womb, blood, maiden passages, life’s cycles and ancient mysteries. This very language of
birth, rebirth and mystery---the circling and spiraling of our years as we age and journey
ever closer to the home country of our souls---is a light within. From the Introduction
break. To bend spiritually is an attitude, a resilience of the soul, knowing that there are things
we have to do whether we like them or not. Troubles of every kind can and often do occur
when we least expect them---and to bend will be our only chance of surviving. From Bend
or Break
first dream, I am driving a car that only goes backwards, won’t steer correctly and has no
breaks. The other dream involves a raging, treacherous river that I am trying to cross.
Dreams have their own language and symbolism and they don’t let us fool ourselves. Many
times they invite us to face truths or unfinished business that we don’t want to address
when we’re awake and busy. They also challenge us to view ourselves as students rather
than victims when disturbing experiences make us feel threatened. The world of dreams can
help keep us in touch with our emotional life. They accurately portray the inner spiritual
language of our hardships, helping us to regroup and gather in our hope… or to start over.
From Scrapes, Bumps and Dreams
prayer work, we can create spiritual closure to things that hurt or haunt us. Many years
ago, I began writing a fable about a princess who was on a significant journey. The irony
is, I never was able to write an ending that seemed right for the story. Today, however, the
story remains one of my all time favorite tales because it doesn’t have an ending or offer
any answers. It reminds me that God prepares a safe path for all of us---a path that unfolds
as our hardships unfold. Watching the princess, we get a sense that things will turn out all
right, even though what lies ahead isn’t revealed. God always provides a path, if not an
ending. From The Princess and the Path
grief inconsolable. Night had begun to fall and I could barely see as I made my way back
through the woods. It seemed to me as if God had sent the owl to keep vigil, thereby
assuring me that I was doing the right thing in releasing my son, my sorrow, my dreams and
hopes, allowing the stream of life and God’s care to surround, enfold and carry us all. The
egg seemed so small and fragile in the stream, I felt very protective of it---but I sensed that
it was time to trust, to symbolically let it go to wherever it was meant to go. In the near
darkness, the naked branches of the winter trees were silhouetted against the sky, and I
could see the many empty nests the trees lifted heavenward, as if in supplication, like
prayers. From An Empty Nest and Beyond
feeling as if the spiritual heat in her body had drained away, all except for a pinpoint in her
chest: It was as if the world consisted of only me and that dot. I thought of Genesis, when
in the beginning the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.
The first thing God created was light. Even when I felt as if my own light had gone out, the
light of God within me remained eternal, a powerful pinpoint of hope and comfort that did
not beckon to me from afar but began melting, thawing, illuminating and warming me from
the inside out. From Staircase to Heaven
began listening to my body, my feminine cycles, my intuition, and I began to trust in the
synchronicity of events and experiences as the framework of my hardships began to make
sense. There was such comfort and wonder in this; I was like a child who had trespassed
over a fence into a homeland that was hers to begin with. I had a whole new world to
explore. From Over the Fence
other voices are there---but they’ve just not awakened in their hearts yet. Remember this
when you feel alone, as if no one cares or wants to hear your heart’s truth. Remember that
truth does not always awaken fully, early or even at all in some people. You are called to
nothing less than to simply know your own song and to release it to a hurting and violent
world. From Light Bearers
who are scarred by the shortcomings of those who cannot shoulder caretaker
responsibilities entrusted to them. Yield great healing from small graces, God; compensate
and weave love and wisdom gathered from secret, holy places reserved just for the
neglected and abused. From Love Too Small
consciousness---I used to curl up on the ledge of the back window of our old family car late
at night when we motored home from going somewhere. I would lie looking up at the night
sky, drowsing as I listened to the murmur of Mom and Dad talking in tones too soft for me
to hear. I felt secure and enfolded, as if goodness and happiness would carry and surround
me all my life. As a child, I sensed instinctively that the universe was a mothering, caring,
magical place in which to live. As my breath fogged the window and I felt the coolness of
the glass along the length of my body wrapped in a blanket, the endless, star-speckled night
would glimmer through the back window, teaching me that the cosmos is an intimate,
personal world as close to me as the vapor on the window. That night after the fireworks, I
thought, "Why in the world would anyone ever allow the duties of everyday living to
smother this life-giving truth?" The idea seemed preposterous, and I felt filled with
compassion for the child in each of us who needs to believe when the adult in us is too
overwhelmed or used up to care or remember. From Double Blessings
we’d prefer. Despite this, I know God asks us to be Keepers of the Flame, the glow from
which can be seen a long way off. Even if their backs are turned, our children will always
know it’s there. God who Connects the Disconnected, when we feel like failures, remind us
that a mother’s commission is not to be perfect but to stand by. There is an ocean between
giving up and having the wisdom to let go of certain unrealistic hopes and dreams. From A
Mother’s Calling
in the surrounding rubble, sifting idly through the dust and wondering if anything is
salvageable. I could feel God waiting, letting me weigh my thoughts. Loving patience
seemed to envelope me as I mulled over an important decision: Was I going to cling to the
measly trust I had in myself and in my own control, or was I going to offer my trust to
God? I took my time, but I finally made a decision I have never regretted. In my
imagination, I watched the ball slowly roll down my legs and bump softly onto the floor,
until it came to rest within the folds of God’s robe. "Are you sure?" I heard a gentle voice
ask. Then, as God rested a caring hand upon the ball as if it were a precious object, I said,
"Yes." Dream Builder God, when we rebuild our dreams through you, with you and in you,
disappointment does not destroy us. Rather, wonders only you could imagine rise through
the rubble as we put our trust in your hands. From Red Ball of Trust
my mind, my taut nerves relax and I begin to sink even deeper into my chair. If I could see
my face, I know that it would look smoother and free of lines. My mind becomes like a
flower that opens only at night---and I feel it responding to God’s call and touch. I often
wonder why I can’t be like this during the day, why I let commotions, duties and
responsibilities get the best of me? But these questions only bring back the tension. So when
they arise, I slowly fold my hands, close my eyes, and repeat my mantra: Let it rest. The
last thing I remember is the stillness of surrender as my consciousness slips into soothing
places beneath my jittery nerves and the memories of the day’s stress. God of Flowers that
Bloom in the Night, when we fall asleep in prayer, the tightness of the day drops away
without our even knowing it. Our souls always know the difference. From Night Prayers
cold of helplessness as a result. Rather, we can find new ways to live the familiar patterns
of our lives with resilience, inner strength, humor, and even trusting in the power of small
miracles. Thomas Merton had it right when he wrote, "Living is the constant adjustment of
thought in such a way that we are always experiencing new things in the old and old things
in the new. Thus, life is always new. God of All Millenniums, we celebrate because it is
never too late to forge new tracks through old troubles. As new fallen snow, the future
awaits our first hopeful footprint. From Ka-Plop
