Category: Weekly Meditation

When I was a little girl, my mother used to buy shoes for my sisters and me at Alexander’s Department store. Now these shoes would be on tables, and the left and right foot would be connected by a little plastic ring, making it impossible to try on both shoes at the same time. It wasn’t comfortable or even practical, but it was what we could afford at the time. I longed for the day when I would be able to go to the third floor of Alexanders, take a seat in the shoe department, have a salesman bring me the shoes (in the box!), and then try on both shoes at the same time – and actually walk to a mirror to see what they looked like. Somebody knows what I’m talking about!

Nowadays, I am THE shoe queen. I’m pretty frugal about most things – but when it comes to shoes … well, all bets are off. My shoe shelves (yes, they have special shelves) are filled with every style and color imaginable. And yes, brothers, a sister does need more than one pair of black shoes.

And that’s the story for a lot of us: Most of us live with a lot of extras in our lives. Stuff we’ve become so used to that we’d probably call them necessities. We’re living by our “wants,” not by our “needs.” We regularly live in the excess – getting an extra large fries when a medium will do. Buying six pairs of socks, when we really only need two. Having extra coats just for variety. Enough food in your fridge and pantry so you don’t HAVE to shop for a month. Ordering dessert when you’re already full.

Our society has taught us to value our lives by how much stuff we have and how much we can accumulate. But the Scripture reminds us that that’s not where true wealth lies; that that’s not a real measurement of whether we’re living abundant, fruitful, productive lives. True wealth springs from the condition of the heart. From how you treat people. How you love people. How you respect the “other.”

So this week: EDIT. Forget about the stuff. Give your credit/debit card a rest. Don’t buy a thing! Instead, hug a child. Call your mama. Send your dad some flowers. Apologize – even if you weren’t wrong. Call an old friend and see how they’re doing. Hold the door for someone. Smile at a stranger. Pay the next guy’s toll. “Let your light so shine that everyone can see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”

Remember when you were a kid playing with your friends, and your turn at marbles or hopscotch or double dutch came? And you completely overshot, or stepped on a line, or got tangled in the rope? But instead of giving up, you shouted “do over!” And it meant you got another turn. No one argued with you, because everyone understood that “do over” was a completely accepted part of the game.

Our relationship with God is sorta like that. Each morning we step to the line, eager to do our best, to give it our all, to be a better person, to give up a bad or self-defeating habit, to be nice to people, to be understanding, to be grateful, to be sincere, to live as Christ lived, to love as Christ loved. And often, before we’ve been at it for two whole hours, someone has gotten on our nerves, shut the elevator door in our face, cut us off in traffic, wouldn’t listen to our comments. And our best intentions toward civility and self-improvement go right out the window.

And guilt comes right in, often followed by depression . . . How could I let this happen? I should have had more patience. I should have been nicer. I should have been stronger. I’ll just never get this right. Why do I even bother?

But the Scripture reminds us that even in our failings and shortcomings, God loves us just the same. In fact, His love is unending and unfailing! And because He loves us so much, He gives us a new chance every minute of every day to shout “Do Over!” So try again, start over … if God says you can, then who says you can’t?

Once, while visiting Peru, I had the privilege of attending Sunday Mass at Iglesia San Pedro Apostolo in Cuzco, a town in the Sacred Valley.  The service began at 11am with prayer and hymns.  The sanctuary was partially filled with worshippers from the local community, including a fair number of young people.  All the hymns were offered in a reverential, but subdued tone.  It was not exactly a spirited song service.

But twenty minutes into the service, something changed.  A woman arrived, obviously a regular, and took a seat near the front, near the choir.  When the next hymn began, she sang louder than all the rest, raising her voice with obvious conviction and joy.  I can’t say that she sang every note on key, but it didn’t matter.  It was her spirit and her attitude that mattered.  And her joy was positively contagious.  Everyone around her sang louder, with more enthusiasm, and more joy.  And the service took on an entirely different tone and mood.  Just because one woman brought joy with her.

Sometimes our lives, our work places, our families are like that worship service.  Just going through the motions, doing things cause you have to, out of obligation.  But here’s a remedy:  the Scripture says “Make a joyful noise!”

This week, why not decide to be the joy? to bring the joy?  To smile instead of frown.  To see the glass half full instead of half empty.  To find the good and praise it.  You’ll find that, just like that woman in that small church, your joy will be contagious!

There seem to be so many people to whom we are accountable. Folks who are looking to us for answers, for responses, for support, for direction. Folks who take their cues from us. Children, parents, spouses, partners, friends, employers, employees, creditors, landlords, tenants, etc., etc., etc.

It can get a little overwhelming, and if we’re not careful, we soon begin to feel that we’re living our lives just to fulfill all these demands and expectations, just to please all the important people in our lives. And our lives can start to resemble a highly choreographed performance, complete with juggling too many balls, dancing on too many sets, and balancing on way too high a wire.

But I want to remind you of one simple, but important thing. There is only one audience that matters. And there is only one person in that audience: God our Father, the Lover of our Souls. In the end, His review is the only one that counts. And the best part is: God is not some dispassionate observer, watching us with critical eyes, waiting for us to stumble or mess up our lines or screw up our scene. No, God wants to give us a good review, so He sits as the Audience of One, clapping loudly and cheering us on.

So give God your best performance. Hold nothing back. Shine vibrantly. Laugh deeply. Share bravely. Sing joyfully. Speak lovingly. Forgive fiercely. Give generously. Love hard. Dance, like David, with all your might. Your biggest fan, the Audience of One, is watching.

Daniel, my four-year-old nephew, and I had our first stairway chat last week. (Stairway chats are an Auntie Leah tradition, started years ago when Lorenzo – now 20 – was a little boy.) During stairway chats, we sit on the hallway stairs – just the two of us – and talk about whatever is on our minds.

Well, on Daniel’s mind that night were “houseless” people (his term for the homeless) and where they sleep, the differences between plane rides and train rides, the reasons I needed a bigger apartment, whether I would always have a bed for him in my house, whether grown people have daddies, and whether soda can kill you.

And then we got to the really deep stuff: Where is God? How can He be in heaven and with us on earth at the same time? Does God really hear us? Does God have a voice? What does it sound like? How can He live in heaven AND in our hearts at the same time?

I will openly confess that I did not have ready answers for all of his questions. I finally offered that God was like Superman or Spiderman. (Daniel is currently obsessed with superheroes.) So God is able to see everything, hear from far distances, and come quickly to us when we need Him. And that answer satisfied my beautiful, smart nephew – at least for the moment!

But I was mostly taken with the innocence of Daniel’s questions. Asked earnestly and spoken purely with just a yearning desire to know, and an assumption that I would have the answers.

As we get grown, we walk with so much cynicism. Over the years we build an armor around our hearts and our minds, and we take that armor into every situation and every relationship we have. Even our relationship with God. But if we really want to know God, we have to learn how to come to Him with the innocence and openness of children. Earnestly, purely, seeking to know His heart. You have questions? It’s all right to ask! Just the act of asking God for the answers is a statement of your faith: It shows that you believe that He has the answers you seek and that He is willing to share them with you. Maybe it’s time you and God had a stairway chat of your own . . .