A reason to be

"What's the point?! I'm nobody really! I'll never have enough money or be known enough to be a successful author or anything! I might as well give up my book!" These were my words shouted to my husband and the air as I left the house to go lead a contemplative song circle this afternoon. What a joke! I was in no mood to be contemplative or lead others in prayerful singing! I tried to calm myself as I drove to my destination. The irony of it all had a sting to it! No one showed up to sing! I couldn't help but add this to my list; I wasn't good enough for this either. It truly was a "feel sorry for myself" moment. Sigh!

I decided to play some chants on the CD player while I made sure no one would show. And as I listened to the words..."Oh, I open to you," and "Let go, God is All" my frustration faded. And then came the words, "Darkness, Silence, with no light to be seen, help me believe you are with me God.". Note by note, word by word, I re-membered why I wanted to lead the contemplative singing. I remembered why I love meditation and prayer and silence.

Being with the Holy One in close conversation gives me reason to be, to just be. God instantly wrapped arms of love around my worn heart and gently whispered into my tired mind..."you are loved! I will love you forever!" For a moment I got all excited about the next time I get to share this practice of meditation with others. Songs from everywhere came pouring out my mouth.

After forty minutes I decided I had waited long enough and found my center. I packed it all up and went home, grateful now that no one had come. It gave me time to be with the Beloved. It gave me a reason to be.

Once I got home, I went back to the struggle of whether to play the game or give up the fight to be successful at anything. I seemed to need to rant a little more about how unfair life is and then I heard the chorus again..."Let go, God is all!" I heard the whisper, "just be, it is enough." I wish I could tell you there are no doubts in me but I can't. I can tell you that the whisper of the Holy One makes me breathe much easier than the reason of the world's success.

 So, I'm going to sleep in those arms and take up my struggle another day.

Peace, jules

I AM

I was raised by conservative Norwegian American Lutherans who were both born before 1920. They were wonderful loving parents with a wide variety of interests, talents, and skills. Both were musical so they shared that and other passions with us. In contrast, it was against etiquette and proper Christian living in their eyes to express yourself in anyway that would hint of pride or self worth. Whew! 53 years later it is still sometimes a struggle to say out loud who I am and what the gifts are that i am so eager to share. One of those gifts is writing. Just last week I self-published my first book (see previous posts for links). Selling it is a completely different ball game. so today, in effort to begin breaking through that barrier I offer the following declarations...

I AM A WRITER…a poet, a publisher...I love words!

I AM A PHOTOGRAPHER,…sketch artist, graphic design...I love colors!

I AM A SPIRITUAL DIRECTOR...holy listener, loving friend...I love being with you in the search for truth!

I AM AN ORGANIZER…office worker, mom...I love order!

I AM A MISSIONARY KID...Malagasy, French, Norwegian, world traveler...I love meeting people from all over the world!

I AM A SINGER...choir, song circle, hospice choir, voice lessons, song leader...I love singing in harmony with others!

I AM A MOTHER...raised 4 boys, stayed home full time with them...I love to reach my arms out wide to any soul who needs a soft place to land; i am one!

I AM A FRIEND...tea, wine, retreats, backyards, dancing, walking, laughter, play...Ilove the joy of being together!

I AM A VOLUNTEER..The Dragonfly Project, Christos, Morning Star Singers, Habitat for Humanity,...I love helping others while expressing my passion and gratitude!

I AM A PRAYER...writing, labyrinth, meditation, movement, song, silence...I love being in the presence of the holy one!

I AM JUST A GIRL hoping to be who i am in a way that makes a difference without getting in the way of others finding their way.

I AM GRATEFUL.

I AM JULES.

A Winter Lament

I hate this part of the cycle,
This season of echoes,
Emptying out, being left behind,
Forgotten, aging but not old,
Not in shape, not fit for fun,
Just going through the motions,
Not dying and not living,
Isolated, longing to not be,
To not feel so worthless, so unimportant,
Naked, cold, pale, waiting,
Waiting for inspiration, for color,
For the  phone to ring or wisdom to call,
Not dead but not bearing fruit,
Longing for the robin to land on my outstretched arm,
Clinging to each ray of sun like child's blankie,
Thirsty for music to fall on my heart,
Hungry for the laughter of friendship,
I hate winter.

My book will be available to all soon! Stay tuned!

This photo was taken from high up the gorgeous Mount Shasta in Northern California 

on a cool October evening in 2011 while hiking with my dear sister.

I dedicate this picture to you Vangie! Love you so much! ~jules

CAN WE SEE EACH OTHER FOR WHO WE REALLY ARE?

I don't believe in discrimination of ANY KIND! I repeat...ANY KIND! (even the kind that I catch myself doing) If you believe in a judging discriminating God then leave it up to God to do that. And if you believe in an everlasting, loving and graceful God, you can use your energy/time to open your arms wide and welcome each stranger as a treasured guest. I'm not asking you to re-post. I'm asking you to look into someone's heart before you judge.

Why I LOoove Christmas!!

Tomorrow is January 7, 2012 and we will at last have Christmas with our kids. While most of you are saying, "I'm so glad it's over!," for us Christmas is tomorrow. And I can't wait. I love Christmas! And not because I will get everything I want but because it is a time when I've acquired deep joy in my family's identity and my own values. Here are Christmas memories I'd like to share with you.

Imagine, it is Christmas Eve.

Story #1: The setting is a small town in southern Minnesota.

Some arrive early to help set things up and then ALL go to candlelight worship at the small church to sing and cry as the story touches us once more and then it's time to party at my mother-in-law's house. Picture it with me......smiles on every face, laughter all around, some wearing jeans and t-shirts, some wearing pretty red, bare feet, stocking feet, shoes, young old, single, married, kids, no kids, and dogs every where....each person who walks through the door is greeted with hugs as they hand over the "dish" they've brought to add to the feast....we barely get through the door and someone is already striking up a conversation, "how are you? did you get the job? how is your foot?" ...the caring isn't a political or social put-on, this is real....they really want to know how you are....we usually sit at two tables because we can't fit on one...this means that before we gather in  the big circle for songs, readings and presents, we have to clean up and take one of the tables down...there are a few tense moments as we wait for some late-comers but all is quickly forgiven as we move forward...we didn't come here to create tension....we came for peace...finally in the big circle we sing and listen to the Christmas story one more time...then on with the White Elephant game...everyone wins because it is so much fun...the evening ends with people just talking and laughing and sharing more with each other....the game has done its job; giving us all a break from taking our gift-giving too seriously.  This is Christmas with the Bonde family, the family  I fortunately married into 30 years ago. And this is why I love Christmas!

Story #2: The setting is  Madagascar, the island off the east coast of Africa where I grew up. My parents have driven down to our boarding school about a week before to see our huge Christmas program and then drive us back home with them.

There is no candlelight service and no big shows or things to go to. We start the day by making a huge amount of lefse. I remember helping flip them on the grill as young as five years of age. When we became teens we got to learn how to mix them and roll them out....no fancy equipment, no recipe, just our hands and our hearts and a little creativity. We eat a good dinner at noon knowing that in the evening we will get to eat as many lefse as we can handle. This is part of the Chritmas treat. The afternoon is filled with wrapping presents and whispers behind closed doors as the children plan the evenings "program." The tree always seems full with packages under it, though we have no store to shop at. The tree is beautiful though no douglas firs or Minnesota pines are available on this tropical island. AT last everyone is ready.

We begin the evening with a little lefse. My dad prays for blessings on our evening. Then we kids put on little Christmas pageant dressed in bathrobes and whatever we've found around the house to be Mary & Joseph and baby Jesus. The shepherds look very much like the wise men. Mom and Dad are amused and touched and applaud our efforts. Then we sing Christmas carols. And then Dad reads the Christmas story from start to finish out the Gospel of Luke. Then its time for presents. The youngest person in the room which was usually me, got to hand them out. I was so proud to have this job. it gave me so much pleasure. And then when all is handed out, we open them one at a time so that everyone gets to enjoy every gift. THe gifts are mostly homemade stuff, something sewn or crocheted, or made out of wood and nails int he shop. They are gifts filled with the joy of giving. And that's what we take into our dreams on that night; the joy of giving. And that's why I love Christmas!

Story #3: Not Christmas Eve but a day or two later...The scene is our home in Northeast Minneapolis, circa 1996. We have four young boys ages two to ten. It's December 26 or 27th. We've already spent Christmas Eve at the Bonde household as in Story #1. And now it is time for our own celebration.

I start the day by making frosting while Pete and the boys are busy wrapping presents. I usually have mine already wrapped by this time. I pick 3 or 4 of the brightest and prettiest colors I can find for the frosting. Then I dig out all of my cake decorating equipment and get out the cake that has been baked the day before. When all is ready, I call the boys to come and decorate Jesus' Birthday cake. They get to decorate however they want to which usually ends up being this delightful pile of colors and sprinkles and old candles from all their birthdays. and then we light the candles and sing happy birthday to Jesus. No one really cares that much about eating the cakes.

Then we move on to playing games. We dig out some board game and play for awhile. Or we introduce the boys to a new game that they haven't heard of. As the boys grew, they made up their own games. and then we sing some Christmas carols. WE've been practicing them during Advent so the boys are familiar with them. The favorite is Hark the Herald ANgels Sing. Then we read a story about Christmas or giving. Since the older boys know how to read, one of them gets to read something too.

AT last it is time for presents and this is my favorite part. Fromt he beginning Pete & I decided that the person who bought the gift should give it. So we start with the youngest. He picks one of his gifts from under the tree and gives it to the person he wants to. AFter the gift is opened, that person picks a gift to give to someone else. and so we go one at a time until all are opened. The boys enjoy watching the gifts they've bought be opened and they enjoy opening their own. And often when they are all opened, we go back to playing games. And that's why I love Christmas!

TAKE HEART IN THE NIGHT

Rejoice, rejoice, take heart in the night,

Though dark the winter and cheerless,

The rising sun shall crown you with light,

Be strong and loving and fearles;

Love be our song and love our prayer,

And Love our endless story,

May God fill every day we share,

And bring us at last into glory.

~Marty Haugen

Dear friend, 

          I pray you feel the Light, the LOVE rising within you even in your darkest moment.

                                                                                    love, jules

Encourage Courage

Encourage Courage

Comfort Serenity

Feel Grace

Dream Being

Remember Truth

Taste Love

Soothe Light

Brave Change

Forgive Expectation

Transform Eternity

a recipe of logic and intution

music is that moment
when science laughs
intuition grounds itself
in the logic of rhythm and vibrations
while the composer sculpts
wisdom from random frequencies
the strong wild truth of
deep emotion within
transforms the data
with profound fiery beauty
into a song

TREE THOUGHTS ON TRANSFORMATION

I have been learning about transformation from the ancient teacher, mother earth. In this time of re-modeling my life as the house empties, as I am looking for meaningful and sustainable occupation, I find nature to be full of wisdom.

Upon on close inspection I discover that not all the leaves on the trees change at once. Sometimes only one section of the tree has turned red; the rest is still green. Sometimes half the tree has changed and it is evenly distributed throughout the bush. A few flowers open early in spring and a few find the late autumn a better time for blooming. Nature knows about the fickleness of change; how it can't happen all at once. Mother Earth knows that as we keep turning and changing our perspective, things are bound to change within our hearts as well.

The trees remind me to not be discouraged if the maple next to me has already turned orange and I am still green. My time too will come. Likely I will burn brightest and display my deepest hues right before it all falls away.

MAKING IT REAL

October 10, 2011(I am a day late but I'm going for it anyway)

Over the weekend, my second son, Karl, stepped up to his 25th birthday and to his life by participating in Occupy MN, a movement to protest against Wall Street and the corruption of our culture from the buying and selling of money. I can't even pretend to address all the complexities of the issues facing our youngest adults these days. Karl, his brothers and their friends are coming of age in a time when the present and future of the national and world economy is dismal. The USA has been at war as long as my son can remember. Unemployment is rampant. This is a time when almost everyone is dissatisfied with the status quo. It can be disheartening and depressing. With increasing frequency, we hear each other say, "if only I had more time and money..." Yet I find hope.

Twenty-five years ago yesterday, Karl was born at sunrise. By the time we got him home from the hospital Karl was already fairly determined to orchestrate things so the family would stay together. He was born with a huge heart and a sensitive soul. From day one, he would not take naps unless he could be in the room where everyone else was. He just wanted the family to be together and seemed to keep finding ways to get us there.

From day one it was pretty clear that Karl had a deep love for people; especially young vulnerable ones. It wasn't long before we realized Karl had a gift for taking care of children. He was two years and nine months when his brother Hans was born and right away he had knack for knowing how to settle him down when he was fussy and how to play with him without hurting him. As he grew, wherever he went, toddlers would find their way into his arms and his gentle attention. It is not surprising to me that he is now a nanny for two families. Any child would be lucky to have him for caregiver and a friend.

From day one it was also clear that Karl loved the earth, especially animals. Over the years, he seemed to attract all kinds of animal books and when he figured out to use a camera, he took to taking pictures of critters wherever he could find them. Through his eyes, i have a whole new appreciation for the presence of squirrels in my yard. amazing creatures! Beautiful.

Karl's love for the earth, the animals and the world has only grown and now I see a young adult poised, ready and already jumping in with two feet to live a life that expresses his love. When Karl and his bride Erica got married this summer, they invited their beloved creatures and earth as well as family to stand witness to their vows as they stood with their bare feet on sand only inches from the water in Devil's Lake, WI. In keeping with their theme, they spent their honeymoon meeting monkeys and macaws in the rainforest of Costa Rica. Over the years, Karl's amazing photos of creatures have grown into the thousands.

By this far in to my ramble, you're either sighing with a big "awwww" or you're disgusted with all the sentimentality and are ready to give up. I hope not. This does not end with passion and sentimentality. I bring all that up just to show where it begins.

And Karl is not unique. Karl, ERica, Karl's brothers and friends and others like them are already making it real. To care for the environment and live as healthy as possible they have taken up vegan diet. They buy local foods as much as possible. They ride bike to work, to play and to the store. They have a car but drive it only when absolutely needed. AFter only a couple months of marriage they have already made several trips to the thrift store to keep their possessions to a minimum and share their wealth. They try to conserve water by flushing their toilet with bath water left in the tub. They each have two or three part-time jobs and still don't get a full 40-hr week. And they are happy. This gives them time to just be. They are ready to live with less to show that life can be better than spending it in service to the next paycheck. They are ready to make choices that create loving, supportive community that provides for everyone's needs and not just a few.

Yesterday, Pete and I spent the afternoon with Karl and Erica. The converstation revolved around these topics. It is hard brain work and hard soul work to move past the conversation to actually changing the world toward healing. THe morning after I find myself thinking that Occupy  Mn, Occupy Wallstreet may not be just another protest for a new generation. It might be more of movement to living in hope instead of complaining. I don't know all the issues or all the nuances of them. I encourage you to listen, to read, to talk with your friends and neighbors and ask these questions. CAn we live with less? Could we move to a community consciousness where we meet the basic needs of everyone so that more time can be spend in gratitude and joy and less in whining and despair? Could we use dirty laundry water to flush a toitlet? Could the current unemployment rate be a chance to move to a 4-day work week? Could we become more self-sustaining in our living? more conscious in our choices?

Are we ready to make our passions real?

(PS. Happy Birthday Karl! and thanks!)

we stood together watching the sunset

i came just to be in her presence

she goes so deep and reaches so high

her grooved wrinkles and 

widening torso show her age

and yet she stands there--

steady--faithful--with love

i know i can count on her to remind me

age doesn't change beauty

life is about being connected

joy comes
from letting the light come through

she is always so regal standing there

love grows between us each time we meet

and sunsets will shine forever

i hope there will always be

one more time to stand there 

up on the hill

with that grand old oak

Note: if you're feeling lonely, feeling blue or just feeling lost in wonder, wandering, find a tree. 

Blessings to all you tree lovers,
jules

Keep me from drowning!

 35 years ago, I left the island of Madagascar (my birthplace and childhood home) for the last time. I have never been back. I miss it so much.!

My dad died 25 years ago on August 4, 1986. Two months later I had my 2nd child, another beautiful boy! And then I had two more boys, 2 1/2 and 5 years later. My dad missed a lot! and I miss him still.

Almost 11 years ago, my son Hans died at age 11 1/2. He has missed a ton and we have missed him with grief as big as the Grand Canyon.

Four years ago, my mother died (21 years after dad). She had dementia the last 10 years of her life. She was unable to converse the last 5 years.  I started missing her before she was even gone. I still miss those wonderful conversations we would have.

In between, these huge losses and other smaller ones, I would have to say I have had soooo many reasons to rejoice in God's amazing and miraculous abundance. Friends show up mysteriously right when I need them most; people who should be dead aren't; health is restored after surgery or acupuncture; my sweet husband and I have been happily married for 30 years; my grown children all live within an hour of my house. I have so much to be grateful for.

But loneliness can hit you between the ribs faster than a professional boxer can sucker punch you. It comes washing over me like I am caught under the crash of the wave and just like some piece of drift wood, I am tossed and turned and stirred up until I land back on the beach. It is overwhelming how incredibly deep those lost relationships go, all the way to the center of the earth; the core of my soul. So even after all the healthiest grieving I could imagine, I am sometimes still caught by how alone each one of us is; how incredibly exhausting and sad it is to feel that in our bodies. It brings to mind the lyrics to a song my son Hans learned by heart when he was only 10...before he had a clue what would happen to him. 

These lyrics hit home for me at this moment as I, for the hundredth time, find myself churning under another wave of grief that for a second weighs on me and then releases me of the burden. I am very grateful that my young son left me with this reminder that others too know this feeling of being lost in the waves and exhaustion of the flood. When the song is over and the tears have passed, I am grateful for my very dear, friend who repeats my own words back to me; reminding me that the grieving also honors those deep, deep relationships that have meant and still mean so much to me.  We only weep over that which has found its way into our hearts.

So I offer these lyrics up to you dear reader and pray that they both honor your moment of sadness and fear and also offer the assurance that you are not alone in this. I am here too. Many are here ready to wrap their arms around and welcome you in.

“Flood” lyrics by Jars of Clay

Translation in progress. Please wait...

Rain, rain on my face
It hasn't stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud

Chorus:

But if I can't swim after forty days
And my mind is crushed by the thrashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up - when I'm falling
Lift me up - I'm weak and I'm dying
Lift me up - I need you to hold me
Lift me up - Keep me from drowning again

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/j/jars+of+clay/flood_20069959.html ]
Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I'm losing control
Dark sky all around
I can't feel my feet touching the ground

[Chorus]

Calm the storms that drench my eyes
Dry the streams still flowing
Cast down all the waves of sin
And guilt that overthrow me

[Chorus]

Lift me up - when I'm falling
Lift me up - I'm weak and I'm dying
Lift me up - I need you to hold me
Lift me up - Keep me from drowning again

Watch the Flood video on YouTube

Sending you hope,

jules

Another Day of Loving

Hello my dear friends,

After a long hiatus, I am finally drawn back to the page to contemplate and ruminate about all that it is...on the surface and the depth. I confess I got the idea of surface and depth from today's reading from "The Book of Awakening" by Mark Nepo. In it, he talks about how the surface and depth of the ocean are inseparable, how what happens in the depths affects the surface and vice versa; how the stillness makes the depth more transparent; how a storm on the surface can churn things up and make the depth murky and unseeable.

So here I am. Gentle breezes play with the leaves of the silver maple while the sun teases the grass through the gaps in the shade. Sparrows chirping in the vine on the fence are backed up by jets flying overhead and the occassional car passing by. To the person who lives out in the country or is sitting in a canoe in the Boundary Waters (BWCA), this is noise. To the woman whose son just got married and who has her first quiet day in months, this is stillness and silence. I resisted the silence at first; choosing instead to busy myself with doing the crossword puzzle in the paper, then cleaning up after yesterday's Dragonfly Project event, then washing dishes and straightening up the living room. At last I gave in to the call. I gathered up my tea, my book and headed out to the stillness of my patio. And here I am.

A simple little tune from Song Circle rises within me, "Wake at dawn with a winged heart, wake a dawn with a wing-ed heart, give thanks, give thanks, for another day of loving." The words from Kahlil Gibran bring tears from my depth. I am still at last and suddenly my depth feels easier to be with, easier to see and know. The tears feel good; a sign that I am fully present to the Spirit within me and around me; a sign that I am alive. Give thanks for another day of loving. Yes, even after all the guests have gone home, even after the party is over and the new couple is off on their honeymoon, even after the death of a precious father-in-law and the struggle to get healthy, there is much to be in love with. 

This is another day to love; another day to let what happens on the surface stir our soul; another day to let what we know deep within us to be expressed in our words or our step. This is another day to take in the sacrament of fresh air, to wonder at the color of strawberries, to sing with the birds or bark with the dogs. This is a day to love the connection between us and all that is. 

Right now, I am grateful to have the option, the chance to have feet planted securely on the ground, to open my heart to all that is right here, to love who I am and who you are as we dance and work and stumble and get back up. I am just grateful to be alive and have another day to love you, my dear friends and family. And I give thanks for the stillness when i can see into your depth and mine and know our love with more strength and intimacy than ever before. 


sending my love your way,


jules

I Pray

I sing
I shout
I chant and pout
I run in place
I sit still
I look in your face
I pray

I write
I dream
I beg and scheme
I ponder
Take pictures
Gaze all around me in wonder
I pray

I stretch
I dance
I take a chance
I work as I hum
Touching to heal
I play the drum
I pray

I cry
I doubt
Try to work it all out
I fight the disease
Breathing deep
I fall on my knees
I pray

I balance
I walk
Try to walk the talk
I circle round
Taking a step
I hope peace can be found
I pray

I search
Turn the pages
I read the wisdom of the ages
Sink into this place of thought
Want to be free
I try to do what I ought
I pray

I live
I love
Thinking on the things above
I dance and paint
I let go
I look to the saints
I pray

I bow
I stand
I play in the band
I hang with the crowd
walk a lonely path
I sing praises out loud
I pray

I listen
I meditate
Let the spirit agitate
I hope my heart
laugh as we share
be in the present
show how much I care
I pray

by Julie A. Bonde, 1/29/11

Sometimes I try to Give Words to the Sunrise

Sometimes I try to give words to the sunrise

It’s like trying to photograph the ocean

My words cannot truly pay homage to the abundance of the light

The exquisite joy of leaving the darkness behind to begin anew

Just as my picture cannot gather in the wide expanse of water

On the horizon of the sea where the edge of earth meets sky

And yet in this sudden glorious moment of dawn

I have this gnawing desire to capture the moment of wonder

The blazing fiery colors echoing across the sky and my heart

In my greed I want to hold on to richness of it all

I want to frame the picture on my wall

And carry it with me through the daily walk

But words fail me and photographs are a poor imitation

Sometimes I want to write a song that explains

How abundant Love is, how deep and wide and everlasting

The Spirit is all around us each and every moment

I can’t reach my arms wide enough or cry hard enough

My laughter only can tease you with hints

I want to wrap it up and give you this gift I know is possible

And then I look into the smiling eyes of the elderly

Hear the laughter of the children playing

Taste the sweetness of the mango dripping down my chin

Watch the squirrels at play outside my window

Touch the extreme softness of a hard mountain rock

Feel the healing in the music of friendship

And I know that words and pictures are not necessary

the light is too abundant and there is no holding on

The sunrise in my heart
the love felt so deeply within
The everlasting song

Will be found wherever I go

Jules

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Paying It Forward

It looked like just a piece of plastic when he first saw it. Pete could easily have missed seeing it. After all, he had plenty to think about on his way to catch the bus to work that morning. It could easily have been hidden by the piles of snow. He just happened to glance that direction and there it was.  He reached down to pick it up. As he turned it over the word iPod caught his eye. “Someone is really going to miss this!” he thought. “I wonder…” his thoughts trailed off as he examined the phone. Once on the bus, he had a better chance to look at it. It was wet from the snow and it didn’t look safe to turn it on. At first he wondered how he would return it if he couldn’t see who owned it. Later in the day, he finally was able to get it on. It took some investigating but he was able to find out that it belonged to a young girl, Debbie (not her real name). He was able to find the phone number of the girl’s father. “That’s what I’ll do!” he smiled to himself, as his plans for returning it began to form.

The second he walked in the door from work that afternoon, he couldn’t wait to tell his wife and show her the iPod. “I’m gonna make somebody happy tonight!” he told her with a big grin and light beaming from his eyes. He couldn’t wait to begin the process, hoping to return the iPod to its young owner. He called the number he found and talked to the dad. As he told the story, the dad got choked up. The father was so relieved to hear that it was found. He said his daughter Debbie had gotten it for Christmas just a couple weeks ago and was devastated that she lost it as she ran to catch the school bus that morning. They had no hope of finding it. But Debbie was not with her father that day so he gave Pete the phone number for Debbie’s mother.

It wasn’t Debbie’s mother who answered the phone but Debbie herself. Pete asked her, “Have you lost something today?”

With deep emotion her young voice said in disbelief, “Really?”

Pete asked again, “What did you lose today?”

Again in disbelief, she shakily uttered, “you found my iPod?”

“Yes,” was his reply.

“Do you want to talk to my mom?” She asked. She put her mom on the phone. Pete told Debbie’s mom how he found the iPod and where. Then he gave her directions so they could come pick it up.

Before he hung up the phone he added, “I want your daughter to remember this experience and pay the kindness forward to someone else some day.”

When the doorbell rang, Pete was expecting Debbie’s mother along with Debbie but the girl had come to the door alone.

“Thank you, thank you thank you…” she began, expecting to just get the iPod and then pay Pete for his kindness.

But Pete had other plans. “I want you to remember this incident” he said. “In the future I want you to pay it forward to help someone else.”

He picked up the iPod and gave it to her. She began to hand him a twenty dollar bill. He pushed it away and pulled out an envelope.

“You keep it and this is what I want you to do. This is your homework. I want you to go to this website on this envelope and look it up. I want you to read about it. The Dragonfly Project is important to me. You read about it and then I want you to take this money and send it to the Dragonfly Project.”

Debbi, gratefully turned to return to her mom waiting in the car, repeating “Thank You!” over and over again. She was about eleven years old, the age of Pete’s son when he died of brain cancer ten years earlier. Pete’s son was the reason The Dragonfly Project was started by another eleven year old eight years ago. Pete doesn’t own an iPod but he knows deeply what many of us don’t; that everyone deserves a second chance; even careless eleven-year-olds. He also knows that eleven-year-olds can make a difference; a difference that makes the world a better place.

This man Pete, happens to be my husband. I’m a lucky woman. Hans was our lucky son. And now Debbi is another young person lucky enough to have met him.

I invite you to consider Pete’s challenge with me. What if the next time someone in our life makes a stupid mistake, we offer them our kindness and then remind them to pass it on? We all make stupid mistakes every day; lost keys, errors in judgment and work; say the wrong things to our good friends. How about if instead of blame and shame, we think of a way to pay a kindness and then invite people to pay it forward? It couldn’t hurt and it might just work.

Epilogue: The Dragonfly Project was started by Anne Brooker in 2002 when she was eleven, to send condolence cards to people who are grieving. You can find out more at http://www.dragonflyproject.org

Do the Write Thing or Write vs Right

I’ve been trying to do this one thing ever since I was born or at least ever since I can remember consciousness. I’ve been trying to do the right thing. For a huge chunk of my childhood I thought I was pretty damn good at it, although a child who is doing the right thing doesn’t use words like damn...at least not in my community of origin. And by “right” I mean I followed all the rules, kept my mouth shut, listened carefully, worked hard to make my parents proud and as much as possible didn’t rock any  boats. Looking back on my childhood, I can’t think of any boats that tipped over, real or metaphorical, due to my rocking. And this served me well for my childhood, for the most part. 

And yet, as I look back, I was drawn toward doing the “write" thing from the start as well. My dad used to tell the story of how on my first day of life he held me up to his shoulder for a cuddle. He was wearing one of those collared work shirts with stuff in the front pocket. When he pulled me away and lifted me with arms stretched out, I had grabbed a letter out of his pocket and was still gripping it. My baby book says that Dad thought I might be a writer some day. Maybe instead of a pastor he was psychic. Did he really know me that well on my first day? It turns out he wasn’t wrong.

Doing the right thing got old really fast when I went from being a deep-thinking child to a deep-thinking teenager. That’s when I discovered being right and doing right can’t guarantee happiness. And that’s when writing first became very clearly the right thing for me to do. Writing in a journal kept me out of trouble and brought me a lasting friend, myself. Writing also got me the grades I wanted and gave me a chance to do something to contribute to the community. I edited my first news letter when I was 15. I loved it.

In between those first gratifying write moments and now I lost my way a few times, falling off the writing(journals are your best friend) path and getting back on the righting (that is tip no boats) path. It has never stopped being a struggle for me to want to do the right thing, sometimes at great cost to my happiness. Those are hard lessons to learn but the doing-it-right path is not a righting place for me. It is a self-deprecating place. In contrast, if I just write, just give myself to the words and the spirit, yes spirit that flows through them, I find I do more right than not. Writing brings me joy and others a perspective they haven’t considered. Sometimes writing exposes the dream within and sometimes it invites color and laughter. It is so clear to me now that the right thing for me is to write.

So now, I stand looking toward a new year, which is only a few weeks away. On an almost daily basis I am reminded that life is short, that it is not worth it to waste time trying to do the right thing. On an almost daily basis, I find a write thing to do and it centers me. It seems there is only one right thing to do. And that is, find more time to write and share that writing and less time to think about being or doing anything else.

The Scrap of Paper

It's just a scrap of paper. It's nothing.

It's just a mix of tree pulp made into paper

Wrapped around more paper

torn and then crumpled up in my hand

It's nothing. But on it is a reminder

Nothing but a still small voice

to remind you

Who you are and whose you are

Read it; for a moment remember

Close your eyes

Breathe in deeply a couple times

Imagine yourself wrapped in the One

The force of Love that is woven throughout creation

and is wound around your DNA

creating the amazing color,

the brilliant fragrance

the generous heart that is you

Remember who you are

The Great One whispers

You are mine and you are enough!

Amen.

©2008 Julie A. Bonde

 

The calm after the storm is gratitude sinking into your bones--Hallelujah

Sometimes a storm comes and hits
Before we have even a clue that it is brewing
Sometimes even when we see the huge wave coming
We cannot out run it in time to get away
And so it is with the emotions
Anger, sadness, frustration, fear,
Unpredictable and strong, they wash over us
Catching us up in the chaos and mess
We wonder how we could be so gullible
How we could get so carried away
What possessed us to let a  little storm get the better of us
But we are gullible, we do get carried away
Because we do care how things turn out
And so it is that the storm passes
A few branches knocked out of place
Perhaps some dents in the car
We walk around, amazed at the energy
The power that love can have over us
We are tired from being swirled around by the tides
And a deep sense of peaceful calm rises in us
We drink in the satisfaction of surviving
The beauty of life when the grime has been washed away
Then gratitude sinks into our very bones
Fills our every cell
And the next wave is Joy!
Hallelujah! Amen!

Panic

Here it comes again! that "life is short" slap,
That "What if" PANIC
Chest is tight. My stomach is tied in knots.
Heart won't stop pounding.
Body hurts, Soul is weary
I'm in panic mode....feel like I'm falling apart, feel like I have failed yet again.

How is it that I keep reaching out to love and end up hurting you and me?
How can I show you that when you stub your toe, mine aches?
That when you hide away, I suddenly am missing a piece of me?
I don't know what to do. I can't make the aching stop.
And if I don't make it stop,
I will be hurting you yet again as you feel my pain.
Oh the cruel joke of fear! None of it is based on truth and
yet we all believe it so readily.
I want to scream that LOVE can't be gotten rid of so easily.
I want to shout that I LOVE you with all my heart
Please don't leave just yet,

My hands are shaking; my resolve is too,
What happened to that warrior princess I was just
a day or two ago,
the one who conquered doubt with bold defiance?
the one who was sure she could handle anything?
My body falls limp with the thought
of the overwhelming list of what must be done
to be well, to recapture health and well-being
But life is to short not to try

I am pleading now with God
To let you be so happy that
Sorrow no longer touches you.
so that pain no longer lives in you
I am pleading for you life to be filled with beauty
I know it is a selfish plea
your happiness will increase mine
But I ask for it still

And I am pleading for my own well-being
Body is falling apart at the seams
Buttons flying and zippers getting stuck
Hurting from toe to crown
Hip is out, bursitis has set in, palms sweaty,
I'm pleading for skilled healers to come my way
for enough courage and strength to climb this mountain
for the jewels to be revealed in this darkness
Please catch me when I jump
Please hold me when I let go
Please give me one more chance
to breathe peace and beauty into the world

And then I let go, tears streaming down my face
and through the miracle of LOVE
your awkward faith catches me as I fall
My messy heart celebrates your light amidst the pain
Your tenderness and bravery in holding me
Lifting me up once again
As you and I each take the next step
On this journey we call LOVE.

(footnote: some days are just like this...Panic, Pain, and Peace all dancing together between your heart and mine, between Joy and Fear, because life is short.  And so it is...jules)

Beauty, Body and Being

Let the beauty you love be what you do. ~ Rumi

I was recently at a retreat center with a circle of women up north nestled in the wonderful Minnesota woods. This quote was on the chalkboard by the door to the dining room. It excites me, it soothes me, it celebrates me and it challenges me.

The topic of bodies also came up in a number of ways even though our intent for the weekend was quite spiritual in nature. It is inescapable that we are body, mind, and spirit...that we can't just be, that we must also do. It is inescapable that our body responds to our choices...sometimes with pain, sometimes with energy, sometimes with illness and fatigue.  In this culture the definition of the word beauty is tied so closely to our the word body but not all kinds of bodies...just one kind, that of a young slender female. So it is no surprise that in our one small group we had women struggling with body image, with health issues and with longing for touch. As the weekend went, the circle grew smaller because we kept moving closer to each other physically. we needed to be together, to feel the closeness of other. Lots of hugs were offered and received. Healing touch was given. Healing words were said. Love and beauty joined forces to bring laughter and joy. While we don't often talk about it, the experience of spirituality is experienced within these solid and sometimes flabby bodies of ours. The concept of Spirit or God is also experienced through beauty; the beauty we see around us in nature and the beauty we see of ourselves in one another.

So given all these definitions of beauty and body and spirituality, what does it mean to "let the beauty you love, be what you do?" Good question. It is a question that begets more questions. Where do I find beauty? What do I find beautiful? And what is that makes the passion for life rise up in me? How does that passion manifest itself in what I do or don't do? in what I say or don't say? And even if I can answer all these questions with certainty, do I have the courage to explore the frontiers of beauty and truth? Will my body have the strength to live into my glorious passion?

What about you? 

Perhaps we can hold hands, hold the mirror up for each other and wallow in the beauty of the Spirit together. Perhaps with your help, I will have the courage to let the beauty I love, be what I do.

hugs,

jules

Living in the Gap

 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.~ Romans 7:15

We are so quick to condemn this or exile that, to ostracize the breaker of promises, when the truth is that nothing in nature arrives as imagined. In fact,  because the space between what we intend and what we do is often great, we keep beginning. Because the gap between what we feel and what we say is often surprising, we keep trying. Because the field between what we experience and what we understand is so vast, we keep growing....We aim, mean well, and fall short, or wide or overreach what we set out to do. ~ Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

I'm living in the gap. That's me. I reach out with all my heart, try to love as I would be loved, live as much as I can into the gratitude of God's grace and still I fall flat on my nose or worse, bump right into you my dear friends causing you pain. And then in my shame, I pull back in and hope you don't notice how stupid that attempt at humanity was just now. And then in my desire to be authentic and true, I find myself confessing the sin with inadequate words and once again, I fall short of my own plans to be the best I can be. All the while, the truth is I will always be living in the gap between what I dream life can be and what it once was. I've come a long, got a long way to go...always.

On a long ago day, I had an experience that is a wonderful example of how messy caring for others can get. I was a young stay-at-home mom. I had four boys, ages 10, 7, 5 and 2; all athletic and active but wonderful children. That day I was upstairs cleaning while the boys were in the basement playing basketball. We had set up small basketball hoops as high as we could go in our 7ft ceiling clearance. They were just the right size for the boys using miniature basketballs. All was well until I heard this scream. I came around the corner to the top of the stairs just as my 7 year old got to the bottom of the stairs. He was holding his hand under his mouth as blood poured out. It looked intially like he had lost all his teeth. As it turned out he gone up for a reverse dunk and when he came down one of his new front teeth had gotten caught in the net. I panicked. I couldn't breathe. I felt so bad that I had not been able to prevent this from happening and that my son's mouth would now never have this beautiful tooth. I had all those feelings before I even went looking for the tooth. I called the dentist who helped me breathe and told me what to do. Miraculously we found the tooth, the dentist put it back in and it finished growing. Years of orthdontic treatment and my son, now 24, still has his own teeth and a beautiful smile to go with them. 

Several years ago, the subject of this event came up when we were talking. My son, in his youthful honesty said, "mom, that was one of the worst days for me...not because of my tooth. I don't even remember the pain but because you weren't there for me." Stunned, I realized he was right. Somewhere in that, even though I did what I thought was right, I let my own feelings, my own panic become more important than his feelings. I wasn't there for him even though I did everthing I could to be. Looking back, I see that this still sometimes happens with me. my gift of being able to empathize with others' feelings is also sometimes a curse clouding my ability to be fully present. I've beaten myself up plenty for this.

It happened again the other day. I was trying to be there for an important person in my life. I stepped up to the plate without hesitation. My heart was in before I had even a coherent thought. My brain followed and did its best to be reasonable guide. And suddenly my own sympathetic pain got in the way of me being fully present. I fell short, bumped my ego and hurt my friend as well. I don't regret reaching out but I do regret getting in the way. I still live in the gap between my reach and my grasp. All of us do.

But Mark Nepo offers the brighter side. due to the gap, I keep reaching and I do keep growing. And as I continue finding grace and forgiveness, I relax more and become more present, more authentic and less hard on myself as well as those around me. Due to the gap, I daily remember that all of us are all just doing our best to live and love, to grow and thrive, to make the world a better place. And though we fall short, our best efforts to reach out do help bring love and growth and healing into the world.

Later on in Romans 8:39 it says that "nothing can separate us from the Love of God." I am counting on that including the fact that I keep falling over my own efforts to love.

 

May you each know the Grace of God that is beyond understanding and still available to us all.

jules