Sacred

Today has me thinking about the “sacred” in our relationships.

Sacred describes something that is dedicated or set apart and considered worthy of respect or devotion; or inspires awe or reverence among people.

There are beautiful little things we know about the people in our life. The silly things, the deep soul wrenching things. The space that holds a memory or remembers in memoriam.

The irony is not lost on me that the thought of sacredness comes to me on Maundy Thursday, the day in which Christian believers honor the Last Supper. Additionally, tomorrow, Good Friday holds the same space as the 25th anniversary of my dad’s death.

Where many people hold sacred the tenets of the Last Supper, my soul lands in the Garden. The place where Jesus cried in anguish over the fact that the Duh-ciples couldn’t stay awake to watch for the end with him. The place where dissapointment was more prevalent than just Judas. I will circle back to Judas later…

There are so many wonderful nuggets-of-knowing that I have with people in my life. Some nuggets I hold safe for others, while others are the keepers of my sacred.

I have a longtime friend that LOVES the first baby leaves of Spring. Not the tightly wrapped buds of “soon” but the bursting forth of the arrival of new beginnings. The Promise of brighter skies ahead. Each time I see that Promise, I think of her.

I know that there are one, maybe two people on the planet that know why I weep like a willow when I hear the song “Rainbow Connection”. They know the deeper tether to my sacred better than anyone. They know the cries of my heart.

I delight in the memory of my dad and his deliciously impish way of putting his birthday on other people’s calendars. If he was in your home or office long enough, and you had a wall calendar, his birthday mysteriously ended up on it. I’m pretty sure that is where my notion of taking a whole month for my birthday stems. Birthdays are a big deal.

I hold some stories and events safe and sacred, locked up tight until the owner is ready to bring it to light.

I hold the memories of sweet childhood just as tightly as the trauma in the same hourglass.

I know the heartache of betrayal and I have also been the betrayer.

And it is ALL sacred.

Back to the Garden…. While many people make Judas a villain, I think of him as misunderstood and misinterpreted. We’ve all been there, feeling as though we are doing the right thing and then have it go so horribly wrong.

Jesus knew what was coming. He knew it in every wrinkle of his garment, in every stone where his foot fell. He knew he would die. He prepared a place, arranged a meal, probably even wrote a sermonette to explain the coming days, but he would not bring about the end on his own. There was protocol in place and the proper authorities needed to be made aware. I think that Judas was chosen by Jesus, not because he was voted to be the Dickhead Disciple but because he was a devoted friend. He heard the rumblings in the square, he knew (he thought) that the authorities would be reasonable…

Yeah, we think we know the motives of others, but you can not hold motive in higher esteem than the sacred.

The officials ALL had their own agenda, and “by hook or by crook” they were going to get their way. Judas loved his friend Jesus and didn’t want to see him harmed. He was duped by the authorities into thinking Jesus would have a fair trial and life and lessons with The Boys would go on.

Judas held on to the sacred; the love of Jesus, the times at his feet learning, the pure heart of a man who loved God and all people. Why else would he have “betrayed him with a kiss” when he could have easily told the authorities, “yo, the dude with the prayer mantle/shawl is Jesus.”

When the dust had settled after the events in the garden, Judas held the kiss he gave Jesus as sacred. The sacred that played in his mind over and over and quite honestly, Judas just couldn’t deal. He couldn’t bear what had happened. That he’s been deceived by the authorities. That he was now the most hated human in the land. So he did what he did. He exchanged the sacred for surrender.

Even with nearly eight BILLION people on this planet, YOU are sacred. You alone. You hold the sacred of others and others hold yours. It is in this beautiful transfer of trust, love and belief that we are all so connected even if we are one thousand miles away or our paths only crossed once.

While I implore and beg each of you to not look to an exchange to surrender, I ask that you explore your sacred. To listen to the quiet and find the moments of awe and beauty in remembering who’s sacred you are holding and who holds your sacred.

Look at those baby leaves, Hermana, just look ❤️

One Word

2017 was the first year I purposefully set a “one word” into being, rather than offering up a well meaning, but never fulfilled “resolution”.

My word for 2017 was Boundaries. I totally lost sight of my word, allowed myself beyond boundaries that were healthy or helpful. My word rediscovered me, revealed itself where I had least expected, and showed me lessons learned while I wasn’t looking.

My word for 2018 can be found in the waiting; for my 3rd grandchild to be born, for a BIG birthday year, and the vision of a 2nd book (yet to be written).

My word can be found in the hoping, believing in better health solutions and for relationships restored.

Yes, I can safely say, 2018 is to be filled with Expectation!

Cheers to 2018! And all that you are expecting!!

I’ve Been Slimed

 

The day after (the election) feels as though I’m in the  sequel to Ghostbusters. For those of you who are not familiar with Ghostbusters 2, allow me a moment to share the CliffNotes version of the storyline…

The ‘Ghostbsters’ find themselves bankrupt after a heap of lawsuits. Lawsuits that came about AFTER the citizens were spared from some big evil marshmallow dude. NYC  officials extend a restraining order so that no more ‘damage’ can happen to their city.

However, problems arise, as they always do, and the Ghostbusters are needed again. The people who cried out for their heads now need their help, [again]. It seems as though some evil is flowing through the veins of the community, infiltrating every crevice of life.

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It is discovered that it is indeed  flowing through the veins of the city. A pink ‘mood” slime is flowing and bubbling beneath NYC. A slime that feeds on negative emotions and anger. As fear and craziness ensues, the slime thrives…

Looking around social media today, I can’t help but feel slimed. Fear and panic, ugliness and broad sweeping beliefs that the sky is falling.  The vacant faces of news correspondents wondering how the heck we got here. Yes, the world has changed overnight. Finger pointing and hatred gets us nowhere.

I’m not one to give in to the panic, at least not today. I’m not sure if it’s having grown up in a politics loving family or the fact I’ve survived so much in my life that I refuse to give one faction that much control. I refuse to give in to knee-jerk reactions, fear and hateful speech.

I may be just one person, but I’m not going give another ‘one person’ that much power. [Unless it’s Jesus himself] I will not bury my head in the sand and hide. I won’t protect myself from impending doom and worry about ‘me’. As in the Ghostbusters movie, good vibes and unity can change the charge of the slime.

Hope is alive. Hope is universal. Hope is unifying. Maybe it’s a cheesy sing-along-song to unite us or maybe it’s the unity found in the  beloved Cubbies winning their first World Series in 108 years. 108 years y’all!!! For 107 years, the mantra has been “maybe next year”. This was the year!!!! But seven days later, the world is going to end.

I’m going to do my part to make a positive stamp on this life. We win, friends. The light always wins. A little flicker of a flame cancels out darkness. Always!

So here’s my a little ditty to get us connected….Love…Love keeps lifting me…