Tag Archives: Acceptance:Surrender

Practicing giving up and acceptance.

True? Necessary? Kind?

Sometimes the simplest of tools are the best when entering discernment, or facing challenging situations of opinions.

And, these three questions seem to be pretty simple, straight-forward tests that move me to be more in line with what I believe God might ask of me.

Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?

There is debate, imagine that!, in the origin of these. But whether they come to us from certain poets, Christians, Buddhists, other religions or philosophers, they seem to call us to a reckoning towards our higher selves, and to a spirit of kindness. So much so that I wonder that in simply asking,

“Is it kind?”

I might better know the answers to all of the other questions. And the answers that best suit my soul.

The Arrogance Of My Belief

Many of us are searching; wrangling our faith and reason against the pain and suffering cast by nature’s net over our, or loved one’s lives. Entire lives have been changed, and taken. Homes and precious memories have been made into seemingly meaningless, soggy piles of rubble on the side of the road.

Then I come across this. Yet another reference to Job, the possible poster-child of suffering, and one most perfect paragraph that reflects and reminds me, in words and ways that I could no better express, both the arrogance and grounding comfort of my belief.

In case this writing may also meet and lift you where you are today, I share it here, with love.

“Ordinary Mysticism”, Dennis Tamburello, O.F.M

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.

Appreciation Without Acquisition

Maybe it’s because we are now on a “fixed income”, or broken income as my husband likes to say, that I don’t want any more stuff. Or maybe it’s because I am trying like many others to de-clutter not only my house, but also my life, my mind, my spirit.

Or maybe it’s the cumulative effect of organizing or visiting too many family estate auctions where strangers casually handle the cracked and stained plastic dish as a dimes-worth instead of the near priceless platter for Aunt Alma’s deviled eggs at Easter.

But however I got here, to this tension between getting and tossing, I must admit that I am beginning to feel full up. Continue reading