By Candlelight...

Somewhere in hazy ancient pre-history, our ancestors tamed fire and their world opened up. A candle, lit in the dankest cave or the darkest stone hut, dispelled the night, chased away spirits, and enabled them to continue on with the work of their world long after the sun had set. A candle was a blessing, something so special in that long ago time that it was given as a lighted sacrifice when prayers were offered up to their gods, their God. In my search to rekindle my heart and spirit, I've returned to the candle. By its light, I read my daily devotion; by its light I offer my prayers. Unlike my ancestors, my candle gives me a focus that shuts out the world. In the dark morning or the late night, I turn out all artificial light and light my candle. Beyond its flickering glow, the world's busy-ness stays quiet in the dark; I can ignore it for a time. Offering a prayer as I light my candle, I call Spirit into my life. Candlelight brings only enough illumination for the task at hand...writing, reading, praying, meditating. I can forget about reports, projects, data, balancing the checkbook. Only when I blow out the candle's gentle flame and flip the switch that brings electricity surging into light bulbs big and small is there enough light to do the world's work. A few brief moments in a world lit only by a single flame soothes and centers my soul. I am again at one with Spirit.

Sunday Worship

I couldn't have picked a better Sunday to worship as I seek to re-center myself in Spirit. I worshipped on Sunday instead of Saturday evening because the Confirmand that I was given to mentor needed to meet and interview me for her next class this week. Her family attends the 10:15am service, so we made plans to meet at 9:30am. We tucked ourselves into a corner of the downstairs chapel away from the noisy Parish Hall, so we could actually have a conversation, and she began her questions. How could I not focus on Christ when she asked when I first knew I was a Christian? Her questions about where I most feel God in my life made me think and remember and feel again those times that I called on God and He answered. We shared a mutual place where both of us feel God's presence...in ancient churches. She completed her assignment, but I gained far more than she did from simply answering her questions. Then upstairs for the service of saints on this All-Saints Day. There were two babies presented for baptism...my very favorite sacrament. I loved watching Mary annoint them with the blessed waters of baptism and Elizabeth seal them in Christ with the oil of chrism. But my favorite part of the baptismal sacrament is when we in the congregation are called to support these children as they grow in faith. And then we all re-affirm our baptismal vows, saying after each vow "I will with God's help." Strong words that bring me back to center, back to Spirit; words that remind me that all I am and all that I do comes from God.

Organ Music and Candlelight

I'm sitting here journaling by candlelight and the organ music of Conques, searching for God in the midst of the world's busy-ness. Since returning from France, busy has been non-stop: work issues, projects including moving my office, a long weekend in San Diego visiting family, buying a new car and bidding the old one 'adieu,' struggling with a sorethroat and cough, a dental problem, a doggie health issue, planning trips to the laundromat (I've GOT to buy a new washer soon!). You get the picture--all those things that hold you in an iron grip of worry and distraction. Where is God in all this? My Centering Prayer practice has stopped; I hardly find time to journal, say a quick bedtime prayer or even glance at the prayer list from church. I feel frazzled, a bit empty and annoyed at myself for letting exterior things interfere with my interior peace and groundedness. I've decided to let the wonderfully opaque graphic glass windows of the Abbey Church at Conques block out the world's distractions while I renew my inner spirit. For the next few days, I'll seek Spirit in ritual and intention. Will you join me?

Merci Lady

Since I'm not Catholic, many of the saints, customs, and ceremonies that I encountered as I visited the churches of France last month had little meaning for me other than simply being beautiful. Laury introduced me to one of her rituals, however, that made so much sense that I've decided to adopt it. She has her favorite Merci Ladies at each of the churches in her area. The Merci Lady is, of course, the Virgin Mary, but a statue of her that usually stands alone, dressed simply as a blessed and faithful woman. No fancy robes or crowns of glory; no Infant or dying Christ in her arms. She stands waiting to help, open to your prayers. Laury always lights a candle and says a prayer of thanks, a merci prayer to this woman of God. Once I started looking for the Merci Lady, I saw her in every church. And I, too, would light a candle and say a prayer of thanks...for friendship, for opportunity, for all the blessings that God has bestowed upon me. Do you have a ritual to offer thanks to God? Do you have a Merci Lady in your spiritual life?

This lovely Merci Lady stands in the 15th century church at St.-Cirq-Lapopie.

What Color is Your House?

It's a cold, snowy day in Iowa. I looked out my window this morning onto a world of grey and white...early winter had arrived. To lighten my spirits, I decided to blog about colorful Collioure at Musings from Red Bell Farm. And sure enough, I left home headed to church for our Centering Prayer workshop with summer in my heart. God's blessing of a wonderful trip to France provided me with yet another blessing with its memory on this dreary Iowa day. As I walked into church, I was immediately captured by colors on the wall. The pre-school class had painted lively pictures of their houses and hung them for all to see.

Hearts filled with God's love, these little ones paint their world and their houses with vibrant color. When I ignore God's loving presence or forget to be grateful for His many blessings, my world becomes sad and grey, and my heart becomes heavy. By offering my gratitude in prayer, I welcome God's vibrancy back into my life. My house is full of bright color. Is your heart filled with God's love? Is your world cold and dreary? Could remembering God's blessings fill you with colorful gratitude? What color is your house today?

Sainte Foy

Who is this young girl kneeling in faithful supplication before the hand of God? Why is she in such need of His loving presence? She is Sainte Foy, and I found her at Conques, a magnificent pilgrimage site in the Aveyron. Here is her story:

Foy, whose name means "Faith" in the Occitan language of her times, was the 12 year old daughter of a wealthy Agen nobleman. Born in 290 C.E. Foy was cared for by a wet-nurse who taught her the Christian faith which she embraced with love and enthusiasm. She especially liked to take food to poor Christians who lived outside her family's villa. She was encouraged in her good acts by Caprais, a local Christian bishop, but her father was angered that she stole food and gave it to Christians.

The years between 294 C.E. and 305 C.E.were especially dangerous for Christians as the new Emperor, Diocletian, began a new wave of persecutions. His local governor, Dacien, carried out his edicts and martyred many Christians in his district. He visited Agen in 303 C.E. There Foy was betrayed by her own father and sent to appear before Dacien. He ordered her to give sacrifice to either Diana or Jupiter to prove that she was not a Christian. This 12 year old child stood up to the Governor refusing to do either and proclaiming that she was a Christian and in the name of Jesus Christ was ready to suffer any kind of torture. Dacien ordered her flogged, then had her tied, naked, to a metal grill to be burned alive. It is said that snow fell miraculously putting out the fire and wrapping Foy in a mist to cover her nakedness. Undeterred, Dacien then had her beheaded...a martyr for her faith.

Many miraculous deeds are attributed to this young saint who is described as fun loving and playful. She has healed blindness, helped mothers in childbirth, and has a special penchant for freeing shackled prisoners. Her remains were brought to Conques in the 9th century where they are venerated in the Abbey Church there.

Here in one of the chapels around the nave of the church, Sainte Foy is seen holding the sword that killed her and the palm branch that symbolizes her martyrdom.









This grillwork, some of the best example of Roman ironwork in France, is said to have been made of the iron fetters from the chains of prisoners who owed their freedom to the intercession by Sainte Foy.

I am mesmerized by this young girl's story. A child of 12 years, not yet a woman, whose faith was so strong she could stand up to the Roman government and die for her love of Christ. A faith so strong....would I have this strength? Would you?

Bells

Life in rural France is measured by church bells. From my bed at Laury's I could hear the hours and half hours chimed from two different village churches along the Lot. Last Saturday evening I heard bells coming from a different direction calling the villagers of Cadrieu to Mass. Their itinerant priest celebrates Mass the last Saturday of every month, and the bells ring to remind them..."This is the day...come!" In Conques I heard the bells persistently calling the Brothers to church for 7:30am matins and 7:30pm vespers. Watching them hurry into the church, their long white robes flapping wildly over their sandaled feet made me hurry as well. Slipping quietly into a back pew, my heart was thrilled by the sweet tenor voice that began to sing the liturgy the moment the bells became quiet. The bells that chime in my photo are from the church in the tiny village of Cenevieres. Protected by its 12th century chateau, the church and its villagers have been marking time, praising God, celebrating Holy Eucharist, giving thanks for births, marriages, and saints, and mourning deaths to the rhythm of these bells for centuries. Worshiping God and measuring life...always reminded by the bells.