She felt as if she had stepped off the very edge of the earth
Following the gull she tilted her head to its arc of flight
Her pocket filled with a beachcomber’s small treasure
Fingering each curve and dash of the shells awash with sun and sea
In the early evening light the sea shimmered and shifted gently
The tones of lapis and turquoise dazzled her vision
while the white sand beneath her feet cushioned the touch of the earth
Taking a deep breath of the salt air she wished she could live here forever.
A penny for the boy
A peony for the girl
Oh the losing and winning
The dying and living…
Cry for sorrows
Laugh for joy
Smile at the mirror
Frown at the noise…
I want to stay right here
In this mess called “life”
Scare it off the pages
And watch it sparkle in the light.
It seems to me that all people who I know, even those who don’t agree with me politically or spiritually, long for redemption in some form. They want to be heard. To have value. To redeem the things inside of us that hurt us and others. These automatic responses of “defensive behavior” which only seem to widen the gap in our ability to be relational in this world must be exposed for growth to occur.
We seem to mix up guilt and shame into a toxic cocktail that instead of leading to redemption gives us a false sense of entitlement or justice…”well, I have behaved like this because so and so was done to me…” Or, we fill up our “empty self” with something to make us think we matter…
As I grow older (63 in December) I have a passion for myself and the people around me to, as one writer puts it, “have the freedom to doubt, to have fear, to fail, to be overwhelmed, to be angry, to have passion…that is the dignity that God gives us…that comes from God living deep within me…This IS the Christian conversation.”
In my recent study (almost three years now) of Job’s life I am so strongly compelled by his (Job’s) conversations with God and his friends and family. Job experiences every grief, emotion, pain, failure, fear, and joy that is the human experience…He loves God, he gets angry with God. His friends support him AND forsake him…his family is taken away, his wife mourns without him. He is utterly alone and physically ill yet all the while he is aware that God is present and that THIS conversation going on is the one that all the other conversations (life) are perched upon…
The thing about Jesus and His cross of atoning death and his Resurrection is that it is for everyone! Anyone! Billions before us have known this is true. We are “invited” to come and see that the Lord is good. Then we are invited by his holy power to grow up an invite others. No one is not welcome at the cross. Never forget.
My friend, Dr. Hud McWilliams, who is a great teacher and thinker and counselor told me the most challenging part of his work is to convince adults that your largest part of growing is STILL TO COME. He said, “you should grow until death.”
Some deep thoughts today no doubt but this is the conversation of life that drives me…I am grateful for it and see it as a huge gift…something to think about…
My body is softer now. My skin has begun to drape like crepe paper. I do not have to wear glasses to read but I do to drive. I hope to gracefully age for my daughters, although a lot of my friends have had “work done” and while it is tempting, it is not me. I was voted “most like Mary Ann on Gilligan’s island” at a class reunion once. I like that title and will keep that as a compliment (I can’t pull off Ginger for sure) but I still color my hair. Just can not take the gray yet graceful or not.
Walking purposefully and briskly until death. I long to finish my life well. I do not know what lies ahead. I navigate and then I wait. I try to stay in the moment. I try to continue to grow. The alternative is death.
I know real Continue reading
Your Mama knew I loved you boy
before you ever did see.
She said I have a poet’s soul
I thought no one could see.
I guess I always loved you boy
though I never really knew.
When we’re young and wild
It’s a wonder that we do.
Where did all the time go boy
sand through the hourglass?
Young love they say is magic
just like splendor in the grass.
These small child’s handprints on my glass backdoor
the sticky applesauce and popsicle on my kitchen floor
I wouldn’t trade for all the mansions in this world.
These conversations with my daughter’s
the new territories in this journey
I wouldn’t miss for all the fame this world could offer.
These days I count as precious gems
to the road that leads me round the bend
I will simply give my sweetest Hallelujah.
I lift my eyes
from all that is broken
from the ashes of idols
from lies that are spoken
I lift my eyes
from this earthen vessel
from unanswered questions
from the unfulfilling morsels
I lift my eyes
the window of my soul
to the heaven’s Creator
to The One who has control
I lift my eyes
where my Faith will be made sight
at His appearing I will see
The Defender and Lover of my soul
has His eyes on me
A silent prayer to the close of night
bloodied and battered in the morning light
No more walls or secret places
ashes to the wind from trash to Grace…
The ribbons of sadness all broken away
Redemption’s song the melody of the day
I will meet you at the road and the sky
over the edge I will let my spirit fly…
Turn my mourning into dancing
I clap my hands with the rocks and tree
The Benediction to the new day coming
a wedding feast for my Beloved and me…
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.