Gratitude in the Face of Grace

Thank you message in the grotto at Our Lady of Guadelope Church

 in New Orleans.Added by parishioners  in gratitude

 for prayers or miracles granted.

Gratitude begins with awareness

And fuses with love;

Embellished by the gentle ticking

Of time and seasons;

By infinite acts of loyalty,

Steadfast dedication and kindness;

Constancy and love:

A devotion born

From the Heart of God;

Gratitude thus Gathers

In the Face of Grace.

©1995 Connie Nelson Ahlberg

Blessings of the Thanksgiving Season

Norman Rockwell 1943

May your mashed potatoes be smooth;

May your stuffing not turn to mush;

May you win the wishbone;

May there be no guilt to pass;

May all grievances be forgiven

(at least until the dishes have been put away);

May your stomach be glad and

May your memories be like a broth you savor for years.

                                                                       

                                          ©1995 Connie Nelson Ahlberg

Orange Caps or No

Sears Orange Dakota Cap

Driving from Minneapolis to the North Shore gave me hints of what was to come. Two deer laid alongside the highway on the way: with blood on fur. Cars were parked alongside the highway, too, as I approached Grand Marais. They made me nervous.

Only shoot if you need the meat to eat, I said silently to the hunters. I should have added: Please don't hit me...which is what I was thinking. 

The winds were harsh. On my first morning there, a man and his wife or girl friend started to leave for the hunt. She looked like she was on her way to a wake which was true enough. 

I like how older men get late in life: they don't want to kill anymore. They'd rather watch the deer eat at a salt lick or dance across the yard. 

Most men in Grand Marais were dressed in camouflage outerwear except for the orange stocking cap. A few removed the hat indoors. My mother cheered in heaven for their etiquette.

Cascade Resort made me happy as they dressed their two deer figurines in their yard in brilliant orange attire: a message for the astute. 

Thich Nhat Hanh writes in his Five Mindfulness Training on Reverence for Life that we resolve to live by "the insight" of compassion and interbeing, protecting humans, animals, plants and minerals. 

A dear friend who is serving as a nun in the Franciscan order admits she finds St. Francis a bit loopy. That's okay with me. St. Francis was a Saint known for the stigmata (the wounds of the Christ); humility, and his affinity for birds and animals. 

As far as deer season, I go with St. Francis.

Legend of St. Francis

Sermon to the Birds

Prayer of the Late Bloomer

Chrysanthemum: Dance

Lord of all Seasons,

In my youth I wished myself tulip

Then even daffodil

But I am really chrysanthemum,

Flowering in my autumn;

See my shoots, my leaves

All green!

I may not be exquisite, but

I am flowering at last, Lord,

For You!

Rooted in You

Absorbing my needs

My greening was due!

May I, Lord,

All autumnal floral

Grace thy table

And winter with thee?

                                         Amen.

©1994 Connie Nelson Ahlberg

All Rights Reserved.

Other Christs - Growing Up in Christ Consciousness

St. Richard's Catholic Church & Adjacent School

(Now called Holy Trinity)

In recent weeks I've been reading about Christ Consciousness. In reading I have been lifted, but I have also found in researching the term, memories of my early years of Catholic education coming to mind.

I can remember being in the church of St. Richard's in Richfield, MN (a Minneapolis suburb) and being taught that each of us, each of us, was "another Christ." 

This left a powerful imprint on my mind...an imprint that is still there. In the 1950's and early '60's, our school experience was profoundly religious. In those days, there was daily Mass, religion class, and later a St. Richard's Breviary prayer meditation which took place three times a day. In the monastic language prayers were termed the Divine Office. As children we said prayers in the morning: Terce; mid-day, Sext; and None, mid-afternoon.  

When I look at my prayer book now...the psalms and readings are so familiar that each is like visiting an old friend. Part of my soul and bones reawaken with each word and phrase. 

Being taught that all those students around me, and even some teachers I didn't like, well, we were all "Other Christs." It was a reverential teaching for a serious little girl who was God centered, I believe, even then. 

I carried these tenets with me to my first job in Birmingham, MI after a move there following 8th grade. It was in my first job in retail that I was put to the test.

I worked with a woman of another faith but also a personality not to be denied. I had to work hard on telling myself that Virginia was Another Christ. I looked for the good in her, and of course, I found it. 

When I left the job, Virginia had a gift for me, a small book on friendship: A Friend Is Someone Who Likes You by Joan Walsh Anglund, which had wide popularity at the time. Virginia wrote in it which meant a lot to me. 

Now I know or believe that Christ Consciousness can have other names. Whether Buddha Consciousness, the Over Soul, Higher Consciousness, Allah, Holy Spirit, Brahman, Collective Unconscious, or Great Spirit...we are all united under God.

What was old is new again or what was old was never old, but timelessly true, for all eternity.

A Boy's Will is the Wind's Will

"A boy's will is the wind's will and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." Longfellow

The SS America

It's hard to go back 100 years if you haven't lived it. But if you have lived it--it's a snap! Phoebe Josephine Pecore Nelson returned home to her mother in Rhinelander, WI to have her third child. My father, Willard Charles, was born on November 11, 1914. He will turn 99 years of age on what was termed Armistice Day which marked the armistice signed between the Allies of World War I and Germany at Compiegne, France in 1918.

In a few short weeks, family will meet to honor Willard's birth and long life. The son of a fisherman (and small resort owner) who grew up on Lake Superior, he looks at that giant Superior now and on any given day tells me the direction of the wind off the lake.

Just a few days ago, my dad said: "It's a southwest wind today; I can see whitecaps on the water." 

This startled a visiting Twin Cities' neighbor several years ago--who found it hard to see the waves herself! She was stunned he could! My dad has always had exceptional eyes for distance.

In the "old days," if fisherman ignored the wind on Lake Superior, they did it at their own peril. It is still the case.

Dad was born in a time when Germany invaded neutral Belgium, Babe Ruth joined the Red Sox, and Joseph Kennedy married Rose Fitzgerald in Boston. 

In January of 1914 Ford Motor Company established the eight-hour workday with the minimum wage of $5 for a day's labor. Later that year, Henry Ford had sold 248,000 cars. 

At just two weeks of age, my father and grandmother made the journey from Duluth to Lutsen, Minnesota on the SS America. In the 90's Dad mentioned three ships he may have been on for that trip: The *SS America, the Steamer Winyah (ship logs exist from 1933-1935) and the Edna A. He has said since then the other freighters came later. 

Fearing the baby could contract pneumonia, little Willard was allowed into the captain's chambers where liquor was place on his lips to ward off the chance of infection. When they reached the beginnings of Lutsen Resort at the mouth of the Poplar River, my grandfather Carl rowed a skiff out to the America to pick up his wife and second son. 

To still have a father who picks up his phone and calls me is a joy and peace difficult to translate from the heart in which it resides. It's a profound gift. I honor our relationship. We are very close; and I am--very blessed.

*In the pre-dawn hours on June 7, 1928, the SS America struck a submerged shoal off the shore of Isle Royale and had to be abandoned. Everyone made it off the ship in time. The America still lies off Isle Royale in the frigid waters.

Letting Go! Letting Go!

Letting Go, Letting Go

Let the Breezes Blow You!

Each oak and maple tree

Teaches me,

Come along each October:

About spiritual branches

Stretched just so;

Shimmering sighs of

Orange and gold,

While the wind weaves

The trees' whispers:

"Darlings, I'm letting go!

Letting go!

Let the breezes blow you!"

©1997 Connie Nelson Ahlberg