The Tragedy of Tragedy

Posted on by
1

tragedy's maskWhen tragedy occurs, it seems we must hurry to find someone or something to blame, removing our own guilt and complicity, our responsibility for response, by pointing outside ourselves. What else are we to do with our anger and fear, but place it at a safe distance?

Unfortunately, and all too often, othering is what created the space for tragedy, in the first place –  or, at least, what placed the most vulnerable where they will take the brunt of the impact.

Can we learn to respond first with compassion? Can we learn, when we must blame, to blame the othering, and not the other? Can we learn to see – within our very selves – both the victim and the perpetrator, as scary and disgusting as that may be?

Oh, Holy One, help us to learn to love all ‘others’ as ourselves – as, indeed, they are.

[photo by Isabelle per cc 2.0]

 

You coming?

Posted on by
Reply

fresh strawI’ve got the straw ready in the manger.
I’ve mucked the stalls and moved the donkey to the back corner.
I’ve done my best to hide the mess of my life.
Why won’t you come, already?

I sit at the entrance to the stable-cave.
I look out at the night, at the stars.
I listen to the quiet of the town.
I push the noise of my own heart to the side.

And then the donkey brays.
His raucous voice invades the night.
He graces the stable with a fuming pile of crap.
Isn’t that the way it goes?

I think I’ve fixed it all, but it won’t stay fixed.
I’ve plotted and planned and futzed.
But the mess won’t go away.
Life is just that way.

And isn’t that the message of the manger?
It wasn’t pristine straw.
It wasn’t picturesque.
It was the middle of life as it happens.

Yet you came.

As a mother I should remember
That there is no control in pregnancy.
It doesn’t come when you want or wait till you are ready.
I should learn Mary’s lesson, and rejoice.

I don’t know how your gift can be accomplished.
After all, I am just me.
But I’ll trust your word and give you what I can.
And let you do the rest.

And you do.
Thank God.
You do.
Amen.

[photo by SuSanA Secretariat per cc 2.0]

The nest of friendship

Posted on by
2

sharing wine

Once again, I entered that warm space of wonder last night,
Where friends connect in deep appreciation of each other,
Where we get to celebrate the way our connections interweave time and space
And, more deeply, where we weave a nest of grace.

Marvelous food helps. Wine helps.
But the real intoxication is deep regard for each other
And the hope, the assurance, the energy that rises in that context
It is friendship in a state of flow.

I wake this morning in gratitude for the feast of friendship shared.

[photo by Steve Corey per cc 2.0]

[Thanks, especially, to Jean, Jane and Diana]

gift of words

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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]