Monthly Archives: October 2011

“Are You Mrs. Mandy?”

Posted on
12

I heard her before I saw her.

“Mrs. Mandy!!”

My eyes lifted from Sunday morning song sheets to see little blonde ringlets and three year old arms bouncing, held straight out like she was flying. And she was flying. Right for me.

There was surprise in her smile and speed in her step–she’d never been that excited to see me before. And she wasn’t slowing down. Forget that I was behind schedule. Forget that two guest musicians were playing and they were waiting on my lead. It thrilled me to hop down and give her the biggest hug she’d get that morning, as if to say yes to what she was silently telling me: I was her favorite person in the whole world.

Just four days later I sat on my guest room floor with her, doing my best to get The Grinch to play while all the grown-ups in my living room talked about Sundays and logos and buildings and the future. She was quiet. She had my pencil in her hand and my sketchbook in front of her.

Out of all that quiet, she looked up at me and said “Are you Mrs. Mandy?” and I said “Yes ma’am. I am Mrs. Mandy.”

She dropped her eyes back to her paper.

Softly: “You look like Mrs. Mandy.”

I wondered why she knew me so well in that Sanctuary but not sure it was me when she sat in my own home, as she’d done for most Thursdays over the last five months. I was the same Mrs. Mandy she saw at church the Sunday before. I was me. But in a different place. And at a different time.

And in that moment a tiny prayer rose up from way deep down inside me and I hoped with the faith of a child that I would recognize Him the next time I saw Him, wherever He might show up in my life.

Tell me, how do you recognize Him, especially when He’s not where you think He should be?

Slowing

Posted on
9

The room was an orangy-yellowy candly glow. And despite the flurry of meetings and raised blood pressure, my mind came to a near-stop at the sight of soft flickering light. My thoughts were clear. My heart relaxed. And everything slowed. Slowed so peacefully. So soulfully. All the everythings just vanished. It was enough to put me to sleep, in the best way, for the rest of the day.

I felt still.

Very still.

I resolved to create this powerful and inspiring stillness in my own home. To give myself permission to slow. To create a sanctuary for myself. To make Space.

By 8pm, the candles were lit.

And life felt so much easier.

My worries melted and dripped with the wax that ran down and over and onto fabric. And it was ok. Accidents were ok. Messes were ok.

I was ok.

     

     

The art in asking answerless questions…

Aside

6

Pablo Neruda and his Book of Questions have profoundly impacted me.

I found him this morning, after seeing him in two places yesterday. I think it’s astounding that the poet went to such great lenghts to write 316 answerless questions, in 74 poems, and they are all collected in a book.

And all of this just months before his death. Oh the cruel irony.

Great art shows significance through great effort and great thoughtfulness. Like the temples that are so ornate and symbolic and elaborate, demanding life and effort from the hands of men in order to claim rightful status as Sacred.

Effort implies significance, infuses a task with meaning and purpose. And all of Neruda’s these lines and rhymes of questions show us the significance and the art of question-asking itself.

There’s no doubt that he was making a deliberate statement, a statement that life is filled with unanswerable questions, but we can still ask them. And should. We should search for more. But we should also see the beauty in the questions.

And those 316 were just some of his.

Thank you for writing such a work, Pablo, with your green-inked pen of hope. Thank you.

Rhythm & Balance

Posted on
10

It’s dark. It’s early.

And I’m prepping coffee to assist in pumping caffeine through my veins.

Awake and reflecting and writing in the early hours. Stealing time out of my sleep schedule. Pushing my body and mind out of the bed and into creativity. Striving for more. Striving for productivity. Walking away from rest.

——-

It’s dark. It’s late. It’s a world of hush outside.

The lights are on and the TV is chattering. Fast talking and flashing images. My body is tired and asking for rest, but my brain is awake–chasing images across the screen and empathizing with the people and stories.

I’m pumping my mind with more information and stimulation in the name of Entertainment. I am not at rest.

——-

What if I let the rhythm of creation set the tone and time for the rhythm of my day? What if I stilled myself as dusk whispered its light lullaby over the earth? And what if I didn’t stir myself until the birds and creatures began to stir at the sun’s song?

What if I accepted the night for what it was meant to be? A time of stillness and quiet and rest? And I let the day be the day, all flurried with life and survival and activity?

I wonder what would happen to my mind, heart, soul, and body if I followed the rhythm of life instead of fought against it… I want to find out.