Tag Archive for: Selah Community

Lent Day 30. A Conversation with My Lord.

We welcome Selah Companion Cindy Waple to the Here & Now writing team with her poem, “A Conversation with My Lord.” Welcome, Cindy. — D.B. Editor

Lent Day 26. Why Do You Weep?

“Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?” asks Jesus in John 20:11-15. Today Beth Griffith writes an imaginative response from Mary’s POV. This is the 27th day of Lent.

In Memoriam.

In Memoriam. We remember Steve McPhail, who passed last week. And, a poem entitled “For Collective Grief.”–Debora Buerk, Editor

Lent Day 23. Pneuma.

Lent Day 23. As we remember Steve McPhail, Chris Ball shares one of his indescribable poems.

Lent Day 21. Truth.

Lent Day 21. Take an imaginary walk with Selah Companion Debbie Tripp, through her poem “Truth.” And we offer an Irish Blessing in honor of the day.–D.B. editor

Lent Day 19. Dusty Road.

“For Lent,” writes Mary Pandiani, “I’m on a journey to become more acquainted with Jesus. Someone I’ve grown up with all my life, yet I’m often blind to how Jesus shows up as a human with whom I can relate.” See how Mary recalls a memory to help her on her quest. Enjoy reading the blog for Lent Day 19.

Lent Day 18. It’s OK.

Lent Day 18. In her latest writing, Sandy Shipman shares how God is with her–with us–even when we are troubled and hurt. Thank you, Sandy, for these words of encouragement.–D.B.

Lent Day 8. Life is Trigonometry. Ugh.

Lent Day 8. Today Selah Companion Sandy Shipman shares a memoir about high school math class–trigonometry– and reflects on it throughout her life.

Lent Day 7. Lent (Noun).

Lent Day 7. Today Here & Now editor, Debora Ragland Buerk shares and essay on the history of Lent and what Lent means to her.

Climb Up to the Light

Today, Selah Companion Beth Griffith gifts us with one of her poems, “Climb Up to the Light” and illustrates it with her photography. Enjoy.

Fleeting Injurious Gratitude

CHRISTOPHER A. BALL
Selah Community

fleeting injurious gratitude
when the throbbing surge of cracking bones 
or torn tendons
inhibits your way in the world
from what you can see
or where you can be 
not only does our day slow down
but our awareness of joy
in little ordinary parts of our day
can be held in remembrance 
and with appreciation
until we heal up
and then we move on 
forgetting the gifts
and expecting our wants
with endless disappointment
and constant angst


Don’t Miss These (Free) Events

Listening into Lent 

A Quiet Day of Preparation for the Season


THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2023, 9:00 AM – 2:00 PM ON ZOOM FREE

Lent means “Spring” and, at the same time, was intended to draw our attention to forty days in the desert. Leaning into these contrasting images, may Lent be a season for (re)awakening for us. Whether it is found in anticipation of the budding life of spring or exposure to the wide open and barren spaces of the desert, let us intentionally approach this season with a quiet space and prayerful hearts in anticipation of new awakenings.

Let us take this day to sit before the Holy One in quietness and rest. Whether in centering prayer or journaling or any combination of spiritual practices, the time spent with God is intended to center our hearts for the season.

Click the RSVP button to register to receive the zoom link.


Here & Now Lent Series 2023

February 22 – April 9 

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Join us as we take a contemplative journey through Lent and Easter through a special edition of the Here & Now blog. Receive a daily blog post beginning February 22, Ash Wednesday through Easter, April 9. Members of the Selah Community write the Here & Now blog in an invitation to PAUSE, ENCOUNTER the Spirit through contemplative practices, and GROW TOGETHER toward wholeness and loving others. 

From the writers of the Here & Now blog.

Sign up to receive this special edition of the Here & Now blog.


Five Creams and Five Sugars

By Zoanna Pearson
Selah Companion

He babbled to himself.  No teeth, dirty clothing, unshaven, cradling two small duffle bags to his chest.  Sitting on a bench inside the grocery store, air-conditioned comfort on a 90-degree day.

My peripheral vision caught him, and we made eye contact for an instant.  “Ma’am, some money?”

I quickly shifted my eyes to the doorway, parking lot, and safety.  In my car, the haunting eyes were watery, weary, confused, and ashamed.

Yet buried deep in his soul, a spark of dignity.

Sitting in my car, I heard the words, “You go to Africa, you are going to China, yet you walk by a soul in your own town?”

I began to line up my excuses.  I’m in a hurry; my husband is waiting, and I don’t have time. Is it safe?  He is probably a druggie.

“There is no excuse…go back.”

And so I returned, walking up to him, I said, “I’m sorry I walked by you. Will you forgive me?”  

Ignoring my feeble apology, he said, “I just need some money for food, Ma’am,” not speaking of forgiveness.

“May I take you to breakfast, sir?” 

“I’d like that, he replied.”

And that is how we ended up at the fast food restaurant across the street; me, an elderly white woman, and he, a well-used black man somewhere shy of 65 years old.

Walking up to the counter to place our order, we were met with an icy stare and a visible backing off as if to put distance between the clean and the unclean.

By this time, I knew the Roamer’s name was Ricky; an interesting coincidence that my son-in-law, who died at 63, was also named Ricky.

“Order what you’d like, Ricky,” and he did; a sausage, egg & cheese biscuit, hash browns, and a large coffee with five creams and five sugars.

After taking our orders, the employee leaned over the counter and, in a stage whisper, said, “Would you mind if I put this in a to-go box? We don’t like ‘his kind’ in the restaurant.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do mind. Ricky is my guest, and we will be dining together. Please add a $5.00 gift card to the order.”

Shocked? Yes.  Until I remembered my reaction was no different when I walked by him in the grocery store, the chasm deep protecting the distance between us.

Waiting for the order, I asked him how he happened to be homeless.  He told me sadly that his wife died two years ago, and his world fell apart.  Truth?  Who knows?  It doesn’t matter.

“Feed my lambs.”

Ricky didn’t eat his breakfast; putting the gift card in a worn wallet, he neatly wrapped his breakfast in a napkin and put it in his duffle.  He said he might be hungrier later.

But that is not the end of the story. 

 Sometimes serving has more to do with the attitude of the heart than with a specific task.  

Zoe Pearson, the Learner

I drove home feeling both profoundly sad and warmly satisfied.  When I opened my front door, my husband called out, “Just in time, I am taking the quiches out of the oven right now.”  I had forgotten that he said he would bake a couple of small quiches while I went to the store, and we’d have breakfast together.

“Oh, Chuck, I’ve already eaten. I forgot.”   

“What?”

And then I told him the story of Ricky, the Wanderer, and the five creams and five sugars.

Never a scowl, never a hint of retribution or anger. “You did the right thing, Zoe,”  my husband said.  “You listened to what God was asking you to do.”

That day I learned that sometimes serving is about making it easy for others to act on God’s voice.

Zoe Pearson, the Learner

About Here & Now

An Invitation to Pause, Encounter & Grow Together.

Here & Now is published by Selah Center weekly. We invite you to subscribe to this blog if you enjoy this post. You’ll receive a notification by email each time a new post occurs.

Here & Now welcomes new writers–contact the Editor, Debora Buerk, at deborabuerk@icloud.com.