Rachmones, the Hebrew word…

silhouette of pregnant standing on seashore during golden hour

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(“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.

Silver Lanterns

beach candle candlelight close up

 

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.

 

 

Exposure

art blur close up colors

 

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

 

 

 

…the difference in hearing and understanding…

blur book stack books bookshelves

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

Motown

black record vinyl

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

old black Jonas ( a tribute to my sweet friend Mr. Anderson)

abundance alcohol berries berry

old black Jonas made elderberry wine

i use to love to drink it,  pass away my time

he would play his mouth harp in the old junkyard

and we’d sing under the moon swinging on the stars

 

one hundred years old Jonas thought he was

there was not record of his  birth written down by the man

so he took the name of the master who owned him

said “a name only matters to those who don’t have ’em. “

 

i love old black Jonas to this day

still hear his laughter, sing his song everyday

i don’t really get that high anymore

old Jonas come back, let’s drink your wine once more

 

 

Holy Breath

pexels-photo-880687.jpeg
I suddenly wake and I can’t see anything
I start throwing my fear around
I open the window and look for the sun
and for signs of the spring…

Then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…
Then I hear my babies laughing
and smell roses in the air
Deep inside a sweet voice whispers
What have you to fear?
and then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…
At night I gaze up into the heavens
and someone calls my name
I laugh at the man in the moon
and peace comforts me again…
and then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…

Verbal Skills…

alphabet boogle dice enjoy
It is well know that it is hard for me to swallow words because I believe when we do it makes nothing but trouble. I want to talk before I die. I want to say things to those I love. I want to say things to my fellow human beings. I know you all will go on talking when I am gone from this earth and that is how things are supposed to be…yet, I can think of a thousand things I could share with my children and grandchildren and whether it matters much what I say in the long run I still want to. I could pour love into their hearts for ions…I want that.
Even an argument is the dialogue of life. To disagree, to not understand, to try with all your might to get it right, to have understanding… these are verbal skills too. I want that.
On the other hand so much can be “Said” without words. A hug, a cup of coffee, or just sitting in silence and stillness but I feel these actions speak volumes. These are verbal skills as well. In the presence of peace or strife there must be a “knowing”…a connection. I want that.
Last but not least there is the written word. For me, this is the ultimate verbal skill. This verbal skill fits me and gives me joy. I want to paint a picture with words on paper. To make a record of things that are not easy to forget. I want that.
One writer said, “It is so much easier, to learn to love what you have instead of yearning always for what you’re missing. It is so much more peaceful.” She has good verbal skills. I want that.

 

Where humble people go to pray…

abandoned architecture barn bricks

I just want to be there where humble people go to pray

 where all the heavenly host are listening

where nobody cares what you look like or what you “do”

where the people are authentic and adore their Redeemer

where The High Priest,  King Jesus records our praise in His book of Remembrance

where The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost preside in a simple cathedral

In the place where  gentle Saints go to pray…