I was thinking this as we got out of the car in front of the San Jose airport in Costa Rica.  We were flying home.  The driver was paid and tipped.  I would never convert this money back into US dollars as it would be a too much of a hassle for less then $10.  I knew when I got home I would stuff my few colones in a drawer, only to discover it again a few years from now…almost useless to anyone.

 Then I saw him.  An old man sitting in his wheel chair, missing parts of both legs clutching his begging jar with the words crudely written, God Bless.  I felt elated as I walked over to him. Looking him squarely in the eyes and whispering, God Bless, I handed him the money.

 Absolute joy broke across his face, because here, $5000 colones is a lot of money.  What I could easily stuff in a drawer thoughtlessly can make his life easier, if just today.  Whenever I see a beggar I think of God and I want to share.

 I didn’t always believe this as I used to think beggars to be losers really.  If they wanted get off the streets they could was my thinking.  I wasn’t going to support their bad habits and drinking to say the least.  I then saw the movie Conversations With God and my entire belief was altered.  I realized how easily any of us could fall into this place with a few poor choices or even no choices, just a health crisis.

 I started looking at the homeless not as strangers but like me.  Haven’t I been like them?  Wouldn’t I go buy a bottle to comfort me if all was seemingly lost?  Haven’t I struggled for years with enough too? 

 This is when I decided to give – to show the world, including myself, I am a person who gives to the homeless for no other reason than gratitude.  I am grateful for these opportunities to share – out loud, without judgment.  Frankly I am joyful because I know I am saying to the world, “I live in the hand of God, all my wants will be met. Here is my open hand – outstretched for you, let me help you…”

 When the homeless man at the airport took the money from my hand, we looked deeply into each others eyes and before he could say anything, I said thank you.  He smiled, nodded his head and thanked me too.  It was I who felt blessed. 

 I felt like I had slipped into an old bible story with the stranger knocking at the door, begging for help, and I answered the door, warmly, knowing I have much to share easily and effortlessly… 

During the past couple months I have been witness to death.  A dear friend’s mother, small children and friends have died recently.  It has been an amazing lesson in living…

 Now is your time.  Today.  Nothing and I do mean nothing can make you appreciate life more than death.  Peace is to be enjoyed today and it is a choice…

 I have been honored, humbled and moved to receive updates of from a CaringBridge journal.  (CaringBridge.Org is a web site created to help you stay connected with loved ones during a serious health event.)  An old college frat brother of my husband’s is dying of brain cancer.  His wife updates the journal every few days.

 I can not begin to express how profoundly moved I am by her courage and grace as she moves through this transition.  Her beloved, the father of their child, her very best friend is moving onto another shore and she can but watch from the banks…How do you say good-bye?

 She is doing it well – celebrating small successes, humor, abounding love, tears and humbly she measures her days in conversations and words.  I am so grateful to be able to be an intimate witness of this family’s journey – I am better for it.

 Instead of shutting down, this woman’s heart bursts open – she has made to choice to celebrate and savor this moment.  Yes, she has made a choice to get into the boat with her husband.  To hold his hand until he reaches his own new shore…But she can not walk with him on his new beach, she must go back to the life they created together before this strange path unfolded.  She can only see in part right now…

 A couple weeks ago a dear friend’s mom died.  Unfortunately for this family there were many things left broken.  There are eight siblings in the family.  Before meeting the other siblings at the funeral, I only heard stories of the bickering.  In my mind I saw little kids fighting about who loves me best, hence when I saw this motley lot I was shocked to see they were all old people with gray hair.  For many of them, they had made the choice to be angry – forever. 

 Let’s be clear, most of us did not get the childhood we wanted.  There were real disappointments, betrayals, maybe violence and here we are.  I would say 90% of all parents are trying to do there best.  Unfortunately the best someone’s got can be stunning inadequate at times… 

 The wife I spoke of early could have made the choice to be angry – the situation is unfair.  Her husband was well just a year ago and now here they are.  I dare say this wasn’t the ending she wanted – it is cut too short. 

 And she responds with love, savoring the moments, the surprising conversations, thankful for the prayers holding them up and finding comfort in the sure knowledge – today she can only see in part, one day, one day she will see all…

 Information to create your own network of support through the CaringBridge.org. 

Today I invite you to stop complaining.  When I turn on the TV or radio, I hear the suffering of thousands in Haiti.  These people who had literally nothing have even less today.  It is heart-breaking as well as stunningly unfair.  You may wonder, where can God be?

 He is there, has been there all along with the least among us.  He has been working through the hands of aid workers and UN peacekeepers, but the need is so great. 

 Later in the day yesterday I heard someone complain about driving in the snow, and another ringing with work stress…I thought – what luxury.  We have the luxury of complaint – finding problems where often there is none.  We have the luxury to worry about everything because our basic needs are met.  We have shelter, food and education, we are blessed by the country we were born into…

 Thus today, try not to complain.  Just focus on the blessing of where you are…There is food, clean water, available doctors, shelter, so much more than our brothers and sisters in Haiti, not to mention much of the rest of the world. 

 If you are reading this – you are blessed.  You may feel lost, alone.  You may even be suffering and you are still blessed. 

 Support Rescue in Haiti.    

For some Christmas is about the presents, the meals or maybe seeing old friends and family…but for me, this is Mary’s time.  I adore Mother Mary.  Through her, I have learned to be a better me.  Oh sure, this may sound trite, even a touch phony – but it’s true. 

 I did not always feel this way.  I struggled with Mother Mary for years.  I didn’t understand how she could just stand by and watch Jesus die on the cross.  How could she not throw herself before the soldiers shouting, take me, take me instead?  What kind of mother was she?  I discovered, the best.

 When my own son was hurt I came to know Mary’s heart.  Oh did Mary love her son.  She loved Jesus so much she was able to stand at the cross as he bled and bled, until finally shouting out his last.  Mary believed in Jesus and his own separate purpose. 

 Was it difficult?  Unimaginably painful, just ask any parent of a suffering child.  Some parents can’t stay, some runaway or reject seeing their child in pain.  But many more faithfully stay and look for cures.  Still others find grace when there are no cures.  And if they are looking, each discovers the grace of Mary.

 Mary stayed – at the feasts and sadly, at the cross too.  As far as we know she did not try to sway Jesus from his purpose, she loved him.  She trusted his boyhood days that found him arguing with the rabbis in temple when he should have been in the fields.  Or his many trips to the desert when he would came back ablaze with the divine, overflowing with new ideas.  She trusted Jesus.    

 She also trusted in the unseen divine that sometime requires much…Did she not know herself the cost?  The sting of judgment?  Pregnant and without a husband, forced out.  Mary knew all too well the cost of faith…

 Mary has come to me many times throughout my life.  I am unbelievably blessed to have such intimate moments with her.  The first time I really experienced the presence of Mary as an adult I was overwhelmed.  My first thought was I am not worthy, there are more important people/problems than me.  I felt her outpouring love even more keenly at that moment and the words, “You are my beloved child, nothing is more important” boomed in my mind. 

 Words can not properly express the magnitude of this moment for me.  The best I can say is my life split – before I was alone and after, I was forever held.  Not only did I realize I was held but that everyone was being held by unseen forces at every moment.  I saw ways in my own childhood that Mary’s presence had been there even though I couldn’t see it at the time.

 Here’s the important part – bad things still happened and I am still the beloved child.  I’ve made peace with my past.  Even though there was certainly hardship, I know I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it. 

 Again, may sound trite, easy answer, but it’s true.  Happiness is usually standing right next to you, but only you can truly believe you are worthy to partake in the peace…You’ll have to stop beating yourself up, judging your own failings – real or imagined, you’ll have to allow yourself to come down from your own self-imposed cross into the waiting arms of peace.  She’s just waiting there, loving you just the way you are, patiently waiting for you to come home…

 Merry Christmas

You either like Lewis Black or you deem him annoying – I am of the former group.  I enjoyed this book immensely particularly chapters jesus loves me, this I know; golfing in the kingdom and in the land of seagulls and gingham.

 Black is honest and funny.  He loves the ritual and mystery of a ‘higher power’ yet hates it’s translation through the tongues of fools, conmen or worse, murderers.  It seems to rattle his senses a bit and for a man who protests at having no faith, me thinks he protests too much.  An examined faith is a living faith.  I would say Black’s religion has a lot of wicked humor, love for all and a healthy dose of raunchy sex.  Enjoy!

Sure, at first glance it would seem these two women have very little in common, but let’s ponder this idea: both were too young when one afternoon their lives changed forever; both were strong & independent; and both were fiercely loyal. 

 Scarlett was my first hero.  I read Gone With the Wind probably six times before I was eighteen.  I loved that Scarlett was tough as nails all while looking good and batting her eyelashes.  I instantly connected to her love of the land – her red earth…Obviously the Irish thing was a huge pull, but I loved that Scarlett grew-up too.  Her heart and its wantings changed with time and age, from men to friendships. 

 Like Scarlett, I didn’t appreciate the value of female friendships until after I had had children – women were always competition before. Take Melanie – she was no simpering fool although she often appeared helpless due to her ill health, but time and time again she supported Scarlett when no other would.  Whereas Ashley appeared to be noble and forthright, but really he was an anchor to the past instead of the rock Scarlett first perceived him to be.  Melanie was the rock…and Scarlett.

 Scarlett would do anything, say anything to protect her beloved Tara and what was hers.  Of course there were costs in this.  Things were sticky – as she saved Tara and gave her family a home, she stole her sister’s fiancée, all while penniless and gorgeous in her new green, velvet dress, a.k.a. the parlor drapes.  How could you not love her???

 Mother Mary wasn’t so easy for me to attach to initially.  First off – the story of a virgin birth, can we say tramp?  Cover-up?  It took me years to allow the possibility of this story, the leap of faith.  I had to come to understand the teachings and environment of these stories.  I discovered there was much more space in the details of the events. 

 As you may know Jesus was a Jew and his story was originally told by spoken word through his disciples – something akin to a Rabbi.  Well, one forgets that the Rabbi told stories and allegories to teach their followers – the details were shifted a bit to keep the story interesting and connect to audience they spoke before.  They were, in many cases, the entertainment of the day.

 For example, Jesus was forever going off for 40 days – to the desert, in isolation, whatever, but did he go off for forty days?  Back then, when someone said, “forty days,” it just meant a long time.  The audience then knew this; however it is us, the exact interpreters that need things to be black and white.  This taught me about flexible thinking…but I digress, back to Mary. 

 Mary has always challenged me not only by the virgin birth, but also, how could she just stand there during the crucifixion of Jesus?  How could she not shout out, “Stop, stop, take me.  Take me, please, please, take me…”  What kind of mother was she???

 It took me years to discover she was exactly the kind of mother I strive to be everyday.  She supported her son and the decisions he made for his life because she trusted him…and God.  This was Jesus’ life and she stood by, faithfully until the end. 

 How could she deny the truth of what Jesus predicted to unfold?  Hadn’t she also heard Gabriel announce her own difficult path?  How many called her a tramp as she walked by? Perhaps her village shunned her…but she accepted her path and held fast to her own truth.  How could her child do less when so called?  And again, where else would Mary be, but at Jesus’ feet as he shouted out his last? 

 I believe, Mary knew the glory to be on the other side for Jesus.  You see, Mary knew magic and miracles every day – every time she saw Jesus’ smile she was reminded how real they truly are…

 There you have it – Scarlett and Mary, two heroines of tales gone by guide me each day to a brand new tomorrow, where possibilities unfold and magic is surely lurking just beyond…

 Who are your heroes??? 

Think of the last time you said, “I want ____.”  Maybe it happened today when you ordered a latte or when you went shopping last or maybe when you were thinking about what was missing in your life – a relationship, love, money, sex, faith, hope, a job…I invite you to try this little game out, rephrase your want into asking. 

 For example if you are thinking right now, “I want love,” try rephrasing it to “I ask for love to be present in my life today.”  Feel the difference in the undercurrent of energy holding ‘want’ or ‘ask’. 

 ‘Want’ implies a lack and the question of deserving.  Fore when you say I want this, you create distance between you and that which you seek.  ‘Want’ speaks to unmet desires, an allusive hole within to be filled with this and that but above all passive.  ‘Want’ silently implies you are not worthy while also limiting your options to just one possibility. 

However ‘ask’ suggests you are worthy of receiving.  ‘Ask’ also opens the door to more.  By asking for love to be present in your life, you open the definition of love to include friends, family, strangers…The energy of ‘want’ fixates your desires in one or two small possibility.  In contrast by ‘asking’ you expand the possibilities beyond your own immediate desire – possibly the love you asked to be present today comes to you through a new friendship, that leads to a party, that leads to laughter and more new connections which leads to an extra sparkle around you and suddenly there is a love interest standing next to you…all because you opened to more…  

 Reminder: “Ask and you shall receive,” was the phrase, not “Want and you shall receive”…

For years, every time I looked at the Christian cross, I thought of death, betrayal and abandonment.  I had been raised in a home with a recovering Catholic, my mother.  Throughout her childhood she had the all-too-familiar experience of mean nuns and unsympathetic priests.  Needless to say Christian symbols and the bible were caste in the most negative of light…but I alone, I found myself drawn to Christian beliefs…

 I studied the bible first through the lens of English Literature in college, but I was not satisfied.  Soon I found myself drawn into a church community when I was in my mid-twenties and reeling from a broken heart.  There I discovered a loving God (quite different from my impressions as a child) yet still the bible and its many Christian symbols were meaningless to me…until several years ago. 

We joined a local Christian Church when our kids were toddlers and I began attending weekly Bible study classes with our minister.  It was around Easter and our minister asked me what I thought of the cross?

 I replied a bit defensively, “Well, not a lot.  I’m not sure what this die for my sins stuff is – what sins?  I like to think about Jesus’ teachings instead – specifically from the mountain top.”

 She smiled and said, “Well, I think you will discover there is more to it.”  We then began discussing the disciples with the entire group and I was appalled.  What?  Was she questioning my understanding of Jesus and God?  That I am not tied to that Catholic sin crap – I know she is also a recovering Catholic – this is leftover stuff…and I dismissed her words.

 A few weeks later my world fell apart.  Our son was hurt by a babysitter – shaken-baby syndrome.  We didn’t know at the time that was what had happened – he just started having seizures.  Up to 30 a day, both day and night.  It was horrendous.

 One day I noticed, I had become Mary, helplessly watching my child twist, writhe and fall down stairs over and over.  My son’s experience was beyond my control.  I couldn’t understand why this was happening.  I could only helplessly pray and think of Mary.  I had been so angry at her over the years – how could she stand by as her son was tortured and nailed to a cross?  Didn’t she love him?  Why didn’t she throw herself before the Romans to stop this madness?  How could she abandon him and how could the father, God, not ‘save’ him? 

 And then I realized Mary, she couldn’t change Jesus’ path.  Mary loved Jesus enough to stay with him as he followed his own soul’s calling.  The calling of Jesus’ soul was to be with us – God with us – always.  Thus he was bound to experience not only the joys of life but the pain too.  When you are betrayed, God knows this pain through Jesus and Judas.  When you are abandoned, God even knows this as Jesus cried out to God on the cross… 

 Suddenly I understood, the bible speaks of a Living God, who loves me enough to know my pain intimately, even on a cross.  Today I look at the cross and see love.  I know a God who is with me in my triumphs as well as my darkest hour, for didn’t you know?  Jesus died for our sins. 

 The true definition of sin in the bible is “that which separates you from God.”  I am no longer separated from God, for God is with me always – from sun shiny mountain tops to the dregs of despair, God is with me. 

 Our son recovered from the abuse suddenly – one day there were seizures and the next they were gone.  I am forever grateful for this highly traumatic experience because the sin, the separation, has vanished from my life.  I live every day knowing I am in relationship with a Living God and all things are possible.  I know miracles first hand and I am grateful to be so blessed. 

One of my favorite stories is of the man who fell into the ocean and prayed to be saved…Along came a log, but he didn’t grab it because he was sure God would rescue him…Soon a floating, discarded cooler passed by, but he let it pass as God was going to save him…Then a partially inflated tubing tire appeared, but he still let it pass because God was going to save him.  It was about this time, he drowned.

 At the pearly gates, Peter inquired, “Why didn’t you take the help that was offered?”

 Incredulously the man said, “What help?  I prayed and prayed, assured God would save me and here I am.  No boat, nothing.”

 Peter smiled and said, “Did you not see the log?  The cooler?  The tire?”

 Moral: help comes in many forms – be open, be flexible, be ready.  

About a week ago John Breaux died.  He was hit by a car as he performed his daily good works.  John rode his bike all over our town picking up trash, opening doors and other random acts of kindness.  He wanted to be like Jesus – helping and serving others whenever he saw a need. 

 Some said something was wrong with him, what normal person goes around picking up the messes of others?  Why is a stranger going out of his way day after day to help others with a kind word or to carry groceries?  What’s wrong with him?  John was different.

 He lived by the motto, “I am my brother’s keeper.”  Every day he practiced this belief – with an open smile & kind words as he picked up discarded coffee cups and stray candy wrappers.  He chose to make a difference – not because someone asked him to, but because he was compelled to serve from deep within.   

Remarkably thousands of people went to his funeral yesterday – not because he solved a financial crisis or invented something great, but because he was.  He was a great man, although I doubt he would think of himself that way.  He was grateful to be of service and through his many small, quiet acts of kindness his greatness shown through to all.  Rest in peace dearest John.