How many times do I slay my self by unconscionable deeds,
aggression against soul?
How many intentions do I abandon in selfish unkindness,
omission against body?
How many thoughts do I hold so tightly
that they seize to hardened beliefs;
a defended-war against mind?
Aware of these grievances against the singular and collective matter of these, what hope do I have to reconcile the harms I have done? How many times might I be invited, allowed to dip my weary hand into the well-spring of forgiveness?
“As many times as needed”, I am answered.
Forgiveness is not doled out like tokens at a fair.
Nor metered in degrees of deserve or earn.
For as often and as long as needed,
and reached for by a trusting hand,
forgiveness follows to refresh
and renew the soul,
body and mind,
as a newborn in Love.
And then I hear,
“Drink deeply here and as often as you thirst.
I am not satisfied by the arid deserts you walk
but by the oasis you claim in Me.”
Lifeline to a friend,
After a long, longer, longest of time I am at my computer today, doing what I have intuitively known was needed next on the memoir, and I feel dusty. All over. Dirt of the past and who I was has clung to me like lint to charged-up plastic sleeves.
I’m stepping away. I’m making myself remember you, and what you might need. I write this note and remember who I am. Today.
That none of this today could be as it is without the path to here. It just works this way. I am all that I have done, known, experienced. I am also what I hope to be by the grace light of God.
There. That helps. Grace-light of God. And friends who show up and journey for awhile, if not always, with me as I am.
Love you. Bunches.
Suffering creates space enough for us
to know that we are alone
and in need of the omnipotent
and perfect love of our Maker.
It is not so large a price to pay
to see and step again
into and through
the small doorway of God’s peace.
It is the work we can only do from here
as our little selves;
mistaken mortals longing for Home.
In my best intention, it is better to pray for my enemies without name as one man’s enemy may be another’s saint. And to name, the one over the other is to place my opinion above the wisdom and truth of the God I love.
But, to not pray for the enemy that steals love from my heart is human neglect if not spiritual dereliction. It leaves me vulnerable to the prey of self-righteous ego or influence of lesser angels of this earth.
Lord, soften my heart for those I make enemies. Lift me to trust beyond my own reason and estimation of wrongs. Show me the mercy of You in my time of fear. And grant us peace of Thy will be done.
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