A woman walks down the street carrying a jug of water.
Her mind is troubled by things occurring to her
and by things happening on earth.
An angel says to God,
What would you have this child you love to know?
And God says,
I would wish this child I love to be thankful for the good, clean water in her hands.
I would wish her to feel the cool breeze, and know it is my breath.
That each person she passes has a sun, moon, and star inside,
just as the sun, moon, and star within herself.
I would wish this child I love not to think about problems,
but to fill her mind with beauty, hope, and peace.
To see the flowers and butterflies, the shadows of trees, the flight of birds.
I would wish her to hear the song of birds,
and know it is my voice.
To smell the jasmine in the air,
and know it's my perfume.
To see the sky
and know that all is well.
To breathe,
and know that breath is grace.
Star Saint Claire 7/7/11, San Diego, CA
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Please Pray For A Young Girl
The Why Of Where We Are
Our apartment is sweet, but tiny. We have tried (and prayed) to move elsewhere without success. I finally accepted that if God has us here, it must be for a good reason...
Earlier today I suddenly remembered that if I didn't send my mum-in-law's Easter card, it would be late. So I walked to the neighborhood mailbox, smelling yellow flowers along the way, such a delicate scent as to be almost indiscernible. And I thought about delicate things, and how each is powerful in its own way.
The mail had already gone. If I had known that, I thought, I would have taken it to a different box.
On a whim, I took a different route home. A ways down the street a little dog, a young man, and a young woman stood in a doorway. Another young woman sat weeping on the stairs. I passed by. But then I stopped. Should I go back, or not? I went back. The man and dog were gone. But the young woman was crying even harder and louder. She had left the steps, and was now standing with her face pressed up against the door. Her friend was trying to comfort her.
I said I was sorry to impose, but just could not pass by when someone was crying so hard. She couldn't take it, she said. Her boyfriend had left. She had tried, or maybe wanted to try, to kill herself. I said that every single person with any kind of heart has felt that pain at some time. I told her it is okay to feel deep pain, but it is not okay to punish ourselves for what someone else did. I told her she must promise to tell her friends whenever she feels suicidal. She promised.
Her friend assured me they would be all right. Maybe I didn't do enough. I never saw her face, or asked her name. All I know is she is thin, young and has long shiny brown hair. Please pray for her.
Our apartment is sweet, but tiny. We have tried (and prayed) to move elsewhere without success. I finally accepted that if God has us here, it must be for a good reason...
Earlier today I suddenly remembered that if I didn't send my mum-in-law's Easter card, it would be late. So I walked to the neighborhood mailbox, smelling yellow flowers along the way, such a delicate scent as to be almost indiscernible. And I thought about delicate things, and how each is powerful in its own way.
The mail had already gone. If I had known that, I thought, I would have taken it to a different box.
On a whim, I took a different route home. A ways down the street a little dog, a young man, and a young woman stood in a doorway. Another young woman sat weeping on the stairs. I passed by. But then I stopped. Should I go back, or not? I went back. The man and dog were gone. But the young woman was crying even harder and louder. She had left the steps, and was now standing with her face pressed up against the door. Her friend was trying to comfort her.
I said I was sorry to impose, but just could not pass by when someone was crying so hard. She couldn't take it, she said. Her boyfriend had left. She had tried, or maybe wanted to try, to kill herself. I said that every single person with any kind of heart has felt that pain at some time. I told her it is okay to feel deep pain, but it is not okay to punish ourselves for what someone else did. I told her she must promise to tell her friends whenever she feels suicidal. She promised.
Her friend assured me they would be all right. Maybe I didn't do enough. I never saw her face, or asked her name. All I know is she is thin, young and has long shiny brown hair. Please pray for her.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Every Day We Awaken
The heart the heart the heart.
What does the heart wish to say?
All we have is today.
This moment and this breath.
If you woke with breath you woke in grace.
Every day we awaken.
That is something mysterious and grand.
What does the heart wish to say?
All we have is today.
This moment and this breath.
If you woke with breath you woke in grace.
Every day we awaken.
That is something mysterious and grand.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A Knotty (yet graceful) Problem
Yesterday I was meditating about how to solve a situation...what is my part, and what is God's part? Maybe its like a knot in a rope. We can pull frantically on the ends, all the while praying/worrying/forcing, and the knot just gets tighter.
Or we can do nothing, let go, and ask God to untangle it. Barring a miracle, the knot stays tied.
Or we can do our best with our patient hands and wise hearts, and God's given breath and strength, to unravel the twists, and work them loose, gently. THEN we can let go, after we have done our part.
If we do our best, Grace does the rest.
Or we can do nothing, let go, and ask God to untangle it. Barring a miracle, the knot stays tied.
Or we can do our best with our patient hands and wise hearts, and God's given breath and strength, to unravel the twists, and work them loose, gently. THEN we can let go, after we have done our part.
If we do our best, Grace does the rest.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Not Just About Oprah
If you have read from the beginning you know this blog began with a dream about Oprah and how she saved my life.
If you came along recently, you will see that it is, of course, the Spirit, the soul, nature, intuition and dreams, art and poems, that save my life.
So this blog is really not so much about Oprah, as it is about saving graces, the things that come into our lives, remind of us ourselves, and return us to our own souls.
When I was five I peeked over a garden wall outside a green velvet yard in Seattle and saw a beautiful Asian Lady walking up the sidewalk as if floating. She was wearing a silk kimono which flowed around like colored water and had painted sticks in her upswept hair. Her beauty arrested me, and her image imprinted on my heart.
When I was ten I had a beautiful teacher who loved my poems. When I was eleven I wrote my first song. When I was seventeen I started painting. These things have come along over and over, and made me want to live...
Think about your saving graces. What are they?
If you came along recently, you will see that it is, of course, the Spirit, the soul, nature, intuition and dreams, art and poems, that save my life.
So this blog is really not so much about Oprah, as it is about saving graces, the things that come into our lives, remind of us ourselves, and return us to our own souls.
When I was five I peeked over a garden wall outside a green velvet yard in Seattle and saw a beautiful Asian Lady walking up the sidewalk as if floating. She was wearing a silk kimono which flowed around like colored water and had painted sticks in her upswept hair. Her beauty arrested me, and her image imprinted on my heart.
When I was ten I had a beautiful teacher who loved my poems. When I was eleven I wrote my first song. When I was seventeen I started painting. These things have come along over and over, and made me want to live...
Think about your saving graces. What are they?
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