Love Letters From God... From March-into-April's Moon

Blessed New Moon!

I've noticed something about my own posting here...i often get a little nudge to a few days before the new moon...and if i wait, then it ends up after the new moon...i cant seem to do it simply during. Maybe its too sacred a time then exactly at the new moon. At any rate, at this new moon we look back on our (still ongoing) Easter season, the time of spring, of cleansing, of renewal and birth (and i feel some of that in the image above). A couple blog friends have mentioned they even prefer Easter to Christmas. I have to say i'm a Christmas baby all the way, but this really is an amzing season, both becuase of Spring and becuase of remembering our Lord's sacrifice for us, His offering of blessed new life.

As i sit to write now, i find it hard to find words. Until it hits me what this past moon has been about for me really..seeking a sort of silence, not silence of God, no rather a stilling of the buzzing in my head. So great a need its been for this stilling and silence that my computer seemed a goner after it died down malfunctioning in a co-in-see-dance...and then in another co-in-see-dance "came back to life"...but not before i had realized the true actual need to use my online time more wisely. And so blogging has slowed for me, a lot has slowed, over this past moon-th.

If i were to pick one thing that does stand out with a healing solidity, with a heartbeat (rather than with that ol' buzzing in my head) then its the healing image of "fairy bells". On that post was the original image i was drawn to, and reflecting on it later was written "And so.. when i wrote the title post for the last post, "Fairy Bells", i didnt even know what it meant yet, only that it wanted to be said. Then later after i wrote the post i looked closer at the chapel image there (the same chapel i will hopefully make into a banner here) and noticed one bell was "missing". That, it suddenly dawned, was the fairy bell. A bell still there, and yet less weighty, less visible....and yet for all of that, still so strongly there. There in a healing way i have no words for, just a draw. Kind of "Holy Spirit" feeling. And anything further, I dont even know, only, again, that i simply feel something there. Something about those "fairy bells" of the Holy Spirit, and about living in a "bluebird abbey". Not alone, not as a hermit....but still with peace." So fairy bells. And to unravel a bit...

For as long as i can remember, from girlhood really, i have had this hidden longing for an "abbey" sort of life. Not your typical modern real life abbey--as so few of them are actually even contemplative ones for women anymore ("thanks" Vatican II), and then there is that whole celibacy thing which isnt for me, and i feel marriage is a deep part of a sacred life. No, I'm talking about a more subtle abbey. A refusal to let one's peace and center be stolen, a refusal to drown in "busyness" and a good "presentation", a refusal to take on burdens and "buzzings" of the type that stand as a block between you and living a sacred life. I'm not talking about a denial of one's true work or duty (the draw of deepening "woman's skills" for instance has slowly become so strong i can taste it) , but rather a denial of a rushing and distracting busyness and small talk (fun silly stuff and laughter is precious, but that annoying small talk for an introvert is just draining) and whatever things that we dont necessarily need to be part of when something else is actually calling.

I guess it doesnt have words yet really, is still forming, and all i can really see with any solidity through the mist is...fairy bells. This abbey sort of life i long for, it has fairy bells. Subtle, magical, full of wonder, and of softness, the kind our hidden little giggling and weeping inner little girls would know the sound of, even if those entrenched in a distracted rushing sort of life can't hear them, or ignore or discount them. Fairy Bells. The precious subtle sigh of fairy bells. All i know is things must be slow enough somehow, must be soft enough, must be open enough, must be something enough, to hear the fairy bells.

The fairy bells (wow, mistyped as fairy tales, smile) as mentioned also feel connected with the Holy Spirit for me. I know this runs counter to how many see spirit, but i am feeling this for myself none-the-less. And this moon-th also held some really treasured co-in-see-dances it feels there (see April's posts on the other blog for details on of all of these): a gift of fairy topped jewelry box that happened to have carved "Spirit" on its bottomside, spirit bell photos from my blog friend Me, a realizing of the impact of a "fairy style" visio divina that had started before Yom Kippur.

And in the broader abbey vien itself, i keep remembering how my housewarming book moving here had been a 1940's book "Pilgrim's Inn (or "The Herb of Grace"), where the inn had formerly connected with a healing monastery and now was offering healing to the family living there in their own kind of "domestic monastery". Singing was key there too, just as it feels to be for these fairy bells. Singing is also key to a little special area that has formed by my desk over the past months, a gathering place for many gifts i have been given lately that all happen to have music notes on them... its amazing and precious that these past months SO much of what has been gifted has co-in-see-dancilly had music notes upon it. And last but not least here, the day before my partner left for out of state summer work (an emotional day) I accidentally opened up to a former post i'd done on the "domestic monastery", which felt like a compass of direction, another little co-in-see-dance. And the domestic part feels as important as the monastery, the song as important as the silence, somehow. It feels to be where these things meet somehow, that "fairy bell" place.

Well, in my head there was buzzing more to say, but i don't want to write about the buzzing anymore. At least i'm trying not to, lol. Really, i'm just seeking the sound of the fairy bells...

Thank you God, for the precious miracles of this moon-th!

Also from the US, Melissa of Tea With Milk shares her post this month too, a post i found very encouraging really, from here:

"I really look forward to (these New Moon postings)... Gets me in the mindset of paying attention to blessings. As for now, the Lord is having me slow my pace. Not that I’m ever like the chicken with its head cut off, but I do get anxious. In the book you read, I’d be the one who appears calm on the surface but has to drink numerous cups of hot tea to settle her stomach. The floor pacer. I’ll force myself to be strong, but I’d rather be the leaner than the one leaned upon, you know? Put me in a dire situation and I’m your man, but afterwards I’m a mess. I’ve been thinking about this, and I believe the Lord would have me face this, and I try too hard not to acknowledge it. I believe that with our eight children, I’ve got to appear all-put-together to the outside world. Well, to those folks I live with too. My husband isn’t one to slow down and rest. He will, but would rather be doing something even when he’s supposedly idle. Me—I need rest. I crave quiet and am up against the challenge of finding that peace married to a busy man. One who’ll go to work sick because he can’t stop. My habits have become a mirror of his habits. I push myself physically when my spirits are worn to a frazzle.

I’m so grateful to realize this. I jokingly tell my husband that I’m a tender flower. I’m dead serious, but have trouble even admitting it to myself. Seems weak, and I know I’m anything ‘but’—yet the world would have us always be on the go and making its brand of progress.

The book The Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge has been wonderfully healing for me during the past couple of days. She has characters who admit to weaknesses, both physical and emotional. Their bodies can’t always catch up to what the world hurls at them. I think that’s comforting. That the women have to rest in the afternoons, or are sympathetic with another woman’s frailties. Too bad the modern world scoffs at that mentality.

Anyway, that’s where I am now. The Lord’s gently steering me to be careful of myself. To live more gently and to expect maybe less of myself in any given day. I don’t have to take on the world’s problems, and it’s OK to let Him shoulder them. And you know what makes me cry? All the time? When someone does something extraordinarily giving to me (Patricia, I’m talking to you, you hear?). I’ve appeared strong to my real-life friends/family for so long, I don’t think they even think of me of having times of being fragile. That quote by George Eliot is so apt: “It is never too late to be what you might have been.” Amen."

Amen : )

And from the US as well, Me of Those Northern Skies shares her thoughts on the humble but oh so nurturing simple pleasure... of slippers : ) From here:

"My much-beloved and in need of replacement slippers...

I've never been a wearer of slippers. Actually socks, shoes, and other protective foot gear are avoided. As frequently as possible, I resort to shoes that I can just slip on. In the house my habit was to go barefoot. When one lives in a cold dry environment and one has dry feet the harsh environment means runnels and cracks at the heel, ball of the foot, and toes.

A couple of years ago I started wearing socks, it helps. Then, in 2005, my parents got everyone slippers for Christmas. My feet thought they went to heaven. When I realized how nice it is to walk without aching heels - I was converted."

Never underestimate the impact of the humble foot lol, they are after all what walk us through our life....

From the UK, Sarah of A Bend in the Road shares her lovely love letter to God this month, as well as from. From her post:

I gave my life to Jesus when I was 12ish (I can't actually remember the exact time/date, I'm hopeless at recording and remembering important dates). I remember I was at the side-altar in church when we were part of the Church of England. I wanted Him so much in my life, but for whatever reason I didn't understand His love for me. I kind of puddled my way through Christianity in a vague sort of way. I'm sure I was saved, I'd repented, I believed truly but there was something missing.

In the summer of 1991 I went inter-railing (back packing with European rail ticket) with an acquaintance from University. We had an interesting time, we didn't really know each other very well. She was kind of strange. I remember we were eating ratatouille out of a tin (like you do;)) sitting on a wall in Paris when she told me I was going to hell for not being a Catholic. Lol, I was kind of stumped. "But all who believe in Jesus go to Heaven, denomination doesn't matter", I said. But she seemed quite pleased that I had a one way ticket to the pit and she swung her legs happily - I should have pushed her off the wall. I think that she might have been getting back at me because I told her off earlier for using Jesus' name as a swear word (I hate that). Chuh!

After this she kept trying to dump me. I woke up on the train one morning and saw her striding purposely across Venice train station platform seemingly without a care in the world, I legged it after her. Then she left me standing on the banks of a canal in Venice as she floated off on a boat waving to me! So there I was not a word of Italian with a vague idea that she had gone to find a room at a convent for us that night. Praise God I found her in the end, Italy is no place for a foreign young lady on her own - the men are SO forward! Man alive, I tell you loose pants and high cut tops are the order of the day for the demure young lady alone in Italy!

Anyway, sometime later I was standing in a beautiful Catholic chapel in Venice - I SO wish I could remember which one. My 'friend' (in 'yeah right' inverted commas), wandered off (again) and I was left standing in front of a crucifix not really thinking anything in particular - except perhaps "why me Lord?". When suddenly I was flooded by love, absolutely overwhelmed. I knew Jesus loved me, I'd never truly known it in my spirit before, I knew it in my head but I never really knew it, you know?

Oh my! I felt like I was walking on golden light. When I got home I was like some cartoon like love sick person, floating around, vague smile on face, not knowing it was raining, laughing when I stubbed my toe. He loves me, He loves me.

And so He does.

This is my love letter to God, because I have had a love letter from God:

We love because he first loved us. 1 John 4:19"

("Editor's Note" lol: That amazing verse was sung in my very favorite sunday school song. As a teacher way back when i would treasure hearing that verse every single time, and the draw only grew as i got older. And back to the song, to kids it's so fancy schmancey becuase there's alot of clapping in it. So, ahem...

We love, because God first loved us
We love, because God first loved us
We love (clap clap)
We love (clap clap)
We love (clap clap)
Because God first (clap)
Loved (clap)
Us (clap clap)

Sorry, couldn't resist : ) )

And from British Columbia, Krina of QueenHeroical shares her healing thoughts on the precious gift of the wind, from here:

"Taking it out of the context of what it may carry, wind is about as simple a thing as can be imagined and yet ..

I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, A Day of Sunshine
As winds come whispering lightly from the West,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.
Lord Byron, Childe Harold
The breath of the whole world rolling over my cheeks, brushing my hair aside, inconsequential am I to the wind, but how it fills me to full sail.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim

Whether it is coming in through the windows thrown open to the spring cheer or blowing upon my face as I walk along the street, the wind has been brushing my mind clear, reminding me that there is a great wide world beyond these doors, beyond these stagnant thoughts of mine and I am bid come and join in it , for ...

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.
John 3:8"

PS I decided to turn comments off here too just like at the Bluebird Abbey blog. But comments for anything on this blog are warmly welcomed in the Abbey Mailbox : ) One comment got through before i turned off the comments so left that one be--and i had to smile that it was one from a comic relief type blog--because fairy bells love laughter!

(Image from Cicely Mary Barker )