What Freedom Looks Like

A young girl, looking on from the safety of her father’s shoulders, to what freedom looks like.

About this women’s march… I went. And I’m glad I did. And apparently, a whole bunch of others did too. But here’s the thing: I really struggled with my decision to go.

I had to get to my own reasons and motives. I needed to pray for God’s idea for me and talk with friends. And when I did, I started owning that I was afraid, and worried that my walking might endorse un-peaceful protest which I am very much against. I worried that my showing up would look like full endorsement of some beliefs that I do not hold, and, here’s the really embarrassing part, I worried about what people might think of me.

At 62, still worrying about other’s disapproval. Continue reading

Prayers In The Morning Of My Despair

Protect my heart
from what has made the hate of one another.
Return me again and again,
for as many times as worry,
fear or fault,
erupts in my defended cause of righteousness,
to pray for all;
for all of us.
For only in praying for all
can I trust myself
to pray as I believe
You would have me love.

I can no longer pretend that I have the wisdom,
or right,
to separate in prayer
who is worthy of your grace,
your mercy,
your protection,
or your casting out of country or Kingdom;
so startling are these times.

So desperately I long for peace on your earth.
So acutely aware I am
of my own failings to love
that my prayers are best returned to the ones
that came from the desert of our Fathers,
and arrive in the morning of my despair.

Kyrie Eleison,
Lord have mercy.
Kyrie Eleison,
Christ have mercy on me.
Kyrie Eleison,
Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on all of us.

Nature Of God

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Spirit, like water,
find your way to my lowest mark.
Flood and carry away
what is not bolted to the Rock of Love.

Cleanse and make-new the surfaces and sides
so that from all views and perspectives
my thinking might be made fresh.
Made yours.

Spirit, like clouds,
shade me from too soon or too bright
an illumination of my failings.
Let me trust your wind that positions
these cumulus shapes of droplets and ice
like umbrellas between the God of all knowing
and my impatience to know all.
Shield and protect me by your merciful mystery,
the cloud of unknowing.

Spirit, like shadows,
reveal what shade is cast
when I block your Light from another
in my careless attention to where I am,
and where I selfishly, sleepily assume another should be.

But if it be your will,
let me lie in the drying warmth of you,
where the last standing puddles recede and disappear
from imitations of stone made of ground glass
and powdered remains of original earth.

Let me rest a spell between the baptismal rains
and tumultuous floods that raise sunken treasures of awareness;
cut and reshape riverbanks of repentance,
reconciliation and renewal.

And by your mercy,
let me not by greed or negligence
brook your rains,
run from cover of clouds,
or turn away from these shadows of self.

Spirit,
hold me fast and gently so
that I might more fully trust the weather of seasons,
and surety of change as the Nature of God,
and way of peace.

Inspired by morning time reading of Luke 1:78-79,
and entering a new year’s personal inventory.