The baby slept in the bed of a pickup. The bed of a pickup is not a safe place for a baby to sleep. Who doesn’t know this? The bed of a pickup is open to meteors, child snatchers, chronic low-grade fevers, and other things involving death. A pickup is used for transporting dirt. What happened is this: a 2×4 fell from the site of exploding construction. It might have been Gabriel or it might have been God. Either way, the board appeared from a womb of light and protected the sleeping baby until the wall of debris disintegrated and the storm passed.
Consider the flower
Don’t pick it
Don’t make it into a movie
Don’t use it as a tool
Consider its shadow
Consider its holy petals
consider a woman
consider a man
consider lips and ears
consider the sound of listening
consider the risk of truth
consider the light
consider the faith of your breath
consider the ladder
consider the climb
consider the harvest
consider the crime
consider the woman weeping
consider the man cast down
consider the rain
consider the sun
consider the tender shoot
consider the sky of blue
consider the burden of proof
A Cord of Three Strands
At first they thought it was all about them,
(an understandable mistake). And in fact,
it IS about them but not ALL about them.
They are secondary to what IT is about.
They thought their commitment, their cares,
concerns, worries, struggles, hopes, dreams,
could be surmounted by the
presence and power of each other.
After all, they are strong women.
As for uniqueness, their separate and
combined individualities are the stuff
of legends. And such legends….
but these women have
pledged to remind each other of the
origin of their legends, the progression,
the doubling back, the sharp curves,
the inconsistencies and themes.
Whether their legends
will be passed on for ill or for good is
a conversation that often absorbs them.
The turning point in these still to be
lived legends was the day they realized
it wasn’t all about them. At core, IT
is about The Cord of Three Strands,
a cord which is theirs to grasp, not to construct.
With this mystery in mind, they subsequently
and alternately launch each other in the
direction of The 3 stranded cord, urge
each other in maintaining a firm grip.
Some days maintaining a grip is
more difficult than others. This is where
the birds come in. The birds give witness
to the presence of The Three
Stranded cord and It’s ever present provision.
On this day of storm and thunder, the women
cling to the 3 stranded cord. The clouds part.
The light appears. The women are not straining,
but clinging, in so doing, yanking back the clouds
and basking in the light that is not their own.
On this Maunday Thursday, I am withholding my thoughts in service to these of John Eldrige’s from The Sacred Romance, “Being unable to defeat God through raw power, Satan’s legions decide to wound God as deeply as possible by stealing the love of his Beloved through seduction. And having “seduced them to his party,” to ravish them body and soul; and having ravished them, to mock them even as they are hurled to the depths of hell with God himself unable to save them because of their rejection of him.” The Beloved here refers to God’s creations: me and you – all of humanity. In the scaffolding of this impossible thought, I take on the day open to God and His sweet incomprehensible wooing. Having been given a gift, I myself am incapable of giving, how is it that it is still being given and I have the choice to reject or receive?
Today is a day of skies denied,
a day of skies restrained and waiting.
A day the clouds confer
and dance before a sun-caught moon.
Most people are inside.
Except for the man who scurries along
pushing a wheelbarrow of pillows.
He walks at a respectable clip.
His hands are full so he asked me to take notes.
This is what he said:
The sky loves earth with rain.
Earth wears the sky as a scarf.
Spend all your fear on compassion.
Nothing is greater than its telling.
Courage redeems the worse of secrets.
Canyons gape. Rivers flood.
The sea can’t sit its stand.
We spill ourselves to be refilled.