More

More.
I want 
more time,
more done in my day,
more kilometres walked and biked,
more dessert,
another movie that I enjoyed as much as the last one,
more kudos, wins, meaningful prayer times,
as if more of anything
would make me happier.

Then I spend six days outside
by the sea
among the trees, caterpillars, birds and rabbits
exploring the beauty of the earth 
eating what’s been harvested
playing 
and sitting in the silence of the morning
enjoying
one moment after another with my honey.

For six days I am literally in You,
living, moving and having my being
loved,
receiving far more than I could hope for or imagine.

I have more than enough.

The only thing I want
is to say,
Thank You.

In him, we live and move and have our being.
–Acts 28:17

∗ ∗ ∗

Love Mischief for the World

Enjoy this short film by Louie Schwartzberg with music created and composed by Gary Malkin and narration written and spoken by Brother David Steindl-Rast.

What love mischief are you and God doing for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
Island View Regional Park by BC Canada yyjpics. Used with permission.
Takumar 55mm on Canon 5D Mark II – 1 (of 18) – Canon 5D Mark II with Super Takumar 1:1.8 55 mm Prime (M42 mount) & Fotodiox M42-EOS Adapter & Polarizer by Russell McNeil. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Always

The disciples were scared spitless
when You sent them off two by two 
to preach and perform miracles
without You.
But they did it
and came back full of joy
with stories as long as Your arm.

Then when You were arrested,
beaten and brutally murdered,
they didn’t think 
they’d survive without
their teacher and friend,
but they did.

After Your resurrection,
and the disciples had eaten and laughed,
and listened to You tell them again
what their hearts so wanted to hear,
they stood looking at the clouds,
wanting
one
last
glimpse
of You.
Engulfed in panic and dread, 
Your words of comfort were 
no comfort at all, 
and still, they thrived.  

They returned with joy,
they survived and thrived,
without You, their friend and teacher, 
because You, God, never left them.

You promised You would be with us always
and You always keep your promises.

Jesus says he is with us on our journeys. He says he has been with us since each of our journeys began.  Listen for him. Listen to the sweet and bitter airs of your present and your past for the sound of him.  
                             Frederick Buechner, The Sacred Journey 

Eastertide Reflection 7

Lately, when I experienced some “Oh, no!” feelings. I traced back to see what caused them and discovered there was nothing to be concerned about. An old/young part of me was simply startled when something unexpected happened and wanted reassurance that God was still with me, and everything was fine. 

What is going on in your life that feels difficult, scary or overwhelming? Do you feel alone in this? What’s it like to open to the reality that God is there with you, full of compassion, comfort and wisdom. What’s it like to know that God is in you, ready to meet the old/young part of you that gets startled in the night?

Credits and References:
“Sent Out” by Lawrence OP. Used with permission.
Poem “Always” by Esther Hizsa, 2023
“Ascension of Our Lord” by Lawrence OP. Used with permission.
“The Incredulity of St. Thomas” by Caravaggio, 1601-2
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Just Sit There and Let Me Love You

When my eyelid started twitching, I knew my body was stressed.

“You can slow down,” I heard God say to me in a spiritual direction session.

That week, with the same tender concern Pastor Ruth said, “You don’t have to do everything.” But the train of responsibilities had already left the station. I had to complete what I promised to do. I couldn’t just stop and didn’t think God was asking me to.

In a podcast on nature, I heard a contemplative naturalist talk about how she loves movement and long hikes in the wilderness. She also stated the importance of sitting for a while among the trees.

I imagined doing that in the middle of a hike and felt my insides rebel. Then a thought came. What if you just sit for a few minutes? 

So I looked for opportunities to sit down outside that seemed appealing. On a bike ride, I took my lunch and stopped to eat it surrounded by trees. Through them, I glimpsed the ocean and snow-capped mountains. As I ate my peanut butter and banana sandwich, a raccoon came out of the bushes across the street and trotted along the sidewalk. I wanted to call out to the young woman waiting for a bus a few feet away from the wild animal so she could see it too. But it would likely startle both creatures. A minute later, the raccoon disappeared into the bushes again, yet a sense of wonder remained.

The next day, I biked to visit a friend. Instead of trying not to be late, I planned to arrive ten minutes early, so I could rest at a nearby park. I’d like to say it was wonderful, and I heard God say something profound. It didn’t take long before I was fidgety and bored.

A few days later, I had a two-hour break around noon and planned to walk to the church and drop off the electric mixer my friend needed to prepare our monthly community meal. I wondered aloud if I should eat lunch before or after the errand. Fred suggested we pack our lunch, drop off the mixer, and enjoy a picnic in the shade. After we sat down, a toddler and his grandmother came along. We watched the little fellow test out the park’s exercise equipment while his grandmother stayed close by, patient and attentive. 

One of the first things I heard God say to me when I began my contemplative journey was, “Just sit there and let me love you.” God and my body and loved ones are saying this to me again. And while I fidget and explore what it’s like to be still, I sense God with me, patient and attentive.

By the way, I noticed my eyelid stopped twitching.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.
–Psalm 131:2 (NRSVUE)

∗ ∗ ∗

Eastertide Reflection 6

When I hear the same loving message from multiple sources, I sense God opening me to another resurrection. What have you heard lately in “surround sound”? What would it be like to picture God with you like a patient and attentive grandmother while you explore this loving invitation? What would it be like to hear God say to you, “Just sit there and let me love you.”?

A special shout out to my parents, Max and Heidi who turn 95 and 90 today! You two are amazing.

Credits and References:
“Raccoon” by Alex O’Neal. Used with permission.
Girl Seated on Hillside Overlooking the Water by Winslow Homer, 1878. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons 
“I heart coffee” by jojo 77. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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A Little Resurrection

I was all packed and ready to go. But not quite. I needed to go over a couple of sessions I would lead during the Living from the Heart course one more time. Now I had a spacious hour that Friday morning to do just that.

My practice is to review my notes by rehearsing what I plan to say. Although my plants listen intently, they give me no feedback. But my heart does. I often hear something that falls flat, shed a tear, or make a new connection between what I’m sharing and my lived experience.

But that morning, I heard myself rushing through the material and not entering into it. I was excited and anxious about the weekend, looking forward to what would unfold and nervous about any unforeseen challenges.

Typically, whenever I find myself in an unsettled state, I give up and go do something else. But there was nothing else I needed to do. As I got up to leave my study, I pictured myself fussing for an hour. That was so unattractive that I sat down again and asked God to help me. I took a few calming breaths and returned to my preparation.

At first, it felt like setting up a picnic in a train station. Eventually, my noisy nerves settled down, and I could enter into the joy of speaking out loud what was alive for me.

That was a win for me, a watershed moment, a little resurrection story of my own.  Although my plants remain silent witnesses, I see them celebrating a new leaf of their own.

In returning and rest, you will be saved.
In quietness and trust you will find strength.

–Isaiah 30:15 (Voice)

∗ ∗ ∗

Eastertide Reflection 5

Take a moment to return and rest in God. As you sit in silence, invite the Holy Spirit to show you a resurrection moment of your own. Where have you experienced new growth or new freedom, no matter how small? If, at first, all that comes to mind are your failures or places where you are still stuck, allow the Holy Spirit to comfort and assure you that God is not judging or criticizing you. That is not Love’s way. Keep breathing and listening for how God is giving you life. No doubt, there was a win in your life, too, that you can celebrate with God. The fact that you are reading this speaks to the fruit of a holy desire.

Credits and References:
Pothos Still Life by Marcy Leigh. Used with permission.
Pothos Leaf by Wallpaper Flare. Creative Commons.
Allium opening by Michael Levine-Clark. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Notice Me

As soon as the participants started arriving
at the retreat centre
I noticed something
in me
elbowed to the front
and shoved my self aside.

She wanted a hug from everyone
and pouted when she didn’t get it.
At the dinner table,
she told her stories
instead of inviting others to tell theirs.
In the opening session,
as I shared poetry, a song, and insights,
she looked for the nods and smiles
that told her she was significant,
she belonged.

Oh brother, I sighed,
when I went to bed that night.
Am I going to be like this all weekend?
I want to be present to these dear people
and not be so self-preoccupied,
so needy.

I closed the blinds
and turned off the lights
feeling disappointed
with myself.

That’s when God spoke up for my self:
That isn’t you.
It’s a part of you
that’s very young.


Tenderness came forward then
followed by compassion
and kindness,
and I found my self
present
to this dear child.
and able to give her
the assurance she longed for.

As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
–Isaiah 66:13 (NIV)

* * *

Eastertide Reflection 4

Singleness/ wholeness /oneness was the fourth posture that Heather Ruce invited us to consider. In this posture, the two parts of ourselves–human and divine, the ordinary and the spiritual–are integrated and at peace. All parts of ourselves are welcomed home and belong. Standing in this reality, we become more balanced, integrated, and unified in God. We are one in God, and we don’t lose the particularity of our being. In this place, we are oxygen for the embers of holy passion in ourselves and others. In this posture, I picture myself as a tree again with roots intermingled in God’s mycelial network and with leaves giving off oxygen to green up the world.  

 

Credits and References:
“What’s Up?” and “Vervet Monkey” by . Used with permission.
“Notice Me” by Esther Hizsa, 2023
Female Vervet Monkeys with Young by  Used with permission.
Image of tree by Gordon Johnson on Pixabay. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Childhood, compassion, Easter, Poetry, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The Unholy Three

Fear is a powerful ally.
It curbs my behaviour, motivates me, and keeps me safe.
Would I be as nice if I didn’t fear judgment?
Would I prepare and work so hard if I didn’t fear failure?
Would I watch what I eat and do my yoga if I didn’t fear disease and death?

Anxiety is at the ready.
“What did you miss?”
“Remember the panic you felt when you discovered too late what you forgot?
You don’t want that to happen again.”
Anxiety gives me the energy to pay attention and push through.
Anxiety has made me very successful.

A third support is my inner critic.
She keeps me on my toes and has my back.
She never overlooks a mistake, a selfish thought, or a hurtful word
and brings them to my attention before anyone else does.
She knows how painful it is for me to hear stuff like that.

The unholy three have served me faithfully for six decades.
But they are not kind,
nor are they compassionate.
They rob me of sleep and peace
and alienate me from others.

The unholy three are very good at helping me
become someone good, useful, and significant.
But that “someone” they have in mind isn’t me,
and, quite frankly, it’s exhausting.

But when I sit with you, my Beloved Three,
and sink into your tender care,
I feel myself let go.
These “friends” let go of me,
and I begin to notice
how You provide time to rest,
how You give me the words I need and lead the way,
how You’re always at my side,
catching what I missed
or opening a new way forward,
how You never ever make me feel
less than.

You invite me to relax and trust
that the Holy Three
will keep me safe,
give me what I need,
and transform me with loving-kindness.


What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don’t be afraid of missing out. You’re my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.— Luke 12:29-32 (MSG)

* * *

Eastertide Reflection 3

The third contemplative posture invites us to name what we need and wield it. “Wield” was the word Heather Ruce used. It reminds me of the superheroes in the Marvel movies I watch with my grandkids. A Google search of images for “wield” leads me to illustrations of violent power. But the Holy Three invite me to wield love. God asks me to exercise power, authority or influence by bringing into a room what I most need most: trust, loving-kindness, and compassion. Love asks me to use who I am to bring freedom and healing to the world. The question I ask myself is: What do I most need that I am also asked to wield? 

Credits and References:
Sparrows from PXFuel. Creative Commons.
“The Unholy Three” by Esther Hizsa, 2023
Rublev Trinity by Jim Forest. Used with permission.
Super Hero image from Pixabay. Creative Commons. 

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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My Suffering

Sadness crept closer
with each chapter I read.
Then it slipped in beside me when
the father left too.

It was still there the next day
and the day after that.
Sadness kept coming in
through the tiny crack of a story
that wasn’t even mine.

tender
fragile
close to tears

It didn’t have words.
It didn’t need them.
One person’s suffering
is enough for us all,

enough
to touch into mine,
my story of abandonment.
My pain

wanted to be seen
and felt.

My suffering has asked for this
so many times,
but every time,
like the father,
I left.

My suffering doesn’t leave.
It patiently waits for another story,
another crack,
that allows it in
for a little
while
longer.

What was my first word? I asked him, and he said: Don’t. I asked him what my second word was but he couldn’t remember. I think I’d have made something up if I was him. Like go.
Miriam Toews, A Complicated Kindness

∗ ∗ ∗

Eastertide Reflection 2

The second posture Heather Ruce shared with us on that Easter Saturday retreat, was to stand, spine straight, firm in our Centre. In this solid place, we open to what is–see it, feel it with Christ, in Christ. We open our eyes to the suffering within and around us. Like Ignatius’ meditation on the Third Degree of Humility, we willingly, and intentionally face what is not comfortable. We go with Christ where he always goes–into suffering. We hold the question, “What am I being asked to see and bear?”

Credits and References:
Fiction image by  Ofjd125gk87. Creative Commons.
“My Suffering” by Esther Hizsa, 2023
“Bloomst” by Leuchtturm81 . Creative Commons
“Tree” by Hofheim i. Ufr. on . Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Known

I am made of the earth
and of its Creator
flesh and spirit
human, divine
impermanent and eternal.

I will die
and before I die
I will have died and risen again
hundreds of times.

On the Saturday
between Good Friday
and Easter Sunday,
I lay awake in the tomb
and contemplated my death.

My body will die
but my spirit will not
and yet, I will need my mind
(which is part of my body)
to know that. 
And when my mind ceases to be,
my knowing of that will also cease.

Then where will I be?

I felt myself
fall
out of my grasp

and found myself

held
in the knowing of Another.

My being doesn’t depend
on my knowing
but on my being known

and I am 
–we all are– 
always
known.

For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.
–Colossians 3:3 (NIV)

∗ ∗ ∗

Eastertide Reflection 1

I spent Easter Saturday at St. Andrew’s Anglican Church in Langley listening and meditating on the words of Heather Ruce as she reflected on the teachings of Cynthia Bourgeault. Heather invited us into four postures. These are inspiring my Easter season posts.

The first posture is to ground ourselves in two natures–one foot in the ordinary and the other in God’s kingdom, one foot in what we see and the other in what is unseen. We are both flesh and spirit. Living in this duality is challenging. We tend to lean one way or the other. Jesus, in John 15, invites us to abide in both, to find God inside and around us.

We are both the keepers of our days and ones kept by a Love that enlivens us. In Psalm 4:8, David writes, “In peace, I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Waking or sleeping, we dwell in God’s love.

Credits and References:
“‘Just right!’ she sighed.” by Steve Corey. Used with permission.
“Faith” (Detail from a window, showing Faith holding the lamp of the Spirit’s illumination by Burne Jones in Buscot parish church in Oxfordshire, England) Photo by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P.. Used with permission.
“Lovely Feet”  by Amancay Maahs. Used with permission.

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Just as You Promised

I fell asleep beside you in the tomb
and when I woke up 
you were gone

and not gone.

I looked up, 
and there you were 
looking down at me
and smiling.

“Good morning, my Beloved,”
you said as if
it wasn’t the most famous morning
in the history of the world.

I jumped up 
and hugged you.

 

“Gandalf! I thought you were dead.
But then I thought I was dead myself.
Is everything sad going to come untrue?”

–Samwise Gamgee, Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

∗ ∗ ∗

Credits and References:
“Morning Mood” by Alice Popkorn. Used with permission.
“Klimmende winde” by Sylvia Sassen.Used with permission. 
“Just as You Promised” by Esther Hizsa, 2023.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Easter, Poetry, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

May We Love You

And, now, it is our turn
to remind you of your belovedness, Dear One.

This week, when you need to hear it most,
may we greet you on the road, palms waving.
May we wash your beautiful feet,
savour our last meal,
and feel the sting of being betrayed.
May we hold you in your anguished prayers
and be arrested with you.
May we declare our love
and meet your gaze.
May we wipe your brow,
and carry your cross.

As you have loved us,
may we love you, dear Jesus.

May we see your pain,
hear your cries,
and touch your hands,
your side,
your cheek,

and tell you again,

“You are my Beloved.
I will never leave you or forsake you.
You are mine.”

May we caress your feet
as you breathe your last

and weep

as we shroud
and rock
your lifeless body.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble
.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

–An African-American Spiritual

Credits and References:
“Christ in Gethsemane” by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“Crucifixion 2” by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“Jesus down from the cross” by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
Poem “May We Love You” by Esther Hizsa, 2023
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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