2024

Dear Friends,

These tender days of Advent are a gift to me. I watch the local birds peck at their feeders, the Canadian geese stop by the lake on their way south, and a brief snowfall cleans things up, just enough, to enjoy a peaceful presence. Quiet and wonder are here, and at the same time my heart is full of anticipation for a special family Christmas in our home state of Washington. My last Christmas there, I carried our 3 month old son. This year, he carries his 1 year old daughter.

Another gift in my world is the community choir, Accidental Harmony. Led by a beloved musician and teacher, we rehearsed 9 weeks and performed one night with piano, flute, guitar, brass quintet and jingle bells sharing the joyful sound. My heart melted when the harmonies hit their perfect combination and we created magic. We sang of angels giving glory to the newborn king, of “this time of year when the world falls in love,” even the simple beauty of a snowy day. These individual links are from other choirs that helped us learn our parts…please, take some time to listen and enjoy.

Toward the end of the concert, we sang a lovely piece, “We Toast the Days” by Linda Kachelmeier, that offers an image of hope.

“While the night is long and the bitter cold has come, we lengthen our embrace

to sustain us as we mourn our regrets and the fear of days unknown.

With assurance of the courage we will find and the hope that leads us on,

We toast the days…..”

More and more, I am learning the depth of hope that we are called to, especially in these times. Hope that is not in the future, but right here in the present. We bring hope with us into conversation and into quiet, a resource and a strength honed through life experience and the sacred path of our humanity. Our access to hope might change, as we change, but the fundamental quality of hope does not. As Cynthia Bourgeault teaches us. “Hope fills us with the strength to stay present, to abide in the flow of Mercy no matter what outer storms assail us.” Dear friends, I join you in that place where we walk through this holy season of Advent. Together, let us stay present, to abide in the flow of Mercy, to sing our songs in harmony and hope.

With love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I recently shared retreat with a roomful of spiritual directors and companions at Genesis Spiritual Life Center. Together, we listened to our wise teacher, chatted over meals, and ooohed and aaahed at the full moon. Our theme, “Soulful Connections,” led us through wonderings about our spiritual journey, being with the pain of the world and who God is to us at this stage of our lives. I came home nourished and grateful for the rich encounters and lovely people.

One of my favorite moments was our gathering around the fireplace, we described our spiritual journeys through images from nature or life experience. Creativity filled the space, as we explored and shared God’s presence in our lives. As you read these examples, I encourage you to wonder which ones might connect with your experience. Or, what is missing? What image might you envision for your unique relationship with the Divine?

One participant described a roller coaster, with its adventure, its unpredictable ups and downs, as a good metaphor for her journey with God. Another saw herself as a tree, with deep root connections below, a haven for life on her branches and ongoing movement through the weather around her. Nature’s metaphors continued with a description of the spiritual journey as a river, at times still and stalled, or moving quickly with white water, or its path turning and traveling through different landscapes. A train with multiple cars, a tattoo parlor, the ocean’s ebb and flow and resting in God’s heart joined the images in the room.

My own response came slowly as I stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace. At first, I named “a fire” as my understanding of this journey, the aliveness and light called to me. With this safe and generous community around me, I let my imagination evolve as I watched the fire being tended. Lovingly, carefully, the glowing embers packed together, a fresh log landed on top and whispery sparks flew into the space above. “A firekeeper,” I said, “one who tends a fire.” For me, the invitation to share light has been an ongoing part of the journey. “But do you fall asleep?” I was asked. “Yes, sometimes” I answered, with a solemn and patient awareness of my humanity.

You see, friends, the world needs all of us to pack the embers of our dreams and values, to add the gifts we have to keep things going. The world needs us to find ways to keep the Fire of Hope alive, even when we fall asleep, with our sisters and brothers at our side. The process isn’t smooth, I can get burned or carry too heavy logs. But the years have taught me, the Living Fire continues to burn within me, as it does within you.

With a grateful heart, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I keep staring at this picture of my 10 month old granddaughter. In it, she’s pulled herself upright, smiles at me and the camera, and leans her hand into the top of the couch’s cushion. Three of those precious knuckles are pressed into the surface, indented with her desire to hold on. One knuckle is bent upward, sort of a little mountain next to sweet valleys. Her fingers are extra white at the tips, a clear sign of her body’s participation in her determination.

I marvel at this image, repeated in human babies throughout time, of her body knowing exactly how to help her reach her goal. She doesn’t even know the name of those sweet knuckles and yet they respond to her desire to stand up. And I wonder, how has my body been my best advocate over these 74 years? I know the names of many of my parts, but how often do I marvel at their reliable response to my goals? How often do I abuse or take those parts for granted when I over-eat, under-exercise or avoid self-care?

As you know, friends, my hope for these Glimmers is to be a voice of hope. I seek to enter the details of being human and infuse them with the promise of the good in myself, in all of us. When my newest daughter-in-law sometimes says, “How are you doing, you beautiful humans?” I value her reminder of my complicated humanity that is, at the same time, beautiful.

How might I, might we, tread the path before us with the confidence, determination, and joy that I see in my granddaughter? How can we cultivate the relationship between our busy minds and these miraculous bodies, even as they age and accommodate the natural or sudden changes? How shall we remind ourselves that just as trees and seagulls are alive with the Divine, so too are these bodies of ours? Let us claim the gift of Life, in all of its forms, and smile at the precious moments of standing up on our own.

With gratitude, Lisa

Dear Friends,

Willow calls out to me on these steamy, lazy summer days. Her long, leafy tendrils reach out to me as I float by. I’m comfortable on my “blue floaty thing,” complete with arm rest, cup holder and my kayak paddle to navigate. Even with others around us on the water and land, it still feels like its just Willow and me who know the secret of summer on a lake. Together, we share the present moment, the gift of Now, and enter a silence of Presence.

That is my offering to you, dear friends….a reminder of the soft touch of prayer, contemplation, quiet. We each have our own way “in,” our own, unique style of quieting down to encounter the simplicity of life, the beauty of nature, the reality of love. Here is a piece of music from Hans Zimmer (click here), music often helps me settle into Now… Perhaps you’ve a Willow or Red Maple near by that speak to your soul… take a little time for your self, your precious soul, and step into the Dream of Now.

I am learning trust, the deep-abiding kind of trust, the I-am-a-part-of-the-Universe kind of trust, the Dream-and-my-DNA-are-one kind of trust. I breathe and the Dream holds me, I write and the Dream hears me, I trust and the Dream and I dance….

My love to you, dear friends, Lisa

Dear Friends,

I share this moment with you, with great love in my heart. I know many of you will be reminded of your own losses, and I trust the sharing of stories supports our healing as well as our remembering. Some of you respond to my Glimmers, feel free to share a memory you hold closely, I would treasure that. (I shared this song with her, and later her family, I share it with you now…we had today…each today is gift.)

Vicki and I became friends in 7th grade. I had newly moved to Washington, from California, after the death of my father. She, and her family, were adjusting to life after the sudden death of her older sister. Two adolescents, perhaps drawn together by broken hearts, young and unaware. I’m reminded of the invisible horses that took the students to Hogwarts, but Harry Potter and others who had known death could see them. Such was our connection, Vicki and I, we saw things differently.

The 60 years of relationship that spanned sleepovers, HS, guys, college adventures, independence, marriages, careers and babies. A treasured memory is her arrival to hold my first born child, 3 month old baby boy, with all the love an “Auntie” could offer. With both my mother and father gone, she was my family. I lived in Connecticut and she in Washington, then all over the world, but we were able to retain our friendship, through the death of her 18 year old son, misunderstandings, and maturing. Another special memory was watching our relationship grow as we shared artistry in our later years – she as a potter and me as a writer – we talked together about our creative process.

On June 26, 2024, I joined her husband, brother, son, grandchildren, and other family in releasing her ashes into Monterey Bay, CA. We watched the ashes float among and between the rose petals, so lovingly added into the water. We stood in silence, for as long as we could, trying to grasp this new reality.

Vicki is gone, and yet she isn’t. She is a part of me, delighting in my joy and comforting in my challenges. Love and gratitude swept up and over that scene in the boat, the same love and gratitude that heals all of us…. surrounding us like the rose petals that transformed an image of loss into an image of Love

Dear Friends,

This morning’s green leaves dance above me. And the clouds, traveling through the soft blue sky, gently move even higher still. I treasure the birdsong surrounding me, high and bright, with an occasional low tone from the Mourning Dove. I’m reminded of my, then 7 year old, son’s face as he imitated her call. His eyebrows pulled together in an empathetic sadness, his mouth pursed as he sang, “coo-ah, coo, coo, coo,” a sweet reminder of the passage of life. (Here’s the dove’s sound for your enjoyment.)

June brings new life to the lake, we watch for tiny versions of birds and bunnies, squirrels and groundhogs. This year, three families of Canadian Geese have captured our interest. They seem to follow the sun, spending the morning on the West side to poke in the grass or turn bottom’s up in shallow water. Evening comes and we see them on the Eastern shoreline, preening and settling down after a long day. The families travel together, each set of goslings between two adults, a parade of life made extra special because of their different sizes. We watch newly hatched, more mature, and “teenager” goslings navigate their version of #lakelife and ponder the passage of life that continues.

Babies grow, families evolve, nurturing changes and identities transform, but love remains constant. Next year, some of those grown goslings will return to Beseck Lake to create their own families, some will not. The passage of life can be unpredictable, even difficult, but with intention, love remains constant. We, too, evolve and experience transformation within our very personal passage of life. It is here, during times of growth, we are invited to a deeper, more intentional commitment to love. It is here, in the morning’s promise, we hear the invitation and can say, “yes.”

With love on this new day, Lisa

Dear Friends,

On Monday night, I sang in a concert with new friends and old songs, as well as some very new songs! The weeks of rehearsals were a return to the joy of harmonizing, the challenge of correct timing, and falling in love with certain tunes or lyrics. The music and voices filled my heart and I’m sad to let them go… it’s like I lost an anchor. At the same time, I’m grateful for the experience and it’s meaning in my life.

One song in particular, actually a blending of two, was new to me. Titled, “Found/Tonight,” it’s origin and beauty offer a testament to hope. As you know from our 10 years of Glimmers together, hope guides our healing from loss. Not the wish-fulfillment kind of hope, but hope as a fundamental, transformative aspect of our humanity.

The song was birthed following the high school shooting in Parkland, Florida, where a student-led organization created “March for Our Lives” to support gun control legislation. Lin-Manuel Miranda, of  “Hamilton,” and his collaborator Alex Lacamoire combined songs from “Hamilton” and “Dear Evan Hansen” to create this beautiful anthem of  hope. If you click on this link you’ll hear the voices of Miranda and Ben Platt soaring through your heart.  And you’ll hear these words:

Have you ever felt like nobody was there?
Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?
Have you ever felt like you could disappear?
Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

Well, let that lonely feeling wash away
All we see is light
‘Cause maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay
For forever
‘Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand
You can reach, reach out your hand

We, who have experienced loss, know the empty spaces it creates. We, who grieve consciously, have learned to surrender and trust the unfolding of our healing. We, who claim hope as a part of our DNA, can sing:

Even when the dark comes crashing through
When you need a friend to carry you
When you’re broken on the ground
You will be found

You, my friends, are found. Its a privilege to journey with you, Lisa

Dear Friends,

To the woman who took off her shoes and outer sweatshirt, to stretch out in the sunny, 56 degree, CT afternoon today:

Thank you.

Thank you for listening to the wind and waves at Mercy by the Sea, thank you for looking at the buds coming out on the tiptop of a maple tree, thank you for trusting the invitation to enjoy this Earth Day 2024 with your whole self. Thank you for resting in Divine Presence during our week together.

On the retreat team this week, I have the privilege to hear souls’ journeys during their silent directed retreat. The morning unfolded as stories revealed vulnerability, courage, humanity and trust in the unseen Hand of God. We each felt the blessing of celebrating Earth Day in this most beautiful spot and I shared a prayer from Pastor Steve – who ministers through his website, Unfolding Light.

I share it with you here, friends, because his words and intention capture a truth that I hold dear. A concept that supports my own healing and understanding as a child of God, a Godling, as Steve would say. A reminder of the deep and rich relationship that each of us has with our home, our planet Earth. With gratitude and affection, Lisa

We are part of earth, not separate, not foreign.
Earthlings. We are not the whole earth,
but we are not anything else.
Every molecule of our flesh
is from the planet’s dirt and water.
The tides in our veins, the forests in our gut,
our mountains and valleys of bones,
our breathing in and out, all are of the Earth.
The red oak and the white tailed deer,
the water buffalo, the giraffe and the penguin,
the worm and mycelium,
the springs and rivers and the wandering winds,
all embrace us, include us, flow in and out of us.
Here we belong.

And so it is true of God. We belong.
We are not God, or even a great part of God.
But we are nothing else. Godlings.
Made of God, contained in God,
belonging in God. We are God’s microbiome.
God flows in and out of us.
We will never comprehend the Infinite One,
but only know that God is in everything we do.

Our calling, on earth and in God,
is to honor our belonging.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Dear Friends,

You’ve been on my mind…

I hope you’ve made the time for staring out the window, watching the birds dance across the sky. Or walking alongside a lake or stream, listening to life in its fullness…. I hope you’ve made the time to Be. That’s where you’ll find me these days, in the land of Be-ing.

You see, the new year began with three significant events and I, who evidently needs time to process things, am discovering new paths and attitudes as my heart stretches and stretches again. Adjustment and change are my “growing edges” in life, maybe for you too? In early January, I met, and fell in love with, our first grandchild in far-away Germany, and watched our eldest son become a Daddy, our daughter-in-law now a Mommy. Later, I received the news that my long time friend had died from pancreatic cancer. Her last, heartbreaking words, to me, “I love you, sweetie.” And as the month ended, we shared the joy, via pictures and Zoom-chat, of our younger son’s magical NYC wedding with his beloved. Just the two of them, their love and finery shone a bright light amid classic city scenes.

For ten years, I’ve crafted these Glimmers, drawn from my personal life and faith-journey to speak of our human stories and our shared desire for Divine presence in our lives. Born from the writer’s adage, “Write what you know,” and combined with my study of theology and the universal themes of grief, I sought to be a voice of hope for you, my companions on this journey. As March moves forward, you remain in my heart and prayer, your own stories unfolding – I pray you receive the wisdom that appears. What can I share today to support your path?

Let Love reveal itself in the rhythm of life. Remain open to complexity, to moments of joy and of sadness, to a single leaf dancing under gentle raindrops. Receive the gifts that appear in people, the natural world, in your own heart – and know that you are, indeed, a most beautiful child of God. I close with the music of my friend and wisdom teacher, Simon de Voil. Listen and receive the gift of Deep Peace…..

With affection, Lisa