gift of words

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pool reflecting the sky

Just as the pool cannot reflect the full sky, just as the rocks that sit at the bottom of the pool may distort the image, my words are shaped by who I am, but they are also yours. You seem to actually enjoy the fact that we do this together. You seem to delight in sharing the act of creation. Part of your creative gift is the gift of creativity, itself – you placed the seed within itself.

I delight in it, as well. I love to play with you and with my friends, to feel your compassion rise in my heart and see the words form in my soul. I love to watch you enter the space between us, among us, when we are all in conversation.

The creation that happens in the whispered space where souls connect – is beautiful; is full of grace; is full of you. It fills us all and more; shaping our souls to the contours of your very self.

Ah, this is your kiss upon this day.
This is your symphony within my heart.
This is your confident hope for the world to come.

This is your kingdom.
Come. On earth.
As it is in heaven. As it is heaven.

choosing a future

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metal boxMy fingers are cold; my whole being is cold. The warmth of my own blood has retreated deep within me and I so I sit, cuddled up beneath the oak tree at the top of the meadow. My blood runs slowly through my veins, sluggish. It doesn’t want to venture out to bring life to my limbs. I huddle down, and try to draw warmth from myself, but there is none to draw. I feel tired. Sleep beacons me, calling to me to retreat from my day before it has even begun. Continue reading →

where faith runs free

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believe written on a stone

He did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith. 

What would you do, oh Holy One, if we would but believe?

I would stir the wonder of the world and awaken hope.
I would make your time a blessing
And call you to play with me in a joyous dance of recreating love.

I would feed the starving child and cuddle up the lonely.
I would give comfort to those who grieve and dissolve the bonds of the fearful.
I would make room, in every heart, to bear the gift of life’s communion.

I would make your imagination a gift for all,
And extend the vision of my immanent love into the crevices of every life
So that all my people could feel my breath within their lungs
And the heartbeat of my compassion in their deepest soul.
I would touch their hearts with the finger of your words to stir up a living faith.

Oh, Holy One. Is this really so?

It is.

Then, help us have faith . . .
in you,
in you in us,
in us in you.

Amen.

8/2/02

[photo by *BlueMoon per cc 2.0]

reflection

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reflectionCan your love be true?
Do you really love me,
Despite my silly, scary self?

Then let me snuggle down
Within your arms,
Within your deep embrace.
Let your love shape my heart.
Let your wonder call my soul.
Shape me to reflect your gentle kindness
To the world.

Let me be a sliver of hope
That finds its way
Into the life of my community
Borne upon the whisper of grace
That flows from your lips
Through my words
Onto the page of my life.

[photo by Adventures of KM&G-Morris per cc 2.0]

A generous understanding

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eyes filled with wonderPhysics is right.
The way you look at things makes all the difference.
The looking, itself, changes reality.

When I look with generous eyes,
Willing to see wonder,
Searching for hope,
Watching for moments of grace,
My edges of my days are softened.

When others look at me with generous hearts,
Looking for reasons to love and affirm,
Rather than pointing to my warts and worries,
I am made whole.

What a gift to have friends
Who intentionally see the good in me,
Who hug me into my better self.

Perhaps that is the definition of a friend:
Someone who holds the mirror for your better self,
And calls it forth to play.

I am grateful, today, for friends like these.
They fill my life with grace.
They help to make me who I want to be.

After all, it’s not so much what you look at.
It’s what you see. It’s what we see, together.
Thank God.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8

[photo by Khalid Al-Haqqan per cc 2.0]

You have no right

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you have no right

You have no right to speak my truth for me;
To choose the words or set the cadence.
It is mine … it is me.

You have no right to tell me who I am, who I should be,
Based upon your own determined ‘truth.’
‘I AM’ does not belong to you, either.

That said, I cannot presume to know your truth
Or deeply understand the place from which it springs.
It belongs to you, shapes you, as mine shapes me.

Given that we are in this together,
Would it be better to start from questions
Rather than presumptions?

I mean the kind of questions that are, themselves, true;
The gentle, inquisitive, persistent questions that actually want to know;
The ones that lead to true understanding.

I mean the kind of questions that acknowledge
That the bigger truth cannot be held within one small frame;
That my small truth is never big enough.

I mean the earnest search for truth that calls each of us
Into the deepest expression of our own true selves.
I mean the truth whose source is love.

I AM calls each I am into being.
I AM loves each I am along the way,
Fully, at every point, without precondition.

And I am learning, slowly, to relinquish my hold
Upon my small definition of truth, my small definition of me.
I am learning, instead, to be held, in truth.

[photo by Andy Hay per cc 2.0]

A blessing for you

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blessing

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]

a tiny thanks

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tiny flowerOnce again I come to you and place my day within your hands.
Once again you smile and it evokes a smile in me.
Once again I feel your love, full and free.
Once again I lean back in that love, in your arms, and raise my face to your kiss.
Once again you have blessed me deeply with your presence.
Once again I thank you.

How frail and thin those words seem, “thank you.”
Life itself, love itself, eternity itself, are within your embrace.

And yet, my tiny thanks still fills my tiny soul … and so it fits.

Your embrace gathers me in and more
A drop within an ocean
A whisper in the wind.

Thank you.

[photo by Ron Guest per cc 2.0]

Rock, scissors, paper

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tumult of waters

I sit, trying to still the waters of my soul,
Trying to find myself within their flow,
Even as the howling storms around me
Threaten to split the very stones beneath my feet.

But the water is not threatened by cracking rock.
It merely flows into that space as well.
And with sweet relief I see that the level of my pool is not diminished.
The source of that water is not within me.

The spring that feeds my soul is unlimited.
And even when a deep crevasse opens up before me, the water fills it all.
I do not have to fall into the abyss.
The water holds me up.

Sometimes the contours of the change make it whitewater – full of crash and spray
But if I will trust the ride, and leave the end within your hands,
It can be an adventure.

A rainbow rises in the mist that floats across the tumult.

Pull me into this reality, oh Holy One, I pray.
And help me hold firm to your buoyant grace.

Rock, scissors, paper … water covers all.   You win.

[photo by Laura per cc 2.0]