Just Faith, Everyday

“Blessed are they who are poor in Spirit; theirs is the kingdom of God.” This start to Jesus’ Magna Carta, a reminder to us that the natural laws of humanity built into creation by the Creator have significance. That we are some and at times poor in Spirit; we mourn; there are the weak, the hungry and thirsty for righteousness, the merciful, the clean of heart, the peacemakers. There will always be those persecuted. Jesus acknowledges FIRST that these souls exist—he sees people where they are—and he blesses them, giving them hope that one day the world may see them in these blessings, but for now, God DOES.  To start it, Jesus acknowledges the presence of those poor in Spirit and gives them the Kingdom for it. These are the poor he knew or got to know, because he was in the habit of befriending, approaching, or being with. Magdalene is a prime example, as well as numerous others. Theirs is the kingdom, on earth as it is in heaven, as Jesus expands for our sake in his formulation a...

In the wee hours of the morning, much like Scrooge, I made a discovery. Unlike him, after years and years of reading and watching Dickens’ story of Christmas, I saw a parallel I have never seen before until now, already with the mind that the story as Dickens saw it is a conversion story. It’s really moreso an Examen, in the spirit of St. Ignatius. If I were really minute about this I’d look closer at Marley, even, and the way he questions Scrooge to consider why he does not trust his senses—how Ignatian is that?!—and then got Scrooge to *sense* inasmuch as intuit and logically believe what was going down around him. That part is actually one of my favorites. But more on that later. The movement of Dickens’ story, from Stave I to Stave V, follows spirits, beings which seem a series of revelations and questions for Scrooge, who, as spiteful as he may be, is still open to considering. In every section there is a moment where he engages the spirit in question, sometimes because he r...

  Passion of Christ, strengthen me.   The line from the Anima Christi I say before receiving communion every week, before feeding my weary soul after more challenges and concerns meet me along the way. This line which stayed with me, as if whispered in my ear, as if a specific kind of encouragement.   I am by nature a passionate person, and have always taken heart in this along with all the Anima Christi prayer. I’ve thought since I was a teen the idea of being “inebriated” was counterculture built in, and that still stuns me, but being a word nerd does not surprise me at all, the Latin base and root words foundational to my understanding, as well as my Portuguese understanding: sanctifica, salva, inebria, lava, conforta, absconda me. Sanctify, save, inebriate, wash, comfort, hide me.   The words immediately remind me of the part in A Wrinkle in Time, when the motherly Beast creature completely wraps our main character in comfort and protection from ...

It’s be a long while since I have posted, and I am noticing that my last post was about the coming-to-life fig tree, which is now shedding its leaves like the Whomping Willow in the Harry Potter series. It makes me smile to see, each time. The seasons have continued onward, marching past our fears, doubts, and deep struggles. A long, hard road, friends, a long hard one—as I am sure it has been for you.  Only this week have my children been able to gain access to the vaccine, for which I find myself utterly grateful and humbled. Generations of humans have grappled with pandemic illness, with disease which we’ve studied and tried our best to overcome—to heal one another. I find myself in a position to help others move toward healing internally inasmuch as any of us need to heal physically from anything at all. I’m equally grateful for the many friends I have in my life dedicating their own to the study of those things which need eradication in our current world: illness; racism; inju...

It’s that time of year when the fig tree in our yard, which has grown exponentially every year since we have lived in this home, really starts showing its fruits. My husband, a tried and true Southerner, is a blur of canning, and loves to make fig preserves and syrups, and I marvel at the intricate process and his obsession with it. Thank God for the greenness of earth, which offers us so much in its simplicity to keep us in tune and interested in creation, grounding us in reality.   I thought of this when I realized this week I’d completed my goal of achieving spiritual direction certification, something I’ve been thinking about and working toward since 2016 (perhaps longer even). Now I’m unable to see life, to see humans and their intricacies, in any other way. I find it hard to listen in any other way than with this attention St Ignatius in his 500 year old practice of the Spiritual Exercises has taught me, though I am finding this voice present outside my sphere of religi...

  To be in a spiritual wilderness is itself a powerful experience, and those who are willing seek to come to terms with that experience have massive steps to take. I’ve felt this wilderness for some time now, and I know you have, too. So many of us have felt the pain of betrayal, loss, and self-doubt in this past year alone. Now, in this time where many of us are transitioning, deciding how to see anew moving forward, how to start fresh in the practice of awareness, is something I think will make or break our world as we enter it. The beauty in the purification and emptying of self---this alone is a most satisfying and connecting way of prayer and meditation. It can start simple: sit and watch a bird, or some light at your favorite time of day. Listen to the quiet, or the noise, in your house, and fix on what makes it good. Let go some of your expectations and then note how this feels to you. Talk out loud, in any way you like or need, to the One who Created you. Emptying your...

  I already posted this month, and my reflection on this giant waiting room we’re in together still stands, but because it is the last day of the year, of THIS year, this interminable year, I want to leave you with one more reflection.  That the hardest of lessons we each experienced this year have real meaning for us now and forever.   It began for me on that bicycle I got back in April or May. It took awhile, but dawned on me that this bike, which is a one speed, simple, straightforward bike, was much like what I had as a youth. Moreover, that I was riding it as I did as a youth: I took the girls to the one flat cul de sac in the neighborhood and rode round and round and round it, over and over, to the point they got sick of it, the sheer repetition.   I, somehow, did not.   And this is where my realization began: that something from my youth had prepared me for the mundane, exceedingly boring, soul-killing repetition, the groundhog day effect o...