Hello Reader. I hope this note finds you breathing easy and confident, connected and relaxed. But if you're tangled in the mire of struggles, I hope this message brings you a gentle whisper of Compassion to hold you in your ache or an energetic zephyr of encouragement to lift you on the wings of Hope. The road may feel rocky, impossible to walk, but may you find stillness, and in the stillness may you hear the whispered promise, Surely I am with you always.

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Podcast

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea or coffee, connect to Soundcloud and listen to the abbreviated audio version of this love letter.

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Love is murmuring your name. Are you listening?

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“I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. John 15:5 MSG

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In Luke 40, after the parable of the good Samaritan, we read about Martha and Mary:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” —Luke 38–42 NIV (emphasis mine)

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After these words, I see Martha in a tense moment… her head leans toward a quiet place in invitation, her lips pressed firmly to keep further outbursts from breaking through. Don't you care? So clear is the blustery breath, the burning eyes, the jaw locked in indignation. “Teacher, can I have a minute?”

We all experience these moments. How many times do we invite the Teacher into our fiery moments of frustration, into our achy moments of heartbreak? Can I have a moment? Will you listen as I bear my soul?

I imagine Martha’s conversation going something like this:

Martha is so entangled in her worries, she misses the question Jesus is leading her to with his firm tenderness—Is my Love enough?

According to merriam-webster.com, the word worry comes from Old English wyrgan; akin to Old High German wurgen to strangle, Lithuanian veržti to constrict.

Martha tangled her worth into what she could show the world, putting her reputation first, thus strangling the pathway of the Source.

Martha, head of a household, had a reputation for providing for others, for serving. When Jesus told her to sit down and do nothing but listen, Martha didn’t know what to do with herself. What will people think of me?

When our purpose is taken from us, what do we have? When we no longer have goals or desires to fret and fume about, where does the mind go?

I am the Vine, Jesus tells us, the Source that never runs dry. We are the branches—an extension of his hands, his feet, his words, his compassion. When we doubt, when we strive to prove ourselves, we focus on the singular unit, forgetting the One who moves within us, breathes within us, gives us meaning. We strangle the connection to the Source, the Vine of never-ending Love.

But when we lean into God, we find our True purpose, our belonging; we find Home. No longer separate but whole, moving, living, breathing, serving as one unit—as an extension of the Vine.

It doesn’t come easy, this awareness. We need to practice seeking God’s presence so that we may sit at his feet and connect to the Vine, especially in our most vulnerable, chaotic moments. Sometimes we fail. Like Martha, getting tangled in fretting and forgetting, asking, Don’t you care?

But like Martha, we also can forgive our failures and learn from our mistakes.

We see her in later (John 12:1-2, Mark 7 and Matthew 26) as the good neighbor, serving again without rebuke at the home of Simon the leper. Her friendship with Jesus—stronger than her pride—lifted her from the mire of her mistakes. Not just her friendship but also her conviction that Jesus was more than the Teacher.

We also see her in her most vulnerable moment after Lazarus had died. Martha bared her soul to Jesus, and then she listened as Jesus spoke, as he wept. And in a stunning declaration, her voice rang clear as a church bell on a sunny Sunday morning, “I believe… You are the Messiah. I believe.” (John 11:27)

Oh, those achy, chaotic days we get tangled in our doubts, strangled in our worries, frustrated when things don’t go our way. Yet, those are the perfect moments to reach for the Teacher, to learn to look inward to the One residing in our heart and use Martha’s famous words: I believe…

Not only speak the words, but act on them. Be still. Trust that Love is enough. Be still and listen.

Stillness is not an item to scrawl on our to do list in the hopes we can find the time to squeeze it in. Stillness, sitting at the feet of Jesus, lifts us from the head-pounding drudgery of our worries and shifts our focus to life-breathing Hope. Shifting our focus away from the limited self, stillness connects us to the boundless Spirit, who guides us to move and live and breathe in rhythm with God's will.

Seeking moments of stillness in the eye of the storm, we heed the invitation to sit at his feet even as chaos swirls and twirls and tries to whisk us away. One breath to call us home, one breath and the next to turn frustration into meditation, to shift moments of failure into moments of exquisite connection. I believe….

I believe you are the One. Your will, not mine, be done.

We are the branches. He is the vine—the Source of Love that never ends. The one thing we have control over in this world is our own breath, and through that breath, we connect our actions with the Spirit, and we move in rhythm to God’s will.

Remember the invitation: I am the vine, you are the branches. The Vine—the Source, the One who feeds our purpose, who breathes life into us. Can we afford not to find the time to sit at his feet?

Each of us given a specific talent and called to serve. Each of us loved with an everlasting Love. Each of us offered forgiveness. When we fall, a pierced hand reaches for us, picks us up, dusts us off, and, in his perfect timing, nudges back onto the path with the promise, “Surely, I am with you always.”

Always forgiveness. Remember the promise of forgiveness from the One who loved us so much, he gave his life so that we may live. Why is it so hard to forgive ourselves and untangle ourselves from our worries?

We are the branches. He is the vine—a never-ending source of Love.

Love is murmuring your name. Are you listening?

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Poetry Garden

This poem belongs to Questing Soul—a devotional poetry book to be published in 2023.

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Breathing Practice

Listening is key.

How much time in the day do we spend paying attention to the breath, feeling and following the breath? How can we invite God’s presence into our lives if we aren’t present in the moment?

One thing we can control in this world is our breath. And using the awareness of our breath, we draw our focus home, awakening our hearts, opening our ears so we can sit at God's feet and listen.

Let’s set an intention to be more aware of our breathing. Today, I invite you to practice intentional breathing to replace impatient fidgets.

When waiting in line becomes too long, instead of reaching for the phone, reach for your breath and say, Speak, Father, your child is listening.

When traffic makes you snarl, instead of exhaling anger, inhale awareness, Speak, Father, your child is listening.

When faced with someone who is impatient, blustery, or rude, instead of reacting in kind, seek compassion, Speak, Father, your child is listening.

Practice. Seven times seventy, or more likely, seven hundred times seventy. Simply practice. Celebrate victories; Forgive failures. Breathe.

Practice in the less chaotic times of fidgeting so that awareness and reaching for God become reflexive.

Listening is key.

Simply still listening—not seeking answers or solutions, not seeking help or releasing laments, simply being who you are in the moment, in silent reverence, clearing everything away so you can focus on the Vine and say, Speak, Father, your child is listening.

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Bloom to Share

This is a future bloom, a flower with wings. A cocoon—still, silent, waiting for the stirring.

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Listening is about being present, not just about being quiet. —Krista Tippett

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Present in God's Presence...

Speak, Father, your child is listening.

In the stillness, we listen for the whispered promise: I am with you always. In the stillness, we find our True purpose. In the stillness, we relax our minds and our muscles into the Vine allowing the Spirit to lead us on the path created for us at the beginning of Time.

In the whisper, we hear our name spoken with an everlasting Love.

We are the branches. He is the vine—a never-ending Source of Love.

Love is murmuring your name. Are you listening?

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Happy Easter! Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of Christ risen. —Mother Teresa

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