Showing posts from August, 2018

We Are But One Thread

Tree of Life Tapestry
“We Are But One Thread”  by Rev. Linda M. Rhinehart Neas © 2018
 Chief Seattle, the great Native American medicine man, said, “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.” I love that imagery. Close your eyes for a moment…picture an awesomely beautiful tapestry, rich in color and texture. See each human, each plant, animal…all of creation as individual threads within the tapestry. 

Tapestries are weavings that often tell stories of a great event. We don’t have a tapestry here to demonstrate our interconnectedness, but, if we were to pull just one thread out of what weavers call the weft and warp, it pulls on all the other threads, taking them out of balance. If we pull on several threads, before long, our tapestry is a mess! 

This is what is happening to us today. The various injustices, disasters, and crimes seen around the w…

Lifting My Eyes

Photo Credit (c) 2018 Linda M. Rhinehart Neas

Lift up your eyes on high /And see who has created these stars, /The One who leads forth their host by number, /He calls them all by name; /Because of the greatness of His might and the strength of His power, /Not one of them is missing. Isaiah 40:26

Often when I pray, I lift my eyes up to the heavens. I don't know why - force of habit, the idea of the Creator is looking down on us, the idea that "eternity" is out there, somewhere - I really don't know.  But, I do it, regularly.

Sometimes, when I look up, something will catch my eye. Clouds fascinate me. Stars twinkle so bright, yet many are already gone, just so much space dust, by the time their light reaches us. Eagles and hawks always capture my attention as I believe they are messengers from on High.

When this happens, I chide myself for not being able to stay focused on my prayers. Then, last week as I was driving to work, trying to say my prayers, it came to me to look…

Momma and the Butterflies

Momma and butterflies have always gone together for me. Mainly, because, when she was a little girl, her mother would embroider a small yellow butterfly somewhere on the dresses that she made for her. So, when I see a yellow butterfly, I always think of Momma.

Butterflies are symbolic of metamorphosis, which isn't surprising since they begin as catepillars and grow to be beautiful winged creatures. For Momma, they meant that things would be OK, that whatever the situation, it would change for the better.

The most dramatic example of this was what she called her "hospital butterfly miracle." Momma suffered from myasthenia gravis, a neuro-muscular disease that robbed her of the function of the right side of her body. When her disease was bad, everything on the right side became paralyzed. She couldn't walk, hold things, open her eye or breathe. 

In the early stages of her disease, she would be rushed to the hospital with doctors diagnosing her condition as everything from…