“It’s hopeless. You just have to accept that. Your child will never be a contributing member of society. I can make arrangements for him to be institutionalized. It’s all for the best.” Those were the words the doctor spoke, telling the young mother that her son was “hopeless.”
Hopeless? There are many situations that many think of as hopeless … a marriage on the verge of collapse … a relationship that was desperate for reconciliation … war … a family that was estranged … a body that had run a good race for decades … corrupt politicians –
When human problems beset us … when personal lives disintegrate … when the world seems as if it has gone crazy, it seems that many seek answers from every other physician, before daring to “let go” and “let God/Higher Power/Possibility/Spirit” – before putting prejudices, loneliness, anger, frustrations, pride, hatred, fears into the transforming hands of G_d, the Holy One, the Creator, the Personification of Love, the Bearer of Hope.
How long will it be before reaching out, like the woman with the hem who touched Jesus’ garment or like Jairus, the ruler of a synagogue,= who was searching desperately for some hope. Jairus had tried everything and now, one last attempt. When he finally found the man Jesus, he fell on his knees and repeatedly cried … “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hand on her so that she may be made well and live.” Without a word, Jesus went with Jairus. And while that’s all that Matthew’s Gospel tells, the story appears in Mark’s Gospel as well and carries the story further as a messenger from Jairus’ home comes and says “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble Jesus any further?” To the messenger, the little girl’s death was the end of the story. There was no hope. There was no point in trying to go further. It was hopeless. Fear set in.
Like the day a phone call brought fear to a priest who, the evening of the phone call, wrote about The Not-Knowing-Time: “An ordinary medical test was done. Anticipating nothing unusual, and yet there was. “Redo the test” said the physician. “Nothing to worry about – but let’s rule out …” So, the test was redone and there it was. Again!“A specialist. I want you to see a specialist” she said. The rest of that day was a blur other than the ugly FEAR.“Get me to the specialist. Now! Let me know what I’m dealing with, so decisions can be made and life can be planned. The fear is not of dying. The fear is of the not-knowing.”
When we are in such fearful and seemingly hopeless situations, is the God-of-All-Knowing the first we consider turning to? Or turn to at all?
Then there’s the story of the woman who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. The social context of the time was a significant factor. Because she was bleeding, she would have been looked upon as ‘unclean’. And as such, she was a woman, a person with no rights, and would have been shunned, at the very least, for daring to be in the company of the men who surrounded Jesus, and to touch the hem of his garment. Perhaps she prayed/hoped that her fears would be relieved.
What of the priest who wrote about “The Not-Knowing Time”? A week after the phone call, another entry in her journal: Unraveling the Not-Knowing Time. “Sunday night I wanted to stay home, curl up in bed and watch some inane television program, but I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. In that moment, I hoped that no one would show up at church that evening and I could go home. But, there they were … the two of them. I couldn’t go home. I remembered the phrase: “When two or three are gathered together, there am I, in your midst” and hoped/prayed that something happened for the two who came to church that evening and would happen for me. But, nothing happened for me. I felt no relief – no peace. “The Unknown” still haunted me as walked home. Home at last. A cup of hot tea brought solace, but no relief from the Fear of the “Not-Knowing Time”. The phone rang the next morning with a message “Your appointment with the specialist is scheduled.” The “Not-Knowing Time” had begun to unravel.”
~~~~~~~~ Many others have desperate situations. Perhaps they are facing a seemingly hopeless financial crunch … a marriage that is on the rocks … a teenager or toddler that you can’t handle … a parent who no longer can communicate with anyone in ways others remember … a spouse who is imprisoned either in body or mind … living in poverty and/or war, addicted with nowhere to turn … grieving over the death of someone loved very much …the thought of losing medical coverage – house – job – freedom … a child/spouse/partner/parent who is ill or dying … dealing with their own medical crisis … and the list goes on.
There are countless stories that remind us that no situation is hopeless. But does this mean that if there is enough faith, every dead person will be raised to life on earth? … that money for every financial need will appear?… that everyone who is terminally ill will be cured? … that a job will be provided for all the unemployed? No. It means is that we will be met in our fears and uncertainties and comforted in our Not-Knowing-Times.
Like the true story, long ago, of a wealthy woman, an atheist, who lived in Hanover, Germany. She wanted to prove to the world that there could be no resurrection. She gave orders to those who were to take care of her money after she died, to build a tomb of stone around her, so strong that her body could never rise out of it. Since there was nothing illegal about her request, the men built her a great tomb, and around it, they built an iron fence. What the builders didn’t notice was that a tiny seed fell into a crevice between two of the massive stones and one spring some years later, it sprouted. As the seedling grew into a tree, it pushed aside the heavy stones and the unbreakable tomb was cracked open.
If you go to a place in Hanover, Germany called Gartenfriedhof (Garden Cemetary), ask to be shown the Geoffnetes Grab (the grave that was opened). You’ll have no trouble finding the tomb, because out of its great crack grows the finest tree in the garden. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her grave was opened. Hope stepped into Jairus’ life … stepped into the life of the woman with the hemorrhage and healed her body … stepped into the life of the child whose doctor pronounced him to be hopeless … stepped into the life of the priest who wrote “Knowing Time … Holy Refuge”: “Procedures have begun. Nothing untoward showing up so far. Other complications on the horizon. Getting older and having the body not move as it once did is not fun. I must try to “let go and let God.” The talk about the “peace that passes understanding” isn’t just ‘talk.’ It really exists. Should fear well up within me again… should the unknown frighten me … should the “Not-Knowing Time” seem to engulf and entrap and overwhelm and I can’t move beyond it, I hope/I pray I will relax into the gentle, caring, loving hand of Hope – of Love – of the Creator – and allow myself to move into “Knowing-Time” which, from God’s perspective – from Hope’s perspective – from Love’s perspective – from the Creator’s perspective is “Knowing-Time.” Kairos … not Chronos. “Knowing-Time” exists … whether I feel it or not. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
No matter what situation you may be in now – or you may have to face in the future – with God, there are no “Not-Knowing-Times.” There is always hope! Consider these …
—- on a wall in Dachau prison, these words were scratched: I believe in the sun even when it isn’t shining. I believe in stars even when I see them not. I believe in God even when God is silent.”
—- In a tiny room in a refugee camp in Sri Lanka, four women were teaching songs to barefoot, dirty, scantily-lad children. Since there was no room to sit, they all stood for this brief respite from the noisy, hot, humid, dusty and impossibly crowded communal living area. On the door, crudely printed, were these words “Life is a gift from God.”
The refugees in war-torn Sri Lanka, the concentration prisoners in Dachau – they knew Hope – they knew Love – they knew another word for Hope, for Love – they knew the Creator, God, By Whatever Name … even in the midst of a terrifying yesterday, a bleak and often hungry today, and a potentially fearful tomorrow.
May we never forget that even sturdy tombs crack open! … that Hope/Love/God enters lives, enters the “Unknown Times”), enters the moments of apparent hopelessness.
The days are difficult, seemingly getting more difficult. We’ve got to remember to breathe.
This simple message may not be earth-shattering but it is important, especially when we are stressed, confused, angry, hurting, feeling hopeless or frightened.
So … a reminder: to breathe and inhale ruach – calm – peace – hope.
May these beautiful in-bloom cherry trees with clouds in the background gently ambling across the blue sky help us focus on possibilities, beauty, hope.
Today’s Soulistry reflection is a simple message: … remember to breathe.
Americans have been experiencing a lot of intense days. And a growing number of Americans are realizing that they were duped by their incumbent President … betrayed by him – someone they thought cared about them and would make America great.
Many years ago, on this day, known in the Christian tradition as Maundy Thursday, the man named Jesus of Nazareth, was about to be betrayed … betrayed by someone who said he cared about, ‘loved’, him. That man, Judas, betrayed his friend, his mentor, his rabbi – Jesus. What drove Judas to such action? What drives anyone to betray another?
Perhaps those questions give rise to another question: “When someone is betrayed, has God been betrayed?” Perhaps reflecting on these questions may help get to the answer.
… When a desire for wealth or fame has overwhelmed the call to be persons of justice and mercy – has God been betrayed?
… If we name ourselves Christian, yet think unloving thoughts about another, act in ways that are not compassionate or kind or just – has the Holy One been betrayed?
… When selfishness prioritizes ‘wants’ before the ‘needs’ of others – has the Creator been betrayed?
… When we refuse to be uplifted, enabled, and transformed by the wisdom or experience of another – have we rejected gifts given by the Creator
… When we only see how right we are and ignore the learning that comes in acknowledging that we have made a mistake – have we betrayed the Source of All Being?
… When we will not accept God’s support and grace, strengthening us for the tasks we have been asked to undertake, or the new ministry roles we are challenged to experience – have we betrayed the Beloved Rabbi?
… When we say we love God, yet have answered ‘yes’ to any of the above – is our connection to the man known as Judas, tangible?
While today, Maundy Thursday, is a day to feel the pain and shock of Judas’ betrayal, it can also be a day to reflect on moments in our own lives … when we have betrayed God … when we have not forgiven another … when we have spoken, or thought unkindly of another, betraying our common humanity by our words, thoughts, tweets, texts, social media comments.
On this holy day, whether or not we ascribe to the Christian faith, may we receive the story of the man, Jesus, in a spirit of humility, and draw closer to one another, mindful of the ways betrayal has been part of our life. And, in spite of it, may we know that we are loved by the One who always loves unconditionally and who invites us to do likewise to others by expressing kindness, compassion and justice.
Ahhh, ’tis St. Patrick’s Day today. And, ’tis St. Gertrude’s Day today too! … “It happens every year. Patrick this and Patrick that. No one remembers me and my cats!” joked Gertrude.
Most people know about today being St. Patrick’s Day, and many around the world “become Irish for a day” for a variety of reasons. However, a lot of people don’t know that today is also St. Gertrude’s Day.
Who was St. Gertrude? She was the original ‘cat lady’ … a sweet lass who loved felines of all shapes, sizes, colours, ages, agilities/abilities, temperaments.
To all with Irish roots, all cat-lovers, all who see beauty in all people – “Fhéile Pádraig Shona Lá!” “May the dreams you hold dearest be those which come true and the kindness you spread keep returning to you.”
May this be a blessed St. Patrick’s/St. Gertrude’s Day for the world – its people – its animals – and particularly this day, its cats … with safety from explosions and war and starvation and fear.
Happy St. Patrick and St. Gertrude’s Day!
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Artist of St. Gertrude: Carolee Clark, King of Mice Studios, used with permission Irish blessing author: unknown
“I’m scared – afraid – terrified. J’ai peur.” These are words the world is hearing every day on the news, around the office, on social media, in our own heads.
For centuries throughout the world, there have been hurricanes, landslides, earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, fires, etc. that have struck fear in the hearts of people.
Cancer, Covid and other medical diagnoses have shaken and continue to shake people to the core.
The January 6th attack on the capitol of the U.S. terrified people who thought that civil unrest would be followed by civil war – or maybe WW111.
The unimaginable earthquakes killing over thousands of people are soul-wrenching and foreboding for those living on earthquake faults.
The Chinese balloon and unknown object that were shot down over the U.S., sparked frightening images of espionage and evoked the fear that nothing is private anymore.
Russia’s ongoing assault on the people of Ukraine, a daily reminder that if Ukraine falls, other countries will not be safe and neither will democracy.
The bombing of Iran by the US and Israel … the killing of the children/staff at the Iranian school … the killing of sailors in international waters … the death of US armed forces following orders in Iran …
And then there’s DJT, JDV, EM, the minions of Project 2025 and the daily decisions made and the horrifying consequences paid by others who have done nothing wrong except … looked different … spoke with an accent … were in the wrong place at the wrong time … somehow got onto a ‘list’ … didn’t vote the way DJT wanted them to vote …
Anxiety seems unrelating and fear is rising. Feelings of helplessness, abandonment, and lack of control overwhelm. Breathing becomes shallow. Hearts race. Minds won’t stop thinking.
Images seem everpresent: images of the children; the elderly; the disabled; the farewells; the frigid weather; the explosions; the baby buggies at the train station; the line-ups for food and water; the babies born in bomb shelters; the demolished hospitals / schools / churches; the bodies; the families running to escape the fires … the images haven’t stopped. Neither has the fear.
What to do in the midst of experiencing fear that is “gut-wrenching / can’t explain / keep-me-awake” type of fear that is being felt as the horror of evil surfaces and spreads? What to do if God seems absent? Is there anything we can do to allay the fear, or at least not have such fear so present all the time?
Perhaps there is … sometimes. And sometimes is often the only thing to hang on to.
Sometimes – admitting our fear to ourself, to another … helps. Admitting our fear can help move the darkness out and bring healing.
Sometimes – naming the evil … helps. There is power in naming the evil. The man known as Jesus did that … often. Sometimes – something as simple as saying, praying, thinking, whispering the word ‘peace’ as we gently, and slowly, literally inhale a second of peace into our body, mind and spirit – helps.
Sometimes – saying, praying, thinking, whispering the word ‘fear,’ as we literally exhale the consequences of that fear from our body … – helps.
Sometimes – reminding ourselves that though we may be experiencing God as absent, others are experiencing the presence of God in different ways: the selflessness of volunteers and community/social organizations; the plants/shrubs/flowers, the spontaneous laughter of a child; the medical and scientific miracles that continue to emerge and surface; the courage of reporters and journalists who speak the truth in spite of threats of job loss; the indefatigable decisions being made by Judges who are making rulings counter to what is expected by DJT; the peaceful protests …
Sometimes – creating something in the kitchen, garden, shop, studio, on the computer, in our Journal – helps.
Sometimes – repeating Dame Julian of Norwich’s words (“All shall be well. All shall be well. And all manner of thing shall be well”) can help and using our breath to say them: … as we inhale, say / think / whisper / pray / sing “all shall be well” … as we exhale, say / think / whisper / pray / sing “all shall be well”; inhale “and all manner of thing”; exhale “shall be well” – helps
Sometimes – remembering that somewhere in the world, every minute of every day, someone is meditating, inviting peace for other; sitting cross-legged and chanting; saying the Rosary; receiving Communion; reciting the Shema; praying the Daily Office; thinking / sending / praying / whispering good thoughts for the world; holding those experiencing fear in their heart, mind and spirit; thinking a comforting thought – helps
Each of these contribute to an energy force that is more powerful than negativity.
We can admit to saying/thinking “J’ai peur … I’m afraid” when we feel frightened, for when we release the fear in simply acknowledging its presence somehow, it doesn’t have the same power over us as it did before we admitted the fear within us.
Yes, I admit … “J’ai peur … I’m afraid.” But I refuse to let fear stifle my ability to speak out/speak up … I refuse to let fear paralyze me into social isolation … I refuse to let fear stop me from continuing to be informed, knowledgeable about the truth of what is happening … and I refuse to let fear tell me that there is no future.
I’m getting “up there” in the chronological age listing. Naww, let’s face it, I’m “up there!” Some of my friends are up here too – or are close by ,and they’re anxious. They’re anticipating all sorts of unpleasant things that are ahead, especially in matters of health, finances and overall well-being – from wrinkles to mobility/hearing/vision/dental/limb issues/loss of friends and more. I hear them say things like “I’m almost 70 or 75 or 80 or …” As if a particular age were a hurdle to “get over.”
The additional matter of the world feeling uncertain, (economically, politically, socially (feeling ‘heavy’ as some of my friends put it), it’s true. Responsibilities multiply. Losses accumulate. Personal disappointments surface. Business setbacks become reality. Family tensions, spiritual doubts can arise. Yet I’ve come to believe that aging gives something powerful: CONTEXT. As seniors, we recognize patterns; we remember other storms that passed. Context.
Aging has much to give. It can … teach self-acceptance: the urgency to prove oneself can soften into the focus on living truthfully … provide steadiness in decisions: shaped less by impulse and more by long-view judgment … expand a sense of compassion: as we understand that everyone is navigating their own unseen struggles … offer opportunities for self-reflection, humility and trust: showing growth in faith / spiritual life.
To be sure, aging doesn’t remove difficulty. Instead, it can strengthen our capacity to hold difficulty without being undone by it. In so doing, we realize that strength is patient and grows.
It’s true – there are seasons when change hits us in the face, feels unwelcome and is painful: when roles evolve, health shifts, long-held plans have to be revised. But change can also invite re-invention … opportunities to consider ‘possibilities’ as we learn to be intentional about holding on to what matters, and shedding what no longer seems to matter. And that includes downsizing material possessions.
Aging is, in a nutshell, an opportunity to continue ‘becoming.’ It’s not always easy. But it is meaningful. And surely ‘meaning’ (more than youth) is what sustains a life well-lived?
My late husband was a calligrapher and penned our favourite saying … “Age is a matter of mind. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” <Mark Twain>. Hans was a lot older than I, but that didn’t stop him (or me), from playing. It’s true, as George Bernard Shaw wrote “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” As much as I love Twain’s words, I love Eleanor Roosevelt’s words on this subject even more: “Beautiful young people are accidents of nature but beautiful old people are works of art.”
I like the thought that I’m a work of art – you’re a work of art – each of us, privileged to live into our senior years – are works of art! So I continue … facing the issues ahead, personally and politically … and believing, as CS Lewis said, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” One of my goals is to continue writing these ‘Soulistry: Artistry of the Soul’ reflections. Not having Hans by my side anymore, there is no one close by to share such reflections, so I write – “journal” in my blog.
What goal / dream are you setting? How are you a work of art? What ways are you dealing with what life hands you, with an attitude, a spirituality of playfulness? May we all remember that “Aging is not to mourn what is lost, but to celebrate what remains.”(unknown author)
It’s not a good day for many in the world. And especially not for those in Ukraine. Four years ago today, Russia invaded Ukraine.
On this, the fourth anniversary of that terrible event, tangling in colour helps distract me from the sterile black/white images in my mind of menacing trucks rolling down city streets, people hovering in bombed-out hospitals, children growing up terrified, and democracy on a fragile thread in that and far too many countries.
As we move about each day – as we drive, shop, create, attend our meetings, appointments, go to work/school/worship, may we think of the people of Ukraine and other places in the world where that same scenario is commonplace.
Let us think ‘hope’. Let us pray ‘peace’. Let us send thoughts of ‘protection’ to them. May freedom be theirs. May their reality change soon and may the people of Ukraine know that the world has not forgotten them.
Colour and Hope! I send them colour – and hope – this, and all, days. We need colour and hope in this world as reminders that rainbows still cross skies – somewhere. Reminders that children still dance and sing – somewhere. Reminders that freedom still exists – somewhere.
SLAVA UKRAINI!
********************** (An aside: this piece of ‘colour and hope’ was done on something called ‘scratch paper’. I don’t find it easy to work with, but love the surprising and unexpected colours that emerge and thought it the perfect medium for this reflection! That’s my hope and prayer for the people of Ukraine … that there will be surprising and unexpected victories for them that will remind them that there are people of every colour around the world who are praying, supporting, surrounding them with thoughts of love and protection.
For those familiar with Zentangle®, this is an attempt at a HQ fragment called ‘Obawa’.
In many parts of the world, tomorrow marks the beginning of a six-week period called the Season of Lent … a time of introspection – of “slowing down and taking stock.”
The Season of Lent is not signalling an end to the war in Ukraine or a recognition that very bad decisions, impacting the lives of countless lives are being made. But it can be an opportunity of metanoia. For those who observe the Season of Lent, many follow the practice of “giving something up” for Lent (meat, candy, chocolate, liquor etc), I’ve never liked that perspective. Instead, I choose to “put on” instead … put on love.
But why only for those who observe the Season of Lent? Why not everyone?
These are difficult times. It’s not unusual for people to be frightened, scared, terrified. It’s not unusual that negativity quickly spreads.
Over the years, many words have been used as metaphors for love. My metaphor for love this year is ‘baby stroller’. Yes, it’s a surprising metaphor, but this photo of a train station in Poland shows baby strollers left by Polish moms for Ukrainian moms escaping the war in Ukraine with babies in their arms. The Polish moms “gave -up” the convenience of the stroller for their own child and “put on” love – for people they didn’t even know.
For the Forty Days and Nights of the Season of Lent, I won’t be ignoring the reality of the political chaos. But when I speak-up-and-out about injustice, cruelty, evil, I’ll find a way to “even-the-playing-field”, in some way. Metanoia!
After reading far too many of the Epstein files, after reading far too much garbage about our Prime Minister (who not only is doing the very best he can, but is giving hope to many Canadians), after reading the “Monsters in Plain Sight” piece by Charlie Angus, this morning, my body, mind and spirit recoiled – even more than it has been doing lately.
I knew I needed to get outdoors. I knew I had to experience something soul-soothing. After a short car ride, I went for a little walk close to my home.
It was misty in the background before me. In the foreground, the barren tree stood tall and erect and the evergreen tree stood proud, seemingly “in charge.” The reflection in the water of the little island gently had me reflect on “upside-down” … like our world these days … like the “upside-down” disorientation deep within me as I read those articles.
The reflection only took a few moments of stillness, of observation of what was before me, around me, within me.
And then it came to me – I was experiencing “upside-down peace.” Upside-down peace that says that … even when it feels as if the world is upside-down … even if it only lasts a moment, peace is still possible.
As I stood looking at the view before me this morning, my soul inhaled the beauty my mind grasped the messages my heart became still for a moment. and in that moment, I knew peace.
