Find your passion

Who asks you to look

inside and see what stirs your

heart to act in love.

Thinking of love

Late last year, someone I had known in college, but hadn’t seen in more than twenty years, messaged me. We got together for coffee, and he updated on people I had known in college.

“I always thought of him as the one who got away,” I said when we got around to this one guy I had really liked but was too scared to do anything about.

I do think of him as the one who got away, but I could not believe I had actually said it out loud. Vulnerability is not my strong suit, so this verbal admission surprised me.

Later that same week, I heard a radio show about regret, and I recalled that conversation. I regret that I let my fears determine my future.

I started to think of other times when I had closed the door on the possibility of relationship. I remembered a man I had met at the end of my summer semester in Spain. He was an architect in Algericas, and I was about to leave the country. I said I would write when I got home, but I didn’t. To what end?

Similarly, the guy in upstate New York I had met on a weekend trip to Ithaca. He wrote me beautiful love letters and even drove the 200 miles to see me several times. But I was not going to move to New York, and he had no desire to move to Pennsylvania, so what was the point of pursuing a relationship?

Geographically undesirable, I thought both times.

Looking back, I can see that pragmatism was the coverup for my fear.

Last week, I watched the movie Frozen (not for the first time, but the first time in several years).

My mom died last June, and throughout the final months of her life, I had advised my sisters (and told myself) to let it go when people said things that were critical of the care we were giving my mom.

I must have said let it go hundreds of times in those last six months of my mom’s life.

After my mom died and people continued to express their opinions about what we should have or could have done to extend my mom’s life (even though she was 95 years old and had major health issues), I suggested to my sisters that we get Elsa t-shirts that said let it go.

I decided to watch Frozen again if for no other reason than to see Elsa letting go.

The line that caught my attention this time, though, was only an act of true love will thaw a frozen heart.

I wondered if my heart is frozen. Had all those times when I had said “no” to the possibility of love frozen my heart? Had shutting down on potential closed me to opportunity?

What can I learn from my past decisions and regrets?  How do I move past fear to freedom? How do I let go and become open to love?

Trust

Do not let your hearts be troubled. (John 14:1)

These words jumped off the page of my daily Scripture reading and prompted the question, what is troubling my heart?

Top of the list is my mother, who is ninety-five and on hospice. She has a variety of health issues, and yet she continues to live as though there is nothing wrong with her—she still cooks, cleans and does her laundry. She both inspires me (by her determination and perseverance) and worries me (because I know that any day something could happen—a fall, her heart could fail, etc.).

If you have ever kept vigil for someone who is nearing death, you will perhaps understand the stress of watching and waiting.

I remind myself that my mother is in God’s hands, and I believe that. Yet I know I am still holding onto something, as evidenced by the stress I feel.

The next line in John’s Gospel is Trust in God; trust also in me.

I pray to be able to let go and trust that God has my mother—and remember that God has me, too. Trust is the key, and when I am worrying, I am not trusting.

Worry is another word for fear, and Luke 8:50 reminds me that fear is useless; what is needed is trust. Another invitation to trust!

There are other items on the list of things that trouble my heart—my own health, my work, money, etc. Then there are more global issues that also trouble my heart—poverty, injustice and all the negative isms.

I know that trusting God and letting go of my fears is the way to peace in my heart, which seems to be the work of a lifetime.

What helps me to let go of worry is being present to the moment and trying to stay in the present moment. I remind myself that I cannot do anything about what might happen at some future time—and worrying about it won’t change anything.

I try to do the things that help me be present to the moment—creative activities like gardening, baking, knitting, etc.

What troubles your heart? What brings you peace?

Written on my heart

I recently signed up to be an advocacy speaker for our local domestic abuse shelter, sharing my story of being a survivor of sexual assault and the help I got after I was raped.

While pondering my own story, another story I hold came to mind—of a woman I befriended after she had committed a heinous crime in my community. I recently came across a bundle of her letters and realized I carry a part of her story that no one else knows.

This woman had a mental illness and heard voices inside her head. One day, she obeyed the voices that had been telling her to do something shocking, something that would make people take notice. Her actions made no rational sense, but the mental illness jumbled rational thought.

In the weeks and months following the crime, I prayed for the victims of her crime, their families and our community; and I prayed for her.

God placed this woman in my heart, and I kept seeing her as God’s daughter, a woman God still loved despite what she had done. I did not excuse what she had done, and I understood the anger of my community toward her because I, too, felt that anger. Yet God kept inviting me to look beyond what she had done to see the woman who was ill and in need of compassion. God wrote her name on my heart and asked me to see her with the eyes of my heart (Ephesians 1:18).

Eventually, I got to know this woman, and we became friends. Although I have not seen her for a long time, I still carry her in my heart.

She is not the only person God has placed on my heart, and over the years God has invited me to look at people and situations through God’s eyes, to see beyond the external facts to a deeper truth.

It can be a great challenge for me to look beyond what people do—the pain they inflict and the damage they cause—to see them as God sees them. It helps to think of my own actions that have hurt others and my desire for God to see beyond what I do, my hope that God still sees me as a beloved daughter.

On my own, I would get stuck in anger or fear; it is only possible for me to be compassionate because of the grace God gives me.

Reading Chapter 31 of Jeremiah, I wondered what God is writing in my heart now. Where is God inviting me to look beneath or beyond actions to see the need for understanding and compassion?

What is God writing on your heart?

Christmas love

Valentine’s Day is the time for hearts.

Pink and red hearts on shop windows and

cards declaring undying love,

cupid’s arrow aiming for hearts,

and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates.

But now, at Christmas,  

hearts have been capturing my attention,

in scripture, songs and poems.

Open my heart,

turn my heart,

take it to heart,

heart on fire,

humble hearts,

heartbroken.

Christmas love seeks hearts that have been shattered,

pitted and scarred,

and offers the heart of the innocent baby.

Repair my heart, I pray.

Make it unblemished.

Yet I know that each indelible mark

makes the heart

more attractive,

more desirable,

more likely to be a

hospitable host,

fertile ground,

waiting to be seeded.

Every time my heart is broken,

love has another chance to

plant itself,

take root and

grow.

Love is our destiny

Every day brings us holy moments,

chances to glimpse unconditional love and

unlimited forgiveness.

We only need look for them,

be open to them,

expect them.

If we are looking elsewhere,

if our hearts are closed or we are

expecting an insult or betrayal,

we might miss these gifts,

these moments of grace.

Look up with anticipation of seeing beauty,

and then bring that beauty in.

Let it touch your heart and soften any hard edges.

We were meant to love and be loved,

as much as fish were meant to swim and birds to fly.

Love is our destiny.

Let the river carry you

Leaves gently falling onto the river,

just a few these first days of autumn.

How would it be to fall into the river and

be carried away,

past farm and forest,

floating freely?

Is it too late to start again?

To step into the river and let it carry me away?

To let go of all that I have been clutching,

all the history that fills my heart,

taking up all the space and

leaving no room for what might come.

Be the leaf.

Let go and fall into the adventure

that awaits just around the bend of the river.

Where love lives

A whisper awakens me each morning,

“be present to this day, to the gift of it.”

Gently, I unfold the blanket that covers my heart,

revealing that place where love lives.

Open your heart

In the quiet, alone with my thoughts, reflecting.

I remember the many times God reached out to me.

Trying, again and again, to find a way in.

Forgive, let go, live, trust.

Images, words, memories.

A new year, another chance.

Open the door to your heart and let love in.

December day

Ice piles up on the rocks at the water’s edge.

Frozen sculptures shaped by waves and wind.

Reaching toward heaven like uplifted hands.

Grotesquely beautiful.

When my heart is battered by life’s winds and freezes up,

I pray to heaven that it be thawed

so I can love again.