PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH 

There it was, half-hidden by the blanket at the end of my toddler grandson's bed ... a peanut butter sandwich, with three bites taken, evidence of a parent's middle-of-the-night care for a little fellow woken by a 'bad dream'.

The adult hands that made this simple, powerful comfort had  guided him through a day of little/big adventures; had steadied him as he launched himself on a new balance bike; had waited ready to catch him as he determinedly pulled himself to the top of a 3metre rope climbing frame; then had supported his brave move into the big expanse of the lake, and shared the joy, the relief, the on-the-beach ice-cream.  

My grandson experienced - without needing to 'understand' - that love was always there for him and always stronger than his fear. In his life, the parental presence was  trustworthy - day and night. 

Maybe this little snippet of everyday life resonates with you? 

Maybe it's made you wonder whom you trust to bring you comfort and strength?

Maybe it's even made you think  about the equivalent of your   'peanut butter sandwich',  your kete rauemi wairua - your 'spiritual resource kit'- what you can draw on to calm your mind and soothe your soul? 

I know that , whenever anxious thoughts threaten to overwhelm my mind,  I turn to my kete rauemi wairua. It's been a long time in the weaving and gathering but now it holds words of scripture, lines and melodies of a chant or song, precious memories of time with loved ones, and the Jesus prayer * for it is the triune God, the Loving Presence whom I have learned to trust to steady and support me day or night.

Next time you take out the peanut butter jar, perhaps this story will come to mind and with it a reminder of God's love for you in the most ordinary moments of life.

* for more on the Jesus Prayer go to my website: https://partnersonpilgrimage.org and check under Resources 'Loaves and Fishes'

Joy and little ducks 'down under'

 1st January 2022

A new year's resolution  - the only one to be honest - is to do something each day that gives me joy.        Writing gives me joy - so I find myself back on line to share little bits of my life with you from time to time - to make a connection across the miles and minutes as I share the work of grace in my life. 

I have to confess that while writing is a joy-bringer, what would give me even greater joy would be if what I share with you opened a  window through which you might glimpse something of the Loving Presence  [ And a heartfelt thank you to my friend Bruce M. who first brought me the name of Loving Presence as a way of naming God] 

On our walk this morning to Kinloch Marina - Lake Taupo - I noticed a sleeping community of New Zealand scaups - shiny black little ducks with rounded flat beaks and bright yellow eyes - all closed of course as they bobbed up and down, the motion of the lake changing with the wind and the boats moving in and out of the small harbour. 

I started to think - 

I love these little ducks 

They're about a metre apart 

Good at social distancing!

Covid  

Sleeping 

And then I thought about how much sleep has been part of my last two difficult years - sleep to recover from my husband's health challenges and my own burnout, sleep as an alternative to action when action just seemed too hard,  sleep as a form of escape, the early days when sleep was rarely restorative ... 

But then I noticed another duck. 

Entering stage right,  it paddled gently across in front of the sleepers. Its bright eyes were open - wide awake it could see what was going on, could absorb the beauty of the morning and could alert the others to any threat. 

Maybe this little duck was reminding me of the Loving Presence in my life - always there, always ready to guide and encourage whenever I 'wake up' and see what's really around me; the Loving Presence always ready to connect me with neighbours whoever they may be, to remind me that we're in this life together and I'm not alone - 

and nor are you. 

Diary of a pandemic - quarantine - Day 40#

Diary of a pandemic – quarantine - Day 40#  

Quarantine [from the Latin quadraginta meaning 40] first came into widespread use during the Middle Ages when plague ravaged much of Europe. Even then, without the benefit of contemporary science and modelling, there was an awareness that enforcing isolation could benefit the population and slow the spread of disease.

In 2020, the campaign against Covid-19 has been highly visible, with graphs of statistics  showing infections, recoveries, and deaths, and hard-to-believe media images of overwhelmed hospitals in the world’s most developed economies. 

For some the last forty days have brought unimaginable grief as loved ones have succumbed and livelihoods have been lost. For them, lines on graphs don’t ease the devastation.

For the well-resourced with good mental health, the forty days may have provided an unexpected opportunity to express their creativity, spend quality time with family, and enjoy the long overlooked natural environment around them.

But for those of us who entered this forty days already carrying the gathered grief of significant deaths or endings, the accumulation of further losses has added to the invisible inner conflict which, though graced with touches of God’s presence, has been exhausting.

In Christianity the period of forty days has spiritual significance, often indicative of a time of interior struggle and spiritual realignment. In 1 Kings there’s the story of the prophet Elijah and of his determination to uphold the uniqueness of God in the face of widespread Baal worship by the Israelites. Jezebel’s wrath at his victory threatens his life, and so, spiritually and emotionally depleted, he runs away, so overwhelmed by fear that he wants to die. Instead he is sustained by miraculous food,  and goes on in the strength of that food for forty days and nights – time to face his interior ‘demons’ and process his experience, and time to recover physically, emotionally and spiritually. Then he encounters the ‘sound of sheer silence’ and it is as if everything that has gone before fades into the background of his life. God meets Elijah, listens to his story, gives him the way forward and relieves him of his responsibilities. 

In the New Testament, as soon as Jesus has been baptised, full of the Holy Spirit and affirmed as Beloved by his Father, he enters the wilderness for a period of temptation that lasts – you guessed it - forty days and forty nights. In this time he uses the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, as his primary weapon against the seductive lure of avoiding physical suffering, gaining global power and the devilish invitation to do something spectacular that would both test his trust in God and make him a 1st century ‘celebrity’, with prestige that would heap glory upon him at his Father’s expense. 

There is no doubt that this period was a sustained test of the person-hood of Jesus, of his mission, his strength of character, his obedience, his courage and his capacity to listen to God and keep on trusting God to the end.

Because of this forty day tempation, we can take confidence that God is not a distant divinity remote from humanity but, in Jesus, knows the human condition from the inside.

Being afraid like Elijah, being tempted like Jesus may resonate with you as you reflect on this period in 'quarantine'. Whatever it’s been like for you, taking the time to process the gains and losses of these few weeks will strengthen you for the journey ahead, whatever form it takes. Hopefully we will all emerge with a clearer sense of what we truly value and a greater capacity to listen to God's 'still small voice'. 

As Jesus did, let’s put our trust in the One whose faithfulness and steadfast love are everlasting.

Diary of a pandemic: when you can't hold their hand - Day 30#

WHEN YOU CAN'T HOLD THEIR HAND

I'm writing what's on my heart.
I'm taking a risk.

Within the Covid-19 'story' one area of particular anguish relates to the many situations in which people cannot be with their loved ones in their last hours. For many the powerlessness and frustration they feel at the thought of their loved one dying alone, however caring and kind the nursing staff are, adds horribly to the pain of loss and grief.

What I share with you here is not intended to  minimise the enormity of this forced separation from loved ones when everything in you cries out for connection. Instead I hope that what follows will provide a way of actively supporting your dying relative or friend  or congregant - even though at a distance.

In the early years of aged-care chaplaincy, I used to agonize over how long to stay with a dying resident. Sadly, it wasn't uncommon for there to be no family to keep vigil, and I used to worry about the person dying alone when staff were stretched with caring for so many. But something changed:

I had been sitting with a dying woman whose adult children were all overseas. I'd been called in  by staff at 8pm, and by 11pm, I had very reluctantly decided to go home because I knew that if I didn't get some sleep I would be little use to anyone the following morning.As I got up to leave, the thought came: 'She won't be alone, you know. I am here.'

Wishful thinking? A self-comforting thought to assuage my guilt?
I choose to believe that it was the Spirit of Jesus  gently reminding me of what I knew in my heart, but had overlaid with worry. So when I found myself in similar situations in the future, this reminder helped me trust that the dying person was being accompanied by Someone who had already walked through 'the valley of the shadow of death'.

We are made in the image of God. [Genesis 1:27]
God is Spirit. God is Love. [John 4:24; 1 John 4:16a]

Many of us have said something like 'I'll be with you in spirit', when unable to attend an important event such as a funeral. In saying that, did we simply mean that we'd  be thinking about the gathering  and nothing more? Or were we attempting to express something we find hard to put into words, something like,  'My love is reaching out to you across the miles. Know you are not alone.'?

If we've felt the reality of such support from other people's long-distance loving, imagine what it would be like for the receptive spirit of the dying person, if their loved ones intentionally gathered, even if it had to be by Zoom. Imagine we - spouse, family, friends or minister, entering a time of communal quietness, sitting in that stillness of gathered experience and shared emotion. Imagine  bringing our beloved to mind, opening the doors of our hearts so Love may flow and reach the spirit of the one for whom we are, in effect, keeping a virtual vigil.

If we truly believe that  'nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus'  [Romans 8] then, does it not follow that, even if we are separated from our dying loved one physically by the constraints of Covid-19, Love will still find a way to meet our beloved at their point of need?

It may be that Love will connect the dying with images of those whom they have loved in this life, or the comforting awareness of someone they've loved who died many years ago. Love might take the form of Jesus, holding out his hand; Love may  manifest as Light or a beautiful fragrance gradually filling the room, or as a sense of Peace enfolding the spirit,

Although we who have gathered for this holy purpose may not know how Love touched our dear one in their dying, we will know we have been connected with our beloved in a way that  is neither sentimental nor superficial.  When waves of grief threaten to submerge us, as they will, this memory can help us to find our feet on the solid ground of a Love which is stronger than death.

And, in time, we may come to see ourselves as  partners in the mysterious work of a deeply compassionate God.

          

Diary of a pandemic - Day 19# hope among the ruins

A lone poppy  caught my eye as I wandered among the ruins of the Pools of Bethesda some years ago.  All around me lay remnants of what had been a place of healing and hope in first century Palestine. There was no sign of either now, apart from this bright red poppy which had managed to find sufficient nourishment to reach maturity and fling its colour into the greyness of the surroundings.   

This location in  Jerusalem was the site of one of Jesus' healing miracles. The Gospel of John, chapter 5 opens with the story of an unnamed man who had been paralysed for thirty eight years. He was one of many  who hoped that they would be cured when the water was 'stirred up'... but, as he will soon describe to Jesus,  he had no-one to help him reach the water in time. His life was severely limited and frustrating.

Into this place Jesus wanders. He learns of the man's longstanding disability and asks him what seems  a pretty obvious question: 'Do you want to get well?'  
The man is taken aback. He doesn't answer Jesus directly; he can't  turn his mind to what is being offered. Instead he looks backwards at what he thinks has been hindering his healing: the lack of aid from others.

It's an intriguing response isn't it? This relating back to what has been; this seeing others as bearing responsibility for one's predicament; this slowness to take a life-changing opportunity. 

Would I, would you respond any differently?
Well, we have a chance to see.

As we endure days or even weeks of frustration and limitations on our freedom because of the Covid-19 pandemic, we have the chance to take a look at how we've been living - individually, in kinship groups, as a nation, as a world. 
We have a chance to consider our inner lives and motivation - for example, do we habitually look for someone to blame whenever things turn to custard?
We have the chance to reassess priorities as we are confronted by both the disproportionate impact of this pandemic on the poor and disadvantaged AND the fragility and preciousness of all life, including our own.
We have the chance to slow down, to spend time with those closest to us, to dream up little acts of kindness, to recover the pastimes that used to give us joy, to play and be creative in all sorts of ways, to look at what it really means to be made in the image of God.

Some would say they just want to 'get back to normal', but there are others who are saying that maybe it's time to examine our 'normal' and see how we might better live our lives for the good of the whole planet.

What had been 'normal' for the paralysed man, certainly wasn't the life that Jesus opened up before him. Jesus offered him and offers each one of us a new way of being ourselves. We might even call this new way  'resurrection', 'being born again', even 'repentance' - turning towards Jesus so we can grasp the healing and new life being offered and be guided by his Spirit in the pathway ahead as it unfolds.

Take a moment to imagine Jesus standing in front of you, as he did with the paralytic at the Pools of Bethesda. He looks at you with deep compassion:

'Do you want to get well?'

Diary of a Pandemic - Day 11# -Hugs

In the 90’s when I was chaplain at a tertiary education institute, the Student Services team and I decided to offer a ‘Hug Day’ to lift people’s spirits in the middle of a dreary winter. After first asking permission of course, posters were put up and fliers sent out, with pictures from Kathryn Keating’s  ‘A Little Book of Hugs’ showing two polar bears  in a whole range of hugs, from the intimate hug on the book cover to the ‘A’ frame hug, the ‘side-on’ hug and so on. People had plenty of guidance about what was and wasn’t okay, and, for a day, there was a lot of laughter and appropriate, consented hugging – it was a hug[e] emotional boost!

But now in 2020, with Covid-19 spreading, many of us are having to practice physical distancing and can only hug those in our bubble, unless our bubble-mates struggle to share touch, or avoid close physical contact because of earlier trauma or cultural conditioning. And, if we’re on our own, having a pet can help fill that need for close contact, but not everyone is in that position. What do we do if we’ve no-one to hug?

We can use our sanctified imagination. While some may be wary of the imagination I think it’s fair to say that we’re already seeing the positive fruit of the imagination of musicians, songwriters, poets, comedians, artisans and ‘ordinary’ people within their four walls, as they create resources to lighten the global mood a little, while we bob along on these seas of uncertainty.  

So, if you’d like to give this a go, let me ‘talk’ you through this imaginative hugging process.

Find a time and a place where you’re not going to be disturbed. [ put your phone on mute!]

Choose a favourite pillow or large cushion. Take a few slow, deep breaths.

Invite the Loving Presence to be with you.

As you hold your pillow/cushion in your arms, think of someone with whom you feel completely safe or who lifts your spirit. It may be an absent partner or a child, an old friend, or even Jesus.

Close your eyes and imagine that person is here with you now … gently draw the pillow/cushion nearer until it is comfortably close … hug for as long as you like. You may even want to dance …  speak … or sing … or just be quiet, resting in the knowledge that you are loved, and held and secure.

When you are ready, take a few deep breaths and open your eyes. Spend a little time in quiet reflection before re-engaging with your surroundings.

You may even like to write something about this experience – or share it with someone whom you trust.

May you know you are held in the love of God – always.

Diary of a Pandemic: day 5# - framing and reframing

Many of us may be struggling to adjust to the 'stay-home' orders,  introduced as a measure to restrict the spread of the Covid-19 virus. Apart from the super-elderly who have lived through war-time deprivation, it's the first time we've experienced anything remotely like this  - and naturally there are different responses and different ways of naming what's going on by those in authority who are asking their people to co-operate in a desperate effort to slow down or even stop the disease's shadow covering the earth.

What do we make of the terms being used in media and common conversation [held at a safe distance or over the phone/device of course]; terms like being in 'lockdown', 'quarantine','confinement'?

I don't know about you but initially the terms all raised my anxiety as I went to my unfortunately common default setting of imagining  'worse case scenarios' and thought of non-compliance being met with  potential violence, large-scale sequestering of the sick , and solitary confinement being used as a punishment!

But, in Psalm 73 - today's Psalm - we see how easy it is to be overwhelmed if we let ourselves think only of the negative connotations - even if evolutionary biologists might say we're hard-wired to react and respond to risk to enable the species to survive. It's only when the psalmist 'goes into the sanctuary' of his well-established relationship with a faithful God, that he gleans some perspective and can begin to see that there is another way of framing things that can be life-giving.

Another way of framing things.

Lock-down - words like security, safety, and focus come to mind; a time when it's possible to draw aside from the 'madding crowd' for a season, to 'pull up the drawbridge'  and reconnect with ourselves, with others [on the internet or with physical distancing], with creation and with our God.
Welsh poet William.H.Davies wrote these lines to open his poem Leisure [1911]:
               What is this world if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?'
Well, now we have the time to stand and contemplate what is around us and what is within us.

Quarantine can speak to us of protecting ourselves not just from a nasty virus, but from anything that can undermine or even poison our well-being.
Do we really want to binge on box-sets of violent TV dramas until this situation eases?
Does watching non-stop updates about the spread of Covid-19 soothe our soul or deepen our anxiety even further?

Confinement in common current usage is associated with limiting freedom in some way. But in many cultures it used to refer to the period [sometimes up to 30 or 40 days] during which a woman and her baby recovered from child-birth, established feeding and were cared for by those closest to her. How many of us are secretly breathing a sigh of relief that we can legitimately step back from the hectic pace of modern life, take better care of ourselves, and deepen our relationship with those with whom we share this extraordinary time.

Even though it's thrown us all, maybe  there's an invitation to us to see this unexpected and unprecedented event in our personal and global history  as a period of gestation with huge potential to give birth to what has been growing within us for a long time - a reclaiming of who we really are, what and whom we really love, and a re-examination of who we think God is.s

Then, when we emerge we will bring with us a different way of seeing, a  readiness to continue to spend quality time with God 'in the sanctuary'of our hearts, and good news for all of creation.