Dogs are great, don’t get me wrong.  But I’m beginning to wonder what a person in this town does without a dog.

Almost everyone out walking has at least one dog on a leash and many times two or three.  The dog walkers always stop and talk to each other, admiring each other’s dogs and sharing stories.  They congregate in the middle of the sidewalk which requires a person without a dog to leave the sidewalk in order to make their way around them.  Dogs accompany their owners into stores and attention to the dog is paramount – much more important than being aware of other humans who are shopping.

It is certain that a dog is “man’s best friend,” but I’m beginning to wonder if our love for dogs has begun to interfere with our love for each other.  Pets do love us with an unconditional and faithful love, there is no doubt.  But, lost in our love for our pets, have we forgotten how to love our fellow human beings with unconditional and faithful love?  It is a question I’ve been asking myself lately.  And it has caused me to make an effort to greet and speak to dog owners that I meet while walking.  Of course our conversation is about the dog – but, who knows, maybe some day one of us will make a comment about something else.  It’s worth a try for a moment of grace.

I love wisteria.  It’s so delicate and lacy, with cascading flowers that come in little clusters like grapes, not just one flower alone.  But the most intriguing thing to me about wisteria is the fact that it needs something else to lean on.  The plant itself is delicate and cannot provide its own support.  So, the wisteria needs a wall, a terrace, a roof line, or another tree to hold it up in order to display its beauty to the world.

I remember a tall and massive pine tree on the Seattle University campus that I used to pass when I was studying there.  Each spring that tall pine was covered with wisteria blossoms.  It was the most amazingly beautiful sight.  A pine tree that has no natural blossoms, and a wisteria that has no natural height.  But, the two – working together and combining their gifts – offered the world uncommon beauty!

It makes me think about how much we might be able to learn from such a natural occurrence.  No one of us has all things necessary for life.  We need each other to help flesh out our deficits and to accentuate each other’s beauty.  We really need each other to be whole.  Our society and our culture would like to have us think that we are capable and complete on our own – but we are not.

So, in our next interactions, let’s try and remember that we do, indeed, need each other.  Perhaps that will trigger a kinder word or a more compassionate attitude on our part.  Perhaps it will allow us to accept what someone else may be offering us.

And remember, bring your beauty if you want something to lean on.  Offer your strength and height if you want beauty.  Each will be graced by the other.

In just a few short days the landscape here has dramatically changed.  The brown and barren tree branches have come alive with full blooms and broad leaves in every shade of green imaginable.

Having lived in the Northwest for so long, I had forgotten how barren the landscape can become in winter.  Green is the perpetual color of the Northwest, and Seattle aptly nick named the “Emerald City,” but elsewhere, there is little color but brown and gray to see us through the winter months.

So, when creation comes alive again during the spring in this area and green fills the canvas, dotted by a host of colors – white, pink, yellow, purple, red – making lace-like patterns among the branches, I have a renewed appreciation for the glory of creation.  I’m reminded of the painting instructor my kids used to watch on PBS when they were little.  He painted “happy trees” with “happy blossoms” and “happy leaves” among “happy clouds.”  On a day like today there is no disputing it.  Creation itself is happy!  Life is graced.

Are we contributing anything to this happy scene?  With the new life of Easter budding within us, and creation itself coming alive, I think we must.

Alleluia! He is risen, just as he said.

The darkness slips away. The sun rises and the minutes pass as they do every other day.  Yet, unless we have spent our Lent preparing for this first day of days, it will be no different than any other day.

Have our eyes and hearts been opened?  Have we broken out of narrow and confining mind sets?  Have we reached out to others in uncommon love, kindness and forgiveness?

If we have — then we, too have died to old ways so as to rise to new life with Christ Jesus!  And, if we have risen, then through the power of the Holy Spirit, we can also see Him risen in every person we meet – indeed, in every living thing.

The stone has been rolled away.  Christ walks among us and within us!  May every moment be graced with Easter faith.  New life begins today.  Happy Easter.

So much of our lives seem to be taken up with waiting.  We wait for the light to turn; for the service to arrive; for the baby to come; for the day to be over.  We wait in grocery lines and at theaters; for phone calls and emails; for the seasons to change and for the project to be done.  We wait.

I can’t help but imagine what the disciples must have felt on this day following Jesus’ death.  They were waiting, but it’s unclear if they really knew what they were waiting for.  Jesus had promised them that he would rise again, but surely, they had no comprehension of the actual meaning of his words.  So, they waited.  In sadness and confusion – they waited.  In darkness and emptiness – they waited.  With faith and hope – they waited.

Thinking about this makes me realize that time spent waiting is graced time, not wasted time.  Not even the Son of God could be raised instantly.  There was a time of necessary waiting.  It’s the necessary part of the waiting that we often dismiss.  Nothing in life is instant.  There is a necessary gestation period for every living thing, a waiting, if you will, that must be part of the progression of life.

Can we begin to see our periods of waiting as graced moments where new life is growing within us rather than thinking they are wasted moments and lost to us forever because we have not received what we were waiting for right now?

This day is a lesson in waiting.  Waiting in love; waiting in faith; and waiting with hope against hope that new life truly does come from death.

“Where you there when they crucified my Lord?”  This is a popular spiritual tune that is often sung at services on this day.  While being a beautiful spiritual and a lovely springboard for reflective prayer, I have always disliked its use during the liturgy.

By asking if we were there when our Lord was crucified, it takes our attentions back to a time and a place where we can have no influence or impact.  The question revolves around us and our emotions during the event – asking us to reflect on what we are feeling, and yes, it does cause us to tremble.

But, perhaps the better question is “Where are we when our Lord is being crucified today?”  In our society today, and even within our Church, crucifixions are taking place . . . of gays and lesbians; of women and children; of the poor and homeless . . . and where are we?  Are we doing anything to help put a stop to the pain and the suffering?

It’s not an easy question to answer.  I am inspired by Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta who did so much to help alleviate some of the pain and suffering that she saw in the world.  It is said that she was inspired by two words Christ spoke and that she had them hanging on a plaque over her bed as a constant reminder to her.  “I thirst.”

With those two words in mind, Mother Teresa saw anyone with any thirst – be it physical, mental, or spiritual – as Jesus himself, and she spent her life reaching out and offering them some refreshment and relief.

As Jesus hangs on the cross in our day and our time, can we also offer some relief?  Any relief?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?  No.  Are we here while they are still crucifying our Lord?  Let us look deep within ourselves for the grace to stand up and act to relieve some of the pain and abuse; suffering and oppression that are still crucifying people in our society, our church and our world today.  May our trembling move us to the grace of action.

Recently I read an article that quoted a line from a poem by Mary Karr. The line that struck me was “You are loved, someone said. Take that and eat it.”

How appropriate to reflect on that line for this Holy Thursday.  Jesus, in all his divinity, yet complete humanity, sat at table with his friends and essentially told them . . . told us . . . told the world . . .”You are loved.  Take that and eat it.”

And the way he showed his love on that particular evening was by kneeling down and washing his disciples’ feet.  You are loved.  And he taught us the way to love others is to do what he has done.  It seems so simple when we read the words, but how do we do what he did?  Not only must we bend down and wash another’s feet, we must also offer that love as nourishment for others, just as Jesus did.

The bread and wine changed into the Body and Blood of Christ at each eucharistic service means nothing if we are not also changed in the process.  “You are loved.  Take that and eat it.”  And, “become what you receive,” as St. Augustine said.

Because we are loved and we are shown how to love, we are given the nourishment to become a part of the Body of Christ in our day and our time.  “Take that and eat it.”

It is profound grace, but it comes with great responsibility. 

I had a dream last night that I had lost something and could not find it back. I find dreams fascinating and usually try and discern their message for me.  John Sanford said that dreams are God’s forgotten language and that God is always trying to speak to us in our dreams.  And, there may be some truth to that.

Thinking about dreams and wondering what it was that I lost that caused so much consternation in my subconscious, I remembered one of my favorite quotes of T.E. Lawrence.  “All men (people) dream – but not equally.  Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity.  But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men (people), for they may act their dreams with open eyes and make them possible.”

Jesus was a dreamer of the day who acted out his dreams for a world of inclusion and equality and compassion and love and forgiveness and acceptance.  All are powerful things to dream about yet much, much harder to live out in the harsh light of day.

As we journey with Jesus during these holy days of his passion and death, can we take up his dream and live it with our eyes open so we can help to make it possible?  It might make us dangerous, as it did Jesus, but it also might bring some grace to our troubled world.

My feet hurt. And it’s no small wonder. I’ve been trying to increase my walking and I am up to about 4 miles a day at least 4 – 5 days a week.  So, yesterday my feet hurt to where I couldn’t think about anything else.  In the early afternoon I made an amazing discovering, though.  Just by changing my shoes I gained a blessed amount of relief.  The simple act of changing shoes completely changed my outlook for the rest of the day.

In my prayer this morning I couldn’t help but think of what other things I might need to change, small though they may be, in order to follow Jesus through his passion and death to his resurrection.  Changing my shoes is a simple act, but changing my mind; changing my opinion; changing my attitude; changing my perspective can be, oh, so much more difficult.  Yet, if we are attentive and keyed into our interior selves, we might be able to pick up the clues when our opinions and attitudes begin to pinch and cause us discomfort.  Maybe it’s time to re-examine them and see if another style fits better with more comfort.

Holding fast to something that no longer serves us well – like an old pair of shoes – benefits no one.  Jesus wasn’t trying to tell the people to remain the same – he was preaching about something new, something very different, something that would bring change – life in the Kingdom of God.  And he was arrested and killed by the authorities because they did not want to embrace such a change.  Can we?

Yesterday was Passion Sunday, the beginning of the holiest week of the Christian calendar. Following services at a local church, I went with my husband into his office because he had some work to complete before Monday morning.  I was merely going to help him place some pictures around his office and then take a walk through the monuments on the mall as he completed his work.

As we entered the federal building the security guard met us and screened all of our belongings and we walked through the detector.  Since it was Sunday, and few people were entering the building, the guard had the rare opportunity for a little chat.  He made comment on what a beautiful day it was.  “Yes,” I agreed.  “It was a little cloudy as we made our way to church this morning, but it’s clearing up now.”

“And how was the service?” he asked politely in his lovely African accent.  “Crowded!” I responded noncommittally.  “And the message?” he asked, “How was the message?”

Pausing for a moment, trying to find the correct words, I said “A little weak.”  I had wanted to hear a homily that was deep and thoughtful, one that would speak personally to me and touch my spiritual hunger; something to sustain me for the week to come as I prepared for this holiest of weeks, through the passion of our Lord, to the glory of Easter.

“Ah,” he said, the fullness of his obsidian face smiling broadly, revealing the kindness of his spirit within, “So the message was for someone else.”

His remark hit me like a splash of cold water!  Of course!  Not everything is about me!  What a graced moment, and one that I will carry with me through this week of our Lord’s passion and death.  The message was for someone else.  That is a little piece of the passion all by itself – not everything is about me.  In fact, most things in life are not about us at all!  We must learn to broaden our horizons and realize that there are others on this journey with us.

And so begins Holy Week with a vivid reminder of some of the simple passions we all must live.  A graced moment for a graced week.