Shining Spirit

I am never alone when I walk down a country road.

The soft mist of the morning settles around my shoulders like an old friend’s embrace.  Trees sing to creation as only oaks and pines can do, lifting their branches to the sky,  hoping to dance with a passing breeze.  Earth glistens in colors and textures that elude canvas or camera.  I stop to listen to no sound at all, to draw in the sweet fragrance of wet leaves, golden and red carpets spread over thick green grass.   A gentle vibration swirls in the air, as if a hand has plucked the single string of perfection.

I am blessed by all that calls to me along a country road.

Wash over me, Living Water, like soft spring rains.  Nourish my dryness.  Transform my brittleness.  Make my heart supple, my spirit malleable like moist clay on the Potter’s wheel.

May I return from the dry deserts of my own making, arid days when the dust of my striving fills my mouth and distorts my vision of life around me.

Between the dust from which I came and the dust to which I will return, may I float in the river of love that carries me to your own heart.

This day you are the still water that brings me peace.  This day you are cleansing water that washes my soul.  This day I dance like a child in the showers of your kindness.

I am made new, refreshed once again, by the taste of Living Water.

I hope today I will be wise enough to sit for awhile and take in the vibrance of life around me.

I hope that I will open my arms wide so that someone might feel welcome and sit with me in wonder.

I hope that all I see and all that goes unseen will bless me along the way.

I hope that I hear the birds sing, listen to the clouds drifting by, and feel the warmth of the sun.

I hope I will imagine.

May it be so.

Every Sunday at my church we begin community worship with a verse from the Psalms .  It goes like this:  “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”  Come to think of it, that’s not a bad way to start every day.  But, as you know very well, not every day is a cartwheel-turning day.  The Lord may have made it, but something happened in the transmission.  Life happened, and on those days I want to edit the last stanza of the Psalm:  “…I will rejoice and be glad in spite of it.”  Witness the majestic sahuaro cactus whose arms are supposed to reach elegantly toward the heavens, symmetrical and consistent.  Something went wrong.  It is my monument to “in spite of”.

When things don’t go my way, may I become aware of peace in the midst of it all.

When life seems disjointed and I feel at loose ends, may I find reconnection in relationships both sacred and human.

When anxiety anchors me in darkness, may I find escape, not from but to the Presence that infuses life with hope.

In spite of everything that wants to rob me of joy, may I open the doors of my heart and find You there.

May it be so.

Even if gray clouds blot out the soft blue of the morning sky, may I discover peace in somber shapes and shades of darkness.

And if the stones along the pathway are jagged and treacherous, uneven and slippery, may I walk with mindful focus and curious attention as companions in the journey.

And if the path becomes too steep, the effort too great, may I be wise enough to pause, to rest, to welcome the beauty around me as a cool drink of refreshment.

Nothing, not gray billows, not sharp stones, not the effort of the climb, nothing will keep me this day from standing at the summit and raising my arms in gratitude.