Just because I stopped believing in the tooth fairy
Doesn’t mean that I must stop believing in God.
Just because I can’t wrap my mind around reality,
Doesn’t mean that reality is as foggy as it seems.
Just because I can’t understand with my head,
Doesn’t mean my heart can’t know.
Just because I can’t control my world,
Doesn’t mean the world will fall apart.
I’m not the center of it all
I don’t have to hold it all together – I’m the one being held.
duh.
[photo by Jessica Lucia per cc 2.0]
Ezekiel 37: 1-3
The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; it was full of dry bones. And he led me round among them; and behold, there were very many in the valley; and lo, they were very, very dry.
And he said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?”
And I answered him, “No way!”
And he said to me, “Whatever you say.” And he walked away.
And I was left with the bones and my faithlessness.
Many days later, he returns to me and he asks again, “Can these bones live?”
And I answer him, “I wish they could.”
He sits down beside me and asks, quietly, “Where do you send those wishes? How do they find substance?”
I kick at the dirt and reply, “My wishes have no substance. They appear before me like a wisp of smoke and then they are whipped away by the wind. If I try to grasp them or shield them from the wind, my own movements make them dissipate. The bones are very, very dry.”
Do you know the difference between wishes and hope?”
I look at him blankly and shrug.
He waits a moment longer, and then he answers for me. “Wishes have no anchor. Hope is anchored by faith. It springs from desires that I have planted within you and rises to my listening ears. It is a call for us to work together to bring righteousness to life.”
I look up at him. “How can I work to bring righteousness? I am nothing but dry bones. There is no righteousness in me.”
“I bring the righteousness.” He smiles at me. “You bring the bones.”
I start to grin. “I can do that.”
So he asks me again, “Can these bones live?”
“Lets see.” I reply.
“Yes, lets do.”
4/7/00
the interesting thing about life
is that you must live it
now
you can’t save it up
or hoard it
or even spend it into debt.
it’s now … or never.
I keep trying to plan it …
but that doesn’t work.
it just won’t stand still while I get it right.
worrying doesn’t work, either.
in the end, I can only live right, right now
and only if I remember to do it
consciously
mindfully
rather than just exist
so
let’s live 2018
see the beauty of the moment
seize the glory of the day
be kind to the earth and all it holds
be present with one another’s hope and pain
be grateful –
grateful for the very goodness at the heart of it all
we are part of that goodness
let us live it
now
[photo by Sonny Abesamis per cc 2.0]
Let us make humans in our image; according to our likeness – Genesis 1:26
Richard Rohr offers a nugget of understanding:
The image is Christ in me;
The likeness is how I live it out.
I like that – that I can somehow be like.
Then, I might actually like myself.
Like, wow.
[photo Thomas Rousing by per cc 2.0]
My prayer for 2018
Is that it will be better than 2017.
Sounds like a pretty low bar.
My resolution for 2018
(and I do better with low bars)
Is that I will be part of the difference.
There is life in the chimes outside my window
As they ring their solemn joy into the dawn.
There is life in my grandmother’s rolling pin,
As it makes the pies that have fed the family celebrations across the years.
I hold that life in my hands as I shape the dough.
There is life in the rocks that we gathered to build our fireplace.
They hold whispers of that gathering
As we gather, again, around their warmth.
If chimes and rolling pins and rocks can come to life – can I?
There are some images that speak for themselves.
As soon as you try to nail them down with words,
You make them smaller.
You tighten your focus, and lose the fullness.
Analysis can be good
But sometimes grateful acceptance is even better.
[photo is my own – you many use it under cc By-NC-SA 2.0]
Again I find myself wrapped tight.
Like a fist, holding only my desperation,
My heart folded in upon itself.
My soul throws up questions
Not in open curiosity, but as a defense.
Fearful of my own foolishness,
I choose to turn away, rather than toward,
And ask for assurances before I yield to trust.
Perhaps it is the sensible thing to do.
Perhaps I can blame the world’s abuses,
As my reason to curl small
Around my own emptiness.
Oh, yeah?
You say you love me …
Prove it!
And you do.
As soon as I release myself enough to notice
A sunrise
A soft breeze
A friend’s smile
You do.
You always do.
[photo by damian entwistle per cc 2.0]
When I read these words of St John of the Cross I figured I’d met Yoda’s mentor.
To come to the pleasure you have not,
you must go by a way in which you enjoy not.
To come to the knowledge you have not,
you must go by the way in which you know not.
To come to the possession you have not,
you must go by a way in which you possess not.
To come to be what you are not,
you must go by a way in which you are not.
As Yoda would say, “Understand or understand not – there is no try.”
[image cropped from photo by Michael Li per cc 2.0]
Quiet Hope 