Walking the Labyrinth

Let nothing trouble you,
let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing;
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
He who possesses God lacks nothing: God alone suffices.
-St. Teresa of Avila

I am not big on travel. I hate packing. One place I want to see is Chartres, France. There is  labyrinth in a cathedral there that I would love to walk. I may have to settle for its twin in San Francisco. A friend was there recently and took pictures. A walk through the Gates of Paradise, Ghiberti Doors and then into the silence and a stroll with Christ would be such a pleasure.

I am saving my change and my air miles. But why wait for it? Might I  have the appetizer now? Might you? I am thinking so.

In the middle of my living room is a soft oriental rug. When I am home alone (yes, I know friends with kids that is a rare occurrence for you...sorry) I put on soft music that slips into the background and does not make me want to dance,or I use a nature tape of water or birds very faintly,  or no music at all and I step into my imaginary labyrinth.

Now there are different kinds. The sectioned off, back and forth as you go from center outward kind in churches and the simple spiral ring you find often in open air. For my purposes it is easier to imagine the spiral. I also favor it because God seems to like it owing to His frequent use of it in shells and galaxies.

I wear my most comfortable clothing that is also appealing. I always consider that I am spending time with someone I want to look nice for.

I begin outside and move inward to the center in a circular fashion if I am seeking a deeper place in God. I begin in the center and work my way around and out if here is something I need to lay down and walk away from. I start in and move out when I am ill or praying in this way for someone who is ill.

Today is a deep day so I begin at the outside and move inward in a spiral using the points of the compass as my stations. I make two revolutions which accommodates the size of the rug. (Small space? Just use a circle and go around x2 with 4 stations.) I start from the west station (just a comfortable place in the room) and begin by taking three cleansing breaths as I try to empty my mind of whatever is in there. I ask for forgiveness of all sin.

I bring with me a scripture I wish to hold in my mind. There are two I favor and I pick one.

Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you. Psalm 143:8

You will keep my mind in perfect peace, for I trust You. Isaiah 26:3

I do not hurry. Something in us makes us want to hurry but I ignore it. I take several minutes at each station repeating from memory my verse and then I wait. Listening. Being empty. Each station I repeat, maybe adding my love in simple terms always listening as I work my way to the center.

Many times I complete the spiral and arrive at the center refreshed and having given thanks, I depart.

There are other times when half way around I become aware of God's tangible and weighty presence. He will have seeped in and rested at some yet imperceptible point and gently fallen into step with me. I ask for nothing. I listen, I soak as in a spring rain and I wait motionless once I am aware of Him until He indicates by a lifting of Presence that I may moves on.

St. Teresa's prayer captures it, "Patience obtains all things. He who possesses God lacks nothing: God alone suffices."

It will not be a "Let God arise. Let His enemies be scattered moment." I crave those and will paint my soul with His colors and step into the battle with that as a war cry. Just not at his moment. This is an "I give myself to you for you keep me in perfect peace," deep moment of spiritual satisfaction. This lingers and draws you back again.

Open the Gates of Paradise. Open your heart. Lay all else aside. Step inside. Meet Him in new ways He is longing to share with you.

 If you have a rug, an imagination and a desire you can begin.


Instructions for Walking
http://www.sundayschoollessons.com/ftlab.htm

Grace Cathedral
http://www.gracecathedral.org/visit/labyrinth/

Labyrinth Locator
http://labyrinthlocator.com/locate-a-labyrinth?action=locate&country=&state=MA

Cancer Center Labyrinth
http://www.wingscancerfoundation.org/labyrinthgarden

No Ornamental Silence

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theater,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings,
with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facades are all being rolled away...
- T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Different people know me differently. To some I am forward and frank and occasionally funny. To others I am a voice at the back of the room. Some know the easygoer but others know if they injure those I care about they had better not be bringing a knife to a gun fight.

I have friends with whom I never seem to run out of conversation. I have a husband who is comfortable with my silence. I have a soul that worships stillness even as I applaud God and dance in His Presence.

The real Kathy is a quiet, solitary person which may be a revelation to some and a cause for disbelief in others. The real Kathy is not overly fond of the sound of her own voice (I would rather write than speak) but treasures times when God talks. Perhaps the origin was a child who ran off to the woods to build secret altars when there was war at home.

I am not desirous of an ornamental silence, the absence of genuine quietness. I have a soul that listens deep and searches out those still places where God is known. The stillness where this earth bound life becomes the vapor and all that is Heaven becomes substantial.

"Be still, and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10

The stillness God refers to calls us not just to be quiet but to cease from motion. One translation of the root word implies we stop beating our wings. We wait. Like the audience in the poem, we do not jump out of our seat at the end of the first act as the lights dim and hide from us the preparations for what comes next.

Neither do we engage our neighbors. We wait in silent expectancy. Something new is coming and the momentary darkness, the stillness, gives us occasion to make the mental change necessary to receive the next act.

I know people who are afraid of that scenery being moved around in the dark. There are hurtful things in their lives but they are familiar. They have left their seats and are searching for the house lights. How many times have I done the same, like the bird beating its wings against the window.

The God of Great Love would have us quiet our wings, let a sacred stillness fill us and flow into all the noisy places where His voice has only been half heard. To wait in silence, in patience, for the set to be changed. I know God for real in that place and my true self emerges in an atmosphere where God is heard even when He whispers. "...when the imposing facades are all being rolled away."

Should you have an interest, there are some resources that might help you to find that still place. Always remember that the Holy Spirit knows the way of it and will direct you to it if you allow Him. It is a place of peace and recovery; of replenishment and insight; of strength.

 
If you come back to me and trust me, you will be saved. 

If you will be calm and trust me, you will be strong. 

Isaiah 30:15

http://www.soulshepherding.org/2012/07/abide-in-prayer/

http://www.bennyhinn.org/articles/articledesc.cfm?id=2940

http://www.lectio-divina.org/

http://www.quietgarden.org/

Pull Me Into Your World

Stretch out your great net, Lord

Your web of light that joins us

like spider silk joins branch to barn

that carries subtle movements

across thought and time

pulling me gently into your world

Catch me up in your dreaming

looking at the sides unseen

moon's hidden face not turned to us

animal voices speaking secrets

seas answering wind

stem kissing branch

You are the mystery

my soul pursues

Pull Me Into Your World  
by Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia

It’s the very nature of wonder to catch us off guard, to circumvent expectations and assumptions. Wonder can’t be packaged, and it can’t be worked up. It requires some sense of being there and some sense of engagement. -Eugene Peterson

That's it. I want to be There. I want the secrets. Big secrets broken down into their parts. I want to marvel at the gears of the Universe, the pulleys of Creation. How does a virus look like an alien landscape, how was both a clock and a compass placed in a horseshoe crab, who taught the bees to dance? How? How? How?

Like the constant, "Why Daddy?" I pestered my earthly father with, I want the keys to the mysteries. I want the new languages needed to grasp such marvels. I want the tour. I want God to show me the blueprints , to drag them out like an old family album. Our history, the story of God and us.

It has all been for us. For you and for me. Made "good" so good someone had to invent  "Hallelujah!."

In long winter evenings I look to the heavens. Moon and stars. Aurora. My friend  Kim and  I chased the moon with a car full of boys and the moon winked and hid as part of the game.

In summer there are ground cover mysteries, and rocks pulled from ponds, starfish found in tide pools and nests in spruce.  

Solomon had his "too wonderful for me" mysteries because it is really God who is too wonderful. We will never reach His borders in an Eternity of trying.

I could go on. But the most wondrous mystery is that God so loved us, all of us, imperfect us, so much that He sent the Dearest to eat with us and drink with us and open the gates of Paradise for us at great cost.

The mystery of His love, who can know it?  Not the most important question. Ask who can have it.

On this night when a friend calls to ask for prayer the One who is our Savior has saved a Hallelujah just for her. The One who made her, who has a thread tied from His heart to hers makes His presence known and the wonder of it dwarfs all the rest of it.

"And from my smitten heart, with tears, two wonders I confess: The wonders of redeeming love and my unworthiness." Elizabeth Clephane

Has Christ smitten your heart? Let Him pull you into the wonder of His matchless love and the world that was made from nothing but that love. Sun, moon, stars and starfish; just hints, promises really of more wonder to come. 

Stretch out your great net, Lord and pull me into your world.

Winter Grapes

Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.
2 Corinthians 4:17 MSG

When Kelly and I were little kids we would go stay with my father's parents, Leona and Tom, and the world would smile on us. Onie was born a grandmother, a playmate, a partner in crime. She kept our secrets secret; our indiscretions forgotten and our dreams at the top of her prayer list. Their house and yard were as magical as they were.

At the far back of the house a spruce lined driveway fell away to a wooded area snuggled in between raspberries and rhubarb. There was a lovely shaded spot that was always cool even in high, humid summer. A Beatrix Potter patch of wonderfulness that drew us to it.

Next to a massive oak there was a grape arbor that sheltered a large green wooden glider. That old swing was a treasure. It was a train, a plane, the pumpkin coach from Cinderella. It was also covered with large dark grape leaves and blue-black concord grapes hanging in thick bunches.

The taste of those grapes is a memory that remains with me half a century later and has the power to raise my spirits by just mentally taking a ride on the old glider. Grapes squeezed out of thick skins and swallowed whole. Purple fingers, full hearts and a grandmother as full of stories as we were full of grapes.

There were other grapes growing near the arbor. We gave those a wide birth. They looked beautiful on the outside but set your teeth on edge. They were a wild sort of grape and they were real climbers. Up the tree and over the top of the garage that vine was like some fairytale beanstalk. Pop would attack it with the hedge clippers but it proved a worthy opponent.

One year when my mother had become very ill after Sherry was born, I went to live with Tom and Leona not just to visit. The following October the leaves were mostly all down, the arbor was bare and the days getting colder. Pop threw me out of the house and told me to go play. An ambition I did not have under the circumstances.

I found myself in the back yard looking for colorful leaves to make a picture for my father to take to the hospital and I saw it, that "I dare you" grape vine all regrown and wrapped around a tree. There were late grapes wearing a light coat of frost.

To this day I do not know what impulse made me eat one but it was a revelation. It burst on my tongue with the most wonderful sweet and spicy surprise. Where had this goodness been hiding itself? How did something so sour become such a blessing and at such a needy time?

The neighbor who owned the raspberry bushes Kelly and I raided without permission and without mercy, was out in the garden dropping a blanket of straw and he saw me up the tree with grapes in hand.

"Winter grapes," he offered. 
"Excuse me?" I answered.
"Frost grapes," was his comeback, "The frost don't kill 'em like other grapes. Makes 'em sweet. So sweet if ya don't pick em' the birds and squirrels eat em' when they turns inta' raisins." 

I liked raisins but raisins without sunshine? Was that possible? I knew I liked the frost grapes. I would just trust him about the raisins.

Years later I would know of people (myself) what I learned about Vitis vulpina, a little frost makes grace work magic. It produces a sweeter fruit, a more patient bounty in unexpected ways. Like Jacob who became Israel and limped under the hand of the Almighty into a sweetened old age, winter grapes improve, thrive even, when circumstances are challenging.

Sometimes in my life I have been almost frostbitten by failed relationships, illness, debts, dashed hopes but every time and without exception the Gardner-God knows just how to use it to make me better, sweeter, stronger and more like Christ. Then He causes it to feed someone else who is famished. At the time if feels like anything but a blessing.

My friend, Rebecca, was sharing this very wisdom with me today out of her own life. It is a hard truth sometimes that crushes the grapes and fills the cup and bids another to drink encouragement. It is the Jesus way. Ours too.

If this day finds frost on your ground or a hard winter blast breaking the last of the tender fruitful stems you depend on, let that go for the moment and trust the One who calls the snow a treasure.  

"God is making new life" from our winter grapes and frost never keeps spring from coming. 

...they will bloom like a vine, and they will be as famous as the bouquet of a prized wine!

Do not look for my replacement. I, the Lord, am the one who answers your prayers and watches over you...Hosea 14:7-8 condensed





May our days be filled with His "unfolding grace."

 


 

I Dreamed of Waking

I dreamed of waking
knees pulled to chest
comforter wrapped softly
the light still drowsy

I dreamed of waking
to a less painful truth;
to a time before
my heart squeezed itself
into a fist, or in some
open-hearted future time

A time not now

If enough mornings pass
will I reach a place
without mourning,
sorrow swallowed up
in quilts and lavender
tucked into bed corners?

I dreamed of waking
from a good dream
sweetness spilling
over me

I dreamed I was not dreamless
I dreamed I did not wake alone

I Dreamed of Waking
by Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia


I have several precious friends who have been robbed. Some have lost health, some family members, some have a spouse who forgot they were married. Death, betrayal, misfortune they can smother hope, dreams and a future. Some are tearful and some have "thoughts that often lie too deep for tears." *

One friend in pain told me she felt as if her husband had murdered their marriage and left the body unburied. (I share this with her permission) Morning is her enemy. For one fraction of a second upon waking she feels quite her former, untormented self- then she remembers the bed is empty and she is alone.

At a memorial service recently for the mother of a friend, the Rabbi spoke of how Moses turned aside to see the mystery of a bush burning but not being consumed. He said the Hebrew word to describe the bush refers to brambles, thorns. In the midst of the thorns burned the fire of God's Glory. 

Such is this life, he shared. God in the midst of our suffering not repelled by it or hindered by it and often coexisting with those thorns.  By His own admission it is holy ground.

The Rabbi also taught us that "I Am who I Am" is best translated, "Let me be whom I will be." What a thought! To let Him be whom He would be to us! To "let" God be Himself.

You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, Each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book. Psalm 56:8

When we are empty of dreams Our Father dreams for us. When we wake in an "empty" room we find He is there sitting quietly waiting for our eyes to adjust to His presence. Holy ground. God in the midst of our hurt, cradling our dreams, whispering to that open-hearted future. In that timeless moment, most importantly, just being there. Being God for us.

I dreamed I did not wake alone. 














*Wordsworth





 

An Early Summer

Tell me where May hides- tell me when long light arrives
when bees turn humming into honey

When will the finches dance on thistle tops
and woodpeckers peck lunch from poles?

Tell me when winter will be admonished
and bashful seeds will grow brave- bursting goodness

Tell my heart when it will swell and fill with life again
and hunt for the eggs of unhatched songs

Tell me when grass will cover grief and stretch as carpet
for tender feet with just a memory of running

Tell me when the Glory will pass by to full-wake the world and I

An Early Summer
(For a friend with Summer in her future)

by Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia

The Lord's unfailing love and mercy still continue,
Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise...
Lamentations 3:22-23

Hope In Season

The same branch now
as bare can be
belongs to my favorite
fragrant tree
though she hides
her scent in frost
her summer goodness
is not lost
nor are the nests
so full of eggs
empty now
save just the dregs
soon spring will call
to sap and leaf
her beauty nature
will complete
blest the soul
who sees the glimmer
of her abundance
in darkest winter

-Hope in Season by Kat 

 for Cheryl Martin's Birthday

For out of His fullness (abundance) we have all received one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and gift [heaped] upon gift. -John 1:16