Sometimes it is hard – facing the limits of what we can do or offer to loved ones in their time of sorrow, struggle, grief.
It sometimes helps me to remember that when God knit me together, God designed me with natural limits of what is mine to experience and do, and to live within these 24 hours.
It seems silly really,
this idea of expressing the essence of a soul
in a collection of paints and glass, paper and board.
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.
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
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.
This year I walked into Lent with a desire and intention to love Jesus more, and more than the pleasures and comforts of food. But now that I am here, in the wonder and mystery and grace of Easter, I think I am hearing Jesus asking me to love myself more.
To love myself more authentically and with a higher priority than ever before in my life. To love with an eye towards caring for the body and soul of me; to keep what was born in good, to do good; for others and this world of my times.
I am surprised and still withdraw from the notions of loving myself as this Easter gift unfolds. Yet, in the listening – when all of the daily dramas and internal distractions are stilled and settled into this quiet time with You, I hear, “Love yourself as I have commanded you to love others. And by this you are loving Me.”
I am humbled and grateful for these loving whispers. And I don’t think the message is just for me.
Light cast out darkness of sin and sorrow
Grief consumes ashes where separation lay
Silhouettes of Jesus walking among us
Inviting our mind to trust not what we see.
We who live now enter the last of the story
Experience the loss with epilogue’s hope
Every grief laid barren and seared to the wood
Raising love, forgiveness and forever companionship.
This is the story beyond the scenes
Living the practice on the other side of the cross
This is the news to the whole of creation
And chance to know the eternal Easter.
“And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.” Mark 16:15
One and Now.
Two powerful words.
that destroy walls of in and out;
removes grudges and glory
from regret and promise;
stops time in the tracks
of a start or a stop;
tempers exuberance or sorrow
too much to bear alone,
One and Now.
in Hope we practice,
and by Grace,