May this day smile upon you.
May your heart catch its breath.
May your eyes rest upon beauty.
May your soul know peace.
May the touch of your fingers
Warm the life of another.
May your words fall like rain
On thirsty ground.
May the love that gives you life
Expand ever outward
Moving from heart to heart to heart
Like ripples across a pond.
May you pause to receive
The gifts that come your way
Adding your touch of grace
To their endless journey.
[photo by Franciska per cc 2.0]
Heaven awaits you.
It will come at the very moment
that you are enfolded in the arms of God
with full assurance that you are,
deeply loved and treasured
for exactly who you are.
God’s arms are open now.
They ache for this embrace.
Lean in, lean in,
and enter heaven.
There is no need to wait.
5 12 15
[photo by Manu Praba per cc 2.0]
I sit wondering …
Am I too self-reflective?
I’ll ask my navel.
4 10 15
[trying my hand at senryu; photo ‘question mark graffiti‘ by Bilal Kamoon by per cc 2.0]
Moishe the Beadle, in introducing the young Elie Wiesel to the ways of mystery, insisted that, ‘every question possessed a power that was lost in the answer.’
If I follow his lead … I don’t answer this question. I let it work its power in my heart.
(Not easy, is it?)
[Wiesel, E. (1958). Night. (2006 translation by M. Wiesel) New York: Hill & Wang. p. 5] [photo adapted from ‘Rabbi Avrohom Osdoba‘ by Joe Goldberg per cc 2.0]
“Tell me again, Uncle Zach, tell me the story of the angel, when you were in the temple.” Jesus is staying over for a few days and is helping his uncle with his work.
John rolls his eyes and looks at his cousin. Not again. John is intimidated by the story. It is his father’s story, but the weight of it rests on him. ‘The spirit and power of Elijah’ the angel had said. Sometimes, in the quiet, John felt inside himself for the stirrings of this prophecy, fingering his own soul, looking for signs of Elijah or of any real power at all. Nothing. So, he hides a secret fear that he will fail the prophecy. Hearing the story only makes it worse.