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Orange is the new prayer


Getting ready for my son’s 8 AM Saturday soccer game may seem like an odd context for a spiritual experience.  I can tell you that when I went to bed the night before and set the alarm for 6:15, I sure wasn’t expecting a prayerful, mindful morning.  I wasn’t expecting to feel anything other than nostalgia for the warm bed I’d just left or the usual pre-game rush of panic (“Is his uniform clean?Where the heck are the shinguards?”).

But as I stood at the kitchen counter around 6:50, yawning and cutting navel oranges into slices for my little player and his teammates, I had a moment’s mindfulness.  I have my senses to thank for it.

First of all, the scent: oh my, those oranges smelled like heaven. They smelled almost as good as the coffee my husband made, and that’s saying a lot. With something so fragrant right before me, my nose was awake before the rest of me was.

And once I’d sliced them all, I realized that there were a few more than could comfortably fit into my Tupperware.  I decided that was my cue to eat one.  So I did.

I rarely ever eat oranges anymore; I’m not sure why. But that taste showed me what I’d been missing.  The little triangular segments peeling off the rind and feeling all wonderfully pulpy and sweet in my mouth: it was positively marvelous.  I can’t remember when something tasted so good, or when a food made me so instantly happy.   It was a gratitude prayer of the most simple and delicious kind.

That’s why it’s good to have our antennae tuned to the spirituality of the senses.  If we do, then any moment — even the dreaded 8 AM Saturday game — can be a little bit of God, when you need it most.

P.S. If you’re interested in cultivating your own awareness of the senses in your prayer life, check out the “Experiencing God with Our Senses” retreat on  Starting Monday and continuing throughout October, you’ll find reflections and prayer prompts to help you taste and see (and smell, hear, and touch) God’s goodness.

Let there be peace on earth


…and let it begin with me.

The Book Pile: Summer Vacation edition


Well, Mr. Darcy, I’ve been doing a lot of extensive reading these days.  Summer vacation means that the time usually earmarked for grading gets repurposed for other, more enjoyable pursuits, such as cracking open a good book.  Here are a few of the ones I’ve enjoyed lately.


The Summer Before the War by Helen Simonson

This one started off at a very leisurely pace, sort of like a summer afternoon …. so leisurely that at first, I wondered where the book’s sense of urgency was. But I kept going, and before long, the story and characters had me hooked.  Read this to immerse yourself into life in a small  English town at the time of WWI.


East Lynne by Mrs. Henry Wood

Sometimes you just want to dive into a thick Victorian saga.  When I’m in that sort of mood, I usually go for something by Wilkie Collins (try The Woman in White if you’ve never read him before).  This time I tried East Lynne, which has all the expected components: English country houses, unsolved crimes, hidden identities, unprincipled rakes, women in a swoon.  Great fun.


The Devil’s Advocate by Morris West

What makes a saint?  What is the definition of “holy”?  This was a very different sort of novel, about a dying priest who is sent to a small remote Italian village to investigate the life of a dead man who is being called a saint by many.  Each of the people in the village has his/her own memories of the deceased, as well as his/her own motivation for wanting the investigation to proceed in a certain way.  It raised good ethical questions, and provided a lot of food for thought.  If you liked Graham Greene, you  might enjoy this one.


Kingfishers Catch Fire by Rumer Godden

Rumer Godden was an Englishwoman who spent a lot of her early life in India, and this novel is apparently heavily drawn from her own experiences.  It’s the story of a well-meaning English widow with two children who decides to go live in a remote village in Kashmir, seeing it as a sort of Eden in the mountains.  Her optimistic naivete and her inability to honor (or even to perceive) the cultural differences between her family and the villagers leads to conflict and, ultimately, a near-tragedy.  I’d call it required reading for anyone going to live in a different culture, whichever culture it is, because it’s a case study of how even a well-meaning person can really mess it up.  And Godden’s prose is, as always, breathtaking.  This was my favorite of the summer so far.


Why Bother Praying? by Richard Leonard, S.J.

I heard Fr. Leonard speak at LA Congress last year, and he was wonderful.  I happened to pick this up at a retreat center a while back, and it’s a very engaging book about the many effects of prayer.  There’s wonderful wisdom in here, along with a bunch of memorable personal anecdotes (some of them hilarious) that really ground the book and make it speak not just to the head, but to the heart.


Me Before You by JoJo Moyes

This was the perfect book to take a long cross-country flight.  The effortless narrative voice and the engaging plot (it’s about a young woman at a professional dead-end who takes a job as a companion to a quadriplegic) all made for a very fast six hours.  That said, I’d have given the book a different ending — if you’ve read it, you’ll know what I mean — but still, it was an excellent summer read and I can safely say that Moyes has a new fan (and, as my younger son pointed out, only one letter separates her last name from mine.  I love how kids notice these things.)

What are you reading now?  Do tell!


Beauty upon beauty

Back home in California after a wonderful week visiting family in upstate New York.  Everytime I’m there, I marvel at the landscape: the lush, green hills; the deciduous forests; the profusion of wildflowers; the calm stillness of Otsego Lake (called “Glimmerglass Lake” by the novelist James Fenimore Cooper).  It’s so different from the ochre summer hills of California.

And as if the usual natural beauty weren’t enough, on Saturday night around dinnertime, we were treated to this:


When a rainbow like that appears, you just have to stop what you are doing and gaze.  It spanned the lake, brilliant and vibrant, a perfect arch.  And then as we watched, the faint image of a twin rainbow appeared around it (not captured on film, alas).  The colors were so distinct and vivid, so much moreso than in this photo.

It stayed for at least ten minutes, maybe more; I sort of lost track of time.  I looked out from the balcony and drank it in,  not wanting to leave as long as it was there.  And I actually found myself grinning and saying, “Okay, God, now you’re just showing off.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you.


Where are you seeing beauty today?

Hummingbird happiness


There’s something about a hummingbird. They are quicksilver fast, sprightly, colorful; their little rapidly-beating wings are marvels of aerodynamics.  The sight of one always raises my spirits.

I always used to catch glimpses of them in the backyard, but not nearly often enough.  So I asked for a hummingbird feeder for my birthday, and my husband obligingly picked out a beautiful one and hung it outside the small deck in the backyard.

And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

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Not once did I see a hummingbird come to the feeder.  The line of red liquid stayed at the same height, never decreasing.

I felt depressed, like a restaurant owner with no customers.  Were we doing something wrong?  Was there some stray cat lurking about the yard, scaring away potential guests?  Throughout the spring, I wondered and looked wistfully at the glass globe I could see just outside the window.

Then – two weeks ago – I was sitting and reading on the deck and all of a sudden I saw it: a small movement up near the feeder.  I froze.

A tiny bird landed on the perch.  It seemed to see me, but didn’t fly off.  I stayed immobile, almost afraid to breathe. It seemed so scrawny and thin, somehow, seeing it up close and not in motion.

As I watched it bent its head and drank.  I was thrilled, even more thrilled than I’d expected I would be.

It buzzed off into the blue sky, and I watched it go.  If it were human, I’d have called, “Thank you for coming! Tell all your friends!”   It was astonishing how happy I felt at seeing my gift enjoyed.  That close contact with the little creature was such a blessing, pure and simple.

It may not have been the first bird to drink there; it’s very possible that others had been there without my seeing them.  But there was such joy in being part of that moment, and in seeing the bird come confidently to the feeder, even with me sitting right there, to drink up.

Maybe this is how God reacts when we stop and drink in his gifts.  Does he feel the same kind of joy when we pause in our busy lives, when we stop flapping long enough to sit down and savor the sweetness of his creation – a summer evening, a bank of honeysuckle, a rainbow, a hummingbird?

I like to think so. I like to think that maybe my own gleeful reaction is a little taste of the delight that God feels when we accept what he offers.  “Thanks for coming,” I imagine God calling as we buzz away refreshed.  “And tell all your friends.”