Daily Dose (March 31 – April 3)

TUESDAY MARCH 31 — The Sunday-school teacher asked her 10-year-old students if they would be willing to give $1,000,000 to missionary work for children and families in need.
“Yes,” they all screamed in unison.
“Very good. Would you give $1000?”
“Yes!”
“Good.  Would you give $1?”
The class responded, “Yes,” except for one young boy, who sat silent.
“Why didn’t you say yes?” the teacher asked.
“Because,” he stammered, “I have a dollar in my pocket.”
Okay, that’s honest.
Napoleon reminded us, “Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to choose.” And because of that, freedom always works better in speeches, than it does in practice. Because if I choose—to commit, to invest, to give—I offer my heart freely. I’m all in.
I offer this little light of mine.
However, I can sure relate to the little guy. I’m good with answers and debate prep about what I would do with the million. But when you’ve got “a dollar in your pocket,” there’s a parting of the ways in what we “believe” and how we live. Of course, I am still “free” to contribute, give, care for, risk, go out on a limb, let go, to live unshackled. But with my hand over the dollar in my pocket, I am stuck. And we all know the litany here (any of the reasons we find it difficult to remove our hand, any of the reasons that keep us stuck—fear and worry about what “they” think, fear of failure, shame from feeling not enough, need for perfection, the tyranny of “should,” need for certainty. (And by the way, did it ever occur to you that we’ve never actually met “them,” but they still control our lives? Go figure.)

If I’m honest, it boils down to this: For whatever reason, I too easily live afraid.
If I open my heart to care, I risk vulnerability.
If I speak out for compassion and justice for the least of these, it is considered too “political”.
To give without regard for reward, is to risk misunderstanding.
To expose feelings (openness and vulnerability), is to risk exposing your true self.
To love, is to risk not being loved in return.
To hope, is to risk despair.
I’ll cut to the chase. When I am afraid, I react (allow the narrative of my life and world to be owned by the shouting and anger, where labels rule), or I shut down (Lord knows I don’t need the drama and headache).
Reporters were fussing over a woman celebrating her 104th birthday. “And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?” one reporter asked.
She simply replied, “No peer pressure.”
Now we’re talking…
My mind goes to the image of Michelangelo’s statues. He started many more stone statues than he finished. I believe that he completed fourteen. And what of the others (also creations of extraordinary genius)? As far as I know, they remain locked inside of the blocks of marble. I needed the story of the young boy, to invite me to live unstuck. But how?
I am certain that there are programs, with, no doubt, apps for your iPhone: Basic Unstuck and Unstuck Pro.
But freedom (“unstuckness”) is not about adding one more thing to our life.
Freedom is about embracing the gift of grace—in the words of Seamus Henry, “like well water far down”—that already abounds. Inside of us.

This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.
And here’s the good news; every single one of us have been endowed and equipped to be a light in a dark world.
The light is alive and well, for every single one of use. No exclusions. Yes, including the poor, the powerless, the desperate, the outsiders, the forsaken, and the forgotten.
Too good to be true? I can relate.
And I settle for less. Because, “That can’t be me,” I tell myself. I confess that I don’t always see the light in myself.
So. Where do I begin? The advice of a mentor, “Do what’s in your heart.”

WEDNESDAY APRIL 1 — ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Prayer (poem) for our week…
My body, my blood
On the eve of a boldly political action,
an act of nonviolent resistance,
in a boldly political religious ceremony,
the Passover celebration of liberation,
a family meal and a public act
that defy power structures,
intensely political—
Jesus does something profoundly personal:
he offers himself.
He doesn’t say “This is my rallying cry!”
or “This is my belief.”
He says, “This is my body and my blood.”
In the place of honor, dipping bread together,
he welcomes the one who will betray him.
Because only something this personal
will overcome the world.
Only love, and nothing outside the human heart,
will defeat evil.
Our political actions require personal presence.
Our personal acts have political power.
Our salvation is not ransom paid
but presence offered.
Steve Garnaas-Holmes

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Photo… Saturday afternoon, my son Zach and I visited the Quad on the campus of the University of Washington, where we took immense delight in the blossoming signature Yoshino cherry trees. The trees are about 90 years old, and were originally set in a grove at the Washington Park Arboretum. I loved this little blossom… And thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com

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