I love Psalm 8, the lectionary gift of today. I know I often say, “That’s one of my favorites!” and really mean it, but this one is really special to me, my most favorite of all. Just listen to these few lines. Repeat them aloud:
Lord, our God, how wonderful your name in all the earth! When I behold your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you set in place—who are we that you should be mindful of us, that you should care for us? Yet you have made us little less than the angels and crowned us with glory and honor…
If you’ve ever looked out on a star-studded sky or watched a rainbow appear after rain…if you’ve ever seen a field of sunflowers turning toward the sun or smelled a rose in her fullness, you will understand my bow to beauty. If you have watched from a screened-in porch the power of a storm and heard it announce itself in peals of thunder, counting the seconds between it and the lightning to determine your distance from the eye of the storm, you will feel the exhilaration of nature’s power…or if you have stood ankle deep in the ocean or on the edge of a placid lake at sunset, you will know the peace that overtakes you. If you lean down to study an inch worm or watch a grasshopper jump, you may have been able to share a smile with God who is delighting in the creation much more than you, yourself. And then there is the possibility of looking into the eyes of someone who loves you and whom you love, finding there the wonder and deep meaning of the word “love.” Then you may be grateful as I always am when this psalm shows up in prayer, expressing the immensity of the Creator’s love, the One who plays in joy at the amazing diversity of the creation that is ours and offering it to us as gift.
Sometimes it’s necessary to count on the words of others for inspiration or solace. That’s one of the primary reasons for my frequent references to biblical texts or modern inspirational writers at this season when bad news seems to vie with inclement weather to wipe out most, if not all, spiritual energy. Joyce Rupp is my “saving grace” this morning with the conclusion to a prayer service for peace in her book, Prayer Seeds. May it be a motivator for you as well.
The name Jeanne Jugan did not strike a chord of recognition in me, nor did the title Mother Marie of the Cross (Mere Marie de la Croix). I have, however, known since early adulthood of the work of The Little Sisters of the Poor, who had an established house not more than a few miles from my own Motherhouse outside of Albany, New York where I lived. We speak sometimes of “the hidden life” of Jesus – the years during his youth and young adulthood about which we have little or no information. It seems that St. Jeanne, as well as the Sisters who have come after her, lived most of her life in that manner while doing extraordinary work for the elderly poor. (see Saint of the Day at 
Today Christians celebrate the feast of St. Mark, known as the author of the shortest of the four canonical gospels. Mark never wrote anything superfluous but got right to the point. That reminds me of my father’s frequently repeated phrase, “short stories” when we were explaining something in a longer narrative than necessary. It also brings to mind something I learned long ago about interactions in groups. I was taught to ask myself three questions: 1. Is this necessary to be said, 2. Is it necessary that I be the one to say it, and 3. What will be the result of saying it?
I just spent about a half hour reading on the internet about sheep. I never got past the basic information about things like their color (some are very dark brown while most are white), life expectancy (10 – 12 years), amazing peripheral vision (270-320 degrees) which allows them to see behind them, two sets of teeth, excellent hearing and scent glands in front of their eyes and between their toes!!
On this Veterans Day I think of my father, proud of his service in World War II while abhorring the thought and the reality of war. I think of those who protect us today from different kinds of enemies and those who keep the peace. I think of those whose work is in disaster areas near and far and all who have given their lives in service to our country. And I think of their loved ones. It is for all those and for the rest of us who are the beneficiaries of their service that I pray this anonymously posted prayer.
There are moments – days – when I sit not knowing what to say here. The words nine and eleven, when taken together, can conjure up only one thing for most, if not all, people in the United States. We were shaken to our core in 2001 with images of planes crashing into buildings and those buildings crumbling like structures in a bad movie. Messages of love on cell phones and lines of people waiting to give blood to the wounded showed us the other side of the tragedy. Remembrance of the outpouring of care for those most affected has helped assuage the grief of those days following the 9/11 attacks but it is like other days in our history that have left indelible scars in our hearts.
The weekend just past was for me a time of great blessings. On Friday we welcomed a group of people – mostly new to us – who came for a workshop offered by our friend, Brigitte, here at our home. I met one of our guests, Patty, at the bus station. Patty lives in Manhattan and as we fell into easy conversation, I began to see our small town through her big city eyes. She was very interested in everything. From all reports, everyone at the workshop came and/or left very happy at all they found here. I was on the road, however, by 9:00 Saturday morning.
Joan Chittister gave me a paragraph to ponder this morning from her book, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily. I thought it was worth sharing, not necessarily for others to agree but simply to measure the reflections of this wise woman against my own to see if there is resonance there. I offer it today in that spirit.
This may sound a bit crass to some who expect a reflection on the Good Shepherd today, but I just read an article about yesterday’s annual Kentucky Derby and made a connection that I want to share. It’s not about sheep, obviously, but rather horses and the fact that even really rich people can share dreams that start in childhood.