what Mother Teresa and my peace lily have in common

I have one plant - I've had it since 2001. It's a peace lily and I like it very much; it has lots of meaning for me. However, I am not a good plant tender, gardener, what have you...My practice is the "drought and drown" method of caring for my plant. Even my 4 1/2 year old son tries valiantly, but, inevitably it looks so droopy and sad, leaning down the sides of it's pot (the same pot and soil I got it in 6 years ago) that I plop it in the sink and give it a healthy drink of water. A week ago, I thought I had really let it go too long - so convinced that it was indeed, a gonner, that I left it alone for another few days with the intention to throw it out. When I finally just couldn't put it off any longer, I couldn't bear to throw it out. I put it in the sink and gave it 2 healthy doses of water. I went out for a while and when I came back, it was still droopy. The next morning, Jonathan and I left for 4 days of summer vacation.

Driving back from Lewes, DE I heard on NPR about Mother Teresa's letters about to be published. The radio story talked about Mother Teresa having long dry spells of feeling disconnected, cut off from God. Theses letters seem astonishing to a world who assumed she must have felt close to God in order to do the work that she did. Despite feeling abandoned by God, she continually sought Christ through prayer; she sought counsel and spiritual guidance from others. She continued to search and feel in darkness, and, at times, she questioned God's existence. For whatever reason, Mother Teresa experienced the long, long night of darkness. She came to understand her search for God as evidence of God's hidden presence in her life.

I think there are a lot more people able to identify with Mother Teresa today;
many who have not been visited as she was with a voice directing her vocation;
many who have not felt, actually felt, God fill them with a divine presence and love. And so, many who don't know what it is like to have it taken away.

My thoughts drifted to my peace lily and how I couldn't quite give up on it...

Imagine my surprise and delight when I walked into the house and the peace lily had perked up and was looking green and healthy again. It's long dark night was over.

Mother Teresa and hearty peace lily plants bring hope that light and life will return to our dark and dry times of life.

collective memory

Funny...what the mind does...

Yesterday I was brought up short with all of the talk about the anniversary of Elvis' death - 30 years ago. You see, until yesterday, in my mind, Elvis died way before my time - before I was born that is. Shocked I was, to realize that in fact I was born - was living, for less than a decade mind you, but with no collective memory of this event. Apparently I was much more interested in our family vacation to Adventure Land and the Iowa State Capital, and the Iowa State Fair than a major loss to the music world. And, granted Elvis was no JFK or MLK, Jr., but people are talking about him non-stop for several days on this 30th anniversary - enriching our collective memory.

Funny...what the mind does...

Tuesday night I found myself looking at the White House, the Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln monuments from the roof-top restaurant of the Hotel Washington with a group of Lutheran Volunteers (www.lutheranvolunteercorps.org) about to begin their year of service - oh, by the way, they were definitely not around when Elvis died.

I am an alum of this service corps program and they asked if I had a favorite story from my volunteer year. Several memories came to mind...3 hour house meetings, the continuum of simplified life-style and resulting conflict, an exhausting Thanksgiving meal at the homeless shelter...But my filtering screen automatically slipped into place, they will, after all, find out for themselves...and I talked about my bathroom space being breached by my male housemate while I was in the shower, and the shelter resident who went back to the street and his drugs, but whom I ran into several years later, cleaned up, giving back and serving in Americorps. I'll never forget hearing his deep baritone voice behind me at an Americorps gathering - it was almost too much to hope for, could it really be him? Yet, I would know that voice today, never needing to see the face. And, yes, it was him, our paths crossed again and we reminisced about life at the shelter, his journey to recovery and his valiant, though futile, attempts to teach me chess - our shared, collective memory.

Funny...what the mind does...