Life Becomes Visible

"LIFE" becomes visible in the hour before people begin to head to work.

 I saw a man, wearing dirty clothes that were way too large for him, struggling to ride a bike. But he peddled... and peddled ... and peddled. It was then when I noticed that he had no tire on the back wheel. Just a metal rim. Sigh.

And then, as I was picking up an iced tea for the day, the young lady at the window greeted me with a smile and "Good Morning" and sent me on my way with a "Have a blessed day." But between the smile, the good-morning, and the have-a-nice-day, I noticed the scars of healed slash marks going up the arm that reached out of the window to hand me the iced tea. Thankfully and beautifully healed.

And finally, as I made my way through the "iffy" route toward my office, I noticed the women were already out, walking the street, hoping ... just hoping for one man to stop.

Such is "LIFE" along the way at 7:00am , Monday June 25, 2018.

"Why the Reminder Now, O God?"

Why, O God,

are you reminding us

of the Holy Innocents

today?

Why, O God …

Why must we remember 

Holy Innocents again …

the beautiful children who were

ripped from their parents’ arms

at Herod’s command?

Why have you brought them

to mind?

Sigh… the thoughts

of these children

seem so misplaced

on this lovely morning.

It is 

less painful,

less sorrowful

for sure

for us to close 

our eyes

to them.

Is it because

there are still

Innocents today, O God?

In our own homes,

in our own streets,

in our own cities,

and at our own borders?

Nameless and named?

Is it because

there are still

Innocents today?

Hungry

and scared

and exhausted

and feeling hopeless?

Nameless and named?

Is it because

there are still

Innocents today?

Battered and bruised

in the very place

they call home …

confused and terrified

and facing separation

in the very place

they yearn to call home?

Nameless and named?

Why, O God …

Why must we remember

the Holy Innocents?

"Because, my child,

there are Innocents

in this world today,

and 

mothers weeping

 and

refusing to be

comforted.

There are still

Herods

 who

have both 

great power and

great fear

within them.”

“Amidst false claims

and misinterpretations

of my Words and Ways

and Love,

let me remind you ...

You did not learn 

this fear from me

nor did my Son

teach the slaughter

of the spirit 

and of the soul.

You must not forget

and you must not

look away."

"I Am the Lord of the Dance"

In the book "LILA" by Marilynne Robinson, there are these words: "In a song a note follows the one before because it is that song and not another one."

Perhaps each of our lives are songs like none other. Notes follow notes that become songs that lead into other songs in the continuing days of our lives. Lullabies ...hymns ... jigs and reels and strathspeys ... hymns ... laments ... hymns ... serenades ... hymns ... dirges .... joyous, heaven-opening hymns. We are notes followed by other notes that become songs followed by other songs - all, in their own ways, prayers. It is all good.

"I am the Lord of the Dance," said He!

"What Puzzle Piece Do You Have to Share?

Each morning I drive by the building that is painted like a puzzle.  It's in a rather sad part of town. Those I often see along the road seem to be weary, shuffling up the hill to who-knows-where or trying to get the attention of who-knows-what.  This colorful building seems so out of place in such a grey part of town.

One of the puzzle pieces on the front of this building reads "You are so loved."  I carry that reminder with me each day as I begin my day at work.  This morning the traffic had come to a standstill in front of the building so I was able to read another puzzle piece that was on the side.  The words are something like "What piece of the human puzzle do you have to share with others?"  Perhaps one flows from the other ... knowing that we are "so loved" brings with it a call to share our own piece of the human puzzle with others.  Too many are missing that "you are so loved" puzzle piece that is God-shaped.  Too many think that they have lost it forever when it is always in plain sight.

Just maybe this brightly-colored building is not only for those weary ones in a grey world but also for those of us who drive by.  May we offer a puzzle piece to someone today.

"Dripping with Grace and Love"

When I was a child, Holy Communion was neat and tidy and predictable. The bread was in tiny perfectly-shaped cubes. The juice was offered in brass trays in the tiniest of glass cups ... perfectly measured. Yes, it was neat and tidy and there was no hope of receiving more than allotted by the Communion stewards.

But now? Even this very day? A piece of bread is torn from a loaf in pieces that are never perfect nor are they small. A cup is offered and I dip the bread into the juice. I hear my name and words of remembrance. Sunday morning Communion was nourishment in portions that I needed ... messy and enough and dripping with Grace and Love. I will admit before you all that I licked my fingers after I received Communion for I wanted and needed every last drop of what was offered to me.

Wherever She Finds Herself to Be

She finds herself walking down the same street that she had walked the morning before … in the same clothes that she had worn the day before. At times, she might pause with the passing of each car and try to encourage any man to stop. I have seen her pull her shirt up as a car drove by. One morning, she was in tears as she walked down the road. Her head was down. She didn’t acknowledge the passing of any car. But this morning, she was thumbing, trying to hitch a ride in one direction. A car was heading in the opposite direction. She ran across the street, began thumbing, hoping that the car would stop. It just doesn’t seem to matter to her what direction she is heading this morning. It just doesn’t seem to matter what direction her life is taking.

It would be nothing short of a miracle if her life changed for the better today. I do pray for a miracle for her … often. For today though, I pray that she might be kept safe, wherever she finds herself to be.

"Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed!"

The birds were awake

at the mere hint of daybreak

and their songs

began to fill the air

as if to praise God

for what had been accomplished …

as if they wanted 

to be the first to shout,

“Christ is risen .. Christ is risen indeed!”

A woman whispered

his name to angels -

faith in the midst

of great darkness

was heard …

“MY LORD”.

She had seen him

beaten …

bloodied …

mocked …

crucified …

dead.

Still she whispered,

“MY LORD.”

She stood in the garden.

Through tear-filled eyes

she stared at an empty tomb.

“MY LORD.

Where have they taken him?”

His name 

has been whispered.

A presence is felt.

Another whisper

is heard - “Mary.”

Oh, such blessed whispers

in a garden -

“My Lord” …

“Mary” …

“My Father and your Father” …

“My God and your God”.

The whispers are no more!

Thank God, 

the whispers are no more!

Shouts, yes SHOUTS

are heard.

Grace and mercy flowed

down from the cross.  

Love walked out 

of a tomb.

Our names are 

whispered in a garden.

Go and tell others …

“CHRIST IS RISEN!  CHRIST IS RISEN INDEED!”