Her greatest wish
Was that her touch
Would leave the fingerprints
She got her wish.
Ruth Williamson – Jan 21, 1923 – August 8, 2002
Fifteen years later, her touch remains.
My greatest wish is that my words will echo the whisper of the Holy One.
What is your greatest wish?
What do you see … the grass or the light?
And how do you see the grass without the light?
Or the light without the grass?
[photo by Jean-Marc Linder per cc 2.0]
The missing puzzle piece,
The skip in the record,
The broken thread,
My part is small
But if it is neglected
It can impact the whole.
[photo by Jenn Vargas per cc 2.0]
Wonder in her fingers,
Curiosity on her tongue,
She explores the world
With eager eyes
And lifts the veil of years from mine.
The world, made new,
With the touch of a tiny hand.
[photo is my own]
One of the realities of summer
One day it is a blossom
The next a fingerling
The next, almost too big.
Ask me if I’m growing squash
And I’ll likely say yes.
But, really, it grows on its own.
My part is minimal.
The rest is miracle.
Sun, water, dirt, seed –
Become an edible delight.
I can barely keep up.
I am grateful for these quiet miracles.
And the fact they don’t depend on me.
[photo by Joan per cc 2.0]
A list of things that will pass:
- The soft sighs of a sleeping child
- Spring’s cool mornings
- Flowers that wake after a rain
- The ache of yesterday’s exercise
- The strength of my resolve
- The urgent demands of this day
- The current political mess
- The opportunity on my doorstep
- This, this, this, too.
A list of things that will not change:
- God’s love in all of this
At last, I can breathe again. Nothing is too precious or too painful to be outside the realm of the embrace of love. I am grateful.
[photo is my own … already she has changed]
[Thanks to Brene Brown for her work on foreboding joy.]
Any new beginning holds the seeds
Of a tiny resurrection.
Any turning of the corner
Or of the clock
Brings an end
And a beginning.
We mark the big moments:
A birth, a graduation, a retirement, a death.
But it is often the small moments
That mark our souls:
The warm greeting in the eyes of a friend,
The warm hug that follows,
The knowledge that they still hold you
Even when you are away.
My life is marked most deeply
By these small moments of resurrection,
And I am ever grateful.
[photo by Benoît Mars per cc 2.0]
[My thanks to Richard Rohr, who suggests that resurrection is not a one-time thing, but the revelation of the pattern of the universe – that ‘reality is always moving toward resurrection.’]