Spirituality

God, Grace, Heirloom Tomatoes and My Father’s Garden

Steve · July 15, 2012 · 10 Comments

Ferguson Farmer's Market, by Steve Givens

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8)

The sad truth is, it seems to me on this early Sunday morning, that I have spent far too much of my life not realizing how good the Lord tastes. It’s an odd notion for the psalmist to make, I admit. How is it (the wonder and mystery of the Eucharist aside) we can go about tasting the Lord?

The glorious truth is, we have been given a bounty in the tastes and colors and scents that come from the gardens and farms of God’s good creation. What better and further proof, if we have need of that, of God’s presence and action in the world than that of an heirloom tomato just hours from being on the vine? This misshapen and seemingly mis-colored fruit/vegetable (argue about that amongst yourselves!) is as difficult for our modern sensibilities to grasp as is the presence of the creator. We pass it by in the stores and markets because it doesn’t match our expectations of what a tomato is supposed to look like. But taste it…take it in…make it part of you…and the difference becomes obvious. And we find ourselves saying, “So that’s what a tomato is supposed to taste like!” It is our experience of the heirloom tomato, like our experience of God, that makes it real.

Olive Zelan Billy — My dad, right, and mom, center, around the table with friends, circa 1950.

Holy as a Day is Spent: Our Awareness of the Sacred Around Us

Steve · July 1, 2012 · 5 Comments

flower — The fecundity of life, by Steve Givens

I got out this morning for a walk in the woods near my house before I found myself in the midst of yet another scorching, humid St. Louis summer day. The temperature peaked at 108 the last few days, and more of the same is promised for today.

I was accompanied on my walk this morning by the music of singer-songwriter-teacher-activist Carrie Newcomer, with whom I have had the pleasure to work and learn a few times. As I entered the canopy of the woods, I was greeted in my ear buds with Carrie’s beautiful hymn to the sacred all around us, “Holy as a Day is Spent,” a song that never ceases to make me stop and consider where I am and how I’m taking up space on the earth at the moment. More than anything else, though, the song asks us to see the sacred in the ordinary, beautiful things of daily life. Near the end of the song, Carrie sings:

Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
The empty page, the open book
Redemption everywhere I look

Unknowingly we slow our pace
In the shade of unexpected grace
With grateful smiles and sad lament
As holy as a day is spent.

What We Have to Offer Each Other: Our Presence

Steve · May 12, 2012 · 4 Comments

candle1 — Being present to one another and to God. By Steve Givens

About a month or so ago I began volunteering for a local hospice organization called Heartland Hospice. My job is pretty basic: I visit with Margaret (not her real name) about once a week. We sit a foot apart, she in her wheelchair and I in a straight-backed chair. We look each other straight in the eyes and we talk. It’s pretty simple and Margaret makes it easy on me, as she’s quite the talker.

But our relationship is different from any other I have ever had and here’s why: From visit to visit Margaret doesn’t remember me, although she’s always enthusiastic about having someone to talk to. Like many older adults (Margaret is going to be 98 this year!), her memory is not good and so she often asks me the same questions multiple times during the hour of our visit.

And, of course, she tells me the same stories every time I visit because, after all, she’s never met me before. So I get to hear again and again about her early life in North St. Louis, about walking through Fairgrounds Park to get to the then-new Beaumont High School (where my parents would also attend a few years later), about her wanting to be a dancer but her mother refusing to allow her daughter to “take to the stage,” about her father calling her “tin ear” because she would be so engrossed in a book she didn’t hear him calling her to dinner. She talks about her two marriages (one of 40-something years and the other, later in life, of about ten years). She tells me of her two sons, one who died in his 40s and one who lives in Florida now. Or maybe Texas. That part of the story sometimes changes.

Solitude: Finding your own space and time

Steve · March 10, 2012 · 12 Comments

(The third of a three-part posting about seeking times and places of solitude in the midst of our busy lives)

“I should do myself a favor and memorize this line: To reach for God is to reach God….I should trust that God is present to me anytime I stretch out my feeble little spiritual arms.” -Fr. Mark Thibodeaux, SJ (from “Armchair Mystic”)

Shadow — Meeting Myself on the Path, Steve Givens

“To reach for God is to reach God.” Those are words of hope and optimism. For when it comes to prayer, we can sometimes think, “I just don’t know where to begin,” or perhaps, “What if I’m doing this wrong?” Fr. Thibodeaux’s quote is a good reminder that we can’t go wrong, if we only just reach out. God will see our effort and draw us the rest of the way to his presence.

So finding solitude in the midst of our busy lives is, first and foremost, always an intentional activity. We must choose to go away to a place in the country, to a retreat house, to a to a chapel, to a walking trail. Or we must choose to create a space of sacred solitude within our everyday lives, which is where we find ourselves most of the time. Those are the places that I write about today.

Solitude: Quieting the world and ourselves (part two)

Steve · March 3, 2012 · 6 Comments

(The second of a three-part posting about seeking times and places of solitude in the midst of our busy lives)

“A life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive.” – Henri Nouwen

churchlight — Light at the Center of a California Mission, by Steve Givens

We all need times of solitude in our lives for three interconnected reasons: We need to quiet the world. We need to quiet ourselves. And we need to do both of those things so we can better listen for God as he whispers our names and quietly lets us know just what it is we’re supposed to be doing with our lives.

Many years ago, I attended a retreat given by a Marianist priest and writer named Quentin Hakenewerth. With one simple lesson and a flip chart showing a set of concentric circles, he taught me something I have never forgotten and which has largely shaped my approach to prayer and seeking the will of God for the past 30 years.

He said, in essence, that the world (the outermost and largest circle on his chart) is a big, busy, noisy place. It screams at us to pay attention. With the general noise pollution of the world and with a constant barrage of advertising and media and angry, yelling people of all sorts, the world just never shuts up. Never. And we do it to ourselves, too. We fill every possible moment of silence with noise – with mindless talk, with music, with phone calls and emails and texts and tweets and Facebook postings. Even if some of these things make no audible sound, they are noise nevertheless and obstacles to our solitude and peace.