St. Teresa of Lisieux:  “The splendor of the rose and the lily’s whiteness do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.”

I’m not a religious person; I’m working to be a spiritual one.

As Easter approaches, I think of rebirth and resurrection, two milestones of life; Easter always reminds me that we are not born once when our mother gives birth to us, but life requires us to give birth to ourselves again and again. Gabrial Garcia Marquez wrote that in one of his books.

Every time I do someone some good, I feel reborn. It’s a tonic against violence, cruelty, and chaos.

Faith is not a huge thing, not a cathedral or priest or enormous gifts and glory.

As St. Terese, an inspiration for the Army of Good, preached, spirituality is simple. It is small, not huge. So it is doing good. Small acts of kindness could transform the world if everyone looks for small ways to help others.

Ordinary life presents many opportunities for grace, compassion, and redemption. No matter how old we get, we always have the chance to grow, give, and change. We don’t need prayer books, color-stained windows, or other people’s dogma.

Maria was having lunch with a friend today. I was eating some tuna fish and crab salad, and I looked out the window and saw Zip soaking up some sun and looking through the window at me like he wanted a visit. I took a small plate of tuna fish out to him and brought a chair for me to sit.

We decided to have lunch together, my first time with a barn cat. There was something about this sweet and comfortable lunch with an animal that was both loving and spiritual. Zip seems to get it, whatever it is.

He ate slowly and gracefully, turning to me now and then to let out a soft and quiet meow.

I’ve never lunched with a cat or dog before—Zinnia came out to join us—and it was a lovely experience. Zip sat quietly and ate his tuna chunks slowly but enthusiastically while Zinnia cleaned up everything that fell to the ground.

We were both content to sit quietly and look out at the farm. So was Zinnia.

I could have stayed longer, but Zip spotted something small moving through the snow, and he went flying. He had no luck, so he returned to sit, and we finished our quiet lunch.

I thought of my friend Sue Lamberti, who had taken the plunge, re-opened her flower shop, and filled almost every inch with beautiful Easter flowers. I’m pulling for her to sell them all.

I’m thinking of Sue today. She understands the idea of rebirth. Her store is crammed with beautiful flowers, and she says they are selling.

She strikes me as brave, challenging, and determined. She isn’t looking to dominate the floral industry; she’s looking for a successful shop to spread beautiful flowers all over our town. I called her to wish her goodwill this Easter and success in buying a shop full of beautiful flowers.

She was startled, I think, but she thanked me for the call. She said she was doing well so far.

What Sue wants is is essential, yet simple. She is chasing after her bliss.

Therese’s spirituality is also simple; she gave me the idea of the “Little Way,” which became the idea behind the Army Of Good. Her love of flowers has become her work. It’s a calling, not a job.

She calls her faith the “little way” because she believed and taught that life presents enough challenges and opportunities for grace; I don’t have to be saintly and without flaws. I dont have to be a billionnaire or go to a fancy church or temple.

She teaches us that the idea of God is everywhere – in every situation and person – and life’s ordinary, simple details.

I admire people like Sue. They take chances, follow their dreams, and have clear but powerful goals. They want to be happy and spread joy.

 

I can’t think about rebirth without considering Bud, our sweet little Boston Terrier. He came from Arkansas and suffered as much as or more than any dog or cat I know about.

Zip has had an astonishing rebirth; we call him the “Little King,” and he considers himself a royal creature. He has forgiven the cruelty he suffered.

He isn’t built for cold or heat, but he loves to search for rats,  clones, and chipmunks. Once in a while, he catches one. Bud takes rejection in stride. I think he is living now in bliss.

When I looked out the window, I saw a pure Bud moment. It was too cold for him to stand too long in snow, but like Zip, he always seems to find a place of warmth and comfort.

He stands on the septic covers like a Royal Navy Captain, daring the wind to blow him down.

Rebirth is not a common goal in his dog mind.

But he did it, and it feels sacred.

I bought a box of chocolate to leave on the porch for our Amazon driver, a regular visitor to our front porch. It’s hard work, and I wanted to show him some thanks, as some of our neighbors are doing by leaving candy and cough drops out for the drivers. In a small act of greatness, I see what St. Therese means. Small acts of great kindness could change the world.

On this week of rebirth and compassion, I can’t help but think of the hungry children and their families that the Cambridge Pantry is working so hard to feed.

I can’t think of a better way to celebrate Easter than buying some Prego Spaghetti sauce or beef and chicken Ramen. That’s my religion right now.

Thursday, I get the honor of helping to fill the backpack bags of children needing food. I suspect we will all stuff their bags until they nearly burst. It’s a long weekend. You can buy them an Easter gift right here.