oh my holy one
your whisper softly brushes
the surface of my soul
your deep compassion
calls up the love within me
your gracious smile
plays across my heart
and spills out of my eyes
you within me
that is where hope begins.
[photo by Andi Erdner per cc 2.0]
Green leaves spend their whole lives
Nurturing the tree they call home
And sending vital oxygen into the world.
In the fall, when they retire,
They turn their souls to beauty –
Revealing gifts of color that had been hidden
Under the hard-working chlorophyl.
There is beauty in the bud.
There is beauty in the green.
There is beauty in the orange and yellow that follows.
I am rejoicing in each new turn of beauty,
In the leaves, in my friends, in myself.
[photo is my own]
How blessed I am to live a quiet life
To feel the brush of eternity in clay
To know your smile
To seek your heart
To leave a whisper of that joy
In the ears of the world.
My call reflects both my essence and yours.
How beautiful.
How grateful.
How full of grace
That we could dance together now
And evermore.
When we think of you,
We remember how your faith unfolds into works of love;
How you persevere in hope, even when times are tough.
Your hope gives us hope;
Your joy brings us joy
Your faith inspires faith;
Your life shines life into our lives.
No wonder we give thanks to the Holy One
Whenever we remember you.
You embody the Spirit of grace
Who makes us one within the One.
No one can say, ‘Look! I made the candle burn.’
Instead what burns in you lights up another
And it goes on and on.
[a meditation on 1 Thessalonians 1:2-3]
[photo by Gregory Gill per cc 2.0]
There is a beauty so fierce
That it cannot be hidden.
Neither wrinkles nor scars
Can mask its magnificence.
It flashes out from eyes alive with joy
And exudes peace even as it struggles.
For there are those who are anointed
With the touch of the divine.
That touch, in turn,
Flows from their fingers
And whispers from their lips
Dusting the world around them with grace.
This is a beauty that expands with time.
Familiarity breeds … amazement,
For its kindness is ever deeper, ever true.
Its very constancy adds to its glow.
The glory of a sunrise,
Even on the highest summit
Cannot match the beauty
Of a fiercely loving friend.
The true book of life
Is not just a list of names
It is a wealth of stories –
Yours and mine.
And each day, we have the chance
To write another episode,
Enriching heaven’s dance,
Which has already begun.
I want to learn to dance with you
To lean my ear upon your chest
And feel the beat of life
To feel your rhythms in the very heart of me.
Even my self-conscious, awkward moves
Are not enough to stop the music.
It is all a part of the undeniable narrative of love
Danced out, within your arms.
Every true friendship
Holds the whisper of divinity.
What some see in the sunrise,
I glimpse within your smile.
The hug you bring in greeting
Is always a double embrace.
These truths hold my heart
And feed my life.
Thank you.
[photo by Corey Balazowich per cc 2.0]
My mother’s lullaby was a version of an old Welsh song. I remember it like this:
Sleep my child, and peace attend thee,
All through the night.
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night.
While the weary hours are creeping,
Angel guards their watch are keeping,
While my little one is sleeping,
All through the night.
As a child I focused on the ‘angel guards.’ It took me a long time to realize that the words she was singing most fervently were those in the refrain: “all through the night!”
Here’s to Mom and to moms everywhere
Who sing comfort, even when they are exhausted
And who embody those angel guards.
[photo by Carol Von Canon per cc 2.0]
I woke this morning with the vestiges of a troubled dream still roiling my soul. It remained, not so much in my memory as in my emotions. It was unsettling, and threatened to take me to a dark place. Suddenly, I could understand the idea of omens and evil spirits. I could feel the power of the imagination.
Nothing about the physical world around me was different. The sheets, tousled upon my bed, the blanket tossed aside, the taste of my morning coffee, were all as they had been yesterday and the day before. But my heart was troubled.
And now I faced a choice. I could let the dream take my imagination, or I could let my imagination take the dream. That idea … that different tone … started as a small point of light in the center of my soul.
Like a candle in the night, it flickered there, faltering, fragile in the darkness. But I cupped my hands around it and focused my attention there. Small as it was, it warmed my hands. That warmth traveled up my arms and found my heart. It began to expand within me until I found that I could breath again.
I took a deep, full breath and shook my head, and shook my soul. It broke the spell of foreboding. I listened to the chimes outside my window and the quiet breathing of my husband, there beside me. A sense of gratitude began to rise within me, just as the night began to fade to day.
Not all evil is imaginary, but sometimes imaginary evil can threaten to steal your soul. And sometimes even the evil that is real grows stronger through imagination. Even then, sometimes, you can choose to see the light, and welcome it with gratitude.
You cannot really hold the light. But sometimes you can choose to let it hold you.
May you find the light, today.
May it hold you in its warmth.
May you learn to choose hope, when you can.
And find room to be grateful,
Even now.
[this image was placed in the public domain by Noubi noubi]
The whisper of ‘i am’ within my soul
Is the echo of ‘I AM.’
Its breath would not be
Without the greater breath of life.
Yet, your great mystery is veiled,
Lest i be overwhelmed.
You hold back in order to give room,
In order to give time
For me to be.
I feel your tug upon my soul,
Your fingers brush my cheek,
And my hope catches its breath
In deep desire of you.
It is the first light of morning,
It is the call of a new day
That lets me take brief notice
Of eternity’s heartbeat in my own,
Calling me to be.
Quiet Hope 