Today’s reflection begins with a memory of walking into the Third Haven Quaker Meeting House in Easton, Maryland one summer day as a tourist. When I entered the building, one of the oldest surviving church buildings in the United States (built 1684), something strange happened. I felt as if I’d been there before. Three years
So beautiful. Thank you. I come from a long line of Mennonites who emigrated from Switzerland many generations ago. The first time I visited Switzerland as a teenager, I was awash with the feeling you described from walking into the meeting house. For me, it was a feeling of true belonging and connection. I appreciate your writings so much.
Diana, I have to tell you that I used the first few lines of Eliot's poem to open the annual newsletter last December ... at the end of a year that saw my husband and I relocate back to the city where we met and were married and left over 30 years ago. Not only did we come back to our starting point, the house we ended up buying was on the opposite side of the very same park from where we had kissed for the first time. Neither he nor I were born here ... nor do our families have any kind of real roots in this place. Yet it calls us back all the same.
I often feel connected in old churches. When I think of all the hymns that were sung and the prayers that were offered to the same God I worship today a feeling of kinship washes over me.
“Not known because not looked for” in the T. S. Eliot poem is so instructive, and applicable all day long. Thank you for the reminder to be looking with intention.
Love Love your sharing this morning. I connect in so many ways. I have often felt connected to land and felt the many centuries of who came before us. It is good to be reminded we live on Holy Ground.
Every so often, wherever I might be, I pause and feel the past presence of others where I am. I feel connected to their common humaness, their longings, their endeavors, their struggles. They are just like me, and, for a moment, I am there with them.
Thank you, Diana, for the sacred work you are doing … on the ground that the page can be. Thank you for sharing this memory. For the work of transformation afoot. In our time. Ongoingly.
So beautiful. Thank you. I come from a long line of Mennonites who emigrated from Switzerland many generations ago. The first time I visited Switzerland as a teenager, I was awash with the feeling you described from walking into the meeting house. For me, it was a feeling of true belonging and connection. I appreciate your writings so much.
One little thing more we have in common, Quaker ancestry. I continue as a f/Friend. (West Hills Friends in Portland OR)
The time I've felt that most strongly was in the courtyard of an aged Buddhist temple in China. The energy was palpable. (I'm Presbyterian USA Anglo.)
Diana, I have to tell you that I used the first few lines of Eliot's poem to open the annual newsletter last December ... at the end of a year that saw my husband and I relocate back to the city where we met and were married and left over 30 years ago. Not only did we come back to our starting point, the house we ended up buying was on the opposite side of the very same park from where we had kissed for the first time. Neither he nor I were born here ... nor do our families have any kind of real roots in this place. Yet it calls us back all the same.
I often feel connected in old churches. When I think of all the hymns that were sung and the prayers that were offered to the same God I worship today a feeling of kinship washes over me.
“Not known because not looked for” in the T. S. Eliot poem is so instructive, and applicable all day long. Thank you for the reminder to be looking with intention.
Love Love your sharing this morning. I connect in so many ways. I have often felt connected to land and felt the many centuries of who came before us. It is good to be reminded we live on Holy Ground.
Every so often, wherever I might be, I pause and feel the past presence of others where I am. I feel connected to their common humaness, their longings, their endeavors, their struggles. They are just like me, and, for a moment, I am there with them.
Thank you, Diana, for the sacred work you are doing … on the ground that the page can be. Thank you for sharing this memory. For the work of transformation afoot. In our time. Ongoingly.