Monday, September 22, 2014

Have I Ever Told You How I Met God?

Have I ever told you how I met God?

I was just four or five years old.  I had a decent sense of the universe thanks to a childrens record my parents had gotten for us.  I remember there was a picture on the album jacket of the planets around the sun.  The recording explained the planets in orbit, the sun, our galaxy and the universe in terms a child could understand.  I knew that I was but an infinitesimal part of matter in this reality.

I also had a sense of God and His Love from my Mom, from our church and from my childrens prayer book "Pearls of Prayer." Though I couldn't read yet, the illustrations provided me the ample confirmation that my Mom wasn't just making this stuff up!

So, one fine day I was lying on the ground in our yard watching an ant make its long, long way through the grass.  I marvelled at how huge a challenge it must be to walk through this jungle of green.  I watched as it journeyed many steps in what would take me only one or two to accomplish. Then I thought of my place in this vast scheme.   After a bit, I rolled over on my back, feeling the ground under me, seeing the trees, sky and clouds above me, just thinking how tiny the ant was compared to me, and how much tinier I was than the universe.  I started to think, "Why?  Why the grass? Why the ant?  Why the clouds and the sky and the trees and the planets?  Why me?  Why?..."  Then, as clear as if I could hear the thought aloud - another voice, silent and gentle came into my head and my heart, with complete sincerity and assurance of a true answer saying, "Because I love you."  And I felt the Presence of God for the first time.  All knowing and all love.  And I have been His from that moment.

Where does one go from there?  I would have been happy to live in a treehouse in the woods by myself (with God, of course) the rest of my days.  Alas, I was not allowed out after dark.  Then, there are customs and I'm sure laws discouraging four year old mystics in Maryland going it alone.  And so, I carried on, breathing in and out, getting up each day, learning, moving (we moved a lot), loving, laughing, crying, living among the rest of Gods world.  Always looking to share this assurance of Gods love for each of us and all of creation.  By being nice, caring, comforting, laughing and crying when life calls for it; sharing every good thing.

I've gathered so many experiences, so many loves along the way.  There have been friendships, always to be treasured, some more than just friendships, and a betrayal or two.  God wants us to struggle, just so we are sure that this love of His is real and will see us through.  A good friend once told me that struggle is a sign of an authentic life.  My life has been that!

What have I learned?  All we have is now, the only place we have is here.  I have tried to love freely as best I can, not to have expectations.  Still, I find myself always longing for more.  More love?  Commitment?  I'm not completely sure.  Whatever the question, the answer is love.  After having spent now more than half an average lifespan as my special bit of matter in the universe, I believe that voice and presence more than ever.  I embrace life, the whimsy and the woe, ever grateful for every good thing as a precious gift to be accepted, then shared, wishing that we each can know this truth of God.  As an old French love poem goes, "Je vis et je l'espère."  I live and I hope.

"Because I love you..."

Friday, July 11, 2014

Mater Invictus

       
                                                       Mater Invictus


                                           Life two days gone is gone forever,
                                             But tales from once upon a time
                                           Still cherished and shared.
 
                                           Laundry, pill bottles and mail threaten
                                             To overtake the world; dust thickens
                                           And crocheting begs attention.
           
                                           The weary old woman she didn't see
                                             Sneaking up on her now smiles
                                           Comfortably in the mirror.  She is still herself.
 
                                           Quoting Shakespeare, loving God, laughing,
                                              At new jokes and jokes made new
                                           Thanks to fading memory.
           
                                           And just now, she called to mind this poem       
                                              By William Ernest Henely, "Invictus,"            
                                           Memorized in her youth, now freshly full  
                                              Of meaning in a whole new light.

                                                        Rock on Mama-san!

                                                                                                 M. Eileen Lawter July 2014




         
                                                                   Invictus

                                                  OUT of the night that covers me,
                                                    Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
                                                  I thank whatever gods may be
                                                    For my unconquerable soul.

                                                  In the fell clutch of circumstance      
                                                    I have not winced nor cried aloud.
                                                  Under the bludgeonings of chance
                                                   My head is bloody, but unbowed.

                                                  Beyond this place of wrath and tears
                                                    Looms but the Horror of the shade,
                                                  And yet the menace of the years
                                                    Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

                                                  It matters not how strait the gate,
                                                    How charged with punishments the scroll,
                                                  I am the master of my fate:
                                                    I am the captain of my soul.


                                           William Ernest Henley 1849–1903