"Same thing that's scrolled across the stars is written under our skin…..new horizon, new horizon within." ~David Gray

It is a scientific notion that we are all made of the stardust that emitted from the birth of the universe. Whatever account of Creation we hold dear, this still remains true. As physicists and others who study the intricate on-going work of this amazing planet and solar system of which we are all a part will tell us, the molecules of our bodies are created out of stardust. It is a fascinating concept to get your head around.

The good news, and there is so much of it, that this elicits is that we are designed to be ever-renewing. The average lifespan of our skin cells for instance is 2-4 weeks. So we might say we have a new face every month or so. I realize that is simplistic but there is a level of truth to it. As we grow and age, parts of our bodies are always changing and taking on new shape. This is not always to our liking but remains true nonetheless.

All of Creation calls us toward a renewing. Across faith traditions,in the sacred stories that guide our lives, there is always the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth. The seasons teach us this. The trees and plants teach us this. Our very living teaches us this.

What new horizon is pulling you these days? What uneasiness within your skin is urging you to pay attention to the stardust waiting to shine? Are you in a birth cycle, a life cycle, or a death cycle? It is always a good thing to take stock of just where we are in this amazing circle of sacred story.

As I have watched the various flowering plants in our garden take their moment of center stage, I have been reminded that there are times to bloom and times to let go of brilliant color. The pansies so sweet and beautiful in May are now leggy and pale. The cone flowers, having worked for months to reach their full height, are now raising their sunny faces toward the sky. In just a few weeks, they too, will begin to fade making way for the next wave of newness, of color, of life. And so it goes.

Each part of Creation, including we human ones, have seasons imprinted within us. Yet each season calls us forward toward the new horizon within.

Enjoy the beauty of this summer weekend……..

"I will pour out my Spirit
   on every kind of people:
Your sons will prophesy,
   also your daughters.
Your old men will dream,
   your young men will see visions." ~Joel 2:29

When was the last time you have felt inspired? I have just spent several days in the presence of some very inspiring people, artists, writers, poets, preachers, musicians. Sprinkled among these artistic types were also other quiet voices, deep listeners that seemed to hold the space in which we were meeting, offering just the perfect spoken thought that caused everyone to stare into the middle distance with the look of "ah, yes" on their faces.

To be 'inspired' is to be in the Presence of the Holy. This inspiration can come in many forms….a good book,a well presented sermon, a beautiful piece of music, the wisdom of an elder, the joyful play of a child, the sight of a flower blooming, the calm with which a cat moves, the purposeful movement of an ant hill. To be inspired enlivens us, fills us with a forward motion, often resulting in emotion welling up that takes us by surprise.

One definition of the word 'inspire' is "to breathe on or to breathe life into." This definition is listed in the dictionary as an archaic one. Oh, I beg to differ. The ruach of the Holy,that Breath that blew over the deep and Creation was born, is still breathing, still enlivening. We see this with the dawning of each new day, in the birth of each tiny child, in the face of someone who has just connected with a deep realization.

Yet another definition of inspire describes the "inhaling, the drawing in" of that same sacred breath, that air that keeps us living, moving, finding our place in the world. Breathing in…..breathing out…….inspiring….being filled with Spirit….inspirited.

A common prayer at the beginning of many worship services is "open our hearts and minds by the power of the Holy Spirit." If we take this invocation seriously we are asking for something amazing, something powerful to happen in our midst. Come among us, breath over us, breath through us, Spirit. Come among us and allow our breath to become your breath and your breath to become ours.

Simply put: Inspire us.

"The moment Jesus came up out of the baptismal waters, the skies opened
up and he saw God's Spirit—it looked like a dove—descending and landing
on him. And along with the Spirit, a voice: "This is my Child, chosen and
marked by my love, delight of my life." Matthew 3(The Message)

This morning I attended a worship service as a visitor. This is unusual for me given I am in worship leadership most Sundays of the year. It was glorious to not know what might happen next, to be able to be a participant, to have my prayers be focused in a different way, to sing without leading. I was able to be present in a completely different way. It was a wonderful experience. I personally think all church goers should go outside their 'comfort zone' several times a year, attending churches other than their own. It is not only good for those who venture out, it is good for the 'visited' church and for the 'home' church. Every one comes back with new eyes.

This morning's service was graced with a baptism…..a beautiful baptism….with lovely words, an immensely happy family and a sense of connection to the gathered community. That gathered community today included me. As I was present to this young one….Sarah Genevieve….I realized that I was now connected to her life whether I meant to be or not. By being present today at her baptism, by witnessing her family's commitments to her, I was now tied to her. Though we may never see one another again, I am now a part of her story. All those present today are connected to Sarah Genevieve through the invisible lines of connection of Spirit. What an awesome gift! What an amazing responsibility!

I am sad to say that often people come to worship with little understanding of the immense story of which we are a part. Each of us comes to any given worship experience ready to have our needs met….whatever that may mean for us. We come to connect with the Holy and to offer our joys, sorrows, gratitude and questions. This is all good.

But what really happens….whether we own it or not….is that we become entwined in each other's lives. We share Breath, hear the prayers of those we know well and those we've never met. We share in the sacred stories and, if we are really present to the words, we are transformed in some way, becoming a part of that Big Story of faith.

All this makes worship risky business. Worship when done with true intention is not a spectator sport. It is a laying your life on the line experience. It is an opening your heart for the world to see event. It is a digging deep, take your shoes off happening. Or at least it should be.

I know this is all true because, you see, I looked into the round brown eyes of Sarah Genevieve, eight months new to world, the waters of baptism still fresh on her forehead, and she looked back. Her eyes told me we are bound together………forever.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference.
~Robert Frost

This week has been a travel week for me. After spending a
few days in Grand Marais,Minnesota, I am now
in Asheville,North Carolina for a few days. I am here for
a gathering of people who are interested in Creation Spirituality and the work
of Matthew Fox, theologian and author of such books as Original Blessing and
others. The conference is made up of an eclectic group of people with many
diverse ways of seeing the Holy in their lives. Through art, music, poetry,
story, and ritual we are learning and sharing with one another. It has been a
rich few days.

 In the midst of this gathering what has been a constant
source of inspiration are the Blue Ridge Mountains that surround me. In the morning this rich mountain range is cloaked in fog and
the mist of daybreak. The blue haze that appears to cover the tops of the
mountains touches the sky, explaining to my eyes what its name signals: the
blue of the mountains blends directly into the blue of the sky. There is a
comfort in being enfolded in the protective cocoon of these mighty peaks. Their
quiet power brings a sense of safety and a feeling of awe.  Waking up this morning, I thought it was
raining, but the sound floating in my window was really the sound of the early
dew falling through the trees.

 It is always good to have a change of scenery. I recognize
fully the privilege of this ability to travel, to see how others live, how the land they love shapes them. The gift of seeing the power and majesty of Lake Superior
and the languid, flowering richness of the Smoky Mountains in one week is more than gift. I know this and do not take it for granted.
Allowing the round, flat sounds of speech in northern Minnesota sink into me one day and opening up to the slow, musical speech of these Carolina voices in the
same week, has my aural senses swimming. I am listening to my native language
with an attentiveness that does not come on ‘normal’ days.

 However, a change of
scenery can come without ever leaving the place we call home. Perhaps it is a
state of mind, an intention, to open ourselves to the ways in which others see
the world. We don’t need the privilege and blessing of travel to help us have a
‘change of heart-scenery.’ This gift is as close as our ability to go out of
our well worn paths to see with new eyes, hear in new ways, shed our
preconceived notions about a person, rid ourselves of what we hold to ‘true’.
When we allow ourselves this kind of change of scenery, it is almost a forgone
conclusion that something wonderful will happen. Most likely we will be opened
to a part of ourselves we didn’t know existed or had been forgotten long ago, stuffed in
the back of the closet to gather moth holes.

Moth holes? 
Mountains? The choice is ours to make.

"Reverence is the recognition
of something greater than the self-something that is beyond human creation or
control,  that transcends full human
understanding. God certainly meets those criteria. Reverence stands in awe of
something-something that dwarfs the self, that allows human beings to sense the
full extent of our limits-so that we can begin to see one another reverently as
well.  The easiest practice of reverence
is to simply sit down somewhere outside, preferably near a body of water and
pay attention for at least twenty minutes.With any luck you will soon begin to
see the souls in pebbles, ants, small mounds of moss, and the acorn on its way
to becoming an oak tree." Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

Yesterday morning I took Barbara Brown Taylor's advice and spent more than twenty minutes sitting still, staring out at the glass surface of Lake Superior. With my first cup of coffee warming my hands in the cold morning temperatures, I simply sat, watching, allowing the stillness and beauty of the beginning of another day of my life wash over me. At first it was difficult to stop the jumping jacks my mind wanted to do. But somehow the calming influence of the water soon had its way with my busy brain. I found myself simply in a state of being. It was sheer gift.

As I watched the fishermen leave for the beginning of their work day, I was witness to their launch. I watched two grown men eating large cookies for breakfast, obviously fresh from their tents with hair sticking up all over their heads as it must have done when they were four years old. People walked their dogs with sleep still in their eyes as they were urged ahead by the next best smell of their furry friend. I watched as the world, at least my world, awakened.

I thought of the poet Mary Oliver's words: "I do not know what a prayer is, but I do know how to pay attention." Since so few of my mornings begin this way…sitting still…paying attention….I wondered how my days would be different if this became a regular practice. Of course the gift of the presence of Lake Superior does make a difference. It is impossible, I believe, to not find some sense of peace, perhaps even prayer, when looking out at what one of my traveling companion's called 'our ocean.'

If you are reading this, your day has already begun in whatever way it usually does. But tomorrow awaits. May you, may I, find a way to begin the gift of the next new day with at least twenty minutes of sitting still, of simply being. If a body of water is not near, may we find ourselves near some natural thing that can bring a similar rhythm of calm to our breathing. And in that breathing, in that sitting, may we see our own souls and their connection to all that lives.  May we begin our day….praying.

On Friday night my family attended a performance of Cirque du Soleil. What a
marvelous experience! The sheer unbridled joy of people coming together to
watch feats that seem impossible, that cause people to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ out loud
is so gratifying. I am not sure what I enjoyed more: watching the performance or
watching people WATCH the performance. As the lights hit the faces of those
around me, especially my now-adult sons, watching their faces erupt with
laughter or awe, simply filled me to over flowing.

The performance included the usual: A juggler, tossing
plates, balls, knives and bowling pins into the air. The tightrope walkers high
above the audience balancing on bicycles and chairs causing us to keep one eye closed for fear of their falling. The two young women who were contortionists,
twisting their bodies into all manner of shapes that didn't seem humanly possible. The clowns whose entrances
were spaced just perfectly so we could take a breather from holding our bodies
tense from the more daring acts. The young acrobat who stacked chair upon chair
hundreds of feet into the air balancing first on his hands, then his hands,
then his head. The most amazing, at least to me, were the two men on the
humongous gerbil-like wheels that turned and defied gravity, spinning, turning,
flying at break-neck speeds into the air. I held my breath, looked through
closed fingers as if watching a horror movie…..only this was real, happening right before
my eyes.

At some point in the middle of the performance, I started
thinking about the trust these people must have, must demand, in order to do
the work they do. Their very lives depend upon the people they live with and
work with to keep them from falling, from tripping, from perhaps even dying. I began to think about what
it would mean to have that kind of trust in every work setting. What would it
mean for each of us to trust our co-workers in this full-bodied way? What if we
needed to work so closely with one another, sharing the breath and the beat of
the heart of another so we wouldn’t fall down and hurt ourselves? What would it
be like to look into the eyes of the person at the desk or office nearby and
say: ”I’m trusting you with my life.”? This is certainly what the Circque du
Soleil performers must do twice a day for every day they are doing their
amazing work.

As for me, I’d like to think I also have the grace to be a colleague most like
the juggler’s assistant. Wearing a beautiful costume, her smile rich and pure, her
sole job is to hold the space for the one who tosses, pitches and throws. She
hands him what he needs to look good, to be successful. At the end of each part
of the act, her other job is to focus the attention on the one who is the
center of the attention.  With a flourish
of her lovely arms, she affirms her co-worker with a “Tah-Dah!” and the
applause ensues, the audience wildly affirming his skill and expertise.

Each of us, in our work setting, with friends or family,play certain roles. In your work place, what role do you play? My prayer is that each of us
might work more like these amazing performers…….knowing the trust we must
have in one another……the trust that the other is looking out for our very
lives.And that the end of the day, we each might lift our lovely arms toward one another with a "Tah-dah" and stand in the arm glow of the applause….together.

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"Let the world
have its way with you,
luminous as it is
with mystery
and pain-
graced as it is
with the ordinary."
~Mary Oliver, excerpt, Summer Morning

We have a magical outpouring in our back yard. Under the shade of the magnificent black walnut trees whose roots often keep anything from growing to its fullness, are the sweetest wildflowers. Over the years we have planted so many things that have not flourished and yet each year we give it another try. My husband, fueled by hope, spread one of those premixed bags of seeds under the trees in early spring. And now we are seeing the fruits of his labor. Somehow the poison of the roots of the tree held no power over the wildness of these prairie flowers. Miniature poppies bloom a salmon color while cornflowers burst their blueness against the summer green.(Is there any color like that blue?) And there are countless others whose names I don't know but can only be described as simple, sweet, perfect.

I could spend all day looking at these simple gifts of nature. None are showy like most of the flowers we planted that aren't labeled as 'wild'. The wildflowers are content to be the backdrop. They do not need to be the main attraction. In some ways it turns the word 'wild' upside down, doesn't it?

Looking at these sweet, simple, ordinary blossoms, I think of all the people I know who go through their lives like wildflowers. They bloom where it seems impossible, shining forth color where its most needed, being wild in situations or places where it's unexpected. These people work quietly behind the scenes, caring for children, washing dishes, holding the hand of someone in pain. They are not the lead in the play. Instead they add the quiet burst of color to an otherwise dreary palette in any ordinary day.

Who are the wildflowers in your life? Who quietly brings a smile to your face when you encounter them? Whose presence adds just the right dash of color to your life?  A summer day like this one might provide the perfect opportunity to take note of those wildflowers blooming all around us. It might be the perfect day to notice them, perhaps even thank them, for the gift they are in your life. Even wildflowers need a bit of nurture and care now and then.

"God will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in their hearts." Koran 13:11

I ran across this quote from the Koran a few weeks ago in something I was reading. It is always good for me to be reminded that the world religions have more in common than most of us claim on a daily basis. It seems it is so much easier to talk about our differences than it is to lift up all the many ways we believe, honor, bless in the similar ways. For some reason, as humans, we need to create an 'other' to be able to more fully define our unique place in the world. This practice has not served us well.

It seems the heart and the many attributes we ascribe to it carries across cultures, across religions, across faith traditions. The idea of 'changing our hearts' is found so often in the Christian scriptures as well as the Hebrew texts of our ancestors. We often speak of someone who has changed their behavior for the better by saying 'they must have had a change of heart.'

Now we know that in reality we cannot literally change our hearts except in the instance of a heart transplant. But we often do have a transformation so deep in us that it seems the core of who we are, our heart, has been changed. This organ that keeps us alive as it beats and courses blood through our bodies, that can be broken, that can seem to ache when we are in or out of love, is both real and metaphor to us.

Last week my eyes caught sight of the bumper of the car in front of me on the freeway. "Loving Kindness is my Religion." I smiled and my heart warmed. I glanced quickly at the woman driving. She seemed calm and serene to me…..it could have been my imagination….and she became a prophet for me. It felt good to know that she was headed out into the world to spread loving kindness, acting on 'her religion'. I prayed she had others in her holy club. I prayed I might become on of them.

As I sat down at a table where I would participate in several meetings, one after the other, I wrote on the tablet of paper in front of me: Loving kindness is my religion.  At different times in the meetings, when conversations were difficult, when decisions needed to be made, I glanced down at the words of my freeway teacher.

I felt my heart change. It was a good feeling. I hope my actions followed closely behind. I pray they continue to do so.

I helped a friend celebrate a significant birthday this past week. It was a lovely party, good friends, wonderful food, lots of laughter and a few tears. At one point of the party she offered a toast to her mother who died only a few weeks ago and her new granddaughter who will be born in a very short time. She recognized that she was 'perched between generations.' It was a sweet moment to recognize the life events of this dear friend.

Later in the day I thought of how we are all, in a sense,'perched between generations'. Sometimes we are simply more aware of it than others. As I have been blessed to celebrate so many high school graduations over the last months, I have honored the generation whose births I have witnessed. This particular generation I have watched toddle, then run and now walk bravely, yet with appropriate trepidation, into a new world. At each of these graduation parties the grandparents present look on with pride and satisfaction. The parents, myself included, are still wobbling in a state of wonderment and uncertainty. Wonderment at where the time went and uncertainty for what our children's success and growth will bring, not only for them, but for us. The title 'empty-nester' still has a complicated ring.

And so it has always been. Children are born, they mature and grow. Parents learn to let go and find new ways of being parents. Grandparents look on and remember what their dreams were for their children, grieving loss and celebrating success, whatever those terms mean to them. Each of is always perched between generations.

One of the great gifts of working in the church is that I am privileged to be a part of important life events with people. Last week I celebrated the baptism of a beautiful baby whose mother I knew as a vibrant, inquisitive child. It was a blessing. In just a few moments I am off to sit at the bedside of one of the saints of our community who is the last days of her earthly life. It will also be a blessing. Once again I will touch that thin place of knowing that the membrane between the generations is  beautifully permeable. The blessing comes in knowing that the Spirit holds the web gently so none of us fall through the weave.

"God's love is everlasting and God's kin-dom endures from generation to generation." Daniel 4:34