To celebrate

Last weekend I gathered 

with some of my nearest and dearest

to celebrate the marriage of these good friends.

 We witnessed their commitment to each other,

 and gathered around food

 listening to those who know them best 

speak of blessing and joy.

 We took the time to enjoy the scenery,

 to be a little giddy

in time to reconnect.

Before we knew it, 

paper lanterns appeared out of nowhere 

and we worked together

 to figure them out,

 to light them up,

 to lift them into the sky,

to send them off
[praying for the right direction...].

Speaking of sending off,

 soon enough we gathered in a line

leading down to the water

 and lifted sparklers high,

to send the bride and groom

off into the night.

We made more use then,

 of our fancy dresses

and time together,

heartfelt

and fun,

full of the glow that is brought by walking through life,

in all its beautiful seasons.

Higher, Deeper; I will go

This morning I wake up, make the coffee,
stir up some cinnamon bread in the quiet and the cool.

Over and over through my mind runs a song,
insistent, a reminder:

You have called me higher,
you have called me deeper,
and I will go where you will lead me, Lord.

~~

I headed into this summer saying
"I need a break from every last thing."

I thought it was because I didn't have the capacity for life;
I'm realizing it is instead a call:
To dig deep into quiet,
to let boredom feed contentment,
to listen for the more that is Him.

An object lesson right in front of my face is this plant:

Rescued from the last house, he didn't look so good.

Leaves like dead weights, branches like sticks.

On moving day, 

we put him in the light, 

and then I let him sit.

I didn't know what kind of plant he was,

didn't know what was written into him to do.

But what used to be sticks began to change before my eyes

into living, breathing, blood-pumping vines,

reaching out for a home.

Barren branches became leafier,

then, leafier more.

Branches reaching [literally reaching] to everywhere.

I got used to this expansion,

as I stood and looked at him in early mornings,

holding onto my coffee,

amazed at his desire for new life

and his slow but steady growth. 

After a while, I stopped looking--

I figured this was it.

We dwelt in peaceful togetherness,

but I stopped seeing him.

One morning not too long ago though,

I walked past and couldn't believe my eyes.

These weird flowers had budded seemingly overnight!

"Who knew?" I cried, "who knew?!"

I rejoiced in the growth,

the unexpected growth,

and the weirdness of this plant.

But I didn't even know the half of it.

A few days later, walking past, 

I drew in my breath and gasped out loud:

"What?!"

..."What?!"

As profound as that was, 

it was all I could think to say.

Those weird little buds had burst into something new,

unfolding their precious faces

one bunch at a time.

They're a wonder to behold,

in all their fuzzy detail.

Then this nectar started to form, 

clinging;

for days it has held on,

like tears too precious to just let go.

And I stand amazed, staring in wonder

 at the long slow season,

 the more than a year that it took

for the light to do its quiet work.

~~

This morning I wake up, make the coffee,

stir up some cinnamon bread in the quiet and the cool.

Over and over through my mind runs a song,

insistent, a reminder:

You have called me higher,

you have called me deeper,

and I will go where you will lead me, Lord.

He has led me straight to quiet,

as new life opens its precious face deep inside my soul.

Done for the Summer

Last days of piano teaching mean 

listening to them play out all they've learned

and answering their bright-eyed pleading:

Can we play a game?!

'Tis a summer of peace and love

[To flourish in what is, and what is to come.]

Cottage Yard Dwelling

What's a cottage yard without some friends to share it with?

Sunday afternoon dawned sunny and breezy,

 just in time for two of my favorites to show up and camp out.

 We brought our drinks and our work out under the sun

 and talked and laughed and dwelt

in what was an altogether lovely way to spend a day.

I am listening, too.

The best way to honor him
is to trust him.

I hear this, clear as day,
as I lean over my sink to wash my face.
I feel something in my spirit give way,
new space secured for truth.

I trust you.
And may the record show.

Listen to me.

I have not seen your face,
in quite a while.

I sit here in this cottage,
rain pressing in
and sun breaking through
and I try to run but I cannot.

I sit with Him and I sit with Him
and He shows me His face
and He shows me, you.

I sit here on this porch,
feel as if I'm beginning to mold;
will these storms that scatter
with unpredictable surety
ever be through?

But I sit with Him and I sit with Him
and I see you, here, in front of me,
every child piece of the man that is you,
every long and lingering thing.

And listen to me, listen to me:
I will not stop speaking what I know to be true of you,
I will speak every strength every hope every joyful beautiful thing
into you and over you and for you and of you.

I have not seen your face,
but I see you, I see all of you,
and I will speak what I know to be true.
Look for me and listen to me;
I will not stop.