Reflecting on Faith….

It’s another rainy morning, a morning when that second cup of coffee is more of a necessity than a luxury. We need the rain after such a long dry spell, but it surely saps my motivation. So I was drawn to this amazing photo of a bald eagle by my new friend Jeffrey, capturing the moment just prior to flight. I love how the eagle proudly puffs up its chest, leaning forward beyond all reason. The sun lights up his wings, extended toward heaven, each feather distinct. The back is gracefully arched, the tail lifted. There are so many details to notice, yet all we really see is a stunning bird ready to defy gravity, to once again take flight. It seems to me that faith is a lot like this majestic bird. Rather than safely remaining on our perch, we must lean out of our comfort zone, into the wind, at the risk of falling face first. We must arch our backs, and look ahead. We must strain upward, asking for the Holy Spirit to empower us, rather than relying on our own strength and endurance. But most of all, we must believe. We must be willing to forge ahead, assured that God works for good in all things for those who love and obey Him. Take time today to let go of what is weighing you down, leaving your burdens at the foot of the cross. Trust that the Author of Creation, the same God that deigned to take human form, knows every corner of your heart and soul, and cares about every aspect of your life. Let the Holy of Holies soothe your soul and heal your heart, guiding and guarding you each step of the way. And remember, we all have days when we need to ask God to give us faith, praying ‘I believe, help my unbelief’ Mark 9:24

Text by Connie Chintall, ©2012,
Photo entitled ‘Eagle Flight’ by Jeffrey Foltice, ©2012, to see more of his work, go to http://photonatureblog.com/

Reflecting on Rhythm….

The March wind is roaring outside my office window. It’s what Winnie the Pooh would call a blustery day. Even the majestic oaks are dancing in the wind, yet it’s the tiny branches of our poplar that caught my eye. So I was drawn to this magical photograph by my friend Luis, part of his series called ‘The Secret Life of Plants’. I am always amazing at how plants can be incredibly strong, yet still remain supple. Even the tiniest branches sway in their own peculiar rhythm, twisting and turning in response to the wind. We must let go of the specifics to detect this rhythm, looking at the same branch over time, until each particular image blurs together. At first, it may seem we have lost more than we gain, until patterns begin to emerge. We notice the graceful arch of a single branch is echoed in the scene all around us, the curve of the treetops reminds us of the shapes of passing clouds, the same colors appear all around us, popping up in the most unexpected places. The same Creator who blessed us with life calls out to us through the bounty and blessings of nature. Whatever name you give the Author of the Universe, whatever faith tradition you call your own, we all recognize the unity of our world. The same shapes and rhythms sing across the galaxy, from the tiny subatomic particles being discovered each day, to the far reaches of outer space. Take time today to see and hear the rhythm of creation. Pause to soak in the beauty of a single bloom, or to gaze at the stars. Listen to the sound of water splashing on rocks, or birds singing in the trees. And remember when we let go of our human perception, when it all begins to blur together, the rhythm of the Almighty will shine through, showing us more beauty than we ever can imagine. Photo by Luis Gonzalez, part of a series called ‘The Secret Life of Plants’

Reflecting on Uncertainty….

It’s turned cold again this morning, reminding us winter is far from over. No one seems sure how to dress for this weather, winter in the morning, perhaps like spring by the afternoon. So I was drawn to this photo of our back yard, taken by my husband Mark. Fog obscures the background, drawing your eyes to what my daughter calls the secret garden. In spring and summer, the overgrown shrubbery completely obscures the view. As a small child, she loved playing there, creating fanciful stories and imaginary worlds. My father brought us the bench from the Columbus Sale in New Jersey, almost twenty years ago. Yet what seems like a lovely place to sit is not now what it appears. The bench is broken, beyond repair. We struggle to keep poison ivy from crowding out the bulbs and other plantings. And my daughter is now a junior in high school, driving from here to there, rather than playing in our back garden. Life is far from certain, and often far from what it appears to be. I don’t know about you, but I struggle with uncertainty. In engineering school, I studied ways to model the world around us, to mathematically reduce the chaos into some semblance of certainty. Yet what really matters, the reasons we get out of bed each morning, the people and places we love most, defy all reason and calculations. To truly love one another we must accept uncertainty, throwing caution to the wind, opening our hearts to both the joy and the pain. Take time today to be truly present to those you love, accepting whatever life brings. Let go of your expectations and desire for control, let go of yesterday and tomorrow and cling to today. Empty yourself to make room for the Alpha and the Omega, the God of steadfast love that was, and is and always will be. And remember, ubi caritas et amor, where love and caring are, there is God. Photo by Mark Lindsey

Reflecting on Shadows….

The sun is a welcome sight after the cold and wet days this weekend. I enjoyed a nice walk with a visiting friend, happy to be outdoors in the cold, crisp air. So I was drawn to this photo of an unsuspecting subject taken by my friend Mary in Put-in-Bay, Ohio. I love the warm colors and sharply outlined shadows. If you look closely, you can see the brim of a hat. On the table, there are plenty of drinks waiting for friends who haven’t yet arrived or are out of the picture. Today is All Saint’s Day, the day we remember those who have passed from this life to the next. In some cultures, the Christian tradition of All Saint’s has been combined with the ancient remembrances of the dead in a celebration called Dios de los Muertos, or Days of the Dead. There is a carnival atmosphere, as communities celebrate for three days, eating ghoulish sweets, resembling skulls and bones. It’s as if Halloween and All Saint’s run together, making fun of our own mortality while accepting the reality of death by grieving loved ones. There are three days each year when all laugh and cry together. Perhaps we need a holiday like that, rather than grieving haphazardly, on our own. Like this shadow, our memories swirl around us. The strangest things can bring fresh grief, like an old sweepstakes entry or a sugar packet tucked in a shirt pocket. We look around for the source of the shadow, then realize that only the shadow remains. Yet the more we resist grief, the more it persists. We can’t get around it; we simply must get through it. Take time today to remember a loved one that has passed on, or to comfort another lost in grief. Give thanks for those who passed before you, shaped your life, and made you who you are today. Let laughter and tears blend together, like the celebration of Dios de los Muertos. And remember you can’t feel the joy without accepting the pain. We are promised abundant life, not a bowl of cherries. Photo by Mary Staley

Reflecting on Shelter….

It’s another grey, rainy day, after a brief and sunny respite. The dripping, falling leaves are brilliant against the cloudy sky, struggling to hang on, but more often spiraling to the ground. So I was drawn to this photo of the Virginia Tech campus taken by my friend Colin. Look at the trees, some still green, others changing colors, still others already losing their leaves. One tree is red at the top, and still green at the bottom. Like most college campuses, the trees are planted between the buildings. While some trees are exposed to harsh weather, others are sheltered from the cold and wind. I don’t know about you, but I feel most like the two toned tree. I manage to find only partial shelter, often leaving my most vulnerable side the most exposed. I dwell on one aspect too much, often a simple problem that cries for attention, while neglecting another more glaring issue or underlying cause. Before I know it, I’m caught out, at a loss for what to do next. Perhaps I am looking for a human way out, when only a divine answer will do. Take time today to let go of your expectations and seek the shelter and refuge of the Almighty. Look beyond your human perspective, asking to see through God’s eyes and to hear with God’s ears. Let go of your way out to make room for God’s way out. And remember, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” Psalm 91:1. Photo by Colin Shea-Blymyer

Reflecting on Purple Haze….

The sun is a welcome sight after far too many days of grey, wet weather. The mornings are cool, and the afternoons are warm, leaving everyone to wonder what to wear. So I was drawn to this beautiful picture of a field taken by my cousin Diane. I love the purple haze, a marriage of the tips of the weeds with the morning dew. Even the weeds are wearing autumn garb, sporting the rich colors of the harvest season. Purple is a wardrobe staple for me, a color I wear year round. Wearing purple makes me feel special, lightening my mood and quickening my step. Yet in nature, purple is often a harbinger of turning inward, a warning of cooler days and longer nights. Soon the fields will fade to a dull brown, and frost will replace the morning dew. At first glance, it seems everything is dying away. Yet new life exists amidst the decay. Even as the trees shed their leaves we see the buds of next year’s growth. The winter snows will slowly drench the roots below ground. What was is past, making room for what is and what will be. Take time today to turn inward, to take stock of your heart and soul. Consider what needs to be left behind, allowed to wither away, to make room for new growth. Look for ways to nurture new beginnings, or ways to recreate the here and now. Let your spirit guide you to an unlikely pairing, like the purple haze, and allow the unexpected beauty to soothe your soul. Photo by Diane Brooks Myers

Reflecting on Eternity….

Rain has been pouring down for twelve days start. While I’m less than thrilled, the plants absolutely love it. So I was drawn to this photo of a Japanese princess flower, taken by my friend Carole. I love the vibrant color, and the drops of moisture caught in the petals. This striking flower grows on a vine-like evergreen. Even when the flowers are not in bloom, you are treated to beautiful foliage. Carole took a lot of time and care to take this photo. She had to let go of everything else but that moment, and immerse herself in her quest. The flower drew her in, and the rest of the world and time as we know it melted away. Some scholars call eternity the simultaneous now, meaning that God is not governed by the arrow of time. It’s as if the Author of Creation lives in a vast mansion, with each room representing a moment in human history. So eternity intersects with our human condition in the here and now. Perhaps the cross is a symbol of this intersection, with the horizontal portion representing the human condition of linear time, and the vertical portion representing the eternal, simultaneous now. When we let go of the past and stop fretting about the future, we empty our souls before the Holy of Holies. We leave behind the arrow of time and briefly enter into eternity. We have all experienced such breathtaking moments, when we are overwhelmed by emotion or awed by incomprehensible beauty. Take time today to let random beauty or kindness draw you in. Linger in that moment and the eternal now, emptying yourself to everything but that experience. Pause to cultivate a breathtaking moment, and transform your daily routine into an eternal, vibrant blessing. Photo by Carole Buckwalter © 2011

Reflecting on Distraction….

The leaves are beginning to turn and the ground is losing its green hue, even in the midst of so much rain. The air has an earthy smell, of damp soil and decay. Yet there is so much life if you look for it. So I was drawn to this photo of a young deer by my friend Alexz. The deer is headed in one direction as it gazes back in another direction. The meadow grass is almost as tall as its back, blending in with the deer’s coloring. Without a careful look, it would be easy to miss this deer. How often are we heading in one direction while looking in another? Or thinking about everything except what we are doing right now? We leave home without something we badly need during the day. There can be times when we are so distracted we leave behind something essential, like a passport when departing on an overseas trip. We can become curt and impatient with others, through no fault of their own. We are simply frustrated that we allowed ourselves to become distracted. Psalm 42 begins with the image of a deer, saying our souls yearn for the Lord in the same way the deer longs for cool, clear water. The psalmist is downcast, he longs for the Lord because he has lost his sense of purpose, his true north. He fondly recalls days spent in the House of the Lord, full of joy and contentment. He calls out to God, asking for direction, putting his hope in the Lord. Take time today to focus on what is truly important to you. Don’t get ahead of yourself, just complete what you need to do right now. Write down what needs to be done later, and let go of it until then. Sanctify your work, making all you do a form of prayer, allowing the cool, clear water of God to flow through you and direct you. And even when you aren’t looking where you’re going, you know God is. Photo by Alexz Jade

Reflecting on Struggle….

Another band of showers is blowing through our area this morning. A slow and steady rain is soaking our deck and yard. It is one of those days when staying in bed and curling up with a good book seems like the best option. So I was drawn to this photo taken by my friend Laura. It seems like most restaurants have these claw machines near the entrance. To win, you must position the claw over the desired prize, drop the claw to grasp it, then raise the claw and drop it over the exit chute. Of course, all these tasks must be performed on a time limit. I don’t know about you, but I have never seen anyone win a prize. It seems to me that life can be a lot like this claw machine. We try the same things over and over again, expecting a different answer this time. We rely on our own efforts, hoping at last we will be wiser or faster or simply lucky. We set up time limits, and add even more pressure to difficult situations. Yet we encounter so much in life that defies a human solution. We overestimate our ability to control the world around us, setting ourselves up as God. Perhaps what we truly struggle against is letting go of control. Yet when we do, the divine solution is more than we can ever hope for, or even imagine. God offers a way out that satisfies all, answering all of our prayers. Take time today to let go of what burdens your soul. Let go of your current situation or problem, and let God guide you and guard your heart. Allow the answers to unfold in God’s time, not yours. And when you are tempted to take back control, remember this silly claw machine. Photo by Laura Walters

Reflecting on Abiding Love….

The warmer weather has returned, to remind us summer is not yet over. Those prone to allergies are having a tough time, as the weather can’t seem to make up its mind. For those suffering from migraines, this is a day to simply roll over and pull the covers up over your head. So I was drawn to this photo of Seamus, taken by my young friend Kellen. Seamus is helping Kellen finish her homework, sort of. Mostly, Seamus is abiding with Kellen. The word abide is often misunderstood. The verb abide is equated with the noun abode, meaning your place of residence. To abide means more than to live somewhere. It’s like the difference between a house and a home. To abide means to remain steadfast, to conform, to submit. Abiding love is never ending love, unconditional love, love that submits even when the cost of that love is beyond anything you can imagine. I often use images in intercessory prayer. When someone I care for is undergoing immense challenges, or in great distress, I often picture them like Seamus, as a kitten curled up in the lap of God. Like Seamus caught up in the folds of this beautiful fabric, I picture my loved one enfolded in the abiding love of the Almighty. Too often we think the answer is to be strong, to struggle and fight. Yet that path limits us to a human solution. When faced with overwhelming odds, we must submit to a higher power, to the Author of Creation. No matter what we face, it is but a small thing to the same God who defeated sin and death on the cross. Take time today to rest in the abiding love of God. Let go of what burdens your heart, offering a simple prayer for yourself or for another. And like Seamus, let’s stop to curl up in the lap of God – there is plenty of room for us all. Photo by Kellen Levinson

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