A Sioux story tells of a young flower in a desert growing all by itself. The desert was dry and sad-looking. The flower, however, enjoyed each day and daily asked the Sun, "When shall I be grown up?" The Sun would reply, "Be patient. Each time I touch you, you grow a little." The little flower was pleased by these words. She only wanted to bring beauty to the desert around her.
One day, a hunter came by and stepped on the little flower. She was going to die. She felt very sad. The little flower was not grieving about dying. She was saddened knowing she would not have a chance to bring beauty to the desert.
The Great Spirit saw the little flower and listened to her prayer of lament. He thought, "She should be living." The Great Spirit reached down and touched the little flower, healed her, and gave her new life.
The little flower, being touched by the Sun daily, grew up to be even more beautiful. Her little part of the desert became very lovely because of her presence there.
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The words in a card from many years ago to me read:
You have added so much to this world.
Another, recently, from Inn Along the Way, where I live as a host and provide volunteer work:
[Y]ou bring a beautiful energy into IAW.
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I like to keep these kinds of notes to read later for inspiration. I want to leave this world with persons able to say I left it a little better than it was when I came here. I want to end each day knowing I have made some small difference in someone's life. I am sure you do, too. And, sometimes, a little encouragement goes a long way in our aspiration to do so.
The little flower has a vision larger than her own comfort or prosperity. She sees herself as part of the world in which she belongs. Her blessing is in blessing others.
Working with addicts in spiritual care, I urge them to be like the little flower. One of the antidotes for our suffering and toward healing is reaching out to help others. When we truly give ourselves to care for others, we enter a place of self-forgetfulness. Most of our suffering arises from a focus on ourselves - the ego acting like an ingrown toenail. In compassionate action, we enter an expansive, lighter environment than I-me-mine-myself. This atmosphere is one in which our cares and concerns fade within the self-donation to better the lives of others. Forgetting ourselves is healing.
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The Sun represents our need to be touched daily by Grace, both from our Source and others? We are beautiful, and we become beautiful by daily receptivity to Grace's touch - one of the meanings of "grace" from the Greek New Testament is "beauty." Beauty, one of Spirit's attributes, brings out the beauty within us, for we are becoming what we are and enjoy communion with. Enjoying the Sun, we become the Light, yet, at the same time, we are a ray of the Light.
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An encouraging Scripture on this graceful beauty is from the Christian Bible: "Though our outer self is slowly dying, our inner self is renewed daily." So, daily, we bring our awareness to the inner depths, not living on the surface, clinging to temporary things and experiences. This beauty is not of outer appearance but inner radiance and aliveness. We can see persons who glow with it outwardly.
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I will close today with a story of a beautiful batch of biscuits I baked...
My mom was the best biscuit maker I have ever met, and I have eaten many people's biscuits over many years. Biscuits were a staple dish where I was raised in Georgia, often having them with grits, eggs, and pork at breakfast. Often, we would do what was called sopping, meaning taking pieces of the biscuit in hand and brushing them through cane syrup.
When I married, I wanted to bake biscuits just like my mom did, or close to it. And whom better to inquire about this than her? I went home from Florida, and my mother wrote down a recipe. I returned home to Florida, and my ex-wife anticipated our having biscuits as part of our evening meal. I followed the recipe exactly, put them in the oven, and waited patiently, hopefully.
When I pulled the biscuits from the oven, I knew they did not look like my mom's biscuits. One odd thing was the biscuits had prominent ridges in them, another was flour uncooked on top. I took them to the table, and we laughed about the biscuits. We likened them to Elli Mae's biscuits from the show The Beverly Hillbillies.
Though we laughed about them, we ate and enjoyed them: beautiful biscuits, beautiful laughter, the making of a beautiful memory. My ex-wife welcomed and ate the biscuits, knowing they were beautiful for coming from her husband's heart. To me, they were very lovely indeed. They were a heart-offering. How could they not be lovely?
In what ways do you daily bring blessing to others? Are there other ways you could be like the little flower? The Sun? How do you nurture the light of your inner self daily, inviting Grace's ever-renewing work?
*Brian's book, An Ache for Union: Poems on Oneness with God through Love, can be ordered through major online booksellers or the publisher AuthorHouse.
