Monday, December 31, 2012

A Happy New Year

I sent off a box full of origami hearts to the Connecticut PTSA today for the kids of Sandy Hook Elementary. I included a short note letting them know that the hearts were our way of letting them know our hearts are with them. I hope they can feel it.

That is my wish for this New Year, that we will consciously and lovingly create a world where our hearts are with each other and that each person can feel it.

As you approach 2013 please know that my heart is with you. My love is limitless and knows no boundaries or walls. This is a year when I will strive to create every moment from the love that I am. That includes every moment I spend with you or even thinking about you.

Please feel free to remind me if my Jersey side shows up from time to time. : )

Monday, December 17, 2012

A Stocking Hung by the Chimney with Care

In my family we celebrate Christmas. For me it is a time to celebrate not just the birth of Jesus and his bright light, but also the light in each heart and the returning of the physical light as well. There are many holidays this time of year and each seems to include a remembering of the light.

This year, Christmas may be less of a celebration in a small town in Connecticut. That thought has been weighing heavy on my heart. I want so much to be able to wrap my arms around the whole town and comfort them in their time of grief. I want so much, like so many others, to find a way to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again.

So I have been looking at the idea of Christmas and the people of Newtown and wondering what gift I could genuinely offer them. How could I find a way to really give them that hug that I so long to offer? How can I genuinely wrap them in the love that I feel?

I thought of two options. One is to learn to make origami hearts and to teach the children at our church and schools to make them. Together we can make many hearts and send them to Sandy Hook Elementary to make sure they know and feel the love that surrounds them, that is flowing to them from so many hearts that ache along with theirs. (If you want to make them too there are lots of instructions online. On this page is a list of different origami hearts – the easiest one is called Easy Heart,

The other thing I will do is hang an extra stocking. In the poem, T’was the Night Before Christmas, the phrase says, “The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.” I thought, what if it meant that the stockings were filled with caring? What if I can demonstrate my caring by filling the stocking with love, with all the things that will be needed for us to heal and create a society where this terrible moment won’t happen again, where we won’t have to have our hearts collectively break? In that Spirit, in the Spirit of light that is Christmas for me, I will hang an extra stocking with care this year. I will fill it with compassion, love, light, tolerance, understanding, goodwill and grace. I will add more things as I feel inspired. If I don’t have an object that represents these things I will simply write them on a piece of paper and add them to the stocking.

I will stuff that stocking with whatever is necessary for us to talk together in peace and light, for us to live together in grace, for us to love together in tolerance, for us to heal together in love, for us to honor those lights we have lost, in Newtown, in Aurora, in Wisconsin and around the world. A stocking filled with care in order to help create a world where each light is honored and revered. A world where those whose lights are dimmed by fear or anger or hatred or mental illness can again be surrounded by enough love and light to be able to find their way back to and be guided by love and to the help that they need.

So this year a stocking will indeed be hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that a world built on love soon would be there.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Three Candles

This is how I felt yesterday in relation to the shootings in Connecticut. May the light shine brightly tonight and every night.

Three Candles

Words cannot fill a heart that has drained of life.
Words cannot recreate the color in a cheek.
Words cannot open an eye that has closed.
Words cannot utter the unspeakable grief.
So I lit three candles.
I don’t know why the
re were three,
one was too lonely, and two was not enough.
So I lit three candles,
as my heart ached and my tears fell.
I poured water beneath one candle
for the healing it represents
hoping it would be felt.
So I lit three candles
trusting that somehow the light would carry
to the places that now seem so dark.
I wish I had a million candles to light tonight.
I would create a circle of light to surround our planet,
to encircle my human family,
to illuminate all the darkness.
So I lit three candles,
to create just one moment for us to all stand in the light.
A moment to see each other
and know we are not alone,
to see that our hearts beat together in our sorrow,
as they can beat together again one day in joy.
One moment for us all to stand in the light
and see that they are all our children,
that we all grieve to the core of our being
for the lights we have lost,
as we can heal together for the sake of those lights.
So I lit three candles,
My breath shallow, my cheeks damp, my heart heavy,
And I looked at those lights and I prayed.
I prayed for more lights.
I prayed for an inferno fueled by love,
A fire bright enough to be seen by the angels,
Hot enough to warm a heart cold with sorrow,
Strong enough to kindle a spark.
So I lit three candles
And I prayed.

by Lynda Allen

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

From Deepest Darkness there Came Great Light

I wrote this last year around this time. It feels like it is time to share it again. It is a gift of light for the holidays.  

I wish you light and abiding peace and love,

From deepest darkness there came great light.

It matters where the light falls

A manger is a trough from which horses and cattle are fed. Once a manger was padded with hay that a baby might rest upon it and the world be fed. Gentle hands laid him to rest upon a bed of straw and a great light from deepest darkness fell upon him.

They did not know that it matters where the light falls, that if it falls upon a heart so open, it will find there not just a home, but a mirror to reflect it back. When they looked upon him they saw the great light shining back through his heart, his smile, his touch, his words. But it matters where the light falls. For some, the reflected light from deepest darkness warmed and illuminated them and they felt great and abiding joy. For others the light was blinding, and they could not look directly at it. They feared it because they knew that to look at the sun could do great harm. They didn’t know that this son meant them no harm.

It matters where the light falls. Some saw the light from afar and knew it was a beacon that could guide them. They let the light fall upon their hearts and found it would lead them across vast expanses and bring them at last to the source of the light. And so it did. It brought them to a tiny manger from which they were fed, one small heart reflecting the light for all to see. For that is what he was from the moment he was laid in the manger, simply a reflector of the great light from deepest darkness.

It matters where the light falls. If it falls upon the doors of an inn that are closed, the light will warm and illuminate only the door, not able to enter across the threshold.

That night long ago, it fell upon a stable whose doors were swung wide and whose creatures were welcoming. That night it found an open manger, a receptive place, for the light to be laid with gentleness upon a soft bed created with love. That night the great light that sprung from deepest darkness came to rest upon the heart of a child. His heart, which was so great in one so small, welcomed the light and there was immeasurable joy.

His heart shone forth with the light. His heart was the light. His heart is each heart.

The great light from deepest darkness ever shines and ever touches all, it matters only whether it falls upon a closed door or upon a place with doors open and a manger waiting where the light can rest and feed all.

Lynda Allen