A Little Love For A Soul

It seems silly really,
this idea of expressing the essence of a soul
in a collection of paints and glass, paper and board.
Still,
I tried.

And invited St. Thérèse de Lisieux to help me;
guide me in my clumsy, yet impassioned attempt
to create an icon for the love of her.

I see all of the limits of my artistry.
I cozy up with the usual harsh judgement against my talents
while hoping to not let the good be lost in pursuit of the perfect.

Then,
for one fleeting moment,
in an instant of senses from the deep seat of my soul,
I recognize co-creation.

I experience the companion.

I feel the love of a soul just one luminous veil beyond
touch, or reason, or sight, or sound.

It is a small, unsuspecting thing;
this delicate little flower from a garden of wild things and tame dreams;
sprung from seeds that I do not know that I know.

It is a little love for a soul.

Let us humbly range ourselves among the imperfect;
let us estimate ourselves as little souls whom the good God must sustain every instant.-Thérèse de Lisieux

It’s Never Too Late

It’s never too late
to start a spiritual practice for Lent.

It’s never too hard to try.

It’s never too much to ask
if I can be a little more aware
of my short comings,
and a little less quick to judge others.

It’s never too much of a sacrifice
to stop staring at the little me;
to pause and think, and see and serve the greater Us.

It’s never too soon to be a little more willing
to look beyond my more comfortable ideas of what caring,
and an act of compassion, might look like.

It’s never too early to remember Grace;
and to follow gentle forgiveness for myself and for my fellows.

It’s never too late to practice Love.

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

1024px-goldenmedows-cropped
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.

Song Of The Shepherds

You are my body,
I am counting on you.
I need you to do for me there what I cannot do here.

I need you to love, forgive, meet and at times reject who shows up.
You cannot imagine you are hearing me correctly,
but you are.
Separate the care I ask of you from the need of yours to save.
Do this by prayer in the fringes of day.
Do this by rest under the stars;
by the light and rhythm of my moon.

I am asking you to tend my flock.
My flock comes with willingness, and eagerness, hunger;
you will recognize by sense more than sight who I bring as they respond to my call, not yours.

I am guiding you to not lose your way.
Do not let others distort or define you,
or my message, by territorial rights.
This is a spiritual truth which means true for all;
personal yes, exclusive no.

I am entrusting to you the fields I have marked as yours.
They are circled by fences built with crossbars of love and respect;
anchored by posts dug deep into the earth.
They are not too big,
nor too small for what I am asking of you.
They are not fertile but for the grass that grows to nourish souls and the season.
They are not yours in deed but by lease there is plenty,
for now and for all of the days of your life.

You are my body.
I am counting on you to be shepherds,
and the lamb of my fields.
This is the song of the shepherds;
listen for the call of yours.
Listen for Me.

Welcome to this space – a gathering place for the mind, body and soul.