“In the earthly realm, what kind of trust most approximates your trust in God?” That was a question put to me this week. My answer was that I have never once doubted my mother’s love.
It has astounded me that through all the hard work of raising my four sisters and me, and all the grief we gave her (she raised five opinionated girls!), my Mom’s love for us remains, at its core, unwavering and limitless. My trust in the steadfastness of her love grew over time and repeated experience. By my adolescence, I was sure that it would always be there no matter what. I believe that if a child receives nothing else from a parent, trustworthy love is a rock upon which she can build a life.
When I ask teenage girls from challenging circumstances to name the most important person in their lives, almost all of them answer, “My Mom. Because she takes care of me.”
Their calm and grateful trust in their mothers’ care and my own experience illuminate my understanding of God’s motherly love – a constant, deep, and forgiving love that can be trusted despite my disappointing Her, turning my back on Her, judging Her, telling Her what to do, or rudely asserting my independence from Her.
My Mom recently wrote me about her experience as a young mother of five girls and how the women’s movement saved her. “I finally felt I had a right to my own life, and I redoubled my efforts to raise each of you girls to understand that you were as deserving of your place on earth as anyone, to have a backbone, and to have a sense of your own innate worth and strength.”
I believe that is what Mother God wants for all of Her daughters as well – to know that each of us is deserving of our place on Earth and to trust our innate worth and strength.
Even as an adult, my mother’s hug is still enormously comforting to me. Her embrace creates a feeling that is aptly described by the words of Julian of Norwich, the fourteenth-century mystic known for her theology of God as Mother:
“But all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
To be able to trust in that kind of love, whether from God or one’s own mother, is what I wish for everyone.
Posts Tagged ‘love’
A Mother’s Love
March 2, 2010Joy Returns!
February 22, 2010Many of you are aware of the sorry state I was in at Christmastime. I was down in heart, to be sure. I deemed it blessed then, only to realize later just how true that label was.
Yesterday, during a retreat at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Brother Curtis Almquist from the Society of St. John the Evangelist reaffirmed for me that when our hearts are broken – broken open – God can come in. Usually, God has been patiently waiting for a welcoming of His ever-available and powerful love.
I also find that when my heart is vulnerable, it is more sensitive to the slightest healing grace. Similarly, when my own will has repeatedly brought me to a dead end, I become far more attuned to the subtlest of Divine leadings.
So here we are eight weeks post-Christmas meltdown. And I’m deeply well. You see, after I placed my love life in the hands of God (with a touch of resignation), to my surprise, God delivered immediately. Now, I know that God often delivers in ways I don’t recognize. Yet this time, the gift came in clear-as-day and in such a form that I knew it, or rather he, must be from God.
A dear girlfriend once spoke of the comfort of being “well loved” in her long-term marriage even through its tests and trials. She wished for me the same feeling. I knew deep down that despite having been in a few romantic relationships in recent years, I had not been well loved in quite a while. Nor had I loved particularly well.
Perhaps I had to understand just how well I am loved by God before I could really experience that on a human level? Perhaps God wants me to know Him now through a man’s love? I will say that I’m amazed by the experience.
I heard a few lines of Psalm 30 yesterday that perfectly capture my gratitude for this gift I’ve received:
“O Lord my God, I cried to thee for help,
and thou has healed me…
Weeping may tarry for this night,
but joy comes with the morning.”
Joy did return, and boy, is it a good feeling! When I start to fear that this too shall pass, I take comfort knowing that joy and weeping are ongoing parts of life. I’ve come to trust that God will use each to deepen my relationship with Him.
In the meantime, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this.
Wow, what a sight!
February 15, 2010This weekend I had the immense pleasure of participating in WomanKind, an interfaith exploration of women’s spirituality hosted by the visionary St. James’s Episcopal Church in Richmond. It would not do the experience justice to recount all of the nuances here (such as the gorgeous Botticelli-inspired décor). However, I will share the most memorable moment for me.
It happened at the beginning of Saturday afternoon’s healing service. As I watched a parade of women, old and young, black and white, clergy and attendants make their way up the center aisle to the front of an estrogen-filled church; my eyes grew big as did my smile. Soon, the altar filled with women ministers and priests. I swallowed hard in disbelief and tears filled my eyes at the sight. There it was – ancient wisdom in feminine form.
After years of wondering if I would find a resonant place in a tradition about a man, a doctrine historically dictated by men and churches led predominantly by male clergy, the altar scene yesterday was startling and life-changing. I have been greatly inspired by masculine messengers and interpreters of God, including a recent embrace of the Ultimate Messenger. Nothing, however, has ever moved me more than this scene of my own kind – woman kind – delivering spiritual guidance in Christ’s name.
I know it sounds predictable coming from me to want to see women clergy. I wonder what it was like for the other 399 or so women in attendance – many of whom seemed to be followers of the Christian tradition. I believe that few would deny the lack of feminine spiritual role models held up for us to learn from, respect, and revere. The dearth of women spoken about in the Christian church was a major stumbling block for me in surrendering to this path, until I realized that Christ himself is the embodiment of what I consider most gorgeously feminine: care, love, compassion, service and community.
It isn’t that I don’t value what men bring to relationship, leadership and spiritual practice – I do, very much. Yet to surrender my heart, body and will to God is such a personal, vulnerable experience. If I am to do it within a particular tradition, I need to trust that I and all women are considered as valuable and valid as men in the eyes of the church. I’ve no doubt that we are equal in the heart and mind of Jesus, yet much of what has been built in His name has called into question the institution’s reverence for women.
Nothing can adequately convey the heart-opening power of seeing wise, white-haired female ministers with their warm smiles and distinguished voices sitting amongst an interracial mix of intellectually fabulous, young priestesses. Garbed in white robes with beautiful stoles, these women shared delivery of the Gospel and God’s spiritual food. The first prayer began, “O God, Mother of endless generations” – that alone would have sold me. The service went on to speak of “God in the midst of her” in Psalm 46 and to analyze the unconditional, deeply intuitive understanding of Christ’s power by a very poor, very sick woman as written in Mark 5:25-34. (Thanks to the flawlessly crafted and moving sermon of Dr. Linda Powell Pruitt.)
I had the intimate joy of witnessing this with my mother, an early 70′s feminist, who raised my four sisters and me to believe that something different from what she had lived as a young woman of the 50′s was possible for us. We both wondered how much more welcoming church might have felt to her as a girl and to independent young women today were this service their first experience of Christianity.
Even when the Christian church develops more balance of spiritual leadership, I will never forget my first time – yesterday at WomanKind – realizing what is possible and being sure that I belong.
13 Going on Fabulous!
February 11, 2010
I’ve just returned from my niece’s 13th birthday celebration in Portland. Let me tell you, 13 is the new fabulous! It brings me such delight to be in Libby’s company. I could listen to her wise, funny and poignant thoughts on life for hours. She is perceptive, inquisitive and completely accepting. She generates pure joy.
Her hugs last forever and she’ll still hold my hand when walking off the soccer field after a winning game. She she says things like, “I meditate in bed. I like to embrace the last few moments before I wake up,” and, “I love spending Sundays with Aunt Eleanor and Nanny Kathleen.”
Because she inspires me so with her genuine spirit and unique style (notice feline socks with flowered ballet flats in picture above), I’d like to say a word on behalf of teenage girls for I believe they routinely, unfairly, get a bad rap. Adults label teen girls as “difficult.” We approach them anticipating angst, closure and disregard. If that is what we expect from girls, that is the dynamic we will create.
For several years, I’ve been a part of Girls For A Change, an organization that respects girls for exactly who they are. I’ve seen many a girl, including those from challenging circumstances, blossom upon realizing that an adult genuinely cares about what she has to say.
As most of you may remember, it is damn hard being a teen girl – on the inside and the outside. Trying to be cool is usually masking painful insecurity. Our society doesn’t make it easy for girls to feel at peace with themselves. Among the twisted messages girls receive about their value, or lack thereof, are this week’s display of young women’s bodies in Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue and yet another Nicholas Kristof report of a young girl being repeatedly gang-raped in the Congo.
When I look into Libby’s eyes, I see her love-filled teenaged heart. I hope she is certain of my complete admiration. My wish is that every girl has at least one person who thinks she is the absolute cat’s meow.
Palms Up
January 26, 2010As a former fundraising professional, I feel compelled to give you – my investors of the heart – a progress report on my Year of Love as there have been some fabulous first quarter results! Here’s how things are stacking up:
1. “Contribute love to my community”: Launching 150 girls on 15 GFC Girl Action Teams next week!
2. “Create love through my work”: Come to WomanKind, the Women’s Circle or the GRCC Pink Bag Seminar to let me know how I’m doing!
3. “Love my body”: Continuing my hurt-so-good, hip-opening yogic pursuit!
4. “Express and experience fabulous love with a man”: In a Q2 report perhaps…
5. “Channel love to family and friends”: Gladly, this is an ongoing practice.
You know what though? The most impactful Q1 outcome was not part of the original proposal. I do indeed have a new love… God. I know; I know you were rooting for a real, live, in-the-flesh man. (And I know some of you may think I’ve gone off the deep end.) There may indeed be a he; however, what I’m writing about is He. The He that had to (and for me, has to) come first.
My God is a combo of Divine Masculine, Feminine and That-Which-Can’t-Be-Defined. For this Year of Love, it was God in masculine form that I needed. Unbeknownst to me, this is what I have hungered for, a hunger that no mere mortal could satisfy (and isn’t meant to.)
Going alone to my sister’s for Christmas one more time had brought me to my spiritual knees. I was offered a hand and I surrendered. I leaned in and against. I trusted. I had no other choice.
Sure enough, when I yearn to be held, I feel His arms. When I need to talk, He’s completely there. To this Being, I open my heart. I’ve fallen in love.
I thought I had “let go and let God” before (oh, about 500 million times!) Yet this is different. I knew it immediately. For the first time, I feel free from the pursuit of perfection. For the first real time, I’ve let go of the reins.
With each passing day, I trust more. When I start grasping onto the earthly good this reordering has brought, I remember the wise words of a friend: “Palms Up”. With palms up, I release that which isn’t mine and I receive that which is.
Many of you wrote me of your own proclamations including “The Year of Financial Security” and “The Year of Healthy, Happy Family.” What I offer for your quest is simply, “palms up, my friends, palms up.”
How would you love if…
December 14, 2009Yesterday was the first anniversary of my father’s death. Those who have been through the loss of a loved one (or perhaps a cherished pet) know that in the last few weeks, days and minutes, you feel completely powerless. There is nothing you can do to keep them here and little you can do to ease their suffering… except to love. Unabashedly and for once, unconditionally.
It’s of course quite human that it takes death to lead us to that purest and simplest of all acts.
Gone are the all the years of trying to get your parent, sibling or dog to do what you want and to be in some way different than how they are. All those “I wish you would…’s” don’t matter anymore. When you realize that the unfathomable is near, love is all that’s left. It’s effortless then.
Yet here we are, back on Earth, in the middle of the holidays. Sometimes, even though it’s what this season is about, pure love isn’t so easy when the potential for family dinner table chaos is just around the corner. We dread being off center, away from our routine and plunged into old dynamics we thought we’d outgrown. It is easy then to begin focusing on the shortcomings of our loved ones. Easy, when we think they’ll be around forever.
This morning in yoga I thought, “How I would love someone if he or she were holy?” As if he were perfect just as he is. As if I were in complete awe of his presence and felt deep respect for what he had come here to be and to do. There would be no expectation. No holding on. No tweaking.
And what would it be like to love as if I were holy. I imagined that I would look upon this person with an open heart, compassion for her soul and genuine yearning for her happiness. I believe it would be a feeling of unconditional love.
The thing is, we are holy. Maybe not saint like and certainly not perfect, but I believe we do have a bit (more than a bit) of the holy inside us. I believe it is possible to love like that. Not consistently or flawlessly mind you, and definitely not without commitment and practice.
If you try it – holding someone who really matters to you as if he or she were holy – I bet you will feel it. Even for just a fleeting moment.
For me it is most possible to do when I first take time to come home to myself, to the place that is really and deeply me. In this place, I don’t need someone else to be a certain way so that I can feel whole, safe or at peace. I am already whole, already safe and I’ve created my own peace.
When the holidays get busy and the party wine starts flowing, feeling grounded in ourselves may take a bit more attention and effort – perhaps a slightly longer workout or a few more minutes of meditation. Our growing ability to love another unconditionally and to be witness to their holiness is worth it.
I invite you to give this gift this year to those you love. You never know how many more chances you’ll have.
The Year of Love!
December 6, 2009When my sister and her husband were starting to create their family, she declared to him, “This is going to be the year of sex!” (It worked!)
So, on my 41st birthday, I’m declaring that the year ahead is going to be the year of LOVE! And since love always works (even in those mysterious ways that we don’t quite understand at the time), I know it’s going to be a super-powered, super-fun, super-fabulous year!
I commit to you today that I will make good on my declaration by: contributing love to my community by sharing what I have… discovering and creating love through my work in myriad forms… loving my body and taking care of my heart… expressing selfless love for and experiencing fabulous love with a man (whoever he may be!)… and channeling love to my family and friends through prayer, encouragement, laughter and acceptance.
In yoga this morning, my teacher Kyra read a poignant story* about Mother Teresa’s choice to start serving the West and her reasoning that while we may not be starving for actual bread on any comparable level to the people of Calcutta or Bombay, we are starving for the spiritual food of love.
When she received the Nobel Prize, Mother Teresa was asked, “What can we do to promote world peace?” She answered, “Go home and love your family.”
So, today, this little missive will be shorter than usual because a) love – generating it within yourself and sharing it with others – is all you need, and b) I have to go get a birthday pedicure (lovin’ my toes!)
xo for your own coming year!
Experiencing Life Through You and Me
November 30, 2009How could this be? Me? Writing about God all the time? I’m no God expert – I’ve got a million questions! Won’t I scare away potential clients? Shouldn’t I be talking about attracting true love, creating a fabulous career or manifesting the sexy, red, stretchy dress I want for Christmas?
Is this authentic? How could I be so into God? Yikes… that makes me a little different than I thought I was going to be. You see, I grew up feeling shocked and mad that kids in my high school said I would go to hell if I didn’t believe what they did. “Well,” I thought, “That’s not too fair now is it? I’m 16! I’m not perfect, but I try to be a good person. What kind of God would send me and my loved ones to hell just because we didn’t go to your church?”
More importantly, why would I want anything to do with that kind of judgment and exclusion? No way! I had enough heartache to deal with as a teenager much less worrying about going to hell.
So here I am 25 years later… not totally sure I fit within the Christian church, not really matching the low-key vibration of a Buddhist path, loving the gorgeous Hindu goddesses while knowing nothing about Hinduism, and coming from a family who finds spiritual grandeur and truth in nature. Yet lately, when I sit to write this weekly email about what is on my mind and heart (that I hope will be of some use for others), it keeps coming back to something about God.
(Note: if this ever gets too preachy for you or I start sounding like the high school people I just dissed, you are always welcome to send me a note or to simply unsubscribe.)
The thing is… it’s all God for me. This whole exploration of the depth and breadth of self, the fullness of life, and the sweetness and heartache of love is completely intertwined with the spiritual aspect of living as a human in the world and on the Earth.
This weekend I watched a simple, little, funny movie called “The Answer Man” about a renowned spiritual “guru” who is also a cranky, foul-mouthed, lonely guy. People come to him for the answers that he himself is seeking. It is in an unexpected love for a woman and her son that he begins to feel his authenticity and his connection to God again.
From that place, he offers to his girlfriend this beautiful line, “You are here so God can experience the world through your eyes…Through you, He falls in love with the world all over again.”
That’s the little nugget I’d love to offer you this week. It reminded me that there is a reason for our being here in exactly our unique form – so God can experience the world through our eyes, our skin, our breath, and our hearts.
For every yummy glass of buttery Chardonnay God gets to taste through my lips, you may share a cold Heineken. For every new crush that makes my heart skip a beat, you may allow God to experience a mother’s wide-open love for her precious new baby. And for every ounce of human anger and sorrow God can feel through the New York Times’ Nicholas Kristof’s description of injustice (ala this young man’s health care travesty), your passions may ignite a thousand different responses.
This week, I invite you (and myself!) to try this practice on for size: Let God feel what it is like to be human through you, your love, your body, your emotions and your actions. Notice if and how life feels different and whether little things seem a bit more magical and sacred. I’d love to hear how it goes.
