So, daughter, inasmuch as it concerns you so closely to set forth on this devout journey under good guidance, do you pray most earnestly to God to supply you with a guide after His Own Heart, and never doubt but that He will grant you one who is wise and faithful, even should He send you an angel from Heaven…

The simple style of this bishop (Saint Francis de Sales) really speaks to me… This book on the devout life is a series of his letters to a married woman who earnestly desires to grow closer to God…

Ponder Jacob’s ladder:–it is a true picture of the devout life…Consider, too, who they are who trod this ladder; men with angels’ hearts, or angels with human forms. They are not youthful, but they seem to be so by reason of their vigour and spiritual activity. They have wings wherewith to fly, and attain to God in holy prayer, but they have likewise feet wherewith to tread in human paths…

Here is one of my favorite passages from Chapter 3 where the writer explains that where God is concerned, no one “falls through the cracks” if the heart is sincere and humble…

A different exercise of devotion is required of each–the noble, the artisan, the servant, the prince, the maiden and the wife; and furthermore such practice must be modified according to the strength, the calling, and the duties of each individual…

No indeed, my child, the devotion which is true hinders nothing, but on the contrary it perfects everything; and that which runs counter to the rightful vocation of any one is, you may be sure, a spurious devotion. Aristotle says that the bee sucks honey from flowers without damaging them, leaving them as whole and fresh as it found them;–but true devotion does better still, for it not only hinders no manner of vocation or duty, but, contrariwise, it adorns and beautifies all.

~♥~

St. Francis de Sales, the gentleman saint and ...

Devout LifeI have started reading this book as sort of a spiritual self-improvement course, and on the first page of the introduction, I found this lovely passage that I want to share with you… I feel already that this angelic fellow is speaking directly to my heart.  It’s a little spooky, especially when he keeps writing to someone that he refers to as “daughter”… I am very excited about what I will learn!

Almost all those who have written concerning the devout life have had chiefly in view persons who have altogether quitted the world; or at any rate they have taught a manner of devotion which would lead to such total retirement. But my object is to teach those who are living in towns, at court, in their own households, and whose calling obliges them to a social life, so far as externals are concerned. Such persons are apt to reject all attempt to lead a devout life under the plea of impossibility; imagining that like as no animal presumes to eat of the plant commonly called Palma Christi, so no one who is immersed in the tide of temporal affairs ought to presume to seek the palm of Christian piety.

And so I have shown them that, like as the mother-of-pearl lives in the sea without ever absorbing one drop of salt water; and as near the Chelidonian Isles springs of sweet water start forth in the midst of the ocean and as the firemoth hovers in the flames without burning her wings; even so a true stedfast soul may live in the world untainted by worldly breath, finding a well-spring of holy piety amid the bitter waves of society, and hovering amid the flames of earthly lusts without singeing the wings of its devout life. Of a truth this is not easy, and for that very reason I would have Christians bestow more care and energy than heretofore on the attempt, and thus it is that, while conscious of my own weakness, I endeavour by this book to afford some help to those who are undertaking this noble work with a generous heart.

~♥~

For I desire mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.  Hosea 6:6

Red red wineHe sat across the table from me, eyes damp and swollen.  I could smell the soft scent of cologne and red wine as my father studied my face sorrowfully.

He pointed towards the room upstairs where my son was seated and said, “He would not exist if I had not done this awful thing to you. He was a gift sent to help you because of what I have done. He is pure gold. He loves you so much, and you love him, and that is such a blessing for both of you.  As for me, I have been punished because when I finally found my true love, we could not have any children.  That is how I was repaid for what I did to you.”  I closed my eyes and could not find any words for reply; I knew that my father needed this moment even more than I did.

When he had finished speaking, he hugged and kissed me and I climbed the stairs to my little bedroom. My heart was a giant paperweight in my chest. Only one matter is important now: to humbly participate in this redemptive work with an open and forgiving heart.

~♥~

Sandro Botticelli, Magnificat, 1480-81, temper...

I love and enjoy the Holy Scriptures, and there are passages throughout that I have special fondness for.  I love how Peter writes that God chooses the stones that the builder rejects.  I love Hebrews 11 where the writer describes the great patriarchs of faith.  And there are several parts of the Bible which lend themselves perfectly to prayer: I love to pray the 23rd Psalm and The Lord’s Prayer.

The styles and tone of the battle king and the fishermen and the converted Pharisee are all distinctive and strong and hard-hitting, but one passage gently strums the strings of my heart because of its graceful feminine voice.  Nothing “speaks to my condition” like the Magnificat, expressions from the soul of a woman who humbly loved God. It affects me on a very personal level as a daughter of God, and I love to recite it in my prayers:

My soul doth magnify the Lord and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior, for He hath regarded the low estate of His handmaiden, for behold from henceforth shall all generations call me blessed, for He that is mighty hath done unto me great things, and Holy is His Name. 

(Luke 1:46-55)

The Way of the HeartOur society is not a community radiant with the love of Christ, but a dangerous network of domination and manipulation in which we can easily get entangled and lose our soul. The basic question is whether we ministers of Jesus Christ have not already been so deeply molded by the seductive powers of our dark world that we have become blind to our own and other people’s fatal state.

Just look for a moment at our daily routine. In general, we are very busy people. We have many meetings to attend, many visits to make, many services to lead. Our calendars are filled with appointments, our days and weeks are filled with engagements, and our years filled with plans and projects. There is seldom a period in which we do not know what to do and we move through life in such a distracted way that we do not ever take the time and rest to wonder if any of the things we think, say or do are worth thinking, saying or doing. We simply go along with the many “musts” and “oughts” that have been handed on to us. People must be motivated to come to Church, youth must be entertained, money must be raised and, above all, everyone must be happy. Moreover, we ought to be on good terms with the Church and civil authorities; we ought to be liked or at least respected by a fair majority of our parishioners; we ought to move up in the ranks according to schedule; and we ought to have enough vacation and salary to live a comfortable life. Thus we are busy people just like all other busy people, rewarded with the rewards which are rewarded to busy people.

All this is simply to suggest how horrendously secular our ministerial lives tend to be. Why is this so? The answer is quite simple. Our identity, our sense of self, is at stake. Secularity is a way of being dependent on the responses of our milieu. The secular or false self is the self which is fabricated by social compulsions. “Compulsive” is indeed the best adjective for the false self. It points to the need for ongoing and increasing affirmation.

Passage from “The Way of the Heart: Connecting with God through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence” by Henri Nouwen

Cover of "The Inner Voice of Love"

When I first read this passage in Henri Nouwen’s book The Inner Voice of Love, I felt as if the Holy Ghost was speaking directly to me and that I was seeing myself for the first time in a magnified mirror.  I suddenly realized that I have been searching for my father for most of my life; in sweethearts, friends, professors, and spiritual leaders. Perhaps some of you can identify with this battle:

 “You have to let your father and father figures go. You must stop seeing yourself through their eyes and trying to make them proud of you.

For as long as you can remember, you have been a pleaser, depending on others to give you an identity. You need not look at that only in a negative way. You wanted to give your heart to others, and you did so quickly and easily. But now you are being asked to let go of all these self-made props and trust that God is enough for you. You must stop being a pleaser and reclaim your identity as a free self.”

Excerpt from “The Inner Voice of Love:  A Journey through Anguish to Freedom” by Henri Nouwen

I found this devotional by Oswald Chambers to be really meaningful in my own life.  It is so human to cling tightly to other people, even to spiritual leaders who are just as flawed as I am.

This passage encourages me to cherish my Heavenly Father above all other relationships, because He alone will remain with me when I am facing my own Jordan’s.

Growing in Grace,

“Sister Olive”

This Experience Must Come

Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha . . . saw him no more —2 Kings 2:11-12

It is not wrong for you to depend on your “Elijah” for as long as God gives him to you. But remember that the time will come when he must leave and will no longer be your guide and your leader, because God does not intend for him to stay. Even the thought of that causes you to say, “I cannot continue without my ’Elijah.’ ” Yet God says you must continue.

Alone at Your “Jordan” (2 Kings 2:14). The Jordan River represents the type of separation where you have no fellowship with anyone else, and where no one else can take your responsibility from you. You now have to put to the test what you learned when you were with your “Elijah.” You have been to the Jordan over and over again with Elijah, but now you are facing it alone. There is no use in saying that you cannot go— the experience is here, and you must go. If you truly want to know whether or not God is the God your faith believes Him to be, then go through your “Jordan” alone.

Alone at Your “Jericho” (2 Kings 2:15). Jericho represents the place where you have seen your “Elijah” do great things. Yet when you come alone to your “Jericho,” you have a strong reluctance to take the initiative and trust in God, wanting, instead, for someone else to take it for you. But if you remain true to what you learned while with your “Elijah,” you will receive a sign, as Elisha did, that God is with you.

Alone at Your “Bethel” (2 Kings 2:23). At your “Bethel” you will find yourself at your wits’ end but at the beginning of God’s wisdom. When you come to your wits’ end and feel inclined to panic— don’t! Stand true to God and He will bring out His truth in a way that will make your life an expression of worship. Put into practice what you learned while with your “Elijah”— use his mantle and pray (see 2 Kings 2:13-14). Make a determination to trust in God, and do not even look for Elijah anymore.

This Experience Must Come | My Utmost For His Highest.

Dear Readers,

My book is finally available in print on Amazon after a long delay. My father wanted me to finish this project, so I have completed it as a tribute to him.

You can view it at this link:

Drifting into the Divine

It’s also still available on Kindle if that is better for you.

Please feel free to send me a note about your reading experience if you wish, and pray that my story will benefit someone on their own spiritual journey.

Peace & Grace,

Olive ♥

This is the village of Valldemossa where my father lived, the most beautiful place I have ever seen…

Valldemossa and Banyalbufar in two works in which I capture two different moments of the day with the typical colors of the island. In the first painting you can see in the central area the Cartuja de Valldemossa with an afternoon light that is projected onto the facade of it. The different shades of green […]

via Two landscapes of Mallorca, Spain — Artist Ruben de Luis, oil paintings and watercolours.

Just Thankful…

I want to thank those of you who have continued to drop into my site during my absence. I have not been able to write much due to family matters & health concerns, but your notes and visits have meant a great deal to me.

During the past month, I have finally been able to work on the print version of my book. My father intended to help me with it, but his time on Earth was cut short, so I have added some chapters in his memory. In a short time, the book will be available on Amazon. I will let you know when it is ready. Please pray that God will be pleased with it and that it might help someone along their spiritual journey.

Please continue to pray for me and I will do the same for you.

Peace & Grace,

Sister Olive ~♥~

The Last Dance

“No matter how close to yours another’s steps have grown, in the end there is one dance you’ll do alone.” -Jackson Browne

My birthday was yesterday, and it was my first one without my father. He would have sent me photographs or a music video, or called me from Spain for the occasion. I missed that, but I wore his scarf to remember the scent of him.

I often think of how he and my mother ushered me into this wild dance of life. He would tell me the story laughingly, of how he drove my mother to the hospital and they helped her onto a stretcher, and left him in the waiting room. She was so ready, that before they could wheel her down the hall into a room, I was suddenly born. The doctor turned the stretcher around, called for my father and showed him my fat little body squirming and crying. I was 11 pounds and 2 ounces they tell me! I have always tried not to hurt anyone and I suppose on that single occasion, I succeeded. Her labor was over just like that. I was so fat, my father said, that my forehead was folded and almost covering my eyes. I had arrived in my usual style, clumsy and overly dramatic.

When I think of my father, it saddens me that I was not there to take his hand and usher him out of this world as he had ushered me in. I didn’t know it was his time while I was dreaming about Christmas with him in Spain. He departed just after Easter on my son’s birthday.

My mother and I still talk of him. She says he was quite a dancer. I believe that he was and I like to imagine it. I can see them scooting across a wooden floor in our living room, she in a lilac dress with a thick corn silk braid flowing to her waist, and soft flat lavender shoes. He is wearing a light saffron shirt with rolled up sleeves and a hickory vest, black pants and tai chi shoes. Her swan-like arms lay across his amber elbows; one hand rests on his shoulder and strokes his espresso hair. She is soft as bread and he is spicy like cinnamon. Their eyes of blue and brown dance together like water and wood.

But the curtain begins to close, the music is fading and I can’t quite hear the song. I  barely hear soft shoes and gentle high and deep voices on the dance floor. They will always dance together within the red satin lining of my music box heart.

 

 

“In My Father’s house are many mansions.  If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you”  John 14:2

English: Hans Christian Andersen at the house ...I had this dream and posted about it in 2014, and since my father’s death it has taken on new meaning as a spiritual dream.

I woke up this morning from a very interesting dream. I was sitting in a cafe talking to an American fellow, explaining why I love Europe. I said that Europeans don’t fret about hoarding possessions and competing with their neighbors. Instead they read books and go to concerts and sip wine with friends.

Then I told him a fantastic tale. I said that my father lives in a palace facing the castle of Hans Christian Andersen, and it is just across the fjord.  I told him that my father and I visit him often at his castle for tea, and that Andersen wears a tall black hat like Abraham Lincoln.

Of course in my dream it was all true, so I was a bit disappointed to wake up. But then my mind began to ramble on this idea, that if this life is a dream, I might awaken someday in that world.

Perhaps in Heaven I shall live in My Father’s palace across from Hans Christian Andersen. Maybe we will have tea together- in a field of flowers under the moon. Then I might climb into my little golden boat with silken sails and glide across that crystal sea to visit Søren Kierkegaard and Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Corrie Ten Boom and Mother Teresa and Black Elk…and Abraham Lincoln!

Why not?  Anything wonderful could happen in a world governed by King Jesus!

~♥~

 

My father was planning to help me complete a print version of my book for Amazon before he died. Therefore in his memory, I intend to complete it in the near future. I’ve been working on the third edition which includes several revisions.

At some point, I will be either removing this entire site or perhaps just the parts that will be included my Amazon book. That would allow me to make it available to more countries around the world for free or at a reasonable price, and would also let me run promotions if my book is an Amazon exclusive.

It meant a lot to me that my father wanted me to write my story because he admired my work and wanted the truth to be told. Many people would feel differently about negative press, but I think he wanted to “come clean” in some symbolic way.

He showed tremendous character in a variety of ways. Although he was not religious, he went out of his way to send me letters and videos about religious festivals in Spain. He mailed me a lovely painted tile of Santa Catalina the patron saint of Valldemossa, which I hung by my doorway. He also sent me a beautiful set of paper neules which were hand-cut by Mallorquin nuns, and I hang them with pride during every Christmas season. He called me his little snail because I move slowly and gently through life, and he sent me a blue glass snail in a satin-lined little box. These loving and respectful gestures tenderized my heart towards him over the past several years, and changed our relationship in meaningful ways.

We communicated about recipes and cooking and sent photographs of our meals to each other, because we both loved to try new dishes. I bought an English version of his pasta cookbook, so that we could literally cook from the same page. Although he loved Mediterranean food, he missed things like cornbread and Thanksgiving turkey.

I miss his little gestures very much, and this Father’s Day will be especially painful for me. This little snail may be in her shell for awhile, but after the rains are over I may reappear as a little delicacy with a tiny fork on someone’s plate.

Please pray for me.

Peace be unto you,

~Olive~

 

Yesterday in Mallorca, a sweet lady presented this purple orchid in my name to my father. IMG_20170429_112105 On the card it says “For my Poppy with love from your delicate flower”… I am so touched by this kind gesture.

Here are a few photos of my father:

I will miss him forever and a day. Please pray for our family.

Peace and Grace,

~Olive~

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