The Bottom Drawer

Harriet was a much beloved wife, mother, grandmother, friend. She was a member of my congregation and a former member of a neighboring Presbyterian Church, where she maintained many close ties. When Harriet died, her Memorial Service was shared by the two churches. I have received so many comments about the sermon I preached at the service, that I find myself wanting to blog about "The Bottom Drawer." The sermon and the entire Memorial Service were designed around the contents of a file, carefully saved in the bottom drawer of Harriet's desk. There, she had placed copies of favorite poems, bulletins from other Memorial Services she had attended, the names of hymns she especially liked, prayers and Scripture passages that had meaning for her. The focus Scripture passage I used for the sermon came from a meditation she wrote for her church's devotional booklet back in 1968.

Between the contents of the Bottom Drawer, the memories her family shared with me, and my own experience of this beloved church member, I had many rich resources to bring into the process of creating a sermon that would honor Harriet's life. But more than having ample material with which to work, I was struck by the resonance of the material with the life she lived.

The Scripture passage was filled with images that I could connect to the Harriet I knew. In fact, anyone who knew her could easily connect the dots between the contents of the drawer and the 'content' of her life. Someone told me that during the sermon, there were smiles, tears and times when one wanted to say, 'Yes!' Her words and deeds generally matched her values and beliefs. The life that was visible to others reflected the relationship she lived with her God.

How do you want to be remembered? Why not start a 'bottom drawer' file and fill it with bits and pieces that say something about who you are and what you have loved. Start gathering words and images and songs that capture what is sacred to you, that reflect what has been true, for you. Let the contents of your bottom drawer be a reminder of the life you wish to live. And then, with the gift of each of your remaining days, live it!

Blessings on the Way,

Cheryl

The Shadow

One bright sunny morning, recently, I walked through my dining room and noticed how the sun was shining on the bright pink cylamen sitting on the table. I noticed how the light brought the color vividly, to life. And then I noticed the shadow. I noticed the darkness, contrasting with the light.

Have you seen your shadow, lately?

This week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy" explored the shadow side of a brilliant neurosurgeon, whose gifts brought healing for many. But when a mistake leads to the death of a patient, the surgeon is overwhelmed by his shadow. When presented with the evidence of the many lives he could not save, all he can see is the shadow. It doesn't matter to him that many of them had reached a point beyond the capacity of medicine to bring healing, when they turned to him. It doesn't matter to him, that by using his gifts in these last-resort cases, he gained knowledge that could advance the boundaries of medical science. Facing what is beyond his control, discovering the limits of his abilities, seeing the consequences of his mistakes, experiencing the difficult emotions that come up, the shadow is overwhelming, even terrifying.

Have you seen your shadow lately?

This week, I've been thinking about the cross as the shadow of our faith. In some parts of the world, churches, even stadiums are filled to capacity on Good Friday and empty on Easter. For people who live every day of their lives in the shadow of death or violence or suffering, the cross of Jesus is a profound source of comfort. Not so much among those who fill churches on Easter, the joy and hope of resurrection eclipsing the shadow of the cross.

The "Grey's Anatomy" episode ended with the statement....one way to get rid of the shadow, is to turn out the light. Where does that leave you? In darkness. In this season of Lent, perhaps the idea is not to get rid of the shadow, but to turn toward the light of Jesus, where as for my cyclamen, our brilliant colors may be exposed alongside our shadow. Perhaps there we find God, loving both the light and the shadow, in us. Perhaps there we find the courage to walk with the suffering and to trust the path God has provided for our healing, for our salvation.

Blessings, on the Way,

Cheryl

Standing By

Now that the snow is mostly gone and the earth is once again visible, it looks absolutely dead, does it not? The lawn that will turn bright green, with fresh, sweet-smelling new growth is now nothing but frozen brown thatch. The trees lift stark, bare branches to the sky like gaunt arms, raised in surrender. Flower beds and gardens lie empty, blank, bleak....there is not even a hint of the riot of color and fragrance that will break through, come spring. At this time of the year, we are still in the dead of winter.

Today, I am thinking the same may be true for our souls. In his book "Care of the Soul," Thomas Moore writes, "Soul is not a thing, but a quality or dimension of experiencing life and ourselves. It has to do with depth, value, relatedness, heart, and personal substance." In the dead of winter, our souls may look like death: our mood may be dark, our thoughts may be negative, our energy may be low, our desire to withdraw or escape may be compelling, our heart may be heavy, our capacity to engage life with enthusiasm may be just about null and void.

Just as, within the earth lies the capacity to generate growth once again, the same is true for our souls. However, as long as we view the dead of winter as a problem to be solved or a condition to be avoided, we may miss the gift that is in this season, for us. Joe Cocker sings a song called "Hymn for My Soul." The lyrics include a line that says, "sing a hymn for my soul, stand by me as I grow...."

It seems to me that Lent is a season to stand by our souls, in the dead of winter. Standing by is about acceptance of what is. Standing by is watching the darkness, noticing the heaviness, observing the emptiness....and wondering what it can teach us. Standing by requires patience and trust. Standing by is about loving the soul that looks like death. Just as we would not judge the grass for its brown-ness or the garden for its emptiness, or the trees for their naked branches, neither need the winter of our souls be cause for criticism.

Jesus said, "Those who want to save their live will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it." (Mark 8:35) Standing by, we relinquish and there we find the healing, save love of Jesus, standing by us, in the dead of winter.

Standing by, on the Way,

Cheryl