I’ve been fascinated by new photos of snowflakes… have you stumbled upon some of them in Facebook or Instagram? They are remarkable… and shimmer like diamonds. They are transparent and the light moves through them and no one is the same.

As I look out my window are see the snow coming down, I can’t imagine or comprehend the variety of each flake or the numbers even in a gentle flurry as we have today.

The world can be a scary and heart-breaking place…and yet here is the snow softly dropping from the sky… may you slow enough today to let the beauty of the delicateness of the snow… land on you and bring you a sense of deep peace… even if just for a moment.

I, for one am, glad you are here in all your uniqueness and inner beauty.

May you be healed by beauty in ways that surprise you today.

Warmly,

Michelle

February is a time when Americans reflect on and recognize the central role African Americans have played in U.S. history.  In honor of Black History Month, for today’s reflection, I pay homage to the “Greensboro sit-ins”, which were a critical turning point in bringing the fight for civil rights to national attention and furthering the cause of equal rights for Black Americans in the U.S.  The following is shared with permission from Elena Varipatis Baker at Network for Social Justice (www.nfsj.org).    

God of Love, help us to summon the courage to tear down systems of injustice and do the work of creating a world community with liberty and justice for all your beloved creations.

Marianne DiBlasi, CPE Intern

HEALING OURSELVES

Kintsugi is a Japanese art form of repairing broken pottery with gold. The philosophy is that
breakage and repair are honored and are part of the history of the object. The cracks and
repairs are just an event in the life of an object. The damage is not to be hidden, but to be
highlighted. With the repair a new object is formed. This also emphasizes the concept of nonattachment
and the acceptance of change. We like to hold onto things or to relationships.
None of us relish change, even though we know that change is inevitable in our lives.
As Henri Nouwen writes in his book The Wounded Healer:
Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally,
mentally or spiritually. The main question is not “How can we hide our wounds?” so we don’t
have to be embarrassed, but “How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?”
When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have
become wounded healers.
Our wounds are not a source of shame. Our healing is not selfish because it’s never just about
us. Every move we make toward healing—no matter how uncomfortable—is a move toward
becoming a source of healing for the world around us as we become a wounded healer.
We are all broken and in need of repair. By filling our brokenness with gold, we become
healed and become someone who is even more beautiful.

Blessing for a Broken Vessel

Do not despair,
You hold the memory
of what it was to be whole.
It lives deep
in your bones,
in your heart,
that has been torn and mended
a hundred times.
It persists
in your lungs
that know the mystery
of what it means to be full,
to be empty,
to be full again.
I am not asking you
to give up your grip
on the shards you clasp
so close to you
but to wonder
what it would be like
for those jagged edges
to meet each other
in some new pattern
that you have never imagined,
that you have never dared
to dream.

—Jan Richardson

Keep working on your own healing for yourself and for all the rest of us. Our world needs it.

Mary Anne Totten, CPE Intern

“Earth, Teach Me” a reflection by CPE Intern Sarah McEvoy can be found here.

Two very different sorts of contemplations bring me peace.

One kind is all about little details.

Like the smell of pine needles or the crunch of twigs and pebbles under my hiking shoes.

Or the babbling sound of running water in a rocky brook.

These tidbits all connect into the bigger thing we call the world around us.

The other kind of contemplation is about shape and form.

It’s the rush of wind at the top of a mountain.

The bird-eye view of slopes textured by different kinds of trees.

These broad vistas only exist because of twigs, pebbles, pine needles, and rocky brooks.

The big and the small.

The detail and the sweep.

One makes the other possible, and real.

It is as true out on the trail as it is inside my heart.

John Terauds, CPE Intern

Open Spaces

There is an ancient story about a man who moved his family and all that he had to a new place. Because it would be impossible for them to survive in this new place without water, he had his servants dig a well. They were successful however shortly after digging the well, the man’s enemies filled it up with dirt during the night. This process happened several times. Servants would dig a well only to have enemies fill it up again.

Eventually, the enemies gave up. And when this man realized that the well that was dug the previous day was still accessible the next morning he decided to name it. The name translates into our language as “open space”. He chose that name because he now had assurance that he would be able to prosper in the new space in which he found himself.

When I read the story, I was at first taken by the determination and persistence that it took to keep digging wells. I believe I would have given up and tried another location further away from enemies and any other obstacles. But I realize that is a contemporary way of thinking and those in ancient times did not have the options I do today. They had to make it work or they would not survive. What a relief it must have been then to awaken to fresh water. No wonder he chose “open space” to name a well that promised hope.

This story has also caused me to ask myself some deeper questions about my own tight and open spaces. Do I have a well, a source that sustains me? Do I need to dig a well, realizing that what I once thought I could rely on doesn’t serve me anymore? Do I have the determination and persistence to keep going? What works and what doesn’t work in this new space I am in? How will it feel to be in an open space once again?

May we all take some time to reflect upon where we have been, where we are, and where we are going. May we dig wells that sustain us and the courage to step into our new open spaces.

Cherie Shaw, CPE Intern

While this hasn’t been a particularly snowy winter, we’ve had a couple of storms over the past few weeks that brought us a beautiful insulating blanket of about a foot of snow at my home in Massachusetts.  I’ve been noticing how quiet, light, and bright it is here with this covering of snow.  It absorbs the usual noises and at night, it almost looks like the sun is showing through the cracks in my blackout curtains as the moonlight reflects off the snow.

I appreciate this season as Mother Nature’s forced slow-down, a time for quiet and stillness and space in the cycle of the four seasons.  I love the description of winter as “perfect humility.”  Of course winter brings its own joys — the comfort found in a hot mug of tea or bowl of soup, the longer nights to catch up on Netflix favorites, the celebration that comes when the school district announces a snow day.    

Though I don’t want to romanticize the COVID pandemic, with its enormous toll of human suffering, in a way this past year has been one long season of winter.  A forced slow-down, a year of solitude, looking outside at the world through our windows as we stay at home.  As we approach the one year mark of the pandemic and vaccine distribution is increasing, this might be a time to renew our hope that spring is coming.  As surely as the cycle of the seasons, there will be days of growth, renewal, and rebirth ahead of us all.          

I invite you to join me in this prayer adapted from Cal Wick’s “In the Midst of Winter:”

Holy One,
In the midst of winter, when the days are cold and the wind can pierce, remind us of the warmth of your love.
In the midst of winter, when dawn comes late and dusk arrives early, remind us that in the darkness your light still shines.
In the midst of winter, when the flowers of spring still lie hidden in the earth, when leaves are off the trees, and the world can seem bleak, remind us that spring is but a short time away.
And when our lives feel as if we are experiencing a season of winter, reach out to us with the power of your love so that we may see the light that alone can take away the darkness.
Amen.

Cal Wick, “In the Midst of Winter”

Peace & blessings to you,

Jennifer, CPE Intern