Ebenezer's Cry

I heard old Ebenezer cry,

"Let me do some good before I die!"

That truth rang out,

It jarred my heart,

Why wait till the end

Before you start?

Let me do something good

Where I am today,

In small acts of kindness

 That come my way;

Let my heart reach out

And meet the  demands

In the eyes of the needy,

Not just in their hands;

For a penny put in an outstretched hand,

Cannot bring the healing

That a kind word can;

The joy in that healing

Is a wonderful gift;

That true Christmas spirit,

Has the power to lift,

To lead us to wonder,

To  answer  love's cry,

"Feed me with kindness and I'll never die!"

The Presence Of Love

From "The Shack" - 'He is especially fond of you'.

We don't choose the gifts that we have been given,

Any more than we want those we love to choose the gifts we give them,  We hope that we know that person well enough to choose something that they will appreciate.

It is up to us to choose to say thank you for those gifts,

And we do that as we hope our loved ones will do:

by welcoming them with joy, opening them up excitedly, and finding out how to use them; Then, with a huge smile,  in  sharing them with others.

And that's what our Father rejoices in;  Don't rain on God's parade!

When life presses down hard,

When your spirit's been scarred,

And you're left feeling scared and alone ,

Just leave it all there,

Leave that weight to His care,

For He's only one teardrop away;

There's a hand on your shoulder,

A kiss on your forehead;

You are held in the grip of His love;

He raises you up,

And enfolds you so dearly,

Touches your heart,

And lets you know clearly

That you are totally precious today.

There's a tiny child in each of us,

Feeling lost and incomplete,

Though our original hearts  are still intact,

Irreplaceable pulses  in God's heartbeat,

We still keep trying way too hard

To be all that we can be,

Not realizing that we already are;

And that God is especially fond of us!

I've been robbed!  - Yes!

At this time of year, with Thanksgiving still in the air, I've been off on a nostalgia trip -  looking at pictures of my children, grandchildren, family and old friends, and It suddenly dawned on me that they have been robbing my heart, bit by bit.  Actually, they have been offering me fair trade:  tiny pieces of each of their hearts have become indelibly etched into my own, and they are not here for the short-term, but will be staying forever.

We are part of a much larger picture that goes back generations; the little child, that is still in me, remains a part of my parents, siblings, children's and friends' lives forever, and the reverse is also true;

That thought challenges me to fulfill my potential as far as I can - If I'm giving away pieces of my heart, I want to make sure that they are well-polished, and the best that I can offer.

-  so many pieces of so many hearts - how lucky are we!

What  wonder just touched me,

From where did it start,

This déjà vu feeling

That's stirring my heart;

It crept up within me,

It knocked on my door,

And I bid it to enter,

As I'd done times before;

A memory intense,

Danced forth like a child,

Pushed passed the worries,

Then surfaced and smiled;

It played in my mind,

Then too soon it was gone,

A poem unfinished,

A nostalgic sweet song,

But another was waiting,

To visit or stay,

To lift up my heart,

To brighten my day;

From deep in my core,

He reassured me,

"I've got this,

No worries,

 Just leave it with me."

Autumn - a time to slow down and notice all of the elements of the Great Composer's works:

Yesterday, as I headed off on my walk down to the river, I slowed my pace and began to take note of all the little wonders around me.  I hadn't put on my 'little boots' in quite a while and it proved very rewarding.   I took deep breaths and filled my lungs with the smells of Autumn; ripening crops, grasses and flowers  ... and fish?    Coming down the path towards me was  an unexpected  wonder - a young mink came barrelling up the path towards me and almost went head over heels making an abrupt stop; I could almost hear his "Whoa!!"    Apparently, he was a regular customer or should I say, recycler, checking out the discarded fish left by fishermen along the bank.    He took a detour around me down the length of the riverbank, stopping every once in awhile to sit up and check me out, and I took time out to just stand and watch him.  I was filled with a special feeling of joy in being noticed by this free spirit.

As I neared our street on the way home, my little boots must still have been showing; coming down the street towards me were three young boys on bicycles, and as they passed me they each in turn held up a hand for a 'high five!'   They were playing a game to see how many of the people they encountered would respond to their invitation.   Once more, I felt a special joy in being included in the play of these free spirits!

Autumn's Call To Rest

The great Conductor

Takes up his baton,

A silence fills the air;

He calls for a rest,

Which is sometimes the best

Of all sounds to a hopeful ear;

Autumn stands at attention,

Mother Nature takes her cue,

As the Great Composer's work takes form,

In colours of every hue,

He begins with a gentle adagio,

Setting the perfect pace,

Stepping up to lead the others,

As the players take their place;

Each element of life comes in

At their appointed time,

Adding their sweet harmony,

To a song of wordless rhyme;

From andante to allegro,

The symphony builds and grows,

In colours and sounds and sights profound,

To crescendo as Nature glows!

And we with our gifts, our colours,

Are invited to take our place,

To stand at attention and listen,

Then to sing with strength and  grace,

And to heed the request,

To wait for the best,

The song is not finished,

But merely at rest.

A Wonder Refill

A Wonder Refill!

Wonder is always there, but it tends to whisper, not like that loud bully, worry, that likes to get all the attention.   There are many reasons and endless subjects for me to worry about; worry is in fact a very greedy taskmaster, and I am, unfortunately, one of its better students.    I'm sure that like many of you, I am under the assumption that my worrying is serving some purpose, like....?    Let me see - It's bad for my blood pressure, makes my head ache and my body slouch, and is unnoticed by those that I am worrying about.

I can really find no discernible benefit, except maybe for the fact that it drives me to write or pray or get in touch with someone who is on my mind.  I suppose that if I didn't care so much, I wouldn't worry so much, but  I think that perhaps those on the receiving end of my writing, praying, or concerned thinking, would encourage me to stop worrying.  I'm sure that they would  much prefer to hear good news, encouraging words, gratitude and laughter coming out of my mouth. 

I wrote the following poem in a moment of longing for a chance to shed my adult worry shoes and feel the wonder - like little children at play do.   An actual swing may not be part of the equation, but with Summer warmth finally here, I can certainly conjure up memories, and enjoy  the breeze on my face and the lift in my breath and in my heart - so  grab your inner child and enjoy;  every moment invested in wonder is a powerful way to put life back into perspective!

When I was young,

A little child,

Each day was filled

With wonders;

As I grew older,

Day by day,

My worries pushed them under;

But wonder,

In its wondrous way,

Has offered me

A chance,

To shed my worries,

Just let go,

Reverse the aging dance;

I step into a time warp,

And feel my spirit lift;

In keen anticipation,

That catch within my breath,

A lovely tree,

An empty swing,

I hold on tight

And then,

I close my eyes

And feel the breeze -

I'm five years old again!

All Is Well In The End!

Grandparents' Day is approaching again - September 8th.  In gratitude and humility, I share a few words, some 'wisdom' that I have realized over the course of my rapid journey of nearly 71 years:

In the end, we are who we are, with all of our unique imperfections, but also with the immense potential that resides within us, waiting to be asked to come forward.  We are largely unknown to ourselves; the face that we see in the mirror each morning hides behind it someone that wants to meet us and be included in our day.  Usually, it gets overlooked or covered up with makeup of various kinds, as we look past its expectant and hopeful gaze, and try to form it into some version of ourselves that we think is expected or will be accepted by the world out there.  When we are lucky enough to receive gifts from our grandchildren, or from anyone,  let us remember that there is still a little child dwelling within each of us, waiting and hoping that his gift will be loved. 

Every Word, Every Action Matters!

I made one mark upon a page,

It grew into a word,

Then others came in twos and threes,

Emerged from unknown station,         

Responding with elation

To the voice that they had heard;

They joined hands in a sentence,

 then a paragraph, a rhyme,

A soliloquy, a story, a 'Once upon a time',

Each mark an inspiration,

Adding to a thought  sublime,

And I their humble servant,

Gave thanks for every line.

Words - when we send them flying into the world on the wings of a smile, how uplifting and encouraging a gift they can be to others!

Guardian Of The Light

Guardian of the Light

You can hope, and dream

Of what might have been,

Or reach for a lofty goal,

But you can't miss something

That you've never seen,

That has never held you, touched your soul;

Every life begins in light,

A unique and brilliant flame,

Yet, we long for reassurance

From the Source from whence we came,

We know that there is something more

Than what our senses tell,

And we search the world around us

For the pearl within the shell;

We spend our lives in longing

For that pure and perfect light,

For Its peace that once enfolded us,

A voice just out of sight,

That spoke our names in love, held our souls.

As time passes by, and our light outgrows us,

Our journey takes us backwards,

And at the same time forwards,

Towards where love and light will come full circle,

Pulling us into itself, enfolding us once more.

Let your soul remember and revisit that light;

Your very own unique source of loving kindness;

You are its guardian,

You alone have the power to share your light with others,

Your efforts and your choice alone

Will determine how far down the path your light will shine.

My soul is restless until it rests in You.  -  St. Augustine

From My Nothingness

Every moment of our lives has potential, whether we realize it or not; We each contain our own candle, our own given light.  Alone it may be very small, but added to the light from others' candles it becomes part of an exquisite prism; Without our candle, that prism loses wonderful points of colour.  All that is asked of us is to give, with love and sincerity each day, whatever is in us to give - our light will find its path. 

From My 'Nothingness'

I sat on the stoop beside Leonard Cohen,

And no words came;  I wrote, "I got nothing."

Leonard winked at me and said, "Excellent!"

"Now you are ready to write;

Give away the wisdom in your nothingness."

Wisdom in my nothingness?

Not feeling any wisdom right now,

Only a helplessness, a powerlessness,

And a lot of other 'lessnesses';

No brilliant, flashing inspirations,

Only a deep, silent desire breathing through me.

Where would my desire's breath go if I loosed it,

If I gave my hands into its hands,

If I let it do the writing?

Inspiration is a wonder-filled, out-of-body experience;

I have nothing - yet in that moment, I receive everything,

Everything that I truly need;

As my soul beckons it,

It picks up my hands,

Hands that simply hold the pen,

And it writes, without presumption;

Presumption comes from our human hearts' fears and desires;

The Spirit has no such presumptions,

But has faith in us,

Knows and Loves us for who we are,

Speaks encouragement to us from its larger heart.

When Jesus bent down and wrote on the ground,

What did He write?

He wrote not on paper,

But into the earth

He imprinted His heart's breath,

His inspiration,

And with His great love,

He fills our littleness, our nothingness.

"Hineni! Hineni!  Here I am Lord"

In Dreams - Be Not Afraid

In Dreams

"In Dreams I walk with you,

In Dreams I talk with you."   - Roy Orbison

Many of us will have had the experience of feeling the presence of a loved one who has passed away - even to the point of catching a familiar or exotic scent.  There is so much more to this life than we can ever comprehend.  So, whether we are just remembering in a very visceral way that soul or whether they are possibly wanting to communicate something to us is beyond our actually knowing.  Sometimes we perceive these moments as a comforting hand on our shoulder, a kiss on our forehead, a prayer for our strengthening.  In this positive dream-filled light, I wrote the following:

In Dreams - Be Not Afraid

I had a dream

The other night,

A visit from a friend,

A vision so intense and real

And as close as we had been,

There was something more

In how she looked

That I could not comprehend;

Her laughter filled

The atmosphere,

She seemed without a care,

And though I reached

To touch her hand,

I only touched the air,

Still, I caught a fragrance rare;

In soft but brilliant lightness,

In and out of view she went

And I wondered  as I drifted off,

Did I call, or was she sent;

It settled all around me,

That smile I knew so well,

And lifted my own spirit,

As back to sleep I fell;

I still can feel that warmth of hope,

That brief reunion gift;

Each morning now, it wakes with me

And brings a welcome lift

That I humbly try to pass along,

In small but smiling ways,

Little bits of sunshine

To brighten others' days,

And let them know, "You are not alone,

- Be not afraid."

A Coat Of Many Colours  

               

The world's population is growing by immense proportions, and it is easy to fall into a negative frame of mind as we wonder how we can ever handle the  stewardship of this home of ours, called Earth.  We can either look at this growth  with fear, focusing on man's negative effect on the planet,  or we can look at it in hope as we recognize the unique beauty and potential in each life. 

The homeless person on the street may not live up to our perceived notion of what a contributing member of society should be; his language and appearance may offend, but as we all know, appearances can be deceiving;  We may never be able to see the many beautiful coloured threads that have come unravelled in that person's life, but the gift of a smile and a kind word may provide the first stitch that will start his or her coat to mending;

Though God's creation is vast, each of us is a priceless thread in His great tapestry, and though blue is my favourite colour, if God used only blue threads, what a boring canvass that would be.

 If we let fear of losing what we perceive to be ours by divine or earned  right take precedence, and try to block all others from our door, it is like trying to keep the sky from changing colour;  we would be the losers in the end;

Past The Blue

It's my blue sky,

So pure and blue,

There's nothing else

That shines so true,

I hope it lasts forever!

A bit of red

Is creeping in,

Changing blue

To violet  hue;

But never mind,

I like it fine,

It really looks quite clever;

Some yellow hues

Have joined the red,

And turned to

Brilliant gold instead;

I didn't think I'd like it but

It really is outstanding!

And when it touches

My blue sky,

A green so bright

Lights up the sky

And makes a scene enchanting;

That sky that I

Perceived as blue,

Was so much more

Than my small view,

Its beauty has a depth so vast,

A sea forever changing;

Every life contributes

A thread of priceless hue,

Unraveled lives we chance may meet,

Without them we are not complete;

Each time we add them to our blue,

God says, "Yes, that's brilliant!"

One More Cup Of Tea

On a cold and blustery day, such as today, when the Winter Blahs are beating at my door, thoughts of warmth in its many forms can be the perfect answer to that annoying knocking;   As I mature in age and, hopefully, in wisdom, I still find it satisfying to occasionally reach back into my childhood days, bring out that rebellious, often-used retort, and say to time,

"You're not the boss of me!"   I figure I still have one more cup of tea;

One More Cup Of Tea

I may have lost a little steam,

A little of my zing,

But there's still a cup inside of me,

One delicious cup of tea,

That might be just the thing

For someone who has dropped their cup,

Whose pot of hope has all dried up,

Can't make their kettle sing.

I still have hopeful little drops,

Some smiles I've kept to share,

There's laughter waiting to pop up,

To add some bubbles to their cup,

Some warm and pleasant fare;

Some bits of sunshine,

Sips of Spring

That I've infused with care;

For tiny cups of kindness are

The humblest of guests;

They don't intrude on solitude,

They're sensitive and never rude,

They understand that listening

Is the sweetener that is best;

A cup of hope, so sweet and fine's

The best of partners anytime,

Perhaps the perfect Valentine!