Who would have thought that spending an afternoon inside on such a beautiful November day would yield such results the following morning.
Putting my house in order. Dusting, yuck. Rearranging furniture, placing it so that I can work and see the outside and enjoy a fire at the same time. Stacking books in cases, adding more to that which will be sold or given away. Plants coming inside for the winter.
Readying for winter?
Came across Bishop Steven Charleston's book Hope As Old As Fire. An amazing man, God has loaned us, as the Bishop would say.
Today's reading for November 11 (12th is not included). The reason for Grace.
When I was a child I thought of God as an old man, seated on a throne, making marks by my name. When I was in my twenties, God was a comrade in the struggle, calling us into the streets to demand an end to war. In my thirties God began to morph into Spirit, a mystic force of truth. In my forties God matured, a houseolder of heaven. Through my fifties God was Grandmother, ancient shource of wisdom, constant source of healing. Now crossing over sixty, I just smile.
I have changed. God has not.
We see the God we are.
Such is the journey for me.
In my youth, I could not bear to think of God as a man, looking like my father, so God had no face. But the mark maker was always around.
In my twenties, God was struggling along side of me, trying to be all that I should be. Daughter,wife, woman, independent. Feeling the pull to the left surrounded by right.
God was Sybill.
I was a late bloomer with God as spirit. Though wanting to participate in Contemplative Prayer my mind could never quiet down, the result of being bi-polar.
I became inspired by the Celts. Nature is my nurture and God was always around me.
Transforming! The power of creating from blank canvas, the empty back yard. Sixty years later and I still get a buzz from the seasons.
So, as you re-read Steven's message, who is God for you, now in this time, in this place?
In this heart?