Return to the center….peel back the layers to reveal the core of this fruit of life…which has so much to teach in every bite.
It was like that yesterday- time and space moving so quickly that I barely had time to notice and understand- the emotions beneath the emotions, the particular flicker of every image that flashed through my peripheral vision.
Only later, did it come back- beneath a layer of my ordinary frustrations, a man reaching out his hand to shake mine, and I, reaching back, apologizing for my dirt-covered hand. "That's ok, my hands are dirty too," he responded. I asked him his name; it was Anthony. We all introduced ourselves- me, my children, and a few others from my congregation. Anthony had seen us planting flowers in front of the Hope Center in the city of Newburgh and had stopped by to say hello- and to ask about worms in the dirt he might use for fishing. We had come there earlier with a Welcome Sign for the homeless drop-in center, a sign the Religious Exploration class children had made. We had come to light our chalice and sing songs in the parlor. And we had come to plant flowers- our seeds of hope- for this new thing we might be making- new possibilities of extending love beyond our doors, new relationships, new connections.
It was just a beginning… but if my congregation's chalice has been lit in places off the hilltop (or outside of a church building) before, I do not know it. Perhaps in homes for small group gatherings, especially when we were desert-wandering in the years after a devastating fire, but a gathering in the inner city of Newburgh may be the first.
I did not feel as hopeful yesterday… our small number, my children's misbehavior during the short service, and the difficult hurried pace of the day before and after left me frayed and vulnerable. I was worried this did not matter. I was worried I did not matter. I was worried efforts would be futile and foolish. But the sign and the flowers and the chalice did matter... all the people eating soup and playing cards at tables applauded as we unfurled the colorful sign, like all of us providing welcome for one another. A woman slept curled in the corner, as we hung the sign on the back wall above her, a sign that she too was welcome.
We could have waited, spent more time planning and promoting to bring more UU folks in… but I have been in more than enough meetings to last a lifetime, and now the call is to move beyond- in the spirit of prayer- to worship and to serve. To allow the Spirit to lead us to unexpected places. Places where my dirty hands meet other dirty hands and relationship happens from the ground up.
So, there was grace. And love. I recall "Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love." The truth is when I look for God, I most often find him in those intimate moments between people- on the road to Emmaus, in the conversation between friends, in the dirty hands.
--
It was almost two years ago that I first visited the Hope Center. I was seeking a spiritual director at a crossroads in my life- I was letting go, learning to embrace change, and feeling the longing to live more deeply from contemplation into call. It was the beginning of my journey to become a spiritual director. At that time, after a walk in the woods, I reached out to the Hope Center for my own direction… it began with monthly meetings with my director… and led one-by one to more connections between people. It was like tilling the soil beneath a tree to see an entire tangled, interconnected root system. And it is this system of connections which allows the tree to grow.
And so in the midst of another seemingly frustrating day- I have to step back and again get over myself, get over my expectations of how I want things to be, and get over my rush to see things grow. Because already growing beneath the soil are things that cannot be seen, and nurturing grace already abounding.
It's not about me…and what I am planning to do. It's about trust and following. It's about slowing down and returning to the center, to the seed of God growing within. And it's about reaching out my hand- our hands- our dirt-stained hands- in love.
--
Connections, Marge Piercy
Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.
You cannot always tell by looking at what is happening
More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.
Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden
Gnaw in the dark, and use the sun to make sugar.
Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.
Live a life you can endure: make life that is loving.
Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in, a thicket and bramble
wilderness to the outside but to us it is interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always.
For every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting, after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.
It was like that yesterday- time and space moving so quickly that I barely had time to notice and understand- the emotions beneath the emotions, the particular flicker of every image that flashed through my peripheral vision.
Only later, did it come back- beneath a layer of my ordinary frustrations, a man reaching out his hand to shake mine, and I, reaching back, apologizing for my dirt-covered hand. "That's ok, my hands are dirty too," he responded. I asked him his name; it was Anthony. We all introduced ourselves- me, my children, and a few others from my congregation. Anthony had seen us planting flowers in front of the Hope Center in the city of Newburgh and had stopped by to say hello- and to ask about worms in the dirt he might use for fishing. We had come there earlier with a Welcome Sign for the homeless drop-in center, a sign the Religious Exploration class children had made. We had come to light our chalice and sing songs in the parlor. And we had come to plant flowers- our seeds of hope- for this new thing we might be making- new possibilities of extending love beyond our doors, new relationships, new connections.
It was just a beginning… but if my congregation's chalice has been lit in places off the hilltop (or outside of a church building) before, I do not know it. Perhaps in homes for small group gatherings, especially when we were desert-wandering in the years after a devastating fire, but a gathering in the inner city of Newburgh may be the first.
I did not feel as hopeful yesterday… our small number, my children's misbehavior during the short service, and the difficult hurried pace of the day before and after left me frayed and vulnerable. I was worried this did not matter. I was worried I did not matter. I was worried efforts would be futile and foolish. But the sign and the flowers and the chalice did matter... all the people eating soup and playing cards at tables applauded as we unfurled the colorful sign, like all of us providing welcome for one another. A woman slept curled in the corner, as we hung the sign on the back wall above her, a sign that she too was welcome.
We could have waited, spent more time planning and promoting to bring more UU folks in… but I have been in more than enough meetings to last a lifetime, and now the call is to move beyond- in the spirit of prayer- to worship and to serve. To allow the Spirit to lead us to unexpected places. Places where my dirty hands meet other dirty hands and relationship happens from the ground up.
So, there was grace. And love. I recall "Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love." The truth is when I look for God, I most often find him in those intimate moments between people- on the road to Emmaus, in the conversation between friends, in the dirty hands.
--
It was almost two years ago that I first visited the Hope Center. I was seeking a spiritual director at a crossroads in my life- I was letting go, learning to embrace change, and feeling the longing to live more deeply from contemplation into call. It was the beginning of my journey to become a spiritual director. At that time, after a walk in the woods, I reached out to the Hope Center for my own direction… it began with monthly meetings with my director… and led one-by one to more connections between people. It was like tilling the soil beneath a tree to see an entire tangled, interconnected root system. And it is this system of connections which allows the tree to grow.
And so in the midst of another seemingly frustrating day- I have to step back and again get over myself, get over my expectations of how I want things to be, and get over my rush to see things grow. Because already growing beneath the soil are things that cannot be seen, and nurturing grace already abounding.
It's not about me…and what I am planning to do. It's about trust and following. It's about slowing down and returning to the center, to the seed of God growing within. And it's about reaching out my hand- our hands- our dirt-stained hands- in love.
--
Connections, Marge Piercy
Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.
You cannot always tell by looking at what is happening
More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.
Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.
Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.
Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden
Gnaw in the dark, and use the sun to make sugar.
Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.
Live a life you can endure: make life that is loving.
Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in, a thicket and bramble
wilderness to the outside but to us it is interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always.
For every gardener knows that after the digging, after the planting, after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.
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