These Broken Parts (Reprise)

I have many topics to write about and yet today this previous post is inspiring me in my life of broken parts.

Proposed Antiphon: Push Towards The Light!

Today a little person
Was trying to re-make her bed
She thought she must have been doing it wrong all week
Because the sheets wouldn’t lie flat
And tended to come off

But really her bed
Was made this week with sheets that weren’t quite right
They were an odd size
Big enough
Workable
But not perfect
And she thought it was her fault
I laughed and explained the problem to her

And thought
That life is like that
Funny but functional
Wrong but workable
Makeshift and marvelous
And that we are forever filling the cracks
And jumping the gaps
And thinking we must be doing something wrong
When in fact, we are doing marvelously
With what we have
Which is enough
Which is workable
Which is a blessing

Perfect is some other world
Not the one we live in
No, we are surrounded by
Appendices of errata
Panda’s thumbs and horse’s toes
Scars and defects
Duct tape and bailing wire

See, in a perfect world
Where everything works well
You would already be at the goal
And that’s not what we’re about
We’re about the next thing
The thing you can barely imagine from here

The thing that you can make if you cobble together
These broken parts
With the contents of the junk drawer
And some duct tape
And bailing wire
And whatever else happens to be lying around

And when we get close to that barely imagined thing
We’ll mostly make it work
But not perfectly
Because we are already busy
Working on the next thing
The thing you can barely imagine from there

And I think God meant us to be this way
Always a little broken
Always working on that next thing
That we can barely imagine from here

A Winter Faith (Reprise)

Proposed Antiphon: Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God


Cruel wintry winds
Howl, hiss and blow
Across the ice
Over the snow

Bare trees poke up
No life is seen
The ice gives all
A glassy sheen

Nothing moves
Lest blown about
High up above
Cold stars are out

Your face is numb
Your fingers chill
Breath a brief cloud
And all is still

Below the snow
Below the ice
In buried peace
Lie seeds and mice

Fish dream fish dreams
Deep in the ponds
While cruel winds whip
The cattail fronds

Chipmunks sleep tight
And dream of sun
Of nuts and grain
Of chipmunk fun

Down in the mud
The frogs all sleep
Turtles mark time
In burrows deep

Warmth will return
The ice will go
And life will rise
And water flow

Snow drops will leap
Out of their grave
Then crocuses;
These plants are brave

The buds will swell
And burst and bloom
The earth will shed
This wintry gloom

But bravest, first
Sign of the mild
The Christmas birth;
The holy Child

Reminding us
This wintry strife
Lies briefly over
Our vibrant life

From out of dark
Comes life and light
Showing us God's
Power and might.


Original Post

Create

Our God is a Creator;
He generates and nurtures;
He loves and cares;
And you are God's child.

When you are without;
Remember that God is with you;
You are not alone;
You are beloved and betrothed.

God stands with you;
And God's armies surround you;
And God's angeles support you;
Your self, and your soul are safe;
You are not alone;

Listen for the voice of God;
Listen to the voice of God;
It is not a voice that says;
'Reject';
It is not a voice that says;
'Condemn';
It is not a voice that syas;
'Hate';

It is a voice that says;
'Help';
It is a voice that says;
'Share';
It is a voice that says;
'find a place where you can make a difference';

Create in your life;
Do what you can;
In the place you find yourself.

God is with you;
And God blesses your creations;
Leave your frustrations and anger behind, and

Create!

These Broken Parts

Today a little person
Was trying to re-make her bed
She thought she must have been doing it wrong all week
Because the sheets wouldn’t lie flat
And tended to come off

But really her bed
Was made this week with sheets that weren’t quite right
They were an odd size
Big enough
Workable
But not perfect
And she thought it was her fault
I laughed and explained the problem to her

And thought
That life is like that
Funny but functional
Wrong but workable
Makeshift and marvelous
And that we are forever filling the cracks
And jumping the gaps
And thinking we must be doing something wrong
When in fact, we are doing marvelously
With what we have
Which is enough
Which is workable
Which is a blessing

Perfect is some other world
Not the one we live in
No, we are surrounded by
Appendices of errata
Panda’s thumbs and horse’s toes
Scars and defects
Duct tape and bailing wire

See, in a perfect world
Where everything works well
You would already be at the goal
And that’s not what we’re about
We’re about the next thing
The thing you can barely imagine from here

The thing that you can make if you cobble together
These broken parts
With the contents of the junk drawer
And some duct tape
And bailing wire
And whatever else happens to be lying around

And when we get close to that barely imagined thing
We’ll mostly make it work
But not perfectly
Because we are already busy
Working on the next thing
The thing you can barely imagine from there

And I think God meant us to be this way
Always a little broken
Always working on that next thing
That we can barely imagine from here

It's big to me...

I am pushed to the cliff
Where I now stand
What's over the edge?
Rocks or Water? Or is it Sand?

I am pushed quite near the edge
I worry I will fall
And the vain things of my life will end
Many, if not all.

And God is with me as I push back
And as I squirm and twist
But can I count on God to help?
Or is my God just mist?

Oh sure my soul will be intact
I suppose that’s great
But a little help here as I squirm?
God won’t cooperate.

Shall I fall, and say that this
Is all God’s will and fine
And will I lose the little bits
I hold on to and call ‘mine’?

Help me Lord,
Show me the way,
It is not fun
To squirm this way.

LE

O Lord of Life and Death

O Lord of Life and Death
We thank you for the saints
Who left to us the word
And sang and taught and gave
And bled and suffered much

O Lord of Life and Death
Preserve the gifts they gave
Tend the light of the saints
For those yet to be born
Who will have much to learn

O Lord of Life and Death
Help us to remember
Those who went before us
All that they did for us
And all that they were and are


LE

The Voices We Will Not Hear

Alternate Title: 'We Are The Friends'

They are wrong.
They are so very wrong.
We can't hear their voice.

They call out to us - they say:
Isn't this injustice?
Isn't this torture?
Isn't this slavery?

But we can't hear.
We talk louder.
We talk about other things.
We talk about their failings;
We talk about their sin;
We talk about their error.

They sit in their ash-pits,
Covered with sin,
Covered with death,
Covered with sores,
Maligning righteousness,
Indicting the good we do,
Trying to pull us down with them.

They call out to us - they say:
Is this right?
Is this fair?
Is this justice?

But we won't hear;
Instead we talk about maintaining order,
We talk about helping others,
We talk about sharing,
We talk about becoming involved.

They moan on their death-beds accusingly,
They sigh from their cells,
Their deaths scream out to us,
Maligning righteousness,
Indicting good,
Trying to pull down God.

They call out to us - they say:
Would you want this?
Would you choose this?
Would you live this?

But we refuse to hear,
Instead we talk about precedent,
Instead we talk about independence,
Instead we talk about the needs of others,
We shift away so that they don't contaminate us.

They shuffle in their shackles frighteningly,
Occasionally they catch our eyes uncomfortably,
They abusively mention their lost children,
They truculently bring up their lost freedom,
Trying to make us feel sorry for what they deserved,
Trying to shift the argument,
Trying to unseat justice.

They call out to us - they say;
Would you do this to your friend?
Would you do this to a servant?
Do you still keep slaves?

But we won't hear;
We make up stories about them that might be true,
We talk about the rights of others,
We talk about how they cannot be trusted,

They are wrong.
They are so very wrong.
We can not hear their voice.

Raise Your Light!

The sun rises, the sun sets
The moon waxes and wanes

The green life rises and leafs out

Fauns and children are born and grow

Old people hold hands, walking into the sunset

Rain waters the earth
Blue skies catch our breath

Birds sing
Fish splash
Squirrels leap
Chipmunks search the undergrowth for seeds

Woodpeckers knock, while skunks hunt for grubs below
Tiny sparks of life burrow in the earth and dance in the air

People help each other
People they know
And people they do not know

They set up funds, institutions, and ways of life to see to the care and shelter of others
For people they will never meet, for those who will come long after they have gone

Others have labored, and we have entered into their labors

Good is not the exception
We live in a very blessed world

We do not light a single lamp in the darkness
But add our light to the constellations lighting the sky

We do not sing alone in a vile place
But join the celestial chorus

There are those who do not hear
Who turn away
Who see the dark first, who struggle to pick out any good
Who cannot see how very blessed we are
Who cannot imagine the world of sharing that we really live in
And we must sing to them
And raise our light, our hearts

There is enough grace,

enough good,

… enough God for all of us

Raise your light!

Something Interesting to Look At

I love it when creative people colaborate, and here is a wonderful example - Enjoy:

A peaceful Lent to you -

LE

frosty filigree

A fantastic frosty filigree has silently decorated my window while I slept.

Now the sun catches the twisting tiny twirls of tinsel that have grown there, sparkling and glinting as if dotted with diamonds.

I am glad that I am inside to enjoy the beauty in a warm place.

May you have a warm place to shelter in your cold days also.

A Winter Faith

Cruel wintry winds
Howl, hiss and blow
Across the ice
Over the snow

Bare trees poke up
No life is seen
The ice gives all
A glassy sheen

Nothing moves
Lest blown about
High up above
Cold stars are out

Your face is numb
Your fingers chill
Breath a brief cloud
And all is still

Below the snow
Below the ice
In buried peace
Lie seeds and mice

Fish dream fish dreams
Deep in the ponds
While cruel winds whip
The cattail fronds

Chipmunks sleep tight
And dream of sun
Of nuts and grain
Of chipmunk fun

Down in the mud
The frogs all sleep
Turtles mark time
In burrows deep

Warmth will return
The ice will go
And life will rise
And water flow

Snow drops will leap
Out of their grave
Then crocuses;
These plants are brave

The buds will swell
And burst and bloom
The earth will shed
This wintry gloom

But bravest, first
Sign of the mild
The Christmas birth;
The holy Child

Reminding us
This wintry strife
Lies briefly over
Our vibrant life

From out of dark
Comes life and light
Showing us God's
Power and might.


Perhaps on a similar note: The Winter of Contentment

We are Created Good

We are created good;
As all God creates is;

And God asks us to work;
In his fields out of love;

Love bears fruit and saves us;
Making us fit dwellings;

For our holy Father;
And his blessed Jesus.

Who calls out to each soul;
To offer them his yoke:

"Take it upon yourselves!"
"This burden is quite light!"

Sharing his life with us;
For all of us he died.

Though many start away;
He calls them "Come inside!"

Some from the faith will fall;
And others faith attain.

Yet Jesus came for all;
And calls each one by name.

(Not a definitive work on theology, just a finger, pointing...)

In Our Furry Cousins

I heard a strange cry this morning;
An insistent cry;
A mournful, catbird-like cry;
It was a young squirrel, sitting on a branch,
Calling to her mortally wounded brother;
Who crouched, groggy with his injuries;
In the middle of the road.

I was able to get the little wounded animal into a box;
With shredded paper in the bottom for litter;
But it rapidly expired.

There was little I could do for our little brother;
With his wonderful fluffy tail;
And his soft creamy underbelly;
His clever paws, and his bright eyes;

I have prayed that God will accept his little soul;
Into God’s everlasting garden;
Where the trees are full of nuts and fruit;
And the ground is soft and forgiving;

And I also pray for the little lonely girl-squirrel;
Whose brother was taken from her so early;
And whom she so clearly mourned.

Something of the unifying life,
Something of God;
Dwells in these our furry cousins;
Our ability to love did not spring from nothing,
But grew, evolved from the little loves of creatures like these.

Somewhere in our ancestral tree,
Dwelt elders not unlike these;
Little lives and little souls;
Who lived, and loved, and leapt;
And who knew what it is to mourn.



Brother Squirrel was laid to rest near his family
beneath the giant oak tree where he lived.

An All-Encompassing Love

Sometime about half a century ago, a mathematician proved that for any mathematical system, there will be some problems that cannot be solved, which can be solved by other mathematical systems.

Isn't that remarkable? By extension, any one way of thinking will have areas it cannot address well - that require other approaches.

And further; the world is not comprehensible to any one way of thinking.

And any one theology will similarly have certain flaws that only others can address.

And I wonder if this is not another reason for the strange plurality of the Godhead, and the very different character of its elements: Spirit, God and Son. Because perhaps the one solution to our often troubled world requires more than one approach:

A creative force; our parent who calls us to be and grow.

A redemptive force; our friend and brother who challenges us to be true and intervenes with and for us, who shares our humanity.

A supportive force; a spirit that whispers in our ear and fills our hearts with love, guiding us back to God

No one approach could suffice, and perhaps no two was yet enough. To truly love the world in the all encompassing way, three were needed.

And if God IS love, perhaps it is useful to consider the Trinity in terms of love;

Parental Love,
Fraternal Love,
....and Passion

Filled with the threefold love of God, may we be wise in our own lives to see when new approaches are needed, hear when others point out our blindness, and act in God's will.

-Peace and Love to you in the Trinitarian God of Jesus Christ, The Holy Spirit, and God our Parent,

LE

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

An Issue of Scope

I was going to post for tomorrow a poem by Gail of Scribal Terror entitled 'Double [Ptero]Dactyl' as part of my theme that spirit exists in all creatures and that all are loved by, inhabited by God.

A theme expressed in my poem/post We Didn't Fall - We Climbed.

But then I heard via Tobias at In A Godward Direction that Madeline L'Engle had been released from this mortal realm, and felt that my post should honor the spirituality of this woman who saw...

...spirituality in our mitochondria, in our very atoms, and in the song of the universe...

...and as I thought about it, 'Double [Ptero]Dactyl' seemed a very appropriate poem for honoring this marvolous woman, who saw the scope of God as so very much broader.

And so here is Gail's poem, with the same artwork (above) as on Gail's original post:

Double [Ptero]Dactyl

copyright Gail Hapke 2005, 2006, used with permission

Flippity-flappity

Phantasmagorical,

Furry and bug-eyed and

Batty as hell,

Whatever became of these

Unprehistorical

Pteromarsupials

No one can tell.

Thank you Gail, and thank you Madeline.

We will miss you.

Yours,

LE

Tobias's post on Madeline is here.

Gail's post on Madeline is here.

The NY Times on Madeline's pasing is here.

You Don't Need Words

A friend forwarded me a sermon recently, that had among its cuter quotes a comment from Annie Lamott, who claims that you only need to know two words to pray; 'Thanks' and 'Help'.

This is a great quote; amusing and directive, showing us how accessible God is and how simple to reach God.

But like many of my little words of wisdom, I don't think it goes far enough, or expresses the true wonder of God's love.

True, it encourages us all to pray, no matter how simple our prayers.

But we don't always have words for our prayers: God does not need words - just for us to try to walk with him.

And if you look at The Lord's Prayer, you will see that it asks for help and forgiveness *before* promising forgiveness in turn.

So you don't need words - all of creation can pray - and it is ok if you ask for help first and say thanks later.

And that's just like God:
Hearing our needs first,
Even when we don't know what they are.

Peace,
LE

Evensong

Above the trees
A hawk wheels screaming
Against the azure sky
Where cloud-dragons twist and coil

About my feet
The chipmunks skitter

The sky darkens with evening
The hawk finds its nest
The cloud-dragons are gone
The chipmunks settle in their burrows

The dog barks
And appears with his owner for a walk.

Bunnies appear
Cautious and quiet
Ears atwist

Evening birds sing
A bat swoops by

I poke the fire and sparks fly up
Fireflies blink
Stars peek

Peace soaks in

May peace and joy surround you

Wasteland Pictures

Not so long ago, I published a post entitled Wasteland. I thought it might be neat if you got to see what I saw, and so here are some pictures from the very wasteland I was writing about:

Some grapes growing next to a cable supporting an electrical line...

Some immature raspberries... Today I see that some of them are ripe and that they are plump and lovely BLACK raspberries, and that many have been eaten by the little critters who live here.

And a funny bug on milkweed blossoms:

May your day be equally full of beauty in unexpected places.


P.S. I have replaced the picture on this blog of 'St Kevin's Chapel' with a picture of a grasshopper, as perhaps more appropriate. The insect in question was only briefly held and released back where it was captured. No grasshoppers were eaten or harmed in any way in the production of this blog.