Daily dose (April 1 – 4)

TUESDAY APRIL 1 —

“You are a light. You are the light.” John Lewis wrote, “Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light.”
Yes, and amen. And I will confess that we preachers find it seductive to sermonize. Depending on the crowd size. But today, we don’t need a sermon. We do need stories to settle our spirit. And yes, to carry these truths in our heart.
To remember who (and whose) we are.
Rev. Steven Charleston (Choctaw elder and retired Episcopal bishop) helps us carry these truths. “It is not for me to tell you who you are, but please let me share this small insight. The beauty of your life is contained in its simplicity. You were born to be an agent of grace, sharing kindness into the world. You are an unconscious healer, restoring hope into the world. These two simple definitions are a spiritual job description. They represent the core of your calling. I believe they describe all of us, uniting us into a shared purpose. Beyond all of the differences we construct among ourselves, we have a common task. Agents of grace. Sources of hope. If we see ourselves in this way, the complexity we imagine becomes the simplicity we are.”

We easily forget, don’t we… the grounding and cathartic power of grace?
Yes, the power to shine the light on shame and fear and paranoia.
To invite us to bear the beams of love, to be agents of grace.
To invite us to be at home in our skin.
And we forget the power and life-giving restoration and repair from simple gestures of compassion.
Here’s the deal: Today, let us remember who we are.
And let us remember, compassion is real.
“Compassion is at the heart of every little thing we do. It is the dearest quality we possess. Yet all too often it can be cast aside with consequences too tragic to speak of. To lose our compassion, we lose what it is to be human.” (Anon)

Petals from cherry blossoms dapple and speckle the pathways on my morning walk, marking April’s arrival. And I smile big, as if walking down the aisle, on the petals of celebration, good luck and well wishes.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 2 —

When a young girl in an African village heard that her visiting teacher would be leaving their village, she wanted to give her a special gift.  The girl didn’t have any money to buy a present for her teacher, but finally determined what she would do.
She was gone for two days. When she returned, she was carrying the most exquisite shell anyone in her village had ever seen.
“Where did you find such a beautiful shell?” her teacher asked amazed.
The child told her that such shells were found only on a certain faraway beach.
The teacher was deeply touched, because she knew that the girl had walked many miles to find the shell. “Why, it’s wonderful, but you shouldn’t have gone all that way to get a gift for me.”
Her eyes brightening, the girl smiled and answered, “Long walk part of gift.”
Yes, sometimes we need a different way to measure.
When we take this to heart, the story doesn’t just end there. It emanates.
Because light always spills. And spilling, it becomes a gift to the world around us.

“You are a light. You are the light,” John Lewis wrote. “Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light.”
And yet. In the western world, we are wired (and enticed) to ask, “Am I doing it—shining my light—right (correctly)?” After all, with the way we measure life as a performance, we don’t want to get it wrong. Or disappoint.
Let’s just say one more time; we do need a different way to measure. Because here’s the deal: Maybe success isn’t about acing a test. Or performance.
So, let us pause, and hear the affirmation, “You are a light.”
Now, you want my litmus test?
Here’s what I want to bring to any moment, or any encounter (in the “time that is given us”).
–Showing up.
–Being present, wrapped in empathy (“I see you”).
–Enabling the power of connection and healing, fueled by kindness.

In the soil of showing up and being present, compassion is grown. And there, we make a difference.
Here’s what I love about that young girl in the story; In taking steps—long walk (being present)—compassion is born and spills from grace. Spills from the light that is inside. Yes, compassion is born from big hearts that are fully alive, hearts that are grateful, hearts that see how we are all connected to one another.
And that connection matters.
And that connection makes our world a better place.
Gifts of compassion show up in delightful and surprising ways. Surprising because they can be unexpected, because they don’t always fit in the mental box we’ve made for love—for compassion and kindness and empathy. That’s why compassion will always break down barriers, and defenses, and walls, and injustice, allowing us to embrace the gift of vulnerability.

Coretta Scott King’s reminder, “Love is such a powerful force. It’s there for everyone to embrace—that kind of unconditional love for all of humankind. That is the kind of love that impels people to go into the community and try to change conditions for others, to take risks for what they believe in.” 

THURSDAY APRIL 3 — Every morning, an elderly woman traveled down to the river to get water for drinking, cooking, and cleaning. She carried two large buckets, filled them with water, and headed back to her isolated cottage. The two buckets were attached to a long pole, balanced over her shoulders.
One of the buckets was brand new and easily held water.
The other bucket was old and damaged, with a crack that leaked as the elderly lady walked. When she got home, nearly one-half of the water from the damaged bucket had emptied through the crack.
For two full years, the woman went to the stream with two buckets, and for two years, she would arrive back home with one and a half buckets of water.
Of course, the perfect bucket was proud of its accomplishments. The damaged bucket, however, was ashamed of its imperfection, and downhearted that it could only do half of what it had been created to do.
So, after two years of what the cracked bucket perceived to be an unmistakable failure, the bucket spoke to the woman one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself,” the bucket said. “Because this crack in my side causes water to leak. And it leaks all the way back to your house. I’m really sorry for being cracked and complicating your life. I am embarrassed because you work so hard, so if you need to replace me with a better bucket, I understand.”
The elderly woman smiled, and asked the bucket, “Do you honestly think I haven’t known about your crack this whole time?” And then she said, “On our walk home today, I would like you to look at all of the lovely flowers that bloom along the one side of the path from the river to my cottage. I always known about your crack, and purposely planted seeds on your side of the path, so that each time we walked home, the seeds would be watered. Without the crack in your side, we would not have these beautiful flowers.”
(An adaptation of an ancient Buddhist Story)

Yes, this story does my heart good. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of, or trying to hide, my cracks and damages. Which is another way of shutting down. And this is a story about scotoma, or selective blindness. In other words, we see only what we want to see. And when we’re wired to keep score, we see every crack only as a flaw or defect, and we miss the exquisite gifts cultivated by spilled water.
“You are a light. You are the light,” John Lewis wrote. “Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light.”
We are, every one of us, cracked or damaged. Borrowing from Leonard Cohen’s song, “There Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
And undeniably, how the light gets out…
So yes: spilling water—giving gifts of yourself, your heart and your spirit—makes a difference, creates beauty and makes a profound difference in a world that needs nourishment and sustenance. 

FRIDAY APRIL 4 — Have you seen the documentary, War Dance?  I recommend it.

The film centers on three children (Rose, a 13-year-old singer; Nancy, a 14-year-old dancer; and Dominic, a 14-year-old xylophone player). They are members of the Acholi ethnic group, living in the remote northern Uganda refugee camp under military protection from the Lord’s Resistance Army, a group that has been rebelling against the government for the past two decades.
In 2005, the camp’s primary school won its regional music competition and headed to Kampala to participate in the annual National Music Competition which included performing the Bwola, the dance of the Acholi. Over the course of three months, the film’s creative team observes the three youngsters as they prepare for the event and gain their confidence enough to have them discuss the horrors they have experienced and express their individual fears, hopes, and dreams. 
Nancy says, “When I dance my problems vanish. The camp is gone. I can feel the wind. I can feel the fresh air, I am free and I can feel my home. I feel proud to be an Acholi when I dance. You have to be fearless, like a warrior. In my heart, I am more than a child of war. I am talented. I am a musician. I am Acholi.”

In a world heavy and uncertain, more than ever, dance and music are an essential part of our immune system for a healthy heart and soul and spirit. For hopes and dreams. They create a space for engagement, or more precisely, reengagement. I do know that I can let down my guard, my armor, which helps me (allows me) to remember and embrace a tender heart, and the capacity to embrace connection, empathy and compassion. All of which is alive and well inside. These are gifts that we have forgotten, or gifts that are too easily buried.
John Lewis’ reminder, “You are a light. You are the light. Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light.”

Let’s give St. Catherine of Siena the last word; and take it to heart…
I won’t take no for an answer,
God began to say
to me
when He opened His arms each night
wanting us to
dance.

Prayer for our week…
Prayer for Justice
Grant us, Lord God, a vision of your world
as your love would have it:
a world where the weak are protected,
and none go hungry or poor;
a world where the riches of creation are shared,
and everyone can enjoy them;
a world where different races and cultures
live in harmony and mutual respect;
a world where peace is built with justice,
and justice is guided by love.
Give us the inspiration and courage to build it,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Author Unknown

Photo… “Hi Terry, Photos from my recent visit to the California coast. For the past six and a half years, Connecticut has been home and there is something wonderful about living close to my daughters and the grandchildren. Still… the California coast feeds my soul like no other place on the planet! Peace and calm and a vision of hope to you–to all of us! Thank you for your words about self-care! We grow and thrive when we stop the scroll, turn off the noise and turn on Nature! The quiet of God’s gifts is a symphony to our well being. Blessings,” Sheila Flanagan… Thank you Sheila… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com