Have you had your dose of awe and wonder today? Some are taking up the challenge though others tell me they just don’t have time for it. (how sad is that).
So to whet your appetite here are a couple of responses I have received this week.
Su Bowman sent in the photo above with the comment “I love the fragility of these sumptuous tulips, flouncing their glory in the sun”
And here is a beautiful poem by Carol Dixon.
Floral Tribute
Can flowers speak?
They spoke to me
in church at Passiontide.
From an earthen vase
on a table of light wood,
carved with the words:
‘Do this in remembrance of me’
I heard the purple irises’
spear-shaped petals
whispering of the sacrifice
of our dying Lord;
the crowding greenery
– like prickly privet bristles –
cry of his crown of thorns;
and, underneath them all,
in humble joy, the bursting,
golden daffodils’ resurrection
trumpets, radiantly announcing
that life lives on, through death.
© Carol Dixon
And my favorite from the week
Lilac flowering
by Christine Sine
I am getting ready for the Inhabit conference this weekend. I am looking forward to seeing friends and making new ones. I am also looking forward to my workshop on awe and wonder. Some of it is familiar, the awe and wonder we anticipate when we get out into the beauty of nature. But I will also talk about a different type of awe and wonder. Many of the participants of this conference work with the houseless, the unemployed and the working poor. They struggle to make ends meet in challenging situations. Nature has little place in their environments yet there is still much to inspire us with awe.
How do we open ourselves to the awe and wonder of urban neighborhoods and houseless settlements under the freeway? Again Father Greg Boyle helps us gain the right perspective.
Standing in the margins with the broken reminds us not of our won superiority but of our own brokenness. Awe is the great leveler. The embrace of our own suffering helps us land on a spiritual intimacy with ourselves and others. For if we don’t welcome our own wounds we will be tempted to despise the wounded.
So how do we open ourselves to this type of awe?
First we need to slow down and take notice. Most of us hurry through our neighborhoods, intent on where we are going rather than where we are. Slowing down and giving ourselves permission to savor everything we see, hear and touch is an important step towards appreciating its awe. Suddenly we notice the gardens in a broken pavement and the beauty of dandelions in an abandoned lot. Then our eyes shift to the faces of strangers who pass us in the street. They too make us gasp in awe as we catch glimpses of the image of God in them.
Second we need to make space for silence. We don’t just hurry through life, we also go noisily through life, constantly making noise or listening to it. Taking time to enter the silence in which God can speak to us about where we live and what we need to take notice of is hard, yet necessary if we really want to see our surroundings as God does.
Third we need to take notice of the small and beautiful things. Awe can be triggered by an unexpected smile, a helping hand on the bus, graffiti on the wall. Giving ourselves permission to notice these things is a rare and precious gift.
Mural Beacon NY
Fourth we should seek out what gives us goosebumps. I recently walked around the township of Beacon New York. It is where Tom’s family live and I have always enjoyed walking the streets. However what I most look forward to are the murals – from the famous “man with no face” to the mermaid/Hudson River image, their beauty and the story they tell never ceases to inspire me. This year there were some new ones that caught my attention and filled me with awe.
Fifth see the world differently. Walk around your neighborhood with a houseless person, with someone from another culture or with a child. They will notice things you never see and have perspectives very different from your own. They will open your eyes to marvel at aspects of your community that you take for granted.
What Is Your response
I encourage you to take time this week to enter into the awe not just of God’s created world but of the communities in which you live as well. Take your camera and a companion with you. What do you notice? What inspires you? Take time to journal about your responses.
by Christine Sine
A daily dose of awe and wonder makes us more compassionate and caring people. Unfortunately the research suggests that we live in an awe deprived world. So what can we read to help us? Here is a list of the books I found most helpful when working on my book The Gift of Wonder.
Christine Aroney-Sine, To Garden With God
_____________ The Gift of Wonder
Greg Boyle, Barking to the Choir: The Power of Radical Kinship
Hans Urs von Balthasar, Unless You Become Like This Child
Matthew Fox, Creativity: Where the Divine and Human Meet
Judy Brown Hull, When You Receive a Child: Reflections on Luke 9:46-48
Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World
John Medina, Brain Rules for Aging Well: 10 Principles for Staying Vital, Happy and Sharp
Sybil McBeth, Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God
John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
________________ Walking in Wonder: Eternal Wisdom for a Modern World
Christine Valters Paintner, Lectio Divina; The Sacred Art
__________ Eyes of the Heart: Photography as a Spiritual Practice
Joyce Rupp, The Cup of Life: A Guide to Spiritual Growth
Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are
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by Christine Sine
Have you had your awe and wonder sighting for today? If not it’s time to go out and take notice. Last week I commented: “Our daily experience of life, God and God’s world are meant to inspire us with awe and wonder. Our failure to notice the miracles around us is a failure of the spirit as well as the senses.” And today is Earth Day, a fitting celebration for the day after Easter and a great way to begin our awe and wonder challenge.
This is the season for noticing and responding in awe to the presence of Jesus in us, and around us, not just in people we meet but in the creation as well. Jesus is constantly appearing in our midst but we rarely seem to take notice.
My Senses Are Awakened to Read God’s Presence.
In The Gift of Wonder, I talk about the practice of Lectio Tierra, a great way to attune our senses to the wonder of God. This practice is similar to Lectio Divina from which it is adapted. As I wander through the forest, brush against my lavender or listen to the music of water cascading over rocks, my senses are awakened to”read” God’s presence. Anything that catches my attention and shimmers with the presence of God provides fuel for reflection.
My eyes are drawn to the gnarled and twisted branches of my ancient sage bush. I stop, look and listen, not forcing a revelation but waiting in silence for God to nudge me. I reach out and pick a leaf, and gasp in awe at the fragrance that clings to my fingers. What story does it hold I wonder? How might it speak to me of God?
Now I Meditate
Now I meditate. I crush the leaf between my fingers and am transported back in time. Sage has a very long and rich history due to both its medicinal and culinary uses. At one time, the French produced bountiful crops of sage for tea. Ironically the Chinese became enamored with French sage tea, and would trade four pounds of Chinese tea for every one pound of sage tea. The Romans considered it had healing properties and for native Americans it is an important ceremonial plant, used by many tribes as an incense and purifying herb. I know it best for its culinary properties. I love to use it when I roast chicken or make vegetable soup.
It is possible that the burning bush in Exodus 3 is sage I remember. Should I like Moses take off my shoes as I meditate and acknowledge that in the presence of this small part of God’s creation I stand on holy ground?
I Pray
Now I pray. I thank God for this gift to so many cultures across the globe and throughout time and am reminded of Revelation 8:4 “The smoke of the incense mixed with the prayers of God’s people and billowed up before God.” I thank God for the fragrance that clings to me, and for the incense that rises from my life as I too am crushed and prepared for use. Perhaps others will brush against me and be awed by the incense of God in my life. Perhaps others will seek me out to add to their lives and savor who they are with the presence of God. I hope that my fragrance and flavor will continue to cling to others and be shared with all that I meet.
Lastly I contemplate
The last step is contemplation. I pause, running my hands over the fragrant fragments in my hand. I look around at the other plants in my garden. Some are greening after a long winter’s rest. Others are in bloom vibrant with color and fragrant with their own perfume.I am not alone. Incense rises to God from every part of this garden. I breathe in and absorb the insights God has given me that enable me to move into a place of rest and peace. I can receive love, healing and grace from God, together with those around me, and with the witnesses of every tribe and nation that have gone before me. I feel at one with God’s world and will all that help me move towards God’s wholeness.
I finish with this Ute prayer that I found many years ago and my heart overflows with thanksgiving
Earth Teach Me to Remember
Earth teach me stillness
as the grasses are stilled with light.
Earth teach me suffering
as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility
as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth Teach me caring
as the mother who secures her young.
Earth teach me courage
as the tree which stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation
as the ant which crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom
as the eagle which soars in the sky.
Earth teach me resignation
as the leaves which die in the fall.
Earth teach me regeneration
as the seed which rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself
as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness
as dry fields weep in the rain.
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by Christine Sine
Christ is risen, he is risen indeed!
The power of God for life and resurrection is amazing. I stand in awe and wonder, that not only did Christ rise two thousand years ago, but he still stands in our midst bringing healing, reconciliation and flourishing to all who will receive it.
by Christine Sine
A few years ago we attended a Good Friday Tenebrae service at our church. It was a very moving service of readings from those who have walked before us as well as from scripture. We started with the sanctuary alive with light and ended with it in darkness except for the Christ candle which stood at the foot of the cross.
I was reminded of the service as I reflected on this broken image of Jesus today. Jesus body was broken and all seemed lost. Imagine how hard Saturday must have been for the disciples just as it is hard for us to live in the valley where hope seems lost and the world seems untouched by the promises of God. We mourn too for broken hopes and promises. All seems to be in darkness but out of brokenness can come new life.
Here are the readings that most impacted me.
It is in the darkness, when there is nothing left in us that can please or comfort our minds, when we seem to be useless and worthy of all contempt, when we seem to have failed, when we seem to be destroyed and devoured, it is then that the deep and secret selfishness that is too close to us for us to identify is stripped away from our souls. It is in this darkness that we find liberty. It is in this abandonment that we are made strong. This is the night which empties us and makes us pure. (Thomas Merton)
To each one of us Christ is saying: If you want your life and mission to be fruitful, like mine, do as I do. Be converted into a seed that lets itself be buried. Let yourself be killed. Do not be afraid. Those who shun suffering will remain alone. No one is more alone than the selfish. But if you give your life out of love for others, as I give mine for all, you will reap a great harvest. (Oscar Romero)
This is the night which empties us and makes us whole.
Out of my reflections on this service came this poem:
Today we mourn.
For promises unfulfilled
for wholeness unrealized
for brokenness still afflicting.
Today there is only darkness.
Our hopes are buried
our longings shrouded
our desires entombed.
Today the grave engulfs us.
We walk in hell
empty, stripped of life
no light only darkness.
Today God seems to have failed.
Yet here we find freedom
Between death and resurrection
This is the night which empties us
and makes us whole.
By Catherine Lawton —
We grieve when snow falls
on Good Friday eve.
What about the greening,
the beginnings of spring? when
like manna fallen from Heaven–
“My body broken for you” into
flakes and crumbs–
soft, pure-white flesh
spread upon all that lies
both dormant and sprouting,
at morn reflects the rising sun;
except in rockiest places,
saturates fallow and seeded,
both broken and wasted ground.
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