Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation
Journey to the Center
Monday, December 28, 2015
Both God's truest identity and our own True Self are Love. So why isn't it obvious? How do we find what is supposedly already there? Why should we need to awaken our deepest and most profound selves? And how do we do it? By praying and meditating? By more silence, solitude, and sacraments? Yes to all of the above, but the most important way is to live and fully accept our present reality. This solution sounds so simple and innocuous that most of us fabricate all kinds of religious trappings to avoid taking up our own inglorious, mundane, and ever-present cross of the present moment.
As James Finley says, "The greatest teacher of God's presence in our life is our life." For some reason, it is easier to attend church services than quite simply to reverence the real --the "practice of the presence of God," as some of our saints have called it. Making this commitment doesn't demand a lot of dogmatic wrangling or managerial support, just vigilance, desire, and willingness to begin again and again. Living and accepting our reality will not feel very spiritual. It will feel like we are on the edges rather than dealing with the essence. Thus most run toward more esoteric and dramatic postures instead of bearing the mystery of God's suffering and God's joy inside themselves. But the edges of our lives--fully experienced suffered, and enjoyed--lead us back to the center and the essence, which is Love.
We do not find our own center; it finds us. Our own mind will not be able to figure it out. We collapse back into the Truth only when we are spiritually naked and free--which is probably not very often. We do not think ourselves into new ways of living. We live ourselves into new ways of thinking. In other words, our journeys around and through our realities, or " circumferences, " lead us to the core reality, where we meet both our truest self and our truest God. We do not really know what it means to be human unless we know God. And, in turn, we do not really know God except through our own broken and rejoicing humanity.
In Jesus, God tells us that God is not different from humanity. Thus Jesus' most common and almost exclusive self-name is "The Human One" or "A Son of Humanity." He uses the term seventy-nine times in the four Gospels. Jesus' reality, his cross, is to say a free "yes" to what his humanity daily asks of him. It seems that we Christians have been worshiping Jesus' journey instead of doing his journey. The worshiping feels very religious; the latter just feels human and ordinary. We are not human beings on a journey toward Spirit, we are already spiritual beings on a journey toward becoming fully human, which for some reason seems harder precisely because it is so ordinary.
Gateway to Silence
God's life is living itself in me.
________________________________________________
Reference:
Adapted from Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer (The Crossroad Publishing Company: 2003), 17-20.
________________________________________________
Bold Red is my highlighting. I read this – and these words, especially, resonated in my heart and soul. The “light bulb” effect. Kind of. I have been coming to this understanding for the past few years – and the way he says it here just kind of hit me. Yes! That’s it.
God is L-O-V-E. He is all things, the beginning, the end, et cetera. But first and foremost, God is L-O-V-E. So completely revealed in the reality of His Son, Jesus, and what He did.
And if we “get it”, then we are L-O-V-E – also. He is IN us . . . i.e., WE are Love. First and foremost, we are LOVE.
And everything we say and do comes from the heart and soul of us whose generator is LOVE.
= = = = = = = =
Does this makes sense to anyone but me?
Sarah
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Friday, November 20, 2015
BOMBardment!
I wrote this back in 2003 in my journal. It seems timely to post it now.
Journal Entry
1/11/2003
Well, isn’t this special.
This wacky, old, liberal lady may not be so wacky, after all.
Before the bombing of Afghanistan, I sent messages to liberal members of Congress asking them to exert their influence to prevent bombing with “bomb” bombs. Surprise, surprise; no one listened. AFTER the bombing, I sent messages to all members of Congress I could find E-mail addresses for. Some came back “undeliverable”. No one really paid any attention. Who needs to listen to wacky, old, liberal ladies, anyway.
Briefly, my suggestion was this:
1) “Bomb” Afghanistan with food, medicine, and supplies and send people with skills to teach them how to work their land, etc., etc. Strictly humanitarian aid. In whatever form necessary. BLITZ them with it. NOTHING ELSE.
2) BLAST the message of what we are doing to TV stations by satellite INTERNATIONALLY. Over and over. Sound bites. Several times a day. Just like we do in our political campaigns.
The ads would vary but basically would say, “Look, World. This is what “the great Satan” does. These are the acts of ‛the great Satan’. Here are the pictures. Now look at what bin Laden does. Here are the pictures. Who is really ‛the great Satan?’ You decide.”
Over and over. Day after day. 3-4-5 times a day.
As the campaign continued, updated pictures of the people getting the food, the medicine, the training would continued to blitz the TV news stations ALL OVER THE WORLD.
THIS IS THE ONLY ATTACK ON AFGHANISTAN that should have been made.
Of course the Suits, the Super-Stars, the Movers and Shakers, the Influential Folks of Washington did not listen. Not that I really expected them to. But then, miracles DO happen, so you’ve got to try. Besides, “speaking your mind” is one of the things America is all about.
Now we are planning to go to war against Saddam Hussein and “bomb” Iraq. What he has to do with Nine/Eleven -- which is nothing -- is irrationally irrelevant.
So the wacky, old, liberal lady speaks again.
In her opinion, she always bases her opinions on 1) as much knowledge as she has at the time (which may or may not be enough, and is why she may change her mind), and 2) common sense/logic.
Trying to put herself in Saddam Hussein’s place, she tries to imagine what she would do if confronted with his situation. And decides--since she can’t ask him-- that it is a reasonable assumption to believe he LOVES his life the way it has been going and would like it to continue. If only those evil Americans will leave him alone to do his thing. She believes he knows if he DOES get “weapons of mass destruction” up and running and uses them, SPLAT, he’s toast. He and his country would be obliterated off the face of the earth. He’s evil, not stupid.
BUT, if he is CONVINCED we are going to get him, he has nothing to lose, so he’ll take out some of--or all of--the rest of us. Probably has the bombs in place in the bunkers; nuclear bombs and/or biological bombs and/or chemical bombs. We bomb them, we ALL are toast.
This is NOT rocket science, folks. Sixty-four-year old wacky, liberal ladies don’t understand rocket science. Not this one, anyway.
Fast forward to January 2003. In particular, 1/10/03, N.P.T.’s broadcast last night of Bill Meyer’s “NOW” program. Interviewing Howard Zinn, author and historian at Boston University, his latest book being, “Terrorism & War.”
I cannot believe what I am hearing.
According to Howard Zinn (assuming he is stating the truth), the CIA has publicly stated the one thing that would cause Saddam Hussein to use his “weapons of mass destruction” -- IF he has them -- would be if we attack him.
What???
************
This learned man continues. He is not a pacifist. The Sadam Husseins and bin Ladens of the world must be dealt with, he believes. Through negotiations. And America must change from a military super power to a humanitarian super power.
Hey! Bet he would LOVE my idea for “bombing” Afghanistan. Of course, it’s too late for that. In October 2001 we further decimated a country already devastated by other wars, other dictators.
Oh, well, maybe next time.
With respect to the actual bombing of Afghanistan, which was totally ineffective, of course, since the stated purpose was to “get bid Laden”, Mr. Zinn compared what we did there to this scenario:
“There is a terrorist hiding in Boston, let’s bomb Boston and maybe we’ll get him.”
Why it takes a learned historian from Boston University to state the obvious, I don’t know, but I will restate his position on the bombing of Iraq:
“If we bomb Iraq, we will be killing the victims of Saddam Hussein.”
Hooray for us!
********
Bill asked him why he is so opposed to war.
In World War II he was a bomber, flew in the B17 bomber, and bombed the hell out of whatever target his commander selected for that day’s run. From 6000 feet in the air, you don’t see people, you don’t see heads blown off, arms torn off, bleeding, dying real life people, writhing in agony and pain, dying by the thousands, or maimed for life if you happen to survive.
You see a target, a spot. And you obliterate it. Or maybe the one next to it. So you missed by one degree. Too bad. “I understand the banality of war. They’re the bad guys, we’re the good guys. War brutalizes everyone involved.”
Bombing the blazes out of a country, only creates more problems.
The turning point for him, he said, was at the end of the war. The war was actually over but there were a few skirmishes, loose ends to tie up. His squadron was deployed to Orien, France. There was a pocket of German prisoners--young men, of course; every country sends their best and strongest--being held in this town. They had fought valiantly for their cause, just as we had done, but they got caught. The U.S. military sent 1200 bombers--that’s
o n e t h o u s a n d t w o h u n d r e d k I I l I n g m a c h I n e s –
to destroy these few thousand prisoners.
It just happened that they obliterated the entire town of several thousand people in the process.
“And that’s when I started hating war,” he said.
******
Whether or not there is life after death or not, we really won’t know until we get there. Some believe when it’s over, it’s over. This life is all there is. Others of us believe we are eternal beings and life continues in some form after we shed this earthly shell.
I’ve spent a lifetime studying the Bible and other religious/spiritual books. I’ve listened, and continue to listen, to well-known religious leaders of all persuasions. The ones that impress me are the ones that stress the importance of love.
God IS love and ALL-KNOWING, ALL-SEEING, ALL-PRESENT. IF there IS a God. (That’s for all you folks who don’t know or think there isn’t).
Love is the key. Whether there’s a God or not.
Desmond Tutu was interviewed a few months ago by Ted Koppel on Up Close and he made a comment that has stuck with me ever since. He meditates every morning from 6-9 a.m.
He was speaking of God. Paraphrasing, he said the very essence of God is love. God loves US completely, unequivocally, absolutely, and God expects US to love each other IN THE SAME MANNER. Then he said something else. I will never forget it:
“God loves George Bush and Saddam Hussein the same. To Him, they are brothers.”
If the world could grasp the meaning of those words, there would be no more wars. “The world” being made up of millions of individuals. Individuals who CAN comprehend and act on the meaning of those words. If they so choose.
There’s lots of things I haven’t figured out yet. Some things I think I’ve figured out but I may change my mind if I get more information.
For now, this is what I believe.
Whatever heaven is--assuming there is one--it is only filled with love. To the furthermost edges, every nook and cranny. Filled with love. All the negative emotions that we humans feel from time to time-- anger, frustration, intolerance, resentment, self-righteousness, hatred, impatience, prejudice--those things are not present in heaven.
So if you harbor those thoughts, if you act on those emotions, if this is
Who . . . You . . . Are . . .
you might want to think about overcoming those feelings with LOVE. (so-called Christians beware; wake up; I’m speaking especially to you.)
In the largest darkest room or cave, where you can’t see your finger in front of your face, light just one small candle. The darkness is dispersed. Light another candle and the darkness recedes a little more. Every small candle lit gets rid of a little more darkness.
Individuals, one by one, understanding what love really means, practicing it, joined together become nations. And nations who act in love will have no need for war.
Journal Entry
1/11/2003
Well, isn’t this special.
This wacky, old, liberal lady may not be so wacky, after all.
Before the bombing of Afghanistan, I sent messages to liberal members of Congress asking them to exert their influence to prevent bombing with “bomb” bombs. Surprise, surprise; no one listened. AFTER the bombing, I sent messages to all members of Congress I could find E-mail addresses for. Some came back “undeliverable”. No one really paid any attention. Who needs to listen to wacky, old, liberal ladies, anyway.
Briefly, my suggestion was this:
1) “Bomb” Afghanistan with food, medicine, and supplies and send people with skills to teach them how to work their land, etc., etc. Strictly humanitarian aid. In whatever form necessary. BLITZ them with it. NOTHING ELSE.
2) BLAST the message of what we are doing to TV stations by satellite INTERNATIONALLY. Over and over. Sound bites. Several times a day. Just like we do in our political campaigns.
The ads would vary but basically would say, “Look, World. This is what “the great Satan” does. These are the acts of ‛the great Satan’. Here are the pictures. Now look at what bin Laden does. Here are the pictures. Who is really ‛the great Satan?’ You decide.”
Over and over. Day after day. 3-4-5 times a day.
As the campaign continued, updated pictures of the people getting the food, the medicine, the training would continued to blitz the TV news stations ALL OVER THE WORLD.
THIS IS THE ONLY ATTACK ON AFGHANISTAN that should have been made.
Of course the Suits, the Super-Stars, the Movers and Shakers, the Influential Folks of Washington did not listen. Not that I really expected them to. But then, miracles DO happen, so you’ve got to try. Besides, “speaking your mind” is one of the things America is all about.
Now we are planning to go to war against Saddam Hussein and “bomb” Iraq. What he has to do with Nine/Eleven -- which is nothing -- is irrationally irrelevant.
So the wacky, old, liberal lady speaks again.
In her opinion, she always bases her opinions on 1) as much knowledge as she has at the time (which may or may not be enough, and is why she may change her mind), and 2) common sense/logic.
Trying to put herself in Saddam Hussein’s place, she tries to imagine what she would do if confronted with his situation. And decides--since she can’t ask him-- that it is a reasonable assumption to believe he LOVES his life the way it has been going and would like it to continue. If only those evil Americans will leave him alone to do his thing. She believes he knows if he DOES get “weapons of mass destruction” up and running and uses them, SPLAT, he’s toast. He and his country would be obliterated off the face of the earth. He’s evil, not stupid.
BUT, if he is CONVINCED we are going to get him, he has nothing to lose, so he’ll take out some of--or all of--the rest of us. Probably has the bombs in place in the bunkers; nuclear bombs and/or biological bombs and/or chemical bombs. We bomb them, we ALL are toast.
This is NOT rocket science, folks. Sixty-four-year old wacky, liberal ladies don’t understand rocket science. Not this one, anyway.
Fast forward to January 2003. In particular, 1/10/03, N.P.T.’s broadcast last night of Bill Meyer’s “NOW” program. Interviewing Howard Zinn, author and historian at Boston University, his latest book being, “Terrorism & War.”
I cannot believe what I am hearing.
According to Howard Zinn (assuming he is stating the truth), the CIA has publicly stated the one thing that would cause Saddam Hussein to use his “weapons of mass destruction” -- IF he has them -- would be if we attack him.
What???
************
This learned man continues. He is not a pacifist. The Sadam Husseins and bin Ladens of the world must be dealt with, he believes. Through negotiations. And America must change from a military super power to a humanitarian super power.
Hey! Bet he would LOVE my idea for “bombing” Afghanistan. Of course, it’s too late for that. In October 2001 we further decimated a country already devastated by other wars, other dictators.
Oh, well, maybe next time.
With respect to the actual bombing of Afghanistan, which was totally ineffective, of course, since the stated purpose was to “get bid Laden”, Mr. Zinn compared what we did there to this scenario:
“There is a terrorist hiding in Boston, let’s bomb Boston and maybe we’ll get him.”
Why it takes a learned historian from Boston University to state the obvious, I don’t know, but I will restate his position on the bombing of Iraq:
“If we bomb Iraq, we will be killing the victims of Saddam Hussein.”
Hooray for us!
********
Bill asked him why he is so opposed to war.
In World War II he was a bomber, flew in the B17 bomber, and bombed the hell out of whatever target his commander selected for that day’s run. From 6000 feet in the air, you don’t see people, you don’t see heads blown off, arms torn off, bleeding, dying real life people, writhing in agony and pain, dying by the thousands, or maimed for life if you happen to survive.
You see a target, a spot. And you obliterate it. Or maybe the one next to it. So you missed by one degree. Too bad. “I understand the banality of war. They’re the bad guys, we’re the good guys. War brutalizes everyone involved.”
Bombing the blazes out of a country, only creates more problems.
The turning point for him, he said, was at the end of the war. The war was actually over but there were a few skirmishes, loose ends to tie up. His squadron was deployed to Orien, France. There was a pocket of German prisoners--young men, of course; every country sends their best and strongest--being held in this town. They had fought valiantly for their cause, just as we had done, but they got caught. The U.S. military sent 1200 bombers--that’s
o n e t h o u s a n d t w o h u n d r e d k I I l I n g m a c h I n e s –
to destroy these few thousand prisoners.
It just happened that they obliterated the entire town of several thousand people in the process.
“And that’s when I started hating war,” he said.
******
Whether or not there is life after death or not, we really won’t know until we get there. Some believe when it’s over, it’s over. This life is all there is. Others of us believe we are eternal beings and life continues in some form after we shed this earthly shell.
I’ve spent a lifetime studying the Bible and other religious/spiritual books. I’ve listened, and continue to listen, to well-known religious leaders of all persuasions. The ones that impress me are the ones that stress the importance of love.
God IS love and ALL-KNOWING, ALL-SEEING, ALL-PRESENT. IF there IS a God. (That’s for all you folks who don’t know or think there isn’t).
Love is the key. Whether there’s a God or not.
Desmond Tutu was interviewed a few months ago by Ted Koppel on Up Close and he made a comment that has stuck with me ever since. He meditates every morning from 6-9 a.m.
He was speaking of God. Paraphrasing, he said the very essence of God is love. God loves US completely, unequivocally, absolutely, and God expects US to love each other IN THE SAME MANNER. Then he said something else. I will never forget it:
“God loves George Bush and Saddam Hussein the same. To Him, they are brothers.”
If the world could grasp the meaning of those words, there would be no more wars. “The world” being made up of millions of individuals. Individuals who CAN comprehend and act on the meaning of those words. If they so choose.
There’s lots of things I haven’t figured out yet. Some things I think I’ve figured out but I may change my mind if I get more information.
For now, this is what I believe.
Whatever heaven is--assuming there is one--it is only filled with love. To the furthermost edges, every nook and cranny. Filled with love. All the negative emotions that we humans feel from time to time-- anger, frustration, intolerance, resentment, self-righteousness, hatred, impatience, prejudice--those things are not present in heaven.
So if you harbor those thoughts, if you act on those emotions, if this is
Who . . . You . . . Are . . .
you might want to think about overcoming those feelings with LOVE. (so-called Christians beware; wake up; I’m speaking especially to you.)
In the largest darkest room or cave, where you can’t see your finger in front of your face, light just one small candle. The darkness is dispersed. Light another candle and the darkness recedes a little more. Every small candle lit gets rid of a little more darkness.
Individuals, one by one, understanding what love really means, practicing it, joined together become nations. And nations who act in love will have no need for war.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Music Takes Me Back . . .
So this morning I turn on my TV to Easy Listening, as always, open the LR blinds, and head to the kitchen to make my coffee. Decide to mop the kitchen floor and wash the rugs. THEN, make the coffee.
Once again, the music takes me away. This time it’s "Grandfather’s Clock." OMG, now that’s one I haven’t heard since . . . wow, a long time.
It was, of course, just one of the many – I thought at the time – silly little dittys we kids sang as we played and ran around the neighborhood.
Grandfather’s Clock, and "It’s Raining, it’s Pouring" , Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo, Catch a Tiger By the Toe ( well, some kids sang it different but MY Mom taught me some words are just too ugly and we don’t say them).
And then there were the popular songs of the day – like " Don’t Sit Under the Apple tree," " I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover," " I’ll Be Seeing You," "White Cliffs of Dover," "When the Lights Come On Again". All those heart-rendering, patriotic, romantic war-time melodies.
Do you remember them too?
My Beautiful Old Detroit Neighborhood. Mostly demolished now. One and a half blocks from my grade school, Grayling Elementary, and two streets over from the State Fair Grounds (where we spent many a summer day – all day – back in those long-ago times of my – can I say– perfect? – childhood.
There was a vacant lot two houses down from my house – just about in the middle of the block – great for playing baseball and kick the can. Of course we all knew the rules – come in when the street lights come on. Often of a summer evening, our parents were visiting back and forth on someone’s front porch. Keeping an ‘eye out’. Every house had a front porch, of course.
Back in those days, after school, or in the summertime when there was no school, we – mostly my (3) girlfriends and I – neighbors all – played together. And this is how it went. You went down the street to your friend’s house and stood on the sidewalk in front of her door – and called her name. (Sing-songy voice required).
Mar – il – lynn . . . (pause) . . . Mar – il – lynn.
Glor – ee – ah . . . . Glor – ee – ah.
Dee – Aaannn
Mare – ree
After one or two calls, the girl would come out to play. Or her mother would come to the door and say, "Marilyn can’t come and play right now."
On the opposite end of the street from the one that led to the school was a huge piece of property. Mostly filled with cinders and dirt. Probably a 4-5 acre piece of land. At the back the land rose about ten feet or so and that’s were the railroad tracks ran. And still do, of course. We spent a lot of time running around that land, sometimes catching frogs or tadpoles in the pools that formed and, god forbid – climbing up and "walking the tracks". Yeah, we did. When I think about that . . .
But that’s enough for today. Don’t want to repeat myself; most of these precious memories have been recorded in my first book, Sarah’s Story (available on Lulu.com--30% discount-- and Amazon.com.)
Once again, the music takes me away. This time it’s "Grandfather’s Clock." OMG, now that’s one I haven’t heard since . . . wow, a long time.
It was, of course, just one of the many – I thought at the time – silly little dittys we kids sang as we played and ran around the neighborhood.
Grandfather’s Clock, and "It’s Raining, it’s Pouring" , Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo, Catch a Tiger By the Toe ( well, some kids sang it different but MY Mom taught me some words are just too ugly and we don’t say them).
And then there were the popular songs of the day – like " Don’t Sit Under the Apple tree," " I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover," " I’ll Be Seeing You," "White Cliffs of Dover," "When the Lights Come On Again". All those heart-rendering, patriotic, romantic war-time melodies.
Do you remember them too?
My Beautiful Old Detroit Neighborhood. Mostly demolished now. One and a half blocks from my grade school, Grayling Elementary, and two streets over from the State Fair Grounds (where we spent many a summer day – all day – back in those long-ago times of my – can I say– perfect? – childhood.
There was a vacant lot two houses down from my house – just about in the middle of the block – great for playing baseball and kick the can. Of course we all knew the rules – come in when the street lights come on. Often of a summer evening, our parents were visiting back and forth on someone’s front porch. Keeping an ‘eye out’. Every house had a front porch, of course.
Back in those days, after school, or in the summertime when there was no school, we – mostly my (3) girlfriends and I – neighbors all – played together. And this is how it went. You went down the street to your friend’s house and stood on the sidewalk in front of her door – and called her name. (Sing-songy voice required).
Mar – il – lynn . . . (pause) . . . Mar – il – lynn.
Glor – ee – ah . . . . Glor – ee – ah.
Dee – Aaannn
Mare – ree
After one or two calls, the girl would come out to play. Or her mother would come to the door and say, "Marilyn can’t come and play right now."
On the opposite end of the street from the one that led to the school was a huge piece of property. Mostly filled with cinders and dirt. Probably a 4-5 acre piece of land. At the back the land rose about ten feet or so and that’s were the railroad tracks ran. And still do, of course. We spent a lot of time running around that land, sometimes catching frogs or tadpoles in the pools that formed and, god forbid – climbing up and "walking the tracks". Yeah, we did. When I think about that . . .
But that’s enough for today. Don’t want to repeat myself; most of these precious memories have been recorded in my first book, Sarah’s Story (available on Lulu.com--30% discount-- and Amazon.com.)
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Regrets . . . (Originally written 12/27/2009)
Don’t Be The Kind of Father Who . . .
As your children stand at your casket,
silent tears falling from their eyes,
mourning not only the physical loss
of the man who was their father,
but also for the missed opportunities
when they were children growing up
with a man who was basically
such a good man, really,
but also someone it was very hard to love.
Because loving you exposed them
to so much hurt.
As your children stand at your casket,
silent tears falling from their eyes,
mourning not only the physical loss
of the man who was their father,
but also for the missed opportunities
when they were children growing up
with a man who was basically
such a good man, really,
but also someone it was very hard to love.
Because loving you exposed them
to so much hurt.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Genealogy Research/Editing Services -- 2015
Sarah Barnes, Tennessee Writer
615-636-8144
Freelance Writer, Editor,
Genealogist (member of MTGS,
Midle TN Genealogical Society)
Author
Sarah’s Story, A Memoir http://goo.gl/mm6dhL URL to purchase
Option #1
Genealogy Research - $10/hour
2-3 hours of research generally produce data/information on you, your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents. The more detail you provide (name, date of birth, location, etc.) the greater the likelihood of locating him/her/them. End result includes ancestor report of information found.
Option #2
Scanning of pictures – $2.00 per picture
Option #3
If several generations have been researched and located, I can produce attractive genie reports illustrating the information. Several styles/options available. $2 – $5 per report. (See samples attached.) Scanned pictures can be added to reports.
Option #4 – Editing
I will edit/proofread manuscripts, etc. at $.01 per word. (Ex. 500 words doubled-spaced = 2 pages – $5.00).
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Sarah's Story . . .
. . . now available on Lulu.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble --
Please purchase from Lulu. I get $5.++ from Lulu. I get $1.78 from Amazon.
THANKS!
Lulu.com --
http://goo.gl/mm6dhL
Amazon.com --
http://www.amazon.com/Sarahs-Story-Sarah-Barnes/dp/0578157055/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1429996219&sr=1-2-fkmr0&keywords=Sarah.s+Story%2C+by+Sarah+Barnes
Please purchase from Lulu. I get $5.++ from Lulu. I get $1.78 from Amazon.
THANKS!
Lulu.com --
http://goo.gl/mm6dhL
Amazon.com --
http://www.amazon.com/Sarahs-Story-Sarah-Barnes/dp/0578157055/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1429996219&sr=1-2-fkmr0&keywords=Sarah.s+Story%2C+by+Sarah+Barnes
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Fred and Wilma -- The Flintstones -- 03 29 2015
Fred and Wilma -- "You know, like the Flintstones," they said the morning I met them at Spring Hill Methodist Church. About a year ago.
It was the time during the service, right after the call to worship, when the minister tells us to take a break to "meet and greet" one another. This elderly couple was sitting in the pew right behind me and both reached out their hands as I stood and turned towards them.
It was my first visit here. I liked it so much I never got around to visiting the Episcopal church across the street. I quickly claimed my ‘comfortable place' in the pew in front of Fred and Wilma. Which was also behind the pew with the big crack about 3 feet long in the seat. Finding my "spot" by sighting Fred and Wilma became my weekly routine.
And soon the handshake became a gentle hug for and with each of them. You might say it made my sense of "homeness" in this place complete.
A few weeks ago, during ‘sharing joys and sorrow' time during the service we learned one of our members had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. His name, along with others experiencing various trials and illnesses appeared in the bulletin. Early on in my attendance at this church I began adding the new names from the bulletin each week to my daily prayer list. For my own daily devotion time of prayers and scripture reading – Sitting next to the fire in my fireplace in winter and out on my screened-in porch during the warmer months. Along with my coffee, it has become my morning ritual.
Each day I take out my list and name each person asking God to provide healing, or comfort, or protection – whatever it is that particular person or family needs.
Today, at church, a new couple was sitting about mid-way in the rows. I didn’t see Fred and Wilma so I looked for the cracked pew as my marker and found my "spot" that way. It was directly in front of these new folks. During meet and greet I turned around to shake their hands. We exchanged greetings and I learned they had been coming about a month. I told them Fred and Wilma usually sat there but I hadn’t seen them for a few weeks. (Sometimes I go to church in Franklin with my son and his family).
I turned to sit back down and suddenly it hit me. Like a punch to my stomach. Fred and Wilma . . . Fred as in THE Fred Thompson with stomach cancer I have recently been praying for.
Dear little Fred and Wilma – who remind me so much of my own precious parents now residing in heaven. I think Pastor Keith would forgive me if he knew I only half listened to his sermon today. Mostly I spent his sermon time crying and praying for these two sweet dear souls.
Please, God, Jehovah Rophi, reign down healing upon your precious son, Fred.
It was the time during the service, right after the call to worship, when the minister tells us to take a break to "meet and greet" one another. This elderly couple was sitting in the pew right behind me and both reached out their hands as I stood and turned towards them.
It was my first visit here. I liked it so much I never got around to visiting the Episcopal church across the street. I quickly claimed my ‘comfortable place' in the pew in front of Fred and Wilma. Which was also behind the pew with the big crack about 3 feet long in the seat. Finding my "spot" by sighting Fred and Wilma became my weekly routine.
And soon the handshake became a gentle hug for and with each of them. You might say it made my sense of "homeness" in this place complete.
A few weeks ago, during ‘sharing joys and sorrow' time during the service we learned one of our members had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. His name, along with others experiencing various trials and illnesses appeared in the bulletin. Early on in my attendance at this church I began adding the new names from the bulletin each week to my daily prayer list. For my own daily devotion time of prayers and scripture reading – Sitting next to the fire in my fireplace in winter and out on my screened-in porch during the warmer months. Along with my coffee, it has become my morning ritual.
Each day I take out my list and name each person asking God to provide healing, or comfort, or protection – whatever it is that particular person or family needs.
Today, at church, a new couple was sitting about mid-way in the rows. I didn’t see Fred and Wilma so I looked for the cracked pew as my marker and found my "spot" that way. It was directly in front of these new folks. During meet and greet I turned around to shake their hands. We exchanged greetings and I learned they had been coming about a month. I told them Fred and Wilma usually sat there but I hadn’t seen them for a few weeks. (Sometimes I go to church in Franklin with my son and his family).
I turned to sit back down and suddenly it hit me. Like a punch to my stomach. Fred and Wilma . . . Fred as in THE Fred Thompson with stomach cancer I have recently been praying for.
Dear little Fred and Wilma – who remind me so much of my own precious parents now residing in heaven. I think Pastor Keith would forgive me if he knew I only half listened to his sermon today. Mostly I spent his sermon time crying and praying for these two sweet dear souls.
Please, God, Jehovah Rophi, reign down healing upon your precious son, Fred.
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