Memphis has had an inordinate amount of rain in the past few weeks. Between the warmth and the moisture, our yard has been one huge petri dish for growing mushrooms. Last Friday, armed with a large garbage bag, a trowel, and several plastic newspaper bags in lieu of gloves, I pulled mushrooms for over an hour. I pulled over twenty-five pounds of mushrooms!
When I started the task I was having a bad day; I was feeling overwhelmed and irritable. I fancied yanking the mushrooms and letting each one represent one of my irritations. Like my proposed exercise with weeds in an April blog post, it didn’t work. The mushrooms were so fascinating I forgot my bad mood.
The yard looked like a fairyland with at least a dozen varieties of fungus. Some mushrooms were as small as a 1/4 inch across, others were 6 inches. The fresh, new ones had an appetizing, earthy aroma. One of the bigger models was in such a putrid, far-gone state, it looked and smelled like something from a CSI Miami set–complete with flies. The best moment was when I pulled up a yellow, hand-sized umbrella and discovered three bright orange baby mushrooms underneath it. ”Aw,” I responded as if I had just seen my best friend’s newborn.
My attempts to remove my irritations by naming and plucking mushrooms didn’t work. But the “Glory of God” manifested in the mushrooms did.
In response to the “hand” theme of last week’s posts, my friend Cindy O (First Doodles Cindy and Mostly Markers Cindy) sent me this story:
I was driving into a very difficult situation and praying a lot on the 2-hour drive. At one point along the way, I said very urgently and insistently to God, “I need a blessing, right now, I really mean it, just put it right here in my hand.” I reached out my right hand, palm up, toward the (empty) passenger seat, and closed it to grasp. (While driving with my left hand and keeping my eyes on the road, of course.) At that moment, it came over me, in an overwhelming sort of way, “The blessing is: that I am in God’s hands.” Not at all what I would have come up with on my own, but exactly what I needed. Very powerful, very sustaining. I wrote it down as a kind of Psalm, and I pray it often, while making that same reaching-grasping gesture:
“I reach out my hand to grasp, to receive a blessing.
“And the blessing is: that I am in God’s hands.”
Cindy’s Mostly Markers blog and website has great doodles and drawings with detailed explanations of her techniques. Story used with permission.
When I want to spend time in prayer without any particular agenda, I’ll often start by writing one of the many names or descriptions of God. Then I’ll draw around the name adding dots, lines, curves, doodles…. It feels like I’m asking God to spread in all directions of my life and my being. Drawing helps me to get still on the inside and to listen. As I moved outward in this drawing, I added the names of people on my prayer list.
Of the seven deadly sins, Envy is probably the least fun. Anger, greed, lust, sloth, gluttony, and pride have all provided me with more than a few hours of enjoyment and glee. But Envy always makes me miserable. Along with iced tea, guilt, and fear, it wakes me in the middle of the night and keeps me from returning to sleep.
As a younger person, I envied the usual things–Kathy’s long blonde hair, Roger’s trip to Disneyland, Janie’s wardrobe and boyfriend, Anna’s big breasts…. I like to think I’ve evolved some because I no longer envy other peoples’ physical characteristics or their stuff (well, most of the time I don’t). I now want to be the person with the least stuff, with the least concern for my appearance and therefore the most holy. So I tend to envy the people who I perceive as more spiritually mature than I am. I want their lifestyle, their relationship with God, their joy, their silver-tongued prayers,….
But you know what? Envy is Envy. Obsessing over the spiritual stuff of others is not one bit more righteous than wanting their physical stuff. Wanting their journey with Jesus, no matter how admirable and holy it is, still leads me to misery. Instead of trying to figure out how God wants me live my Christian life using my unique gifts and person, I get all green because someone else seems so good or so together.
Gracious God, help me to rein in the Envy I project outward so I can look inward and discern the unique purpose you intend for my life and ministry.
“When I was beleaguered and bitter, totally consumed by envy, I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox in your very presence. I’m still in your presence, but you’ve taken my hand. You wisely and tenderly lead me, and then you bless me.” Psalms 73:21-24 (MSG)
I carry a little 3 ¼ ” x 4 ½ ” notebook with me at all times. It holds shopping lists, prayer lists, meeting notes, and brainstorms. It also contains the doodle postcards I send to God. Like all the prayers I offer–in my head or on paper, I don’t know what the delivery method is. I’m pretty sure God receives them even if it sometimes feels like they’ve been relegated to a sort of cosmic layaway bin.
When I write or draw my prayers on paper, they don’t just vanish into thin air. There is a copy right there in pen and ink. I can see the prayer and pray it again. If the prayer is about someone or something I do not want to revisit, I can tear up my paper version and know that the original landed safely in God’s hands.
Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God combines memoir with theology. Step-by step instructions introduce the practice of praying in color as a way to do intercessory prayer. »ABOUT SYBIL MACBETH
