How can we offer comfort to others who are suffering?

Some people think that to be strong and manly you must be tough...perhaps "to toughen someone else up who is struggling with a trial that they don't know how to handle themselves." 

 They cannot possibly offer a kind and loving, empathetic word to someone who just needs to hear a comfortable word of encouragement. That's too bad ...because they are missing a chance to help someone else to see what they can't see on their own, and through their own pain: 

 
...Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.....

Oh!  and YES, of course we should turn to our Lord in times of trial, trouble, and grieving because, YES!!---He is the only one to help in times like this.  But those who we love, and love us, or those who just know us can offer comfort and encouragement and loving kindness instead of more heartache and sadness.


 

Meditation--Not Our Talents

Let us ever bear in mind...that we in this place are only then really strong when we are more than we seem to be.  It is not our attainments or our talents, it is not philosophy or science, letters or arts which will make us dear to God.  It is not secular favor, or civil position, which can make us worthy of the attention and the interest of the true Christian.  A great university is a great power, and can do great things; but unless it be something more than human, it is but foolishness and vanity in the sight and in comparison of the little ones of Christ.  It is really dead, though it seems to live, unless it be grafted upon the True Vine, and is partaker of the secret supernatural life which circulates through the undecaying branches.

"Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it." Psalm 127:1

Idle is our labor, worthless is our toil, ashes is our fruit, corruption is our reward, unless we begin the foundation of this great undertaking in faith and in prayer, and sanctify it by purity of life.

John Henry Newman

Meditation~Carrying Our Cross

Christ intends no man ever to carry the cross alone.  We cannot remind ourselves too often that our life in the Risen Christ is an interchange between us of his love.  In the power of his love in ourselves, we give to him in our neighbor.

There is nothing Christ asked for more urgently in his earthly life than sympathy, nothing he asks for more often and receives less often in those in whom his Passion is lived today in its deepest humiliations and derelictions.

There are too many "commonsense Christians" afraid to spend themselves on anyone from whom they do not get visible results.  They are ready with hard work for reform, they pour out good advice, they are proud to be realists who repudiate everything that seems to them to be impractical, including the poetry of Christ, but they have no use for those baffling human creatures who won't--or can't--play the game by their rules.  These "realists" refuse to see that there are problems which cannot be solved, griefs which cannot be healed, conditions which cannot be cured.  They are impatient with the suffering they cannot end; unable to accept its reality, they wash their hands of it, because they cannot, so they think, do anything about it.

But we cannot make an end of Christ's suffering, for as long as the world goes on, the Passion of Christ will go on in his members; and he will ask, not for his suffering to be mitigated, but for sympathy.  In Gethsemane Christ tried to awaken his Apostles, not because they could take away his agony, but because they could give him their compassion.

Meditation~Poverty

Poverty is born from the discovery that I belong to Another; I exist because I am loved in an individual way by Another:  My being is from first to last totally relative to Him, though not without the mystery of my freedom.

If I am the work of Another, nothing is mine, because everything is given to me by Him.  At the same time, however--here is the paradox--everything is mine because I have been given to know the purpose for which it exists, a purpose which Jesus revealed at the end of his life:

....That they might know you, Oh Father, and him whom you have sent (John 17:3)

It has been given to me, then, to know the great reason why God made the world.  But I have been also asked to live out every relationship and use everything while keeping this reason in mind.  This apparent paradox is the locus of the thrilling and fascinating secret of poverty.

Everything has been put into my hands for a positive purpose.  To live in the awareness of this fact means to live poverty.  Poverty, then, is not something that grinds man down, but something that lifts him up.  His relations with things acquire a lightness and a freedom that are otherwise unimaginable.  Poverty is the beginning of those "new heavens and new earth" of which Saint Peter speaks ( 2 Peter 3:13), the beginning of a truly human world.

Poverty cannot exist unless it is fed by hope, that is to say, by the certainty that we have been given what really counts in life and that no one can take it away from us.  Everything else is accessory and functional: whether you have a hundred books or one book, a hundred pieces of furniture or one, is not what is important.  The decisive thing is what we need in order to participate in the kingdom of God and to spread it in the world.  The point is not that everything else is no longer valuable.  It is just that its usefulness is measured in function of this goal.

So you see that poverty is freedom from things, the awareness that it is God who fulfills our desires. If I place the hope of my fulfillment in possessing a certain thing, I am no longer hoping in Christ, but in that thing.  If however, I hope in Christ who gives me that thing, then I am free of it.
~Bishop Massimo Camisasca, Diocese of Reggio Emilia-Guastalla, Italy.  Fra. Saint Charles Borromeo.

Western Wildflowers, late summer, early fall

I arrived and began acclimating to this altitude, and decided to pay close attention to valley wildflowers left over from a summer of bloom and drought-- classic in this valley.

Alpine wildflowers are so different, but each day I noticed more and more examples...some in full bloom and some with seed pods, past their prime and waiting for the first snow to come...

Beautiful blue-gray sagebrush that, after a rain, perfumes the valley with the aroma of wild sage; heady and pungent and distinctive.  not blooming but the fine seed heads are wispy and blow in the breeze.....

past its prime, but seed heads are beautiful...

 the seedheads are the beauty of what is left!...

tiny white starflowers...so delicate...in more ways than one way!

the remains after a cold night, just as delicate and beautiful as when it was in bloom.

on the West Bank of the Snake River, closer to our cabin and away from the arid valley we found more lush flowers, but still the same in many ways...tiny, delicate,

the classic nodding heads of the thistle plant....tough yet beautiful!  All of the plants in this high arid plains, with vast extremes in climate, struggle and succeed in their own beauty!

On another day we entered the lake area forest, another story,

Here we were warned of a recent attack on people in this beautiful forest by a calm and quiet lake

armed with bear spray and wearing our "bear bells" we walked through the deep forest in quiet and peace....

it was stormy and moody this day, but beautiful....

and the threatening grey skies gave way to blue skies and quickly moving, heavy white clouds.
The change of seasons has begun!

but the treasure lay deep in the woods on this day....luxurious and green, moist and rich.....

tiny jewels deep in the forest...

this is where my heart resides,  richly blessed and filled with the presence of God.

Living and Learning, Past Present and Future...

Living here...

I once had the greatest impatience for folks who came to this valley and didn't understand what this was all about here, on MY terms. I was filled with my own busy-ness and impatient with what I viewed as laziness and ignorance.  After all, I understood! So many people get off the plane, and play a match of tennis and wind up with a splitting headache that doesn't go away for the entire stay...

The climate here is tough, and the "air is thin" which is shorthand for the altitude makes for a dearth of oxygen for those who aren't acclimated.  Breathing is a basic need...here you have to try harder!  Seasonal activities are cold-weather-- October though May. It can snow in August in the high country.  My worst case of frostbite came at the end of August in Box Canyon; both of my feet were severely frostbitten...so badly injured that I could barely walk. My uncle Louis demanded to know why I was hobbling around the cabin after a  summer season on trips up high in the mountains.  I took my boots and socks  off so he could see my feet, and revealed the grayish white of the frostbite that had occurred weeks earlier. He nearly fell over in shock; incredulous that I would have waited so long!!  My feet recovered, thanks be to God!,  but I am left with a particular sensitivity to cold and a vulnerability to frostbite in the future.

I love it here.  There is no other place in the world I would rather be.  My heart and my very soul are here.  The best times are here, the most Love is here, the best memories from the past and present are here.  I can still go to the location of the cabins at the base of the Teton Range, directly at the base the Grand Teton mountain.  The property was sold to the government years ago and is a part of the National park now.  It was painful back then to see it sold, but now it is a good thing it was.  It isn't private property today, and I can go back and find the remnants of the driveway laid of river rock... back to the cabin foundations, which still stand among the cottonwood trees alongside Cottonwood Creek.  I can sit and listen to the soft flowing murmur of the creek and remember my father and grandfather and uncles stepping off the front porch to fish the waters ....coming back to the cabin with supper to be prepared and cooked over a log fire.  Everything was so simple then.

Last year, Jim brought me back to this valley and we knew that I was very seriously ill.  As we drove into the valley I wept at the thought that this might be the last time I would come back.  The tumor that had been found was taking all of my strength, my kidney function was impaired, and the pain was overwhelming, My right side was deadened and weakened from the effect of the tumor on my nerves and muscles.  Now I was humbled, and I learned some very tough lessons.  Last year, I experienced a dearth of oxygen.  I was unable to hike any of the trails I normally hike without effort, and so Jim took me out to the valley to walk the valley bike paths.  The bike paths are paved and flat with just a little bit of rise and fall.  I could not walk 100 yards on the bike paths without experiencing excruciating pain and low oxygen levels. I tried to fish the Firehole River, as we always do each year, up in Yellowstone.  I pulled on my waders and insisted on wading out into the river, only to find that because I couldn't feel my right side or lift my right leg, I was unable to get back to the riverbank on my own! 

God has always taught me lessons that I have needed to learn and He hasn't always taken the easy road to teach me.  But one thing is sure....The Lord has always been there for me, no matter how difficult, no matter how painful, no matter how frightening or impossible. When I have found myself at the most hopeless point, I can see how He has been there for me, how He has released me, how He has healed me, how He has provided the solutions and the way, the Path, to follow. He has humbled me again and again; and on occasion He has held up a great big mirror for me to look into, to see the answer that was there all along!

Jim brought me back here to this valley this year.  I am healing still, and almost whole again.  Surgery and rehabilitation have put me back together. The Lord has provided his healing hand through prayers from so many wonderful people who helped me through this ordeal. But there are lessons that I must remember. We have been here a week, and for the first 4 days oxygen levels were lower than average.  I had to take the time....the time that I criticized for others...to build my oxygen levels over time.  The first day we walked the flats 2 miles.  The second day 2.5 miles. The third day 4.5 miles on a trail up the mountain I had not been able to hike for 2 years!  The next accomplishment was a 10 mile bike hike....and I am gaining speed and endurance.  I have gained much of what I lost, and learned the lessons I needed to learn at the same time. Still,  I have a long way to go!

What about the future?  For Jim and for me, a five-year plan to relocate, ... is not a done deal. I found job opportunities here and was tempted, but now is not the time. Jim loves it here... but not as much as I do and not enough to throw everything away. There is a church family here, and a place to live, and so much work to do. How will we accomplish all that we need to make the dream reality?  Only God knows the way, and we leave it in His hands. It's one of the things I have learned, kneeling at His feet where I belong.

Sunday~Worship, and "Home"

In my childhood, with my grandmother, we often worshiped in this little chapel in the town of Moose, Wyo.  while my grandfather, my father and uncles would go to fish or hunt on Sunday mornings.  The men would also hunt and fish on almost every other morning too, leaving before it was light and returning in time for supper.  This little chapel, the Chapel of the Transfiguration, holds many blessed memories of the times in this valley.

Inside it is tiny, with handhewn pews of carved pine and a simple cross in front of the window over the altar, framing the mountains beyond.  The chapel is part of the Episcopal Church, and always has been a mission of St. John's Episcopal Church in the town of Jackson. It was built in 1925 and is the same today as I remember it as a little girl.  I can recall the times with my grandmother as we would prepare for service and drive from the cabin to the chapel, always sitting in the second pew  on the left, together. 
Simple wonderful times of worship in this place.

Things change, and we have become involved in another chapel South of the town of Jackson.  When we come back to the valley, I look forward to returning to worship in this church with these
wonderful folks.  The Chapel at River Crossing...

It is not part of the Episcopal Church, and it also not an Anglican Church.  In the beginning, Anglican liturgy was used for the early service and the second service was very contemporary, with Worship and Praise.  But that has changed once again, and their services are non-liturgical in style.  We begin with Worship and Praise, we greet one another at the Peace.  The sermon follows with scriptural teaching, and ends with the breaking of the bread and communion together.  What I have noticed is this:

the church is more modern and so much larger. But  beyond the altar which sits at the base of the  stairs made of huge pine logs, the cross is imposed on the lectern. Simple candles are lit, and huge pine logs frame the window. Outside is the scene of the mountain range and the beauty of the surrounding valley, just like at the Chapel in Moose.

We arrived late on Saturday night and were up and out very late that night.  But I could barely sleep anticipating our return to this church family.  Service was to begin at 8:45, and we were up at 6:30 to be there on time.  Walking in, I felt like I was coming home; it felt like we had not been away long at all.  It was so familiar and so good to be there.  The service started at nine, and I thought maybe the Pastor of our church would not be there.  Last year, his son-in-law Jason led the service.  After a long summer of worship, our Pastor Mike Atkins and his wife Patty were taking some time away.  This summer, the church had it's first theatre production, designed to draw visitors as outreach to the community.  I knew it was a busy season.  And I was prepared to miss our Pastor again this year.  He was nowhere in sight, and as we began to worship, Jason was leading worship and praise with the band.  And then I noticed that somehow Pastor Mike had slipped into his seat in the front row. Both Jim and I felt a Peace about this time in our church.  We truly had come "home" on this Sunday.

This is the church where I accepted God's will in my life, the Chapel at River Crossing.  Pastor Mike led deliverance that first year, and he called all of those members up to the altar who were prepared to surrender their own will to God.  I will never forget it, because I had been so opposed to the altar call.
I was looking for something back then, and Mike knew how to reach me.  And as I sat in my seat and listened to Mike Atkins speak about surrendering your own will, and calling God into your life, to be the all in all...I could not stop myself from approaching the altar, and kneeling before God, and accepting God's will as my own. What a great night that was.
And What a change that night has made in my life!

It was a great Sunday this past Sunday.  It was a blessing to see everyone again, to hear Mike's teaching, to worship with this wonderful congregation.  It felt like home.  It felt right.

As you leave the church, this message is carved above the entryway:  it means alot to see this!

HOME, where I DO belong. We will have several more Sundays with this church family.
We went off to town for breakfast after service, and met some folks in the parking lot who were also looking for Mike Atkins.  They said they were "Lost" and could we help them?"
We sure could.....they weren't lost at all.  They had found The Chapel at River Crossing, Pastor Mike Atkins, and his congregation.  Home at Last...Amen!