Daily Dose (Oct 29 – Nov 1)

TUESDAY OCT 29 —

This week we remember the little girl who gave her father a gift, which he assumed was an empty box. And remembering her words, looking up at her father, with tears on her face, “But Daddy, it wasn’t empty when I wrapped it. I promise. I filled it full of kisses. And they were all for you when you needed them.”
This week if we receive an “empty box”—Let us pause. Be open. Listen. Live into the moment. And receive the gift. And savor the kisses.
And, then, let us share them with those around us who need them.

Here’s what I do know: when we are wired to see only the emptiness (the scarcity), to see only what is lacking or missing, we completely miss the gifts. We miss the joy, the wonder, the offerings, the delight. We miss the sufficiency.
Using Lynne Twist’s words, “Sufficiency isn’t two steps up from poverty or one step short of abundance. It isn’t a measure of barely enough or more than enough. Sufficiency isn’t an amount at all. It is an experience, a context we generate, a declaration, a knowing that there is enough, and that we are enough.”

I loved this reminder from Mj Blossoms, that the gift of sufficiency is found in the little stuff, “Maybe the real happy ending is falling in love with the simplest parts of life. It’s savoring that first sip of coffee in the morning, or losing yourself in the smell of freshly baked bread. It’s driving down familiar roads with the windows down, letting the air mess up your hair while your favorite song fills the car. It’s lingering on a quiet afternoon, reading the pages of a book you’ve put off for too long, letting each word wrap around you like an old friend. These moments — the ones that seem so ordinary — hold a kind of magic that fills the cracks we sometimes forget are there.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s finding a piece of joy in small things we often take for granted. Like the laughter that comes out of nowhere, shared with a stranger in a grocery store aisle. Or the comfort of a cozy night at home, wrapped up in a blanket, watching a show you’ve seen a hundred times but still brings a smile to your face.
It’s these little things that pull us back to life, that remind us of just how blessed we are, not because everything is perfect but because we find beauty in what we already have.” (Writer’s Blossoms)

WEDNESDAY OCT 30 —

“Be the church. Protect the environment. Care for the poor. Forgive often. Reject racism. Fight for the powerless. Share earthly and spiritual resources. Embrace diversity. Love God. Enjoy this life.”
I saw this meme posted online, and I smiled big.

And then read a few of the comments. “But that’s not the church today.” “The church is missing the message.” “I wouldn’t say be the church because they’re not doing a good job today.” “This is the opposite of what is happening.”
Okay, I wasn’t ready for that. And yes, this kinda undid me.
You’ll get no arguments from me about too many of us not reflecting the light very well.
However, just because that is true, please let us not allow it to derail us.
Such comments (perspective) see only what is missing. Only the scarcity.
We see only the “empty boxes”. And allow scarcity to determine what we choose to do.

Jesus said, “Love one another.”  Jesus said, “Love your enemy.”
And we could say, “that sounds good, but we’re not doing a very good job.”
Maybe not. But guess what? The invitation is still there. And not just the invitation, the affirmation that the love—kindness, empathy, compassion—is alive and well and inside of every one of us… and ready to be shared and spilled to the world around us. Maybe not the big world, but the small world, to the people we see, and touch, and greet, and listen to.
And I’m here today, literally, because there are people who did not give in to the scarcity mentality. They continued to give and love and care, even when the box looked “empty”… because they knew the light was still there.
We do indeed walk one another home. And today, we need to remember that more than ever.

“‘Why did you do all this for me?’ Wilbur asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’
‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die… By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.’”
Charlotte’s Web, by Elwyn Brooks, “E.B.” White

THURSDAY OCT 31 —

Like the little girl in our story knew, empty boxes may be full of kisses. And we see them, and embrace them, when we pause and pay attention.

So. Our invitation: Sometime today, take delight. It sounds so simple. And yet, we find any number of ways to rob delight of its essential joy.
I love that my morning walk allows me the gift to pause, and savor the exquisite beauty and wonder in the diminutive. I love my morning walks… dew drops on the red berries of a deciduous huckleberry growing out of a century old tree stump. A tree frog, making me smile big. And the way the morning sunrise dances through the branches of the western Red Cedar trees.
Box of kisses indeed.
Jennifer Gayle’s reminder, “When you look at life through eyes of gratitude, the world becomes a magical and amazing place.”
And I love to cook. The tastes, scents, a glass of wine, with music and conversation, the camaraderie. (But taking delight isn’t a given. Recently, I saw an advertisement for the magic bullet, which promises to make the fastest omelet ever, in 10 seconds or less. So now, cooking has changed, from a delight, to a race. And this is beneficial… why?)
“In Hebrew the opposite of holy is chol, which is translated not as ‘profane’ but as ’empty’; in other words, ‘not yet filled.'” writes Irwin Kula. “The word for holy in Hebrew is kedusha. A more accurate translation of kedusha is ‘life intensity.’  To be holy is to be intensely dynamic, ever-changing, and ever-realizing. The Biblical command ‘You Shall Be Holy’ is an invitation to celebrate what philosopher Mark Taylor calls ‘a maze of grace that is the world.’ Live as richly and passionately as possible; that’s as close to meaning as you will get.”

Okay, invitation number two: Share your delight (the box of kisses) with someone else.
The freedom to stop, and say, to anyone around, “Wow. Did you see that?”
True, to experience delight is a risk. And to share it with someone is also a risk. But when we do so, we are affirming that there is indeed another way. In this life, we can risk loving. We can risk living less than tidy lives. We can risk asking for less than perfection from others (and ourselves).
In a glance. In a word. In a touch. Yes, in a gesture, there is healing and kindness and hope… and the permission to dance is offered. We cannot change the pain in our lives or the lives of others. However, we can (and must) accompany each other, and along the way, looking for kisses.

FRIDAY NOV 1 —

When we are open. And listen. And Live into the moment, we receive the gifts of joy, wonder and delight.
Do you know this story, about a young boy who blurted out ‘Wow!’ after a concert and captured the world’s hearts?

In 2019, a young child broke the silence at the end of a concert with an awe-stricken ‘Wow!’. Now, he’s the star of a children’s book. There’s nothing quite like a child’s unbridled reaction to beautiful music.
At a now-viral classical concert five years in Boston, the Handel and Haydn Society had just finished a spectacular performance of Mozart’s Masonic Funeral Music.
Conducted by Harry Christophers, the H+H society is one of the oldest American performing arts groups.
After a brief moment of silence, a child in the audience exclaimed, ‘Wow!’.
The awe in his voice made the whole audience and ensemble erupt into laughter and applause, with the orchestra’s CEO David Snead describing it as “one of the most wonderful moments I’ve experienced in the concert hall”.
After the concert at Boston’s Symphony Hall, the orchestra began looking for the child.

The boy’s grandfather, Stephen Mattin, got in touch and revealed that nine-year-old Ronan is a huge music fan who is “obsessed with musical instruments”.
Mattin, who took his grandson to the concert, said he ”talked about nothing else for weeks.”
Ronan didn’t mean to be disruptive, he told WGBH, explaining that his grandson is on the autism spectrum, and expresses himself in a different way to other people.
But, Mattin added, it’s a rare occurrence that Ronan vocalizes his feelings.
“I can count on one hand the number of times that [he’s] spontaneously ever come out with some expression of how he’s feeling,” Mattin said.
Mattin got in touch with the orchestra after his sister-in-law saw on television that the Handel and Haydn Society was looking for the ‘wow kid’. The Society later invited the family, who lives in Kensington, New Hampshire, to meet the artistic director.
After the clip was posted on Twitter by Boston radio station WCRB, people started sharing their reactions.
Marco A. Torres-H wrote on Twitter: “I was there and was an extraordinary moment. The kid’s “Wow” was the best recognition for Mozart’s music and this wonderful orchestra.”
MaryBeth Smith added: “As a life-long music educator, This. Is. Everything. Beautiful child, may you continue to feel awe, wonder, and love throughout your life as you did in this moment!”
Mattin said he wasn’t expecting his grandson’s exclamation, but was glad the orchestra and audience were touched by it.
“You know, everybody’s different. Everybody has different ways of expressing themselves,” he said. “I think people in general, society’s becoming more tolerant or understanding of the differences between people.”
The ‘wow’, which was fortunately captured as the concert was recorded for broadcast, went viral. Among those who heard it was poet and author Todd Boss, who went on to write a children’s book inspired by the moment.
The Boy Who Said Wow, a testament to the power of the arts, is the story of a quiet child born into a noisy world, who doesn’t speak much – but when he does, it resonates for years to come.
(Thank you to Maddy Shaw Roberts, Orchestra seeks boy who exclaimed ‘Wow’ after performance of Mozart, 29 July 2024)

Prayer for our week…
In this broken world where hope is often tentative,
and courage is too easily vanquished by fear,
we give thanks that a holy presence has invaded our life.
As autumn leaves lose their luster,
and as a lengthening night draws near,
we are grateful that the light that has come into the world
is even now establishing in us a beachhead for kindness,
touching whatever we know of sorrow.
And we ask that that presence, that caress,
embolden us to be gracious to all whose lives we touch.
And may we know joy. Alleluia.
Martin Townsend

Photo… “Hi Terry, Sunrise and Moonset. What a delightful surprise! Beauty is everywhere and often in the unexpected, like a trip to take out the garbage!” Lynn Lankford… Thank you Lynn… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com