A Humble, Silent Prayer, and a Sincere Smile -

The most powerful forms of communication

When we drop to our knees
And let it all go,
Open our hearts
And let the tears flow,
Deep in our souls,
Someone listens and knows;
 
Prayer is like a rescue ship,
A boat that's waiting, moored;
When fears are overwhelming,
 When those I love are threatened,
 In quiet desperation,
I take a step aboard;
 
My Companion bids me welcome
As He reaches out His hand;
He tells me He has heard my plea,
And that He understands;
There are miracles in progress,
Things we cannot know,
But when we call out from our hearts,
There's no way that He'd say, 'no';
 
When we make the choice to push off
From our comfortable, safe shore,
When we risk being surrounded
By fears we can't ignore,
By dark waters of rejection,
Of doubts that make us question,
He reminds us that we're gifted
With a life preserving smile;
 
That when tossed with firm resolve,
To lift another from despair,
Becomes the echo of His answer,
The hope that follows prayer;
For the giver and receiver,
Both are pulled into His craft,
To rest until the waters calm,
Until the storm is past;
 
No smile left behind.

 

A Pause In Nature

I love the Fall season, when Mother Nature takes a deep breath, a pause, and calls, "Break Time!"  Then she gathers up all of the stresses of the rest of the year and lets them all go in one glorious coloured exhalation.  

 Those stresses may have been in the form of uplifting growth experiences, or the weighty regrets of our individual unique gifts that have been left un-added to life's beauty;  Add in the fears created by world events and it's no wonder that our posture becomes less than erect and our gait slower .  Then along comes Nature with her reminder to be patient with ourselves,  that the year is maturing, and so are we, as day by day we release our own amazing colours into the world, both in our speech and in our actions.

  In this season of thanksgiving, as  Autumn colours swirl around us, Let's take her lead, and exhale - just let it all go;  A humble, quiet walk can be just what the doctor ordered:

A Humble Walk, A Silent Talk

I contemplated God's beauty

As I walked in the woods;

I breathed in His peace,

And it did my heart good.

In this green sanctuary,

In soft, quiet mood,

I lowered my head,

And it did my heart good.

How many have passed here,

And paused where I stood?

I greeted their presence,

And it did my heart good.

My spirit watched humbly

As leaves gently fell,

And covered my footsteps

'Till no one could tell

That one Fall afternoon

I had come to these woods,

I had partaken peace;

It had done my heart good.

The colour of sunshine!

 This was the title of one of the pieces of music that I was listening to as I did my Tai Chi routine this morning.  I find the slow meditative pace of this exercise to be a time of deep and creative thought, and of heartfelt prayer.

Though I can't see the colour of sunshine, or the substance of prayer, I know that both are powerful communicators, and can lift our hearts and spirits.  As the sun draws warm colours from everything it touches, and gives back life-giving food to mankind and the earth, I believe that prayer, though invisible to the human eye, is viewed as a beautiful, powerful rainbow of hope by the soul which, as it is lifted, shares its own amazing colours, adding to the brightness and warmth in the world.

The colour of sunshine

Depends on its diet,

If it drinks from the ocean,

Or a lake laying quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue,

With a sparkle of green,

And its hair sometimes gleams

With a hint of marine.

While crossing a meadow,

It bounces off flowers,

It feeds on red clover,

And sends back rose showers;

It picks up blue tips

From the bluegrass, I'm told,

And to compliment dandelions

Dons its bright gold.

The colour of prayer

Depends on its diet,

If it drinks caring thoughts

From a soul that is quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue

As it soars high above,

And returns, dressed in gold,

As it echoes God's love.

The Chain

The Chain

I believe that we are being born anew every day - given another chance.

Who we are,  our essence or spirit, is in the process of becoming with each breath that we take;

our spirit does not require a diet of huge achievements - it is constantly feeding off of our attitude,  It grows more beautiful with every positive thought and accomplishment, every smiling link that we add to the whole.   With each act of kindness, we are strengthening our link in the chain of life, and feeding it the energy that it needs, to be strong for all of the other links - our parents, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, friends - all those that we hold in our hearts and who count on us.

 When the seas get rough, we can secure our vessels with that wonderful supporting chain:

Hold onto the chain,

In the midst of your pain,

Trust in the strength of each link;

Though doubts may obscure it,

Have faith and be sure, it's

Stronger by far than you think.

With great love they speak,

Each voice so unique,

Timeless, they're born yet again,

These links built of love,

Drawing strength from above,

Hand in hand forming the chain.

Go forth - Be Brave, Be Kind.

It was just a bottle of ginger ale, but I keep the memory of it in a very special room in my mind - the one that holds my small acts of bravery.

My mother passed away a few years ago now; One day, as I was leaving the hospital room where she spent an unfortunate part of her last years, I listened to a conversation taking place between a male nurse and the patient in the bed next to Mom's.  That lady's illness had affected her personality and she had become very difficult to deal with.  She was demanding a drink of ginger ale, which the poor nurse did not have access to.  As I got into the elevator and headed downstairs, I heard that voice in my heart speaking up: "A ginger ale from the machine downstairs would make two people happy right now - that  distressed patient, and the nurse who was trying to cope with more patients than he should have had to handle."   I fought my way past the cowardly voice of 'It's not your problem, Edie', and for the minimal price of $1.00, I turned around and brought that struggling lady, and the surprised, grateful nurse a gift - a bright shiny bottle of ginger ale!

It takes courage to perform an act of kindness, even one as small as the gift of a bottle of ginger ale.   The rewards go far beyond the immediate action - I can still feel the effervescent bubbles that welled up inside of me, causing me to thank God for allowing me to help someone even in this small way.  They carried me, and made my footsteps a lot lighter than they had been when I left Mom's bedside - The real gift was actually given to me.

Borrowing a line from Cinderella's mother:  'Have courage and Be kind'!

Counting To Ten!

 

So, there I was, holding up a bank this morning - ?

Actually, what I was holding up was a repository - of countless prayers, my mother's prayers, as I picked up her rosary this morning.  Prayer beads have been used in many religions for centuries - the word being derived from the old English noun 'bede' meaning prayer, and while there is no power in the beads themselves, they can be a valuable tool in meditative prayer.  It is what the beads absorbed from my mom's hands that gave them their value - the warmth of her love and simple faith as she hung onto those beads and poured her heart out.  Holding onto the rosary was like holding onto a lifeline for mom - a rope of beads strung together in groups of ten that helped to keep her life in order - counting to ten can be not only a mom's powerful threat, but also her private salvation.

Her prayer beads were an instrument  that she had learned to play very well.  I can remember her taking out her rosary, closing her eyes, and softly beginning to pray as soon as she heard of someone in the family needing help.  If you were present, you automatically added your voice, your prayer, your 'bede' to her sincere faith-filled ones.

 She could be depended on to hang that rosary out on the clothesline for each wedding or special outdoors event; an outward sign and challenge to the weatherman to dare defy the work that she put into making sure that the beads were fully charged with fresh prayers.  And although we inwardly smiled and joked about this, I can't remember a time that her challenge was met with anything more than a few sprinkles of rain - not all of the drops had gotten the memo! 

 Perhaps it is the same way with other mementos that our loved ones have worn or used countless times - we hold on, with respect, to favourite pieces of clothing or jewellery, dishes or cups, but what is special about a mother's instrument of prayer, whether it is a well-worn rosary, a set of knitting needles, or a daily journal, is that it has been a confidant, sharing her innermost struggles, hopes, fears, and a whole pile of her concentrated love.  So, I will continue to pick up those beads as I pray for all who are in my heart;  

Don't make me count to ten - because I will!  That's not a threat - It's a promise!