Heaven Seen Through Alice’s Looking Glass

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have seen the video where I share my special editions of the whimsical classic “Alice in Wonderland.” The idea that a world with magical characters could be at my finger tips through a rabbit hole brings the splendor of an encountered imagination.  I certainly felt a warm kinship with Alice when she said “When I get home I shall write a book about this place.” Thankfully, that book was gifted through the wonderful creativity of Lewis Carroll. Recently, I came across this beautiful life-size statue of Alice Through the Looking Glass constructed by Jeanne Argent, and displayed on the Guildford Castle grounds located in Surry, UK.  The figure was sculpted as a memorial to Carroll who lived nearby in the Chestnuts until he died in 1898. The statue beautifully captures Alice leaving one world and entering another.  She is feeling…

The Spiritual Power of the “Arrow Prayer” in Times of Need

The desert Fathers knew the spiritual power given in the arrow prayer. They committed to memory, the poetic words the Psalmist prayed to draw God down into their human situation and bless them right where they were. With one breath, the day began with the prayer, “Lord, be with us.”  Chanting the words “Thank you Father for the beauty of all you created,” they praised the Almighty for the light given by the sun, shimmer of the moon and sustaining food from the earth. In sickness, their supplications lamented “Have mercy on me Lord, fill me with a length of days” or “Incline thy ear to hear my plea with mercy.  For I am without help, make haste and deliver me.”  When in doubt, the words “Lord, help me in my unbelief” stand ready. Saint Mother Theresa of Calcutta also spoke arrow prayers into her work without end.  She said…

Wherever we find ourselves – the Good Shepherd is there.

Author and theologian Frederick Buechner described the way he saw God as a Shepherd this way… Recalling a memory of a man taking care of sheep, he states, “Some of them he gave names to, and some of them he didn’t, but he knew them equally well either way. If one of them got lost, he didn’t have a moment’s peace till he found it again. If one of them got sick or hurt, he would move heaven and earth to get it well again.” The metaphor helps us to understand why Christ gives Himself the title “Good Shepherd.” He is the One who searches for the lost and calls each by name.  Those who hear his voice turn to Him, moving away from those places of worldly overwhelm, fear and lack. For He tells us, “I am the Good Shepherd; I know…

It is Never too Late to be Who We Truly Are

The Wisdom of George Eliot The journey through George Eliot’s life changing novel MiddleMarch – A Study of Provincial Life begins with a look back into the young life of Saint Theresa of Avila.  As a child, little Theresa and her younger brother set out from Avila to find martyrdom as a means to restore peace in the suffering country of the Moors.  Eliot then quickly takes us into the hidden life of the innumerable quiet souls struggling with hard times not unlike the mystical saint. Thus, the magnificent nineteenth century writer points to the existence of the “many Theresas in our world who found for themselves no epic life; perhaps only a life of mistakes; or a tragic failure with no sacred poet and sank un-wept into oblivion.” Through the lives of the characters living in Middlemarch, Eliot shows us that “it is never too late to be…

Remembering James through my Grandmother’s Tears

The stories we live and those shared by loved ones shape the person we ultimately become.  Epic narratives chronicling the life changing events of our forerunners emerge like a spiritual watchtower to see God’s fingerprint on our lives. As a young girl, my grandmother’s re-telling of the story of how her beloved sister (Lucimelia) tragically lost her life showed me what it means to carry a torch of love that stays lit till forever.  I could not know at the time how those unforgettable remnants from long ago would help me through the immeasurable loss of my own brother James on September 11, 2001. My grandmother lived in South America and traveled to the United States whenever possible.  Hence, the time we had together was limited.  I was only too happy to share my room whenever she visited, usually taking place during the hottest summer months.  She…