Yesterday the spirit of our dear dog, Max, passed out of his physical form. 

He was a fabulous dog -- I couldn't possibly have asked for more.

We hosted this good dog for 9 years. He lived to be 13 1/2 years old.

Here is a reflection I wrote earlier in the morning:

Goodbye dear dog, you fine, fine friend who came to live with us in June of 2005 -- a very special moment.

You are so fine a dog, a distinguished canine. 

Pure Radiant Being. 

How can we know we are loved? Experience it eagerly given by a dog.

Max greeted us with joyful enthusiasm, the way each person desires to be greeted. He made up for losses. He filled in gaps with Presence.

Now he knows the path to death: stop eating, stop drinking. Let the organs quit their labor. Just head toward the exit door. Face it and let it come to you. Be embraced by it. That's what he's doing. The exit door is love, too. 

We breath in love. 

We stop breathing in love.

It's love both ways.

My husband, Jonathan, and I have now entered the time when Max is living with us even more powerfully as a vibrant loving Spirit. Here is a story I wrote anticipating this time.


                                           The Dog who lives forever

So far, my dog Max has lived forever. A sort of new friend, a transient friend, gave him to us, so I never saw him small, as a new being on the earth. He just was. And now he just is. He is 13 years old.

Last night I took Max to my favorite vet. It was a hour long drive but worth it. She praises Max. She beams. I think she beams even when no one is in her office. Nevertheless, we got to see her beaming light as she examined our dog.

Neither my husband nor I had had a dog before Max. He is our first, and who knows, maybe our last. So all of this doggie stuff is new and we are trying really hard to be good “parents” to Max. At first I wondered how often Max needed to out to pee and poop. We worked hard to make a nice bed for him. Now, after years and years of adaptations, we have a sort of doghouse in our bedroom that he seems to like pretty well. He likes things cozy or at least I think he likes to be cozy. I wrap a lap blanket around him when I see him sleeping on my bed during the day and the window is open. I think he is cold. He might be perfectly happy. But I love to show him how much I love him by the care I give him.

You know, if Max does not happen to live forever, I know he will live forever in my heart.

February 22, 2014, the women of St. Luke Episcopal Church in Mechanicsburg, PA gathered to be renewed. 

The youngest participant is in her teens. The oldest perhaps in her 80's. 

A dancer graciously helped us to dance. We spread out into the den and bedrooms, hallway, and kitchen to work in pairs sharing parts of our journaling. 

The sun shone so brightly that day into the soft yellow of the living room where we sat. 

At the close, we selected a seed packet and a bag of dirt and seed pots. We are invited to pray with those things and continue to ponder the question -- What has God given me to tend this winter? 

Last night I reread Catherine of Siena's Use of Water Imagery in Selected Letters, paper I wrote nine years ago in graduate school. This morning I spoke with a friend who has been feeling very broken. I believe Catherine's spirit prepared me to encourage her.

Here is some of my reflection after studying those eight letters rich with water imagery:

When we look honestly at our utter poverty we see the outstretched arms of the Risen Lord who desires that we come to Him. We can trust the Lord Jesus with our broken lives in utter confidence that the Holy Spirit covers what is broken, what causes us shame, honoring every bit and has already begun the rebuilding process. 

In Catherine of Siena's writing, as in all wisdom literature, there is an unrelenting call to be made whole, to experience the mercy and love of God embracing our utter poverty. 

"New people are necessary. They see things to do that experienced people don't." 

While my daughter is traveling around the world this year, I too, am traveling a solo journey. Yes, my husband and I share this experience in some ways, and yet my experience of my daughter's courageous year of exploration is largely my own.

This morning I feel some sadness. I miss her and she assured me yesterday that the only city she would consider living in upon her return is the city she has been living in for the previous 8 years: San Francisco. She is not considering living anywhere on the east coast. If she does not return to San Francisco, she will not be returning to the USA.

San Francisco is a very long way from Mechanicsburg, PA. 

I miss her.

I have been thinking about grace. Maybe the grace allotted for today is a daily portion, like these raspberries I picked yesterday morning. They don't last for much longer than one day when stored in a glass container in my refrigerator. 
I picked them as soon as the field opened knowing it would be a very hot day. They were ripe and ready to be taken. 

As I filled my basket I heard several "pops" that the farmer sets off to scare birds away. 

Could it be that God's graces are for just today? Unique spiritual gifts to be taken in, eaten strengthening us for the day's challenges?

And does God work to keep those gifts in perfect condition to give to us, as the farmer works to protect his fruit?

Nehemiah 2:17

Then I said to them, ‘You see the trouble we are in, how Jerusalem lies in ruins with its gates burnt. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, so that we may no longer suffer disgrace.’



Isaiah 26.1:
On that day this song will be sung in the land of Judah:
We have a strong city;
   he sets up victory
   like walls and bulwarks.


Isaiah 49.16:
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;
   your walls are continually before me.


Isaiah 60.18:
Violence shall no more be heard in your land,
   devastation or destruction within your borders;
you shall call your walls Salvation,
   and your gates Praise.


I have been meditating on the image of ancient walls being rebuilt in order to protect something precious to human life and thus to God or I could say to protect something precious to God and thus to human life and to me.

The image is one that our daughter made of a ruin on the grounds of an organic farm where she lived and worked for most of one week in Italy. To me, it is beautiful, even in its ruinous state. And look at that rabbit inhabiting the space below the altar? How sweet is that?

What are you called to rebuild? What have you experienced in its broken state? Are you called to be a part of the rebuilding of those walls that could one day bring benefit to human kind and glory to God?

What is unintegrated can become toxic. This is why we do inner work and for me now, why I write.

True virtue is relational, it connects in life-giving way for both parties, one to another. Sometimes we misinterpret addictive behavior for virtuous behavior.

"When is the last time you tuned into your heart and listened for what it carries? The more we practice listening to the conversation in our own hearts, the better prepared we are to tune into others' hearts and listen for what their hearts carry. Moreover, being still, getting quiet and listening within increases our attunement to the voice that dwells deep in our hearts . . . . As we become more mindful of the conversation in our own hearts -- our joys, griefs, hopes and concerns -- we are more likely to speak the truth of our hearts and to listen for the voice of the true self yearning to be revealed in another's heart." (from Conversation: the Sacred Art-- Practicing Presence in an Age of Distraction by Diane M. Millis)

Diane gently directs us in our work as spiritual beings. Sometimes I think of spirituality as the intersection of psychology and theology. An encounter with God will be personal. But we have to be honest to hear the conversation going on deep inside. 

When I began listening, I was frighted. You may not be. I experienced God in the shadows and there found a priceless treasure, my true self, being held in God all this time.

What relevance do our feelings have? They are passing, aren't they? Always, changing. So what good are they? Our feelings instruct us in the quality of our relationships, which is one pathway to honest engagement in our lives.