Blessings Everywhere

12 Nov

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Gifts of blessing are everywhere.

A long-drawn note of the cello, softly touched.
The beautiful dove, tiny and fragile, in the
palm of my hand.
A full moon through the mountain pines.
The face in the small gold frame on my bookshelf.

May I be alert enough to see blessings and wise
enough to cherish them.

May each blessing be an enchantment for my spirit,
received with humility, returned with gratitude.

May I never become a collector of blessings catalogued,
but an astonished recipient of unexpected grace.

Watch there.  Look here.  Close your eyes and listen.
Gifts of blessing are everywhere.

You are a gift of immeasurable worth,
the blessing of a kind and generous God.

You

Sleeping and Waking

10 Nov

May the angels of deep and peaceful sleep
hover over your bed tonight.

May you fall asleep hearing the echo of
a distant song whose melody is
complete harmony and unity.

May the darkness comfort you as a friend
bearing no fear, causing no concern.

May the last word of night and the first
word of morning cause you to smile.

May your dreams be filled with beautiful
memories and hopeful wishes.

May you sleep knowing that you are loved
and wake refreshed to be love.

And when the first rays of sun fall upon your shoulders
may you feel the energy of the universe
enlivening your body and the embrace
of the Spirit affirming your
uniqueness.

Beautiful Bug?

9 Nov

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I don’t know what his name is; something elegant, I imagine.
It looks like he’s dressed for an evening on the town.
Those lacy wings, for instance.  Now there’s an amazing piece
of attire, and his color combination is striking.
The single yellow line from head to tail, little yellow
dots…perfectly spaced…on his back legs, fancy beads
on the antennae, and that clever yellow band around
the hard protector at the base of his wings.

Everything about this creature is spectacular!
So don’t overlook the little things today.
Be grateful for beauty found in the often overlooked.

Life Lesson

4 Nov

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Momma, am I a pumpkin?

Of course you are.  Why do you ask?

Well, I’m not orange like all the other pumpkins.
And the new pumpkin family that moved in down the street
pointed at me today and said: “What is that?  He’s not  a
real pumpkin.  Real pumpkins are orange.”

Sweetheart, sometimes it’s difficult to be different.  It’s
true that many pumpkins are orange, but we’re not.  That
doesn’t mean that we are less than any other pumpkins,
even orange ones.  We are special, I guess.  One of the things
you’ll learn someday is that when a pumpkin is different, like color,
size or weight, there might be others who will make fun or call names.
You have such beautiful colors; in fact, more than one, so you
are extra special.  Please don’t let others’ meanness make you sad.
Maybe they just want to be as beautiful as you.

Okay, Momma.  But I don’t like to be called names just
because I’m a different color.

(Even pumpkins feel the pain of prejudice.}

Morning Beauty

2 Nov

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Want a taste of beauty today?
Take a look.
I never knew brown could look so good!
The glistening color is liquid, running freely over a pure white surface.
Wing edges are scalloped for efficient flight,
a dash of soft red on the back and a sense of fragility and
strength at the same time.
I’m glad the Butterfly Maker thought this particular design
into being and set the golden color in just this way,
then instructed the wind to carry her to my backyard bush
and opened the eyes of my spirit
to see incredible beauty.
A+

Moving Toward The Mountain

31 Oct

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There is a rebel molecule in my body,
a stubborn little voice that says:
“Don’t sit down.  Get up!  Let’s go somewhere!”
He likes to travel, see new things, hit the road.
He keeps whispering in my ear,
“Life’s a journey, and we’re not there yet.”
He annoys me when he hums that old
Willie Nelson tune, “On The Road Again”.
But he’s right.  The metaphor of life as journey
fits who I am as a disciple of Jesus, the
man who never stood still.
My journey has been from child to elder,
from yesterday’s ways to the person I am now,
and from seeing the good creation,
not as something to use but as someone
to honor.
I don’t know how much road remains,
but I do know that I feel better when I’m
looking up, not walking through life focused on
my shoe laces.  Especially better when I
let my eyes wander over the mountains,
strong, inviting, welcoming.
The Psalmist and I have the same molecule:
“I lift my eyes to the hills.  Where does my help
come from?  From God who made heaven and earth.”

“On the road again.  Just can’t wait to get on the road again.
Makin’ music with my friends.  I just can’t wait to get on the road again.”
Come on…let’s make some music.

 

Hello, Life

30 Oct

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Around the curve, danger?  Delight?
Shadows fall on the tunneled pathway in no
particular pattern, visual confusion.  Abstract art.
Blooming plants and worrisome weeds, side by side,
pushing and shoving for space and attention.
And then there’s the bench, a little bit rough
and splintery. Decorated by passing birds
perched on the back for a moment of rest,
home for delicate spider webs tucked
artistically in corners and crevices,
sparkling strands ignited by shafts of light,
the bench is an imperfect invitation for
less than perfect people who want to
meet a friend or eat the peanut butter
sandwich in the backpack or watch
bees dance on delicate red blooms
or gratefully remember or
think about the journey
that still waits or
simply rest.
The way is wild and wonderful.
Hello, life.