Let me count the hints of hope that ring my days:
a new marriage for my daughter – forged from hard lessons and determined love
a new grandchild, looking in wonder at the world and babbling joyfully
a steady hug from my husband, ever ready to comfort, support and tease
friends – so many kind and committed friends – who grace my days with centered wisdom
and, somewhere in the hidden corners of my heart, the whisper of the Holy One.
[photo by Cam Miller per cc 2.0]
I am the small tin dog in the Monopoly game, caught in the circuit of the board. Pass go, collect $200, buy a house, market and trade, weather the bad cards, revel in the good ones and then… go to jail. I sit for a moment concentrating on the board in front of me when suddenly the “jail corner” grows to envelope the whole board. There is noting there but jail.
I turn and trot on my little tin legs to the edge of the playing surface and, without warning, I jump. I tumble through the air off the edge of the board, off the edge of the table, falling into nothingness. Panic strikes my heart – maybe the game is all there is. Maybe I am wrong to believe that truth lies elsewhere.
But just as these thoughts enter my head, I am caught in a strong wind. It whips around me at first, tossing me with its turbulent edges. But when I find the middle, there is calm. I sit within the movement of its powerful direction, and because I move within it, it seems almost still, like the calm of a sailboat catching the wind and pulling forward. The waves slap and the sail billows, but the riders who follow the wind are not buffeted by its power.
The wind carries me along like this for a good distance, high above the surface of a country I cannot identify, high above the trees and cities, over wisps of cloud that sit below me as I move on the current of the higher air. Then I am deposited on a hillside. I shake my tinny legs and roll in the grass for a moment and then lie, panting with excitement, on the grassy slope.
I am met there by a child. He wears a sweater and some woolen shorts. He walks over to me and sits beside me and places his hand upon my tin body. As he does, beginning where his hand touches me, I slowly turn from tin to flesh and bones. The doggy colors of my new coat melt over me, almost anoint me as they replace the coldness of the metal that I was before. I lick his hand with a warm, wet tongue and he smiles and wipes his hand upon his shorts.
“I’m glad you came,” he says, and rises. He begins to walk toward the crest of the hill. I follow. As we reach the top, I can see, spread before me, a whole countryside of fields and forests, with a small town nestled at the edge of the woods. Scattered among the houses in the village, there are a few red plastic houses from the Monopoly set, full size but just as empty as they are in the game. They boy smiles at them when he sees where I have fixed my gaze.
“When they no longer choose to be empty, they will be transformed as well. It seems an easy choice, but it is not.”
“I know.” As I speak the words, I am no longer a dog. I am a child about the same size as the boy. He reaches out and takes my hand.
“I think we are ready to begin,” he says and he turns and walks with me on a path toward the village.
4 14 95
[photo by Barbara Friedman per cc 2.0]
May your days be filled with the fingerprints of love,
The quiet, almost imperceptible affirmations
That keep you steady in the midst of bustle:
The cup of coffee shared on grateful mornings,
The hug when you are weary,
The hand you reach for in the presence of beauty,
A sigh at the end of a long day,
Your heads upon a common pillow.
May these small moments coat your days
With the tangible presence of grace – of lived affection.
May the wonder of this day’s celebration,
Echo far into the future’s future
As you grow in each other’s presence,
And find your true selves, truly held,
Within your heart’s true home.
[Celebrating E&M 11 26 16]
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.
If any of you is lacking in wisdom, ask God, who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and it will be given you. But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. – James 1:2-7
My brothers AND sisters, you say,
You of the ancient patriarchy.
Evidence of your own wisdom.
So … I ask, as you ask me to, for wisdom
But I don’t know how to do so without doubt.
Second guessing is second nature for me.
To believe enough to find joy in trial?
To let it test my mettle
And produce endurance, maturity, completion?
Your idea of ‘lacking nothing’
Seems pretty different from what I had in mind.
I’m wanting you to change the world – not me.
Yet, I am left with a decision:
Settle into discouragement, or find the joy.
Perhaps, that realization is the start of wisdom.
Perhaps the path will show the way.
Perhaps taking the first step is what faith means.
Hope takes my hand. Joy stands beside her.
We step together.
[image cropped from photo by In Transit per cc 2.0]
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in. – Anthem: Leonard Cohen
Truth for my soul:
There is no perfect offering
In my hands,
Or in yours.
May the crack in my soul, in my nation,
Give room for light
That we may come like refugees
Into your love.
Thank you, Mr. Cohen.
There is a hole in my soul that needs filling.
Stuffing it with newspaper just won’t do.
Neither will ignoring it, or just walking around it.
The hole is a wound,
Not from the slash of a blade,
But from the steady friction of the world.
I need the salve of your hope.
I need the wisdom of the great physician.
I need … you.
Oh, my little one, you have me.
Always and forever.
I am before and beyond.
I am within and throughout.
I breathe inside your breath
And leave the dusting of my presence
Wherever you are.
The trick (though it is no trick)
Is to be there. Fully there.
Fully embodied; fully infused.
This reality is already yours.
Now, before you retire.
Now, before you even start your day.
I am yours and you are mine.
That is true regardless.
But when you open to that truth
That is the magical moment (though it is not magic);
That is when your heart quickens with the breath of hope.
That is when wisdom invades your words
And grace flows from your touch
When you become the conduit of my love.
Oh, Holy One,
I long for this to be true.
It seems I always stand on that precipice of longing
But I lack the courage to fall into that reality.
So, year after year, I come to the very edge of promise
And turn to go without fully embracing its truth.
I leave the blessing for the busyness of my days.
I postpone your call, to answer the phone.
Pick up the phone.
That’s me on the other end.
You can answer my call in that conversation.
Trust – it comes with action.
Doubt is just the mud on your shoes.
Keep walking – it will be worn away.
[photo by Daniel Meyer per cc 2.0]
May your heart find peace this day.
May you breathe in the holy breath of hope.
May it strengthen your soul and fortify your step.
May you know, deeply know, that you are not alone.
Just for a moment, may you feel the embrace of deepest love,
Circling round your very being, holding you tight.
May you know with deep assurance
That you will never fall,
Except you fall into those arms.
[photo by Demetrios Varoumas per cc 2.0]
Praise to the Lord
whose specialty is
barren wombs,
the wilderness,
a lame man’s legs,
and a basket lunch.
I think I can find hope
in such a One.
[Reflections on Luke 1:46, ‘Mary’s song. Image cropped from photo by Steve Cadman per cc 2.0]
Your vision before my eyes,
Your love within my heart,
Your truth upholding my soul,
Your grace to make it so.
Oh Holy One,
Let it be so.
Amen.
9/19/95
[photo by Cesar Cabrera per cc 2.0]
This day,
This day,
Oh Holy One,
Let me unclench my fists so that I might receive your grace.
Let me stop trying to run ahead, and turn, instead, to dance with you.
Let me give the baton into your hands and just enjoy the music.
Let me give you my fear in exchange for your hope.
Let me open my heart as a conduit of love.
Let my fingers carry your blessing to this moment.
Let me trust that you are, indeed,
Bending the arch of the universe
So that all will joyfully come home to you.
May your dreams come true.
May I dream them with you.
And trust enough to laugh along the way.
Amen.
[photo by Dixie Lawrence per cc 2.0]
Quiet Hope 