Tag: personal growth

soil

by hovering love

“Now you are ready to listen to the revelation of the parable of the sower and his seeds: . . .” Matthew 13:18 (TPT)

The parable of the sower recounts the tale of a farmer who goes out to sow seeds. As he sows, some of the seeds fall on the hard beaten path where the seeds can only lie on the surface waiting to be eaten by birds. Some seeds fall on gravel where the seeds sprout up quickly but wilt just as quickly when exposed to hot sun and no rain because they have no roots to sustain them. Some seeds fall among weeds where the seeds sprout but are overtaken and suffocated by the heartier weeds. And some seeds fall on good soil, soil that’s been carefully prepared, making it a receptive host for the seeds. These seeds sprout, grow, thrive and produce a harvest that exceeds the farmer’s wildest dreams.

Through the years, I’ve heard a variety of sermons preached on this parable and its intended meaning. I’ve listened as the four types of soil were related to the hearts and lives of four different types of people. Some people are hard beaten soil, some are gravel, some are filled with weeds and some are good soil. And there always seems to be exhortations for each kind of soil to make whatever changes are necessary for it to become the good type. But that hasn’t been my experience.

I have been all of these types of soil, and I have little doubt that I still am. This is my human reality: I can be each of these soils at different times and all of them simultaneously. I can be good soil regarding one aspect of my heart and being while being a hard beaten path regarding a different aspect of who I am and how I live. I can’t help but wonder how many seeds are continuously scattered upon me by the Holy Spirit that never even have a chance to germinate in my heart, let alone take root and produce a harvest? Far too many to count, I’m sure. Yet, the Holy Spirit keeps on sowing. I know this to be true; otherwise, there would be no evidence of any fruitfulness in my life at all. But I have experienced some pretty amazing fruit—harvests that have certainly exceeded my wildest dreams of what would happen or could even be possible.

Is there anything that I can do to prepare my own heart to be receptive to these seeds? I’ve heard all kinds of ideas on that subject, too. I have experienced only one thing that seems to make a real difference in the condition of my soil: humility. If I’m willing to be real with myself and with God, I’m much more likely to see change occur. Not that I’m capable of producing that change, but I am more changeable. After all, the soil is just the soil—not the farmer who prepares it, not the seed that sprouts and grows and produces fruit in it. I’m very grateful that the Holy Spirit continues to sow seeds upon me whether the soil of my heart is “good” or not.

Thank you, Father Son and Holy Spirit, for your mercy and grace. Thank you for continuing to prepare the soil of my heart, more and more, over time. Thank you for continuing to sow seeds within me whether I’m ready and willing to take them in or not. Thank you for producing your fruit within me. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for loving me and working with me just as I am. I love you. All that I am is because of you.

Amen!

shine

by hovering love

“Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:15, 16 (The Message)

This passage of talk about being salt and light for the world has always elicited mixed emotions in me. For decades, I’ve heard far too many exhortations using this passage from the pulpit and fellow Christians to boldly evangelize everything and everyone around me, leaving me feeling like a second-rate Christian at best. This charge to be open with my life, generously sharing my life and being with others, goes against my personality and temperament. First of all, I am an introvert. My personality type is that of a 5 on the enneagram and an INFP on the Meyers Briggs scale (if that means anything to you). By nature, I am quiet, reserved, thoughtful, sensitive, deeply intuitive, intelligent, protective of my privacy and space, cautious and untrusting towards people that I don’t know but deeply engaging with people that I know and feel comfortable with. When I do interact with others, I prefer to do so in a one-on-one or small group manner, and I have little interest in superficial small talk. I accept and enjoy the way that God has made me, and I am content. However, being “salt and light for the world”, especially the kind that glows brightly from a hilltop that everyone near and far can easily see, does not come naturally to me! It feels frighteningly overwhelming! If I were asked to put myself out there in this manner for any other reason, my response would be a very quick “No, thank you!” But since this charge is for the sake of others, and is pleasing to God, it sounds a bit more appealing—still an unpleasant and stretching challenge for me, but more appealing all the same.

I appreciate how The Passion Translation puts this in terms of being the kind of salt and light that is beneficial to everyone in the house. The inside of my house is not glaring brightly on a hilltop for all to see, it’s much more intimate, personal and real—something that I feel much more comfortable with, even with strangers. As odd as it may sound considering how I’ve described myself, I am willing to share my life and being with others, even painful or humiliating truths and experiences, if I sense that it will benefit them in any way. All humans are unique, made with painstaking cleverness and creativity on God’s part. Therefore, all humans will respond to and obey God’s charges in ways that are unique to them—unique to the person that God created them to be. We all have our own unique ways of fulfilling the charge to “shine”.

As I sit quietly with this passage of Scripture, I hear God’s gentle invitation to me:

     “My child, trust me to place you where you will be of most benefit to yourself and others—both among those you see regularly and those who are strangers to you. Trust me to be involved in each and every interaction that you have. Know that no part of yourself that you share with others will ever be lost or shared in vain. I am not wasteful with your life, your love or your being. Remember, nothing is ever wasted with me. Be anxious for nothing. Come, and follow me.”    

plan

by hovering love

“He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter.  . . . ‘You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.’” Mark 8:32,33 NIV

Poor Peter!  He responds to Jesus’ words as someone whose dearest loved one has just announced that they have been fatally diagnosed and only have weeks to live.  Denial, objection, determined to find a cure and fight to the bitter end—I can almost hear Peter say, “We can beat this! You must live!”  Peter is stunned but not stopped, determined to find the solution that will bring about what he desires most of all.  Peter is just as resolute in this moment (that Jesus should live and reign) as Jesus is (that he must die and be resurrected)—perhaps even more so. But Jesus won’t allow himself or his other disciples to be swayed by Peter’s temporal focus, and he sets the record straight.  How hard this must have been for all of them—a moment, a time and a truth that was drenched in deep, deep sorrow.

As I reflect on this story, I realize that Peter’s desire that Jesus live and reign was perfectly in line with God’s plan; however, his timing and manner of execution were all wrong. Just like Peter, we humans often have deep longings and desires that are perfectly in line with God’s plan for our lives and beings.  And just like Peter, our timing and manner of execution frequently involves avoiding the necessity of waiting and suffering and sacrifice—things that must be involved to make it all holy.  Peter wants the glory without the pain; he wants it to be easily acquired and he wants it now (for Jesus, himself and all the others).  But experiencing the process of being disentangled from this world so you can be fully invested in God’s kingdom takes time, and it involves suffering and the loss of personal sacrifice—letting go of the false before you can grab ahold of the true.  Peter is learning, though, as we all must—the hard way.  This hardship has its cost, but also its benefit.  Hope emerges as we embrace and endure the sufferings, losses and sacrifices along the way.  This is the means by which our hope is made true, pure and indestructible.

God bless Peter.  God bless us all.

Amen!

jersey

by hovering love

March Madness is winding to its conclusion and the baseball season has begun. Screens of all shapes and sizes are filled with images of athletes wearing team jerseys of all colors and styles. Stadiums, auditoriums, streets and bars are filled with folks wearing team jerseys, too—all cheering for and hoping to celebrate their favorite team, the team they’ve chosen to identify themselves with.

I recently attended a retreat and decided to spend a few extra moments of quiet reflection in the monastery sanctuary before heading home. As I gazed upon the image of Jesus above the altar area, the memory of all the different jerseys entered my mind. I was suddenly struck with the thought that I was on Jesus’ team. Having been a person who never played team sports in my youth (females born in the 1950’s had little to no opportunity for that kind of experience) and who was frequently picked last for any games in PE class that required a team, this was a rather exciting epiphany. “I may be getting old, but at least now I’m on a team,” the thought of which almost made me laugh out loud.

As I drove home, my mind was filled with the array of team jerseys that we can wear in life that have nothing to do with athletics or sports. We have metaphorical jerseys for family, friends, school, work, hometown, interests, preferences, opinions, ideologies, ethnicity, socio-economic status, education, etc. We Christians can also have our own “jerseys” for denominational affiliation, and even the individual church that we attend. These various jerseys can give us a sense of belonging, but they can also promote a feeling of exclusivity and division. I’ve attended various kinds of churches throughout the years. Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt the need to own or wear the kind of “jerseys” that Christians can wear. This led me to ponder what Jesus’ team jersey would look like. Unlike the jerseys for all the things mentioned above (including denomination and church), which are often available in only one color and a size that supposedly “fits all”, each Jesus jersey would be made with its unique wearer in mind. The garment would be sized to fit perfectly. It would be made of a richly textured cloth that keeps you cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and it would breathe and move with you without encumbering in any way. And the colors! Jesus’ team would have jerseys of every color, in every shade and hue that exists, made in the exact color that will enhance the original beauty of its wearer and render them radiantly gorgeous—just the kind of jersey that even I am enticed to wear.

What jersey are you wearing today?

 

 

 

measure

by hovering love

“All throughout his time with his disciples, Jesus had demonstrated a deep and tender love for them. And now he longed to show them the full measure of his love.”  John 13:1

Dear Jesus,

What does it look like for you to demonstrate the “full measure of your love” for me?  The full measure of your love appears to be that it’s immeasurable, far too vast and never-ending to sufficiently survey, value or assess.  How do I measure that which is immeasurable?  I don’t believe that I can; the very best that I can do is simply allow myself to receive and experience its fullest effects.

What does it look like for me to demonstrate the “full measure of my love” for you, and for others? I’ve never deluded myself by imagining that the same could be said of my love—immeasurable.  However, I have been created in your image—the image of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. If that is true, and I believe it is, then I cautiously suspect that the real measure of my love is much different than I’ve ever reckoned it to be.  In your image, it only makes sense that the love that my heart and soul have to offer is much larger, deeper and longer lasting than anything I’m usually inclined to give it credit for, or even explore.  I believe this to be true; yet, help me in my unbelief.  I often feel that I don’t have much love to give.  At the same time, I do realize that the smallest amount of love can go a long way—if I am willing to take the risk to put it out there, express it, and demonstrate it  and  if I can just get past the fear.

Throughout my life, love has frequently felt like a dangerous experience for me—like inadvertently placing myself out on a limb that someone is already in the process of sawing off.  As a result, I’ve learned to “measure” out my love, with the care, caution and hypersensitivity of a frightened animal.  This is the condition of my heart and soul without the touch and transformation of your immeasurable love.  But now that your touch and transformation have come to me, I must realize that the measure of my love is no longer as it was.  The cowering, frightened animal is an illusion, not my reality.  The time has come for me to say “good bye” to the fear so I can live into the real, renewed measure of my love, both for you and for others.  It’s time for me to step into and rejoice in my own immeasurable love—the share of your divinity that you have placed within me.  If I promise to exercise the measure of courage that I possess, will you show me what it looks like for me to demonstrate the full measure of my love?

As always,

I am yours, and yours alone.

 

geese

by hovering love

“Even now, I know that whatever you ask God he will give you . . . I know that he will be raised up in the resurrection at the end of time . . . All along I have believed that you are the Messiah, the Son of God who comes into the world.” John 11:22, 24, 27 (The Message)

Martha has known and believed the truth about Jesus “all along”. She believes she’ll see her brother, Lazarus, again at the resurrection at the end of time (she’s obviously not a Sadducee). She also believes that God gives Jesus whatever he asks for. Lazarus has died and been in the tomb for 4 days. What hope is Martha harboring in her heart and soul? The yearning to have her brother alive again is powerfully strong, but would it ever occur to her to ask Jesus to restore Lazarus to life today—not just at the end of time? How far into the unimaginable does Martha’s knowledge and belief extend? Could she ever be bold enough to ask Jesus for such a thing to occur in the present moment?

I relate to Martha. Like her, I know and believe in Jesus as Messiah, Son of God. He is my Savior, Brother, Friend, and Shepherd. But how far into the unimaginable does my knowledge, belief and faith extend? Far too often, I feel that my knowledge, belief and faith are too limited by my earthly experiences of life and by my thoughts. Like most humans, my thoughts throughout the day frequently resemble a cocktail party of geese—honking loudly and persistently with little depth or any real thinking involved. With that kind of racket going on, how can anyone hope to think clearly and perceptively at all? I yearn to be set free from these limitations, but I also fear what I don’t know and have never personally experienced. How can I escape the “geese” and enter into that place where real thinking occurs and true insight is perceived—my own heart and soul?

As I sit still, quieting my own heart and mind, I can perceive more than I could otherwise imagine. Is it possible that deep down within Martha’s heart and soul, she knows what she wants (Lazarus to arise from death now) and she knows and believes that Jesus can make it happen? That sounds like both insight and perception. But her conscious thinking (geese) can’t relate or even consider this due to the limited earthly experience that she’s had (she’s only been taught and believes that resurrection occurs in the end times). However, her heart and soul know the truth, even if her thoughts are lagging behind. Without her realizing it, her heart and soul speak the truth of her desire and beliefs without her conscious thoughts having a clue to the truth and reality that her heart and soul possess. Like all humans, Martha needs to trust and live from her heart and soul (that’s what makes her human) and not from her geese-like thoughts or limited ability to logically reason (that’s what makes her earthly, and influenced by Western philosophy). Just like Martha, so do I! Only then will I be set free from my limitations. Only then will I experience the fullness of life in Christ that both Jesus and I yearn for me to have, live and be.

Show me how this transformation works, Jesus. Please enable my heart and soul knowledge, faith and belief to be the reality of my daily life experience. Amen!

 

 

 

tornado

by hovering love

From the year 2008 through 2009 I experienced some severe “pruning” via: the loss of my mother to cancer (this involved struggling through many issues not directly related to her illness, as well as the cancer itself), the tragic loss of my brother-in-law to a car accident (leaving a wife and 3 year old son), and the painful and perplexing loss of my part-time job and relationships I had there.  This was followed by the autumn of 2009, which brought some long-standing marriage-threatening struggles with my husband to a head (struggles that did not experience resolution for several years to come).

The autumn of 2010 is when the real “darkness” began (and I thought the previous years had been hell, itself).  As I search for a way to describe my experience, the image of a tornado comes to mind, a tornado at night.  All of a sudden I found myself in a swirling force, in total darkness and completely out of control of what was happening to me.  The “tornado” had scooped me up and I was swirling in the dark, being bumped and smacked by other things (painful things) swirling in the darkness with me.  I couldn’t see what was hitting me, but it hurt each time impact occurred.  In time (what felt like forever), the swirl spit me out into the center of the tornado, where I felt like I was in suspended animation—it was dark, but quiet and calm and I realized that I was actually breathing for the first time in “forever” (the pressure of the swirl inhibited breathing).  It felt odd, surreal and uncomfortable, but I was thankful to breath.  Then, without warning, I was sucked back into the swirl. The next time the swirl spit me into the center, I gulped a deep breath and let loose with rage at God.  “What the hell are you doing to me?  What have I done to deserve this?”  Etcetera. Again I was sucked into the swirl and again I was spit into the center—always in the dark, disoriented, furious, and afraid.  “What is happening to me?  Am I going insane?  God, why don’t you answer me?  Do you even know that I’m here?”

Today, eight years later, I realize that when the tornado first scooped me up I was at the bottom of the funnel where the space inside the swirl is extremely small, tight and cramped.  My times in the quiet center were short because the space was small and in close proximity to the force of the swirl—thus, sucking me back into the swirl quickly after I’d been spit into the center.  Time seemed to move at a glacial speed, but looking back I can sense that God was slowly moving me upward in the funnel.  The base was close, intense and very dark.  As I moved upward, the center seemed less constrained as the diameter of the funnel grew larger.  It was still dark and I still raged, but somehow it seemed more spacious.

At some point (I don’t know when), I stopped fighting the process.  I could almost see humor in my condition—how could I ever have believed that I could have any control over myself, or life?  “What the f@*# am I doing . . . fighting God?  As if that makes any sense at all!  Ok, God, I still don’t like what’s happening but it’s not like I’m going to beat you or even try—so . . . this is your mess, you do what you want with it!  You fix it!”

The swirl/center alternations continued, but my times in the center seemed ever so slightly longer and the dark didn’t seem as dark.  In what felt like a thousand years, I noticed that I could dimly discern the sizes and shapes of what swirled about with me.  Surprise, surprise—these things that had been hitting and hurting me were my own idols and attachments, my own issues, my false self!  They were swirling with me and I was helpless to let them go or hurl them from the tornado.  Back in the center, deep sighs came with the realization that God, Himself, would have to take care of them, because I couldn’t.  Like my attachments, I was simply “along for the ride”.

Slowly, my times in the center became times of acknowledgment and repentance.  The attachments remained in the swirl, but I was a bit better able to see and recognize them.  The swirl and the center continued to become less dark—there was light without being light, if that makes sense.  Or maybe God was just giving me better “night vision”. Whatever it was, it was God—not me—who was responsible.

There were moments in the center that lasted for months—blissful times of sweet, tender love from God.  Then, back into the swirl—but, being further up in the funnel causes the swirl to move more slowly and less intensely than at the base, and the dark doesn’t seem to be as noticeable or bothersome.

The swirl still isn’t pleasant or comfortable, but I’m more accepting and aware of the blessings it contains.  There is a contentment and peace that comes from knowing that God has chosen to put me in the Heaven-BoundTornado of His Love—his crazy, over-the-top love. How could the tornado ever have caused me pain, fear and rage?  It is because his love is fierce and terrifying, and it always will be.  His love will not be defeated or denied—ever.  I will remain in the tornado as long as he desires me to be here.  I marvel at his amazing, uncompromising love and devotion to me, to make me all that he intended for me to be since the beginning of time—one with him.  Thank you, Abba, for your crazy, over-the-top love for me.  Make me to be crazy, over-the-top in love with you, too.

As for my attachments, I have learned a few things from the tornado.  They feel quite big, but they are really quite small.  They may go all the way back to my time in my mother’s womb (even beyond, perhaps), but they aren’t who I am and they don’t define me. They don’t need to frustrate or defeat me, either.  If I see them as friends, they can help me to a deeper surrender and trust in God.  But they must be kept in their proper place—in Satan’s hands they are weapons of destruction, but in the Holy Spirit’s hands they are tools of instruction, redemption and transformation.

 

 

empathy

by hovering love

“he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place” (Matthew 14:13)

“he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14)

Jesus had just heard the news of John the Baptist’s death, of how he was beheaded by King Herod and his head was then presented to Herod’s niece/step-daughter during the course of a wild dinner party—all done simply to enable Herod to save face before his guests. Jesus was deep in grief over the tragic and very traumatic loss of John, his relative and ministry fore-runner, and he desperately desired to spend some time alone, quietly embracing and processing his grief. But crowds of people observed his departure and followed him on foot, meeting him when his boat came ashore in a remote part of the coastline. Jesus saw the crowd of people approaching and he realized that his plan to care for himself and his grief was not going to happen, at least not at that time. His response to this situation is both stunning and awe-inspiring to me. I might have felt angry and put out, overwhelmed and empty of anything good worth giving to others in need. “How can I be expected or even asked to take care of others and their needs when all I want to do is curl up in the fetal position and lick my own wounds? It’s just too much!” might have been foremost in my thoughts at that moment. Not Jesus; he saw them coming and he “had compassion on them and healed their sick”. Some might make the excuse that Jesus was able to respond this way because he was God, possessing super-natural abilities beyond the tendencies and capabilities of humanity, but I don’t think that’s the case. “How could Jesus respond with such selflessness?” is a good question, one worth looking inside of my own heart and soul for the answer.

I believe that Jesus’ compassion for the loss and pain of others and his willingness to care for their needs came out of the depths of his own personal, present loss and pain. The source of his compassion was not their needs, but the very depth of his own need for soul care and healing. Jesus demonstrates much more than compassion. His suffering related to the reality and experience of their suffering—person to person—and the result was human empathy in action. Empathy inspired and motivated Jesus to minister to their needs; he didn’t just sympathize with their pain, he felt it as well and his heart went out to them. Jesus’ own need for care held great value—it made him truly empathetic towards the need for care in others.

What value does the pain, loss, suffering and grief that we all experience in life have? These experiences can burden our spirit and souls to the point of bitterness, despair and death if not expressed and shared with others who can extend the grace and care needed to see us through to a better end. Suffering has value and the power to produce goodness within us, if we let it. It can make us more forgiving, caring, kind, understanding, gracious, humble and brave—both for ourselves and others. It can make us more human in the very best sense and demonstration of the word.

I sense an invitation from Jesus in this story: “Don’t deny or hide from suffering, let it do its work and allow that work to be good, for your own benefit and for the benefit of others that I will lead along your path.” As I have opened up my suffering to God and the gentle care of the Holy Spirit, I have found there is always a reason and purpose in my experiences of suffering. When I have suffered, God has often led another person along my path later on who was suffering as well. The care that I received from God in my suffering could then be expressed through me to the other in need of similar care. My desire is to let suffering perform its good work within me so I’ll be open and prepared to allow God to care for others through me when the opportunity presents itself. No gift, blessing or suffering in life is for me alone—all is given and received for the purpose of being shared with others, as well. That’s what it means to be truly human.

coffee

by hovering love

“You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world.” (John 8:23)

To use a metaphor, the Bible is like a beautiful letter sent by God to introduce himself and to develop a relationship with all of mankind. Repeatedly expressed within the words of this letter is the following message, “By the way, I’m at the corner coffee shop each day from 6:00am to 10:00pm. I’d love to share some conversation and/or amiable silence with you anytime throughout the day. I have special insights for you about your experience of this day and how I want to share in each moment of it with you. I would be so pleased if you spend some time with me.”

Jesus, himself, spent much time in quiet conversation alone with his Father. Even though Jesus knew the “letter” by heart, he also knew that he needed to listen to what the Father had to say to him each day, moment by moment. Jesus knew that he could not live through each day in a way that would please his Father without being fully aware and attentive to his Father’s voice throughout the day. If this is true for Jesus, how can it not also be true for Jesus’ followers? Sadly enough, this isn’t often the practice of those who claim to follow Jesus. Many Christians (myself included) focus our attention and motivations in life upon the Bible’s words alone without ever going to the coffee shop to actually meet with the Author in person and spend time in quiet, intimate dialogue with him. We work hard to familiarize ourselves with these words, scrutinizing and memorizing their locations and definitive interpretations, without allowing ourselves to become equally familiar and intimate with the One who sent these words to us in the first place.

Jesus is coming from a completely different place than I do: physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I am earthly and earthbound; Jesus’ living experience and perspective are far beyond my horizons. I long to know and experience Jesus’ life and perspective but my horizons are too low and small. I fear what is beyond my very limited and limiting horizons, but if that’s where Jesus lives and is taking me, then I want to go. Reading and treasuring the words of the “letter” are helpful, but I can’t share in Jesus’ life and experience if I don’t share in his practice of listening for the Father’s voice and direction each moment of each day.

So how will I go through my day today? Will I just “read the letter”, or will I intentionally meet with him for coffee and personal, intimate interaction throughout the day? How mindful and aware will I be of God’s presence with me today? Will I even hear him as he shares his loving insights and desires for me today? Will I take the time to please God by being attentive to his voice in my ear today?

I have a sense that Jesus is speaking to me now. He’s saying, “Don’t let my letter replace me as God. Respect and honor my letter, but follow me! I am the way, the truth and the life – not my letter!”

blendering

by hovering love

Psalms 34:8  “Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see—how good God is. Blessed are you who run to him.” (The Message)

I was chatting with a friend one morning and we came up with the idea that life is something that we “blender through”. Let me explain. Life is always throwing something new into the mix, kind of like a person who likes to indiscriminately experiment with their morning smoothie. For example, when you finally get to go on a long-awaited special vacation and while you’re there your body seems intent upon developing a sinus infection.

By the way, I like to try new things but I’m not an indiscriminate experimenter – I have a fondness for knowing that what comes out of the blender in the end will not only be edible, it will actually be tasty and definitely NOT disgustingly foul. I also don’t want anyone to throw anything into the blender without my foreknowledge and approval, only to find out later that something new has been added to the mix but I don’t know what it is. That kind of “not knowing” can be very irritating where smoothies are concerned and highly anxiety producing in other more important areas of life. However, this is what life does to us on an uncomfortably regular basis. And the best that we can do is “blender through”. But what does that look like when you’re on vacation and fighting off a sinus infection instead of having a good time?

Fortunately for me, another friend had given me some of her peppermint oil beadlets, which I had absent-mindedly stashed in my purse. She had said they were great for sinus problems and anti-bacterial in nature, so I decided to give them a try. Not only did they help to keep my sinuses clear, they also did a good job of fighting off the bacteria that was copulating madly in an effort to make me really sick. I’m not sure how many months the beadlets had been sitting in my purse, unused and forgotten. I’m just thankful they were there when I finally remembered them and was desperate enough to take the risk to give them a try. I became aware of the value of my friend’s thoughtful and generous gift, which was greatly appreciated, and I experienced her loving gesture just when I needed it most.

In addition, the fact that my body was fighting off this illness drove home the point that I was on vacation for a reason: to vacate my everyday life, relax, get some good rest and slow my pace to an amiable stroll. Because of and in spite of my illness, I had a great vacation that I thoroughly enjoyed!

Oddly enough and here again, my unwanted illness and my friend’s caring gift were two more examples of how Love hovers over my soul. Awareness of this truth can be difficult at times, especially when the swirl of the “blender” is fast and loud. But this awareness is possible if I’m paying attention and I’m willing to taste it and see it for what it is.