I Help and Stand Back (Reprise)

I am reprising this post to honor Maple Leaf Lutheran Church of Seattle who voted overwhelmingly yesterday to host Tent City 3 against not insignificant opposition.

Proposed Antiphon: We are all one in God's great scheme, in God no lonely ways. ; But myriads of blessings over an infinity of days.

I help and stand back
I open the door and get out of the way
I show you those in need and you reach out to them
I whisper a question in your ear and you find a solution
I find you a little cash and you donate it
Some food, and you share it
A moment of peace...
An ounce of grace...
I am a silent helping presence while you work
You invoke me and credit me
But I was just a signpost and a prop
You pushed to your feet
You stepped in harm's way
You tangled with hardship
You struggled with need
You made do with little
You loved in the midst of carelessness and hate
You do not stand without help, it is true...
But you stand
And I love you

Bless you, each and every one

Original post here.

Answer

Did you think
That all you had to do was read
That all you had to do was pray
That all you had to do was recognize me?

I am sorry
that the answer is not so simple
and that this is not all that is required

But in truth
what is required of you is much more

When everyone else is aligned with evil
You must speak of good

When the evil are dying
You must save them, and

When you are dying
You must speak of life

Did you notice the special deference allocated my son
And his disciples?

Know that they are not alone
And that you will share with them
The rewards of my kingdom

If you can gird yourself
with the word.

Nothing comes for free

And your sacriifice

Is not wasted

But the reward

Is also

Not visible

In this world

The peace of God

Such as it is

Be with you.



In response to 'Unclean'.

Downspout

Rain comes down
Not every day
But it does come
Sometimes more often than I might like

And under my downspout
I have a watering can
Because when it isn't raining
A very small person likes to wander the yard
Blessing the flowers with water

And in this way
I keep water handy for her
To help her in her mission
And help make the world more beautiful
One drop at a time

May all of our dark rainy days
And all of our sadness
Be similarly transformed into moments
Of sharing and joy

Blessings
LE

The Others

It seems like there are always 'others'.
Bad people, stupid people, ignorant people;
people we don't like;
People it is ok to hate.

Perhaps their last name is Clinton,
Or perhaps their last name is Bush;
Or Paul, or Kennedy, or Obama;

Or perhaps 'the others' are a race;
Or a belief;
Or a gender;
Or a sexual orientation;
Or a nationality;
Or a class or category.

We hate them, and everyone who likes them.
We hate what they represent.
We put bumper-stickers on our cars awash in hate or contempt;

We post vitrol on websites,
We wear buttons and T-shirts that drip anger, lies, and hatred.

We tell jokes that dehumanize;
We repeat slander;
We mock;
We make angry, racist, sexist, and paranoid comments.

We find it hard to relate to anyone who likes the other.
Who sees good in them.

We can't countenance a single good thought about them.

And this is unfair.

It is unfair to the other.
It is unfair to those who love or appreciate them.
It is unfair to the world of people who don't want to pass a litmus test to even speak to us.
Or who find that in our presence their speech must be censored.
And it is unfair to us ourselves - because hate blinds us to the truth.

And the truth usually lies in a third place,
Distant from the hills and trenches of our petty wars.
And it is to the truth that we must find our way.

If we can be honest with each other,
If we can hear the voice of the other and not blot it out,
Not block it out with hate;
Not ignore it.
Not censor it.
Not turn it off.
Not walk away.
If we can be in dialog with the other;

We will be wiser people.
We will be richer people.
We may be kinder people.
We may find better leaders.
We can step aside from our anger.
We can cease our fighting.

But first we need to open the gates of our heart and truly listen.
And open our minds to truly hear.

May We Find Peace
LE

Giving Thankfully

At some point in relationships
With individuals
With people in general
With the world
And with God
We find it is not enough to accept love, gifts, and support
We want to give back
And often we find that giving
Is the greatest gift of all

I see it in children who find it more important that they give something
A note,
A hug,
A gift,
Than that they receive something.

And with adults who find it affirms who they are and where they are going.

To receive requires only a desire or need, but giving puts you in relationship.

Praying, Sharing, Seeking, Caring

Praying nightly
Praying forthrightly

Sharing fully
Seeking carefully

Caring for each kind
Caring for each one

Always loving
Always caring
Anger forbearing

Joy

You are not yet so joyful as I mean you to be!

So Live-
And live in joy!
And share your joy and love with those you meet-

Be not dauted;
but daunt with love-

Let your heart expand;
Let your love flow;

And live in joy-
Mourn no more;
And regrets leave behind-

But share and give;
And love;
And live!

Let your blood flow;
And let your love grow-

And all you are;
And all you can be;
And all you are with;

Give
And Give;
And Give;
And Give!!!

Be not single and small
But Live
And Live;
And Live;
And Live!!!

For living is about giving;
And giving is about living;
And loving is about living;
And loving is avout giving;

So Give;
And Love;
And Love;
And Live!!!

Joy!

Indian Summer

Indian Summer is upon us, that bonus of warm, even hot days that comes in October, when we somehow were expecting cool and fall.

The colors of the season are gold and brown and red, golden grasses sweeping the air with their leaves and grain, and golden and green sweet barley grasses drooping over from the weight of their fruit.

The fruit of the barberry bush is not yet ripe-a pale yellow, and the wild rose is peppered with small colorful red and yellow hips.

Red decorates the ends of the maple branches, and a plump grey and black bird flutters about, harvesting bluish berries from the five-leafed vines that are dangling from the branches.

The cattails are past, most all of them disintegrating into seedy fluff, with their stalks gone to yellow.

the spring lambs-ears are now dark brown stalks, dry as kindling, but in the shade, fall lambs-ears are green and alive, their leaves spread as wide around as dinner-plates. I wonder if they are growing out-of season and frost will kill them, if their fuzz and closeness to the ground will protect them, if they are gathering energy for next year, or if they will manage yet to put up a flower stalk in the temperate weeks that remain.

The Queen Anne's lace is totally gone past, all brown, with its flower-heads converted into little light brown cups of hairy seeds.

The raspberries are ending their year too - their bright green leaves edged with reddish brown to compliment their thorny red canes.

Some vestiges of summer remain, though - constellations of white, yellow and purple wildflowers dot the grassy banks, and white, yellow and reddish butterflies make their final rounds.

Soon the cool, then cold rains will fall, and then ice and snow, and only the hardiest will show green or move about.

But for now it has been a good year, harvests of nuts and seeds gathered and lardered up, fat layered on for the cold months, tubers grown, and sweet sap and starch stored away in roots.

Perhaps, as our world surveys it's larder this fall, in the midst of plenty, we should likewise survey our larders, both physical and spiritual.

Do we have enough? Can we make it for a few hard months? How about our neighbors? Can they stand a cold season? A hard season? How about our families?

How about our spirit? Do we strive to live up to our faith, caring for all, and walking with God? And if we are satisfied with all of these questions, can we reach farther, seeking to share knowledge, do justice, create opportunity, and bring light to dark places?

These things build for us a larder in heaven, one which will never run out and cannot be spoiled, a harvest that is truly, finally and safely gathered in.

May you celebrate thankfully a fruitful and blessed year.

LE

We Are Alike

We are alike
We love
We care
We love beauty
We care for others
We are alike

Our hearts beat
Our blood flows
We can be hurt
We can cry
We are alike

We make friends
We like to share
We like to talk
We like to take food together
We are alike

We can walk
We can walk together
We can help each other
We can help others
We get joy from helping
We are alike

We can give
We can give to the needy
We can share knowledge
We can see justice done
We can comfort the sorrowful
We are alike

Our love can flow
Can flow out from us
Together it can be
It can be a river
A cataract
A torrent
A flood
An ocean
Covering all the earth
Filling every hollow
Rushing into every closed room and cell
Washing out every dark hole and sewer
Flooding the caverns and canyons of the earth with liquid light
We are alike
And together we can do wonderous things

Let us begin

Seeking Balance

How do we manage to live well-rounded lives?
How do we ensure that we invest enough in the right things?
How do we even decide what are the right things?

There are so many choices, and so many tasks. Life demands much of us: far too much paperwork and conformity. Others are always asking, asking, asking, and pushing, pushing, pushing, and we don't get the things done that we know we really should do: things that make a difference.

But we must have balance in our lives. Not balance like a tightrope walker, but balance like a portfolio of investments - investments we can move as necessary.

And our assets are limited:
We have only so much time,
Only so much energy,
Only so much money,
With wich to express God's infinite love.

We must put the love first
(What are our priorities?)
And see how that drives the tasks
That use our time
Our energy
And our money.

Happily, God's love is free.


Peace to you

-LE

I help and stand back

I help and stand back
I open the door and get out of the way
I show you those in need and you reach out to them
I whisper a question in your ear and you find a solution
I find you a little cash and you donate it
Some food, and you share it
A moment of peace...
An ounce of grace...
I am a silent helping presence while you work
You invoke me and credit me
But I was just a signpost and a prop
You pushed to your feet
You stepped in harm's way
You tangled with hardship
You struggled with need
You made do with little
You loved in the midst of carelessness and hate
You do not stand without help, it is true...
But you stand
And I love you
Bless you, each and every one

Care of the Dead

We honor and care for our departed in many ways.

Some of what we do is profoundly practical;

-collection of bodies by families and health workers;

-cleaning, preservation, and clothing or wrapping of bodies so they can be neatly managed;

-documenting and displaying of bodies so that those who had dealings with the departed can know that they are truly dead;

-final disposition of bodies that prevent them from becoming food for hazardous beasts or disease-spreading vermin.

And these are practical, sensible steps that humans execute to properly manage the dead in almost every culture, and which we have done since the days of the Neanderthals.

These tasks have also a 'ritual feel' to them, a depth. I think that few can care for the dead without being moved. Like children, or the very ill, the dead cannot care for themselves. They will not complain. They have no words, arguments, or expression any more. What filled them and gave them life is gone.

So we care for them. Sometimes we can express things to the dead we could not, cannot, to the living.

The dead do not judge.

The dead do not get angry.

The dead wait on us, and on God.

So we care for their mortal shell;

We place pictures, reminders, and little offerings;

...Where they died,
...Where they are buried,
...At memorials,
...In our workplaces,
...In our homes,
...In our lives

The dead cannot use these things.

The dead don't need flowers or sea shells,
Pebbles or crosses,
Candles or pictures

But we do.

We living, need to remember;

This one was, and is no more
This one lived
This one loved and was loved

This was one of us.


-for Boomer, and all our loved ones

The Mosaic Lion

I dreampt that I was visiting a small town in Italy that was tucked in a niche in the base of a volcanic outcrop, sort of a cross between a dike and a volcanic neck. The outcrop formed a pinnacle in the center and two ridges of the same very dark brown rock swooped down to the plain from which the outcrop protruded at a wide angle, curving ever-so-slightly as if to contain something as they dissapeared beneath the yellow, dusty plain.

And there, between the arms of the outcrop, lay the plaza of the town. And it was not just any plaza, but a plaza made up of many colored bricks that made up a huge, rather realistic mosaic of a proud lion standing in left profile, tail twitched in front of its left haunch, head turned slightly towards the viewer.

The niche in the outcrop, and its little town faced the plaza, faced the lion that was turning to look at it.

And I sat at an outdoor table in that town with my true love, sampling tiny, bitter pickles that were the specialty of the town, as our waiter, who wore clothes with faint, small vertical bands of maroon and brown of varying width and a crumpled looking white apron, explained that eating a lot of these pickles would make us sick, and could be fatal. I told him not to worry, we would be careful, and I awoke.

Is the message of the dream temperance and moderation? Is it more about accepting your situation and nature? Is it about enjoying where you are? Is the lion a pagan symbol alone, or is it symbolic of the watchfulness of Christ, whom I associate with the lion? Why does the lion face the little town, and the pinnacle, and not the plain?

Perhaps this last question I can answer, in a practical way: the lion is posed for someone on the pinnacle, or in a building within its niche to view it.

Perhaps the lion is not concerned with those who might assault the town, but with the welfare of its residents.

Perhaps the theme of the dream is care: caring for yourself and others, being careful, and taking care to appreciate where you are, and who you are with.

Or maybe there is a message in the way the earth in the form of the outcrop, the lion; a symbol of faith, and the town all form an integrated whole, working together to form a place which people can call home.

Keep Dancing in Your Heart

The other afternoon I saw the girl-fox;
Dancing along on her toes;
Both forward and shy at the same time.
Young, yet careworn.
A morsel of food in her mouth.

Guessing where her path might take her,
I moved to where I could see her again,
and she boldly came within twenty feet of me, and stopped,
wary, yet bold, watching me.

I hadn't intended to interfere with her, so I spoke gently to her, and stepped to one side.
She trotted back to where a curve would take her out of sight, and stopped, looking at me,
almost daring me to follow,
and then she went around the curve, not fast, not slow,
dancing on her toes.

I wasn't going to follow, either.
I was mindful of why a girl-fox might carry food,
Instead of eating it.
But then a yapping, fox-singing noise broke out;
The sound of young foxes greeting their mother.
So I walked to where the edge of the tall grass curved, and looked down the dirt road.

At first I saw nothing,
But then the girl-fox danced out,
Eyed me proudly, and sat.
And in a moment, two beautiful young foxes came to join her,
Playing around her,
Bouncing and pouncing.

They looked well fed and cared for,
And I understood the pride in the girl-fox's eyes.
She was care-worn from tending to her joy,
for spending her love on her children.

I asked God's blessing on her little family and headed off to my own little family,
Feeling just a bit less care-worn myself,
And somewhere inside,
dancing on my toes.

- - - - - - - - - -

And maybe this is a sign for me:
My work is very demanding
And not what I would choose
But it is what I am forced to do
What I must do for now
To care for my family
And perhaps I need to approach
My work with more joy
Because doing this work
Is caring for my family

Peace,
LE

May God Bless Us in our Myriads

Some tiny birds, finches, I believe, have been taking advantage of the shelter of an overhang at the house.

They secrete themselves in a small gutter shaped section of aluminum that folds inward underneath the overhang.

They bed down in this inhospitible location, in spite of cold temperatures and blowing wind that must make this metallic roost less than ideal, and peek out with tiny bright eyes to see if us humans seem to be presenting any danger as we come and go.

We are suprised to find them there, suprised at how to these small lives, this cold hard niche seems welcoming, and we worry about the weather and its impact upon them. And we make efforts to ease what must be their fleeting and precarious lives.

And I am minded of how small and uncertain all life is, and how dependent, and how frail we all are.

May God bless us in our myriads, and help us to care for each other.

I spoke to my father today

I spoke to my father today
He's been gone many a year

I spoke to my father today
He whispered in my ear

I spoke to my son today
He laughed and smiled at me

I spoke to my son today
He is so much like me

I'm very like my father
And my son is much like me

And I try to honor that
Be as good as I can be

Because my son is watching
In so many ways

and because the two of us
Have just so many days

It may be tomorrow
Next month or years away

But some day I'll only whisper to him
Like my father did today.

God bends down

God bends down and digs in the dirt
He probes in the earth around the roots of his planting.
Is the soil moist enough?
It's not too moist, is it?
Is it loose enough?
Dirt clings in the cracks of his fingers.
The warm sun beats down.
A light breeze blows.
God surveys his planting.
He prunes it back a little.
Is it hardy enough?
Will it withstand the heat to come?
Will it live through the cold?
God thinks so.
God has planted well.