The Course in Miracles says that, even though we think we have ten thousand problems to solve, we have only one problem: we believe we are separate – from each other and from God.
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[/custom_frame_left]When I was a child, my dad (and mom) ran the grain elevator – a country grain elevator where we took in the farmers’ wheat every June and July at harvest time. I loved being part of harvest… the excitement as the hot Kansas wind ripened the green wheat into gold and Dad’s pace of preparation (and stress level) increased. That first day would soon come and he had to be ready for the first truck of wheat. Somehow he always was.
The number of trucks would steadily increase rolling onto the country scales to be weighed, driving into the elevator and dumping the fresh warm grain into the dump, then coming back around for an empty weight and a scale ticket. The bustle of our lives (us kids) included staying out of the way, running errands, eating sandwiches, picking the cherries back up the hill at our house (they always ripened right around harvest time). And using the outhouse. Grain Elevator in Kansas
As I grew older and had friends in the community, sometimes one of the families would invite me back to the fields with them, to ride the truck, wait for the combine to bring the wheat to fill the truck, one pass at a time, and eventually ride the truck back to the elevator. Those trips to the fields were novel and I enjoyed them. But I always had the feeling I was missing something back at the elevator.
The scale office and the elevator had a Grand-Central-Station feeling – “here’s where it’s happening!” – that I loved. I felt in the middle of things, connected, alive.
Yesterday, my day off from my prayer ministry job, it flashed across my mind that “oh, I won’t be connected today!” to all the callers.
WOW! Did I really have that thought on my day off?
Yep. And the best parallel I can make is to being in the center at the elevator at harvest time.
This week we prayed with callers in the advancing path of Hurricane Sandy, call after call. Then as the storm hit, it became quiet. The next 2-3 days we prayed with people from the West Coast and around the country asking for prayers for people who had been hit by the storm.
I felt the love of humans for each other, the awakening compassion. Sure, I know CNN featured a story about a man who refused help to a woman with two sons in the midst of the storm and I can feel that pain. But I also know of the many people who were helping each other, praying for each other. On Silent Unity’s Facebook page, following a beautiful prayer for people, animals and everything in the path of the storm (Nov. 2), there are posts from across the country and around the world, saying AMEN.
I could feel the interconnection.
Honeybee on blossomsI feel that way in my garden often, and the time I feel it most often is in mid-summer when the honeybees and other tiny beneficial insects are filling my herb garden humming and zipping all around me as I sit and watch them. Amazing – there is no other word for it! Again, it’s a Grand-Central-Station feeling and I love it. Oblivious to my presence, the honeybees, the tiny brachnid wasps, and others go about their busy lives, connecting plant to plant (pollinating), plant to insect (pollen for food) and plant to human (enhancing the plants). Interconnection.
I am blessed with being a witness to the process.
Just as in the prayer room. I am a conduit, with affirmative prayers that help each caller remember the truth of their connection to God and to each other.
If we really have only one problem – that we believe we are separate – then there must be only one answer. To remember that we are connected… interconnected.
It’s been a great week for that. I am remembering – even on my day off – that I am connected to all of Life. And I love that.
