Praise to the Lord
whose specialty is
a lame man’s legs,
and a basket lunch.
I think I can find hope
in such a One.
The Holy One has need of nothing,
Not even me.
(No great surprise to anyone but me.)
Yet . . . the Holy One desires my love.
It isn’t needed.
It adds nothing to that Holy fullness.
Yet, She yearns for my gift of love.
And when I give it,
And sometimes I do,
I am more.
This dance always seems so unfamiliar
until the very end,
when I know
that I have danced it always.
Each breath draws in.
Each breath empties out.
The quiet deepens.
I release my fluttering thoughts into the void.
I refuse to ride my thoughts away.
I let them go, without me
And am surprised to see that I remain.
They do not hold the deepest me.
I do not know why that is a surprise
But I smile as I snuggle down into your lap.
I rest my heart upon your whisper
And turn my cheek to your caress.
Your lullaby is a wordless melody
Sung in the quiet forever
Only audible in stillness
But ever there.
I rouse myself enough to wonder
If my bliss seems boring to the more adventurous souls.
You croon and hold me close
And my heart beats with excitement.
This quiet moment is, indeed, but foreplay …
[the photo is my own]
Your lullaby is the secret melody of my soul
Singing me through the night
And into the arms of God.
Your whispered prayers,
The ladders to heaven
Where angels come close enough to touch.
A mirror of my very self
Framed in love – reflecting only beauty.
A ready haven, melting hurt
Into a puddle of love.
For these gifts of intentional mothering,
I am so very grateful –
They gird my soul with grace.
Lift my heart from fog
Lift my life from shadows
And touch me with your sun.
You lift me and I am glad.
You hold me and my heart rejoices.
You kiss my head and peace anoints my soul
Your holy gift,
My joy at receiving,
These complete for just a moment
A full circle of grace.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.
– Joseph Brackett (sung by Jewel)
I walk the distance in my soul
The distance from distracted to quiet
The distance from scattered to whole
The distance from me to you.
Too often I forget that you are there
That you already surround and embrace me
That turning, turning,
Places me in your arms, in your quiet
In your delight – and in mine.
Bring me to that turning
Help me touch the quiet
Help me to embrace your simple gifts
Of love and delight
Of connection and deep peace.
I quiet my soul
I turn and lean in just the tiniest bit
And find I am resting my head upon your chest
And feel you wrap your holy spirit ’round me
This … this is home.