Daily Dose (October 13 – 16)
TUESDAY OCTOBER 13 —
Two men visiting Hong Kong, noticed the ubiquity of street vendors, all pushing their carts along, pell-mell, in and out of traffic. Attempting to gain the attention of any potential customer, the vendors would shout repeatedly, “Sale! Sale! Good items for sale!”
So numerous were these vendors that the men found it difficult to avoid their aggressive sales pitches. It was then that they noticed a lone vendor, different from the others. This man stayed to himself, and slowly and quietly pushed his cart along the sidewalk. Intrigued, they stopped the vendor to ask him about his wares, “What are you selling?”
“Selling?” the vendor responded, “Oh, I’m not selling anything.” With that, he reached into his cart and picked up two pieces of a toy that had been broken. “You see, I buy broken things. My joy comes in mending. Once, mended, it can be given away, and bring more joy.”
This story does my heart good. Because there is a part of me that feels broken. And mending, well, that sounds very good to me. But I believe, in my mind (if I’m honest), that I am exchanging the word mending with the word, fixing. Somehow, I’ve persuaded myself that broken is a deficiency.
So. Let’s begin here: Some of us… no, all of us… break.
Maybe from stress or fatigue of spirit. Or from loss of childlikeness or grief. Or from loss of passion. Or from a world where cruelty and violence is too real.
Yes. Life is difficult.
And no matter how strong or safeguarded, very bad things can happen to good and innocent people. And sometimes I don’t have the words. Even for my prayers.
Here’s what I know: We live in a world where, more than ever, it is easy to lose our way—yes, to lose track of our heart. To feel derailed, disenfranchised, exasperated.
Or, just plain lost.
Bottom line, we are not at home.
And on those days, I wish I was made of stronger stuff. I don’t want to admit it, as it feels like a defect to be concealed.
Okay, I’ll personalize this; when I let the cacophony or noise win, I am not at home.
When either fear, or shame, win, I am not at home.
When I give way to any narrative of small-mindedness (where labels or differences are weaponized), I am not at home.
When I stay mute in the face of intolerance or contempt, I am not at home.
And we want someone to show us the way, or at least, the GPS coordinates.
Let us embrace Henri Nouwen’s invitation. “It means a gradual process of coming home to where we belong and listening there to the voice, which desires our attention. Home is the place where that first love dwells and speaks gently to us.”
Today, let us embrace the wisdom of the little girl in yesterday’s Sabbath Moment story. She knew that “home” is not what we own, home is who we are.
Here’s the deal: I have a choice. Brokenness can undo me. Or I can see an invitation to a bigger self, creating spaces for healing and spiritual hydration and renewal.
This is why I have always resonated with the Gospel story of the Good Samaritan. A man is laying in a ditch, having been beaten and left to die. Two pious men pass by, a priest and a Levite, seeing the man, but they continue to walk, without stopping.
The Samaritan stops. Why? Because he knew what it was like to be wounded too.
“He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.” (Gospel of Luke)
You see, once we are open…
…to giving up our expectations and demands,
…to having our stereotypes contradicted,
…to embracing our brokenness,
…we find “There is a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter.” (Mother Teresa)
When we see with our heart, we are grounded. We are conscious—present—no longer numbed. And tender hearts create sanctuaries for those left out. So, if ever there was a time for tender hearted, courageous men and women to step forward, it is now.
I like Thomas Merton’s take, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love.”
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 14 —
Prayer (poem) for our week…
After the good earth
where the body knows itself to be real
and the mad flight
where it gives itself to the world,
we give ourselves to the rhythm of love
leaving the breath
to know its way home.
And after the first pure fall,
the last letting go, and the calm
breath where we go to rest,
we’ll return again to find it
and feel again the body welcomed,
the body held,
the strong arms of the world,
the water, the waking at dawn
and the thankful, almost forgotten,
curling to sleep with the dark.
The old wild place beyond all shame.
David Whyte
Photo… “Hi Terry, The unbearable heat in San Diego this past week brought beautiful sunsets as well, as seen from my backyard. Enjoy your weekend!” Kathy Frost (San Diego, CA)… Thank you Kathy… And thank you all for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
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