“Prayer should take up and turn towards the spiritual order all the powers of our mental, emotional, and volitional life. Prayers should be the highest exercise of these powers; for here they are directed to the only adequate object of thought, of love, and of desire. It should, as it were, lift us to the top of our condition, and represent the fullest flowering of our consciousness. For here we breathe the air of the supernatural order, and attain according to our measure that communion with Reality for which we were made.” Evelyn Underhill
Look at the empty, wealthy night
The pilgrim moon!
I am the appointed hour,
The “now” that cuts
Time like a blade.
I am the unexpected flash
Beyond “yes,” beyond “no,”
The forerunner of the Word of God.
Follow my ways and I will lead you
To golden-haired Suns,
Logos and music, blameless joys,
Innocent of questions
And beyond answers:
For I, Solitude, am thine own self:
I, Nothingness, am thy All.
I, Silence, am thy Amen!
Seems an awful precarious vessel
By which would flow
You, or any part of You.
Even my wonder at Your goodness is
Too unreliable, too simple.
Part of and maybe the magic is
You’re to be hoped in:
No matter our fragility
Lack of dependability
Whimpering, stinking inadequacy.
You and all Your
Tendrils of light keep
Teasing to hope.
With so many words
This fragility I’m tempted to begrudge
Turns out’s my greatest asset
As it makes room
For all His goodness
That I temporarily forgot
In all my (quite-temporary-and-posing-as) capability.
How majestic is
– Not just Your Name –
But Your way
Light as a feather
Heavy as a mountain
More besides and all the in betweens
Staggered, lonely, and full am I
With such a God as You
Help us see YOU
Hey, WordPress friends.
I’m looking ahead to a 9+ hour car trip.
That means lots of time to listen to music.
Because I’ve been cultivating all things mom and wife for the last 16 years, I’m a little outta touch with all things new and music. It used to be the center of my universe – and it’s gaining momentum again since the kids are older – but there’s been something of a new-music lag in recent years.
I’ve been racking my brain for my old favorites, but since I’m also a lover of the new and the old-but-forgotten, I was wondering if you’d be willing and/or interested in passing along your favorite songs? With the exception of polka and Sourthern gospel, I’ll listen to just about anything (and my kids will be in the car, so it can’t be explicit either.) I love a good lyric (Y’know, ’cause words keep me sane), but love all things melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, etc. and so forth.
In other words, if you were anticipating a road trip in these days of the amazing and practically automatic playlist what tunes would you include?
Bring it, people! Let’s make the best play list EVER! I promise I’ll think of you when I hear the song, but if that’s not incentive enough, please include your blog address with your song title(s). In keeping with the driving theme, at least we could make traffic (as in “traffic to your blog” and any driving traffic I may run into) pleasant, palatable, and productive!
Thanks in advance for sweetening some spaces!
And you may mind me saying,
But there’s nothin’ like your wretched to bring out mine.
I know you’re not trying to NOT know me,
But you’re not trying TO either.
It’s hard to hug so much premeditated posturing,
And I’m sorry I walk away disappointed in you.
I don’t know why.
Your refusal to know me
Is just another reflection of my own ugliness.
This isn’t all there is.
Praise His Name –
This isn’t all there is.
Bear with me,
I’ll bear with you and
Shed this outgrown itchy skin
For a fresh one
That gleams and shines
‘Neath the light.
Ready and new for receiving all you offer, it’s
Impermeable to stings and scratches.
Forgive my absorption of your ugliness:
– please disregard it –
As if I didn’t have my own to be rid of,
I’ve gone and lazily let yours ooze through.
Like so much poison all our transgressions
May mingle and choke out the healthy
If we’re not careful.
I know better.
A better way
An excellent way
A less garment-like way;
One that doesn’t have to be changed nor shed
One that is rooted in – Who is – love and righteousness.
Who never tires, nor offends, nor spoils.
Who extends love to a thousand generations.
Make us so, Lord.
Forgive these petty (though still dire) offenses,
Be our love and
Thank You for Yours.
Free the butterfly from his cocoon
The spider from his molt
Quicken the buffalo calf from the wolves’ pursuit
Make all the carnivores vegetarians.
I’d upset the natural order of things in favor of less:
Less effort, less running, less power
Thereby weakening all things and
Have the place overrun.
Instead of shrinking and fearing all these threats,
I pray to meet them as He’s directed:
Be strong and courageous
Not lettuce leaf wilt
‘Neath what would challenge.
Head up, shoulders back, forehead like flint
May I take hold of a freely offered inheritance as
“Lacking in nothing”
Oh, the wonder of this –
This puny puddle
Rallies a little
A slack everything
Perks up with the suggestion
The fullness and
Scope of this
Gulf Stream life
And I’m right saturated and
Even bogged down while moved along.
Regardless of my desire for calmer (stagnant?) waters
I’m the mom
For all practical purposes
But all I feel is to be
“Like butter spread over too much bread”*
All these children’s questions
Charge the particles
In my like-an-old-school-tv’s
Instead of jolting to life,
Zaps already taut and sensitive fibers
And this tired old battery sparks only to grinding.
That mere machinations
Aren’t the source of life and
Just-function won’t sustain any of us.
Without the proper mechanic’s lifeblood to
Recalibrate all these lifeless moving parts we’re all just
Bound for the junk heap.
I wheel myself in for inspection:
Open the hood
Expose the innards
Wait for His assessment.
It took me way longer to get here than it takes for Him to look.
Surprisingly gentle, thorough, and quick
He fusses with something (I don’t see what) and
I expect the damage report – as ever –
To be that this time I’ve ridden too far, too long
Without this scrutiny, this help, this exposure.
Instead, He bids me turn the ignition and
– Expecting dead space –
A deep resonant purr sounds instead.
Instead of more static misfires and sparks
A healthy hum of life and connection fires full and throaty.
I shake my head in wonder and thanks and
Roll forward back into the stream
Anticipating a new horizon and steady current to
Carry me along, the Master Mechanic’s prints? My map.
A new peace descends
It’ll probably be displaced by some scurrying, unexpected,
For this moment
Trouble, lofty pursuits,
(Than savoring a bit of quiet)
Seem a little trumped up
(a little silly?).
I don’t mean to judge
It’s just that
This new peace that’s descended
Seems enough to accomplish most anything
– Seems like everything –
Without lots of trying
And I do hope that this basking
Will serve to extend it
If even a little further…
Thank You, Lord.
Jesus is kinda punk rock
‘Cept drive’s not gone awry:
No violence serving ignoble purposes
– He’s still hardcore –
Tumultuous and jarring as a mosh pit
He’s not all piety and whispers
But He is clean
Jesus is kinda Baroque:
Jesus is kinda hippy:
Not bound to norms
Akin to blowin’ with the wind
Jesus is kinda conservative
Fitted too for suits
Intentional, shrewd, spot on, exacting, rigorous.
Calm, cool, collected
And still authentically authentic
As lion, lamb, dove, serpent.
No wonder all these appeal and
– Each but a strain of a more excellent way –
Speak to us
Trouble is, err too much on the side of one
And the others get forsaken.
Why not dig deep
Stretch a little and
Embrace smatterings of each
Taste and see all the richness
Of the one in the many
Not make up a limited mind
Held in and unfinished
Towards one and only best way
But all in, eyes open, ready to see The Way
As it – as He – chooses to present
And so regard with love and awake to those
Who wear His other colors
The Him in the them