From Consider Jesus. Elizabeth Johnson
P 57 “…it is obvious that Jesus had a special and original experience of God as intimate, close, and tremendously compassionate over human suffering and sin. Out of that experience Jesus surfaced a name for God, namely ABBA. It is the Aramaic word that a small child would use to address his or her father before being able to talk. Translates into English as ‘papa’ or ‘dada’.”
There have been a few times I have truly felt that kind of closeness to God. Inspired by music. The first cry of a baby. The sunrise/set. The ocean either angry or calm. Such as these.
i know I am lucky to have these experiences but perhaps because I look for them. Always on the look, alert, searching and happily satisfied by the simple beauties that are present. When we’d go on hikes and I’d get winded I’d slow the group down and take an ah-ha moment. Looking for something interesting. It was there.
the Psalmists call out to God. You can too even if you don’t measure yourself as super religious. God will respond.
Bobbie Giltz McGarey
My puppy Annie is quite fond of sitting on the couch in the sun. She will curl up on the back of the couch pillows or in her circle-the-wagons position.
Where do you find a place of comfort? Is there someplace where you feel very safe. It can be a physically accessible place or a place in your memory where you knew things were ok. For me I can make a mental walk down a path at the camp I attended as a child, Camp Akita in the Hocking Hills south of Columbus. First Community church owns and operates the camp. Vesper Hill is the place where worship would take place, vespers. As your walk away from the main lodge there was a narrow path. Along the way there was a sign that I think says Silence, it seems that you were told not to talk after that. The path opens, up and there is a view in the woods across the valley. The split log benches of the time I was there welcomed you to come and sit and be quiet. The cross in the front was rustic, tree branches roped together, rough, some of the bark removed.
I remember singing hymns, listening to scripture, a brief meditation, prayer, quiet, and benediction. It would go from dusk to dark and you hoped you remembered your flashlight to get back to your cabin. As a child where the giggling and began again before we finally settled for the night. Happy from the day and excited for tomorrow.
Find a place to settle yourself. Breathe. Trust.
bobbie giltz mcgarey
Elijah Cummings would tell people
So we have an assignment don’t we? We are called, set apart, everyday to name our pain and through it we will find our passion, and our purpose.
Finding our pain, our deep most true pain, can be a difficult task. Too easy it is to name our pain o a physical level. But that is not the pain that needs a name, The pain that needs a name is etched in our hearts. It can be transformed into power. A spiritual director or mentor can help you name this.
But once we name the pain, we are challenged to turn it into our passion. That which empowers our being. That which holds us up. That which ignited the fire in our heart. That which continues to ignite that fire.
But the challenge the gift of this saying doesn’t end rather it affords a beginning.
It is to become our purpose. Finding that may be a little more difficult. But with prayer, guiding, listening to our dreams, speaking with a spiritual friend, we can come to see what it is God has for us to do.
Bobbie Giltz Mcgarey
@2019 Raton, NM
So last weekend we had our Presbytery meeting at Ghost Ranch. Each season is beautiful there. As you can see from the yellow hues it’s Fall2019.
Sometimes we need a small reminder of the sacredness of the ordinary. A small 1.5 year old grandson who does a happy dance with arms outstretched and big grin on his face only pausing long enough to clap.
Or his older sister in her car seat with small toy figures in her hands making up a story about how they will get along with each other even when they disagree.
These small beautiful glimpses of the real Kin-dom are around us when we open our hearts to see.
I thank God for eyes to see and a heart to feel and joy enough to share.
God abides Bobbie
When my mother died I took a few weeks away from being the pastor of the church and John, my husband and co-pastor, was there for the People. I went back to work and about a month after she died. A lady came up and in all seriousness said, “Well, it’s been a month since your Mom died, I guess you are about over it by now.“. It was not so much a question as a declaration. Times up, move on.
I remember trying to formulate a response. I had none. I remember looking at her, I can only hope with marked incredulity, “WHAT? Over? No, not over.” Was I expected to have some magical powers as clergy to just bounce back from the loss? Was my ‘overness’ supposed to prove my faithfulness? I don’t know. What I do know is that 20 years later I still feel the sting of those words.
Since then in moving and breakage I’ve lost some of the treasures that link me with her, a rocker, a brass flower pot, a set of Desert Rose dishes, and a clear red vase.
Moved from my ‘having’ to ‘have lost’ along with her.
But I am pretty sure that when I miss her most is when I want to share joyful moments in my life. My children, their spouses, my grandchildren all bring me joy. I want to tell her about Marshall, and Nolan, and Gregory. I want to tell her about Maggie Mae and IanMaurice. Look at these photos!
But it is now left to me to hold those memories. In that I find joy.
So then there is this one article this makes a lot of sense and deeply touches me.