God our Mother

In celebration of Mother’s Day this last Sunday, please listen to the poem, ‘God our Mother’ by Allison Woodward – at this link. It starts just after the 12:00 mark. The written version can be found here.

mother 2.jpg

It’s true, you know.
(You do know it, deep down, don’t you?)
Your first sense of a loving presence
Came before you had any words to frame the gift.
You were knit together in a womb of love,
Fully nurtured by another’s very life.

You were called to life by life,
To love by love,
Which are our best and first response.
So, even deeper than the sense of God as male,
Is the sense of love as female.
And God, you know, is love.

It is not sacrilege.
It is the true echo of God’s imprint on us all.
We are made male and female in their image.
Each of us hold that double imprint
Both masculine and feminine,
Full autonomy, fully given for another.

And so we hold the imprint of divine connection,
That gift expressed in our own gift of self,
The ever-whirling dance of all that is.
Each of us is a unique expression of God’s love,
The chance to give what no one else can give,
Ourselves.

 

[image modified from photo by Irina (Patrascu) Gheorghita per cc 2.0]

better

vining .jpg

The green of the leaf,
The heat of the sun,
The laughter that bubbles up
When good friends meet
After a long absence,

The sweet satisfaction
In a sip of cool water,
The uncomplicated giggle
Of a small, dear child,
These are evidence of you.

These are embodiment of you.
These are where, again, you create life.

Theology is good.
The pulse of life is better.
I rejoice in them both.

[photo by Mary Beth Griffo Rigby per cc by nc nd 2.0]

empty

empty.jpg

In those quiet moments
When I let myself be still,
When I release the ‘shoulds’ of my life,
When I let them drift from my hands like so many autumn leaves,
When I drop the other defenses and distractions,
When I risk acknowledging the naked me,
And I stand without excuse before the vastness of it all,

In those moments,
When it seems I will melt away to nothingness,
To uselessness,
To emptiness,
To loneliness,
And become a vacant husk,

In those moments,
If I do not turn from this discipline
To grasp at any cover or shield,
I find, to my surprise,
You have not turned away.

That was, of course, my greatest fear –
That you could not love the naked me.
And that fear,
As you predicted,
Has been cast out by love.

It is hard for you to fill that which is already full.
When I let the clutter of my life fill up my days
It is hard for you to find a place to enter.
Yet, still, you do.
No space is too small for you.

And that is,
Indeed,
A great comfort,
When my heart has grown small.

Help me clear the clutter a bit today,
So you can enter a bit more fully,
So I can notice, when you do.
That you do.

And we can smile, together.

 

[photo by Fabio Sola Penna per cc 2.0]