About celia

I write because I love the windows created by words. I write as a way to think, to share, to connect. I write to test ideas and to clear my mind. I write in response to the small "i am" that echoes the greater "I AM."

A question for the struggle

together under the umbrella.jpg

Whom does God love more
The mistaken, but earnest, heretic
Or the proudly intolerant orthodox?
Answer: both.
God loves us both, infinitely.

That is the place we must start.
That is the place I must start.
In God’s love.
In love with God.
In love (with God’s love) with you.

We may build walls with rules
Or circle our wagons in self-protection
But the rain falls on us all:
The just and the unjust,
The correct and the befuddled.

So, we must find a way
To live our best lives
In a world that contains us both.
Try as I might, I will not change you,
Nor you change me, with arguments.

Yet, I know I will change with time.
I know because I have changed, already, many times.
You will change too.
And when we lean into love,
The change is for the better.

The father waits for the prodigal,
Even if the big brother does not.
Even if the big brother was secretly glad the prodigal left.
Even if the big brother left the father, too
And just didn’t know it.

And the father wants us to party together,
When the prodigal makes it home,
When the big brother hears the music,
And wonders why it is not for him.
It is, really, for neither, alone.

The party is for reunion.

I have faith, I have hope, that love will win.
I just wish it would happen sooner rather than later.
I dare to think that is God’s hope, too.
That we would both come to ourselves
And come to the party.

Soon.

[Image modified from photo by Markus Goller per cc 2.0]

what I am not

measuring up.jpg

I am not Carrie Newcomer
I am not Rumi or Hafiz
I am not a brilliant prophet or great philanthropist
I am not even a good little girl
At least, not any more,
Not even on the surface.

So, what am I?

I am yours.
(and here a wry smile crosses my face)
I guess you are stuck with that …
With me.

But you are not stuck
And neither am I.
(and here a sweet chuckle rumbles your chest)
We are not stuck.
Deep within your embrace, there is movement.

Here, after your kiss
Exploded in the big bang;
Here, after your brooding spirit
Formed this blue marble in your hand;
Here, after my daddy’s eye’s twinkled
And my mom sighed;
Here you are: calling, calling me to be in you.

Not just me, of course,
You call us all.
Rock and tree
Sky and sea,
Even dark matter thrums in response.
And, somehow I know, we are coming.

We are all coming,
Every one.
In the end, love will win.
Love will melt the stubborn resistance
Of me, me, me.
Melt it into the quiet insistence
Of we, we, we.

The call … is irresistible.

Thank God.

[photo by Irish Typepad per cc 2.0]

 

defiant joy

irrepressible.jpg

Is it possible
To hold within your heart
A nugget of defiant joy?

It is.

To deeply know
God’s deepest love
For all the deepest parts of you.

To hold to love
Despite the angry shouts
And sadly shaking heads.

To welcome God’s love
So fully, so truly
That it spills out to others.

Even – though they cannot see it,
And don’t know how to receive it,
To those with sadly shaking heads.

That is the miracle of grace.
That we can offer love to one
Who cannot love us in return.

Father, forgive them,
For they do not know
What they are doing.

Let me be a conduit of grace
Let it flow to me and through me
To all creation.

It is. (amazing) It is.

[photo by Michelle Robinson per cc 2.0]

the chrysalis has broken

emerging from the chrysalis.jpg

Today

May you trust the dawn,
Which I am bringing.

May your heart find a way
To hold both sorrow and hope.

May your ears listen, in quiet solidarity,
To the grief of cruel rejection.

And know that such a time as this,
Is meant for change, for growth.

The chrysalis has broken open.
Do not fear its breaking.

I have not abandoned you.
Nor have I forsaken my deep love for all.

Rest within my arms for just a moment.
Do not turn too quickly from the grief.

Let me rock you softly as your tears fall.
May you know, deeply know, that love prevails.

Already, I love you.
I always have.

You are a mystery, born of love.
And your wings will soon unfold into that truth.

You are emerging from the chrysalis that held you.
Its constraints no longer serve.

But it will take some time for the sun to dry your wings.
And the breeze of freedom to lift you for flight.

You can trust my love to win, again and always.
It is less about resistance and more about release.

My ways are not your ways.
They are strong and sure.

Love will prevail, not through plots and strategies,
But, as love always does, in loving.

In the meantime, may your heart hold on to me,
As I hold you.

[photo by Dagmar Collins per cc 2.0]

a bigger faith

faith.jpg

I need a faith that is bigger
Than my humble hopes and paltry prayers
A faith big enough to touch the wire cages
That hold the refugees I am afraid to recognize
As my siblings and my friends.

I need a faith big enough to offer hope.

And I need hope that is big enough
To draw me from my couch,
Not in guilt or anger, but in energetic love.
Ready to work within the unfolding,
Sure of the partnership of the One who holds us all.

I need a hope sure enough to evoke joy.

I need a surge of joyful surrender,
Rolling down the grassy slope into your lap.
Knowing that your embrace awaits –
An embrace that does not close around me
But opens me up to more and more.

I need the energy of your bracing love.

I need that breath of life that comes
When the emptiness is filled with You.
When darkness shines
And the hollows hold abundance.
When, at last, I know that love is real and all.

I need to know that faith and hope and love remain.

I need to know, to deeply know,
That you have not turned away from me
Or from this world of your creation;
That you can redeem even these moments of pain,
Within the whole of your infolding love.

[photo by Giampaolo Squarcina per cc 2.0]

brave hope

sunrise.jpg

Does the morning bring hope,
Or is it hope that brings the morning?

When my heart is dark,
And the world seems set upon its own destruction,
I focus my eyes on the horizon
And hope for hope to dawn.

I cannot seem to conjure hope
Any more than I can conjure the sunrise
Or the appearance of daffodils in spring
And yet – Ah! Look! – they come!

Hope and the dawn
Come, hand in hand,
Striding up the hill of morning
Throwing off the darkness with a smile.

Awake, my heart!
Wake to that cool, sweet rush of grace.
Do not resist the morning.
Do not let fear of disappointment rob this gift.

Let me greet the dawn with a brave, determined smile.
Let me gratefully receive this gift,
Rising strong – yes, strong – within me.
I will not turn aside from hope.

[photo by Dennis Yang per cc 2.0]