Snow Labyrinth

This week I had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth in the snow and ice at Heartland Presbyterian Center. Was it dangerous? Possibly. Did that stop me? Of course not. I think it made it all the more thrilling. In fact I think of the Labyrinth as a typically safe place to pray and meet with God, so perhaps my excitement was in my desire to have a more “challenging” or “authentic” trip around the maze, because life has many risks we have to meet as we turn and follow and turn and follow.

This may have been the most complicated pathway I have ever taken, and I’m not just talking about the snow and the ice. Some of the labyrinths I have made are simple. The limit of space limits the number of turns, and therefore limits the chance to get lost as your feet easily know where to go. When the labyrinth is simple, the walker must set the limits and complexity to meet with the Spirit, giving the walker more control.  When the labyrinth is more complex, you don’t always know where you are going or how far you are from the center and it seems to be going around and around without going anywhere until suddenly you find yourself at the center. At several points in this labyrinth I had to ask myself, have I been this way before? I kept going back and forth and really got lost in the focus needed to walk. The snow and ice added an extra challenge. About halfway to the center I came to a crossroads, because I couldn’t tell whether the pathway went straight or turned to the right. My practical sense figured it out, but for the moment I felt this great parallel with life. We may come to a standstill, not knowing, and sometimes we may choose the wrong pathway, or a path that leads us further away from our goal, but we don’t have to wait to meet our goal for an encounter with God. God is there at every turn, God walks beside us, before us and behind us at every straight, clear or blocked pathway. 

I continued to the center, I continued praying and all the while I continued listening.

I heard the Spirit say to me, “You cannot and do not know all things. You may find rest in knowing you are loved by the one who does, and that one who controls all things acts out of deep love and hope for you.”

Whether it’s the state of our nation, the concern for our families, the hopes for our relationships or the day to day goals of making an impact on the world, may you also find rest in the unrelenting love of your Creator. 

Amen.

The One Who Chose Me

Robbie and I truly had a religious experience at Universal Studios, and I say that because I believe the Holy Spirit was there, present with us, sending us words of hope and knowing.  As soon as we arrived in Diagon Alley at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter we went straight to Ollivander’s to get a wand.  We weren’t quite sure what to expect, but inside the shop someone told us we could either select a wand from the shelves or visit the Wandmaker and the wand would choose you.  So, we went to the Wandmaker, of course.  

We waited in a hallway with other people for about ten minutes, and my mind started to wander…”Would they come get us one at a time?  What wood might I expect? What kind of power would I want?  What am I looking for from the wand?”  Hope.  I wanted something to embody hope for new beginnings.  I played around with the idea of unicorn hair, but part of me felt like unicorns were too pretty and happy for the kind of authentic hope I’m looking for.  Then I thought about Harry’s Pheonix feather in his wand.  The pheonix could be a great metaphor for our lives as we have risen with life out of the ashes of death.  Then something inside me thought about the dragons, and their passion and fire, and something struck a chord with me. The love and power of a dragon could display the kind of hope I want.

Suddenly the assistants were leading us down the hallway… “so we’re doing this as a group,” I thought.  We turned a corner and there was the Wandmaker, writing in his book by the dim light of his magical lamp next to him in a room filled with wands all the way up the very tall walls.

I started to step up to him, and one of the assistants pulled me aside.  “Everyone please fill into the room with the shorter people in front, so everyone can see.”

I don’t remember what happened next, but before I knew it, the Wandmaker was looking at me and called me forward to receive my wand.  He measured my arms and talked about character and the many ways a wand would choose you.  I knew he was an actor, but he felt more like a sage wizard.  The room, his voice, the air, it all felt real…so magical.  He pulled out a wand of rosewood and unicorn hair and gave it to me. “Give it a flick,” he said.  Shelves popped out all over the place…just like in the books!!! When Harry was trying out wands!  “No, no, no, that won’t do.”  Then he pulled out a wand of oak with a phoenix feather, “Ok,” I thought, “This could be it.” He asked me to say, “Wingardium leviosa.”  With my best Hermione impression, I waved my wand and said the words. LOUD BANGS, and flickering lights.  “I wonder…” said the Wandmaker….I almost jumped out of my skin. “Here is a wand made of ash wood with dragon heartstrings.”  When I took the wand in my hand the light shone all around me.  It took everything within me not to burst out crying and weeping, because here in my hand was the true embodiment of the strength I desire—the heartstring of fire which rises from the ashes.

I never thought I would own a wand, and yet how many of us are yearning for someone to choose us and offer us a physical and metaphorical gift of meaning in life.  I have chosen and held many instruments in my hand: flutes, conducting batons, kazoos, books, paintbrushes.  This gift feels different.  I know it has no physical power outside of the park, and yet, in my hand I am reminded of the dragon heartstrings that God fixed within my soul.  

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” says the Psalmist about our Maker. I have been chosen by God to do big things, and so have you.  The magic comes when we believe in the Maker’s ability to love us, know us and do marvelous things through us.

Beauty in the Bark

Photo Credit: me. Yep. We went to Florida. So, the next few posts will most likely reveal some of our reflections during our amazing adventure in Orlando. The first "attraction" that struck my curiosity were the varieties of palm trees and palmeados. My knowledge of palm life cycles has become a mix of observation and YouTube videos of palm experts talking about how to grow one at home. What fascinated me was this longing to know why some trees are short and others are crazy tall? Why do some have a full trunk of woven branches and others just have just the top basket? Do they prune themselves or do gardeners pull off the palms to reveal their bark? I wanted to observe them up close so I could paint them, and in the midst of that longing to know more about them, I realized I was actually looking with wonder for my own self growth and “pruning.”  

In my last year of rising strong, I haven’t been sure how to put words together about where I go from what has happened to us.  Moving “forward” or “on” doesn’t seem to fit. I know that roses are more beautiful when pruned, and every challenging experience teaches us and strengthens us, but how do you move on without putting something behind you or letting go of that person you have lost? You can let go of the pain, you can receive forgiveness for your regrets, you can express grace for the shame in your life.   And then what do you do with this fact that God let you fall, you were not protected and you carry yourself differently, feeling a bit more fragile and a lot more tender.

I’ve been looking for an image of wholeness which honors brokenness and tenderness with beauty. I think that’s what drew me to look closer at the palm tree.  What I instinctively noticed as beautifully woven bark was actually broken branches, remaining on the tree. The striking rings on the tallest trees, also show the marks of palms grown and lost.  The beautiful and distinctive trunk reveals the history of the loss of life and broken branches. Like a beautiful tapestry or a growing palm tree, this masterpiece of our personhood continues to change shape and twist, to grow further out and further up, like our ever expanding universe. 

The pain and loss we have endured adds to the beauty and the grit of our character. Our experiences hang on like those broken branches, and we will continue to reach out with new branches, trusting that no matter what life prunes from our tree, the resourceful and imaginative creator will continue to add to our beauty and the Breath of Life will keep us dancing in the wind.