Coffee is key

Many of us busy people run on coffee to keep us going. I hope you will visit this wonderful blog site and read about coffee's key to my heart.

http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/23989/a-fragrance-of-love

Coffee is key

Many of us busy people run on coffee to keep us going. I hope you will visit this wonderful blog site and read about coffee's key to my heart.

http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/23989/a-fragrance-of-love#comments

A breath of fresh air

The respiratory gunk hangs on. All around me people hack and cough.

We take our breath for granted, and it’s only when I wheeze that I am reminded of this constant function that keeps me alive.

At our women’s fellowship, a woman tells us about the Hebrew unpronounceable name for God.  This isn’t because God is remote, she explains; rather God’s name shows how very close the great I Am really is—as close as our breath. The letters Yhwh are not meant to be pronounced but rather to be breathed.  We inhale the Yh; we exhale the wh.

And as I use another inhaler and drink hot tea, I give thanks for the God who keeps me going. Every moment of my day, each labored breath, is an invitation to remember the Creator and all breathing things.

Years ago a 90-year-old woman with great physical difficulties taught me a prayer that comes to mind frequently (a sure sign of God’s presence, as Ignatius would say, because the effects of this prayer are longlasting). 

“Breathe in God; breathe out anxiety,” Mary used to pray. She repeated the two phrases to help us let go of distracting thoughts and enter more deeply into prayer.

I am aware that my existence is inextricably linked to the unconscious habit I have of breathing.

The lungs link me to Abba  (another great word for inhaling and exhaling).

What thoughts am I thinking under my breath?

I long to curse the illness and the people who don’t stay home when they are sick. Instead I ask Yhwh to turn this breath into a prayer for all who suffer respiratory issues.

Or I think of nearly 3 billion people in developing countries who cook over open fires in their homes, breathing in smoke and living shorter lives as a result. Where is the justice in that?

I breathe as deeply as I can, wondering what Yhwh is thinking.

The naked tree outside my window speaks winter, but tiny brown wrens dance among the twiggy branches. They announce spring is coming. I breathe along with them and praise the God who holds us all.

The Lovers

This is a bit long, and maybe it's a stretch to put it here for busy people.
I preface this by saying to all us busy people: Take time to notice the people around you!

 Every Sunday, he waits for her and his face lights up when she comes through the door.

She smiles sweetly and takes her place next to him in the very front pew.

All during the service, he holds her hand like it’s the most precious object in the world. She never pulls it away. In fact, she seems to savor his touch and long for it as much as he clearly longs for hers.

I watch and see tangible tenderness.

I wonder what their parents would think if they saw them together!

“It will never last,” I imagine them saying. Something in this weekly meeting strikes me as a couple that shares a secret.

He inclines his whole body towards his Juliet, and with his legs crossed, his knees leaning toward hers, it’s as if a physical longing to be with her overcomes him.

Their heads tilt, shoulders rounded, and their bodies form a heart as they sit there.

I can see them easily from my seat in the choir. They never notice me because their eyes are only for each other. Ever attentive, he leans closer at every movement she makes, and I imagine that if he could get any closer, he would. This hour of prayer seems to be their most precious hour of the week.

Oh! Would that more people exhibited such a passionate love! Even if it is in the front pew of a church!

He helps her with the song sheet. He observes her unabashedly as she closes her eyes.  He appears eager to meet her every need, and starts if she makes the slightest movement. When everyone stands for the Our Father, they remain seated, absorbed in a love that reaches out to the hands of the people on either side.

St. Francis of Assisi is credited with saying, “Preach the Gospel always, and sometimes use words.” This crosses my mind as I observe them.

As the final hymn plays, he hands her his handkerchief, and I am reminded of the old fashioned flirtatious ploy of a woman dropping her hankie to get the attention of a suitor. He gives her a token of his undying love, I conclude.

They aren’t the first ones to leave. In fact I must wait extra long in my seat with the choir to watch their parting. Oh, I can see it will be sad!

He stands slowly, and shuffles very deliberately to the back of her wheel chair. He unlocks the break, and they head to the door.  A caregiver from the assisted living home where she resides is waiting at the door. He will go home alone.

Great lover were visible in church this morning. Perhaps the great love in the broken bread is what keeps the couple going, providing nourishment for them all week long.

 Give thanks for the signs of love all around you. And have a great week!