Sermons

READING ~ My Dreams, They Matter by Phoenix Bell-Shelton Biggs

Though at times I may forget who I am or who becoming,
My dreams: they matter. When I make space for all that is;
When I move away from that which no longer serves me,
When I make space for the new possibility in the circumstances;
My dreams do matter.
They matter; they hold many truths and many turning points;
They matter; though at times I may convince myself they don’t, they do,
For they call me back in time and forward still.

My dreams matter. They matter, as they pull me inward and yet simultaneously push me outside of myself;
My dreams matter; they matter as they speak to the breadth of love, of pain, of hope, that rest deep in the fabric of my blood and bones.

My dreams matter, as they are connected to the dreams of my ancestors;
Connected to all who have graced this earth before, who grace it here and now,
And will be connected to all who grace this earth, when I, when we, grace this place no more;
My dreams, they matter; your dreams, they matter; our dreams, they matter.
They matter.

READING ~ [Excerpt from] For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet by Joy Harjo

Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.
You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.
Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.

Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together.
They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long.

SERMON ~ “Glimmers Calling Back Spirit”

At the start of Spring the video monitor at my windowless door began to seemingly malfunction. First my automatic doorbell would chime and then I would receive the message on my phone, “There is someone at your door".  Again and again. But there was no person to be seen upon opening the door. And then again.

I was busy, occupied with a number of important tasks, and the continuous alert of a mysterious invisible presence at my door was a curiosity, and after some time a bit of an annoyance, “WHO’S AT MY DOOR?”

Thus, I investigated. I watched the camera of my door in real time, and quickly there was my answer. Back and forth, in and out of view, yes in fact a visitor to my door; a bird attending to their nest.

I was taken aback by this realization, of the source of my confusion and at one point irritation. A bird, doing just as I was, attending to their business to ensure a proper home for their family.

I am still alerted when the bird leaves and returns, and now I recognize the chirping and song that before I had been oblivious to. Their presence building and fixing up their nest, a renewal of home had touched my spirit. And the bird had sang amongst their busyness. Something I had forgotten I too could do.

Forgotten? Perhaps rather pushed down and stifled over time and  humility. As a child I was always in song, whether From the radio, records,  tapes, and cds. My parents had music playing all the ttime. And then there were the songs that I made up, spontaneously. I was uninhibited and whether it sounded any good from my vocal chords mattered not. I was joyous and happiest when singing. Overtime the frequency of song changed. As I got older I became more self conscious of my voice, in song and in other ways. My singing became a private activity, until it pretty much stopped.

I think many of us do this, in one capacity or another. Lose connection with things that bring us life, pieces of ourselves that we set down for a time. But know, these pieces are not entirely gone.

In the poem read earlier, “For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet,” Joy Harjo implores us to do just this, call our spirits back,

In part of her poem she writes:

"Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long."

From this I realize that recently I called part of my spirit back in song. I do this time to time usually when I am solitary. This most recent time was on a drive to Bangor. The length of the drive gave me time to play and really indulge in my favorite music. As Whitney Houston declared “I'm every woman “ the lyrics and the powerhouse vocals loosened something in me. And I sang. I sang with the volume up, so at first I couldn't hear my own voice. But then I turned it down slightly, curious to hear myself. My own alto voice was no match for Whitney. But I sang nonetheless,  somewhat pleased with my own sound. And as the song picked up intensity  as did I. From my core I felt my adrenaline surge, an excitement much like that from that of a carnival ride. As I held out a note tears welled in my eyes,  and I recognized this as joy.

I don’t really know how pleasant my voice might have sounded to another’s ears. But here, in my car, it did not matter. This experience was for me. How I had neglected my joy of singing. This moment here was that of self care, of tending to my soul with the beauty and joy of song.

When I arrived at my destination,  and exited the car, no one else was the wiser of my personal concert, but my mood was elevated, content, and I felt as if I had found a long lost companion. I felt joy and peace; I had called back part of my spirit with song.

From this, I am reminded of my experience as a child visiting my mother as she worked in a Nursing Home. With my father, my brothers and I would at times bring a gift of coffee to my mom, while there. In the process various (often excited) residents would greet us kids. Meanwhile, in the background the music of The Lawrence Welk show often played on the TV in the community room. And as they were able those living there would lounge, sing, dance, laugh, remember; calling back their spirits. This practice of identifying things that call back our spirit is one we will need here and now, and in the future, again and again.

When you call your spirit back what might return for you? Is it awareness of your talents, of your needs, positive memories, hopes, dreams, of your very being? What pieces of your spirit have you left to the wayside, forgotten for a time, because life has in some way made you let it go. What beautiful gift of you is waiting for you to find it, if even in memory?

And why is this so important at all? This calling back spirit, a remembering, a renewal?

Words by Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman, that I have found to be an  essential prayer, reemerged for me in this context. Thurman beckons renewal and it’s sustenance saying,

Keep fresh before me the moments of my High Resolve, that in fair weather or in foul, in good times or in tempests… I may not forget that to which my life is committed. Keep fresh before me the moments of my high resolve."

“Keep fresh before me moments of my high resolve”. I think immediately back to the innocent splendor I had in song, recently, and as a child. But then other moments start to reemerge for me. Some are just snippets of time,  moments of high resolve but their impression lasts.  What of the time as a teen that a summer rain had I inspired me to go out to dance, and then just be in the raindrops? Or the surprise, adorable discovery of a feral fluffy black kitten scaling my front door screen, and then claiming our family for her own. These were each moments in which I felt pure joy and contentment. Such little moments sustain us. Glimmers, they’re called,

As Psychology Today defines them, they are

“… those flickers of hope, happiness, or optimism that we encounter during challenging times or when we’re feeling down. Finding [them] can be as effortless as spotting a rainbow, listening to a child’s laughter, or experiencing a sense of achievement. Such brief instances of positivity serve as beacons of hope, aiding us in managing stress and worries while keeping us motivated.” (“Finding Light in h he Darkness” Psychology Today, Joyce Marter LCPC)

Presently, as I consider the experience of birds at my door I recognize this as a recent glimmer experience for me. What I’m learning about glimmers, is that they shimmer, long after the moment has passes. They exist afterward in memory to do just what Rev. Dr. Thurman addressed, to in reflection “keep fresh” for us “moments of high resolve”.

Perhaps glimmers and their memory are ways our spirit call us back. Back to center, back to remembering not just the monotony or difficulty that exists within life, but also reminding us of why we are doing this challenging thing called life. We need reflection, of glimmers to motivate us each day, even if they are for the time just in memory. Our unfolding of the positive, glimmers  and their after shimmering aid in getting us through the difficult, remind us of purpose, of the importance of joy, and renews us, in an intimate communication with and coming back of spirit.

I hear the birds at my doorframe now. Something I would have neglected to notice before. I know with my disability, and in aging there will likely come a day when my hearing will not be as strong, or present at all, and birds at my door again might go unnoticed. There may also be a day when my voice too is gone and song is not the same as it is for me now. Nonetheless, like memory of my childhood glimmers, I know these things can maintain their impact. The renewing glimmer created by this moment now, the reorientation of my awareness, and my consideration of purpose will have a long lasting reach. For difficult moments ahead, even recollection of such a past moment may in itself glimmer.

Dear ones, it is my prayer for you to notice the little joys of rejuvenation that make their inconspicuous appearance in our lives. Whether that be in some adorable creature saying hello at your door, or a beautiful summer rain that makes your spirit dance. May the glimmers in your life effectively glitter, shimmer and sustain you. May they be frequent,  may they be timely, and may they come to mind to bring a smile to your face. May your renewal of spirit now under this summer sun stay with you, and be a warming remembrance that will follow  long into and past colder days.

Blessed be,

AMEN.