Thursday, February 11, 2016


“You know, five minutes after you leave she won’t remember you were here.”
I’ve heard it said.  I’ve even said it myself.  But I have been blessed with an intrinsic belief that it doesn’t matter if she remembers -- I will.

In all my interactions I become part of what I call the sacred triangle.  I am not by any definition of the term a mathematician, so I am not talking (I don’t think) about the Sacred Triangle that requires excessively deep thinking in the Geometry department. There are many kinds of sacred triangles: mathematical and philosophical. And there are religious triangles: the Holy Trinity or Godhead, the shape of our steeples, our hands pressed in prayer.  But this “relationships triangle” is pretty simple.

Two points of this sacred triangle are constant – they don’t ever change.  The third is a variable.   
The two constants?
One is God. And one is me. 
The variable is the person with whom I interact.
My presence with another human, whether or not I am engaged and consciously present, automatically invokes the sacred triangle. I’m not sure if the Divine Maker himself is actually there, or whether He sends a representative angel, or some heavenly filmmaker whose assignment is to make a movie of my life, to be shown in the final seconds before my flight back Home.  I am, nonetheless, confident there is a divine force at the tip of that triangle. And it radiates and connects to me and the others with whom I share time, energy, and space. My husband – my children --  my friends – even the clerk in the grocery store… all of these are points on a collection of sacred triangles.
Yesterday my sister and I drove 350 miles through thick February fog to Blackfoot, Idaho to visit our 95 year old Aunt Mae, knowing when we got back in the car to drive home, she would likely have forgotten we were just there. It didn’t matter.  We knew we were there.  And so did God.

Our interactions with each other change us, whether or not we realize it.. Certainly it was our love for our aunt that compelled us to drop everything and go, just like we had done last week and the week before.  But we could have logically convinced ourselves that since she wouldn’t remember, why do it?

We went, in the long run, not as much to make a statement to our beloved aunt, but to make a statement to ourselves, and our God, concerning our aunt. It’s the same reason we visit our mother’s grave. Not so we can connect with our mom.  We know she is not there.  We go to make a statement to ourselves, and our Lord, about our mother.

So here’s my hope for the ones I love: That we remember the divine nature of our earthly relationships…with all humans…with all creatures. That we recognize our relationships involve energy exchanges, for good and for bad. And that simply showing up is the first whisper of love we give to each other, to ourselves, and to our God.
During the season of Lent I make the personal commitment to write every day.  I’ve done this for the past eight years, as a token of devotion and thanks to the Lord for giving me a brain that works (usually). I publish these writings here on my blog, unedited and splattered like wet paint, as a way to share them and to keep them for myself and for my posterity.  This year I have decided to ruminate on thoughts, ideas, habits and miscellaneous personal practices I would like to put in a figurative HOPE CHEST to take with me into the rest of my life and the life beyond. Besides that, there are bits of advice I would like to tuck into the HOPE CHESTS of my kids and grandkids.


  1. Thanks for being my life-long companion for these events. So glad we went.

  2. SO, SO true. Thanks for giving me a new perspective. I love you and your words.

  3. Ma, you've taught us well to cherish people! We, your kids, have all kinds of quirks and weaknesses, and we are 4 somewhat distinct and different people, but I think all of us feel very deeply how sacred and beautiful human connection is...we learned it from our mother.

  4. Thank you Cori. I went and visited my Papa last night. It was the first time, even after several attempts, that he truly did not remember me. It broke my heart for him. He's so lonely and he can't remember the love we have for him, because within minutes, he forgets we were there. I sadly thought, should I even be visiting him? He was kind of frustrated with our conversation. Thank you for reminding me that it does matter. I'm showing my gratitude to God for blessing me with such an amazing man in my life by visiting. And I still love his presence. Even if he doesn't remember mine

  5. I love that you can put into words what my heart feels. I love our triangles we share. I love you.