whispers in my ear

sweet grasp
My dear little one,
Here is the eternal truth:
You were born of love; into love; for love.

From the start,
Our love flowed around you,
Holding you, cuddling you.

And as you grow into awareness,
As you begin to see and know,
Your laughter becomes our joy.

We watch you explore creation,
To make your own creations within it,
And we delight in your delight.

When you return our love,
When you smile at our smiles,
The day is full.

This exchange seems so deeply right.
It whispers of the love of God
That keeps creation dancing.

[sometimes truth comes in small moments – photo is my own]

beauty’s call

mountain scene
Beauty is not skin deep
It calls to deep.

Layer upon layer upon layer
Creating fractals of pleasure
That play, one upon the other.
It expands far into the distance
Even as it brushes my cheek
With life-giving moisture.

When I stop to notice beauty,
It breaks my soul open.
When I train my eyes to see it
My heart cannot help but follow.
And here is the secret:
Beauty is everywhere.

Look!
There it is.
Ah, yes.
And there
And there.
Amen.

[photo from the wonderful blog, nature has no boss, by MIKE BIZEAU used with permission]

In the meantime

Quote

ominous times

“Meantime … that’s when the mean men come.”
– my own definition, circa age 5

Seems we are living in the meantime.
Seems the mean men have come.
When a mother dies, trying to shield her children from gunfire,
And the children are killed, too.
It is the meantime.

When the mean men come to power
And bend that power to their own advantage
Leaving behind the families who struggle to make ends meet
And then claim they are serving the nation
It is the meantime.

When the mean men use their power
To abuse and then silence the women around them
Who take their dignity and threaten their life and livelihood, too
Sometimes taking that, as well,
It is the meantime.

When the mean men point their fingers and shout
Trying to distract us all from their abuses
Blaming anyone who looks different or seems powerless
For the outcomes their own system perpetuates
It is the meantime.

When the mean men are ready to do whatever it takes
To preserve their positions of privilege – of wealth and of power
Building walls and buying guns, hoping to keep themselves secure
Not understanding that the imbalance and separation is their greatest risk
It is the meantime.

When white men and women (like myself)
Wear privilege like underarmour
So tight that it seems to us like our ‘natural’ skin
We think it hides our flaws beneath its smooth whiteness
It is the meantime.

I am complicit in the coming of the meantime.
The mean men don’t have to be men (though they often are)
They don’t have to be white (though it makes it more likely)
We just have to be small, stingy, self-absorbed –
Another definition of mean.

Can I also be complicit in changing the times?
Oh, I do hope so.
And the first step must be outside my own walls.
It is time to leave the meantime behind
But how?

It cannot be done through power and privilege
All my usual tools do not avail
I will not figure it out on my own
My head is too small and my eyes too blind
Will you take my hand and help me not be mean?

[photo by Oiluj Samall Zeid per cc 2.0]

good morning

sunriseGood morning, Holy One.
Good morning.

You smile upon the earth and the sun decides to rise.
You breathe and that breath stirs the trees and sets the waters skipping.
You kiss the earth and it blooms.

How then can my heart be dull?
How can I stop my voice from singing?
How can I sit alone and lonely in the face of such wonder?

Thank you
Thank you
For your constant ‘Yes,’ stirring my soul to unshakable hope.

That is what I need.
That is what you give, this holy morning.

Amen.

 

[photo is my own]

moments of peace

comfort one another

There are moments
– far too few –
when I remember to lean my head back
and feel it rest upon your shoulder.

Then I feel you kiss the top of my head
and your spirit gathers me like a beloved child
upon your lap,
surrounded by your embrace.

The rise and fall of your chest
quiets my soul
and I know that
all is well,
all is well,
all is well,
regardless.

[image by Bill Rogers per cc 2.0]

true or false


Wise ones tell me that there is a true me and a false me.
The true me is the one formed in the image of God
And gifted is particular ways
To reflect that image.

The false me is the one that I think the world wants to see.
It is the one I want to see,
So that I can feel that I am ‘worthy.’

The same is pattern seems to be true in collections of people.
There is a true family and a false family.
There is a true church and a false church.
There is a true society and a false society.

The whitewash is not working.
Our efforts to be ‘right’
Are, so often, so wrong.

So, how do we learn
To step aside
From the false companion?

Paul’s solution?
Step away from the question of worthiness.
Put down the chore of living up to the law
And accept that you are already accepted.

When I was a kid, I thought of this as ‘do-overs.’
But that just set me up for another round.
When will I learn?
It’s not do-overs.
It’s done.

[photo by Mirjana Veljovic per cc 2.0]

why should I be surprised

autumn leavesWhy should I be surprised that I cannot understand true mystery?

True mystery is not something that can be solved.
It cannot simply be puzzled out and then set aside.
Instead, it burrows deep, pulling me with it,
Until, amazed, I find myself somehow at peace with what I cannot know.

I cannot know – yet I am known.
I cannot grasp – yet I am held.
I cannot find my way – yet, in that way, I am found.

It is, indeed, a mystery.
Unfathomable.
Surprising.
Mysterious.

Imagine that!

[photo by Andrew Birch per cc 2.0]