INSPIRATION : "a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation"
I found inspiration today in a household plant. While that expresses a comical notion, that fact I can even possess 'living' household plants is comical in it's own right. I was once a gal with a black thumb. Moving to Manhattan, a city void of nature outside of Central Park, develops the horticulturalist in anybody...even me.
I have a lovely small potted palm. Ok, so yes, I picked about the easiest of varieties to maintain. But I tend to them and love them, especially now as I overlook nothing but the concrete of the city below. Yet what's more, is that somehow in my care my little plant sprouted two young offspring. Like a proud Momma, I've watched them from their very first sprouting. One seemed to jut out from the soil in a bit of a hurry of it's own, as if it suddenly just one day it appeared out of nowhere. The other appeared to be a weakly stunted seedling that barely punctuated the dirt. It reached up and through with the smallest leaf. I thought for sure it wouldn't survive. Nonetheless, I watered them, spoke to them...even kissed them from time to time. In our family, there are no children yet except for these two small seedlings struggling to survive their youth.
I've watched for many months as they grew each at their own pace. The smaller one, seemed to creep up and up but not without succumbing to the weight of the soil pressing down into it. I feared it could not bear the challenge, but it's once weak looking leaves now surprise me with each passing day. They have slowly grown stronger, greener.
Meanwhile the other that was so eager to enter the world and stand tall seemed to be growing weaker. It's stalk underdeveloped and thin. It's leaves wilting no matter how diligently I watered and fed it. It grew tall no doubt, but now could barely support it's own weight.
Today I looked to find it nearly fallen over. It's leaves, even those recently sprouted cracked and laid lifeless. My little underling, the one I thought for certain would surely die within weeks of it's peering through the surface was vibrantly green and beginning to flourish.
I found it heartbreaking and immediately began to dig up my dying seedling. While doing so I realized how shallow it had been planted. As I carefully removed it, I saw that some of it's roots were exposed to air and damaged. Despite it's rapid first growth, full of promise and fervor, it was now was falling incredibly short. It had always been too close to the surface. It did not have to struggle to break through like it's sibling. It's roots were not safely buried, leaving it vulnerable. It's stem remained juvenile and void of sound structure. Eventually without the need to grow strong in order to survive from the very start, it was unprepared to bear it's own weight.
In hopes of second chances, I've buried it's fragile roots and stem deeper into the ground. Only time will tell how it may weather it's new existence. My hope is that it is reversible as only death comes with permanence. In the meantime, I pull inspiration from little sprouted palm, who worked so hard to grow despite a mound of dirt and weight that surrounded it. It defied even my expectations.
In life, many will grow sullen in despair when they feel burdened by disappointments, by setbacks and obstacles. I, myself, sometimes wonder why certain journeys can be shrouded in more unforeseen difficulties than others. Some may have even weathered storms that I, thankfully, have never even known myself. All of our struggles are unique, but none are less valid then any others. Then one day you go through your normal routine to simply water a plant and you realize God speaks to you in all the ways he can. Sometimes it comes in unexpected moments, that can seem rather silly... but in reality become profoundly impacting and incredibly loud.
I'm thankful for those moments.
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Can't We Just All Get Along?
I feel like it was way back in the mid-90's that the slogan 'Can't we all just get along' became hot topic for laminated pins and bumper stickers. Sadly though, I am reminded daily that somehow, the message never stuck.
For the past few days I've been thinking about an incident that occurred on an ordinary day in the city. I've been meaning to write about it, but of course became momentarily distracted by work and other obligations. That is until today when a gentleman blurted out, as he nearly ran into me on the sidewalk, "Get the f---- out of my way". Yep, yeah, that's New York City for you. I was jolted back to my memory of the other day and my need to write about it.
I happend to go into a CVS Pharmacy Drugstore. It was 5 o'clock on a Monday night. The usually post work crowd filled the place, which is generally already understaffed for even non-peak hours. I approached the check out and discerned two lines that had formed. One was for self checkout at the various kiosks and the other was for the cashier desk. As I continued to wait, I noticed a woman standing nearby jumped the line (knowingly or perhaps unknowingly) and proceeded to the checkout cashier. Immediately the rightful next customer approached her and in my opinion rather politely, as far as New Yorkers are concerned, pointed out that there was in fact a long line of customers already waiting. The line jumper neither acknowledge the woman nor said "I'm sorry, my mistake". The latter leads me to believe that she knew and simply did not care that there was a line.
To my disappointment the employee that had witnessed this, did nothing to correct the situation or point out to the customer that she skipped ahead of the existing line. To make matters worse and escalate to a place that is neither necessary nor warranted- not to mention easily corrected if the employee had not played 'indifferent', another gentleman jump in and quickly began yelling. Ironically, he did not yell at the woman who had obviously jumped ahead, but rather to the woman that had spoken up and said something. He began antagonizing her, spouted 'what makes you so self righteous? There's no sign that says that there's one line'. Like most New Yorkers she chose to not engage or respond to his slurs. She was an older woman and perhaps after years of living in the city you either grow tolerant or simply lose the energy to fights these types of daily battles. He called her rude and his putrid anger seemed to be even more fueled by her ambivalence. As I watched, I was astonished that neither the employee or store manager, that stood only a few feet away, would allow such an outburst to occur. I couldn't help myself but to point out to the cashier, stating 'You should really say something here'. She of course gave me a growled look that said 'Don't tell me what to do'. Everyone grew increasingly uncomfortable as his rant continued well beyond needed. Finally, after biting my tongue for long enough... I chimed in. In the most delicate, non emotional way I could, I agreed that yes, while there was not a sign that spelled out 'one line' one line seemed to have formed on an honor system- first come, first serve. I also pointed out the fact, verbally, that it is up to the employees to instruct customers as to how they are handling the crowds and serving them fairly. His immediate response was 'one line is how they bring cows to the slaughter' after which he began repeating himself again about there being no sign. However it did seem as though, the moment I mentioned the 'honor system' he wasn't sure how to respond to that. All he could say loudly was, 'I hear you'. After which point, he himself jumped ahead to that very same cashier, and again in front of everyone already waiting in line, to check out.
I was happy that I spoke up, but also really troubled that the state of our world has grown so impatient, so intolerant, so self-entitled. I don't recall there being this much anger in LA. Perhaps the sunny weather and tepid climate makes people a little calmer. There are 1.8 million people, according to census bureau, living on the island of Manhattan. That's a lot of friggin' people in a small congested area. Everyday is operated at a breakneck pace, bumping into people, running around, trying to survive in a city that's over populated and overpriced.
I have hope for New York and it's residents. They always say 'be the change you want to see happen'. It's so easy to fall into that routine, where you keep your head down, worry only about yourself and those immediately around you in your life and become indifferent to everything and everyone else. Life is tough, especially during these times. Many are struggling in all forms, so I'm not surprise the temperament has changed a bit. Even, I myself, have days where I find myself utterly impatient with slow moving tourists or waiting a little longer than usual for the train.
It is moments like those in CVS or today on a busy city street that remind me that we MUST always try to be courteous to one another. Be THOUGHTFUL, PATIENT. KIND. There's a whole Psalm in the bible about that. Love isn't only for husbands or wives or families...it has to be for every single one of us which is not always an easy task. Living in New York, has been an eye opening sociological experiment. I feel as though it's a microcosm of the world, which is both fascinating and scary all at the same time. My goal is to smile at as many people as I can and watch how many odd glances I get back.... Oh, yeah, New Yorkers, avoid eye contact and smiling at them is like walking around in an alien costume. You should try it sometime...it's rather entertaining.
For the past few days I've been thinking about an incident that occurred on an ordinary day in the city. I've been meaning to write about it, but of course became momentarily distracted by work and other obligations. That is until today when a gentleman blurted out, as he nearly ran into me on the sidewalk, "Get the f---- out of my way". Yep, yeah, that's New York City for you. I was jolted back to my memory of the other day and my need to write about it.
I happend to go into a CVS Pharmacy Drugstore. It was 5 o'clock on a Monday night. The usually post work crowd filled the place, which is generally already understaffed for even non-peak hours. I approached the check out and discerned two lines that had formed. One was for self checkout at the various kiosks and the other was for the cashier desk. As I continued to wait, I noticed a woman standing nearby jumped the line (knowingly or perhaps unknowingly) and proceeded to the checkout cashier. Immediately the rightful next customer approached her and in my opinion rather politely, as far as New Yorkers are concerned, pointed out that there was in fact a long line of customers already waiting. The line jumper neither acknowledge the woman nor said "I'm sorry, my mistake". The latter leads me to believe that she knew and simply did not care that there was a line.
To my disappointment the employee that had witnessed this, did nothing to correct the situation or point out to the customer that she skipped ahead of the existing line. To make matters worse and escalate to a place that is neither necessary nor warranted- not to mention easily corrected if the employee had not played 'indifferent', another gentleman jump in and quickly began yelling. Ironically, he did not yell at the woman who had obviously jumped ahead, but rather to the woman that had spoken up and said something. He began antagonizing her, spouted 'what makes you so self righteous? There's no sign that says that there's one line'. Like most New Yorkers she chose to not engage or respond to his slurs. She was an older woman and perhaps after years of living in the city you either grow tolerant or simply lose the energy to fights these types of daily battles. He called her rude and his putrid anger seemed to be even more fueled by her ambivalence. As I watched, I was astonished that neither the employee or store manager, that stood only a few feet away, would allow such an outburst to occur. I couldn't help myself but to point out to the cashier, stating 'You should really say something here'. She of course gave me a growled look that said 'Don't tell me what to do'. Everyone grew increasingly uncomfortable as his rant continued well beyond needed. Finally, after biting my tongue for long enough... I chimed in. In the most delicate, non emotional way I could, I agreed that yes, while there was not a sign that spelled out 'one line' one line seemed to have formed on an honor system- first come, first serve. I also pointed out the fact, verbally, that it is up to the employees to instruct customers as to how they are handling the crowds and serving them fairly. His immediate response was 'one line is how they bring cows to the slaughter' after which he began repeating himself again about there being no sign. However it did seem as though, the moment I mentioned the 'honor system' he wasn't sure how to respond to that. All he could say loudly was, 'I hear you'. After which point, he himself jumped ahead to that very same cashier, and again in front of everyone already waiting in line, to check out.
I was happy that I spoke up, but also really troubled that the state of our world has grown so impatient, so intolerant, so self-entitled. I don't recall there being this much anger in LA. Perhaps the sunny weather and tepid climate makes people a little calmer. There are 1.8 million people, according to census bureau, living on the island of Manhattan. That's a lot of friggin' people in a small congested area. Everyday is operated at a breakneck pace, bumping into people, running around, trying to survive in a city that's over populated and overpriced.
I have hope for New York and it's residents. They always say 'be the change you want to see happen'. It's so easy to fall into that routine, where you keep your head down, worry only about yourself and those immediately around you in your life and become indifferent to everything and everyone else. Life is tough, especially during these times. Many are struggling in all forms, so I'm not surprise the temperament has changed a bit. Even, I myself, have days where I find myself utterly impatient with slow moving tourists or waiting a little longer than usual for the train.
It is moments like those in CVS or today on a busy city street that remind me that we MUST always try to be courteous to one another. Be THOUGHTFUL, PATIENT. KIND. There's a whole Psalm in the bible about that. Love isn't only for husbands or wives or families...it has to be for every single one of us which is not always an easy task. Living in New York, has been an eye opening sociological experiment. I feel as though it's a microcosm of the world, which is both fascinating and scary all at the same time. My goal is to smile at as many people as I can and watch how many odd glances I get back.... Oh, yeah, New Yorkers, avoid eye contact and smiling at them is like walking around in an alien costume. You should try it sometime...it's rather entertaining.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Face of the Holy Spirit Around Us.
Today is Ash Wednesday. Perhaps you've begun to notice passerby's with what seems to be black markings above their brow. I would imagine in this modern day, most would quickly recognize the pattern and the source. In New York, there was a slight delay funny enough. The morning was like any other. People hustling by, filling the coffee shops and trains. As the morning turned into afternoon, I found more and more proudly displaying their signs of faith. The courage of the first to receive ashes, instilling confidence within the flock. The hours passed and the number grew exponentially. Religion for many, I suppose, can carry a shameful stigma and awkward fear of being misinterpreted. At least in this Metropolitan city. How often is religion used to divide and define us? Stereotypes of extremists used to represent the whole, inevitably misconstruing the message. As a result, sadly our world grows more and more politically correct, taking "God" out of our vernacular. I've grown to be in favor of possibly offending, than take the risk of 'hiding' my beliefs.
Although even for someone like myself, so rooted in own sense of religion, I've struggled with finding my faith between the grid of concrete these past two years. Perhaps it is the energy of city, the relentless pace that challenges ones serenity. Quiet moments rarely come, if at all. There's a constant flow of foot traffic, honking of cabs enforcing their right of way, cell phone interruptions and the general determination to survive another day in this pressure cooker. It is in those brief times, when I remember to look up, that I take in the clouds, the heavens, God. Peeking through the slivers of blue sky amongst the concrete giants, I feel the hand reaching. There is forever a tendency toward disconnect, that is so easy to fall prey to here. The summer brings leisurely days in Central Park, which finely tunes that chord between here and above. However the winter, I'm afraid, reminds me just how easily it can be severed if you aren't paying attention.
It was reaffirming to watch the comings and goings of my neighborhood church. Amongst a sea of people, you forget just how many share in your faith. In a time of hardships and economic despair, it is comforting to see so many believers lifting their eyes. Most days, I would never know, until speaking with them about God. And how often does that happen? In a city of millions there is an unfortunate byproduct of feeling oddly alone. As I sat in church, praying for those in my life, I felt the power of people uniting. I felt the calling of their hearts, whether old or new believers. I felt their needs, as much as my own.
No matter how grounded each of us may be, to our beliefs of that which exists above, I think it's a beautiful thing that so many boldly proclaim their love of God today. I am a Christian through and through. While I am taught that only through Jesus are we saved, I truly believe in my heart that God speaks to each of us in our own language. He loves us completely and will lead us, if we are open to follow. I believe with all my heart in Jesus, his teachings, his suffering and from that, our forgiveness of sins. It is the path I was led to, many many years ago. I also believe that only in death, perhaps, will we ever know the answers to all the questions we may have in this world.
In this life we are given our challenges, our joys, our humility, our intellect, our yearning for knowledge, our curiosity and our inner spirit that will forever open our eyes if we allow it.
Although even for someone like myself, so rooted in own sense of religion, I've struggled with finding my faith between the grid of concrete these past two years. Perhaps it is the energy of city, the relentless pace that challenges ones serenity. Quiet moments rarely come, if at all. There's a constant flow of foot traffic, honking of cabs enforcing their right of way, cell phone interruptions and the general determination to survive another day in this pressure cooker. It is in those brief times, when I remember to look up, that I take in the clouds, the heavens, God. Peeking through the slivers of blue sky amongst the concrete giants, I feel the hand reaching. There is forever a tendency toward disconnect, that is so easy to fall prey to here. The summer brings leisurely days in Central Park, which finely tunes that chord between here and above. However the winter, I'm afraid, reminds me just how easily it can be severed if you aren't paying attention.
It was reaffirming to watch the comings and goings of my neighborhood church. Amongst a sea of people, you forget just how many share in your faith. In a time of hardships and economic despair, it is comforting to see so many believers lifting their eyes. Most days, I would never know, until speaking with them about God. And how often does that happen? In a city of millions there is an unfortunate byproduct of feeling oddly alone. As I sat in church, praying for those in my life, I felt the power of people uniting. I felt the calling of their hearts, whether old or new believers. I felt their needs, as much as my own.
No matter how grounded each of us may be, to our beliefs of that which exists above, I think it's a beautiful thing that so many boldly proclaim their love of God today. I am a Christian through and through. While I am taught that only through Jesus are we saved, I truly believe in my heart that God speaks to each of us in our own language. He loves us completely and will lead us, if we are open to follow. I believe with all my heart in Jesus, his teachings, his suffering and from that, our forgiveness of sins. It is the path I was led to, many many years ago. I also believe that only in death, perhaps, will we ever know the answers to all the questions we may have in this world.
In this life we are given our challenges, our joys, our humility, our intellect, our yearning for knowledge, our curiosity and our inner spirit that will forever open our eyes if we allow it.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Can Christians Remember to Love like Jesus?
After walking home from completing some errands I decided to pop into the church next door to my home. There is something about sitting in the quiet of a still church and praying that reminds me to stay connected to my faith. This morning something a little more unusual happened.
I had settled myself towards the back pew and began praying when I started to hear the sounds of rather loud chatter. At first it was indistinguishable but my thoughts immediately went to judgment. In my own inner monologue, I said to myself, "I can't believe people are talking so loudly in church...It's like a library", there's certain etiquette one maintains and an expectation of behavior in a place of worship. Eventually the talking got louder as the two gentleman began to approach behind me. It was at this point that I was able to put the hints of conversation together. I realized that the small group I had passed on my way in, were actually patients visiting from a rehab facility. Perhaps this was a requirement of their treatment or a transition out of the facility. I wasn't quite sure, but I began to listen all the while feeling shameful in some ways. Not only was I've eavesdropping, which is rude, but I also began having guilt about being so judgmental at first. These men struggled daily with their inner demons. Drugs and alcohol had become their salvation and now they were being brought into the fold of real saving grace. It was apparent that they struggled with this course of treatment, perhaps were even slightly resistant. They spoke of a female counselor whom they loved, as much as they may have loathed. She seemed to be successful in opening them up. Poetically enough they remained open as they continued to talk amongst their peers rather noticeably, within the walls of this otherwise peaceful cathedral.
Their conversation, though brief, inspired a realization that Jesus' love knows no bounds. Unlike humans who, at times, bombard, command and then persecute, God found a simple gentle way of showing his love. This group of men, had indeed been brought there not by choice, but the experience ignited their spirits. They began talking about faith, about the Christians that they knew that had strong faiths. They talked about their shortcomings with drugs and alcohol and the needs to improve their lives. While they may not have had the prescribed etiquette of church behavior, they had received the message ever so subtlety. I watched as others from the group walked around the various stations of the cross and other holy artifacts. One never knows the inward voices on the human heart, except for God, but they seemed to be awed by the beauty and peacefulness. What I witnessed before me, was God's unconditional love being bestowed on these gentleman that I was so quick to judge when first hearing their voices. While some of us may choose to pray in silent meditation, it is possible that just by fellowship with others in a place of worship, prayers were being made in between the words. It was a good lesson to remind me that God has a place in his heart for all of us and so shall we offer the same.
As I sat, thankful of the reminder of what faith really entails, I had another opportunity offered as I left. The men now all gathered near the front door with their guide, seemed to be unsure of how to feel about themselves in such a place as this. They seemed to have that uncomfortable body language, not knowing whether to stand or run. I think we are always our own worst enemy and judge, no matter what our demons may be. As I walked past them, I smiled knowing and believing that we all belonged there. One of them in particular responded with his own gentle smile. We connected not by backgrounds, but by acceptance. It was the most human I have felt in quite some time. It's amazing how life gives you these moments to be a better person, if you pay attention. I think being Christian is about understanding your faith and striving to be the example and not the demand.
I had settled myself towards the back pew and began praying when I started to hear the sounds of rather loud chatter. At first it was indistinguishable but my thoughts immediately went to judgment. In my own inner monologue, I said to myself, "I can't believe people are talking so loudly in church...It's like a library", there's certain etiquette one maintains and an expectation of behavior in a place of worship. Eventually the talking got louder as the two gentleman began to approach behind me. It was at this point that I was able to put the hints of conversation together. I realized that the small group I had passed on my way in, were actually patients visiting from a rehab facility. Perhaps this was a requirement of their treatment or a transition out of the facility. I wasn't quite sure, but I began to listen all the while feeling shameful in some ways. Not only was I've eavesdropping, which is rude, but I also began having guilt about being so judgmental at first. These men struggled daily with their inner demons. Drugs and alcohol had become their salvation and now they were being brought into the fold of real saving grace. It was apparent that they struggled with this course of treatment, perhaps were even slightly resistant. They spoke of a female counselor whom they loved, as much as they may have loathed. She seemed to be successful in opening them up. Poetically enough they remained open as they continued to talk amongst their peers rather noticeably, within the walls of this otherwise peaceful cathedral.
Their conversation, though brief, inspired a realization that Jesus' love knows no bounds. Unlike humans who, at times, bombard, command and then persecute, God found a simple gentle way of showing his love. This group of men, had indeed been brought there not by choice, but the experience ignited their spirits. They began talking about faith, about the Christians that they knew that had strong faiths. They talked about their shortcomings with drugs and alcohol and the needs to improve their lives. While they may not have had the prescribed etiquette of church behavior, they had received the message ever so subtlety. I watched as others from the group walked around the various stations of the cross and other holy artifacts. One never knows the inward voices on the human heart, except for God, but they seemed to be awed by the beauty and peacefulness. What I witnessed before me, was God's unconditional love being bestowed on these gentleman that I was so quick to judge when first hearing their voices. While some of us may choose to pray in silent meditation, it is possible that just by fellowship with others in a place of worship, prayers were being made in between the words. It was a good lesson to remind me that God has a place in his heart for all of us and so shall we offer the same.
As I sat, thankful of the reminder of what faith really entails, I had another opportunity offered as I left. The men now all gathered near the front door with their guide, seemed to be unsure of how to feel about themselves in such a place as this. They seemed to have that uncomfortable body language, not knowing whether to stand or run. I think we are always our own worst enemy and judge, no matter what our demons may be. As I walked past them, I smiled knowing and believing that we all belonged there. One of them in particular responded with his own gentle smile. We connected not by backgrounds, but by acceptance. It was the most human I have felt in quite some time. It's amazing how life gives you these moments to be a better person, if you pay attention. I think being Christian is about understanding your faith and striving to be the example and not the demand.
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