if you are in My boat....

Katie's first memory is of overwhelming sadness.

It is Christmastime and she was unsure of what was happening but all her family members were in tears. Her father had just passed away and the family was trying to find a way to celebrate Christmas for their beautiful little girl of two.This sadness is engraved on her soul but somewhere along the way, Katie decided that this was not going to define her, this loss.She is sunny, this daughter-in-law of mine. Loving and sunny.I treasure her more than she knows.

Our first memory is usually of something out of the ordinary. Mine was. I may have been four years old and my sister and I are playing on a dock at a lake in Winsted, Ct. All I recall is being over my head in the lake and a green hand reaching down to grab mine. My sister pulled me up and I am sure I shrieked loudly for the next hour.What a fright.

My grandson John is 4 and he tumbled into the pool a week ago at the place where he was getting swimming lessons. My son alerted the comatose life guard who hauled him out.Will this be his first memory?It's a frightening experience.Will it color his life?

My son Sean and a friend were lost on the Flint River behind our house when they were in high school. I remember that the day's light was rapidly leaving  when it occurred to me that something was wrong. I stood on the hill above the river frantically praying for their safety. I never knew until later that that happening was the most  frightful of Sean's life, he who has handled snakes and traveled to strange places. Finally, they spotted a house and went to find an open door and safety.

We are instructed to hear God's words and put them into practice. When the rainy season and the torrents set in,  if we have built our house on that rock, it will not be destroyed. We will not be destroyed.

Today,I heard this:

"Today you are Mine, tomorrow, Mine, through eternity, Mine. Nothing can harm you or your thinking if you just claim that knowledge and trust it.
What can go wrong as long as you are in this boat of My constructing ? This is what the stormy sea story is all about. You are in My boat and no harm can come to that essence which is you."

the mysterious circle

Raise your hand if you are weary of my dreams.Sorry, not enough hands, so here I go again.This dream happened at least twenty years ago and though brief, it stunned me and left me mystified.

We are in a circle, a group dancing with abandon and great joy. God is in our midst, I am holding His hand. To my left is Jesus and I hold his right hand as we twirl.We are all at peace and sodden with joy. Then, it happens: Christ lets go of my hand and starts to drift away.I say, "No, You can't go.What will we do?" He took my hand , put it in the hand of the person on His other side and said clearly: "Now, you lead the dance." He drifted away and we danced on.

What did this mean? What was I being asked to do?I had no idea and for years when I thought of this occasion with Christ it still made no sense. Until last week.

A circle suggests a lap where a mother will hold her child until the child decides it's time to go off. That's the best kind of circle.The stones on the beach on Iona, are all round and smooth, tumbling around for eons in the ocean until they are finished and are flung up on the shore in their dazzling colors. And then there is our writing circle at church. Three years ago, I put an ad in the bulletin and wondered if anyone would come.

We have gathered in a small classroom to share our stories, inspired by art pieces. The joy is palpable.We have even started Joy Journals to record our happy moments. The circle is safe, affirming and inclusive. Everyone is heard because everyone is seen. Some comments:"writing has given me such peace of mind and soul,.'..we are all better people for this experience, '.'we have a loving environment to be as creative as we want to be,, this class opened the door to creativity and real joy."

A circle.

.Sometimes the circle feels like a carousel as we laugh and  go up then down in mood. Sometimes, it feels like circular confessional as we share our wounds.The tissue box travels easily in a circle as do the hands of compassion..

A circle, no beginning and no end. In all of this Christ is the center. I can see him looking through the door window as His grace circles, swirls and heals.I nod.

the eternal fog

This story has been haunting me for awhile now. What to make of it? How does it fit ? Where to start?

It begins when my second grandson was three and was having a serious chat with his Dad. Out of nowhere Riley said this: " God said that I had to go down the steps, down to earth and into Mommy's tummy and I had to go by myself."My son asked if he was scared and Riley said ,"No, but I just had to do this by himself and that was that." I think my son was stunned and never thought to ask more, nor would I have.

Riley is now a tall , ginger, good looking young man of 17 years who loves children and is kind in every way. I recall giving him a small bag of Teddy Grahams when he was 5 and the first thing he did was offer one to his Grandpa. Sweet. In my wildest dreams I cannot see Riley being a bully, his heart wouldn't allow it. He has no memory of this conversation and I had no idea that this kind of memory is offered up by many children.

"Memories of Heaven"  by Dr. Wayne Dyer is a fairly recent book and it jumped off the shelf into my hand the other day when we just happened to be wasting time in the library. In reading some of the amazing stories I found this: the youngest child in a family, Abigail, describes "coming down and into her Mommy's tummy."That struck a chord.

A particularly touching story involved a mother who struggled to feel love for her son and then this happened: "I tucked Sean in and he began to sob uncontrollably.As compassionately as I could I asked him what was the matter and he said he wanted to be with his mother in heaven and he couldn't take being here anymore.I asked him what his mother in heaven gave him that I didn't and he answered; "Pure Love"?.He said that God was a being of white light and filled with love and that his Mother and God decided I needed to go to earth and be your son to help you learn. how to experience and give pure love.Sean was 8 years old at the time.

Wordsworth, who I adore, said this:.." our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting." Perhaps this is why we are restless here, down the steps and away from the Divine: we know better. But there is work to do and we must turn our backs and forget.

In prayer, I asked for help. What could the meaning of all this really be ?This was poured into my empty bowl:

"The point of the story will be that you are never without Me. Not here or there. Always cared for, always loved. From the ends of the earth to the heights and depths, nothing can separate you from the love of God.
God cannot withdraw His Love because it is all there is-it surrounds and seeps in all the cracks like an eternal fog that cannot be dispersed. It is all there is."