Play, Prayer and Presence

Rickey and I just returned from a 13 day road trip. We traveled over 2,700 miles, and I am happy to report we traveled safely and overall we had good visiting with friends and family along the way.

We loved the changing geography. Leaving familiar flat Florida behind us, we embraced the hills and mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina. Or maybe I should say I felt embraced by the hills and mountains. I found myself smiling and drinking in peace as I enjoyed the site of slow moving cows loping across uneven fields in Greeneville, Tennesse. But the full experience of watching the light change on the trees and water in North Carolina, listening to the Toe River talk and sing as it danced downstream, stirred me deeply. 

We visited two days with my brother Fred, who lives in Celo, North Carolina on the side of a mountain.  Both days he took us down a steep hill to his "sweet spot" by the Toe River. We sat on huge rocks and talked the first day. The second day we took turns riding with Fred as he paddled us round in a kayak. I read aloud some great poems by Marie Howe (current New York Poet Laureate). Rickey read to himself. I played with stones by the river's edge, and I centered when I was left alone.  I think perhaps this photo of one of my stone sculptures captures some of the spirit of play, prayer, and presence that was God’s gift to me that day. What a gift!

Charlie's Gift--God's Gift

Celebrating the end of the semester, Rickey and I went to St. Pete Beach for three days and two nights. The first morning I took a walk I slipped a timer into my pocket and headed off in the half light before sunrise. My plan was to find a quiet spot on the beach to do my centering prayer. The beach was mostly deserted, which I loved. The air had a tangy bite, which I also loved. The breeze whipped at my sweatshirt, and although I shivered a bit, I didn't really mind. I decided I'd keep walking to stay warm and later I'd look for a spot to pray. Later turned into an hour, and I was still walking. As the sun rose, people joined me, and I finally realized I needed to stop shortly, or I'd miss a private opportunity. I spotted a small bench and headed toward it.

For Charlie Kabbash's birthday in memory of Julia and Najib Kabbash. "Look what I gave you!"  read the small plaque attached to the heavy resin-concrete bench I'd found nestled on the edge of a sand dune.  I looked at the simple solid slats and smiled at the thoughtful, creative gift. Then I settled comfortably in place. Whoa! It was one thing to stand facing the bench admiring the structure and the message, but it was quite another thing to experience the meaning. There I sat looking at the wide expanse of the Gulf. With the sun gradually inching up behind me, I watched the waves roll and sparkle gloriously. I watched gulls soar and dip so at ease in their belonging. I watched clouds gather in thick, puffy white patches. Then I closed my eyes to center. Twenty minutes later my timer's gentle "bing" calls me back, and I open my eyes to the waves, to the birds, to the clouds, to the bench and to Charlie's real gift--a place to be present, a space to breathe, a way in to being transformed by love.