"Floating ... and Crashing"

There was a stoplight,
a large intersection,
a square piece of cardboard,
an early morning breeze
and me.

The cardboard was lifted
from the ground by the breeze.
It began to dance lightly in the air,
floating up and dipping down.
It flipped end over end
and raced in front of me
as if it was a square tire.

Then the morning's breeze ceased
and the cardboard sadly floated
to the middle of the intersection.
It fell onto the hood of a moving car
and then onto the road.
I noticed words scribbled on it ...
"WILL WORK FOR FOOD."
Car after car sped over it,
leaving tire tracks on the words.

It was then when I wondered
about the person
who had written the words.
Who was this person?
Where was this person?

What changed this life
from one that once danced
joyfully and lightly on the
cool breezes of their days
to the life that found the need
to write such words
and hold this cardboard
along the roads of life?

Who was this person
who was much like
the cardboard
that he or she once held ...
floating one moment
in full view
and invisible the next?

The light turned green
and yet for a moment
I didn't move ...
I couldn't move
for I found myself praying.

(c) anna murdock

"The Kingdom of God is Like ..."

(Please read Mark 4:26-34)


The little boy
with a missing front tooth
and the blackest of black hair
(that was quite uncontrollable)
said to his mother,
“I need a few seeds
and some wet paper towels.”

The mother called
neighbor and relatives and friends
and found seeds.
They didn’t know what kind
and they hoped
that they weren’t too old
to sprout
(although they looked too old).

The little boy
wet the paper towels
and sandwiched
the tiny, begged-for seeds
between them …
and then he went to bed.

The next morning,
the little boy with ‘bed-head’
stumbled and yawned
his way to the seeds
that he so carefully
tucked into their own ‘bed’
of soggy paper towels
just before their bedtime
and his, the night before.

The child’s mother saw
his disappointment
and noticed the worry lines
on his brow.
In a soft voice, she said,
“You have done what you are to do.
That is enough, my beloved child.
The seed will sprout and grow.”

And so, he did
as the one who loved him most
had asked of him …
He would sleep and rise …
night and day.
He would wait
and trust
and hope
and allow
for a great mystery
that would sprout
from a child’s homework
and a little water.

“What is this all about?”
the little boy with unruly hair
and a missing-tooth-smile asked.
“It is such a mystery to me,
this little sprout,”
he exclaimed one morning.

As he looked for answers,
the beloved child heard words
from the one who loved him
more than life itself.
“The kingdom of God is like ….”

"In Darkness and Silence"

I awoke very early this morning,
for no apparent reason.
Like a child, I slipped out of bed,
carrying my pillow
and dragging my blanket behind me
into the dark, dark living room.

I sat,
hugging my pillow,
my blanket covering me,
my toes cold.
In this darkness
where there was not one piece of light
and in the silence,
where strangely not one bird was singing.
I wondered if this is what it feels like
to be empty of all worship.

Darkness and silence.
A nothingness.
Ah, but what is that I hear?
Is it a bird’s song?
A single bird, gloriously singing?
And is that a small bit of light
piercing the darkness of predawn?
Now, oh my, the birds are singing
in full chorus!

Even in darkness and silence,
there is the promise of worship
waiting to sing …
waiting for us to see
in yet another day
that God has indeed come into our lives!

And it was night …
and it was morning ..
and it is good!

"Reminders on this Good Friday"

The weather is like it always is on Good Friday ... or so says my mother. "There will be moments in this day when the clouds roll in. There will be dreariness and rain." I have heard this since my early childhood years and have grown to look toward the skies on Good Friday. I think that I shall do this every Good Friday for as long as I live. Yes, it is cold and rainy and dreary this morning. I need to remind myself ... "It's Friday, but Sunday is coming. It's Friday, but Sunday is coming. It's Friday, but Sunday is coming." That is our faith, my friends ... "It's Friday, but Sunday is coming!"

May you not weep alone on this Good Friday.  May God hold you steady at the foot of the cross.

Anything But Routine

Sunday, we left our palm branches
on the pews
and stopped shouting "Hosanna!".

Monday was just that ...
... a Monday with its same old routines.

Yesterday, people milled about
as if this week would prove
to be like last week.
No different.

But this week IS different ....
An upper room is being prepared.
A betrayal is in the final stages of planning.
Intimate prayers will soon be heard.
A command to 'remember' will be demonstrated.
Feet will be washed by the Servant.
Hands will be washed by one in power ...
washed to remove responsibility.
Disciples will fall asleep as Jesus prays.

Soon, there will be a kiss -
a kiss that will ultimately move us
to the foot of the cross
and finally to the victory
of an empty tomb.

This week is anything but routine.

O God, help us to walk together through this week as faithful, wide-awake disciples. Amen.

"A Nicodemus Moment"

(John 3:14-21)


She sat in a darkened sanctuary
  expecting little
  yet hoping for much.
She sat in a darkened sanctuary
  alone …
and then Light walked in,
  uninvited and unannounced,
  whispering, “For God so loves you….”

Her heart beat faster
  as she heard that
God had loved her in her ‘befores’ …
… before she asked for this Love,
… before she admitted to
       needing this Love,
… before she sought to
       understand such a Love,
… before she realized that she
       wanted this Gift of Love.

"Here I Am, Such as I Am"

(Ash Wednesday)

Here I am, such as I am ...
Imperfect.
Weak.
Broken.
In need of forgiveness.
In need of your Presence.

Here I am, such as I am ...
Confessing.
Repentant.
Hopeful.
Listening.

Here I am, such as I am ...
Willing to be melted
and molded.
Wanting a newly created
pure heart.

Here I am, such as I am ...
Branded with a mark...
your unmistakable mark.

Lead me, O God,
walk with me
in these 40 days....
walk with me always.

Amen.