Are you taking time to feel the Mystery?

           I was a tourist, strolling along the shore of Lake Michigan, when I spied two dots of yellow bobbing on the water. Two women, their bright yellow kayaks enclosing them like fins,  came ashore. One of the women--Louise--explained how she started kayaking.
        "I was an over-achieving workaholic, climbing the ladder of success, working 70-hours a week, with no outside life.  And then I got cancer."

          After a year of treatment, Louise had a "a whole different perspective." She began working reasonable hours and spending her weekends outdoors.  Hiking. Camping. Eventually, kayaking.
         "My illness made me realize there's more to life than business achievement. There is a profound Mystery larger than and I.  In my kayak,  I feel as if I'm part of the boat, the water, the sky, the whole Mystery." She raised her arms, brought them down, raised them again. "I give thanks as I paddle."

          "Paddle prayer?" I said.
          She smiled. "A good name for it."

         So often we get sucked into the tyranny of the urgent. Sometimes it takes a crisis to remind us that --no matter how hard we might try--we are not in complete control of life's flow.  Are you staying balanced? Don't over-focus on career.
         The next time someone says to you, "Don't work too hard," why not reply, "I won't."
And then---don't.  
          Take time to experience--and appreciate--life's Mystery.


          

A caregiver's grief

Riza is 33. Her husband Tod has early-onset Parkinson’s disease. She told me, “I am grieving the loss of our dreams.”  Their dreams of having children, of watching Tod's career expand, of continuing activities  they previously enjoyed—like hiking and camping.  Riza is feeling caregivers’ grief:  the relentless on-going process brought about, not by a loved one’s death, but by the changed aspects of life.

Caregivers’ grief seldom comes in a neat, orderly package: you might feel tearful and hopeful at the very same time.  Your emotions can take as many twists and turns as your loved one’s illness. Sometimes you'd  like to run away from it all.

Riza's Prayer: O Lord, as I travel this journey

I did not choose, 

Strengthen me to cope with the messiness.

The turmoil.

And most of all,

Comfort me and my loved one.

Help us to bear our tears.

Pedaling my prayer

Last week I “pedaled my prayer” on a five-day, 385-mile bicycle ride up a few hills and down again through the Fox River Valley in Wisconsin, from Watertown to Green Bay and back. Sixty-two riders breathed in the fragrance of Wisconsin’s dairy farms, waved to the black and white cows in the fields, admired the lush green tidiness of the state, and tried to laugh off the drenching rain on one of our days of riding.

I was a little worried at the start: Could I manage to bike 68 miles a day?

As it happens any time we successfully step outside our comfort zone, I felt a great sense of accomplishment when I did manage, even on the toughest day when we faced the big 3: hills, headwinds and heat.

And I truly did pedal my prayer because bicycle tires going ‘round and ‘round remind me of prayer beads, and it was easy, as I pedaled, to fall into the cadence of “Jesus, mercy, Christ, have mercy.” Or, “God loves me, Jesus loves me.”

Think about a time when you stepped out of your comfort zone and succeeded in something you weren’t sure you could do. I remember a woman who attended one of my women’s talks and who said to me afterwards: “I found the courage to start law school at age 42 once I discovered I could stand on my head in yoga class.”

Whatever the accomplishment, we feel, “Hey, if I could do this, why I can do that scary thing over there.” And isn’t that how we grow, psychologically and spiritually, throughout our lives?

Feeling stressed?

Does the following speak to you? I'm quoting from my book,
GRACE ON THE GO: Quick Prayers for Determined Dieters

Okay, God, here’s the way I feel right now.
Like the inside of a clothes dryer.
All hot and bothered.
With my ‘stuff.’
Worries and fears and stress, oh my
Are tumbling and tossing around
In my mind until
It makes me dizzy.
When I feel like this, I don’t want to pray.
Prayer is just one more stressor.
Who has time or energy
To hallow your name?
(I’m being honest now.)
When I’m stressed,
I wish someone would hallow me.
Help me open the door of this dryer, dear God,
So I can cool down, and then maybe
Pray my gratitude
For all the good in my life.

Does wishing make it so?

Isabella, my three year old granddaughter, said to her daddy, “Put on your shoes, Daddy, and let’s go get Grammy at the airport.” How sweet, I thought, when my son Andy emailed me her comment. She wanted to see me!
But here’s the rub—I wasn’t at the airport.
A month ago, though, when Isabella put on her shoes,climbed into her car seat, and her daddy drove to the airport---there was Grammy! So Isabella figured that all she had to do was repeat her actions and Grammy would appear.
She’s at the age when children think, “If I cover my eyes, nobody can see me.”
We grown-ups chuckle at children’s mistaken understanding of the way the world works, but it occurs to me that sometimes we do the same thing---especially where God is concerned.
If I pray, “Oh Lord, please make such-and-such happen in my life,” and it doesn’t happen, [If Grammy isn’t at the airport], I may sigh and say, “Huh! Jesus said, ‘Ask and you shall receive,’ but look, I did ask and I didn’t receive. Guess that proves it, prayer doesn’t work.”
Nooooo. If Isabella doesn’t see Grammy when she wants to see her, this doesn’t mean Grammy will never appear. It means Grammy comes on her time frame, not Isabella’s.
And we need to be clear about what we are asking God for. Am I motivated to call into play God’s kingdom on earth? ["Your kingdom is come when your will is done"] Am I praying to be open to God’s will—rather than my own? To believe that God has my greater good in mind?
Or am I merely “wishing” and calling it prayer? Like a little girl who thinks she can wish her Grammy into being there?
Maybe this is something to think about.