Praying for Strangers
A Lenten Journey

Lent is a good season for cloistering our souls for introspection. For considering what we have done, and what we have left undone. For considering the life and death and resurrection of our Lord and seeking ways to have the illumination of his truth guide us not only for this season but also for our lives. Many of us are content with Lent. Content with the quietness of it, the seriousness and the solitude of it. For others that slowing down of the spirit in the middle of life’s demands seems quiet the impossible task.

Regardless of which ‘type’ we might be, there is a place in God that is deeper and quieter still than we have gone before. It calls to us and waits for us to find it. This Lenten season don’t simply replay where you’ve been before with God or pull out your rote sacrificial list of things you love that you will abstain from. They become an easy practice. Bathe yourself in quiet and then ask God what he would have you focus on in this time of introspection. In this season may we seek to be more like the one who calls us and less like ourselves.

Scroll down for daily selections for Lenten reflection, journaling, and discussion. Although, offered for Lent – any season is a good time for a little contemplation on what it means to live a life of faith full of compassionate connection.

Praying for Strangers
A Lenten Journey
Easter Morning – 2012

The Story

The sun rises. And the Son rises. And in Him, we rise.

Happy Glorious Easter!

Blessings Always.

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Easter Eve  - April 7, 2012

Story Reflection

For most of my life I’ve been a chapel girl. Tiny, quiet little chapels which are usually deserted of people but not of God. I have visited empty churches and chapels as a young girl, discovered with my mother the tiniest of chapels ever in a farmers field in Germany, and continued to seek them out as an adult in other cities when traveling.

I used to visit a church that had a tiny chapel. They were kind enough to allow me private access and for a season I went there in the early morning of dawn to sit and pray and contemplate. A lit candle hung behind the altar and representing the eternal, omnipotent presence of God. The eternal flame, the light.

On this particular morning I sat and watched as the candle drew nearer and nearer to it’s end. The very end. The bottom of the bottom. It began to flicker a bit, threatening to go out and I began to worry thinking, “Umm, maybe I should call someone because the eternal light of God is about to go dark here.” Flicker. Fade.

‘Ok,’ I’m thinking, ‘Maybe I should get up and go behind those doors and search for more candles.’  In the midst of all this puzzling and concern a door opens  behind  me. A woman walks in so very quietly if my eyes had been closed I don’t believe I would have heard her. She walked up to the altar, a candle in her hand, and gentle took the flicking candle in it’s last few moments, held the flame to the new candle and lit it as the other one burned to dark. The new candle, the new light, shone brightly as she turned and left as quickly and quietly as she had come. Not a word had been spoken between us. I stayed awhile after that sitting in wonder and in awe. The perfect timing of the matter. The fact hanging on me that things had been under control when it looked like all would fade to dark forever.

It’s Easter eve. It was a very dark day once upon a time. The Disciples had been wondering if someone, anyone should do something. And perhaps thinking that all had fallen into darkness forever. That the light of the world had been extinguished. They were wrong. A perfect plan ensued. The light of the world would prevail. And it still shall.

Wait in wonder, not in worry, for the coming day. All is well.

 

Conversation
Darkest before the light? Has it happened this way in your life or those around you from time to time? Is there an eternal pattern to this and if so, why does it always seem it is this way. What should we do in these hours when they come? How do we handle them as a group and independently.

Contemplation

In your darkest hour, the light will prevail. Have faith in what you know to be true.

Prayer

Holy, holy, holy. God, In the darkest of nights when all appears lost cast our eyes expectedly toward Easter morning. Help us shed the skin of the dark night knowing that your timing is perfect, that your ways, while beyond our understanding, are perfect, and that your eternal plan for man is perfect. Amen

 

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 45 – April 6

 

Story Reflection

It’s Good Friday. Easter is only days away. And a glorious day it will bring. Because we remember something. God as man in a way that means God understands. Really, really understands.

Many times these days I try to talk to my phone. At least I tell it to ‘Dial Linda’ and sometimes it will dial my home, or mother, or my sister, or good friend correctly – even requesting, ‘Home, office, or cell?” But many other times it says – I don’t have that song. I’m not playing music. Or  – Yes, dialing planet Mars now. The more I try to communicate at these times the less it seems to understand. I can say, “No, no! Call mother.” “Yes, it says, dialing planet Mars.”

Communication. They tell me that it’s key. To just about ever relationship on every level in this world. But sometimes it breaks down just like my phone. People are speaking the same language but they are just not able to make the connection, to achieve the level of understanding that they so desperately need.

A few years ago someone share a personal vision if you will with me. This person is not overtly religious or spiritual. As a matter of fact, I would consider them extremelyv logical, full of common sense, and not driven by emotions. But this person had something happen to them that was a little different. It was unusual for them and as such, it was disturbing for someone who thrives on a sense of order and normal and questions easily answered. Sometimes, when people encounter things that are a little out of the ordinary they seek me out. They want to tell me their story which is not something I look for or encourage. (For instance, don’t take this as a message to send me your story. And I say that with all due respect.)

So this ordinary person had an extraordinary vision in that every time they closed their eyes for a few days they saw Jesus. In their minds eye, their heart, their spirit – whatever you choose to call it – they saw Jesus. And he would not go away. What the person kept returning to and saying over and over with a whisper was, “His eyes . . . ” and then they’d tell me how even with their eyes open and going about their daily business suddenly they would see this vision of Jesus standing before them again – in their mind again if you will. Not an earthly manifestation but somehow no less real. Again, “His eyes . . . ” and then the story would trail off as she stared off into the distance, wordless and remembering.

“What about his eyes?” I asked.

“They understood,” she said, and then her eyes filled with tears, “they understood – everything.”

This is Good Friday. This is the day we remember everything crucial to our being who we say we are in this world. This is a day that we can tell our spirit to call and it dials without hesitation or confusion. And here is the fact of the matter  . . .

He understands. Everything. Oh, thanks be to God. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 44 – April 6, 2012 

Story Reflection

In so many ways I had a charmed childhood. By that I mean, people to love who loved me. Family. Warm Summers. The deep south. Stories. I also had a bevy of cousins and Grandparents who lived a stones throw and a world away from me in the woods. Half of my life was Gulf Coast beach, sand, seagulls and sunsets. Half of my life was woods, creeks, chickens. When I say half I mean every week and much of the summer spent up at the creek playing with cousins and swimming and catching feral kittens. Charmed, indeed.

Used to be back in the olden times of my summers there was an old shack of a house that sat empty and abandoned just across the yard from my Grandparents little house. It was an open one room and the perfect place for cousins to gather, make things up as we went along and create one playhouse after another. On one particular day many, many years ago we were playing outside this old house, in the back of it, when we noticed a car coming down the road from a distance. Ever so often the car would stop by a telephone pole and one of the two men inside would get out, walk up to the pole for a moment and then return to the car. You may not understand this but it was a strange thing to see. A highway that normally sat deserted except for cars mostly one recognized as neighbors. And all that stop and go business. As the car drew nearer we clutched one another but seemed powerless to turn away. Then the car stopped right in front of us by the telephone pole, the man got out, and the entire tribe of us screamed bloody murder, took off through the back door of that one room cabin and out the front. Still running, still screaming bloody murder towards our Memaw who had been sitting on the front porch.

Now, I don’t remember exactly who else was on the front porch but there were others because there had been rocking and talking that came to a halt with our first yell. I’m figuring now they might have first thought one of us had been bitten by a rattler or moccasin. Memaw had left her chair, was already down the front porch steps and crossing the sandy lawn when the man from the car emerged through the door behind us. At this point we were so breathlessly terrified I think a few of us tripped on each other and fell down. Hysteria was raining. We are young, mind you. We were children.

What I remember most today however, is the stance of that stout, little woman standing there facing that man across the way and shouting at him, “What’s going on here?” followed by a quick, “You get out here! Go on back the way you came.” The way she said it you would have thought she had a shotgun pointed at his chest. The man was saying, “I was just trying to tell them we meant them no harm. We weren’t going to hurt them.”

“I said, get on now!” She replied in a powerfully, righteous voice. And just like that, the man turned and went back through the house, back to the waiting car and drove away. We didn’t hear them stop at anymore poles down the road in the distance. Just the sound of that car growing faint until it was gone. I’m thinking most likely we had to have iced tea and something to eat to calm us down. I do recall we were shook up for awhile.

Perhaps, children can have an innate sense of danger, or of things that aren’t quite lined up the way they should be. And perhaps, someone in charge can see when it’s time to step in, and to put the fear of God in the thing that’s looming in proximity until it goes back the way it came.

I have things that happen in my life like most of us that sometimes make me want to run. Sometimes screaming and sometimes just quietly, desperately trying to cloak the panic of the day. But . . .

Something happened over two thousand years ago that I need to stop and consider. Deeply consider. A pondering if you will of what I believe and how much I believe it. And when I do – a righteousness like that born of Grandmothers that will take on the darkest of darkness for the children they love – rises inside of me. I can plant my feet in the sand, my hands on my hips, and say, ‘I don’t think so. Not mine.”

God did this for us.

You and I, we are believers. This is our gift. To stand firm these last few days before Easter and know what we know. Unmoved, unchanging, and unafraid. Of everything.

Conversation

Discuss what strikes up the fear drums, the panic, in your lives. (As personal or as vague and general as you care to be.) Have you ever experienced a rescue in your life as a child or adult where someone shielded you from your fears real or imagined? In the contemplation of all that you believe to be true about God do you find strength rising there? If so, how so? If not, why not?

Contemplation

Consider the depth of what you believe to be true about God. Then contemplate the way you can actually apply that to your life, particularly the areas where fear tries to tread.

 

Prayer
Father, sometimes fears approach us from a distance and we watch them for so long, focused so much on their coming that we began to live in silent terror. A kind of ever so quietly running, tripping, and falling on the inside. Give us courage to grow so much in our faith that we are able to stand on solid ground. Grant us the freedom from fear this season truly represents.  Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 43 – April 4, 2012

Story Reflection
Once upon a time in the history of our family my mother was in a death-defying car accident and the seriousness of the situation can’t even be conveyed here. As she lay in that place between living and dying in Intensive Care, my father did something wild and wonderful and full of hope and desperation. A few days before he and my mother had been downtown and happened to go into an old jewelry story, the kind you would find before jewelry store chains in malls. A very serious little, tucked away jeweler. My mother saw a diamond ring she thought was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. And she shared this with my father, maybe tried the ring on – I don’t remember – and they left and went on about ordinary business. Buying the ring wasn’t really a consideration. It was out of the range of things our family would do. Maybe not
beyond ultimate capability but outside of the range perhaps of logic. But somehow my father managed to go into that store and make arrangements to buy that ring. He carried it to the hospital, walked into Intensive Care and slipped that ring on my Mother’s finger as she lay broken and unconscious.

What I was thinking for some reason today on a long drive home after leaving her and making my way to Nashville is this —

If someone saw that ring on her finger today they wouldn’t have a clue about the story behind it. And because of that, their opinion of my Mother might be affected in a number of ways. If they saw the movie Blood Diamond and thought all diamonds were procured under such horrible circumstances, they might have a horrible opinion of such jewelry and those who wore it. If they were impressed by such things and viewed them as a status symbol or a degree of wealth, they might get the wrong impression of my mother and like her for all the wrong reasons. The story behind the truth – the truth of the story – crucial to understanding someone or their situation. Passing quick judgements on people, thinking they are more than they are for some particular reason, or less than they are for any particular reason shows us with a great barometer exactly who we are inside.

I must tell you honestly this. There have been times that people haven’t particularly struck up a conversation with me or tried to say engage me, until they discover in the due course of conversation or overhear that I’m an author. Then suddenly, their attitude changes. And I think to myself – Really? I’m the same person who was standing here five minutes ago before you knew that.

But we all do that to some degree don’t we? Judging and assessing, valuing and dismissing. Aligning ourselves with those that that we deem worthy of our attention. Forgetting those who fall like backdrops in the scenery. In the process we miss out on the graciousness and goodness of a thousand strangers that pass through the portals of our lives. We prejudge associations, we assume we know our neighbors, and we walk through life labeling one and all, here and there.

And we can stop now. Really. It’s time to lay all that down.

Conversation
Diamonds or furs, blue jeans or tattoos, whatever it may be we judge each other. Discuss a multitude of ways that this pattern can be broken.

Contemplation
Behind every face there lies a tapestry of stories. Breakthroughs and breakdowns, happiness and heartbreak. Contemplate seriously how you can begin to see people beyond the surface of the moment into what is real.

Prayer
Lord, open our eyes. Once and for all. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 42 – April 3, 2012

“The name of the Lord is a strong tower.” Proverbs 18:10

Story Reflection
I once tried to get a job as a firetower -lookout. In the vast rural areas of Florida where I grew up there were many, many miles of undeveloped oak and pine. One quick lightning strike and our world could be smoke and memory. The towers were located pretty much everywhere. Where one man’s vision ended, then the border of another man’s responsibility began.

When I say I tried to get the job is an understatement. I almost begged. Maybe I did beg a little. No, a lot. The forestry department man just didn’t see me making this as a long term career decision. And he was right. I just wanted to get above tree level. To get to where I could see and breathe for awhile and be left alone and hopefully get a good amount of writing done in the process. A good friend told me that I would have been so caught up in what I was writing that I wouldn’t have noticed a fire until the flames were licking at the towers legs. She was right.

Today most of us have many things that we are juggling in life at one time. Many projects and people that we feel responsible for. Right in the middle of putting out one little fire it seems another flares up immediately. There are constant flames to battle, our hair is singed, and our clothes are always carrying the smell of smoke. I keep looking for a tower. Somewhere that I can climb high enough in my life to get a better view of the big picture. A place where perhaps I can catch a few fires on the horizon in advance, see strategies for how to deal with what is happening now and what comes next, and review my resources.

I’ve been reading the stories in the gospels recently surrounding Holy Week. Specifiically of the events that led up to our forthcoming celebration Easter morning. It was a maelstrom of confusion, fear and displacement. It was as if a fire had entered into the camp of everything the disciples had known, and scattered them. Jesus, on the other hand, kept putting one foot in front of the other. Calmly proceeding with an eternal plan no one else could see.

Perhaps, if His followers had calmed themselves, climbed to higher ground, considered all the words He had ever told them, they would have been different people during this week of trial and tribulation.

Perhaps, if we as His followers can calm ourselves, climb to higher ground, and consider all the words He has ever spoken over us, we will be different people during our trials and tribulations.

Seek higher ground. Find your tower. And enter in.

Conversation
Does panic breed panic in our everyday lives? It certainly does when someone screams “Fire!” in the middle of a crowded place, but aren’t there many voices yelling or whispering ‘Fire!’ in our personal lives? Discuss the types of trials we face as humans that cause us to fear, run, hide. Would we have a different approach if we could see into the greater distance?

Contemplation
A long, long time ago there was a story that comes to us through the Old Testament of three men who were thrown into the fire and it did not consume them. It appeared they had another with them, a Presence of a living God who walked with them in those flames. Today, you are not alone no matter what you face. And you can come through this trial so clearly that you don’t even smell like smoke. Wrap yourself in Peace.

Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank you for stories of old and stories new that show us the fires in life are not greater than you. Give us the wisdom to cloak ourselves with Your Peace, not our own, so that we may walk through fires unscathed and light paths for others to follow. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 41 – April 2, 2012

Story Reflection
Recently, I’ve had the pleasure of being a guest in the home of an old friend. They made me feel more than welcomed. They fed me, actually clothed me with more appropriate Florida wear, and one of their wonderful son’s graciously gave up his bed and his room for my stay. Their hospitality, their conversation, and their ‘keeping’ of me was like marrow for my bones.

Which made me start thinking about this gracious thing we call hospitality in the first place. The welcoming, if you will.

Many years ago I traveled with a group of women to a particular conference on faith. They were all Spanish and we had been invited to stay with a friend of theirs. All of us. I don’t remember exactly but I think there were six total. When we arrived at the apartment building where the woman lived she was actually standing outside on her balcony because she had been so excitedly expecting us all day. She shouted and ran down the stairs, hugging us and helping to care bags up the flights of stairs to her apartment. And she spoke very, very fast in Spanish the entire time. She also thought I was Spanish as well and that I understood every word. It took the women with me a moment to finally get a word in and explain that I couldn’t understand her. Very, slow, simple Spanish – sometimes. This outpouring of enthusiasm – not a chance. She flipped the switch to heavily-accented English and showed us her accommodations she had prepared. She had borrowed mattresses from other friends in other apartments and laid them side by side on the floor of her daughters room. Running out of mattresses she had borrowed a box spring from someone and covered it in extra blankets. It was wall to wall mattresses – plus the one box spring. I may have volunteered for that space. It was closest to the bathroom anyway. She had cooked a huge pot of beans and rice and couldn’t wait for us to put our things down and come sit around the table to share stories and a great meal. Let me make this clear to you. Borrowed mattresses on the floor, a pot of beans – and an unapologetic welcoming heart. The woman wasn’t apologizing for her accommodations or her menu. She was wonderfully, over-the-top excited that she had these things to share. And her heart, the pureness of that offering, the humble simplicity of it, made it more than golden.

On the flip side of that – I have a friend that is just the funniest thing. She was once saying goodbye to relatives who said, “Gosh, we sure wish you could just come go with us.” She thought about it a second and said, “Ok, I think I will. Give me a second to go get my suitcase.” Then she proceeded to pack, and go get in the car with them before they could wipe the surprise off the faces. A week later, as she was packing to leave and make her way home they said, “Gosh, we sure wish you could just stay and not go.” So she said, “OK,” put her suitcase down and stayed another week. I don’t think these family members ever offered a half-hearted invitation to anyone again.

This week I return home from the road to Nashville just in time for my son and his family to arrive. While not what I would call company, I certainly want to fix things up, make preparations, clean and somehow offering them the perfect Easter week vacation. That’s a large order. What I need to remember is this . . .

Christ found a someone on the day of the last supper to host him and the disciples unexpectedly. I don’t think the person said – wait, I can’t do it today because I still haven’t mopped the floors. I can’t receive you because our bed is not standard. I can’t host you because I don’t have the right towels or TV.

They opened the upper room. They hosted one of the most amazing stories on Earth.

When God shows up we must be ready to relieve him regardless of the condition our of our hearts. Regardless of what we perceive to be our meager offerings of the moment. We must remember that it is the condition of our souls that reflects the darkness of the moment or the light. It is our mad passion for the reception of God’s presence that makes our offerings solid gold. Regardless of how little we have to work with.

Conversation
What do you expect from someone who opens their doors, their homes, their lives to you? Be Honest. Traveling, sharing, breaking bread – does it matter if your bed is made? Off the floor? Your bathroom private? Your food fresh? How does your expectations of what you wish to receive affect your welcoming of others?

Contemplation
Have you ever turned away an opportunity to be of gracious hospitality because you felt what you had to offer was too little? How does today’s story shine a new light on those feelings?

Prayer
Dear God. Maranatha. And may our hearts be open, welcoming, and passionate about your presence always. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 40 – April 1, 2012

Story Reflection
I would time travel if given the opportunity. It’s one of the things I’ve always thought would be incredible if possible. Not that there is anywhere in particular I would go. There isn’t. And there is. Everywhere. Moments to experience history in the making. To be a part of it if only for a day. And great figures from history known and unknown in the shifting hands of time. But -

That’s not the way we get it given to us. It’s this package again. This twenty-four hours. This day and night thing. We don’t get to step out of our lives and into another time, into another world. We just get to keep moving forward. But in the moving forward we have great choices laid out before us.

Today I’ve had the extreme pleasure of making new friends at a lovely, warm church (Discovery Church – Tampa) and to visit with old classmates and friends. On the same day. New friends and old friends. New stories just being born, old stories being remembered and recaptured. The joy in both of those runs deep and deeper still.

There is a great blessing to be had in living the day at hand but in doing so with a heart that respects where it’s been as it moves forward. Remembering the past, the better and the best, is one of the reasons we build altars – to remember where we’ve been. To take notice of the journey.

Today my journey led me straight into this day, full of the past, full of the present, pointing to the fullness of the future.

I invite you to be a part of what lies ahead in your life. One story, one day, one reflection at a time.

Conversation
How do you approach your days – living in the past? Living in the future? Discuss the importance of remembering what is best from the days and years behind you. Discuss what is beautifully possible about your future, about relationships from your future. What would you like those relationships – newly formed or newly remembered to hold? Consider how to help facilitate that reality.

Contemplation
Consider giving yourself the opportunity to do two things before Easter arrives during this Lent – reconnect with someone from your past in a positive way. (For the record – this doesn’t mean searching down old boyfriends and girlfriends on facebook) It means considering well those who have crossed your path from work, school, moves, and kindnesses and reach out to them in a note, a word, a prayer. Then reach forward by making a new connection with someone in your life you just meet or see on a daily basis. Make the connection a real one.

Prayer
Dear God, you have given us an incredible gift in the value of stories past. In the treasure of old friends, and in the beauty of making new ones. Help us see this gift for what it is, to not take either one of these portions of our lives for granted. To remember that relationships are meant to be real. And lasting. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 39 – March 31, 2012

Story Reflection
Today I’ve been drowning in story in the most wonderful way. I had the pleasure of speaking at the University of Central Florida Book Festival which put me right in the middle of many wonderful authors sharing their words from life and from the page. Amazing and beautiful, inspiring and suspenseful. Wild and wonderful.

One of the questions from the audience was about the fact that I speak on the Power of Story and what exactly that meant. I loved it. It’s the reason for the Lenten journey – because of one great, eternal love story. It’s because the power of story is threaded through us since the beginning of time. We have story, the need for it, the creation of it, the communication of it in our DNA. It’s how we look at one another and understand our common humanity. It’s the way we find out about the people around us and perhaps understand their personalities and their actions a little better.

This time of Lent has brought me to the page over and over again with a story reflection for that day. And so many people have dropped me notes and comments about how these tiny little offerings, about how these simple little stories have helped to guide them through troubled waters. Have helped them get through their days and into their nights.

I encourage you as you go through the days ahead to look at people, to relate to people, with an understanding that they are a walking story with many dimensions beyond what you see. And that as you are passing through their lives that both your stories are overlapping. One becomes a part of the other. Make those crossing moments well lived and worth telling.

Conversation
Are you aware of the stories that are really taking place around you? Or do you seem oblivious to everything that doesn’t have you as the central part of the story? How can we as a group and community began to value the stories of others with love and understanding?

Contemplation
When you look in the mirror do you see the wonderful story that you are? Do you understand the way that your story is part of an amazing tapestry of a tale unfolding. Consider yourself, your past, your present, and what lies ahead in the context of a living story being written. And Embrace the story that belongs to you for all it’s greater goodness.

Prayer
Heavenly Father, You created the Universe and all that it is within the context of an evolving story. Help us to treasure one another as parts of that creation – not the central character where the entire story must play out surrounding us, but one where we are an integral part of the great unfolding known as “the fullness of time.” Help us grasp our exact place on the pages you hold in your hands and to trust you to continue to write out the rest of our days. Amen
Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 38 – March 30, 2012

Story Reflection
Again. This late, late night posting. A friend has pointed out to me that there is more than 40 days in Lent due to the Sunday’s not being ‘officially’ counted. I have no idea how I lived all my life, observed Lent for most of my life, and didn’t realize this. Until I was in the middle of it. Until I was this obligated.

Today I left under the cover of darkness, sun not even threatening to come up as I made my way tot he University of Central Florida Book Festival. I had allowed plenty of time. Ok, just enough time. I went to sleep well after midnight, rose at 4:10 exactly because I looked at my phone and thought It’s now or never, and pushed my feet to the floor. Not too long late, I was out the door, driving through Tennessee towards Chattanooga, Atlanta, and Florida. In all conceivable plans – it was a great one. I skipped the morning rush hour in Nashville and Chattanooga. I ghosted the rush hour in Atlanta. And I was making such good time that I was getting a little prideful. See these feather puff up now. Road warrior indeed. And then south of Atlanta and north of Valdosta traffic came to a complete halt. Complete.

It took a while to surmise that there was trouble of a serious nature. Then an ambulance finally managed to pass three lanes of snarled traffic on the grass median to my left. Shortly thereafter, a fire truck far to my left. We weren’t going anywhere. People began to abandon their cars so to speak. They put them in park, shut off the engines and got out. The man next to me in his car with his wife and two young children said, “We never come this way. Today of all days!” And I nodded. But I had nowhere else to go. There was no other way to Orlando really than South. We parked. We waited. It looked like a bizarre movie scene. For miles and miles nothing but parked cars and people. Finally men began to wander off to the woods along the interstate for a little bathroom break. Being a least part rural southern girl I began to look at the women, think about organizing a few carloads at a time to make it to the break in the woods at the side of the road. Ask for volunteers for lookouts while the other took care of business. Reality is, suddenly, unexpectedly you are going nowhere. At all. Stuck. But the world keeps spinning. And suddenly, all those strangers that were whizzing past one another at eighty miles an hour as complete strangers have a whole lot in common. Are able to make conversation so easily. “Can you see up there?” “No, just more of us parked.” “Must be bad.” “I reckon so.” “Got any water?”

The last question is mostly imaged. It’s me, in my car. Seeing what’s happening and realizing hundreds of people in a flash are trapped and that I normally carry a case of water on a trip but today, half a tiny bottle is all I have left. Half a protein bar. A tiny piece of cheese. I began to take inventory of my stock.

Here’s the thing. Flash back three or four years ago I would have been so frustrated, under deadline, trying to get somewhere. And while a thought about the victims of whatever crash lay ahead of us might have crossed my mind – today it was a different story. Today, not only did I offer up a silent prayer for those people somewhere way up there in trouble of unknown proportion, I was humanly concerned about the multitudes. These people as far as I could see. Having simple things like a safe break in the woods (reality) and food and water and comfort. I got out of my jeep. Pulled a few paperbacks from the back and began signing them for the people in the car next to me. I would have moved along the car lines talking to people until night fell if I had to. Trying to help here and there. But then someone said, “They’re letting us go,” and I got back in the jeep and started it up. Yet, I wouldn’t drive off until I knew that the man next to me had safely strapped in his child, closed the door, and returned to the drivers seat out of harms way. How has this Praying for Strangers journey changed me? I never know until these moments. And then the depth of those changing are so deep, so everlasting, I don’t even have words to answer that question. All I can say is – like this. Honestly, just like this. One day, one moment, one situation, one decision at a time.

Conversation
What does it take as people to shock us into a suddenness that connects us to other human beings? That helps us put the good of others before our own story?

Contemplation
When are you at what you consider your very best? What events have brought that forth in your life?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, help us to remember one soul, one hand, one bottle of water at a time. You asked such simple things of us – visit the sick, remember the imprisoned, feed the hungry, care for the poor – and in so doing to remember and love you. Help us to spread out wings this Lenten season. To not require emergency or tragedy to awaken our hearts to the love you feel for the masses. Give us your heart, your heart, your heart for the people. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 37 – March 29, 2012

Story Reflection
Journey. What a word. A journey it continues to be. These surprising mornings, busy days, and into the nights. Things have not gone as I have planned for the last 30 odd days. Not exactly. And as I write this near midnight I’m still packing to leave home again in a few hours for Orlando. I just realized that my evening event I had planned to attend ends when I thought it began. And that there is a one hour time change not in my favor.

That happens sometimes in life. Once, I was flying home to Panama City, Florida from Kansas City. I had connected like the rest of the world in Atlanta. And on that connection a large group of very, excited people boarded the plane. They were scattered throughout, in various seats but speaking to one another here and there. The plane ride from Atlanta to North Florida is pretty short by all accounts and it wasn’t long before the pilot was announcing that we were descending and arriving. I looked out the window and filled my eyes with blue waters, bays, pine tree tops – home. The man sitting next to me however, became quite agitated. He began to say, “So soon? This can’t be! It’s too soon.”

“No, this is right,” I told him. “See, there’s the bay. See the water.”
“This is Panama City?” he leaned over me, peering out the window, so very confused.
“Yes, Panama City, Florida.”
“Florida! Florida!”
“Yes, Panama City, Florida.”

And then pandemonium kinda broke out between those who had just boarded not so long ago.

“Where did you think you were going?” I asked him as he was literally cluching his head.

“Home. Panama City. Panama.”

I can’t convey to you the ensuing distress these people had. Tears. Fears. People were waiting on them in Panama City, Panama ready to celebrate their long awaited arrival. They had bought their tickets through a travel agency in New York. As I met my family and was being happily ushered home they were all at the ticket counter trying desperately to figure out what to do. Of course they had spent all their money trying to get to Florida. I have no idea what became of them or how their story proceeded. But there is no question about it – they were on a journey that had taken an unexpected turn.

It happens to us in life. We are so focused on where we are going, on what is our destination and the next thing you know we are flying over strange waters, landing in foreign territory.

To be honest, I don’t know how we do it. But we do. We gather our gumption, we say our prayers, we pray for each other and try to find our way again. And we get ourselves back on the road again.

Conversation
What happens when we discover we have suddenly ended up on the wrong exit, have been directed through a detour we hadn’t planned? Is it frustration and fear that carries the day or do we pause, find a compass, and find our way again. Discuss if you think that life would be better if everything was a clear and easy shot, a toll-free road and with no side-tracking journeys.

Contemplation
What would it take to always be able to pull out a compass that points our way again? What would that compass really be for you?

Prayer
God, help us to trust you when we don’t have a clue where we are. Give us wisdom of the spirit to follow the path you have planned for us, to receive a gentle nudge when we are losing our way. And not to lose heart when we discover we are so terribly, far off course. Renew us. Bring us home. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 36 – March 28, 2012

Story Reflection
A few years ago a horrible news story hit the papers and airwaves. It was the one of the killing of journalist Daniel Pearl, particularly memorable because of its horror. I happened to catch an interview after the fact with Daniel’s wife, Marianne. She was being asked about a letter that she had discovered after Daniel’s death that had been written on his computer. It was a letter she had no knowledge of. More a list really. It was a list of things that Daniel loved about her – one being that if she felt like wearing the same shirt two days in a row she would. And the person conducting the interview asked, “How did that make you feel to discover this list?” Her answer boiled down to one word – “Loved.”

You bet it did. To imagine that this busy man, this professional working journalist typed out a list of things he loved about his wife? There are a few love stories out there that might match or rival this tiny little detail but most of them honestly are set between the pages of a novel. No, you don’t have to write to me about how wonderful you love your ‘other’ of twenty-four hours or fifty-two years – I understand that. And for those of you who have already started a note such as this – hang tough a minute. Because I suspect strongly that most people in this world haven’t felt such devotion or if they did it wasn’t lasting. I watched in awe as Marianne Pearl was able to answer this question with such calm assurance. I’m thinking before she ever found that list waiting in the wings of those saved computer files that she knew this one sure thing about her husband – he loved her.

Many people seem to struggle in their understanding of the fact that God so loves them. They think God surely loves that other person that is so smart, wonderful, talented, beautiful – that just maybe He stays up writing lists of the things He loves about them but that one for them would barely be a whisper.

So somehow I was contemplating all of this and I began to think about Jesus. I was thinking about the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t exactly always loved the right way by the people around him. They wanted him to be something he wasn’t – a conquerer. HIs followers wanted him to start a kingdom they could see and touch. The religious leaders of the day wanted him to shut up, sit down, and go away. His family wanted him to stop what he was doing and just come home. His disciples wanted him to appoint them his right hand. The list goes on and on.

They all loved him in their own way but a love you can turn your back on – well, now that’s Divine.

Mariane Pearl had a touch kind of love here on Earth. A surety in life of that love and then proof of its existence even after her lover was no longer visible to the touch.

Let me turn a page for you. So do You. In the secret places of God’s heart, beyond your understanding, you are there. He knows you like no other. He loves you like no other. If there is nothing else that you might grasp during this Lenten season and this journey, get this one true thing. The season of Lent only exists for one reason – so that you might understand once and for all the passionate depth of that love.

Conversation
Discuss why you believe that human beings have such an inherent desire to be loved.

Contemplation
In your private time, consider how your life would change, how it would look differently inside and out, if you felt totally and completely loved.

Prayer
Heavenly Father, open a window into our souls and pour in such love for us that doubt dries up to dust and dies. Empower us through your Divine Mystery to know in this season of sacrifice that we are loved beyond any measure of our understanding. And help us to feel what we cannot see. To believe in what is beyond us. And to love mightily the way we desire to be loved. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 35 – March 27, 2012

Story Reflection
Daily. We have to do everything daily. This 24 hour thing, this night day thing, this life thing. It has it’s times and season and things are broken down for us in blocks for reasons. This manageable bit of time. Jesus talked about this when he said each day had enough trouble of its own. Not to fret about tomorrow because tomorrow would surely come. The sun would rise, the earth would turn. I think he talked about being ready in season and out, and to live in the moment we are living in.

I don’t do that. I worry. I fret. I pout a little here and there. You might not call it pouting but I think it is. When I don’t get my way in life with things and stuff. Stuff and things. And I don’t mean a new car, a larger tv, a diamond ring. I mean the way we want things to be when we want them. I’ve been known to lament a little here and there. As a matter of fact, I think on any given blue Monday, I’ve got lamenting down to an art form.

But here Jesus says all these things about Fret not. Worry not. Abundant life. Peace that passes all understanding. Mine not even for the asking – just mine. Already there, already available. I can’t imagine what it’s going to take for me to understand this and to fully embrace it. I don’t want it to be some meteor hurling to the planet kind of thing. I’d think it would have more to do with just growing up in my faith. In just trusting God to be exactly who He says he is beyond my understanding.

Lent seems an excellent time to me to try once again to grasp the simple language of my faith, the everlasting meaning. Stop worrying. Breathe. Live.

Conversation
How do we let ourselves worry beyond belief and beyond the realms of our faith? Discuss how many times you’ve fretted and worried about things that just not come to pass. Did it add anything extra or of value to your life? Or quiet the opposite?

Contemplation
He is who He says He is. When you meditate, really, deeply get quiet and thing about it, how does this fact of what you really believe in your heart of hearts alter the way you might want to move through the anxieties of this life.

Prayer
Dear God, over and over and over you tell us to stop worrying. To have Peace and to trust you. Over and over and over again we say we will and then we do for all of about 24 seconds. Never-mind making it 24 hours. Experience teaches us we can never really accomplish anything on our own. So, please, by your grace walk us into a new day of living the life you gave us – instead of worrying constantly about the one we are afraid we won’t have. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 34 – March 26, 2012

Story Reflection
We’ve made it through the fifth Sunday in the Lenten season. We are drawing ever closer to that turning point for us – Good Friday – followed by Easter morning but right now historically – Jesus is hiding.

Isn’t that a strange concept? It is to me. He was discussing his identity with some people in the Temple. They didn’t like what he had to say, so they thought they’d just go ahead and stone him. John says, “He hid himself.” And he left. I would imagine in this Gospel of John that Jesus hiding meant he disappeared into a crowd and walked away. But even the slightest concept of him hiding for a second seems bizarre to me. It’s one of the reasons that the world is so much better off without me being God. Some people might go missing but it wouldn’t be me.

But I’m not God at all. I’m very human and there are plenty of days I want to hide. And no one is even throwing stones at me. Not literally anyway. Some days I just feel more vulnerable than others because some days, I am. These days a bad review of any kind really wouldn’t rock me to my knees because frankly I’ve had too many good ones and too many reader letters to let that disturb me. I might get angry for a moment but not weakened. Not doubt my calling or my writing. It’s what I do.

Jesus did a lot of things in the short amount of time of his ministry. But on this particular day, they wanted to stone him for being honest about who he was. I think this is when we are hurt the most. Not when our work is attacked in some way, the product of our labors. But when friends and loved ones say things about us that cut forever, when gossip finds it’s malevolent way back around to our ears. I think the reason it cuts like a knife is that these are people we want to see us for who we truly are and let’s face it, to portray the kindest side of us. Our best side. When people showcase us in an unhealthy way it’s a stoning of a type isn’t it?

Jesus hid because standing there getting stoned wasn’t going to do anything for anyone. And you getting stoned by other people or their words isn’t either. There are times where hiding ourselves is wisdom. Times when our souls know that we need to heal, be still, and be quiet. And the hope is that in doing so, when we emerge from the other-side, we emerge stronger in the knowledge of who we are. And fully embracing the fact that no one’s words but God’s can change that.

Conversation
How do we stone one another with our words and our actions? How can we be honest with ourselves, stop the gossip, the cut-downs, and the negatives? How can we open our fists and drop our rocks?

Contemplation
Do we allow the words other say about us and over us to change what we know about ourselves? Why?

Prayer
Father, you know us inside and out. You know our strengths and weaknesses. We ask that you always show us the truth, that you lead us into changing where we need to change, to stand our ground when we need to not be moved, to never be influenced by the opinion of man, and the wisdom to draw our souls away in hiding when we need to heal in you. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 33 – March 25, 2012

Story Reflection
Death is a pretty serious theme during Lent. Or maybe in my mind. Death of self, dying to the cravings and appetites that can sometime rule us if we aren’t careful. The approaching Death of Jesus as we recall in remembrance. And this happens every year in the midst of what for most of us in our nation begin to experience as Spring. Wherever we may live, snows are melting, trees budding, birds singing. The world begins to wake up and stir and in many ways, we may be pulling at the bits of Lent, wanting any shadow of somber reflection to be cast off. Tired of winter in body and in mind. And boy, do I get that. I love Winter for about – oh, seven days in front of a fireplace. Then I’m ready for Spring. I don’t even get out if I can help it in the Winter. I park in front of the fireplace or heater and generally moan, groan and complain about how cold I am. Ask my family. They’ll tell you the truth.

But then – I have a bit of tendency to tell you the truth in my own right, don’t I? I do my best not to pull punches or hide behind some literary veil of personality and indifference. And after three years of praying for strangers I better not. Here’s what I’ve learned.

On any given day of the year countless people who cross our paths are experiencing a death in their souls in some fashion. A sickness in the family. Financial loss and struggle. Watery doubts of faith. Troubles at home, at work, alone in their minds. And they – is us – if you get my drift. We be them. Because almost all human emotion and struggle has crossed the threshold of each of us. Sometimes hovered there and for some of us, seemed to have moved in, unpacked and stayed.

As we remember the death and sacrifice of Christ, as we lay down tiny pieces of ourselves for only forty days, may we remember that others die daily. One tiny piece of their souls at a time. And sometimes, to my great wonder all they need to resurrect their hope in life, is one tiny word, one touch, from one of us. Be the one.

Conversation
After 33 days of moving through Lent, working in small groups or alone, considering others – how have your views changed. How are people different to you now than they used to be? Do you see yourself, your role in the world, through a different lens?

Contemplation
What could you do in the next 24 hours to lightened the burden of a stranger?

Prayer
Holy Father, give us the wisdom to know that we are never alone in whatever death may enter into our lives. Be it real, be it imagined, help us to remember that you created us as individuals yet all in your image. And in this, our spirits are the united. Open our eyes, our hearts, our hands, to sow the seeds of Spring into the souls of men. And in so doing to breathe in new life. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 32 – March 24, 2012

Story Reflection
To be personally honest with you, I’m kinda sick of Lent. One of my favorite seasons of the Church calendar and its true. And here’s why. I’ve never before in my life done something that seemed so small but required so much of me for Lent. I’m usually of the give up something, Anything, variety. A fast of one thing or the other. But this year, I’ve added these reflections as my daily Lenten sacrifice – daily. That’s really been the tough part. Sometimes posting as late as almost midnight and I think something, surely something in that matters. The discipline if that is the word – but it isn’t. Maybe the dedication. Maybe the promise.

This morning I was reading Charles Spurgeon and it was an excerpt of something he wrote on the night that Jesus was in the garden alone. The night he asked his friends to do only one thing. One tiny thing. Watch – and pray. He didn’t ask them to die for him. Not to be arrested for him. Not to take his place in the grand scheme of things. Nope. Just watch and pray. And he was so desperate he returned three times to say, “Wake up, please, I’m asking you for just this one tiny thing.” Three times.

Sometimes the people closest to us have no idea what agony we are experiencing in our private gardens. We want them to step up to the plate, to pray for us, to be there with us in our darkest hour but for all practice purposes they might as well be totally asleep. Because they are. And we are in agony. A private hell of doubt, fear, and darkness.

Here’s the thing. Follow me but realize this is just for a story picture. Don’t try to develop a theological discussion with me over this issue. I won’t respond. But – Jesus had many followers. They came and went. The disciples stayed. But many, many people heard Jesus during the course of all that fish being lifted up, of all that bread being broken. He had spoken, taught, fed, healed, graced, laughed, lived among so many. And in the back side of my mind I’m thinking that night in the garden, maybe someone, maybe only one person, one little old woman, one young man – was out there somewhere praying for Jesus. Maybe just one small prayer. And maybe that’s the reason he was able to endure that long, dark night.

Eventually, he told the disciples, wake up, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because it didn’t.

In your darkest hour, someone you barely know, possibly a total stranger, is out there praying for you. Don’t fall down completely hopeless if the people around you seem indifferent, sleeping, or Godless. Tonight, I’m saying a prayer for every person who reads these words. Tonight, I ask your prayers for me. And, that is how we survive and walk into a new day. Regardless, of what it holds.

Conversation
Discuss how our nights alone in the Garden sometimes bring us closer to God. And how sometimes we just seem completely hopeless. What are the difference in those stories? How do we manage to embrace the first scenario and skip the second?

Contemplation
In the darkest times of your life, have you considered praying for others? Think of the ways that you could reach out to others in the middle of any pain, perceived past or present – that you might endure.

Prayer
Father, there are nights we feel alone. There are days we feel deserted. There are seasons we feel we are wanderers. That any comfort and true understanding are hopeless destinations. Strengthen us in this season of our lives, in this time of Lent to draw closer to you. And closer still. May anything we face only turn our faces toward you and not inward to our breaking hearts. Let your light fill up the shattered places that only you can see. And thank you for the people who are out there in the world saying prayers on our behalf unbeknownst to us. Bless them gently. Bless them greatly. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 31 – March 23, 2012

Story Reflection
Once upon a time I had a favorite Uncle. Twas the truth. I had one that was a fav also. They were tied actually. But favorite Uncle #1 became very sick a little later in life. Doctors said it was incurable. He moved in which my cousin, his daughter, and was close to bed-ridden, on an oxygen tank constantly and other symptoms I won’t go into. Somehow on one of my visits with him which was daily although he hid this fact so that other people would also visit him – he began to discuss being baptized with me. Or, actually, the fact that he had never been baptized. And it began to bother him. And because it began to bother him, it began to bother me. At the time I worked at an advertising business with a woman who was devout God everything. A wonderful creature she was (and I hope still is since I’ve finally lost touch with her.) On this particular night I told him if he really wanted to be baptized that I would call Darla and see if they could do it at her church. It just so happens that it was a Wednesday night so they had been at church service and when I explained the situation she said the pastor told her to bring him on down. My cousin and I managed to get her father in the car, with his oxygen tank, drive one city over for a late night baptism. Nothing like it. When we arrived at the church they apologied profusely and said although they could do the service, the water was freezing cold as they hadn’t planned on baptizing anyone and turned on the heater. My Uncle said he’d go forward anyway. They put a white gown on him, he pulled his oxygen tank feebly on shaky, cold legs up to the baptismal. Then he finally had to take the nose guard off and let go of the tank, walk the steps down into the freezing water which seemed that it would honestly kill him from the shock. My cousin and I clasped hands, sitting in chairs in front, and cried. We thought we had delivered him only to kill him. Then the pastor began to speak over him and to take him under the water three times. It was all very – Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. And on the final time that Uncle rose from that watery grave he came up with both arms raised above his head, his hands clenched in victory and a smile that was other-worldly. That’s when my cousin and I really cried because to be honest, we had never seen anything just like it. There was this – Before and after. Then and now.

There are those very real, very mystical, very unexplainable moments in life and if we try to reason them into being they disappear between our fingers. We shouldn’t do that to the little mercies God shows us, these little windows into something bigger and beyond the days as we perceive them. My uncle knew this. He had one of those life changing, line in the sand, different dimension moments. He was never the same. He got better. He got a little car, an apartment of his own. Visited loved ones, told stories, laughed and lived. Lived big.

I wish I could give us all a moment like this. Something watery and full of the kind of magic that only God can create. But . . .

We don’t all get those. Sometimes the best we can do is put one foot in front of the other. A faith that moves forward in spite of the absense of lightning bolt moments. A slow moving river inside of us. A deep calls to deep silent kind of faith.

Life changing moments? Embrace them, hold onto them, treasure them – and remind yourself on a regular basis that they really happened. Don’t listen to the naysayers. And if you are in this world without that kind of Divine drama – still believe. Our God is full of majesty and mystery. Red seas and silent moments. All as real as the next one.

Conversation
Is God more real in the dramatic moments of our lives or in the small, still voice? Share examples of events in your life that have been moments in the sand, where change has been significant and long lasting. Discuss times where the impression has been smaller, quieter, but just as real.

Contemplation
How do we continue to survive as a people of God, as a Godly person, without having moments that seem dramatic? What stories either from personal experience or someone you know do you personally cling to that have strengthen your faith walk?

Prayer
Holy, holy, holy. We thank you for the mysteries that you are that we will never, ever, conceive and figure out. For the nameless acts you do to part the waters of our souls so that we rise yet again from the dead in you. As we move forward toward a glorious day of reconciliation, of resurrection, help us to remember that it is in dying that we breathe in new life. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 30 – March 22, 2012

Story Reflection
Occasionally, I remember a silent prayer said for a stranger many years ago. This tiny instances always surprise me when they surface. It’s a funny thing to remember I did something like that long before I had this resolution thing to Pray for a Stranger everyday. But it happened.

Years ago my Mother hired a precious woman to be our live in babysitter. This may seem bizarre but for a season my mother worked nights managing a restaurant, my father was away in the Army and we had no one else at home with us at the time. Enter the babysitter. She was sweet, warm, loving, wonderful in every way. Three days into the job it became apparent that she also had a drinking problem. I was twelve years old and remember sitting up with her late one night in our den. The lights as I remember were out and only the kitchen light came streaming in. She began to tell me her story and I listened. It had been a long and winding road downward. Her husband had divorced her and received custody of the children. She was broken. And the most bizarre thing happened – I offered to pray with her, to pray for her. And then she was crying and I was saying this prayer that was beyond anything you would imagine a twelve year old could say. I guess because it was. What I’m thinking is that it was somehow the words she needed to hear, or the ones God knew she needed spoken over her life. I can’t tell you enough how this wasn’t my style. It wasn’t something I ordinarily did – ever. But on this given night, God met that woman where she was. I just happened to be a part of it. She didn’t stay long with us. Ultimately, it wasn’t going to be a good fit. But that evening I had with her, foreshadowed something happening now many years later. And it taught me that people are so much more hungry for a prayer whispered in the dark than we ever seem to truly realize.

EConversation for Small Groups
Have there been times in your life where you surprised yourself by stepping into someone else’s life or situation? Has anyone ever done such a thing unexpectedly for you? Do you believe there is a way for us to increase our sensitivity to the moments where we could be used in such small but surprising ways?

Contemplation for Journaling
There are times where we have opportunities to give a hand or a kind word but we let them pass us by. Do you have any times what you can remember where you didn’t take action when you wished you had? What is the one characteristic you wish you possessed to help you to walk in the blessing of being a blessing?

Prayer
God, show us the windows and doors we might walk through to enter someone’s life in such a way that they feel your presence. If it’s words we need to offer, please inspire them. If it’s a prayer, grant us grace to speak it. If it’s something other, show us where to being. Thank you for making our walk a human walk filled with people created in your image. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 29 – March 21, 2012

Story Reflection
Many years ago my sons sat me down at a restaurant table for lunch and opened up the conversation like this . . .
“Mom, there is something serious we’ve been wanting to talk to you about and we want an honest answer.”
This is the kind of thing a mother loves. For teenage boys to want to have a serious talk with their Mom normally only happens at rare moments like in the kitchen at midnight when bumping into each other trying to get a snack. Not a preordained set up. I waited for the inevitable bomb to drop. It did. This was it.
“We’ve wondered for years and now we want to know the honest truth once and for all – Which one of us is your favorite?”
I busted out laughing. Partial relief, partial absurdity for me.
“Your both my favorite,” I said and meant ever word of it. But they continued egging at me with, “No, really we want to know. We won’t be mad.”
But I had answered honestly. Absolutely, honestly. “You’re my favorite Nick,” I told the oldest, “And you’re my favorite Chris,” I told the ‘baby’.
They finally gave up – disgusted with my inability to choose.
Flash forward a few years and just last week I was driving with our granddaughters who are known as, “The Adorables.” to my readers. They have taken this title on quite seriously also. They were both in the car on a recent return from the beach when I was visiting with them and the oldest who is all of nine says to me,
“Zaza, now that we have this time, there is something we want to know. Which Adorable is your favorite Adorable?”
To which I bust out laughing.
“Really,” she says, “We want to know.”
“You’re both my favorite Adorable,” I tell her honestly. “You’re my favorite Bella, she’s my favorite Bug.”
More, “But, Really?!”
Until I finally change the subject and turn on the radio.
Later that night Bug the early bird is in bed and Bella the night owl wide awake as she slides in next to me in the big easy chair, leans in and whispers, “Now that she’s asleep, who is really your favorite adorable?”
Again, I have to say, “I have no favorites.” But finally I relent and tell her but you were my first adorable and you always will be that. She gives a serious nod of her head and that seems to satisfy her. I don’t add and Bug is my the baby and always will be. No need to stir those waters again.
It’s funny how we have some built in little DNA button that seems to make us desire so much to be the favorite.
That gang hanging with Jesus had the same issue. “Which one? Who will sit at your right hand? Who do you like best? Really?”
“Not happening,” Jesus told them. “You don’t even know what you’re asking. Clueless – everyone of you.”
You don’t mind me paraphrasing a little do you? But you get the idea. It’s not a far-fetched thing from an an old, lost story. It’s the same story today as it was then. Pick me for the team, choose me as your best friend, choose me over all other women, all other men. Touch me and tell me I am unique, different, your favorite. That I hold a special place that no one else can fill.
My grandmother had seven children. She lost one that was ‘full grown’ who had children of her own. A favorite aunt of mine that I remember from the tiniest of ages. She was walking Peace. When she walked into a room, the air changed. I was young enough to know this things back then. And then she was gone and the night my Grandmother received the news, the night the call came, she was with me. And I felt her pain because I was young enough to know these things.

Some poor soul trying to comfort her said, “At least you have six children left.”

And now I’m older and I know a few more things. Six children left standing in the room will never replace the one missing. Never.

We all have the tiny seed in our souls that whispers, “Who? Who, really.” And silently breathes, Choose me. Please.

I’ve prayed for over a thousand strangers. Everyday I get closer to looking at people the way God does. To Behold them from the inside out instead of the other way around. And I’ve got this very strong suspicion that we are all his favorite. Callused and cute. Everone.

Conversation
Favorites play a big part in our lives. We have favorite songs, favorite ice cream flavors, favorite cities. How do the way we shift through our favorite people affect our little worlds we call our life? Are they based on special criteria? If so, how do we pick and choose? And why do we pick at all? Discuss how we could possibly pause our favorite buttons in life, if only for Lent, to look out at the world just a little bit differently.

Contemplation
Have you ever felt you were someone’s favorite? Have you felt all of your life that you weren’t? That the world would choose a million people over you? And when you really sit and contemplate, journal, walk, think, feel – can you believe for even a flash of a moment that you are one of God’s favorites?

Prayer
Father, here we are saying pick me. Choose me for just a moment. Cast your eyes on me and somehow by your grace see me as a good thing. Then help me to look at others with those same eyes. Today, tonight. Always. Amen
Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 28 – March 20, 2012

Story Reflection
Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to. The people we want to love us don’t always do that. Or they don’t always love us the way we wish they would. In that company would be Parents, Spouses, Siblings or even our Children. Even our Best Friends. And those who swear to stand by us till the living end don’t always make it over that finish line.

There are times that I have been really great at loving with all my heart, unconditionally, without judgement. There have been times I’ve let friends down, that I didn’t seem to return their love or step up to the plate when they needed me, the way they needed me.

Peter had a really bad moment with the friend he loved most – Jesus. Letting him down would be an understatement. While he didn’t sell him out for pieces of silver, perhaps he did something even more painful – he denied he’d ever known him. Not his name, not his face, not his truth. And here’s the thing – Jesus as God incarnate saw it coming. He knew the one who had so passionately followed would suddenly fail. That in that moment his love for himself would far outweigh his love for his friend.

We are often shocked by Peter’s actions and denials. I know I am. I want to say, “Nay, nay, not I. I’d be in that group of women that followed Jesus to the cross.” Isn’t that a warm thought? Don’t we always want to believe that about ourselves? But then I know God is still asking, “One of mine? Hanging with me? Trusting me today? Believing what I say today?”

Here’s the thing. Hanging with God in church? Pretty easy if it’s your community and you have developed the habit, that attending regularly is one of the bedrocks of your belief. Private prayer and study? Maybe we can manage doing that faithfully also. But in the moments that we are challenged, really challenged? It becomes tough if we are honest with ourselves. I don’t mean the challenges of someone questioning our faith – I mean the challenges of our everyday life that question our faith constantly. Those moments we feel hopeless without reason. The moments we want to kind of say to God, “You know, this is just not the way I had envisioned it. And I’m wanting to check out of being – loving, giving, forgiving, patient, kind, trusting – and so forth. So tired of saying, “Yes, I know him, and the way you know I do is because I walk through this journey like He did. Like he continues to do through us. Suddenly, we are tired and in those moments we stand alone in our houses, look in our mirrors, we all see Peter’s. Someone who appears to be denying that they are a follower at all.

It’s ok. Jesus saw this, too. Our ups and downs. Our clinging to our belief even when we are standing on shaky ground. When we say through clenched teeth, “Thy will be done.” And when we don’t even go that far – we just change the channel. And he reminds us still – When you turn around, when you come to yourself and return to me, go strengthen your brothers, your sisters. They’re going to need it.”

And we do.

The Conversation
How do we deny being followers of Jesus? Are we ever surprised by the private struggles we have with our faith? How do those struggles serve to strengthen us in the long run? Or do they? If so, how do we help those around us through our trials?

Contemplation
In our private moments, in the silences of our lives, we need to be honest with God about where we deny Him in our hearts and in our days. Without kicking ourselves which doesn’t do us or God any good – but raising the bar of our awareness just the same.

Prayer
Holy Father, help us to be honest with ourselves, honest with you. You’ve seen all our Peter moments in advance. The great ones where we’ve stepped out of our boats and our comfort zones and the ones not so great. The moments the waves frighten us, and the moments we deny you. Forgive us and at the same time, help us to forgive ourselves. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 27 – March 19, 2012

Story Reflection
The green is returning to Tennessee, buds are on the on trees, baseball season is in swing, and we are rounding second base on Lent. We know what’s coming. Easter. Church. Bright dresses, hats, baskets, pastel eggs. Chocolate bunnies. The traditions we have created are moving toward us with lightning speed. Lent, for us, is a specific 40 days on a calendar. It’s a clear and easy time of – Begin Here and The Finish Line. A few thousand years ago, not so much.

It was a time of troubles and wild imaginings. A time of wonder and wishing. For awhile, it became a time of Why and What could have been, and What just happened? Such high hopes, a day of such wild joy and celebration that the rocks could have cried out. Then darkness. Then confusion. Without any built in conclusion, no easy finish line, no instruction manual to get us beyond the moment.

Recently, my cousin was reading one of my novels and said – “This is kinda scary.”

“No, not really. It’s all good.”

She answered me without missing a beat, “But you know how it’s going to turn out. You know the ending at the beginning.”

She’s right. She knows me well. I begin at the beginning and before very long I will have an ending, a place that I know I’m working towards. Those one hundred thousand words in the middle remain a mystery to me. They unfold one page, one day at time.

Many years ago, the followers of Jesus knew a little about the beginning, but they didn’t expect the ending. They hoped and assumed and imagined. Nothing turned out the way they had planned. But an unseen God saw. An unseen God knew. Beginning to End. Alpha and Omega. And He still does. He has always known the end of days and the end of what we observe now in remembrance called Lent.

Likewise, as we struggle with all the unseen factors of our days ahead, there is still someone who knows how one season in our lives will move into another. There is one who has seen the end of our days at the beginning of all of them. All of our serious confusion can be laid to rest. Just as we have the privilege of knowing that we move surely toward Easter morning, as the first breath of Spring clasps the earth, we can know that our ending, however it may arrive, will only signal a turning of the page. And that all is well.

Conversation
Why do we desire so strongly to see into the future? What is it about knowing future events that cries out to us? Do we feel we could change the outcome? And are we aware of how the changing of one factor to our benefit in the short run might harm a multitude of people around us in the long term. Or can we just be satisfied with not knowing? With learning to live while we are living?

Contemplation
One page, one day at time. Doing otherwise is not only fretting and finagling future events, it robs us of the beauty of the moment. Consider writing one page about the present, and the good things in your life.

Prayer
Oh Ancient of Days, we don’t always know how to get from moment to moment. We like knowing that the days on the church calendar are set, dependable, known. Yet, you remain the great unknown, the eternal mystery. The closer we draw to you, the deeper our awareness of the magnitude of that mystery. And we embrace that. Help us to also embrace the mystery of our days. To allow events to unfold one minute at time, and to be fully present in the life you given us – not forever casting our glances forward fearful or wondering. Help us to be fully alive in the mystery that is you. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 26 – March 18, 2012

Story Reflection
I was once rescued in the strangest of ways, my prayers answered so differently than what I might have wished or hoped for. I will keep this short as the full version of the story can be found here and there or pull my arm sometime in person when I’m visiting and I will tell it the long way home. For now, this is what happened.

My husband and I once lived on our property in North Florida. At the time, we were living in our Airstream. A nice size one mind you but still an Airstream which as everyone knows is a land yacht and the cadillac of campers. We spent nights around our campfire listening to American Roots Radio show and watching for shooting stars. It also gave me a chance to walk on deserted dirt roads for miles. Enter the story.

This day I’m walking along at a good pace but then these two slinky dogs come out of nowhere and start following me. Before very long they are joined by a third. They follow me close and closer still. And then they begin to circle me. Continuously. No amount of stick throwing or, ‘Go home!’ affects them. They follow, they move in, they are in hungry dog formation. I begin to pray as I’m alone, without a weapon (*see gun in the Southern dictionary for protect thyself alone on deserted roads), and in a deserted spot. The dogs keep following and my prayers turn to something like ‘Smote them down God with your greatest smotest. Strike ‘em with lightning. Turn them to ashes in a blink of an eye.!!!” I wanted immediate deliverance with a little drama. I’m a dog lover mind you. A dog spoiler if you will but these are not those kind of dogs. Not anymore. It’s going to be me – or them. So I’m walking backwards, sideways, yelling and praying. And then I see this old man walking through the woods towards to the road I’m walking on. He stops before he reaches me, still close to the woods edge. Has a grey beard down his chest, grey hair, old, odd clothes, suspenders. Like a an old 49′er Gold Miner. Like someone from another time. He just stares at me.

“These your dogs?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, ‘No.’

“Look,” I tell him. “I’m just trying to get home.”

He pauses for a little while, no reaction. No word. Then he seems to give a half nod to me, a kind of signal of understanding. His right arm shoots up in air, his finger pointed to the sky, and yells – “hitonouttaere” Which when translated means “Get on out of here!” But the dogs understood as well as I did because they turned and took off like they had been struck by lightning just not of the serious smotest variety. Seriously. Running as if their tails were on fire. “Thank you.” I told him. He just nodded, not a word, and turned and began to walk back into the woods. I wasted no time to turn in the direction of our land and head for ‘home.’ No looking back.
I’ve often wondered a few things about that man. Was he a hermit hidden back up in those trees somewhere? A man beyond the edges of time who refused to cooperate with the clock of years? An angel of strange disguise? I don’t know, have no answers to that mystery. But I do know. God showed up and answered my prayers. No puff of smoke, no lightning bolts, but deliverance all the same.

Jesus showed up the same way. Walking and tallking – laughing, passing out fishing advice. Eating and healing. Here came deliverance in this very human, not planning to take the world over package. Truth being, it’s not neccassary to take over what belongs to you entirely. Here came this man thousands of years ago now and still mystically approaches us, in our midst. One we choose or reject, that looks so different than the delieverience we were hoping for. Not a quiet moment alone but well, lightning, movie effects, a great, big musical score.

But when I turned that day and began to walk the rest of the way home I knew a few things. My panicky fear was completely gone. I really didn’t keep looking back, I didn’t search the woods to the sides of me or ahead of me. I know no other wild dogs were going to find or follow me that day. And wonder, a true sense of wonder tagged along in my heart.

God’s Deliverance always possesss these elements. Wonder, Peace, and the surprising, sudden absesnce of fear. Now if only we can learn to walk in those things before I walk out tthe door because ultimate and for all time – we have been delievered.

Conversation
Has God ever moved in your life where in retrospect you look back and realize that something was inspired although at the time it wasn’t the answer you were hoping for? How do we help one another in a community not be trapped on deserted roads in life? To not be caught by surprise by the flank attacks of enemies of the light?

Contemplation
There is a faith can move a thousand mountains, faith the size of grain of mustard seed, and faith that clings to just one last hope for deliverance from anything we are faced with. What kind of faith travels with you most? Do you feel it’s ok to have a faith that rises and falls like the tide, higher and stronger some days? At low tide on others? How can you personally strengthen your faith in good times or bad so that it carries you safely down unexpected roads in life?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, you alone know the pitfalls, the trials, and the troubles that may await us in this life. Prepare us God to be full of courage at the times where we are caught by surprise by anything that arrises. Those unexpected places in life that frightened us and fill us with panic. Calm us, Lord. Oh, calm the fearful, troubled waters of our hearts, and continually fill us with your Peace that passes all understanding. Even our own. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 25 – March 17, 2012

 Story Reflection

I’m not everyone’s type of writer. I don’t read what everyone else reads, or my family reads, or what some of my readers read. I don’t always fit into any particular writerly clique. I’m Southern literary – but not that kind. I’m Southern Gothic – but not that kind. I’m Magical Realism – But not that kind. And sometimes I’m a Christian girl – but not that kind. I’m the Queen of the Misfits. But I loosely steal that from what I believe is Ray Bradbury. If not – I’m stealing it from someone.

I know what it means to both belong and not to belong at the same time. As Groucho Marx once reportedly wrote -

“I wouldn’t belong to a club that would have me as a member.” That’s the fun side of being different – if you accept me, well, I’m outta here.

The sad thing is, I believe really and truly we are all different. I think deep, down inside we are all misfits. And I don’t care how many clubs, societies, fraternities, or organizations we belong to, there is always a part of society that is ‘other’ to which we don’t belong once we’ve colored ourselves as a particular group. And I think Jesus knew the truth. I think he saw right through all the attempts of those around him to be something other than they were. I think he saw them in all their misfit glory. It healed some, angered many. When someone doesn’t want their true nature to be discovered they work very hard to disguise it as otherwise. And I think that is true when we work so very hard just to pretend. Just to make others think that we are happy or that everything is ok. When it is not.

In the middle of Lent, in the middle of life, in the middle of everything, I have continued to step up to people here and there (not everyday) but some days and tell them they were my stranger. That later I’d be praying blessings for their life. Let me tell you the one thing that I get right in doing this. Ok, the one thing that I’m certain of I get right. I do not judge these people. I never feel like my prayers for them will be more righteous than a prayer they might say for me. Never. I don’t care who they are, what they look like, where they are from, what they have or don’t have, or what troubles they may be walking through. From the moment I speak to them they get one thing down right away – I am not being self-righteous or religious, there isn’t a bone in my body that thinks I am better than them, more important to God than them, or getting it more right than them. And this they know. People put out certain vibes, oh yes they do. When someone’s angry you can feel it if they are just standing in front of you in line. Frustrated, same thing. Nervous on a plane flight – check. The only thing I’ve discovered that people can really hide is how scared, lonely, hurting that they are in life. Until someone speaks to them in love- without judgement.

We are all misfits. Like it or not. Popular or not. On the vestry or not. President of something or other or not. You don’t have to be just like me, I don’t have to be just like you. But we do have to cross those invisible lines of being real, one day and one human at a time.

The Conversation
Why is it difficult for people to forgive others for being different? Why do we feel we are superior to anyone – for any reason. Be honest with each other. Don’t pretend we don’t. We do. Please discuss ways that we can shatter those invisible walls and approach people in all walks of life throughout our days as equals.

Contemplation
How has not belonging to a group ever injured you at any age? How have you ever injured others? If Jesus were to look directly at you in a crowd, look through the layers of you to the truth – what would he have to be looking through? What are those layers made of? And can you begin to remove them one by one?

Prayer

God, by your grace fill us with you light and truth. Help us to be absolutely real with people we encounter. Help us to approach people ever day of our lives without judgement. Help us to see beyond a thousand veils of others,  and beyond the layers that we create to put a wall between us them. When we look in the mirror, help us to the see the misfit part of our souls with all honesty that we may walk out into the world less perfect but more perfectly like you. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 24 – Friday, March 15, 2012

Story Reflection
It was just another special day. I had the pleasure of going shoe shopping with Adorable #1, the Beautiful Ella a few days ago before returning home last night. Shoes procured, we stepped into a little sandwich shop for lunch. It’s a place where you order at the counter and The Bella knows exactly what she wants. I ask the girl behind the counter what she recommends and order that, get our drinks, pay and begin to walk away. And then I back up and ask her name, tell her what I’ve said to so many – Today your my special stranger. And tonight before I go to sleep I’ll be /Praying blessings and all God’s goodness for your life.

She stops speaking, has a funny look in her eye, tries to say something – and can’t. I stop walking away and ask her, “What is it?” And then she says those words i’ve heard so many times this past three years, “You have no idea how much that means to me.” She says these words as she is crying and they wash over me like real water, they taste like new wine. I begin to cry as well and when she tries to ask my name – I can’t even answer her. She has to get off of the cash register and go to the kitchen to take a break because she is still crying and can’t speak. I have to sit down and eat to collect myself. And isn’t that amazing. Because it’s been so long that I’ve been doing this that it could become routine. So long that I could feel like I’m going through the motions and that while I may have a pocketful of stories, a book full of stories, that I could begin to believe me saying one thing to one person, this one tiny thing, really doesn’t matter that much.

But I’m here to tell you – it matters.

It certainly mattered to the wonderful, young woman I crossed paths with at the restaurant. So much so she was moved beyond measure and had to take a break. And it mattered so much to me that it mattered so much to her that I had to take a break.

I gave her my name and this website before I left. She gave me a hug and whispered, Thank you. I could have told her the same thing. Thank you for keeping me on a path of prayer. And for remembering that I am walking it out one day, one person at a time.

The Conversation
How do we edify one another with our stories? With our reception to each other and our honest reactions? Do we as a people keep ourselves a little too distant, a little too reserved to make a difference in someones life? If so, why? And how do we overcome that?

Contemplation
When is the last time someone told you something that made you feel special or like you stood out from the crowd? If God could say something to you, something so that you could hear it and believe it – what would you hope that it would be?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, help us see each other as you see us. Open our eyes to the walking stories of the people before us, to not take for granted their smiles and their thank you’s – the pleasantries of our day. A bushel of, “I’m fine’s.” Help us by your Spirit see beyond the veil of a strangers armor and to say the words we need to say. And to be able to hear those words for ourselves when you speak them over us.

Praying for Strangers
A Lenten Journey
Day 23 – Thursday, March 15, 2012

Story Reflection
Yes, it’s another late night Lenten posting for a continuing journey that I somehow thought I would write in advance of Lent. All forty days worth. Why I thought this possible I do not know. In the same way, I had every intention of leaving the East Coast and driving twelve hours to Nashville, taking a break at a lovely little restaurant where I’d sit and write the Lenten journey story I had in mind all day. Not so. I drove, and drove. The traffic would be too heavy to stop, then I would get off at an exit, look around at the middle of nothing and nowhere and realize I was twelve miles from a restaurant only to get right back on and continue heading due West. My husband kept calling my cell to say where are you now? and all of these things added up to the fact that taking the time to leisurely relax, catch my breath from this long drive, take a break and write was not happening. When I arrived home my husband had a special surprise he had cooked up waiting for me on the front porch along with the sunset through the trees and out over these Tennessee Hills. We sat and laughed, talked and caught up while I petted big dog Titan on the head and passed out hugs.

A little while later we drove down to the closest place to our house which is a combination restaurant/bar and ordered hamburgers while we took in the fact that it was Karaoke night – something we had not expected. One thing is for certain – Nashville is not lacking in the talent competition and selections ranged from Jim Reeves, Make the World Go Away to Prince’s Purple Rain. I kid you not. All this while some of the children present happened to be twirling hoola hoops on a makeshift dance floor with disco lights. My husband and I smiled through our burgers – a lot. And sometimes sang along under our breath, taking in this wild menagerie of people having a great time and not in a bad way I must add. Mom’s and Dad’s, Grandmothers and Grandad’s, Sisters and so forth. Obviously a lot of family members and friends who had turned out to cheer their loved ones on. And this wasn’t a contest Karaoke event but just a regular Thursday night crowd. One man sang from the stage with his Cane, Crocks, and Cowboy Hat on. My husband would add, “And he was wearing suspenders.” He had a great voice.

The only distracting undercurrent of the entire evening was that I was thinking lent, lent, lent. “Tomorrow,” husband said. “No, it’s Lent.” I told him. And Lent waits for no one. Or at least we hope our commitments to God and to others will be something we pull off with some semblance of respect.

But – homecomings. They are critically important. They hold a special place in our lives, and rightfully so. Consider the very special days when our military members return to their families. Other things, our regular schedules can take a backseat to the occassion. Kill the fatted calf, call the neighbors, strike up the band. Tonight, we celebrate.

Tonight was truely a homecoming for me from the moment I laid eyes on this hills turning green, pulled into my drive, walked up my porch and looked out at that sunset with my husband. It continued throughout the evening in a spirit of true celebration and I walked through my house giving thanks for these walls so much in need of paintjob and a hundred other little projects. I felt completely like George Bailey in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ Very, “Hello Bedford Halls, Hello you old beautiful, Savings and Loan, Hello you old, drafty house.” And I paraphrase George terribly here.

Point being . . . sometimes the journey is no more about what we think it is about than George Baily did. It’s just not the destination that we had planned.
But that doesn’t make it any less remarkable or Divine. Sometimes we miss the celebration focused on the party we had planned instead of being full alive in the midst of the one around us.

I’m home safe and sound from a long journey. The man who loves me was waiting, the people in the neighborhood were dancing, the moon rises, and the stars watch. This, right now is our Lenten offering. Being with each other. Being thankful. Watching the night sky in wonder.

*The Conversation
Have there been times in your lives where you were so focused on one aspect of journey, a portion of your life, that you seemed to miss life itself? How can we assist one another in embracing a spirit of homecoming? Must it be an event or is it more of an attitude?

*Contemplation
This is your life – worthy of celebration, and worthy of a special homecoming. If you were to be loved the way that you think is important to you now, that would that homecoming look like? How has it changed this past year?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, our ways are not your ways, our thoughts not your thoughts. Bless us through our faith that we may not be perpetually side-tracked from the things that you consider of paramount importance for us. And help us to not to wait for time to freeze, for all out projects to be completed, for our little words to become perfected before we kneel once again at your feet and whisper, “Take all of me,” and mean it in and out of Lenten season. Help us to be prepared to see you God in all the unexpected place where you may lead us. Amen

(Journally and small Groups have been moved to The Conversation and Contemplation)
Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 22 – March 14, 2012

Lent is a long season. To begin with forty days really doesn’t seem that long. A few weeks into lent and we are half-way there. But then this morning I began to count the Sundays in Lent and the Sundays left. There is still next Sunday and then the Sunday after that. And then the Sunday after that. Suddenly this time of reflection and introspection, this drawing nearer to God, considering myself and my ways – is wearing me out. Suddenly, it seems like it will never end. It’s been twenty-two days. I haven’t even given anything up this year if you will. I haven’t stopped eating or drinking anything differently (although Lent’s not over and I may just lay a few things down for a few days) but the point is, this is more God stuff and less of my regular work stuff than I am used to. It’s the change itself that is taxing. And the only change is a heightened sense of awareness of God. I’m wondering if I continue this way, glancing inward and upward more often, if the journey will become easier much like a muscle being developed. I wonder if it will be like the past years of Praying for Strangers. If the reaching upward, praying outward, and looking inward can be combined into something strange and wonderful. A rather intense but very real and personal relationship with God, with my neighbors in life, with myself. If Lent is meant to be a time for personal reflection, perhaps as it progresses it can also be a time of renewal and rebirth. And revelation.

Journal
How have times in your life where you have paused for reflection or self-inventory seemed to you? Do you embrace them or will them away? Write about experiences where renewal has also been a time of recreation.

Small Groups
Discuss how is Lent progressing for the group as a whole. How is it affecting individual members of the group? Have there been any significant changes in the way you see yourselves? Each other? The world?

Prayer
Heavenly Creator, give us the breath of life that we may walk out this time of change, of reflection, of renewal. Help us not to watch the calendar counting the days until we can walk away from you, but to utilize this time of focus as an opportunity to draw closer to your presence and to understanding who we are in you. And who you are in us. Amen
Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 21 – March 13, 2012

Story Reflection
I’ve been taking care of The Adorables for my son and his wife to have a few days of vacation time alone in the mountains. He gave me numerous instructions before he left and I admonished him to please not be texting me every morning to see if the baby girl child made the bus but just to relax. “Oh, I’m texting, Mom,” he says. “Look, I’m a professional,” I tell him. “I write, I publish, I speak, I have a radio show – really I can do this.” “Yeah,” he says, “but this is different. You haven’t had bus duty for a long time.”

What’s the big deal, I’m thinking. I’ve been getting up at five, six at the latest for some days, pushing it to seven central if I’m really sleeping late. I can do the bus thing. But – it is a little different this whole homework, bathtime, dinnertime, bedtime routine. And the Daylight savings time is still throwing us for a loop. I think we were out last night for our evening walk when we should have all been in bed. As it was I crashed a little after midnight with my alarm set for Six am. Then I woke this morning to the sound of little voices. Little voices are precious but this means I didn’t wake up to wake them up and this means the bus may be gone. I look at the clock. 6:45. The bus will arrive in thirty minutes. I fly out of bed and downstairs. When what to my wondering eyes do appear but . . .

The older adorable who home schools exceedingly well but is not an early riser (understatement) is up with her little sister. She has her little sister dressed, eating breakfast, is packing her lunch and has gone over her speech words with her. The only thing left is the brushing of teeth and the styling of that beautiful long hair which she seems to have well under control as well. I make coffee and just stayed out of their way and watched in amazement as this unfolds. The big sister is in charge and everything is moving better than clockwork. The little sister is cooperating with everything – including the hair brushing. Then she walks her to the bus stop, waits for her board, and returns to declare she’s going to start on her own schoolwork now.

I’m still wondering what just happened, how it happened, and counting my blessings. I have to call my sister the early riser who is an hour earlier than I am and tell her what just happened. “That had to be God,” she says. She has two children their ages she gets on a bus every morning. She’s right. It was too wonderfully, bizarre not to be Divine.

Which reminded me out of the blue of this.

I once had a dream that I was on a sailboat with God and we were out into the deep blue. The dream was a long time ago but trust me, these kind of dreams you don’t easily or readily forget. God was doing the sailing and I was doing the riding along. And the entire time I kept saying, “Let me. Can I steer? Can I do that? I can do that?” as if I was two years old in the ‘me do and me know everything’ stage. God just smiled and kept steering. Finally, after much whining and pleading and begging on my part, God steps back and gives me control and sits down. This is what happened immediately. I can’t stress the immediately enough.

I saw how far out we were and began looking for shore. I began to shake realizing how very, very deep the water was that we were in. I began to look for sharks in the water. God sat peaceful, smiling, and I dare to say all knowing. “Shouldn’t we go back?” I asked him, my voice literally trembling. “Aren’t we too far out? Don’t you think we are too far out?” I searched desperately for a sign of the shoreline anywhere but there was nothing. And as much absolute fun as I had been having when God was in control, I was now terrified of both the depth, and the sharks. I hadn’t even thought of sharks before but now they were prevalent in my mind. They were inevitable.

I looked over at God again. Relaxed, smiling and at Peace.

Then I woke up. I didn’t need a degree in Psychology or in Dream Interpretation to get that one down. The times I think I’ve got it, easy-peasy I’m in charge – I don’t. When I allow God to be in control, really in control, it does matter how deep the water. And the sharks in life may be there, out there, or circling, but they really are not in the foreground because ultimately they don’t matter. Being on the boat with God matters. Trusting God matters. Admitting to ourselves that just when we think we have it all together, we don’t matters. And it’s a good lesson to grasp during Lent.

Journal
How has God surprised you by showing up and being in control? Do you still find it hard to just let God ‘take the wheel’ as the popular song says?

Small Groups
Share stories of times that God’s intervention provided a better outcome than you might have achieved on your own.

Prayer
Holy One, your Peace we seek. Not only during our days but in the moments we must decide to trust you or not to trust you. Give us a spiritual rudder Lord deep inside that will steer us in the right direction. Help us always to know that no matter how deep the water, no matter the monsters we fear lurking in the dark beneath us, that your presence is a calming force and that if we will but believe and receive, then you are with us always. Even till the end of time. Amen
Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 20 – March 12, 2012

Story Reflection

Today was an interesting day. I took my husband to the airport to fly back to Nashville. It was a simple thing. The reservations were made, the ticket purchased, an email received to confirm the flight, and we were on time. The only problem was upon checking in husband discovered that we were at the wrong airport. Neither of us had thought to check the location of the departure location as we just assumed that he would be departing from the same airport that he had arrived in. Funny thing is I do believe I was the one that had made those strange arrangements in the first place due to travel times but it had completely skipped my mind. I was locked into the simple arrival/departure pattern.

The same thing happens to us in life. In all kinds of ways for all kinds of reasons. And it happens to us during seasons like Lent where we are moving through our standard remembrances. Giving up chocolate for chocolates sake. Or sugar. Alcohol. Our Diet Cokes. Or certain TV shows. All for the sake of improving our spiritual selves at the same time that we snap at our spouses on the way to church. Cut someone off in traffic on the way to work. Get impatient with our children while we are trying our best to help them with the homework. We are doing the right things however we choose to observe this Lenten season but we may be arriving at the wrong places for all the right reasons.

Our entire lives can be just a little like that. Giving to the poor while we refuse to break bread with our family. Going on missions while we shun our neighbors. Attending church while we ignore God. It doesn’t really seem possible does it? After all, we set our GPS for the airport this morning. And it took us straight to what appeared to be the right location. The same exact thing. We set our spiritual GPS’s on what we think is the right location only to discover when we arrive we feel very much just the way we did twenty days ago. Just the way we did last year. And the year before that.

This morning, if we had sat down and carefully reviewed the details of the information we had available to us we would have set out in a completely different direction.

If you find yourself at this point on your Lenten journey this year going through the same familiar motions, even if those one of those is now reading these Lenten posts – stop. Really stop. Take time to remember why you decided to take this trip to begin with. Calmly review the story. Quietly listen to God showing you which way you need to travel not for the past number of days, or years but now. This day. And then have the courage to begin – again.

Journal
Have you ever arrived at what you thought was exactly the right place only to discover you were way off track? How were you able to find the right path again.

Small Groups
What are the ways we have the greatest of intentions for ministry for God but end up in the wrong location? How can we become more aware that during the paths we walk our days are our destinations? Our ministries are our moments?

Prayer
Father, please help us stop everything we have planned and check our destinations. We mean well, we have our hearts right so many times but we still get so far off track we aren’t even on the map anymore. Keep us on the path that you have planned. And to remember you in the season in such a way that we stop what we are doing and check our locations with you. Show us the details we really need to see. Amen
Praying for Strangers
A Lenten Journey
Day 19 – March 11, 2012

Story Reflection
I was once trapped for three days in the belly of the whale known as the Atlanta Airport. I could write a book about those three days. You think I am kidding but I am not. It was the weirdest thing. It involved storms. A late flight. A broken down Cookie Truck on the tarmac. A thousand delayed and then canceled flights which led to reassigning passengers to another flight which in turn would be delayed and then canceled. Into Infinity and beyond. I kept calling my mother which I do frequently when I travel so that she knows I’m ok. Her question always is, “Where are you?” And on this particular trip I’d answer, “Atlanta” and only Atlanta – over and over again until my mother was pacing and saying, “Still?” And bless your heart. It involved a really horrible, cheap hotel which was not paid for by the airline because they said it was weather and not mechanical failure although one of the flights had been canceled due to – you guessed it – mechanical failure. You really need to know that I am not stretching the truth here. Hang around me long enough and you will realize that I don’t need to. The belly of the whale involved returning to the airport the next morning only to be bumped, rushed, run and canceled for the entire day. At four o’clock in the afternoon a stranger yelled, “Anyone want to rent a car and drive out of here?” And hordes of people rushed to car rental counters and began to buddy up to travel to their destinations. I rode home with three strangers and as we approached the airport in Nashville to claim our luggage that had arrived three days ago (I could have been there three days ago but kept falling for the dangling carrot of an immediate flight out) we received text alerts from the airline declaring that the last two flights we had been bumped to were now delayed. Seriously. OK – if you are one of the wonderful people working in the Atlanta airport forgive me for telling my truth my way but that’s how it came down to the penny leaving out a thousand pages.

Because of this when I am working with any booking agents, special speaking engagements or trying to help book my mother a flight I avoid Atlanta like the Black Plague. Please, I’ll beg – “Connect me through Charlotte, Memphis, or Baltimore, Dallas or Orlando but keep me out of Atlanta” (And for the record – I LOVE the city of Atlanta! I love my friends there. I love my wonderful bookstores there. I love my readers there. I just don’t want to connect through the airport. – My sister on the other hand just loves flying through Atlanta and doing a little shopping in the process so go figure – maybe it’s just me.)

Which brings me to Charlotte which is one of my favorite airports to connect through. It seems to be cheery. It has these really great white rocking chairs under skylights which each individually have little plugs next to them so that you can charge your laptop or you phone while you rock and work and wait to connect to your next flight. Never mind that I have never not even once had time to rock in them or wait for anything but am always rushing right past them on the moving sidewalks walking clippity-clip trying to make my next flight. But I aspire to have rocker time beneath those skylights someday.

This day wasn’t such. My plane landed just in time for me to breathlessly ask which gate perchance my connecting flight. And like most flights it was at the other end of the world. I huffed, puffed, ran, gathered my too heavy bag, and my rolling suitcase and made it to the new gate in time with eight minutes to spare. Which left me just enough time to step into the Ladies room of US Airways on Concourse B – Gate One which happens to have . . .

A restroom attendant. I don’t remember her name although I think it might be Natasha, but I remember her. I’ve been flying enough for this many years now to apparently have made several trips through Concourse B if she’s always stationed in the same place. Regardless, this woman has stood out to me on numerous occasions. She has a joyful attitude. She sings. She says, “God Bless you.” She makes you feel better for having been in her presence. She has a spirit of excellence about her. But on this flight, this day, she was just going through the motions saying, “Hi, how are you?” And she sat on a stool instead of singing and cleaning. “You’re tired,” I tell her her. “Yes,” she says. “I am tired.” And my heart is heavy for her. I’m down to three minutes, maybe less. I put a dollar in her box, pat her on the shoulder, say, “God bless.” She whispers, “Thank you. God bless you too.”

At some point in the last three years that woman was my stranger. I remember telling her. I remember her smile and her wishing me blessings in return. Today, I wish I could have had just a little more time with her. If I’m most fortunate, if I’m indeed connecting again through Charlotte which I haven’t even checked, I hope that steer me to Concourse B and I won’t be thinking about the rockers or the skylights but one very, tired lady that could use a little prayer and a good word.

Journal
Have you encountered people full of joy that spread a little sunshine wherever they go? Have you ever seen these same people in other circumstances? How do you lift someone up who usually does the lifting?

Small Groups
There are many ways we connect and interact with each other, with many people throughout the day. How can we be some of those who share joy and faith, confidence and well-being as we journey through life?

Prayer
Dear God, Some people seem to have been born with a joy that many of us may never experience in life. Whether it’s from happy childhoods, determinations, or some make-up in the DNA we are not all that way. However, help us in spite of this to be more a people of not just faith but joyful faith. Not just a people who treasure life but a people who grasp the meaning of that and share our moments in celebration instead of complaining. Because this life is amazing. And the people that know that, show it. Amen

Praying for Strangers –
A Lenten Journey –
Day 18

Story Reflection
Some days I don’t like the journey part. I’d rather really have arrived. Maybe there is nothing about Lent that points to arriving. I think it is more of pointing out to us all along how much we need to operate in a state of grace. Oh, and to give others the grace we need.

There have been some aspects of my day today involving travel and flying which have been a little, shall we say, testy. Now, if you ask a lot of people they will tell you I am a very nice person. For the most part I just figure I’m simple as nice as the next person. Most of the people I meet are nice. And yes, I guess I am in their company. After all, I’m the person who can be in a desperate need of an old-fashioned please rub my muscles the old fashioned massage way lady and show up for an appointment only to have a woman gently explain to me that she only performs a certain type of massage that I won’t hardly feel at all. That it’s so good for me I won’t even know I had a massage basically and I just smile and say, “Ok. Thanks.” This is not what my cousin who is more forthright would do. She would say obviously this just wasn’t meant to be and leave. But I really don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. But today during Lent I stood up for myself and my rights and my timeframe if you will which was pressed in a stand-my-ground-not-backing-down kind of way. This made the woman I was dealing with behind the counter very angry. Read that very as if it’s in italics and capitalized. Good business is good business and bad business is just that. I won the argument of the day and left the store however, there were people in there who saw that side of me and don’t know me. What occurred to me after I left is that is most likely the only side of me they will ever see and all they will ever know. Not my best side standing my ground or not. Unless of course you were searching for a consumer advocate. Likewise, the cockles of my heart were just not warm and flowery. Lent or no lent. Of course, I’m sure in all my years of experience that I wasn’t see the brightest side of this woman. She was mad. I was mad. And we were on different sides of the line.

I guess on any given day we run into all kinds of people who are either having a bad day or a frustrating moment or who really have a different opinion than we do about the view of the current situation. The thing that troubles me most is – I know this woman has better days. Really. But I’m supposing that she’s telling the story of me over dinner somewhere not realizing I can really be full of kindness, patience, and much forbearance. What I’m wondering is – does that really matter so much? Truly? The problem is, somewhere in my heart of hearts I think it does. While I wouldn’t take back anything I said or did I keep wondering if I could have said it differently. Yes, I was pressed for time like insanity to catch a flight. Yes, the situation was unreasonable but still . . . We leave echoes where we walk. We influence other’s with our words, our tones, our expressions. One person creates in another a chain reaction that effects the people they touch that day. Pity the poor person who was next in line after me.

I’m thinking even when we are right . . . we can be wrong. Did I pray for the woman you might want to know? Why, yes. I did. Just a simple prayer. One for her to get over not being angry at me but just being angry. Just for her to have peace. And for a customer I met, for another in passing, for a woman in a wheelchair. And couldn’t we all use more of that?

Journal
How have you dealt with confrontations in the past? Have you been focused on who wins in those situations and who loses? Do you always need to ‘win’? Do you feel you too frequently ‘lose’? How does your faith play into situations of everyday life where people are confrontational?

Small Groups
Altercations of some sort – we’ve all had them? As a group discuss some of the significant ways that you have been able to successfully, faithfully navigate these troubled waters.

Prayer
Dear God, well what can we say? But that we’ll try. Yes, God – I think we’ll start there. Saying that we will try to hold fast to the fruits of the spirit that you have shown us to be not only beneficial to those around us but to our very souls. Guide us to have the patience and forbearance with one another that you so graciously extend to us over troubled times and the turbulent waters of our lives. Amen

Praying for Strangers

Lenten Journey
Day 17 – March 9, 2012

“In Quietness and in Confidence shall be your strength.” Isaiah 30:15

Story Reflection

My mother became interested in the Episcopal church when I was 11 years old because of a great lady she admired that she worked with. We began attending an older, well established church in an area known as The Cove where I come from. A beautiful place that winds through neighborhoods with old oak trees dripping with moss, curving along the bay, Camellias bloom in Winter, Azaleas in the Summertime. Just thinking of it makes me want to return to those bike rides of my youth in high school, hanging with friends there, and yes, always wishing we lived in the cove instead of our part of town St. Andrews. And for a little while we did attend this church (Holy Nativity) and it’s a great place. But then my mother discovered a little mission church far out on the beach, St. Thomas and one morning we were dressed for church and instead of turning right to go to the Cove we took a left and drove a long way over the bridge and out, out, out to the West end of Panama City Beach and pulled up at the finest of places that had maybe five cars outside. Then we walked inside and – we were home. We spent years in this church as a family and many years later both my sons were baptized out of the same gigantic sea shell that my sister and I had been baptized from. (Just for the record in case it worries any of you – I’ve also been baptized down in the river.) Episcopalians have something known as confirmation classes (which is basically a series of history lessons on faith, the development of the church and the founding and principles of the Episcopal denomination and my mother and I went to these together. We made up a class of two. The ‘classes’ if you will were offered by a retired Bishop, Father Steele and we traveled to his home which was way, way, way way, farther down the beach over another bridge, down a stretch of highway known as 30A and into Seagrove Beach. His little house sat on the beach on the Gulf side, his beautiful wife Mildred (think Mrs. Claus) made us Spice tea at every visit. Father Steel lit his pipe, leaned back and began to tell us stories of faith, of God, and of God’s people. These are the things I remember of this time.

The soft crashing of the waves, the brushing sound of sea oats outside the door, the lovely lilt and cadence of Father Steele’s voice, my mother’s intelligent questions, and the twinkle in the eye of Mrs. Steel as she poured me another cup. We followed this routine for weeks upon weeks until we had completed the classes. I never wanted them to end. I was twelve. I could have been playing with my cousins, watching something brilliant like Gilligan’s Island on tv, or reading Nancy Drew. My mother wasn’t making me be there but there was no where else I preferred to be. Shadows of my future perhaps. Because I still love to sip tea and listen to someone share the history of faith, the battles of prayer. Then I realize how frequently I’m the one sharing that story. I’m the one sharing that story. Funny sometimes how we eventually step into our shoes God had laid out for us all along.

What I would hope for you today on this 17th day of Lent, is more than just an hour of quiet or a pocket of prayer. I hope in the progression of the remaining days of the season before the celebration that awaits us, a deeper place will continue opening up in your soul to hear the words of God from the people God chooses to use to speak to you. Not someone shouting, but a steady, calm voice, that strengthens your faith with a calm assurance, and a quiet confidence. Something you can remember so solidly that you can draw upon this season itself and hold onto it, revisit it, and draw strength from it well into the oldest of age.

Journal
What are the seasons in your life where you have truely felt closest to God? Are you able to use that season now at odd times by remembering?

Small Groups
Discuss the places outside of perhaps a Sunday Morning or Sabbath setting where the season has deepened your faith. Who are some of the people who now speak into your lives with a confidence of faith that renews you as individuals or as a group? How significant do you believe this season of observing Lent will be for the years that lie ahead of you.

Prayer
Father, we have prayed for a deeper faith, to be real in front of you without pretense, to learn to reach out, and to connect with your people. Today, please help us to find those deeper waters in you. The places that we may visit that will guide us in our lives with an assurance that yes, though we might walk through times of darkness, and dark valleys of distress, you are with us. Please shift things for us and within us this Lenten Season so that the time we spend with you will grow and guide us into all the days of our lives. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 16 – March 8, 2012

Story Reflection
One of the many places I used to live had a small walking park within a short driving distance. One of those safe, well-lit paths that round through the trees and circled a small pond with ducks. A nice place to take a walk if you don’t mind around in circles. And I don’t mind so much. My mind can travel a lot of places while covering only a little ground. The first time I went I noticed two things immediately. One: There were no signs telling people which way to walk or that there was a ‘right’ way to enter the park. Two: Everyone was walking in the same direction – first to the right and then around to the left and back. Everyone. So, I immediately walk through the park fence and turn left – walking left to right you understand. Walking against the flow of traffic instead of with. This immediately shocked a few people. It’s not that there wasn’t room for me to walk. There was. I wasn’t interrupting anyone’s path, not holding traffic up or bumping into joggers. It so upset one woman that she kept saying when we passed each other, “Someones walking the wrong way!”

It was a strange echo of part of movie I saw based on true events titled Midnight Express. Now, that’s not an endorsement because depending on certain sensibilities you might not like it at all. But the short of it is this, A young American man is thrown into a Turkish prison where accommodations are a joke and surroundings are dismal. So much so that it provokes insanity and in this dungeon you find people walking in a tight circle around a pole. When the main character asks what they are doing an old man says to him as if he is blind, “They are turning the wheel.” Flash forward a number of frames and the young man walks with them, turning the invisible wheel. Caught in a web of mass madness. And the moment he regains his mind is when he forces himself to suddenly switch directions and walk against all those people in the opposite direction. And yes, the mad were disturbed. They were downright vexed and showed it. Eventually, the young man, with a clear mind once again, escapes prison and returns to America.

The movie and this particular scene quickly snap to my mind when the woman keeps saying, “Wrong way!” and is clearly vexed. I never turned around of course. What she didn’t know was when I say I’m an introvert (which people find more and more difficult to believe but it’s still true) I mean I’m an introvert. The reason I was going the opposite but equally right direction is because I would be walking against the foot traffic – and not walking with people. People close behind me, people in front of me, people passing me or, the most important part, people walking alongside me at the same pace in my body space and forcing me to have light conversation if need be. I was walking opposite so that I could go it alone. Simple as that.

Going alone has it’s advantages. Let’s just say going alone with God has it’s advantages. There is a wonderful absence of all those sticky human emotions – yours, mine and the next guys. Alone with God be it in a desert or by the Ocean is pretty simple business. But we were never meant to be alone. Not like that. Not for the longest of extended times and forever except for an occasional person called to a solitary contemplative life. But even then my readings and my prayers lead me to believe one should emerge from the deepest of places in solitude and with God with an encouraging word or vision of God’s eternal truths.

What I’ve learned since then! Now, perhaps I would walk a lap or two in the direction that gave me the greatest space and silence. The difference is that then I would turn around and walk next to those with me, be willing to strike a conversation, get to know a stranger or help pace someone to the finish line. What I’ve leaned is our purpose is no shadow. We are here to share, to grow, and to communicate with each other. But we don’t have to be a part of the crush, the stream of cultural consciousness that tells us there is one way to go and that it is the only acceptable direction.

The earliest members of the Christian church were opposite the norm of the day. So are we. And I don’t mean in a conservative, media driven Christian portrayed kind of way. I really don’t even know what any of our current political systems have to do with what I’m talking about. Prayer, true prayer, is about living a life of relationship with the Divine and with other people.

While it may be walking in many ways against the flow of whatever gossip, ‘it’, show or story of the moment it’s still very real. Faith and fasting. Contemplation and contribution. Solitude and service. The true wheel turns in a Divine balance that is larger than anything for us to completely understand. But we can begin today by doing two things simultaneously – going against our normal tendency to stay within our bubbles, to walk and talk among only those known to us who are in our ‘circles’ by speaking to a stranger. And we can tell, share, or remember that person in prayer. Because the only wheel we really need to be concerned about turning is Gods.

Journal
When have there been times in your life where you have gone against the ‘norm’ that people expected from you? What were the results? When have you separated yourself from others for any reason, positive or negative? Have you had seasons of quiet and seasons to be with others? Which is easier for you? Do you know why?

Small Groups
Discuss how we might find a balance between what God expects from us and what our culture or those around us (our families, our friends, our neighbors, and church members) might expect from us. How do we work to choose the better thing?

Prayer
God, please help walk as you would have us. Your way, not ours whether it’s with the tide or against it let it be You who points the way. Assist us mightily to recognize the continuity of the rhythm of life, the need for community, and submit to the seasons of solitude you call us to. Help us respect the others walking through this world with us all in different seasons of their lives, on different parts of the journey. Our assignment is not to judge their walk, but to walk in Love. To do this, there is no doubt we will need your help. Amen

Praying For Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 15 – March 7, 2012

Story Reflection

There are people in life who are content to sit down in one spot and never leave again. My Dad was one of these. He had been all over the world in the army but there was no place he wanted to be more than on the creek he grew up on. “What about Hawaii, Dad?” I’d ask him. “I mean – Hawaii!” “Nope,” he shake his head and firmly declare, “No place in the world better than right here.” He meant it. It’s the place that made him whistle. Just happy contented whistling. We couldn’t bribe a whistle out of him in the house we actually lived in. Just the shack at the creek. That’s where his true happiness was. I understand that. We all have special places, homes, people, that might be our whistling place. And that’s why we have to leave them. Not forever, mind you but long enough to retreat. To get a perspective on our world from a distance. To listen to God without the distractions of our busy lives and even those people and things we love. Our eyes become accustomed to what’s around us. It doesn’t take long to take every detailed nuance of routine as a part of rote belonging. It’s why all too often spouses and people who love one another, families and friends, take one another for granted. Routine. And in much the same way as we walk out the days of our church calendar, attend church, do or don’t do any of the tiny ritual readings or prayers that become a part of our lives, we can also take God for granted. Or at least our relationship with God for granted. It’s just there – like that old worn pair of shoes you won’t throw out because they are so easy and fast to slip on. So comfortable.

I think having a comfortable relationship with the Creator is downright ‘cool’. And I think if we ever take that for absolute granted in a way where we are never challenged to grow we are the ones that are losing out. We have an incredible opportunity to discover new places in God, a deeper and renewed relationship with God, and a healing for our souls greater than we knew we needed. We couldn’t fully ‘get’ everything offered to us in this relationship if we lived a thousand years or thousand lifetimes. The Mystery and the Magisty are just too great.

Sometimes to turn a new ear to God, to open our eyes to a new truth, to sit quietly and let our souls receive and heal we must be removed. If we live on the ocean we should plan three days in a desert. If in the desert, we should seek the green trees and springs of the mountains. We must go into another place to seek God that rattles our comfort zone a little. Shakes the cage of complacency.

Now, I understand most people don’t have the professional need to travel the way I do that keeps me looking out on new horizons, roads, and cities frequently. But you see – that in itself can become my routine. It’s the way I live and move and walk with God. I have other things I must remove. But you can go to a different park, church, bench, get out of your surroundings and prepare to meet God in a new way.

Or . . .

You could Pray for a Stranger. Nothing has gotten me out of my comfort zone, or routines more than being aware of other people around me every day no matter where I travel or roam or have the blessing of being ‘home’. Nothing has required more of me as a Christian, as a human being, involved so much patience, strange courage, and changed my heart. Or drawn me closer to God by being more like God – watching, caring, compassionate – and the word I really hate – involved.

I still need my times that are out of my normal surroundings. And I don’t mean hotel rooms. I mean times truly cloistered, laptop shut, wireless off, cell phone passed to some innkeeper, monk, pastor, friend that swears to check for emergency messages but otherwise will fiercely hold my calls. Ministering to God, allowing God to minister to us, and going out in the world to ministry to one another. Much like the Trinity, all three matter.

Plan your time with God today in a quiet place even if it’s only an hour sitting in your car, cell phone locked in the trunk. Then leave your comfort zone and Step into new waters – introduce yourself to a stranger and remember them in your prayers. Lent. Contemplation, prayer – and action.

Journal
Is it difficult for you to be still before God? To be truly still and quiet. If not, how can you share that gift with others? If so, what impedes your time alone?

Small Groups
There is an amazing balance required of our lives, an pulling away, a venturing forth. How can members of small group communities help one another in very specific ways to find this balance?

Prayer
Lord, we had the most wonderful example of as you walked the earth. Early mornings in prayer and solitude, days filled with teaching and ministering, calming storms, feeding, healing. You said once that those you left behind would do great works than you. Honestly, I find that hard to believe. But there is something I’m beginning to see. Alone, perhaps we don’t do greater works at all. But together? Together seeking solitude to fill up, together going out into the world. Together quieting storms in peoples lives, feeding one soul here another there, healing what is in our hands to heal – that Lord is a mighty force of many. May we grasp the vision you had for those who follow you and apply it to our daily lives. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 14, March 6, 2012

“They shall abundently utter the memory of thy great goodness.” Psalm 145:7
Story Reflection
Oyster bars were a part of my youngest days and comprise some of my happiest memories. If you don’t grow up on the coast or where fresh oysters are harvested and eaten by adoring fans by the dozens, the oyster bar would seem foreign to you. To me, that fishy smell, the slam of an old, screen door as we walked in, the counter with the bar stools and the oyster shucker behind the bar are all a beauty of a time. Oysters should always be eaten in months that have an ‘R’ in them and no other. I don’t know why this is true but I know that it is. So months with ‘R’s were the best for me.

The oyster bars of my earliest memories were not tourist traps or nice restaurants serving raw oysters delicately. Oh, no, no. There was a sense of the raw sea about them, and the few tables and bar stools were always busy. The Oyster shucker wore a white apron and he never seemed to stop shucking. Never, ever. At three or four years old, I didn’t eat oysters. I still don’t. But I was so happy to go with my parents when they did because they were happy. I climbed up on a stool next to them and instead of oysters took advantage of the free packs of saltines and ketchup that sat around the bar. I immediately began to make ketchup sandwiches out of little saltines and I ate them. I suppose I was trying to be like my parents without actually swallowing the slime. Because I think raw oysters are an acquired taste. I’m almost certain of it. Put a raw oyster in almost any three year olds mouth and I know where its going next – out. Nevertheless, I loved being there on that stool in the presence of my parents. They were always laughing and the air had something of a celebration to it.

That place known as Hunts Oyster Bar stood for years on Beck Avenue in Panama City, Florida. It burned down one year to the heartbreak of many and was rebuilt eventually a few blocks away. Larger with more tables. A nicer establishment if you will. Begging their pardon but it was never the same as that place almost too tiny to turn around in. But I’ve dropped in and taken my mother for oysters and crab claws to the new one for the sake of tradition. I’ll still go out of my way to cruise those few blocks of Beck Avenue so that I can roll the windows down and be engulfed by the smells. Docks, saltwater, fish, oysters. Probably not everyones cup of tea. But see I have my associations and they are all good.

We need these barometers in our lives. Memories and experiences that allow us to know we are in the right place. That the one experience that continues to be favorable encourages us to repeat it. Likewise, if you eat one bad shrimp, you had a bad day. However, if eating shellfish makes you sick every time you eat it – your likely to steer the other way.

Talking to strangers and praying for strangers for these three years has given me a multitude of memories that are tangible and real in positive ways. I can sit right here and begin at the beginning remembering faces and places and situations. Yes, some were just, a quick, “Thank you.” or “That’s really nice,” when I told them I’d be keeping them in my prayers. Those are the simple ones. In other cases it’s mostly stories and people I’ll never forget. It’s obvious that the first few weeks or maybe months was a little knee-knocking. Something so simple as whispering a good thing to someone like that. But as time went on, I became bolder and less nervous. It wasn’t just because I did it more often. It was because of the memories. The thankful or tearful reactions and stories that I had received from people. Yes, I had one bad reaction from a woman whose story is in the book, but I chalk that up to a bad shrimp day. And it still ended with me praying for her just like I would anyone else. With love and compassion.

If you are one of the beautiful people undertaking Praying for Strangers this Lenten season I simply want to encourage you today. It is the good experiences and the people you might meet and share words or stories with that will give you courage. Your memories will begin to layer the way that mine have and in doing so, the fear of speaking to people will pass.

I do believe that I could walk into any old Mom and Pop fishy, oyster bar in the world and feel at home. Climb right up on that bar stool and order ketchup and crackers with a smile. Likewise, the South, New York, out West – other countries – strangers are still people with a common thread of humanity and hurts that would shock us if we could see them. But I have seen them so many times now that for the most part, I walk through that door of communicating unafraid. Just like it’s some old, oyster bar screen door.

Journal
What memories have served you best in your life? Does it help at times to have them handy, right there in a pocket so that you can pull them out and be strengthened by them? (I have praying for stranger memories at the ready and it often helps me remember how much it brightened someones day in the past just before I step up to someone new.) If you are telling people on occasion that they are your special stranger for the day, journal a good experience about that to read later.

Small Groups
What purpose does capturing memories serve? How does it assist us in building stories that we can share with others? If you have been sharing with Strangers that you will be praying for them or that they are your special stranger, share a story with the group that has actually strengthened your resolve to continue doing so.

Prayer
God, thank you for the gift of memory. We may have a few we’d like to cast in the sea but we are ever so grateful for those that continue to warm our hearts and light our paths. Enlightened us with a newfound awareness that we might embrace the goodness of our moments and see your hand in the story that surrounds us. Help us be full of Your peace when we speak to strangers and in so doing, to carry a part of your presence out into the world. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 13 – March 5, 2012

“And he awoke, and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water: and they ceased, and there was a calm.” Luke 8:24

Story Reflection
Hurricanes. Big tropical storms. I’ve lived through a lot of them. Coming from the Gulf Coast of Florida and being there all of my young life (for the most part) they became an actual part of life for us. Hurricane season was something we knew well. We knew to stock up on candles, batteries, water, cook food ahead of time. Big pots of chili seem to always be a favorite. Or Gumbo. One pot dishes that would feed an army of family and friends bedding down in our little brick house. We were up high, away from the flood zone, not on the water but in town, and yes – like that third little pig – were in that house of brick. The wolf at the door might rage through the night but when morning came and the storm finally passed we were still standing. I understand evacuation also because I once left my place at the beach to travel inland to my Aunt’s in Georgia to make my father happy and less worried. That was one of the most dangerous and worst experiences of my life. We drove through places without power, in the middle of deluge rains and spin off tornado’s as we car pooled and convoyed with three cats, four dogs, two children, and a litter of puppies. Never again I told myself. But the truth is a Category four is time to consider your surroundings and location. A Category five? You better already be gone.

Today as I write these words winds are whipping around the house I’m in and gusting to 40 mph. You can really hear the wind at that rate of speed. The waves have grown by the minute. Huge, choppy, determined. The beach normally covered in surfers wearing wet suits is strangely absent today. They know. A few souls have tried to venture down to just look at the waves. (We always did that pre-hurricane too as teenagers.) But it doesn’t take long for the wind to whip them sideways and backwards until they decide they’ve seen enough and they are gone. So my world today at the edge of the sea is barren. The wind, me, God – and you.

I don’t live in a Hurricane zone now but instead am up in Tennessee in Tornado alley. I hate tornado’s. Hate. Them. I had learned all of my life exactly how to track and watch a hurricane. How to prepare for them. It’s as if we have a strange connection and my first novel, The Gin Girl features a major hurricane. They had names. And we mounted their destruction or their memory with those names. Say Camille and folks who know shutter. Say Katrina and one hangs a head.

So now, I’ll be posting this and immediately going out to move all the outdoor furniture inside the house, gathering my goods, my coffee and computer and important books if need be temporarily down one floor. I happen to have several gallons of water in my jeep so I’ll be bringing those up. And if I’m traveling without a flashlight, I should know better. It’s ingrained in my storm DNA.

It has been my experience though that life gives little warning of the storms that hit us. Not really. Or if they do we are too busy to see them coming. That or we are in complete denial of their existance and approach. Either way, we are taken by surprise. Much like a tornado ripping down us with alarming speed from seemingly nowhere. But storms, they come. From internally within the heart of our human emotions, or from external sources and the lives of loved ones. And to the best of my knowledge, no Iphone or Droid has an app for that yet that alerts us of the unknown and unseen future events of our lives.

I think of the days that the Disciples were freaking out in that boat as it was tossed back and forth and Jesus slept. It was a sudden storm. They weren’t expecting it. And when another storm came up another time – they looked out to see him calmly walking by as they are once again beyond themselves with fear and filled with a certainty of death. And then good old Peter with all that bravado and faith – “If it’s you I’ll just walk right out of this boat and join you on the stormy seas.” (Forgive all my paraphrasing, please.) And Jesus says, “Um hum, sure. Well, it’s me. Go ahead if you must.” A few baby steps later and Peter is going down. But it’s the sure hand of Christ that pulls him up. It’s the sure voice of Christ that says to the seas to be calm. And they are.

As the Disciples approached what would become known to us in the Christian church as Good Friday, they didn’t have a clue of the storm that was about to engulf them. Jesus did. He saw the Hurricane approaching. And he prepared. A last meal. A night of prayer.

We may not know where the next storm will come from or how strong those gale forces may blow. We may be walking through storms no one else sees, not even those closest to us. Not our mothers, or spouses, or best friends. Or the person who sits next to us every Sunday in church. But there is One who sees. One who knows. Who has known all along. Always.

Peace, He says. Break bread with each other. Say prayers. Trust me. Have Faith. And dare to be fearlessly unafraid as you walk out the storms of your lives.

Journal
What storms in life have you weathered? In looking back, what if anything would you have done differently? How can you prepare by faith for any potential storms that might come your way in life? Or can you?

Small Groups
How can we help one another as a community to weather the storms of life? While we can gather blankets and material goods for those who suffer physical storms or loss – how do we help those who suffer quietly from internal storms we can’t see? Should we be more willing to let others know when we are walking through tough waters in our own lives? Does that leave us vulnerable for gossip, or being hurt in other ways? Is it worth the chance we take in revealing our humanity?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, it would have been easier on us all the way around if life had no troubled waters or high winds to begin with. But that’s not the way the world works. So many have been lost to natural disasters, others to the storms of suicide, friends and family members to the rages of disease. And yet, here we are today walking through Lent, remembering you, and desiring a better way to speak to the storms in our lives and into the lives of those around us. Give us a courage we don’t possess. Help us to be fully aware of the people who cross our paths everyday, particularly the ones who may be slipping beneath the waves. Inspire us, and guide us to reach out a hand to them. And to you. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 12 – March 4, 2012

“When I see the in the clouds, I will remember the eternal covenant between God and every living creature on earth.” Genesis 9:16

Story Reflection
Today I’ve continued to have the good fortune of writing from the beach. Some people might say, “Oh, you poor soul!” I understand. But writing is not simply vacationing and watching the clouds go by. It’s not reading a great page turner and being able to read only. Writing is writing. And for those of us who do quite a bit of it – it’s work.

Nevertheless . . .

I took a break from the computer screen and stepped out on the deck where I could look at the ocean. And what to my wondering, tired eyes did appear but a rainbow, a full rainbow, with one end dipping into the sea before me. Now, supposedly you just can’t get to the end of the rainbow but I promise you a friend of my husband’s captured a photo of him standing at the end of rainbow. So now that is kind of a joke but a real one – what’s at the end of the rainbow? My husband!

But today, I witnessed grown people of all ages stopping and turning to stare. I witnessed surfers forgetting to catch the next wave and just sitting and staring at the rainbows end. I kept waiting for them to paddle as hard as they could to reach it. But I suppose it was a little farther out than it might have appeared. Yesterday, I saw a rainbow also. Later the afternoon, I saw another. And as I was taking all this in, studying the huge arc of the one that dipped one end out in the water directly in front of me, I really was a little awed by the spectral. I was thinking how often we might see a rainbow and give it a glance or a smile but not really stand in full awe of the colors and it’s magnificiance. Yes, I know = science, water, molecules – blah, blah, blah. Wonder I tell you. Although I remember the first snowball of my life ( a Florida girl remembers that easily) I don’t recall the first rainbow. I don’t know why. I should. I really should. And although I’ve seen many in a lifetime, I’ve seen partial rainbows and double rainbows. I’ve seen them so large out West that seemed to be so huge and tangible we drove under them and could have touched them out the window of the car, I’ve never been fully captivated like I was today. A sign they are meant to be. A promise.

I’ve had some troubled times in my life. Some dark times. Haven’t most of us? Haven’t we all had some manner of the dark night of the soul? A day or a decade where things not only didn’t go our way but seemed at every turn to go against us? This is when a few of my Eeyore tribe members might start quoting ‘Murphy’s Law’ to me. “Get back,” I’d tell them in the midst of all calamity and misfortune. “I won’t be partnering up with Murphy today.” And so I haven’t. But I have cried, pleaded, and would have beat the walls but I’m real concious of not hurting my fingers. (I need to type a lot.)

Rainbows. Whether you believe in all the Ark business or not, whether you think the rainbow is nothing more than a watery display of bent light, let me tell you something. We need our signs. We need something that will tell us on the other side of this storm – peace. On the other side of this storm – life. On the other side of this death – resurrection.

In the middle of Lent, in the middle of your life and your moment right now you are walking through, remember your rainbows. They are there for a reason. And breathe.

Journal
What types of ‘signs’ have ever given you a Peace in the past? Can you remember those and hold onto them during the times that life still presents waves instead of calm seas?

Small Groups
Discuss times where in your darkest hour, help arrived. Does the group find that most it’s members have experienced rough seas? Have most also received a promise of a new day, or a change where life took a turn for the better? How do you keep those times fresh in your spirit so that they are available not only to encourage yourself but one another?

Prayer
Heavenly Father, you created something amazing with the rainbow business. It doesn’t matter to me how you made it or how it works, just that it exists. I marvel once again in your goodness and the beauty of your creation. And I thank you for signs not only after troubled waters but in the midst of them. Lead us on into tomorrow with renewed hope. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 11 – March 3,2012

“Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Luke 23:34

Story Reflection
I don’t like him. I don’t like him and I don’t even know him. Don’t want to know him. And I certainly don’t want to pray for him. So, I haven’t. This is the way it is. This is the truth. This is my Lent unfolding.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending a glorious God blessed day on the beach with my nine year old granddaughter – Adorable #1. We looked for shells, walked the beach and built sandcastles. My granddaughters are not regular children where sandcastles are concerned. I grew up on the beach and built sandcastles all of my life. From babyhood to my teenage years and later as a mother. A few summers ago I picked up the girls and headed for the beach for our summer vacation where we spent every incredible day on the beach in the sand and it’s where I began to see that they were different castles makers. To them it was more than a castle, it was an art form. Day after day, castle upon castle and no two just alike. They were large and small, had bridges or were sole islands, moats or maybe windows. They were adorned with shells top to bottom in elaborate patterns, wrapped in strands of seaweed. Things I had never thought of they seemed to do by instinct and quiet focus. For eight hours a day. Painstaking details were offered with a patient hand.

Back to the present. My granddaughter and I are on the beach and she is creating one of her art pieces. A beautiful sandcastle designed, windowed, shelled and adorned. She declared it finished and we decided to go for a short walk down the beach. On our way back from a distance we witness a little boy walking past her creation, pausing a moment looking at it, then picking up rocks and shells and throwing them at the sand castle. A man that we assume to be his father is watching as he continues to throw things, then to look at the man, look back at the castle and kick it. Look at the man and look back at the castle and finally jump up and down on it with both feet, kicking the remaining sand around until it is totally demolished. All of this just before we are close enough for us to reach them walking as fast as we can. My granddaughter is shocked and asking, “Is he just going to let him do that?!” Then we are there close enough to yell a few minutes too late and I ask the man as they are leaving, “Hey! Hey you! Would you like him to now help my granddaughter rebuild her sand castle?” The man laughs in my face. The boy points to him and begins to yell, “He made me do it. He made me do it!” And the man laughs some more, turns still laughing and now the boy is laughing too as they are walking away from us. Not a pause, not an explanation, not an apology. I drop to my knees and immediately begin helping Bella rebuild. It’s getting dark but we are both driven to recreate in defiance of such destruction. “At least God made lots of sand,” I tell her. She answers me back, “It’s ok. I thought of a way to make it better while were walking.” We are being good troopers if you will because neither one of us have that same spirit of wonder, that patient creative air we once had. We just are not going to leave that crumbled mess behind us. We can’t help both continuing to glance down the beach where the man and the boy are slowly walking away. Undaunted and unrepentent. I’m not wanting to sing Kumbaya or rebuild anything. I’m wanting to turn into Clint Eastwood. Not the Clint Eastwood and Clyde the big monkey movie but Clint Eastwood the Dirty Harry Magnum 44, “Go ahead and make my day punk,” kind of Eastwood. I want to chase that man down and shove his laughing mouth in the sand.

No, he wasn’t my stranger for the day. He was just a stranger. After praying for strangers for 3 years, over 1000 of them, I bumped into someone that I haven’t really said a prayer for yet. Not because he didn’t like me because that wouldn’t bother me so much. Maybe because he caused the destruction of something important to my granddaughter. (You know how it is, you can do what you want to me but don’t mess with mine.) But I think all in all – it was the laughing. The absolute spirit of destruction laughter. You would have to have been standing there to know what I’m talking about but trust me. Horrible, nasty, spirit of destruction. I felt like if we had been on fire he would have been doing the same thing. Maybe pouring gasoline on the flames.

So, no. I haven’t been moved to pray for the man. Now, knowing what I know about prayer, about how I’m the one that gains the greatest good from praying for strangers, I’ve tried. Yes, I know – forgiveness. Lent. Contemplation and self-examination. Back to Dirty Harry. All my attempts to pray for the man seem to come out with gritted teeth. If I could form words about it I don’t think God would be listening because they might involve lightning. However, that kid?

Him I’ve thought about. What happens to a child like that being led to destroy with such rabid glee at seven? What rocks will he be throwing at seventeen? Whose face will he be laughing in as he destroys their work, their dreams, their dignity or their life? What are his great chances being raised by a man like that? Yes, I can pray for that kid. For the sake of his soul and those he encounters in his future.

As for that man – pray for him if you want to. He needs it. And, I’m working on it, trust me. And it’s such a tiny thing really. I mean, c’mon – a sand castle! But like I said, you weren’t there. I’m not out of the woods on this one. Give me another thirty days.

Journal
Have you bumped into a few people in life that you just couldn’t pray for? If so, did that ever change? If so, how did it change? In what way? If not, how did that effect you? Does it still matter?

Small Groups
Discuss how praying for those who offend us is important for us. Where does the spirit of forgiveness begin and end for us?

Prayer
Dear God, help us to forgive all, not just those we choose to forgive. Not just those we love. Help us to remember your words this season about forgiveness. And by your mercy please plant a seed of love in our hearts for those who offend us to the bone. Help us to pray for those we don’t like, don’t know and don’t trust. Inspire the words or our mouth so that our prayers are real and ring true. And cleanse the meditations of our hearts in the process. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 10 – March 2, 2012

Story Reflection
We used to live close to a dog park in Nashville. When our very, large Pyrenees was just a puppy we would take him there to ‘socialize’ but the truth is we went before we even knew we were getting a dog so that we could watch other dogs play. It was a rather relaxing way to spend a little time and be entertained in the process. When Titan joined out family we made a weekly trip. On our regular excursions we met a man who sat in the park every day. If we went he was there on his bench with his big, fat, old dog. I am not being mean. It was a big, fat, old dog. She could barely walk she was so fat. But she liked the park and liked to lay on her back in the sun by his feet and have her belly scratched by visitors. And he would tell everyone. “She likes to have her belly scratched.” So you felt a little obligated to scratch her belly while asking, “Exactly, what is it?” Because the dog had sort of lost the shape of any breed you might recognize. I forget what the man answered about the specifics but not the tone in his voice. It was full of love and pride. “That’s Lisa Marie Presley and she’s my very, best friend,” he’d say. I believed him. I don’t remember why the dog was named that or if she had been born on the birthday of Lisa Marie or what the connection might be at all. I think he took Lisa Marie to lie on her back every single day unless floods were in the forecast. He made a lot of friends with both people and their dogs. The other dogs of the park began to see him as The Godfather and all would come over to say hello and pay their respects before taking off into the field.

Inevitably, the day arrived where we went to the park and there sat the man on his bench, head hung low, tears in eyes. Lisa Marie had passed. Condolences were said throughout the day. But condolences weren’t enough for him. In some way he needed to celebrate the life of Lisa Marie. He came back with flyers announcing a memorial service would be held at the dog park. A remembrance of her, some story telling, and a great big cake that had her picture on it and her birth date and death date. He wrote a beautiful obituary but I don’t think the paper ran it. He brought copies of those too. Nothing was too good for the big, old, fat Lisa Marie. He just loved her.
In spite of the fact that she wasn’t the shape of anything we might recognise anymore.

What a lucky dog that Lisa Marie. How fortunate to be so loved, so bragged about, and so well remembered. We don’t all get that in this life. We don’t all get that adoration that a dog received. But oh, how we want it. And unfortunately, sometimes and in all the wrong places we seek it. From strangers, from husbands and wives and family and children and co-workers and the world. But that’s not where we need to be looking. That will always be momentary and sometimes wonderful but not in such a way that it remains and heals our souls. Only one love does that. Only one.

I assure you that your name is known, the fact that you like to watch the rain from inside or lie belly-up in the sun is known. Someone who would tell great stories about you that no one else would know and relish in the telling. It is this very person that we remember during lent. The God father of our souls who walked among us so that he might love us as one of us. So that he might show us how to love one another. And perhaps that deep desire to be loved is so that we realize that’s a God thing, a way to connect us to the world with the understanding that everyone has that place, that tiny empty tugging empty space. And it is my most serious belief that the prayers of a stranger for a stranger help fill those places of the soul. We need love so that we can give love. How could we give what we didn’t understand? And in the midst of our pain and grief, we celebrate life, tell stories and remember. Jesus, you ask? Oh, he walked among us once. He walks among us still.

A man in a park shows a ‘crazy’ kind of love for his old dog. Most of us actually want to be loved a little ‘crazy’ over the top. For someone to put us first and foremost which the funny thing is, that’s what God asks us to do. My sneaky feeling is that he knows once we do that, all the places where we need love will surprisingly be filled to overflowing. Because we can’t love totally, unconditionally, and without reservation without being so filled with the essence of love that there are no dark places remaining in us. And that was the idea all along.

Journal
Have you ever gone through seasons where you needed love but couldn’t get it the way you wanted, from the person you wanted it? And how did you finally get peace in that area? Or did you? Does meditating on God’s deep love for you help you or is it just really too difficult to believe God loves you that way at all? If so, why?

Small Groups
Discuss the ways that God showed us an example by walking among us of how we are to love others. When you have effectively loved people with your whole-heart not expecting anything in return, did it fill up the emptiness inside of you in a different say. If so, can you share?

Prayer
Father, we travel with a lot of wounds, with this little worrisome empty place that keeps searching for the perfect thing to fill it up. We’ve tried drinks and chocolate sundays, fries and football, shopping and sex and hunting and fighting. Sometimes we seem to try everything to fill us to overflowing but you. In this season right now, right here, please help us be still, shut up, and fill up with the only love that will ever satisfy us to the bone and beyond. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day Nine – March 1, 2012

“Take this and eat it, for this is my Body.” Matthew 26:26

Story Reflection
For anyone who has followed my blogs or heard me tell stories for very long know that there are some very special children in my life. The granddaughters known officially as ‘The Adorables’ (also known respectively as Bella and Bug) and my Niece, Miss Fancy and nephew, Mr. Smarty. They all come by their nicknames naturally. I adore this children and they all keep my life full of wonder, laughter, and also keep me on my toes because they are quick of brain and nimble of limp. And that’s where the story begins. My sister and I were raised Episcopalian and although she has always taken her children to a non-denominational church for the most part on this particular Sunday in question she had decided to return to her roots and that everyone was going to the Episcopal church and taking communion. Communion on a very regular basis is big to Episcopalians. I understand it is to Catholics as well. And while I know other congregations and denominations take communion it’s not a regular part of every service, or offered at most larger churches and cathedrals and noon Monday through Friday. So, here is sister with Miss Fancy and Mr. Smarty in their Sunday finest approaching the altar. At this particular juncture in time children of young ages take communion or at least the bread and body part. When I was growing up you had to be twelve and confirmed and then taking your first communion was a really big deal. So big you received little cards and gifts from some people, particularly the older members of the church – God bless them. So, at the altar we are and My sister is taking communion and so are the children. Little white wafers all around. Mr. Smarty puts his in his mouth and begins to chew. White wafers may be holy but they don’t taste holy and it’s his first experience with this mind you. He leans over and whispers to his sister Miss Fancy as he is experiencing this thing, “What is this?” And being the nine year old going on ninety-two that she is she promptly and seriously replies, “The body of Christ.” To which without missing a beat he immediately spits out all over the alter railing saying,”Eewwww! Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t want to eat Christ!” And it’s just another happy family Sunday at church.

Okay, so the entire altar, wafer, communion experience may be foreign but most of us have been served of God a dish we didn’t want. I’ll take this part of Jesus but not that one. I’ll take one portion of brotherly love but I’m having nothing to do with the dish called forgiveness. That platter called sacrifice? Forget about it. A plate of serving the sick. I’m sick of that already. But the serving dish of the Peace of God, a double helping please and then pass me the dessert of everlasting life, thank you very much.

We can go through all the motions we want to. We can take communion till the cows come home but when God says, go make peace with your brother and then come back to the table, He means it. I hate that part. Communion is so easy for me. That brotherly love stuff – exhausting! God served me a plate called Praying for Strangers. I tried to pass it to the next guy. Somehow it just kept circling the table and coming back around to me. Maybe, just maybe, it’s showing up on your table too.

Journal
Has God ever asked something of you that caused you to hesitate or like Jonah decide to run in the opposite direction? If so, why did you run? Or are you running still?

Small Groups
Discuss ways that God may call us but we aren’t prepared to answer. What helps us in that preparation? How do we choose to do God’s will in large matters or small ones? To in otherwise take the dish he serves us without too many arguments about it? How can we as small groups and communities help one another to grow in this area?

Prayer
Father, by your Divine Grace, help us with all your mercy and might to choose Your will and not our own – every step of the journey. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Study
Day 8 – February 29, 2012

Story Reflection
It had been my most perfect plan to take about two wonderful months and write this forty days ahead of Lent. It didn’t work out that way. Life, you know. Or maybe it was by Divine Design because it has me walking out this Lenten journey pretty much right along with you. It has me remembering a multitude of strangers that have crossed my path in the last few years and the lessons they have taught me along the way. The book, Praying for Strangers is of course filled with those stories and a few lessons I learned along the way. So I try to convey stories that have happened or are happening still. Some of you are really struggling to do this. Really wanting to step outside your comfort zones and at least for this 40 days commit to Praying for Stranger. Let me help you with something. You cannot fail. Don’t let an honest desire to make a change in this world bring you to your knees if you haven’t gotten the courage to tell a stranger that you’ll be remembering them in prayer. Just remember them. A few months ago or last summer as time rolls on and doubles over on itself in my life, I stopped to pump fuel in the jeep. An old man in a truck pulled up on the other side of the pump and started fueling up. I couldn’t really see him, except I knew he was farmer large and had on overalls. Then he began whistling up a storm. I listened for awhile and then spoke up while I was still pumping, “I sure do love to hear you whistle. My Daddy always whistled and I miss it.” He leans over and says, “You think that’s something – you wanna hear me sing?” I cracked up. I think we both did. And I drove off smiling and so did he. He was indeed my stranger for the day but I never told him. And to be honest on that given day I didn’t feel the least bit like I needed to. Just a word, an exchange, a little bit of being human. It sure goes a long way.

Journal
What is one of the best encounters you’ve ever had with someone just in a passing moment in a store, restaurant, or out in the world? Are those moments far and few between? Why?

Small Groups
Discuss the boundries we seem to establish in society for ourselves and others regarding relating and conversation? When are those boundries broken in a good way? When do they impede our progress in life in a way that is perhaps not the best for ourselves or those around us? How can we change for the better?

Prayer
Father you have set a high standard for us. That whole becoming human thing. That whole walking among us jazz. How humbling. And there you are just saying things like follow me, come eat, come be fed, be healed, come down from that tree. You laughed and broke bread. And walked more than a mile in our shoes. Help us walk out this life one step at a time with a willingness to share just a little bit of our time with the man that whistles, the woman that hums, and those in between here and home. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 7 – Tuesday, February 28

“Give and it shall be given to you. In the measure you give it shall be given.” Luke 6:38

Story Reflection
It’s amazing how the noise of life, even the good noise of our happier moments engulf our lives. Recently I had the pleasure of laughing with The Adorables*, eating ice cream and head banging to the theme song of a popular comedy program. (*Grandaughters) I was thinking really life just doesn’t get any better than this. My heart took a picture. A thousand years ago or yesterday, it might have been a moment I missed. I miss others but during this time of Lent I am with diligence trying to still my soul to the moment at hand – and Listen.

There have been times in my life that I seemed to be overshadowed by the spirit of sadness. A type of impending doom or a darkening of the days. Some writers get this frequently. We can be a morose bunch at times and many times the only way we survive is to write our way out of it. To lose ourselves in stories that expel our pain or inspire our joy. There’s some powerful medicine in getting those words on the page. The same is true for Praying for Strangers. It’s the closest thing I can liken it to. Because one of the things I’ve learned on this journey that I feel certain I can share is that writers are not alone. There is a sadness that threatens even our best days. There is a fear of the future, a worry about those we love, a nagging sense that sooner or later our happiness will be swept away and stolen from us. So we spend more time worrying than we do living. But when I step outside myself and really focus on someone in particular in my path, for this great moment I’m beyond myself. I’m actually praying that the man in front of me in line at the fast food place has abundance and goodness in life. That he and those he loves are healty and happy. That the woman passing me at the bank as I walk in is protected and loved. That the child standing and looking up into my face with a tiny wave has a really bright future ahead of her. And in these blessed moments where I’m less about me my life becomes enriched in color and detail. And I think it is helping me to squeeze all the happiness out of every moment with the Adorables and my husband, and my friends and my sister, mother, cousin and all those I love who can stand to love me back on any given day.

Journal
Do your worries steal your moments of joy, contentment and happiness. Does that tribe of Eyore unhappiness shadow your days? Is it due to your expectations now being met in life, worry for others, a feeling of being unloved? Has Praying for Strangers this season, silently or letting them know, made a subtle shifting in your day or your week? If yes, write about how.

Small Groups
Life affects all of us differently and yet, surprisingly we are so much the same. Writers and artists have always been notorious for being moody, depressed, or blue. But it seems the whole world carries a silent seed of blue. Express how venturing out on the Praying for Strangers Journey has helped you either connect with others or seen yourself in a new light.

Prayer
Dear God, Ain’t life grand? Indeed it is. Yet so many of our days are wasted in the backwaters of our souls as we trip over one stuck log and then another. Help us clear the swampy places in our souls and move out into fresh waters. Help us not be afraid to let go of the past, to change, or to speak to strangers. Help us – even right here, right now, in the middle of Lent – to be a people electrified with the gift of life. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day 6 – Monday, February 27, 20122

Story Reflection
We never know what kind of things are going to suddenly happen in life, catch us by surprise, or the connections we are going to make. We think we do. We think it’s really simple and that we have things all mapped out or that life has fallen into a regular, predictable routine. Then something happens that causes the entire world to shift. The. Entire. World.

I was driving home listening to NPR when I heard a woman telling her story. I listened as she poured out her heart about the tragic circumstances that had engulfed her life. The earthquake had hit Haiti and life really wasn’t going to be the same again. She was doing the best she could roughly on 40.00 a month. Her house had been demolished but her daughter and grandchildren had survived. They were now camped in the back yard of the ruins where the house used to be. All of them living in one tiny tent and scrapping out a meager existance to survive. I might have gotten my nails done that day. I don’t remember now but it could have happened. And there is nothing wrong with me or anyone else getting their nails done as far as I’m concerned. However. And however. If I do so and forget the balence of the world oh, woe to me. And I don’t mean from God’s point of view – I mean from mine. If Lent is a time we should bare our souls and search ourselves, look truthfully in the mirror then it’s important to me that I don’t white wash my life. Not the pain, not the blessings, not the riches or the lack of them. Somehow my reality lies in between sometimes getting my nails done and weeping over that Grandmother in her tent with what family she had left. And that’s my real. That’s my life. Hers is somewhere down in a rocked and devastated country. But she doesn’t know about me, will never know my name or see my face. But her – I’ve got her right here. I’m remembering her. Praying for her. And for days I carried that women in my heart to the point I wanted to rock her. Do you hear me? And just tell me that doesn’t matter. I dare you.

Journal
Have you ever heard a story of any shape or size that gave you cause for pause. It’s unfortunate that it often takes a story of pain of some type to wake us up, shake us out of the boundaries of our lives but it’s true. Write about how you have experienced being connected to strangers through events far beyond your boundaries.

Small Groups
Discuss some of the times that you are aware of where the world crossed suddenly into everyones backyard. How did you respond personally? Were you affected by the reactions and actions of friends and family? Were you surprised by your own reactions and feelings? How do you think we can keep our hearts sensitive without it taking the impact of tradgedy to connect us.

Prayer
Well, here we are God. You see us. You know us. And sometimes we are so disjointed from real realities. So cooped up in boxes of our own choosing. Help us rip back the curtains of our compassion so that we can still feel compassion on a good day that doesn’t report news so horrible that it even tries to defy your existance. Help us be so alive that it doesn’t take the dead to wake us. By your mercy. Amen.

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day Five – Sunday, February 26, 2012

“Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Didn’t any return to give glory to God except this foreigner?” Luke 17: 17,18

Story Reflection
I was once asked while appearing at a book festival and speaking on a panel if I was to dress up as any character out of the bible who would I be. “A leper,” I replied. It wasn’t the fun answer the moderator was looking for. And she was absolutely precious but I’m certain taken aback by my answer. Through no fault of her own she had asked me a question I wanted to give an honest answer to, not one I felt would elicit drama or laughter. .. The reason I gave that answer wasn’t to be sarcastic in anyway either. What occurred to me in that moment was how often we put on our costumes, our shields, and our false characters to walk out into the world. Underneath all of it we are just as damaged, unhealed, scarred, and outcast as those lepers in the Bible. We are a bunch of heartbroken misfits putting on our dress up clothes and playing a lot of pretend in life. The only difference is the lepers couldn’t hide their disease. We can – and we do. From each other, from ourselves and even from God. Or at least we try. The lepers knew their souls were bared before Jesus. They were exactly as he saw them. Diseased, dying, and hopeless. Except in their absolute transparency they were able to present themselves to Him to be healed. What I hope is that I am exactly that transparent with God during this Lenten season. That scarred, that empty, and that hopeless without His touch. And I hope that I will emulate the one leper that returned to Jesus to thank him. Because that leper wasn’t only healed, he was made whole.

Journal
Write whatever these words bring to mind. The raw, real words on the page.

Small Group Discussion Points
Do we still have Leper’s in our society? Who are they? How are they treated? Do we as individuals ever feel like we are the lepers when we are shut out? If Jesus didn’t exclude people during his time on Earth, why do we? Should we change? If so, how is that even possible? Where would we begin?

Prayer
God, here I am a bit broken, a little maimed. There is nothing I can hide from you. Nothing. You know my story. All of it. You know how I got to this place I’m at today and all about some of the mess I’m in. There are days I feel broken beyond repair. There are days that I feel ashamed. There are days I feel outcast and unloved. Help me to know that without you we are all dying. And that in you there is perfect love, absolute forgiveness and healing. Lord, I ask you to heal me. Please, make me whole. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day Four – Saturday, February 25, 2012

It’s hard to be quiet these days. We hear a lot about it and we may agree with the fact that there is more need for it, that the days are getting eaten away with a kind of chatter that we don’t want to be a part of. That what we need is really a true day of retreat, a day to unplug, to not speak, to not listen. To be still. It’s a good day today to do that.

Story Reflection
One of the greatest things about these years of Praying for Strangers has been that the strangers don’t leave me. Their stories are somehow etched on my soul and they never disappear. They do seem to sink to the bottom for a little while but when I am still, when I am quiet, they rise to the surface as if they are remembering me instead of the other way around. It gives me a chance to prayer for the faces of those stories again. It gives me yet another chance not to be lost in the focus that is me for so much of my life. My family, my deadlines, my work, my tiredness, my worries. My, my, my. But then here the strangers come to rescue me. And what I feel in that moment of those tiny remembrances I experience in the quiet is an understanding with a surety that I have made a difference with these encounters. Each of them. Sometimes in such tangible ways that the reward for that was immediate, sometimes it hasn’t been that easy to discern. But by faith, I know the power of that prayer and interaction is real and lasting.

Journal
If you had a day of absolute quiet how would you spend it? Would it be a balm for your nerves or a nervous challenge to be disconnected and still? Do you think that you soul needs to be still awhile? How can you carve out time to spend time with God alone? Not talking, not asking, not praying, not complaining, not crying – and not even praising. Just sitting.

Small Groups
There is a type of quietness that requires solitude. Whether it’s an hour or 40 days, it requiires not thinking you are alone because you went to a coffee shop and worked in the midst of others you don’t know. What are some of the experiences good or bad that group members have had with ‘aloneness’. Express whether or not you think this alone time is important. If so, what are the ideas for incorporating it into your life on a regular basis.

Prayer
Heavenly Father, help me to be still. To be very quiet. And not to spend that time always telling you all my problems and my wish list. And in my quietness let my world be large enough to include the lives and dreams and realities of others. In the quiet moments of my life, allow me to remember those who pass by me in this world and to pray blessings in their lives. Help me to remember them as you remember me. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey

“He took the seven loaves and the fish, and He gave thanks, broke them, and kept on giving them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were filled.”
Matthew 36-37

Day One – Wednesday, February 22, 2012

 

Story Reflection:
There was a day last year when I was tired, on book tour and wanting to simply pick up Thai food to go after my event and cloister myself in my hotel room with quickness. So I did exactly that. Almost. As I carried the bags of Thai out of my jeep and into the hotel I thought I should pause and ask the desk clerk if he would like to share my dinner. I had obviously ordered too much food, and he was working late alone and it was unlikely that he would be able to take a break. I walked past the desk but he was helping a customer check in, I was tired and my bags were heavy. So I kept walking straight to the elevator and managed to press my floor number. Mind you I travel with a lot of stuff. My purse falling on one arm, my computer bag stuffed and heavy on the other, arms full of food that is dripping by now, and precariously holding a door key in one hand. I barely make it to the door, drop one bag and then slide the key down the lock. Red light. No entry. Again I try. Red light. I don’t know why they ever did away with the old key in the lock hotel system but I move that they bring it back. Pronto. But it’s not happening tonight. Heavy sigh. I pick up the dropped bag, rearrange the food and clutch it tightly as I walk back to the elevator, down to the lobby, back to the desk clerk. Of course my key doesn’t work I think. “Key’s not working,” I tell him. As he begins to apologize profusely and rekey me, I ask, “Do you like Thai food?” At first he tried to protest but his eyes sure said otherwise as pleasure and surprise and hunger all found a way to this face. He retrieved a plate from the ‘free’ breakfast buffet and we opened boxes upon boxes and divided up the food. It grew I tell you. We could have fed a multitude. The man was much happier when I returned to my room. My key worked without a problem and I gave thanks for the pleasure of having abundance and the kick in the pants to share accordingly.

Journal Question
Have you ever found yourself led to do something nice for a stranger such as pick up their lunch ticket, carry their bags, hold a crying baby while the mother ate – but were too afraid to get involved and so you walked away? What fear is near when that happens? Have you ever been in a situation where a strangers touch, a meal, a kindness would have been well received by you?

Small Group Discussion
Take this opportunity within the group for each member to share the journal questions and responses. Are any of them similar? Is there a common theme to our fear to interact with others? What could be the reasons? How would you suggest we overcome them?

Prayer
Father, let our moments of opportunity in this season not escape us so easily. Help us to be courageous in our giving of ourselves and in our sharing with each other. Let this Lenten season be one where our hearts are open to the world in ways that might surprise us and further the kingdom of Heaven on earth. Amen

Day Three – Friday, February 24, 2012

Isn’t it funny how people can go unnoticed around us? Such a multitude. Such a crowd always now in our busy lives. We are surrounded by strangers from the moment we open our eyes through television and other media and when we walk out the door, our lives are swimming with strangers. So much so that we may be tempted to close our eyes to even the fact of their existence. It’s a survival mechanism. Or so we think.

Story Reflection
Anyone can disappear in our peripheral view. They are the people who are inconsequential to us at first glance. They serve no immediate purpose in our lives. We don’t need them. And we hope they don’t need us. On book tour this past year I met a few people in passing. Could have just as easily missed them. It was a family loaded down in a car with their little girl and a new baby. Seems they were on their way to somewhere new. Had all their stuff packed up in the back of a truck and the wife was driving the car with the kids in it. Things hadn’t been going so well for them. Not so far anyway. Fair enough. Folks everywhere are having a hard time and I do mean everywhere. We actually give them a few books, some t-shirts and other promotional things we had with us on tour. And as I’m about to turn away I look down into the face of this child. I mean, I really look at her. She’s seven, maybe eight. About my niece’s age. And I fear for what is in the future of that face. I really do. I hate what I see that might be ahead of her. And part of me kind of hates that I suddenly care. Because there is nothing I can do. Not really. Except pray. And once again my thoughts go back to the power of prayer and if my silent whispers in the dark can make a difference to this child and in her life. Here’s the deal. I’m going to believe they do. I’m going to believe they can move heaven on earth and make a tangible difference in what her future holds.

Journal
What lives do you can you think of from the past or present that remind you of a time you ‘stepped over’ someone deemed just not that important. If you could say anything to that person right now what would it be?

Small Groups
How do we decide without discussion in school and small groups even – who the popular kids, adults, students, teachers, pastors and laypeople are? Why? Are our perceptions off kilter based on the wrong criteria? If you don’t think so, feel free to share why. Are there people who are just as valuable but we don’t deem that as important in life in general or our lives specifically. Do we miss out on friendships, and building stronger communities under these conditionals

Prayer
Lord, help the parts of our hearts that step over people in our path like wind-blown debris. The bit characters we see that just seem to be making up the backdrop for our world. Help us to realize that their part in this life is as important as mine, that their moment in time is just as precious. And that my prayers for their lives take me out of my world, walk me into theirs, and connect us both in yours. Amen

Praying for Strangers
Lenten Journey
Day Two – February 23, 2012

“Do not judge so that you won’t be judged. For with the judgement you use, you will be judged and the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” Matthew 7:1-2

We all have shifting seasons in our lives where we emerge on the other side of that time different. Sometimes they can be dark and painful seasons of upheaval or they can be grand time so peace and renewal. In all of these times our greatest opportunity to is to stay close to God and to seek His comfort and guidance, wisdom and inspiration.

Story Reflection
During the past three years I’ve spent a lot of time praying for passing strangers. The variety of these people and their backgrounds include the spectrum of humanity at large and society at hand. What became apparent to me early on was that judging people based on their appearance would slow me down not only in the process of offering my prayers, but slow me down on the journey of my life as well.

One particular day I had left a meeting with a pastor in downtown Nashville and was walking down Broadway when I passed a young tattooed and heavily pierced girl attending a parking lot. I did my usual turn around which is I walked past her a few feet, felt like she was my stranger to pray for that day, and then turned around to tell her so. What I expected was an angry, “Look lady, I don’t need your religion,” kind of response. What I received instead was a young girl who seemed to become smaller and younger as I spoke to her. Then choking back tears she whispered, “You don’t know how much that means to me. Things have been really tough lately.”

I left her with a little more hope and a good word. She left me with an understanding that I could take my preconceived notions of who people are based on their looks and put those away. They don’t serve me well. And they don’t serve God.

Journal Questions
What is the earliest age that you remember actually judging others based on their appearance in any way? First Grade? High School? Later? Do you feel these preconceived notions are passed down from family, adopting culturally, or just part of your DNA? When were judged quickly by others? How did it feel?

Small Groups
Address the journal questions with each other. Share stories of having both judged and having been judged. What are some of the exercises we might use to keep the words of Jesus closer to our hearts.

Prayer
Dear God, help me to see people as you see them. Truly. Help me spend this Lenten season having my eyes washed from their preconceived notions and misperceptions, from judgments and prejudices. Give me the eyes of Christ that I may be more Christ like as I walk out this journey of my life. Amen