Category Archives: contemplative mothering

Yesterday

Yesterday.

Yesterday Junie and I went on a date. We both looked forward to it all day long, I love how I can feel pressure to make it fun and make a really cool memory with her (or any of them on these dates), but then when we get out on our own, it’s all about her and me and it’s wonderful just because all of my attention is on her. I have nothing else to do but be with her. Her essence completely fills the June mold under these circumstances. She is herself through and through with no influence from the others causing her any kind of tension, she is at peace and she shines. I love that, and I just love her so much!

First stop Toys ‘R’Us for the special toy she has been wanting for a long time. She earned it. I told her the Bible store was next door and she agreed to go look when I told her they have tiny pink Bibles, hee! It was big chain Christian store and just being in there did something to me. I used to work at Joy’s Christian Bookstore in San Juan Capistrano, I was in charge of the greeting cards. It was fun when it didn’t cause a wave of fatigue to wash over me, just looking in “my” section. I even used to get that weird thing where words lose their meaning when you’ve looked at them too long. I didn’t recognize “father,” fat-her?  Or “mother,” moth-er.  It made me feel funny.

Without the occurrences of the fatigue and semantic satiation, being back in that element was really, really comfortable, peaceful and pleasant. I hadn’t expected it to be since my spirituality now runs in stark contrast to so much of the material for sale there. But there were the Bibles. Aaaahhhh, I love Bibles. I used to get to engrave them. One time I messed up on one and it was the last one we had of its kind, the customer was going to have to wait for us to order, receive process and engrave a brand new one. Joy didn’t even get mad at me or the situation! I never messed up again. I took pride in getting it exact. You can’t leave the stamper down too long or the gold will spread and the letters won’t be clear. In tattooing they call it “blown out” when the needle is put in too far and/or stay in the same place for too long and the lines get thick and blurred.

I wanted a new Bible last night, but didn’t buy one. We did get the tiny pink New Testament for June and later in the car I filled in the presentation page. “Presented to: June Elise Stankovits; On: October 25th, 2011 (I almost forgot the 2 in 25th, but I squeezed it in); By: your loving mother; On our wonderful date! I heart u so much!!

We walked on over to Best Buy after that and got Sid and Jonny their video game and movie, then it was back to the car to open Junie’s Minnie Cash Register, that very special toy. As we sat in the car checking it out, she was so happy and content to be just there -she could have pickedanywhere to go- I became tense with the need to be productive. Sid asked us to bring home ice cream and dinner. I hadn’t been feeling great, so I wanted a comforting, light dinner and as I tried to decide on what to eat, exhaustion settled into my entire brain, slowing it down and locking the drawers to some of my vocabulary files. June asked me to play. I didn’t want to play, I wanted to get just the right food and get home. I became emotional and knew I needed to let go and play. We took things out of my purse, June rang them up with the scanner thing on her new toy and I paid for them with Minnie money and a Minnie credit card.

 

I wanted to cry and I didn’t know why. I looked out the window, toward the sunset, and while I couldn’t see the sun at all, somehow it was reflecting brightly off of some palm fronds high on a tree. At first it reminded me of golden tinsel, as if someone had dropped bunches of it into the fronds and there it hung, flickering and shining in the breeze. I pointed it out to June. It overwhelmed me with its beauty and then I perceived the effect more like the fronds had been lit with fire and the tips of them were smoldering. It was amazing. All my cares evaporated. I wasn’t going through anything very grave, but I was going through something and then suddenly I wasn’t and then I cried for the peace and wonder.  June didn’t want me to cry, she even cried with me, so I stopped. I had my camera and so I did my best with my super zoom to capture the smoldering fronds. Haaaaaahh (that’s supposed to be a peaceful exhalation).

 

We played some more. Rung up more of the contents of my purse, hand sanitizer, my wallet, a teething toy, a Transformer, a little bottle of lotion and my cell phone.

The fronds burned into my soul. When June was ready, we buckled in and headed out.  I made it peacefully through Sprout’s getting salad stuff and ice cream and stuff, June had a nice time because she was in the stroller, she loves to ride in it and usually Indy is the passenger. It was all normal, but I felt different, though still exhausted and hungry, I was okay. At home I had that feeling of my cup running over just looking around at my children, at Sid. It’s that feeling of such utter contentment that you think maybe your going to die soon cause you must be getting closer to the Ultimate Peace.  Haaaaaahhhh. I was patient in that state, and loving, and fun and happy, so happy. What keeps me from being in this state all of the time? Unconscious living? Forgetting to direct my awareness and attention to God? Overfocusing on what isn’t done yet? I think so. Lord let those palm fronds stay alight in my heart reminding me to look to you. Let me always be the woman, mother, wife and Jennifer, that I was last night. She was so beautiful.

Sid snapped those and I’m so glad he did!  : )

Prayer for Japan


Every week we have some friends come over and play. Us moms organize some type of craft or activity to do while we’re together and this last week we decided to make a strand of Tibetan prayer flags in prayer for the people suffering in Japan. I had a Tibetan Prayer Flag Pack, which I bought from Montessori Resource a couple of years ago and hadn’t used. It came with two strands of prayer flags, one printed with a traditional Tibetan design featuring a horse, which is said to carry the prayers on the wind (pictured above), and one strand of blank flags for us to add our own prayers to. It came with pens, too. I read the little book it came with so that I could briefly (accommodating hyper-friends-are-here! attention spans) explain what the flags were all about.
This was our setup:

It’s so cool that what we choose to pray for, using this medium, can be expressed in different ways. It has expanded my view of prayer, because I don’t ever draw my prayers. (Maybe you can see why, haha! This one’s mine.)

Even if it doesn’t have an appealing aesthetic quality, it’s nice to be relieved of the task of finding the words to match my heart’s cry. The other way that this activity expanded my prayer life, is that the colors of the flags catch my eye often throughout the day – since I can see them through windows from inside the house, as well as when I’m outside – and when they do I can’t help but pay attention to God and my heart connects to Him, and to those suffering in Japan.

Here are the kids working on expressing their prayers.


And here are those precious prayers, expressed. We encouraged them to include any prayers on their hearts.


Us moms sat down to the table after the kids had gone off to their playing, and we filled in the blanks with scripture and prayers of our own.

I’d like to suggest, if you feel led to do this in your own home, that you could easily make this project from fabric scraps, staples and ribbon or string. And any permanent markers will work well on the fabric squares. Google image has plenty of beautiful photos of the flags to inspire you. There was one picture that I printed out to show the kids, in which there was just a multitude of flags, and I was happy to share with the kids that the people of Tibet often pray for peace for every inhabitant of the earth, so one of the flags in the picture might have represented a prayer for us!


By the time we got around to hanging our flags, our friends were gone.

I hope that this will become a tradition in our home (it’s up to me and I won’t make any promises) that when tragedy strikes in the world, in our community, in our family, or in our home, that we will assemble a strand of flags in honor of those affected by such a tragedy. That we will make it a habit of connecting to the suffering of others.

And so now our prayers hang outside, carried by the wind and reminding us to keep praying. Tibetans let their prayer flags go to tatters outside, reminding us of the impermanence of things. When they are all worn out they are said to have done their job.

Irvine Park

We spent a day exploring Irvine Park after all that crazy rain.


We started off on the swings.

This is us leaving the civilized part of the park, heading out into the wilderness.


June. The others were trying to coax a lizard out of the log.

Jonny. So rad to see the creek that full, and flowing.

That’s Aveline’s wilderness shoe holder.

Crossing the dam.

This was such a cool area, there were animal tracks all over the sand and so far no human tracks . . . until we put down ours.

Me and Indy.

Tracks!

We followed them, irresponsibly hoping to quietly come upon a slumbering mountain lion.

This tree reminded me of lungs.

And this tree reminded me of Sid ; )

Up

Down

That little cutie-pie is getting her own post, so stay tuned.

I can still feel that crisply cold water and I wish I could bring a pool of it everywhere I go. Just slip the shoes off, roll the pants up and step in whenever I wish for that feeling it imparts.

Kindred folks there. If it weren’t for my greater desire to tend to the needs of my clan, I would love to spend the day just like that. Maybe with some knitting and my Kindle.

Stand Still

I feel really vulnerable sharing this but… The other day I had a moment where each of my 4 children were doing something to make my head spin, all at the same time. I was sitting with Jonny at the school table, he was taking a math test and I was guiding him with the instructions, this was very challenging requiring all of the patience and concentration I could muster. Indy was fussing in my arms and in the next room the girls got into a quibble. June screamed like crazy and there was no sign of the inevitable calm that always takes a little too long to arrive. I snapped. I walked over to the girls not knowing what I was going to do, afraid of the intensity of my frustration. I don’t spank my kids (and even if I did, I would not have in these angry moments), but I’ve been known to throw objects here and there. I hate how much I yell, and I suppose I couldn’t think of anything to say in the moment, so I screamed like crazy. A good, long, scary scream. I didn’t stop until my lungs were empty. I shocked the girls out of their quibbling and went back to Jonny fully grounded and ready to move on. I had scared Indy and he cried a bit, but it seemed a little maybe worth it for how calm I felt afterward, okay not really. I got back all of my gentleness and patience after pushing all of the anger and frustration out of my mouth with that scream.

I loved how quickly I got calm, but immediately knew I didn’t want to ever scream like that again, unless it was maybe into a pillow, or unless someone was murdering me, but still I don’t really want to scream like that again. So, I thought, “What should I do instead that might offer me as quick of relief without the traumatizing-to-my-children factor? I asked the kids as well . . . you never know when they’re gonna give you that life-changing, kid-wisdom advice they’re so full of and the stars align and you change. Well, we didn’t come up with anything. (I’ve since read about snake-breathing, the current issue of Mothering Magazine has a good article about feelings.)

And then I got the Shalem newsletter in my e-mail box. I read an article that linked me to the Shalem website, which is such a great resource for contemplative information, motivation, and inspiration. After the article I read on the website I scrolled down to the next article which happened to be written by my favorite non-fiction author ever, Gerald May. He did a word study on the beatitudes and oh my, look what he uncovered:

“‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’

“Blessed are those who pray with and for gentleness, who turn to God with their anger, who stand still in the midst of their own turbulent feelings, for they will be empowered; the energy of their feelings will join with God’s love and give them freedom in all of life.”

from Shalem Newsletter Volume 28, No. 2-Summer, 2004

What do you think? I thank God for that. The extra insight into the words gives it such dimension, offering applicable guidance as it grants the blessing. I look forward for a chance to exercise this wisdom, even if I don’t look forward to reaching my boiling point. Just thought I’d pass this along since I found such value in it : )

I know that most people don’t like a blog post with words only, so here’re a few photos from last week when we did school fireside. I share these in particular to remind myself (and inform you, j.i.c.) that most days I don’t have to deal with such turbulent feelings. So good.

We were listening to a CD with skip counting songs on it. The kids love the music so they broke out into The Skip Count Scamper!



Jonny gettin’ the 7s down.



It blows me away that Indy can sleep in the midst of the fun and noise!

2 book recommendations, an experience and a consecration

Does anyone out there remember when I started the “Contemplative Mothering” series of posts? It had to have been a couple of years ago now. Didn’t think so, moving on. This theme has been on my mind a lot lately, so it’s time for a revisit.

I want to share two books with you, the first one is Parenting: A Sacred Path by Patience Leiden Robbins. It has six sections, each beginning with a theme, followed by Monday – Friday reflections and prayers surrounding that theme. She encourages the use of meditation during your quiet time and includes two sample meditations in the back of the book. I’m so excited about this book and I hope you’ll check it out. You can order it from Shalem Institute shalem.org or Center for Children and Theology cctheo.org (check out the other wonderful things offered on both those sites, if you have time). One thing I especially love about this book is how the parent is encouraged to tap into their enormous love for their child and operate from that love in their everyday dealings with that child. Awesome!

The second book is called Finding God at Home by Ernest Boyer, Jr. I have not read this book, but I am in the process of acquiring a copy. Robbins recommends this book and quotes it frequently in her book (above). Here’s an excerpt.

God is always present to us. The greatest thing we can do in life is to teach ourselves to be always present to God. The small, routine tasks that fill every day spent in the care of others may seem to be a barrier to this, but they need not. They may in fact be turned into one of the finest of spiritual disciplines, a special sacrament of the routine through which what to others appears the most ordinary and mundane of tasks is revealed to be a sacred act, an act of prayer. Prayer is nothing more or less than being present to God. And so this is a spirituality that makes all of life into prayer, a prayer of love, a prayer of help for others, a prayer of courage.

And this brings me to the experience I mentioned in the title of this post. Today I was to prepare a dish for the potluck brunch that we will participate in tomorrow following our Easter meeting at Dad’s new Bible study. I chose to make Telluride Pasta Salad from Peggy O’Mara of Mothering Magazine. It is so good! So today as I cooked pasta, steamed potatoes, toasted pine nuts, sliced herbs and vegetables and measured capers, olives and artichoke hearts, I prayed. I took it easy, enjoyed each step and set my mind on the community of people that may or may not indulge in my yummy side dish. And I thought about God and Jesus, full of gratitude in the wake of the few but meaningful Easter traditions my family and I shared this week. Last night we all watched The Passion. It impacted every one of us. Jonny cried! Sid cried, and I cried nearly constantly. June told me this morning when she woke up, “Jesus saved us, Jesus saved Jonny and Aveline and Daddy and Mama and June. I love Him.” Aveline had a hard time watching, I encouraged her to look away, she ended up falling asleep, but this morning she wanted to watch it again. I think we’ll move on to those clay-mation Jesus DVDs for everyday viewing!

I was also very inspired. Christ’s suffering made me feel the beauty in my work, even if I’m not washed, and still in the clothes I slept in. What I have done, what I do daily, and all that is in my future was, is and is going to be an act of love to those around me. Not that I have always acted in love, or always will, but . . . Oh, I don’t know, it’s just how I feel, like I want to consecrate everything, all of me, past, present and especially future to love, for Christ’s sake. It’s what I want from myself and I think it’s what Jesus would do through me if I could really turn myself completely over to Him. It feels like that’s the only way to live, to spend our earth time.

Blessings on your Easter.

Chuck Smith, Jr.’s Reflexions

Here is one of my dad’s weekly Reflexions.  My spirit is greatly ministered to each week as I make the time to sit and breathe and read them, actually not only that.  I have received all types of “spiritual treasures” after following a “map” found in a Reflexion.  Simply and mainly, I have been led to and by and through more love.   If you would like to have a much prettier PDF version of these delivered to your e-mail inbox every Monday (sometimes Tuesday, almost never later than that ; ) ), then simply send a blank e-mail to express-image@cox.net.  Enjoy!

 

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chuck smith, jr.’s

reflexions

Number 93 October 14, 2008

The Better to See You With

Give people an opportunity and they will surprise you. Sometimes you have to probe their thoughts or

prod them to open up. They need to know it is safe to share and no matter what they say, they will be loved

and accepted. If you succeed in getting beneath the surface, you’ll find a treasure worth uncovering.

A plan in the heart of a man is like deep water,

But a man of understanding draws it out.

(Proverbs 20:5)

“Plan” (Hebrew, etsah) is advice or counsel, but when it is “in the heart” the meaning shifts slightly. For

example, the same word in Psalm 13:2 means something like introspection or self-examination:

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,

Having sorrow in my heart all the day?

The poet’s unhappiness drove him inward, to wrestle with his thoughts and emotions, trying to figure things

out, perhaps trying to understand himself. The proverb above suggests that a wise and caring person can help.

The Beauty of Others

A Christian leader asked me to speak to a group of his friends. “We aren’t interested in having you teach

us anything profound,” he explained, “We want you to tell us about the hard times and your struggles.” Well,

that seemed easy enough. I’ve hardly ever lived two steps away from my struggles.

I stood before sixty strangers and told them how I had suffered with depression through more than thirty

years of ministry. I tried to give them an idea of what that had done to me. I suggested the possibility that

God’s intent was not to beat my heart to a pulp, but to tenderize it for the sake of others.

Afterwards, a woman stood back and off to one side while others spoke with me. When there was no one

else waiting, she stood in front of me, slightly trembling. The tears rolled over the edge of her lower eyelids

and when her lips moved, her voice was a whisper, “Thank you.” She paused, looked down, took a couple of

deep breaths and said, “I have always thought that I wasn’t a very good Christian. I could not do what other

believers told me I should be doing. They told me that no matter my circumstances, I should rejoice in the

Lord. They told me to trust God and be more hopeful. They told me Christians aren’t supposed to be down.”

The story she told me was a familiar one. Then she said, “But tonight I realized I’m okay. I am not a bad

person. God loves me, he is near me. There is nothing wrong with my faith in God, I’m just broken.”

That is what I mean by being surprised by people. Who would have thought that a revelation of God’s

love would lead to an admission of sadness and brokenness, fear and rejection that yielded a moment of such

beauty? Her wet cheeks drew up into a hopeful smile as she thanked me again and then turned and walked

away.

Through His Eyes

During a conversation two weeks ago, I realized that some believers don’t understand what it meant for

Jesus to enter our world and become one of us. The person I spoke with assumed that since Jesus was “God in

the flesh,” he knew everything that was going to happen in his life before it happened. But if that were true,

then Jesus wasn’t really one of us, because part of being human is not knowing what lies ahead.

First century Christians sang a hymn about Jesus’ descent into human likeness that Paul quoted in

Philippians chapter 2. They sang of Jesus existing “in the form of God,” but instead of clinging to equality with

God, he “emptied himself.” Jesus laid aside his divine prerogatives. That is why he got hungry, sleepy, worn

out, and frustrated with the slowness of his disciples and the opposition of his critics. That is also why the

Romans were able to crucify him.

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Although Jesus was the Word that became flesh and lived among us—he always carried within himself

both God’s nature and human nature—, he limited himself in order to fully embrace human experience.

“Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same . . . . He

had to be made like His brethren in all things . . . For since He Himself was tempted in that which He has

suffered, He is able to come to the aid of those who are tempted” (He. 2:14-18).

Jesus Christ, flesh of our flesh. His brain and Central Nervous System was identical to ours. Like us, Jesus

“learned obedience from the things which He suffered” (He. 5:8). He became a human to see the world

through our eyes. That is “part one” of a two-part equation. He also came to give us the gift of seeing

through his eyes.

If you find yourself in a heated argument, a frustrating conversation, or a boring encounter with another

person, something phenomenal will happen if you allow God to let you see that person through his eyes. You

do not see an annoying, opinionated, simple-minded bore. Rather, you find before you a child trying to find

justice on a playground stalked by a relentless bully. You see a lost son who has ventured into the far country,

but has not yet turned toward home because he still has a few coins in his pocket. You see a frightened young

woman who worries that her life will be over before she experiences that one true romance. You will also

find a rock of stability, a son of thunder, an exquisite diamond, a poem or song, all built around God’s image.

I am sure that you can easily imagine looking at other people through the eyes of Jesus, and seeing them in

a new way—a work of art, beautiful in their imperfection. But I’ll bet that you find it much more difficult to

see yourself through the eyes of Jesus. Can you look in the mirror and through his eyes see the majesty of the

image of God inside yourself? Can you see a person who is only “a little lower than God,” beautiful, wise,

and glorious? (Ps. 8:5). Can you see the child that suffers, but is afraid to ask for healing? Can you see the saint

devoted to God’s truth? Can you see the object of God’s love and desire?

Outsiders

One of the curiosities of Jesus’ ministry occurs when strangers instantly get what he is about, while

religious scholars are in the dark and his own disciples miss the point. Go through Matthew’s gospel sometime

and notice how often Jesus described his disciples as men “of little faith.” You may be surprised. But then a

Gentile woman comes to him for help. At first, he doesn’t even want to bother with her—at least that’s how

he acts. But finally she gets to him and he says, “O woman, your faith is great” (Mt. 15:28). But in the next

chapter, the disciples are once again “men of little faith” (Mt. 16:8). They scratch their heads, not getting Jesus

while the foreigner goes home with her prayer answered.

Another example: A Roman officer whose slave was dying. Jesus agreed to come to the officer’s home and

heal the slave. But the officer declined Jesus’ offer, saying that he wasn’t worthy to have Jesus enter his house.

Instead, he informed Jesus that he understood authority and the chain of command. All he had to do was

bark an order and immediately his word would be obeyed. So if Jesus would “just say the word,” his servant

would be healed (Mt. 8:5-9).

Matthew says that “when Jesus heard this, He marveled . . .” How did Matthew know Jesus’ interior

reaction? Wouldn’t the Lord’s admiration for the officer be personal and private? I think that the people

standing nearby must have read Jesus’ response in his facial expression and body language.

Jesus told those following him, “Truly I say to you, I have not found such great faith with anyone in

Israel.” Were the disciples wounded by this remark? Or did they see it as a challenge? Regardless, within just a

few verses, the disciples have reverted to their “little faith” (Mt. 8: 10 & 26).

Jesus and You

Can you relax your body for a moment, take a deep breath, and allow your spirit to become sensitive to

the nearness of Jesus? Inhale: “Here.” Exhale: “Now.”

He looks at you, peering deep inside, searching, observing, caring. He finds your spirit, perhaps coming

forth to greet him or maybe crouched in a corner hiding. He breathes his own Spirit into your spirit and tells

you to receive him (Jn. 20:22).

What is the expression on his face? What is his body language? What do they tell you?

That you are loved, you are safe, you are the image of his Father in heaven, and he finds you beautiful.

longing

 

It’s 7:15 AM and I’ve just returned from a long walk.  It is rare that I should awaken early enough and with enough gusto to take such a jaunt, but oh how glad I am that this was such a morning. 

 

I’ve been experiencing a deep longing for God.  A longing that brings me to tears when I have enough quiet to sit with it, or, as in the case of this morning, walk with it.

 

This longing is heartbreakingly blissful, which makes sense in light of paradoxical logic, which I was reading about yesterday.  Paradoxical logic posits that we can only understand Ultimate Reality through contradiction.

 

Well, I thought that I’d explain how I happened upon this longing, of course my grandiose hope is that you, too can attain this longing, but I know that our Creator, the nameless one, made us each so unique that you might happen upon something different than this, that brings you closer to a recognition of God around you in an even more personal way for you.  But I’ll go ahead with my intentions anyway.

 

I think it’s pretty basic, but we’ll see how it turns out.  

 

My longing for God began with my longing for other things.  Things that my human self has a passion for.  For instance, I LOVE brand new, newborn babies, they evoke a sense of heaven in me, I am utterly carried away to a different state of being when I approach a newborn.  The more intimate I can be with that newborn, the more carried away I am.  My experience with newborns has run the gamut, from a brief glimpse of another mother’s child in a stroller in the mall (get that baby ON you woman!), to breastfeeding the three newborn babies of my womb, just following the harrowingly exhilarating adventures of their homebirths.  I was practically manic for the latter.

 

Then there’s this house, it’s near where I live now.  It was built on the top of a hill here in the unincorporated area of Santa Ana in 1929.  It looks like a mission, and I’m not at all equipped vocabularily, to describe the edifice in architectural terms (seeing as how I make up my own words and all!), but it reminds me of a villa, it has a terra cotta tile roof and . . . Oh I just can’t bear to butcher it like this.  It’s just AMAZING!  I mean, you approach the place and you can feel it’s breath, it’s alive and it tells you fantastical stories beyond what itself has experienced.  As I passed it today I imagined it, on a secluded beach with clean powdery sand leading to warm, clear waters with a small break and THAT is my heaven.  Of course I’d be giving birth there regularly to my newborn, nursing babies!

 

Then there’s bees.  For some reason bees have struck me lately as something so amazing, actually insects in general.  I’ve been longing for a deeper understanding of insects and how their communities operate (if you feel the same, I recommend the DVD series Insectia with Georges Brossard, it is available at the Orange Public Library).  Insects are so far ahead of mankind in many ways, they are complexly miraculous in their capabilities and activities.

 

Okay, okay, you get it.  Well, my longings, my human longings, when I sit with them and I feel them and maybe examine them a little (though I try my darnedest NOT to intellectualize them), they ARE my longing for God.  This notion was suggested to me in the book The Awakened Heart by Gerald May, MD (who should be sainted in my opinion).  We are human beings, created in the image of God, everything human is of God, and yes, we are capable of sin and evil, but not by longing.  When I consecrate my longings, in prayer, I feel God.  I long for God, and life becomes so sparkling, warm, shining and loving, including all people and the longing deepens.  The more I recognize the longing the more I long.

 

The things that God created, human women with our wombs, breasts and babies, bees with their “find-the-food” dances, even the creations of man, like that awesome house, they all reflect God in some way.  And as I sit here, being a human, longing for the things that speak to my heart, I am longing for God and he’s here, ministering to me in words I cannot comprehend and in feelings I cannot describe.  I want to get closer to God, but that notion makes me feel like I have to DO something to get there, or LEARN something to get there, but that is not the state of things, of He and I.  He’s here, always, and surrounding me in the things I love and long for, always.  The more I long for Him, the more I feel Him and then I long even more.

 

What do you long for?  What is the height of inspiration for you?  What are the things that happen that make your heart either squeeze tight in your chest, or feel like it’s going to swell to the size of Texas?  What causes you to need to catch your breath?  Is it beauty surrounding you in your own creative expression?  THAT reflects God.  Do you long for delicious food that delights your tongue?  THAT reflects God.  What do YOU, personally long for?  Optimum development for your children?  World Peace?  To eat yoghurt on a balcony over the Mediterranean, of one of those beautiful structures on the island of Santorini, the ones where the domed roofs were painted to match the sky?  Do you long to meet and unite with a soul mate with whom you can share the minutiae of daily life?  Whatever you long for is YOUR way to your own heart where you can love and long for God.  He’s there.  Pay attention to your reaction to things, look for God in those that delight you and lead you to longing and find quiet stillness to sit there with that, even if that means admitting something that you’ve tried to fool yourself out of, don’t be afraid to stay there, even if you feel strong emotions taking hold.  Consecrate your longings in prayer and God will minister to you in ways you don’t comprehend and you might not realize it at first, but look for those feelings that you cannot describe, that’s how you’ll know.