Little girl dances by the side of the ocean
Releasing the music of her soul,
Leaving its footprints on the sand,
Celebrating the greater dance that engulfs her,
Immersing herself in that joy.
Like turtles in the ocean,
She has found her natural home.
[cropped from photo by Sarah Horrigan per cc 2.0]
I am a young girl playing on the beach. I run from shell to shell and dreg to dreg, washed up upon the shore, picking up one thing and then another.
Bending low, squatting on my haunches, the wet sand makes shiny rings around my feet. The receding waves suck at my footprints and smooth their edges.
It seems, oh Holy One,
That you are tapping me on the shoulder
That you are whispering in my ear
If I were to stop and listen
… what would I hear? Continue reading
Look at the variety of creatures on earth. That demonstrates the wonderful imagination of their creator.
– Hildegard of Bingen.
Just look at the baboon’s butt and the spindly-legged spider and the iridescent humming bird and the waterfall and the mosquito – the mosquito? Hmmm. Why would that buzz through my mind? What wonder is there in the mosquito? Continue reading
A recent post by a thoughtful pastor friend reflects upon ultimate authority – and how it shapes our communities of faith. It made me wonder: when push comes to shove, what is my ultimate authority?
I’ve lived long enough, failed enough, deceived myself enough to know that I need an authority outside myself. I just can’t trust myself to be right all the time, even when I really, really think I am. Yet, there is no other human who meets the criteria, either. All are subject to the smallness of our own souls and our own perspectives. Continue reading
I ask what you want me to do.
But, you don’t really care about that.
It’s what I become that matters most
And I can become while doing most anything,
If I do it with you.
If you can show me how to do that – how to become while doing – I can do anything.
Is that confusing enough? No wonder I wander in circles. Or, perhaps, that is how I walk the labyrinth.
( Sinatra got it right – ‘Do be do be do’ solving the philosophical quandary of the centuries. It is about both – doing and being – one leading to the other, in turn: recursive grace.)
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[color added to image from Wikimedia Commons]
stopping at Starbucks
buying time with my coffee
a jolt of relief
Can I do this? Can I find a meditative space in the middle of a Starbucks halfway to Austin? Can I be honest when there are other people nearby?
Its hard enough to be honest when I am alone in my closet – hidden from all eyes but yours. Yet, it is the commitment to find the time, to come, to wait in your presence that somehow, slowly molds my soul to the contours of your truth. So, I will give it a try and hope for a bit of grace. Continue reading
There are so many things that concern me. They stand in line at the back of my brain waiting their turn to pester me. They push and jostle and twiddle their thumbs. They threaten and cajole. Like folks in the bread line in the scenes of the great depression – they stand in sepia-toned sameness, tattered at the edges, always in need.
And now that I have turned to look them fully in the face, I am overwhelmed. I, too, am in the photo. I, too, have ragged edges and a gnawing need. I, too, have my hat in my hand and my eyes full of empty want. I, too, am begging on the curb. Continue reading
I guess I reveal my Church of Christ roots (where the liturgical calendar was not part of my year) when I wait till after Lent to spend time struggling with sin. But, like Jacob-com-Israel, my wrestling is more often determined by encounters that don’t follow a calendar.
Here are the rules of the game for me right now: I have to be as honest as I can be. I have to speak the questions that haunt my soul, even if it seems totally wrong to ask them. Only an honest encounter invites the Spirit. The Spirit can take it and, until I am honest, I am not really in the encounter at all. Continue reading
When I am honest with myself, I struggle with sin.
There are, of course, the daily slights and stumbles; the things I regret, or kick myself for at the end of the day; the first world sins of breaking my diet or going a few miles over the speed limit. Those pester me, but they are really not my struggle.
Quiet Hope 
