything else.

That if everything

That I did not make myself

Was taken from me

I would be naked, wholly destitute,

Crawling like Nebuchadnezzar

(read Daniel chapter 4 sometime)

unable to help myself in any way.

In my reliance on wealth and affluence,

I desperately need the hands of others

to cover my nakedness,

to shelter my body,

to provide the fabric of my life.

 

And this is the Truth.

I am naked, and ashamed.

I am cold, sunburned, exposed,

and I am incapable of doing anything about it.

 

But God

 

Has woven a Tapestry of Love.

 

This love of God is merciful to the needy.

Before God, I drop all of the things

I think I have made for myself,

And stand before the Maker wholly unmade,

with nothing, as nothing.

 

And God

with gentle hands

skillfully works a process

of long meticulous repetitions

with an eye for color and pattern

for symmetry and surprise.

God endures the pricks of thorns and needles,

shed blood and calloused fingers,

shoulders strong from holding me close

for hours, for days and years and decades

weaving a lifetime, observing every stitch,

making from miniscule fibers,

spiraled together, a whole thread,

from threads bound up, a yarn,

from thick yarns, spooled, chosen, placed,

a weft threaded long and wide,

a warp passed under, over,

many yarns at once in a tangle of detail,

or a long working with only one,

making from all of these

a thing of richness and beauty

A Tapestry, in which a picture slowly emerges,

A story told in the time it takes to live it.

 

And now I see:

This is the Tapestry God weaves

This is Love, the work of great worth

The difficult thing

that I can not do for myself

that I hardly even appreciate or understand,

and yet that I need so desperately.

 

And I pray, Oh God,

I am naked, and you clothe me.

I am nothing, and you make me.

Oh God, weave your tapestry of love. (copyright @2004 Lori Martin)

 

 

 

 

7:55:08 PM  #

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THOUGHT:  The theologian “is accountable as a citizen of the world to the wider human community with its questions, concerns and ways of thinking…[and] has…a public accountability to address issues of general human concern” (Hart, Faith Thinking, p.104).

WORD: "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltimess be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven." (Matthew 5: 13-16 NRSV)

DEED: It is not like me, Lord, to think of myself as “a citizen of the world.” I feel like an alien and stranger (1 Peter 2:11)…no, I thrive on my identity as an alien…how am I accountable for the terrible things they are doing to their world, right?

Oh, Father, forgive me. I want to be perceived as a caring person, yet I often choose to care only when the public applauds, and find caring in secret arduous…unrewarding, cumbersome. I blog to find the public accountability that I desperately crave, all the while scheming to be relieved of its burden. Sometimes my longings for the eschaton – that great getting’ up mornin’… that ultimate consummation – are so intense I can barely breathe, let alone pray. I jealously gaze at Bernini’s marble image of my sister, Teresa...ethereal and other-worldly, not concrete and ugly-worldly.

            What kind of a theologian can I become? I, who barely gives a damn about my neighborhood, never mind my world. Oh, God, how can you use me?

What are the choices in obedience but to obey or not?  What is this constant calling that daily breaks my heart and my will?

 

7:34:10 AM  #

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Hope in God's Mercy

Lord, when I remember who I am and what I’ve done, I can barely whisper, let alone cry to You.  Because You have loved me and forgiven me, I want to honor You. Yet I continually struggle to understand what this “honoring” means. And I find myself so impatient, Lord, that to wait for You and to compel my soul to wait -to be still- and to trust in You and hope in Your Word…are beyond my limitations. I can’t do these things. Oh, Redeemer of Israel, please do these things in me.

Walking wounded,

Broken hearted,

I confess, I’ve fallen once again.

You are patient and forgiving,

And Your love is never-ending,

I am weak, and yet You hear me call.

Recover me

That I may be

A life that’s worth giving,

Worth living for.

And may I find,

Your touch is kind.

A love that’s pure healing,

Truth revealing and free.

Recover me.

 

            In this autumn season, while death falls all around and the promise of a cold, bleak winter is upon me, Jesus, I call out for Your mercy and the promise of Your Springtime in my life. Hope is not found in what I can see, but in You, whom I know. And so I wait for You. I choose to wait for You. Lord, help me to wait for You.

9:55:47 AM  #

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A Call and a Journey

Abram was in Haran, but where exactly was he when You spoke to him? Was he counting livestock in the fields? Was he at home resting? Did You speak to him in a dream? Was Abram frightened when You spoke? This was almost 300 years after the flood. Who taught Abram about You? Did Shem pass down the account of the flood in such a way that his descendants kept the faith? I barely know the names of my ancestors only four generations back and this was nine generations later!

            Abram was 75 years old when You spoke these things to him. How shocking this would be today! We think of 65 as the age of retirement, not of new beginnings! Lord, I want to see new possibilities in my older years and even in the lives of my parents, not yet 75 years old themselves.

            And, Lord, Abram was so good at letting go, moving on and trusting You. He built an altar at the oak of Moreh, but then he moved on. He built another altar to You between Ai and Bethel, but then he moved on. Lord, I want this open-handed faith. I want to hear You, look up and remember to worship You and thank You for the blessings, yet still be able to move on.

            Lord, how did You show Abram the land that You had for him? Did You use signs or an audible voice? How did Abram know how to hear You? Why was he so confident that it was You? Lord, make me this confident. Oh, Lord, bring my faith to this place.

            I wonder, Lord, did Your voice feel to Abram like the passionate compulsion to obey planted in my own heart? Oh, Lord, I want to be this quick to move when You speak.

10:14:27 AM  #

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Morning Watch

I see myself once again broken and vulnerable before You. And i am coming to ask for miracles - not because i am worthy but because You are able and You tell me to ask.

The woman with the issue of blood could reach out and physically touch You - i am jealous. I want to do the same. I want to know Your presence, Your healing power in the same way.

The Canaanite woman came to You, saw Your face, looked into Your eyes and asked for deliverance for her daughter. And seeing who she was, You gave it anyway. See me, Lord. Recognizing me, answer me anyway.

The woman at the well saw You. She heard You: You spoke to her heart. Speak to mine, Lord. Give me the water of life that i may thirst no more.

The adulterous woman that they dragged naked and threw at Your feet? You, with a Word, chased off her accusers. Chase mine away, Lord. Empower me to "go and sin no more."

You appeared to Mary Magdalene first, the one You delivered and a woman no less. I am a woman whom You have delivered from many personal demons. Lord, appear to me.

 

 

 

2:26:33 PM  #

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Let it Rain

The thunder and lightning last evening was followed by an intense rain...the kind that makes you stop and listen in awe.

"Listening," according to Dr. Alfred A. Tamotis, "is nothing less than our 'royal route' to the divine. It is also something very few of us do well" (Campbell, Music: Physician for Times to Come, 1993).

We've had a lot of rain lately...it can get pretty depressing. But it can, if we listen, be very inspiring. To quote Lord Byron,

There's music in the sighing of the reed;
There's music in the gushing of the rill;
There's music in all things if men had ears.
(Don Juan)

To quote Jesus, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." Mark 4:9

12:07:58 AM  #

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Job Suite

THOUGHT: "The imagination enlarges little objects so as to fill our souls with a fantastic estimate; and, with rash insolence, it belittles the great to its own measure, as when talking of God" (Blaise Pascal, Pensees #84).

WORD: "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?...Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? Anyone who argues with God must respond." (Holy Bible: NRSV, Job 38:4 and 40:2) read this amazing story...

DEED: "God forbid, that I find you so familiar that I think of You as less than who You are..."

Lord, teach me reverence. Restore a sense of awe in my life. Let me marvel over Your ways...Your wonders...and today, Lord, may my heart truly bow to You in humble worship. Amen.

8:18:12 AM  #

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SOCIAL CAPITAL

THOUGHT:

According to Cohen and Prusak, in their book In Good Company. How social capital makes organizations work (2001):

"Social capital consists of the stock of active connections among people: the trust, mutual understanding, and shared values and behaviors that bind the members of human networks and communities and make cooperative action possible. "

Hmm...reminds me of that early investment made by the first disciples:

WORD:

"Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold." Acts 4: 32-34

DEED:

"There was not a needy person among them...?!?...no one claimed private ownership ?!?"

In the immortal word of the little guy with the brains in Princess Bride, "Inconceivable!"

Or perhaps, it's so rich...so what we really long for...can i be one of those?...one who willingly invests all that she claims to own privately- her time, her love, her stuff - in a fabric so fine, a world so want-free, this social capital of the saints? Dare i become...a true disciple of the Christ?

8:30:29 AM  #

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