Through Stained Glass: Resilient Request

As I have mentioned before, creativity has been on my mind a lot this summer. In working with the students at The Center for Creativity & Community, I rekindled a bit of my own. I have returned to a couple of projects that I had previously put to the side because 'were these projects really worth my time?'

The answer: yes. Always yes, when it comes to expressing your creativity.

Why?

Well, creativity makes you feel good about yourself.

Being creative can lower stress and reduce anxiety.

In fact, psychologists found that when people are creative, they have an upward spiral of wellbeing and creativity. Further, the psychologist found that this increased wellbeing leads to more creative activity in the days to come! [For more about this, read this article.]

Basically, when you are creative--whether it be writing, crafting, painting, gardening, CREATING--you are likelier to be happy!

Think about this theologically. God responded to God's love by creating! And now, as God's beloved, we get to create with God the reign of Love here on earth.

At the core of who we are...we are creatives. I find this comforting and inspiring. Knowing that when we bring together our gifts/abilities/talents/energies, we can create a great mosaic complete with beautiful music and delicious snacks.

With all that said...

I am a part of a project next month that is focusing on Gaining Resilience In Teens--G.R.I.T.

Basically, it is a program for 7th-grade students to learn about the importance of self-care and drawing healthy boundaries.

Your pastor was fortunate enough to have been invited to speak at this said event. My topic will be this:

The Creative Quest: Becoming Who You Want to Be By Being Who You Are: “You can do anything you want.” These are words often said by adults long set in their ways doing what they (hopefully) love to do. But what happens when what we want to do is no longer an option? Or, if you’re like many people, what happens if you don’t yet know what you want to do? Our culture tells us we should be productive by becoming “something”...what if we consider what might happen if we choose to become “someone”? Our time together will reveal the one truth about all people: we are creative beings capable of inspiring beauty into the world. The key to happiness is never forgetting that the creative quest is an ever-evolving process that requires two things: *only and always* for you to be true to you! Speaker: Adam Quine

I am looking forward to this opportunity to talk to students about a few of the things I love!

I need your help, though. The event, which is on Friday, September 13, 2019, at The Christian Church in Lincoln, needs some volunteers. We need folks to be 'hall monitors,' 'hosts for the teachers while their students learn,' and 'other exciting but easy gigs.' You can see our needs and sign up where you can by following this link:

https://volunteersignup.org/XQEJB?fbclid=IwAR0TId6dhTcATxkPNMqNV4ztTAvw30q30UC3f1eSEMNuSelN6RHkNLBbZ1Y

Or by clicking here.


Remember, friends. We are all creatives. There is no such thing as a non-creative person.

So, I want to know. What are you creating these days?

I hope you will share it with me.

See you at the kirk house!

Through Stained Glass: August Angst

Oh, teach me in each moment
of every Now to know that
You are the Here in all my
wandering and the Yes in
all my wondering and the Love
in nothing less than everything.
~Meister Eckhart

I am not a fan of this time of the year. Honestly, this is the only time of the year when I wish for someplace else. Specifically, a cabin high up in the mountains where it is warm in the day time, and the evenings are cool enough for a fire. There’s just something about the unbearable heat, the relentless muzak of the cicadas, and the blinding light of the sky that makes me cranky. When will it end?

 If I'm honest, it is these very components of summer that ground me in the present moment. The dusty ground with the half-inch wide cracks have me pondering for what is my spirit thirsting? The sunflowers I waited in anticipation for to bloom, not stand half their height, weighed down by their beauty, and I ask, "What is weighing heavy on my heart?" My neighbor's oak tree stretches tall and wide, providing a cold shadow for Tecumseh to nap in, and I ask, "What is saving my life these days?"

It is easy to get dragged down by negativity. What the dog days of summer remind me is that not all is as it seems. Sometimes to see what good and beautiful gift sits before us, we need to consider the parts that get under our skin. All parts of life, every season, and all things under the sun make up this life. We need the hot days, and the cold days, we need the planting and the harvesting, and we need cabins in the mountains and chairs on the beach. Or as Richard Rohr says, “Diminishment and beauty, darkness and light, death and life are not opposites: they are held together in the paradox of the “hidden wholeness.” 

To see this 'hidden wholeness,' we might need to take a step back and view things from a different perspective. Rising above the negative thoughts might mean reframing a situation and asking a different or more profound question about the current season we are in. Yes, the relentless noise from air conditioners and the heaviness of the humidity are annoying. But what about this season is giving you life? 

The flowers? The sound of the marching band practicing on the street? The cool evenings we are gifted with once the heat gets out of the way? The thunderstorm happening right now that will give you more tomatoes? 

Wonderful, beautiful things are happening now. It's just a matter of perspective, right? Sometimes we need to check our brokenness in order to welcome God's wholeness--in which we exist!

So I ask you, friends, 

What can you see differently today? 

How are you encountering the Divine at this moment?

I can't wait to hear about what you see!

Through Stained Glass: Spider Prayer

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As I write this, a spider spins her web.

Around and around she goes, methodically, meticulously.

She weaves her way the way we walk a labyrinth, the way we pray.

The cicadas have silenced. The air conditioners still rumble.

Crickets. Tree frogs. And a low grumble from a Tecumseh dog.

In the distance, a train whistle blows. Above me bats flap their wings, eating the very bugs I want to escape.

Between the trees, a sliver of the moon plays peek-a-boo. The stars are doing their thing, too.

Did you know you can figure out the temperature by the frequency of cricket chirps?

It is warm out. A little sticky. Another train passes through town. I wonder out loud to Chloe where the passengers are going. Or what the conductor is hauling.

I wonder where we are going.

It has been a hard week for our country. And it is only Tuesday.

The stillness of the night is disrupted by a car speeding down Pulaski Street.

Crickets.

My prayer, amidst the finger-pointing and politicking, is that of the psalmist:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

    How long will you hide your face from me?

2 How long must I bear pain[a] in my soul,

    and have sorrow in my heart all day long?

How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Has God forgotten us? Has the One who created all things good turned Her back on us? Has God given up on us?

I keep praying:

3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!

    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,

4 and my enemy will say, “I have prevailed”;

    my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

Yes, God, consider our prayers, and answer us!

Crickets.

Yes, God, give light to our eyes, or we will sleep the sleep of death.

Tree frogs.

Yes, God, we are our enemies.

Silence.

I keep praying:

5 But I trusted in your steadfast love;

    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the Lord,

    because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Right, God. Everywhere in the Bible poets and prophets, shepherds and bakers, those who climb sycamore trees and those who live by the sword, always…

Always…

ALWAYS…

receive the promise of hope, the promise of a new creation, the promise of your steadfast love in this moment.

The spider is gone now. She has reclused to her chamber. Tomorrow her web will be gone, destroyed by a rambunctious puppy or the dew from the rising sun.

Still, she will return with her courage to begin again.

Moving from the outside in, and then from the inside out.

Her work, like ours, is always beginning in a moment like this one.