Come Lord Jesus

Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness,
send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, "Come Lord Jesus!" Amen.

from the Catholic Family Prayer Book, published by Our Sunday Visitor, 2001.


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Just Passing Through

Kerry’s dad is in the final stage of his life. Hospice is involved and he is slowly making his way to the other side. While talking to my grandsons, we’ve been trying to explain to them that Ray will not be alive much longer. I’ve used words like dying and death to communicate what’s happening to him. Almost daily one of the kids asks me is KK’s dad dead yet? They follow that with, Mimi will you be dead when I’m a teenager? Though their questions sound harsh to me, it’s simply how they are trying to process death at ages 6 and 7.

Coincidentally, I was reading a blog today that talked about life and death as one event. They used a term I most commonly hear in Black churches or from some of my older black friends. Rather than declaring a final “death” they simply say he/she has passed. As a person of faith who believes that life on earth is simply a part of my life, and short in comparison, what a wonderful way to describe the mystery of passing from living in human form into God’s presence in the heavenly realms (whatever that might look like). What a great teaching moment for my grand-kids as we talk about “passing through” rather than something so final as death. Of course the body dies but that’s only the container. I wonder what my new container will look like in heaven. I’m counting on it looking thin! Sorry, I digress.

As I think about Ray today, it is much easier to celebrate the joy of his eminent passing, even though we will experience the loss of his presence with us. I love knowing my Mom and Dad, Mark, Jean Ann, Barney and others have passed into the better side of life.

One last note… without any prompting, on the way to school this morning, Ben looked at me and said,

Mimi, I hope KK’s dad dies peacefully.

How precious and real are these little ones.


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Amy Grant Strikes Again

I was listening to some music today as I working on my computer. An old song came on Pandora. It’s an Amy Grant song entitled Doubly Good to You. As only music can, my heart immediately flashed back to a place when I thought about Jesus much more than I do today. How wonderful those early years were with my love affair with Jesus. My abandonment into His care changed my life, every day.

As I’ve gotten older my spiritual roots have grown deep into the soil of God’s rich love and grace. I am more mature in my faith. But should “maturity” eliminate the experience of that feeling in my heart that is indescribably connected to the God who loves me? Perhaps it’s like growing old with a spouse or partner. The early days of falling in love are euphoric, but as the years go by love deepens and pain strangely solidifies true love. But too many of us neglect the passion we once felt and the feeling in our hearts that couldn’t be restrained.

My dear friends Barnie and Doris, who were like parents to me, taught me about mature love and deep passion. They faced numerous challenges in their lives and they walked through pain hand in hand. Married over fifty years, not a day went by where they didn’t stop the other in the hall and share a kiss or long embrace. Numerous times a day they took the time to look into each other’s eyes and tell each other how dearly they were loved. It’s no surprise they loved Jesus the same way. Both of them would tear up as they described God’s goodness in their lives. They served God faithfully and passionately. Barnie recently passed away and in a packed church in Tulia Texas two things were said over and over; “Barnie loved Jesus and Barnie loved Doris.” What a great legacy!

So today, as I read about changes in the church, a new culture of people who are seeking faith in different places and as I examine where I fit in to this theological discussion, I am taking a few precious moments to close my eyes and bask in the arms of my greatest love.

What about you?
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Brennan Manning - April 27, 1934 – April 12, 2013

My mentor, my friend and the man who helped me experience myself as “The Beloved” is finally free. There are two people in my life who taught me the real meaning of grace, Bill Counts and Brennan Manning. Bill changed my experience of the grace of God and put me on a spiritual path that totally changed the trajectory of my life. He also taught me how to extend grace to others and how to develop communities of grace. Then, in 1995 Brennan Manning wrote about and modeled an intimate picture of God’s radical grace for me personally; and that gift molded my life, saved my life and changed hundreds of others lives’ who have been involved in our work through Barnabas. It is the reality that God is simply crazy about me and the “relentless tenderness of God” that continues to be the truth that I stand on when I believe I am unworthy and unlovable. Brennan put it this way,

“Do you believe that the God of Jesus loves you beyond worthiness and unworthiness, beyond fidelity and infidelity; that He loves you in the morning sun and the evening rain; that He loves you when your emotions refuse it and your whole being rejects it? Do you believe that God loves without condition or reservation, and He loves you this moment as you are, not as you should be?”

The first book I read by Brennan was Abba’s child. It is the most significant piece of literature I have in my library. I’ve read it over and over again and still cannot take in all the depth of its meaning. After the life changing impact from Abba’s Child, I read every book written by Brennan Manning.

Having been seduced by Brennan’s writing, I ask him to speak at a Women’s retreat. To my great surprise he said yes! Through the years he also agreed to lead a silent retreat and speak at other events. He spent time with me telling me the truth about how God views me. One afternoon I sat across from Him and confessed my deepest fears about life and about myself. He took my hands, looked me in the eyes and said, “Abba loves you perfectly, as you are. There is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, that can make God love you more or make God love you less.” I believed him.

Brennan also taught me about prayer. He taught me to breathe in with the word, “Abba” and breathe out the phrase, “I belong to you.” So when the dark voices of my mind tell me I am unworthy, when my life is falling apart, when I think it might be time to check myself in, I stop and simply breathe, “Abba, I belong to you.” With each breath I come again into the presence of the one who calls me His beloved.

If you know anything about Brennan you know that he struggled with alcohol addiction and other behaviors that hurt the people he loved. But that never kept him from believing and accepting God’s love and redemption… over and over again. It was his inability to conquer his demons that brought him to leave us with the profound message “All is Grace.”



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I Am the Rich Young Ruler

I spent most of the night yesterday at Parkland Hospital, the county hospital where the majority of the poor and uninsured go when they are sick or injured. My friend works as an OT at Parkland in the burn unit. She has been experiencing some neurological abnormalities so she went to the ER to be seen by a Parkland Neurologist. Though she was enjoying some personal benefits of being a Parkland Employee, we still had to pass through a sea of people to find her in one of the hundreds of make-shift beds lined up in the hall. There was not one square foot that did not have the word “patient” above a bed or chair in the hall. The rooms were reserved for those who needed special monitoring or those who had been admitted with traumatic injuries.

The large waiting room was full of people who knew they would be waiting for hours on end because they were down the line in the triage system. I was in the elevator with one man who said he had been up 24 hours and couldn’t wait any longer so he was going home to sleep and return the next morning. Blood pressure cuffs were handed out as those waiting had their vitals checked to see if they needed to be moved up in the line.

As a former, middle class, white female I tried to imagine being down there with one of my grandchildren or being indigent with no strings to pull and no power to take control of my health care. I saw first hand what it would be like to be at the mercy of the system. My nice north Dallas doctor’s office with nice furniture and a nice receptionist is like going to the doctor at the Ritz. And my insurance picks up the bill!

Today I am embarrassed to acknowledge that I live in an isolated world. I don’t have to face people who can’t pay their bills. I don’t have to see people who are powerless over their basic needs. I don’t see people who were born into a system of poverty with very little chance of breaking free. I don’t see people who are sick and have to walk or find public transportation to a crowded ER. I don’t see anything but my comfortable home, with my comfortable life style and all of the “things” I use to keep me busy and put me in situations where I don’t have to see. God forgive me for not doing anything for people in my community who need my help. Surely, this is what Jesus calls us to do. But I’ve become the rich young ruler.
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Yelling and Pleading with God

Many of you know that I have a severely disabled son, Ricardo. When I first adopted him at age five, I prayed and prayed for God to heal him of his past that tormented him and caused aggressive behaviors born out of his survival for self protection. Through the years, his mental limitations and emotional struggles were attributed to much more than his past. Several years ago he was finally diagnosed with a rare genetic disease that progresses as he gets older. Watching him decline is sad beyond words. Most days, I can get by with gratitude for the life we’ve shared or the small window of light that still finds a way to occasionally shine in his eyes. There are rare times that he perks up when he sees old friends or he’s in a room full of people.

But most days, he is trapped in an anxious, weakened body that only finds relief when he sleeps.

On Sunday, I heard a song called, “I Will Be Free.”

I will be free,
I will be free to run the mountains
I will be free
Free to drink from the living fountain…

And I'll dance on silver moonlight
And I'll walk through velvet fields
And I'll run into the arms that set me free
For I will be free

I burst into tears as I saw Ricardo whole, healed and running up the mountain. Then I began begging, yelling and pleading with God to heal him. As I pictured him running again as he did when he was five or smiling and laughing as he did only a few years ago, I woke up from the miracle of his healing to the reality that only in death will Ricardo be healed. But I am not ready to let him go! If I entertain those pictures, I feel like I’m giving in to death.

There is no answer! There is no relief for him, outside of God intervening. And with over twenty years of praying for healing I just don’t believe that is going to happen in this life. So on day three of longing for my son from years past, I watch him sleep and stare at his face. I’m grateful for each breath he takes and I’m lost in my thoughts of what could have been, if only….

• Think of a time in your life when your heart was breaking and it appeared as though God was silent.
• Have you allowed time, expressed sadness and grief to help you heal or have you lived in denial, pushing down hurt and pain?
• Do you have a safe community that will allow you to be broken and allow God the time and space to prepare you for living with loss?

I could have ended this story with the truth of God’s comfort and presence in the pain. But there are times when the story must be told in the midst of our deepest sadness before we move on to acceptance.
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Who Cares about Who The President Is When....

I’ve spent the last two days in Houston at Texas Children’s hospital with my son Ricardo. He has a genetic disorder that is progressive and untreatable. We met with two new specialists who are going to try to help him walk again.

On the way to the hospital, in the hotel shuttle, there was a woman in her second round of breast cancer going to MD Anderson for treatment. She makes the trip every three months but she probably won’t survive. When we got back to the hotel, the talk overheard in the lobby and on the news was all about the Republican National Convention. After spending the day with other parents at a hospital that specializes in research and the treatment of very sick kids, it was no surprise that a multi-billion dollar campaign didn’t make much sense to me.

So what I wish I had told my youth group thirty-five years later is: few things matter when you hear the words, “You have breast cancer.” Or,“I’m sorry but your child is going to die.” Few things matter when you leave your father at an Alzheimer’s facility and he looks out the door wondering where he is and why you’re leaving him.

There are other tragedies you have endured such as finally giving up on your dream of a happy marriage as you sit in unbearable pain knowing your spouse is not in love with you anymore, hearing the news that your child took his life, seeing the test results that confirm you have AIDS or the initial shock that your son was not born perfect like all the other kids and is going to be disabled his entire life. He will never marry, graduate from high school, or have children.

Notice what all of these situations have in common. They are all about relationships. The most beautiful and the most painful moments in life are ALWAYS about relationships. So why do we spend most of our time trying to gain power, success and large bank accounts? Though politics, church, making a living and even standing for values that you believe in are a part of life, everything stands still when sorrow and suffering take your hand.

In 2009 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. At different times through my surgery and treatment, it was as if time stood still and God gave me eyes to see what mattered most to me. What mattered during breast cancer had little to do with where I had been spending the majority of my time, energy and money. Once I was diagnosed, making an impact in the world became less about my ego and more about the grace of God. I suddenly had time for the people who meant the most to me. I wanted to hold my children and live a simple, quiet life. I wanted to sit with Jesus as only He could comfort me and calm my fears.

The bottom line is don’t live and die for the next job, the “right" church, America “like it used to be,” enough money to retire or the illusion that you have any power at all. Instead, tell your kids over and over that you love being their mom or dad. Don’t let a day go by without stopping your spouse in the hall, embracing them and whispering in their ear that you are STILL crazy about them. Make time for life long friends, sitting on the back porch or talking around the kitchen table. SLOW DOWN long enough to make homemade ice cream and don’t be afraid to use the good china on Tuesday night. Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.