Well I tried to make it Sunday
but that ocean tide came calling
I stopped on the way for some Tupelo honey
just know my soul needs healing…
My Angels have grown older now
though they do not tire of my journey
they bring comfort to my soul
they guard me in my worry…
There are no words needing to be spoken
there is no darkness I cannot face
I will sit beside the ocean blue
and for a time it will be a resting place…
I feel I am my best self when I write. To portray life as it is as well as it should or could be. I suppose that is what a painter feels as well or a dancer, a sculptor…
Writing brings me a contentment in the moment not feeding the future or regretting the past. Sometimes when I hear or read a string of words together my ears perk up like when the wind whispers in them.
I know that I’m not saying anything new but for me writing feels like the process of the sea’s relentless movement or the running river water as they both over time smooth the sharp edges off of broken glass or a rock and reshape them into something beautiful to behold.
I know most things never change but to attempt to express a feeling or fragrance or a picture using words is my passion.
Here is an example of what I am saying…
Wisteria grew along the weathered splintered gray fence that had long been forgotten. The fragrance of the wisteria permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are for there-in lies treasure in the pleasure and the pain…
I feel a story coming on…to be continued I hope.
(“Rachmones”:this is a Hebrew word for womb…It is the definition of a compassion as deep and as undeniable as what a mother feels for her child). A little set up for the journal essay below…love you and your family.
I got up very early on Sunday morning and sat on a bench in the park…I wondered what it would be like to leave my Christian self and shrug off the garment of My Lord’s bloody cloak. I remember standing up and bowing to my knees. The stillness and holiness of that place brought to my mind the word’s “Lord have mercy… “Chrieste eleison.” Then I thought of the former life I had shed because of Christ and how he had withheld his anger from me and has shown me His Mercy. The Yiddish word for Mercy is “rachmones”, whose root is “rechem” the Hebrew word for womb.
Myself being a mother and now a grandmother I am sure once again that God is my father and my mother, the silent mother of mercy, if you will. In his transcendence He is not limited in any way. I know that I could no sooner cease being a Christian then I can cease being me…So I picked up my bloody cloak of Jesus Christ and put it back on gladly. I pray that if anyone sees anything at all the rest of my life it will be God, the silent mother of Mercy, Rachmones.
So brilliant now the sunlit skies
that old sweet blindness passing by
A woman-child knows fruitless times
all dressed up in lace and rhymes…
Let silver lanterns lead the days
Of ones who journey through the ages
To nurture wildness is to be wise
Let silver lanterns by our guide.
You think you want to drink that cup?
Then you don’t know where the wine comes from.
You think you know the Devil’s take?
You arrogance is a deadly mistake.
Don’t pontificate on your good deeds
Your religion of outside “looks”
You want to be like Jesus Christ?
then drink the wine of forgiveness tonight.
I lie down under the burden
of the courage that I lack
For you to see the sin in me
cannot be taken back
It is my greatest fear at times
you might finally know
The dark and filth I tasted once
I never want to show
Exposure of who I really am
could drive your love away
After all you’re only human
dare I hope that you would stay?
The truth of exposure that I do not fear
is a mystery not of loss
but a debt that is paid fully
willingly hung upon the Cross
I dreamed I saw a million angels flying saying something about the King.
There were children singing and mountains falling into the empty Sea.
Who will it be, who will it be, is the Holy One finally come?
Look for the Evil one’s dying day for the End has just begun.
I was kneeling at an alter of burning dreams there was a red moon in the Sky.
There were mothers crying and babies dancing yet no one there could die.
How can it be, how can it be, will the damage be undone?
Look at the Sword He holds in his hands, it blazes like the Sun.
I dreamed I heard Purity and Fury thunder and the earth split wide in two.
There were graveyards rolling and a clear voice calling, “wake up, I have come for you.”
When will it be, when will it be, has the Kingdom finally come?
Look toward the heavens and you just may see Him before the day is done.
Letters from a Preacher’s daughter…the difference in hearing and understanding.
When you are what we in the South call “born in the pew” the other person knows what you mean. We might be the preachers kids, or the deacon’s kid, the janitor’s kids, the choir director’s kid…you see where this is going.
There is a category of children from my generation who heard God’s teaching or rather Theology from the day we were born. Our parents generation meant well and did the best they could. I truly am grateful for each and everyone of them…
We heard, Gods is Love, God is good, God created the whole world and holds it in his hands. We heard all the hymns and knew the books of the Bible by the time we were in Mrs. Nancy’s fourth grade Sunday School. We heard about sin and blood being shed for that sin by Jesus on a cross of shame and pain, we heard about Zacheaus who repented, we heard about David who fought Goliath the mammoth Philistine, we heard about Daniel who did NOT get eaten by Lions and his three friends who did NOT even smell like smoke when stepping out of the fiery furnace. We also heard about the great flood of Noah’s day and about Prophets who called down fire from heaven and stopped the rain for three years. Then, we heard more about Jesus healing the blind, healing the sick, being very wise and gentle but also kicking some but in the Holy Temple where men had set up scams to make money off of poor people all in the auspices of being a spiritual act that pleased God…whew, Jesus didn’t like that deal one bit and he let them know about it.
More things we church kids heard was about sin bringing death; not just physical death but spiritual death. We also heard a lot that we were sinners and would die without Jesus but you see their wasn’t “UNDERSTANDING”.
My point to all of that backtracking is to say that sometimes, or most of the time we “hear” examples without really understanding. For me, what I heard was that sin separates me from God and I must be dealt with…understanding that did not really “click” at five years of age so I kept praying my sinners prayers , walking down the aisle of church to try to fix this “thing” with Jesus and sin and death and shame but without understanding that I wasn’t understanding. I kept trying to earn more, listen more, do more but without that heavenly understanding that only God works in us and I realized I am one of the ones who put Jesus in the grave as well as if I had been standing on that narrow street in Jerusalem that day…
I am reminded that the week before Jesus was killed many were “HEARING” and shouting and singing Hosanna! He is the Messiah but many many more were just not “UNDERSTANDING”…
You see they heard His parables about His Father God’s plans but they could not really understand.
The understanding came when they saw themselves for who they really were. They were weak, they abandoned an innocent man, they got in a herd mentality and yelled, “Crucify Him” and even those who had been given more teaching than any other people still did not understand.
So, the take away message from this short missive is this…many hear but do not understand so we keep striving, behaving, praying, fretting, performing for God when He actually took all of that sin, death, and striving away. Our hopeless condition outside of Jesus Christ’s blood shed for us is exactly what put Him in the grave…the Good News is Continue reading
Baby baby be mine
sing me a little Motown rhyme
Lets groove to the sound
Give it up and get on down
Oh I love the sound
the sweet rolling melody
We will dance to the beat
’til the walls fall down
“Tears of a Clown”
“My Girl” going uptown
a little Smokey and the Temps
sometimes dressin’ like a pimp
what a sound
what a groove
play it for me now
still makes me move