Shining Spirit

,

Sometimes it’s better not to know.
“…let me know how fleeting my life is.”
That’s the Psalmist’s request in Psalm 39.
Really?  You need a message from God?  Do you have a mirror
at home?  Look around at that circle of friends.  That’s a lot of
gray hair…or absence of.  I had a long look at my hand the
other day.  Looks a bit like the surface of the moon.  No, I
don’t need a revelation, just some reassurance.  And I find
it in the rosebud waiting to bloom.

I used to think of myself as invincible.  Then came vulnerable.
Sometime, when I wasn’t paying attention, the second half of the
game began, and I was mature.  That’s a kind word, isn’t it?
Mature is fine, but eventually it means that you know your
urologist by his first name.  Blooming is wonderful.  To bloom
for even a brief period of time is a mystery made possible by a
Mystery.  It’s only right and natural, though, that the petals
start to curl around the edges, then fall to the ground to
nourish the roots.  How else could the rosebud bloom?
My reassurance about the garden is in all those rosebuds
waiting their turns.

The explosion of their brilliance, far surpassing what we brought
to the garden, gives me practical hope.  You know them.  They
have good minds, good hearts and good souls.  They are just
over our shoulders, waiting.  And they are going to be beautiful.

Let’s just double-down and leave them something
to work with.

I was wandering around Sweetwater Wetlands when, through an
opening in the tall reeds, I saw this little guy taking a swimming
lesson and working on his paddling skills.  He was with Mom and
siblings, about six more, but he was off by himself and quite
unconcerned about a stranger on the bank with a
camera in his hand.  Click and I had him
in my Nikon.
Later in the day, at home in front of my computer while
transferring shots from the camera, I stopped on this
photo and reached for the Delete button.  Too messy,
I thought to myself.  Cluttered.  But for a moment, I
paused and looked with different eyes, eyes not
searching for perfection, but eyes that took in a
growing charm and tenderness.
This young fella is splashing around in the warm
sunshine, learning about life on the pond,
probably unaware of what I called “clutter”,
speckled with little blooms from nearby trees.
It’s not messy for him.  It’s great!
Life is fun.  So what’s the big deal
about perfection?
A pond strewn with little flowers on a
warm Spring morning.
I should have joined him.

May gentle drops of mercy fall on the
dry places of your soul today.

May you feel the tender embrace of goodness
wherever you go.

May peace flow into the depths of your being
and then out of you into the conflicts
and confusions you will encounter.

In spite of what you see or hear, may your
recurring thought be “it is good.”

And when night comes and all is quiet,
look back over the day and be
astonished at the Presence,
unknown in the moment,
that made the journey
with you.

I’m very thankful for all the blessings we receive

from life around us.  Everything calls us to learn.

Do you remember the last time you stood in amazement

at a beautiful display of nature, or admired the gaceful

movement of a running coyote, or witnessed the rare

opportunity to watch a hummingbird feed her young?

I hope it hasn’t been that long ago.

The Spirit is in the seeing.

Is power good or bad?

I suppose it all depends how one uses it.

The engines on the space shuttle Discovery generate enormous power,
but they are not the most powerful entities known to humanity.
Neither is nuclear power, or giant power stations, or
anything else man has made.
Love outpowers everything.
It can be as volatile as dynamite,
but when applied with compassion,
it is the glue that holds things together,
the healing agent for all wounds and illnesses,
and a light that guides us through darkness.
Love is patient and kind…and it never ends.
The supply never runs out.

That’s very good news!

Interesting question since I meet so many people who are

searching for bigger plates.  “There’s so much to do!”

Not a bad idea to examine the plate you have very carefully.

Of the things on your plate for today, do they:

Nourish you?  Feed your mind with healthy nutrients?

                                          Deepen your faith?  Keep you on His pathway?

Make your neighborhood or your world better?

Give you joy?

If there is anything on the plate that doesn’t serve one of those

purposes, scrape it off into the garbage bin.

Each morning examine your plate for the day and discard

anything that doesn’t have the potential of making you a better

                                                 person and the world a better place.

You really don’t need a bigger plate, do you?

And, by the way, don’t blame the menu.

I asked God to guide my thoughts.
I designed a way to get even with my neighbor.

I prayed that God would make my words helpful and kind.
I cursed the grocery bagger for dropping my eggs.

“God, show me the path this day.”
I set my own way when profitable opportunity appeared.

I asked God to make my hands beneficial blessings for everyone.
I shook my fist at the idiot who cut in front of me in busy traffic.

I prayed for peace.
I created conflict.

I said the right words.
I prayed at my designated time.
I even got on my knees.
My hands were folded.

So, what’s the deal?

“

May I walk with integrity
wherever I go.

May I see you in all creation.

May I be a mirror of your love
to all I meet.

May I reflect the freedom of your truth
and live as a beneficial presence
in the world.

In the morning I offer myself to you
in prayer,

By night I surrender to you in trust.

O, that I might walk in the Light
with a grateful heart,
and radiate peace to the world.

verses from Psalm 101 in Psalms For Praying, Nan Merrill

Now, let me make sure I understand.
We had this wonderful, well-thought plan,
all worked out to the last detail.
We all agreed it couldn’t fail.
And now you’re saying the man’s not there?
That rock-hewn tomb is completely bare?
Do you take me for a fool?

Perhaps you partied too much last night.
You’ve imagined all this, a death-filled flight
from a rock-sealed, guarded, granite grave?
But wait, I see.  A ransom you crave.
You’ve the nerve to come here and say to me
that he’s gone, escaped, been set free.
If so, you’re the next to die.

Get out!  Search the streets and find this man!
Go spread the alarm across the land.
This Jesus, the one they call the King,
will feel the pain of this scorpion’s string!
Pray hard, my friend, that you find this Jew,
for your fate, and that of your fumbling crew,
hangs in the balance here.

But who could have rolled that stone away?
The strength required!  It was there to stay!
Perhaps this God they talk about
who, by the way, I sincerely doubt,
has power and strength to raise the dead?
Could it be true?  All that they said?
I’ll think on that awhile.

The days went by but he was not found.
For sure, no longer in the ground.
Then reports began to filter in:
he preached last night at the village inn.
He was here, then there, and all around
teaching of love.  A King with no crown.
Alive, and changing the world.

This story’s been told forever, I think.
Time goes so fast.  Just like a blink.
It seems like only yesterday
when I heard that foolish man grovel and say:
We’ve searched high and low and all around.
This Jesus is nowhere to be found.
Ah, but I know where he lives.

In the hearts of all who seek His way.

Le Reine de Paris est parti
Le monde pleure

If only tears could extinguish the
horrible yellow flames.

A sacred place of solace and celebration
for 800 years, she writhes in pain,
her walls quivering from the furnace
of heat.  Even in her agony she glows.

A jagged emptiness in the sacred tapestry
of life now exists.  A essential piece of
of the fabric has been torn away.  Saints
bow their heads in grief, angels watch in
numb silence.  Heaven mourns.

On the streets of Paris, people gather in
speechless reverence, hands raised to
the glowing night sky, a benediction of
blessing as embers disappear into the darkness.

Cendres aux cendres
La poussiere a la poussiere

But no tomb can hold her.
Easter will come.