Tag Archives: wonder

Again?

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Sometimes I wonder if God doesn’t get impatient with me …

Again?
Again you fall?
Again you fail?
Again you find yourself in a mess?

Yet there is something
Deep inside me
That won’t let me give up.
That continues to call me to more.

 

What if …
What if that very call is God’s spirit,
Planted deep within?
What if I am made for evolution rather than perfection?

What if the voice of impatience is my own?
What if the slow, insistent urge to unfold,
To turn imperceptibly toward the sun,
Is the true expression of God’s response to my fumbling efforts?

What if the narrative of my life
Is not a fall from grace
But a release into it?
What if that was the plan all along?

Again, I must start anew?
Of course, of course.
Always anew; always more.
That is the call of God.

And if for me
For you, too.

 

[photo by Fadil Elmansour per cc 2.0]

sometimes

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whisper

sometimes when I sit quietly
the spirit of life whispers by
silently brushing my cheek
and sending the world into light
so that I can see a hint of the great wonder
that you are all in all
all in

 

[photo by Renee Silverman per cc 2.0]

fractals of the heart

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fractals

I write because I think, perhaps,
That my heart is a fractal –
A small reflection of a larger pattern.

And I think, perhaps,
That larger pattern dances
When I do.

[image by Nick Spratt per cc 2.0]

dear little one

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dear little one

My dear little one,
Here is the eternal truth:
You were born of love; into love; for love.

From the start,
Our love flowed around you,
Holding you, cuddling you.

And as you grow into awareness,
As you begin to see and know,
Your laughter becomes our joy.

We watch you explore creation,
To make your own creations within it,
And we delight in your delight.

When you return our love,
When you smile at our smiles,
The day is full.

This exchange seems so deeply right.
It whispers of the love of God
That keeps creation dancing.

Could it be that God, herself,
Is whispering this same refrain
In my soul’s ear?

Things that wake my soul

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asymmetrical beauty

The things that wake my soul:

  • Beauty – particularly the movement inherent in asymmetrical beauty
  • Deep honesty toward myself – which opens the door to connection
  • Improbable hope lived out with grace
  • Kindness – especially unbidden and (almost) unseen
  • Friendship’s glance – and its extended cousin, a loving gaze
  • Laughter – the kind that draws you in
  • Whispers beneath the stars

And that inexplicable, unpredictable touch of the universe, when it says, ‘YES!’

[photo by Attila Siha per cc 2.0]

image and likeness

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likeness

Let us make humans in our image; according to our likeness – Genesis 1:26

Richard Rohr offers a nugget of understanding:
The image is Christ in me;
The likeness is how I live it out.

I like that – that I can somehow be like.
Then, I might actually like myself.
Like, wow.

[photo Thomas Rousing by per cc 2.0]

why should I be surprised

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autumn leavesWhy should I be surprised that I cannot understand true mystery?

True mystery is not something that can be solved.
It cannot simply be puzzled out and then set aside.
Instead, it burrows deep, pulling me with it,
Until, amazed, I find myself somehow at peace with what I cannot know.

I cannot know – yet I am known.
I cannot grasp – yet I am held.
I cannot find my way – yet, in that way, I am found.

It is, indeed, a mystery.
Unfathomable.
Surprising.
Mysterious.

Imagine that!

[photo by Andrew Birch per cc 2.0]

sometimes

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open palmWhen you sit
Quietly
With your hands open in your lap
Sometimes
You can manage
To open your mind
As well.

You will begin to see beyond
The boundaries
You have accepted
As true.

And if you are quiet
And open
For just a bit longer
Sometimes
Your heart will open, too
And you will find
That there are no boundaries
For love.

It will find you
And fill you
And then
You will be full.

Of course,
You cannot hold it all.
You will overflow.
Love is like that.
Isn’t it?

[photo by Molly per cc 2.0]

chimes

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wind chimesThe wind chimes
Hang outside my window
And when the breeze is low
I can barely hear them.

My ears are deaf
But my heart is held
By their quiet, soft, round tone.
They melt into that hollow.

Every morning
Before the world begins its clamor
And the responsibilities click in place
I am held by unspoken beauty.

Even at noon
When the wind is still
And the chimes hang limp
The beauty of hope remains.

And in the evening
When the cool and breeze return
My heart is reminded.
I find I am held, still.

too much armor

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Harness by Seamus Moran

At what point do you become so self-protected that you can no longer do the thing you were created to do?  How much protection do you need—and how much can you bear before you stop being able to grow, or fly? – Quinn Caldwell

What is God’s will for a wing? Every bird knows that. – Saint Teresa of Avila

What will our children do in the morning if they do not see us fly? – Rumi 

I wanted to write that this rich conversation between artists helped to fortify my soul … but fortification is the problem, isn’t it?

Freedom is a scary, precious thing, calling life to life in all its tender vulnerability.

May we all be brave enough to fly into the face of fear with thundering wing and gentle feather.

 

[The photo is of the sculpture “Harness” by Seamus Moran, as posted to his  Facebook page.  You can also view his work at www.seamusmoran.com. Used with permission.]