Lucy's Love

Every time I return home my dog, Lucy, goes berserk. First there's that sweet moment when she realizes that I have returned from wherever I've been. Then there is that mad dash to get to me. This can occur at a dizzying level of speed. This is followed by the jumping up on me, the piddling, the squeaking, and the frantic tail wagging. And the length of time that I'm away doesn't seem to factor in to her uber-excitement. I can be gone a week or 20 minutes. It's all the same to Lucy. And I love it for who else is so consistently overjoyed just by my walking into their range of sight?

Here's what I know about my dog. She is the spittin' image of the Father in the parable of The Prodigal Son. You know the story, boy is unhappy with his lot in life, asks dad for his inheritance, dad hands it over, boy blows it all and has to crawl back home. He is expecting to hear a litany of "I told you so's" but instead his dad acts just like my dog. Running, kissing, hugging, and I am undone by such a display of love - as I'm sure that son was. Like the Prodigal Son's Father, Lucy's mercy is neverending. I continue to learn a lot from her.

P.S. Oh yeah, and about that "put-out attitude" of the older brother. Definitely cat behavior.

Life explained with Music

Severe Salmon

Today during lectio group, while reading aloud the parable of the prodigal son

from Luke's gospel, I tripped over my own tongue and instead of saying,

"When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country"

I said,

"When he had freely spent everything, a severe salmon struck that country."

Of course we all laughed, but as I made my way through

the rest of the reading I could only imagine
what being attacked by a severe salmon would look like

and how it would strike some poor unsuspecting country.

I don't know about you but I think I would rather suffer the famine

than face the prospect of being smacked around by

some severe salmon?

photo from here

Lenten Fast?

Lenten Morning Routine

by Steven Robinson

snitched from here

less is truth

It does not require

many words

to speak the truth.

Chief Seattle

this goes along with my Lenten desire to fast on talking, feast on listening

Jesus, Our Holy Mother Hen

In last Sunday's Gospel from Luke, Pharisees came to warn Jesus that Herod was out to kill him. Jesus responded with a strong message for them to deliver in which he described Herod as a fox and himself as poultry. Really. Near the end of the reading Jesus had this to say about his love for Jerusalem:

"How often have I desired to gather your children together

as a hen gathers her brood under her wings,

and you were not willing!"

In Elizabeth's+ Sunday sermon she mentioned (amongst other brilliant insights) that Jesus could have compared himself to something with more power, such as a rooster, which could haved used its talons to fight the fox. Instead Jesus described himself as a mother hen. Check out this picture of a broody hen. Look at how covered up those chicks are. Is that you I see looking so dreamy under the wings of Christ? Ah yes, you do look quite protected, and oh so content. Carry on.

In my quest to find the photo I came across this blog with another insightful perspective about this Gospel reading along with a glorious mother hen prayer. And as the Lord's Prayer is so important to me during this Lenten Season I had to share what I found. I encourage you to click on the red link above to read the rest of Tammerie Day's thoughts:

"Our Mothering Hen

Who art brooding over us

hallowed be thy sheltering wings.

Forgive our unwillingness to come into your embrace

And gather us in, reluctance and all.

Free us from fear of foxes

And the sharp bite

of anything that separates us from you.

Open our eyes

To the plenty around us.

Open our hearts

That our plenty be shared.

Lead us not into contention

But into the dance of connection.

For thine is the grace that wakes us each new day

And thine is the mercy that puts our souls at ease

And thine is the love that sets our hearts alight.

For ever and ever, amen."

Tammerie Day - posted at Day at a Glance

so sorry

"I'm so sorry this happened to you"

This is a well-intentioned comment we emit frequently when someone relays distressing news. We don't want to see anyone suffer, and yet we all suffer. We really want to believe that we have at least a smidgen of control over the hills and valleys of this process of living our lives but deep down we know we don't. And so we say we're sorry that it happened in an attempt to bring comfort and express our empathy. And it always leaves us feeling inadequate.

I found this Barbara Brown Taylor quote on FB today and was moved by the reality of the work of suffering in our lives:

"Terrible things happen, and you are not always to blame.

But don’t let that stop you from doing what you are doing.

That torn place your fear has opened up inside of you is a holy place.

Look around while you are there. Pay attention to what you feel.

It may hurt you to stay there and it may hurt you to see,

but it is not the kind of hurt that leads to death.

It is the kind that leads to life."

Barbara Brown Taylor, from "Life-Giving Fear, Christian Century 1998.

and so we pray:
Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves:

Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls,

that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body,

and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul;

through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Book of Common Prayer, Collect for 3rd Sunday in Lent

photo from here