The Fruitful Life: The Matter of Vulnerability, Gratitude, and Care.   We want our lives to be meaningful and to have purpose. We also desire to have some impact for good on others and on our world. We want our lives to be fruitful. Fruitfulness, however, is very differently understood by different people.

    Some see a life given to social activism and to caring for the poor as a fruitful life. Some see life given to prayer as a fruitful life. Some see it in terms of healing. Others see it in terms of a successful and important secular career. Some see it in terms of virtue, others in terms of productivity. It is clear that we will measure fruitfulness differently, depending on the values we hold.

    Henri Nouwen (In the House of the Lord p.40) probes beyond these differences to ask the question; What constitutes the fruitful life? Surprisingly, he tells us that the "three aspects of the fruitful life [are] vulnerability, gratitude and care." We would most likely have expected him to say something quite different.

    We often think of the fruitful life as springing from strength, power, and overflow. But we soon learn that we often have more to give when we are open, vulnerable, and aware of our own limitations.

    Fruitfulness, moreover, is enhanced when our lives are characterized by thankfulness, appreciation, and gratitude. This allows us to appropriate the good that comes our way. So much of what could nurture us is carelessly thrown away because we don't appreciate and appropriate the many little blessings we receive. Instead, we are often unthankful; we grumble and are so focused on future expectations that we don't see the daily good that so unexpectedly comes our way.

    Finally, fruitfulness is sustained by care. We need to watch over the seeds of hope. We need to care for what we are and have. We need to channel our resources. We cannot be haphazard or wasteful or slothful and expect to be fruitful. The nourishing sources of life need to be constantly tapped, least we find ourselves in a position where much is expected of us while we have little to give.

Colossians 1:9-10 "We have not stopped praying for you since we first heard about you. We ask God to give you complete knowledge of His will and to give you spiritual wisdom and understanding. Then the way you live will always honour and please the Lord, and your lives will produce every kind of good fruit. All the while, you will grow as you learn to know God better and better." [NLT]

[Extract from 'Dare To Journey with Henri Nouwen' by Charles Ringma, Pinion Press 2000 ISBN 1-57683-226-0]

Appreciation: Having Eyes to See What We Have Been Given.    The gentle touch of a friend. The surprise birthday party. An exhilarating bush walk. A wonderful meal. A quiet walk along the sea shore. A stimulating conversation. The sheer audacity of autumn colours. A mother's care. A good book on a wet day. A mellow sunset. A lover's passion. A moment of solitude. An inspiration. Appropriate timing in doing good. A sense of God's presence. Mad hilarity with friends. A stimulating project. Receiving an unexpected gift. Worship. Play. Prayer. Silence. Work. Love. Peace. Friendship. Family.

    As we allow our minds to wander over the many facets of our lives, and not just in the past year, we cannot but be amazed. Here and there are the marks of love, the signs of goodness, the blessings undeserved. Henry Nouwen gently reminds us that "every time we experience real goodness or gentleness we know it is a gift." ['In the House of the Lord' p.43] He is right!

    But we need eyes to see and a heart to appreciate what has been given to us. We can rush past. We can be so bent on wanting more through comparing ourselves with others that we fail to enjoy the good that has already been placed in our hands.

    Appreciation cannot be an occasional after-thought. It is a way of life in which the present is celebrated and the giver thanked, where we live with a sense of amazement that so much has been placed into such undeserving hands.

'Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen' Charles Ringma, Pinion Press, 2000, reflection #85]