Archive | March, 2019

My Wounded Friend

31 Mar

My friend has a broken spine.
It has a lot to do with age.
It’s like her life is now in two sections,
everything before page 192 and
everything that follows,
all the way to 311.
While her wound is obvious,
she still welcomes me with sound advice
and special wisdom.

It is good to give thanks to You, O Beloved,
to sing praises to your Holy Name.

She knows how to help me move
into the new day.

It is good to affirm your steadfast love
in the morning…to the music of the spheres,

to the melody of the universe.

Sometimes when I am down or disillusioned,
she reminds me to be hopeful.

Though darkness covers most of the land
and violence seems to flourish,
Love gives birth to dazzling light, and,
like a laser, it shines through all that
is hidden.

When I sit with her, our of her brokenness,
she speaks amazing wisdom,
true for her day and true for mine.

Those who live with integrity are like
a garden in full bloom,

whose blossoms beautify the earth,
their produce nourishes all who

pass by.

I offered to take her to a spine
specialist, but she refused.
“I want you to see past my brokenness
and always remember that
the broken can be
the blessing.”

She has a special place on my
bookshelf.  She is my friend.

 

(Highlighted words from Nan Merrill,
“Psalms For Praying”)

28 Mar

May I have the courage to make the journey today, the strength to see it through, the wisdom of those who dreamed Discovery into being, and a determined reliance on The Presence who set all the stars in place and calls me to the adventure.

Blue Flower

25 Mar

Does it matter that one blue flower lives on the edge of the pathway that disappears into the shadowy woods?

Does it make any difference?

Song Of The Earth

22 Mar

Far from the path that crosses the woods,

away from sounds of laughter and play,

in a place where no boot has scattered brown leaves

and the soft snow of winter rests low on the branch,

pine trees sing in an October breeze,

harmony unmatched in concert or choir.

 

 

The earth, moist and fertile, pulses in time

with a melody formed by crackling leaves

as a deer and her fawn move cautiously near

the edge of an ice-crusted, shimmering pond.

Paint on canvas could never portray what the

eye and the heart witness that day.

 

 

High in the top of a snow dappled pine,

on a limb that stretches to touch the clear sky,

the voice of a bluebird announces the birth

of a song that will dance with the moon and the stars

on its way to a galaxy hanging in space,

the gift of the forest and the rich, living earth.

Creating Life

21 Mar

I am shaped and formed by the potter’s hand

as a container to hold life. It is my choice, granted

in love, about what kind of life will fill this simple

creation. Each day I choose, from each encounter I

choose, from my work, my decisions, my failures and

my accomplishments I choose. May the strength of courage,

the gracefulness of hope and the amazing diversity of life

display my gratitude to the potter who offers opportunity

and the freedom to create.

Name Them One By One

17 Mar

Early morning, before the sun wakes, sitting at the kitchen table with hot coffee and a dear friend, talking and laughing, remembering. A blessing.

Receiving the hospitality of a neighbor, warm and genuine welcome, vanilla ice cream over apple crisp, conversation that deepens friendship. A blessing.

Warm bed in a cold night, comfort and security, peaceful rest, renewal. A blessing.

Count your many blessings.

Name the times when the Mystery touched your life this day. Name them and be glad.

The Ocean’s Edge

15 Mar

When the last prayer is said and the mourners go home,
carry me down to the ocean’s edge
that I might hear the rollicking surf
and sing one last song with the circling gulls.
Set me down on moist sand strewn with
seaweed and shells, near the place where
tidepools reflect the moon’s glow.
There I will welcome vibrant new life
borne in the froth of the incoming tide.
Be poised and ready for the sight of a star
streaming across the western sky,
then cast me high in the favoring wind
toward the tail of the comet
splitting the night.
And I will grasp the ephemeral,
streaking light and be off
on a grand and glorious
ride toward the gentle
beat of creation’s
heart.