acceptance

#662 – o september

/ Bill Schulz / Leave a comment

I had lunch today with old friends (they had the $23 lobster roll…I had a cheeseburger). We talked and laughed about our days – 40 years ago – as reporters for the Lewiston Daily Sun, the “morning” paper published in Lewiston, Maine. Back then, there was a morning paper and an (inferior) evening paper. I showed off photos of grandchildren; we talked about traveling; Taos, Santa Fe, St. Augustine, Savannah. I learned there is a band in Russia called Salem’s Lot. We finished lunch, walked a ways, sat on a bench, talked and watched waves breaking on the rocks of Perkins Cove. And there was a hint of a chill in the air.

On my drive home, I noticed some of the leaves have begun to change color.

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fragmented, confused, and erratic

/ Bill Schulz / Leave a comment

Henri Nouwen – The great danger of the turmoil of the end-time in which we live is losing our souls. Losing our souls means losing touch with our center, our true call in life, our mission, our spiritual task. Losing our soul means becoming so distracted by and preoccupied with all that is happening around us that we end up fragmented, confused, and erratic. Jesus is very aware of that danger. He says: “Take care not to be deceived, because many will come using my name and saying, ‘I am the one’ and ‘The time is near at hand’ Refuse to join them” (Luke 21:8).

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three halves

/ Bill Schulz / 1 Comment

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Some days it isn’t pretty or inspirational. Some days it takes more than books, more than quotes, more than walks and fresh air. Some days take more than friends, phone calls, texts.

Some days you just want to make it to the end – to sleep. Some days, I don’t know why, you just show up with the whitest knuckles in the room. Some days it’s enough to breathe.

Listen to the words – be not afraid. And be.

Shifting the Sun – Diana Der-Hovanessian

/ Bill Schulz / 1 Comment

When your father dies, say the Irish
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Welsh
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians

When your father dies, say the Canadians
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Indians
he comes back as the thunder.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Russians,
he takes your childhood with him.
May you inherit his light say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the British,
you join his club you vowed you wouldn’t.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever
and you walk in his light.

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even the bad was good

/ Bill Schulz / Leave a comment

When you finally come to maturity, you can look back at your life and forgive every bit of it. You can let go of everyone who hurt you, even your first wife or husband. You don’t even need to hate the church that hurt you. Wisdom is where you see it all and you eliminate none of it and include all of it as important training. Finally, “everything belongs.” You are able to say, from some larger place that even surprises you, “It is what it is” and even the “bad” was good. – Richard Rohr