Keeping the Dream

You know, I never really understood why God had to rest after creating the world, or how God could possibly be tired. But I like the story of God resting on the 7th day.

I’ve grown to a deeper appreciation for what it means to rest than just a day off. Most of us don’t rest on our days off anyway. They’re just periods of time when we feel compelled to shove more stuff into the little space we’re given - errands to run, activities to do or the intake of passive electronic stimuli, television.

Resting is about restoring, but it’s more than just shoring up depleted energy. That’s one meaning, and is really significant for us humans, and one of which I’m more mindful of these days. But rest, also, is a state of sitting still. It’s being in the present moment.

I don’t know what this means for God, but I do know what significance it has for me, as I sit here on my porch on this fall day.

In this restful moment, I hear a blackbird cawing from a nearby tree. Not far away a songbird sings an entirely different melody. My morning glories are looking at me, their big green heart-shaped leaves trembling ever so slightly with the subtle breezes. In between the needled and broad green of pine and maple, I see puffs of clouds, gently glide across the face of the sky. The leaves have not turned yet. Not in my yard, but they are thinking about it.

I move too fast. We all do.

The other day I took my dog for a walk, and we passed by under a tree. As we walked into its shade, I stopped and wondered how I must look to it. Reaching out to touch a limb, I got a sense of almost amusement. I couldn’t help but wonder how we humans appeared to the tree, if we appeared as those busy little gnats that buzz about so fast, that if they don’t get gobbled up by some bird, would, in all likelihood, burn out.

If I had not taken this moment on this day to just sit here on my porch, and drink my tea, I would have missed all this, the subtleties of the day. Hurrying from house to car, my mind would already be far down the dirt lane before I even backed my car out of its parking space.

It’s good to take an appointed time for rest. Every moment we stop and be still, is a sabbath moment. Which reminds me of another Bible verse that I like, “Be still and know that I am God.”

That’s what makes the sabbath holy. Not the day on the calendar, but the manner in which we approach and experience creation. Any moment can be our 7th day, when we still ourselves long enough to recognize the holiness of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Be Notified of New Posts

Subscribe to Keeping the Dream by Email

The other night, my little girl wanted to light the incense and send prayers. So she went to the little altar I have of a meditating Buddha, a gift from my oldest daughter, and childhood pictures of my children, my nephew, my sister and brother and I. On the wall hangs a painting of Jesus, the father of my oldest two had given me.

She arranged the candles, placed the incense on its holder in the Buddha’s hands, and placed a small bowl of food and wine glass of water to honor the ancestors. Then she stepped into an Asian dress of mine, put on the Japanese earrings and necklace of my youth. Taking my hand to stand beside her, she asked I light the candles and incense. I did so.

I said an opening line or two, addressing the Spirit of God and Brother Buddha. But Brhiannon wanted to speak the words of prayer and so I became silent.

She started by addressing “Mother Buddha”. I was touched by how free she was from constraint, those neat little boxes we place ourselves and our beliefs in. Just as Jesus taught, she worshiped in spirit, being confined not by gender or outwardly appearance, she went straight to the heart of what religion is about.

She prayed her beautiful child prayer, which made it the most powerful prayer of all. But what really moved me, touched me so that I knew in this moment I really was standing on sacred ground, was when she blessed her family and said, “We sacredly love all the people in the pictures.”

“We sacredly love…”

How many of us selfishly love, longingly love, hopelessly love, desperately love, controllingly love, jealously love, fearfully love, obligingly love, demandingly love, hopefully love, narcissistically love, delusionally love?

Even to motherly love or fatherly love or brotherly/sisterly love does not go to that place of pure holiness when we sacredly love.

To sacredly love honors the whole being, both yours and the beloved. It is a beautiful understanding of the opening of the Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father”, a beholding of its meaning in what we see in another. It becomes a pure act of worship, giving praise to life in all its wonderful manifestations, which in this moment is manifesting as the one you love…and as the one who is doing the loving.

To sacredly love…

It almost sounds like a prayer in itself, something that should be spoken with reverence on a breath of a whisper.

Everything shifted for me in that moment. I no longer saw the altar as a cabinet top with candles and incense, the pictures or statue or painting that hung on the wall. I looked at my little girl and saw a living altar, that temple within where God dwells.

In this little body next to mine, with eyes closed and a look of serene peace upon her face, I got a glimpse of heaven, and knew without a doubt that angels exist. I turned toward her and with hands together in prayer, bowed.

I was at the post office earlier today, cleaning out my post office box. I never get there are often as I should. As usual, I was throwing small town newspaper after small town newspaper into the trash bin they have for that purpose. Just as a matter of course, I asked the post office employee did they recycle these. I had always assumed they did.

She said, “Oh, no.”

“You just take them to the landfill?”

“Yeah, they just get thrown out…they burn them there, don’t they?” Like that was an environmentally friendly alternative.

“Well, yeah, but the carbon emissions aren’t good for the atmosphere.”

“Oh, well, there’s too much damage. There’s nothing that can be done to turn things around until Jesus comes and creates a new world, right?”

I was stunned, “Well…yeah…” - religion wasn’t the issue here, I just wanted to follow her line of thinking - “But that still doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be responsible while we’re waiting.”

“Well, we don’t have recycling here…am I supposed to take them?”

Thinking of the recycles I take to dispose of, I said, “I do, I take mine.”

“We only work eight hours here…”

I kept the papers I would have thrown out, and took them with me.

She is the nicest lady ever. I really like her. She wasn’t being mean. That’s what scared me.

This isn’t about whether I think employees should go the extra mile to recycle if their township or place of employment doesn’t care to address recycling. It was her reliance of her religion to take care of everything as a justification for doing nothing, as a reason to keep on polluting the environment and mindlessly using up our resources that really amazed me and sent a chill down my spine.

Didn’t Jesus say something about stewardship? Aren’t we supposed to mind the store while the master is out? Is there anywhere in the Bible that says we can just trash the earth, because God is going to clean up after us when he gets here?

So what is he? Some Divine Janitor?

There’s too much damage…maybe. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying or give us leave to contribute more to the waste and toxins that have already caused damage. God help us that we never have that attitude toward our fellow human beings who are dying from what we would call an incurable disease.

“Well, you’re already in the last stages of lung cancer, so I’ll just sit here and blow cigarette smoke in your face, because Jesus will give you a new body anyway, after you pass away.”

That’s outrageous. No one with any decency would do that, and the first person who would be loving and giving to this one, would be that sweet postal worker.

But how important, also, is it to give that same compassion and responsibility to the Earth? And how sad and frightening to use the sad state of the Earth’s environmental health to continue making it sick, because we believe a Great Physician will fill the right prescription for our irresponsibility.

So what will we do until Jesus comes? And what will we do if we believe he never will? The bottom line is how responsible do we choose to be, right here, right now in this moment? Because no matter who you believe you will be accountable to, we all are going to have to face the music, sooner or later, for how we treat the Earth.

…you will not see what lies ahead.”

I saw “Ratatouille” last night with my little girl, and loved it. I love any story about being true to yourself, finding your creativity, living an authentic life and making a difference.

There was one quote that just jumped out at me, and I found myself repeating it throughout the movie so I wouldn’t forget it. It might not be exact word for word, but the meaning is what struck me.

If you are focused on what you left behind, you will not see what lies ahead.”

And that’s when I realized from the mouth of a figment of an animated rat’s imagination that that’s what I had been doing. I made choices in my past that changed my relationship with my children forever. There was no going back, no trying to recapture. There is only being accountable for my actions, feeling the grief and letting go. In that moment, I knew I would do just that. “Okay” I said. And I felt a sense of peace.

Spiritual insight can come from anywhere. You just have to be ready for it, to be aware enough to recognize it when it speaks to you.

It’s funny, the other day my daughter and I spotted three hawks within one afternoon, and I told her according to some native traditions, the hawk represented a message from Great Spirit. So I told her to be on the lookout for anything that may be particularly meaningful to her.

She asked me what would the message be. I said that was different for each person. She asked how it would come. I said that, too, was different. It could reveal itself to you through the dance of light on leaves or whisper through the breath of wonder as the sun sets. It could shout at you straight from the radio or spell itself out in black and white in ink on paper. It could speak to you through the lips of a loved one or stranger.

The invitation is to be aware, to let yourself be taught by something in your reality and to feel the love that reaches through it to you.

As we walked out of the theater, I turned on my cell phone, and received a voice mail notice. I checked it and heard the voice of someone I hold in very high regard, someone very special to me I haven’t seen in 16 years, except for a brief moment after a show 14 years ago.

You know, you never know who will be standing on the other side of the door when let yourself open it.

I dream of a Middle East with children laughing in the streets