Today as amber warmth pours through
the stained glass windows
like honey on our souls,
we linger like sleepy cats
in sunshine,
praying peacefully.
If you listen quietly
you can hear our souls purr.
Tag: prayer
Holy Thursday
The evening song rises,
wavering upward with the incense.
Voices sound out like trumpets,
break open in beauty like daffodils,
proclaiming before the great suffering begins:
“It is for love! It is for love!
This great folly is for love!”
And then, the garden,
agony
alone.
Jesus, your prayer rises like a whisp of smoke,
like a candle extinguished…
leaving only a sad grey trail
curling heavenward in the darkness.
The tabernacle sits empty,
like a heart broken open
and found abandoned.
Love—
life—
lost.
We stay,
mourning you with our songs,
eyes open and aching,
empty of tears,
waiting.
Wounded Heart
God’s heart broke open
when we chose to leave it,
bursting through walls of warmth
meant to nurture,
but misperceived as barriers to freedom.
Out here in the windswept world
where many wander alone,
each their own god
confusedly crashing into each other,
our hearts are often wounded
—and burst open—
red mouths gaping with sorrow.
Who can understand our pain?
Who can heal our shattered souls?
Is there one who has suffered like us,
and survived? Yet more…has triumphed?
Go to Him.
His heart is open still
yearning with the vulnerable expectation of love…
Will you have the humble courage
to enter?
Habit Building: How always is easier than sometimes…
So I’ve been pondering the virtue of order again, as I always seem to be, because I’m not what the homemaking guru the Flylady calls a B.O. (born organized). So this Lent, more than focusing on giving up something, I’ve been focussing on aquiring something, namely the virtue of order. I’m hoping to bring more rhythm and smoothness to my week, so that certain things can happen more naturally, because that’s now simply when we do them, rather than waiting for them to happen in a fragmented and haphazard way…
So this scatterbrained poet is cleaning bathrooms on certain days, and doing laundry on certain days, and things like this. But how did this come about? Moving and Lent. Moving was a great way to have a fresh start…to hit the reset button and begin again. And this happened to coincide with a great spiritual impetus for interior growth and change for the better, which is the season of preparation for the joy of Easter.
These things complement each other well, because as when more things are planned (like meals, daily topics for homeschool, some daily and weekly chores) my mind is freed up to be more contemplative. I can read or pray without being quite as distracted by my revolving to-do list spinning about my head. I find those tiny household decisions take up a lot of brain power, and prevent me from being as peaceful as I’d like. (Who feels peaceful at 4:45 pm if you don’t know what’s for dinner and the kids are gnawing on your ankles?) So in this sense, knowing when I’m going to do certain things, rather than restricting me, has actually made me more free.
One of the things I’ve been trying to do this Lent is do the dishes right after each meal, instead of getting distracted by the kids, phone, next project (squirrel!) and letting them pile up. I’m actually generally doing better with them than I did when I had a dishwasher! And often it’s over the kitchen sink that I think of new blog posts…my little reward!
Both the routine and a spiritual motive make it easier to do my work promptly. Somehow it’s easier to make myself do certain things when they are simply part of the routine, instead of something I might do now…or maybe later…when I feel like it (because honestly, when will I feel like cleaning a toilet?).
The kids agree that stuff you do always is easier than stuff you do sometimes. My 9 year old told me, “It’s like making my bed…when I do it every day, it’s easy, but when I used to just do it sometimes, it was really hard each time.” So each week I am trying to add just a few more little things that we do on scheduled days. I don’t have really specific times for each thing, because too many details would set me up for failure…and be too much pressure. But little by little, I’m hoping to make this ship run more smoothly, with the idea that more pirate adventures can be had with mended sails and a swabbed deck!
merciful covering of cuteness
As we do our prayer tonight,
the baby stands up in my arms
quivering with curiosity
as he stares at his elephant blankie.
His little sweet self—
neath those pudgy cheeks and bright eyes—
filled with the radiance of eternity…
How is it that we are not blinded
by its brightness?
Merciful covering of cuteness!
Of course as I pray and write this poem,
baby works very hard to fill his diaper
and sends a mustard streak up his back.
Oh, the comedy of being children of God
and also, oh, so very human!
Embers Aglow
We are ashes, yes,
but underneath the dusky soot
that covers us like skin—
embers of glowing fire!
When the Holy Spirit blows,
like that first breath upon the waters,
we are enkindled
and hearts of heavy clay
become inflamed with Love.
Stardust
If it’s true that we are dust
and that from the moment of birth
we are heading towards death,
then are not all our words
like a dying breath—
an exhalation of hope
that our voices will be heard
after we’re gone?
Like the light of stars
shining for years,
sending light across the universe
long after the star has burnt out.
Are we perhaps,
though weak and frail,
yet destined for eternity,
little flurries of stardust?
Human Heart Divine
Tonight,after another long day of unpacking
and sorting the mismatched socks which mysteriously followed us
to the new house (how? how?),
we walk the two blocks to church—so close!—
and attend the Mass of the Sacred Heart.
Jesus awaits us.
And amidst the glow of candles
and the flowing melody of chant
my spirit begins to breathe again,
having been slightly suffocated
by walls of cardboard boxes.
In this open space, my heart expands.
The silence is pregnant with poetry—
the words which have been bottled up inside,
which my hands have longed to release,
begin to emerge and the urge to write grows stronger.
My little ones are sleepy
the baby dream chuckles and snores somnolently in the snugly
cosy and safe as in God’s pocket.
My toddler clutches his toy car,
which is always magically in his hands
no matter where we go,
until sleep releases it from his grip
with a small clatter.
My five year old slides over
with her stuffy peaking out of her coat,
her eyes wide open and insistent,
as she asks me a pressing question
“Do bunnies eat petals?”
“Yes!”
“I know,” whispers my four year old,
Let’s pretend we’re in a movie theatre.”
I grin and breathe in deeply to let the incense fill my lungs
as the shimmer of golden vestments brightens my eyes.
Under the everyday human humdrum,
runs the divine,
like blood under skin—
hidden, life giving, essential.
The heart of God
pierced with the sorrow of love for us
stoops down to touch us gently…
an embrace filled with yearning.
Rain drums on the roof
and we are cradled inside the cosy wooden church
as if in the ark,
riding the waves of our life
to the shore beyond…
seekers listening for the gentle sound of a dove
as the Holy Spirit leads us forward.
Praying with Paint: Transcendent Art
Today my friend and fellow Love Rebel: Reclaiming Motherhood author Melanie Jean Juneau posted some very inspiring and beautiful artwork by artist Ladislav Zaborsk and I wanted to share a few of the pieces with you. The warmth of the colours are amazing! For me, looking at these paintings draws my spirit to prayer.
I also loved the quote she included from him in her moving post:
The substance of my work is the experience of God transferred into my heart (…) Art that seeks truth and beauty is the anticipation of eternity.
Here’s the link to Melanie’s post to read more about her experience of surrendering to the Divine and to see more of Zaborsk ‘s beautiful art work which helped her express these intimate emotions: Joy of 9.
Bedtime Prayers
Ah, the peaceful solemnity of a child at prayer…except that this ‘child’ is slightly quieter than my 6 real children…whose bedtime prayers involve a lot more giggling and jumping off furniture…
Just East Of Crazy Land 