Archives for posts with tag: Easter

I love the kind of letters that come in my mailbox, and this one — this typewritten one from Mary Holley — is so  worth sharing. 

Mary Holley letter

February 4, 2013

Dear Ms. Gregory,

What is Hope? you asked readers of your D&C column of January 14, 2013. A huge challenge, especially after daily negative media reports on the “fiscal cliff” fiasco, the “Sequester” unknown, little Ethan (whose name means Power, Strength) snatched from his friends and family, fate still in limbo. These but a few examples of our turbulent times. Yes, indeed, Hope seems far away. But it must be around here somewhere!

I am quite sure Hope is a survivor. Part of the human psyche since History’s dawn. And a trail-blazer. Hope keeps us going in spite of all natural or man-made disasters. Regardless of disappointment, tragedy, loss.

Hope is good news we look for and sometimes find in unexpected places. Hope is seeing buds of spring clinging fast to frozen trees in winter. Hope is shining in the promise of every newborn baby child.

Hope is a wishing star. A double rainbow. Light in darkness. Heart-warming spark kindling ideas blazing-bright. Hope energizes us to build tomorrow’s dreams today. Hope is that mighty invisible Force moving us on even if we are plodding… even when we’re lost.

Hope is a blessing and gift for every human heart. Ours to keep or give away so freely with our smile, our friendly greeting, just the right words or a comforting embrace. And we still have that gift in good supply!

Hope is a prayer throughout all Time, no matter what or why we believe. Hope lifts us up, lightens our burdens, encourages our hearts, inspires our purpose. Lets us rejoice with praise and thanks-giving.

And so much more… this miracle called Hope!

With many wishes for Good Cheer and Lots of Hope!

Sincerely,

Mary Holley

IMG_0912I know I’m not alone in needing to focus on hope, especially after witnessing so much sadness at the end of 2012, so will you join me in writing about hope for 40 days? I’m starting Feb. 13, which is Ash Wednesday, in hopes that my heart will be better prepared to celebrate Easter.

IMG_0901Just a few days ago I asked for artists of all abilities to create journaling pages. Now, I’m ready to provide more details. I’m looking for 40 artists to create unique and inspiring pages people can download and write on — 8 1/2 X 11 pages that urge us to hope and love. It’s perfectly fine to include your name and Website on the page, and I’d be happy to include a short artist statement and bio here on the blog. I was thinking something like this:

daisy Daisy Dog Designs specializes in mud paw prints. Daisy’s inspiration for her journaling page comes from a poem by Emily Dickinson, which she reads every night in her kennel. Find out more at MadeUpWebsite.com. 

My vision is that after 40 days, we’ll all have a beautiful journal and much better understanding of hope.

So, what do you say? Will you help us out?

IMG_0904

Grandma Gregory could spin a tale like nobody’s business. She’d take a routine trip to the corner store and turn it into the kind of story that you’d asked her to tell again and again.

And when she started in on the stories about how tiny Daddy was as a baby, you could practically see the dresser drawer he slept in and the little doll clothes he wore.

So, you can imagine the kinds of letters she wrote to her children. One of my favorites is her party invitation to fill in a ditch. She promises games for the children and wheelbarrow and shovel racing for the adults.

In another letter, postmarked March 25, 1978, she wishes my parents a happy Easter. In it, she writes about how she cherishes her memories from the Easter of 1977 – the year the two of them dedicated their lives to serving God and were baptized. That Easter season, Grandma’s “dream of a lifetime” came true, she writes, before she goes on to encourage them:

“… we’ll come in contact with many things we don’t understand but read your Bible, keep your eyes on Jesus and your hand in his and he will take you through to the end.”

She wrote all of those things before sickness took her husband and diabetes took her legs, before terrorists slammed airplanes into the World Trade Center, before tsunamis raked away entire towns and villages and radiation threatened to poison the survivors.

Now, all these years later, I still find comfort and wisdom in her long-ago letter.

She reminds me to pray not only for protection, but for strength.

Grandma spent most of her life trying to crawl into God’s arms and trying to share his love with others. She was OK with not understanding everything, OK with not knowing how every story ended.

She simply trusted the author.

 

 

I’ve seen mosaics with gilded halos around the heads of saints and stained glass windows that stretched 20 feet or more, glowing with light. I’ve stood within a breath of Michelangelo’s la Pieta, and I still remember how no detail was rushed or skipped – every muscle, every vein captured there in marble.

And now, I’ve seen the ugly clay foot in my friend Linda Gordon’s car.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what it was when I first leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. I just saw it out of the corner of my eye, sitting there taped to the dashboard by the clock. It was an inch and a half, 2 inches at most. Pinkish, like my skin, and it had one slightly chipped toe courtesy of an unfortunate fall to the floorboard of the Kia.

I took in a quick breath before I blurted out, “What is that?”

“It’s a foot,” she said, as if it were the most common thing in the world.

She had gotten it at church in the days leading up to Easter. She had her choice among a rooster, some silver coins or a foot – all reminders of Jesus’ final days before his crucifixion.

The rooster was kind of big and unattractive, she said, with a shrug, so she went with the small, ugly foot.

“I painted its toenails after it fell,” she said, as she backed out of her driveway. “I think it looks a lot better now.”

It was hard to argue. She had done a terrific job painting the toenails a shade of cotton candy pink.

“It reminds me that we’re all on a journey,” she said, the foot bobbing just a tiny bit on top of its loop of tape. It was slightly unconventional, and certainly unexpected, but there it was: Her very own quirky religious symbol.

I still like ornate crosses and finely detailed nativity scenes, but I began to see the awkward clay foot in a slightly different light.

Take the next step in faith. Walk with God. Add beauty on the journey, it seemed to say.

“Do you think I could get my own foot for my dashboard?” I asked.

She promised to ask if there were any left over at church. “But you’ll want to paint the toenails,” she advised.

Of course.

Photo courtesy of Ann Voskamp

The beauty of purple hyacinths in the snow.

The smell of a granddaughter’s hair after her bath.

All tiny blessings scratched in Lida Merrill’s gratitude journal so she can cradle the moments just a little longer and thank the one whom she believes created it all.

Water droplets off a shale wall.

The stillness of a lake as the morning mist rises and the loons call.

Gifts that once would have been missed are now counted and celebrated in preparation for their Easter observance and in the hope of a life well lived — a life renewed by gratitude and joy.

“The practice of journaling keeps me focused on who I am grateful to and who is the source of what I am grateful for — God,” says Merrill, who along with dozens of other people in the Rochester area, recently read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Voskamp’s story of writing down 1,000 things she was grateful for has earned her a spot onThe New York Times bestsellers list for more than eight months and has inspired countless others to take note of their own gifts and to trust the giver.

In the book, Voskamp references the Greek word eucharisteo, which is the word used to describe what Jesus does when he breaks bread at the Last Supper before his death on a cross. The word means “thanksgiving.”

“But guess what root words are embedded in that word, eucharisteo? Charis — and charis means ‘grace.’ Jesus took the bread and saw it as grace and gave thanks,” Voskamp said in an interview. “And the other word embedded in eucharisteo, is the word chara, meaning ‘joy.’ See it? The triplet, that three-braid cord? Charis. Grace. Eucharisteo. Thanksgiving. Chara. Joy.”

Easter is about joy, about fresh hope and new beginnings, she says. And it all begins with being grateful.

“This tremendous response to the gift of Easter, what can it be but thanksgiving?”

In all things, give thanks

For years, Merrill took note of the kind things that other people did. She filled notebook after notebook in her Rochester home with thanks for the neighbor who shoveled the driveway and the daughter who folded the laundry without being asked. But now, since reading the book, that is changing, said Merrill, assistant pastor at Zion United Methodist Church in West Walworth and director of spiritual life at Heritage Christian Services.

“Now I am noticing what God does in my life; I am noticing the beauty he gives to me.”

It’s a refrain heard time and time again at local book discussion groups where strangers became quick friends as they dug into Voskamp’s poetic writing and questions, her struggles with anxiety and the death of her younger sister.

Laura Bates of Penfield, has been making it a point to write at least three things a day she is thankful for – most often on the “One Thousand Gifts” free app that she uses on her phone.

“I have multiple myeloma (treatable but not curable cancer) and I am finding ways to be thankful for the good this has brought into my life,” said Bates, who attended a book group led by Merrill. She’s thankful for “my closer relationship with God, my appreciation for my family and friends, the fact that I was diagnosed early and the wonderful advances in treatment for this disease over the last several years. Seeing the good in everything also releases you from anger and bitterness.”

For some, the book discussion group became a gift as well.

“People felt safe to share their stories,” said Joan Weetman of Brighton. “Discussions launched by literature can be very rich and personal.”

“My life will be different,” said Char Ipacs of Irondequoit. “I met some wonderful women…  I count each one of these women as one of my 1,000 gifts.”

And while Ipacs expected to learn about gratitude, she was surprised to find how much the book dealt with joy. But the two are inseparable, Voskamp said.

“This book – this really is a dare to fully live – to find joy, right where you are. Because the thing is too often we think joy is ‘out there’ around some elusive next corner. But remember eucharisteo, that Biblical Greek word for thanksgiving? Joy is embedded right in that word. Joy is a function of thanks,” Voskamp said. “If thanks is possible then joy is always possible.”

Thanks in hard times

But giving thanks isn’t always easy, said Benjamin Lipscomb, associate professor of philosophy at Houghton College.

“To be grateful is to acknowledge myself indebted,” he said. “And that is to acknowledge that I’m not self-sufficient, that I’m a receiver and not only a giver.”

Aristotle says that great people, in particular, love to be reminded of favors they’ve given but hate to be reminded of favors they’ve received, Lipscomb said.  Being givers can make us feel strong and superior.  Being receivers, or admitting that we are receivers, destroys illusions of self-sufficiency.

“We’re taught in the Lord’s Prayer to ask even for our food — presumably even if we have a pretty good idea where it’s coming from, and that there will be enough,” he said. “To ask is to put ourselves in the position of receivers, and to prepare to receive in gratitude. Of course, it’s harder to receive things in gratitude that we anticipate.  And harder still to receive things in gratitude that we see as rightfully ours.”

But Jennifer Hopper of Brighton will try, thanks in part to a passage in “One Thousand Gifts” where Voskamp describes keeping hands open to receiving God’s grace.

In all of the book’s pages, “The idea of a closed hand pointing to self and shutting out God is what I will remember most,” Hopper said.

And that hand must remain open, even in the toughest of times, said Merrill.

“Just within the past few weeks of Lent there have been fires, murders of innocents, run away children and drunk driving accidents,” she said. “In the midst of these overwhelming tragedies God is present.”

While God doesn’t orchestrate these events, he is present even when people make decisions that hurt each other, Merrill said. So, she can be grateful that he brings comfort, peace and wisdom, grateful that she can pray for grieving families and know that God is there with them in their suffering.

“I cannot change what I see, but I can change the way I see it,” she said.

That’s how gratitude worked in Voskamp’s heart, too.

“Counting gifts powerfully resurrected me, rose me to the possibility of beauty in places I wasn’t even looking. Awakened me to grace and loveliness in places and moments I was just speeding through, in this relentless hurry,” she said. “Counting gifts slowed me down and resurrected me to really, fully living – attentive and mindful to all the ways God loves me. It was like a budding, an unfurling.

“And once you’ve experienced fully living? You never want to go back.”

 

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