I need some
quiet...
the kind of
silence
that
penetrates
deep
beneath the
self
beneath
the one you see,
the one
that
screams and claws
for
a voice,
attention,
recognition...
I need to put her
in time out
and
not give in...
because the
true me,
...the one who knows there
is no
real answer
but the
one that comes
from within...
from within
the
silence of a silent
heart....
needs...
not wants,
wishes for,
imagines,
or hopes...but needs
to be quiet
needs to
cast off from
the
familiarity of
her own
"voice"
and drift into
the middle,
the core,
the center of
her stillness...
she needs to
be quiet...
really,
really
quiet...
sshh....
you can do this...
"In every house where I come,
I will enter only for the good of others..."
- Hippocrates
Why are you
here?
She asks from behind
the veiled
mask of
suspicious
distrust,
and fear of judgment...
Are you here to tell me
what I should be
doing,
thinking,
handling
differently...or better?
If you are....
But,
I am not.
I am not
here to tell her
what I think she
has forgotten to remember,
to suggest
a tack that
I might take,
a text I might turn to,
a treatment to begin,
or someone
to call....
I am here to
"do no harm..."
I am here for the
"good of others..."
I am here to
advocate...
for her.
I bring with me no opinions,
no judgment,
no "if only you'd have..."
suggestions of
what she could have done.
I can only know those
things for myself.
I am here to
help,
as support,
to offer a hand,
a common humanity...
to be tenderly solicitous,
ineffably kind,
pitifully patient,
to lead with my heart....
always with my heart...
not a trial,
a theory,
my research,
a dogma,
a system,
a second opinion,
a book, or a
regime....
Those things may be what
she
later
asks me to
bring to the bedside...but
my love is not
conditional
on what she decides, and only if
it matches my own
beliefs
in fact,
her choices are none of my
business...
my business is
to love...
I am here to
"do only good..."
and so,
"here i stand,
I can do no otherwise;
so help me God..."
here I stand,
on her threshhold
hoping she
will trust the purity of my
motives...
I am here to serve...
I have no
conditions of service,
no rigid outline
of what I will...or will not do
I am listening
and right now,
I simply know,
I must "do no harm"
For the wisdom
it takes to know what
that will look like...each moment...
I pray....
"who did sin,
this man, or his parents,
that he was born blind..."
it is too much
to bear
this weight of
blame
they keep asking the same question,
but it is
the one I live
with night
and day....but mostly
in the night
what did I do?
what could I have done
differently?
was it something I ate?
was it
the argument we had on the
night he was
concieved?
was it the love we made
under the stars,
the pleasure we found in
eachother's laughter
that
first day in the market when
I bought
olives from his
table....
it could not be the boy's
fault...he was
born
blind
he'd yet to have a moment
in which to
sin
before his sight was
taken from him....
it had to be someone's fault
our God is
a good God,
He is a loving God,
a God of mercy,
a God who led our people
out of
captivity in Egypt
and fed them
manna in
the wilderness...
so if it is not the boy's
sin...
it must be ours....
and if this is the case
I am shattered,
inconsolable,
broken with
sorrow and
regret....
but wait,
there is another
in the
street...
it is the one they
talk about
in the temple
the marketplace,
at the well...
he is coming,
and they are asking him the
question....
he seems
tired and frustrated...
he, too, must wonder
who we
are...that our
son
was born this way...
but,
what is that he's doing
now,
spitting on the ground
and making
mud with
his fingers in the dust....
he is touching our
son,
touching his eyes with the
clay and
asking him to
wash in the pool called
"sent"
and he comes,
here comes our son,
and he is
seeing...
my son is
seeing...
and I see too...
it wasn't about his birth,
or being born...
but being borne...
we all believe we are being
born into this world
by random acts of
circumstance or chance,
borne on the winds of human choices
or personal decision-making,
carried along blindly on
the haunting
strains of self-interest,
determination, or
luck...
that we are
dancing,
swaying,
keening to
its
music like
marionettes on
the strings of
a
cruel
puppeteer...
I played my part...
regret,
sorrow,
blame,
guilt...
our son, accepted his role...
victim,
such a sad story,
whispered innuendo,
the son of
sinners....
but this Master has clipped the strings
and we are free...
freely moving,
we are not borne blindly
we are sent,
sent into each moment
with every opportunity
to manifest the works of
God...
never sinners,
never separated from Him...
sent,
knowingly,
willingly,
purposefully
by His
hand....
sent...
never borne blindly,
he was
always sent...
I too,
have been sent....
"Master, this woman
was taken in adultery,
in the very act..."
they pulled her out of
school that day,
lipstick smeared,
skirt
too short and
twisted,
the hot pink lace of her
barely-there
bra peaking out
from a small tear in her
blouse...
caught in the
boys' locker room,
in the very act...
but where were the boys
the ones she'd
been with...
"oh they were
her victims"
they said under hot
angry eyes....
she lured them...you know...
why should they suffer the
embarassment of
being seen in this light,
we've taken them out
the back door....
we'll talk to
them later...
did you see
that pink bra?"
but where
are the other boys
the ones who called there,
who dialed
her cell phone as
a prank.
and what
about the other boy,
the one she liked,
the one
who
said he'd "always
wanted to get to know her...you know,
just to talk"
she wondered that
day, as she walked alone
along the quiet path,
was it
because she was interesting?
it had been his idea to
meet at the gym
"it's quiet there and
we could bring our lunch
instead of eating in
the cafeteria"
she'd thought
"it's just like....
from a movie"
but it wasn't..
it wasn't like that at all...
didn't they see...
the
administrators,
teachers and
parents standing outside
the gym that day, the grownups
shaking their heads,
hands on
hips, and their own
"perfect" daughter's picture
safely tucked in the
framed pocket of
their wallet...
didn't they
know
she'd been tricked,
manipulated,
fallen for the maybe "promise" of friendship,
acceptance,
love....
that's all she really wanted
you know...
the price too
high...
did they ask
her why,
did they even want to know?
not really...
they had the evidence
right in front of them...and
well...
it already added up
she was
observed,
witnessed,
found out,
taken
from the
gym...
in the very act?
he was
just a boy...
rough around the
edges,
a bit of a
loner...
but, this was the
last straw...
he was caught red-handed
the scent from five
soft green buds still
fragrant after sitting closed up
in
a ziploc baggie
under the hot sun of
a summer morning
in June
they all knew he was
trouble,
they'd felt it from
the start
the clothes,
the music,
no parents, just a grandmother
who didn't
watch him carefully enough....
tsk, tsk..
but did they
listen
when he told them
the truth,
that it helped her with the
pain,
made it bearable...
it wasn't for
him...it was for her...really
he was
her only hope
of getting
through
the constant pain,
the loneliness of growing old,
the welfare checks that were
never enough,
and now he'd lost it all...
his job,
his reputation,
his
own hope
that
maybe
he was more
than
they thought....
and and in light of
all this "evidence,"
they were right...of course...
they'd caught
him red-handed, with the "stuff"
he'd been
taken into custody...in the
very act...
but
sometimes
two,
plus two,
doesn't add
up to what we
think it
should...
it
isn't always
as simple
as
being caught
red-handed...
in the very act....
we have to
have
the wisdom of
Solomon,
the willingness to
listen...
really listen...
and then...
it takes a
scientist,
a mathematician,
a man of
stillness to continue
writing in the sand...
to look at things
from another
angle,
a different point of view...
to work out
the equation in
such a way,
that two,
plus two...
equals
five
2 + 2 = 5 (.80)
and then
to
help correct
the error in
their factoring...
to help them
work out from
a different
starting point....
one that
sees oneself and
others
as
whole,
undivided,
undiminished,
not needing to
compensate,
settle,
bargain,
compromise..
always
having,
expecting
seeing...from the
staring point of
being whole
not less...
never less
than
All-in-all...
where every
equation is just another
opportunity
to
love...
I know I am
almost home now...
canyons
echo my coming,
and
wild irises
drink
greedily
along the
shimmering
path of a summer
brooklet
a thread of silver
that runs wildly through
the high meadows of
south park's
endless valley floor...
they share the
water with
antelope and a painted
mustang filly
skitterish and wild-eyed with
the boldnes of her own daring,
with cattle and
the occasional badger
making his way
from here to there...
each rivelut
a swath of diamonds
carved into the
dusty green of
sage and
earth so
dry it aches to be
near her...
the wild irises
live in the
bend of her arm
and
thrive
like hungry
newborns
blue
eyes staring
up into
the unclouded face
of
an endless
Colorado sky...
[the above painting, "Wild Irises," is by Denver artist, Kit Hevron Mahoney. To visit her website click on her name.
I do not have a father with
whom to celebrate
a day in june,
someone to share a daddy-daughter
dance with,
or teach me how to
budget...
I do not have
a papa,
a gentle dad upon whose
lap I sat and
dreamed of being a princess...
or taught me how to
identify the
silhouettes of birds in flight...
but,
I have discovered that...
I do have a Father who
loves me without measure,
I have a Father who
moves me to tears,
I have a Father who thinks of
me every moment, of every minute, of
every hour, of every day, of every week,
of every month, of every year, of every decade,
of every century, of every millenia, of every
second of eternity...
and for all those years that I had no one to
purchase cards,
...filled with tender sentiments...
for,
for every June I wept in silence for all
that I would never know...
I now realize that
I always
had an inner knowing
a deep unbidden
fullness, a constant, conscious certainty that
I was not alone...I felt Him in those moments
when wisdom came as a surprise,
when I said, "no," and meant it, when I felt
beautiful and knew it was the truth, when I defended
my purity and dared the world to cross the line
because He had my back...
I may never have had someone who would
look a boy in the eye and
demand he treat me with respect,
but I have a Father in whose
eyes I am
lovely...
and as the eyes of
His "I AM"
stare back at me from the mirror
and
assure me I am good and dear,
beloved and holy
in
His sight....
I feel His hand in mine
and face the day...
and with Him,
for Him,
because of Him,
I celebrate Father's Day
every moment,
of every hour,
of every day....
and always will...
"whither thou goest,
i will go,
thy people shall be my people,
and thy God, my God..."
- Ruth
But why
would you follow me?
Why would you
willingly subject yourself to
this,
why would you
go where
you are a
sranger,
a foreigner...
I will not be able to
protect you
from the stares,
the speculation,
the "i wonder if...."
and "did you hear..."
gossip
that
you might
feel from the moment
we
enter the
city gate....
you are not one of
them...
of us...
you are not one of the
"chosen people"
so, why...?
oh mother, but I am...chosen...
your son chose me
but more importantly,
that is not the point...
your God is a God of impartial and
universal Love...
so, how does a God whose love is
without patiality
align with
"choosing"
isn't choosing
contrary to impartiality...
nonetheless,
I am not waiting to be chosen,
i am strong
I am the one doing the choosing
and I choose your God...and you...
this is what you have
taught me...
to choose to live my life
with Him
at the center...
to choose to live after His example of loving,
of caring for all His
children...
including you...
I will never be a stranger
in His kingdom,
under His roof,
with His people....
all my brothers and sisters
all having
a common
Parent who loves us all...
impartially,
universally,
unconditionally...
Your God,
is my God...
now,
let's go home...
"Thou to whose power
our hope we give..."
- Mary Baker Eddy
It's all Yours
every tiny shred...
all the bits and
pieces,
the flotsam and jetsam
wants,
I've gathered like
stars
into a constellation of
dreams
all the "please, dear God"
and
"if only" desires
I've kept hidden in the
treasure chest of
my secret
wishing
my hopes for the future are there,
for wiser choices,
more stillness,
quiet listening and growth in grace,
too...
for what I wonder
if I might,
someday
be,
with Your hand in
mine...
a purpose unfolded
a mission clearly seen
a vision shared
the hopes I've
thought were mine alone,
now echo in the chambers of what's
deep within me,
and are suddenly heard
as Your voice,
Your preparation
of my
heart,
Your desire
for all that
You
want me to be,
to cherish,
embrace...
hope:
the threads of Your
plan for me...
golden threads that
weave themselves into
a tapestry,
a story written in
strands of virgin blue and
the softest shades of
sky and sea...
I'd give them to You,
to shuttle
in and out of my days and nights,
the warp and weft
of my living...
but,
these hopes and
dreams,
wishes and desires...
aren't they already
Yours...
promises you've
shared with me,
while still
sitting in the
deep space of
Your hands?
they have never
been mine to
hold,
own,
possess,
decide about, or
choose whether to
cherish...
and I
no longer
self-deluded
by
the mind that
thinks it
dreams its
own story...
I
open my hands and
in letting go
of all that says I am
a dreamer,
I
watch a million
flecks of dissolving,
shattered,
self-determined
stardust dreams...
light
the path that
You have
laid before
me...
my hopes
are
Your promises...
please...
do not
show me sympathy...
it will not be
what I need most
today when
the winds of self
rage,
screaming that life
is not fair and
i don't deserve whatever
injustice or hurt
is tearing
at my poise and
shattering
my heart....
do not say
you understand...
please do not say that
it's
okay if
I am angry,
hurt,
sad....
this is not what
I need from you...
i need to stay
in the space of grace
i need the courage to say
"no" to
any voice that
offers
sympathy
i am staying here
i will not come down and
be comforted
it will only suck me into the
vortex of
self...and this is
fatal to
my loving
so,
if you have anything to
give,
i hope it is
your conviction that
I am
like my Father,
that I am His daughter
filled with
grace...
unmoved by the
earthquake of heartache,
the winds of emotion,
the fire of heated words...
I am still,
still loving,
still certain,
still willing,
still
still
still
like a lake
at dawn...
still like
a cloudless
Colorado
morning
still
like a changeless constellation
hanging
from a navy
velvet
night sky
still like
Him...
still poised,
still peaceful,
still sure of
His love
filling me,
stilling my heart...
still
[photo credit: Kristen Oyer 2011]
"oh these vast, calm
measureless mountain days,
opening a thousand windows
to God..."
- J. Muir
there's a
place I love...
deep in the silent sanctuary
of a wooded
glade...
a place
where
the air is not heavy with
regret
but spiced with
forgivenss and grace...
it is as if every
tree,
leaf,
beast, and
flower are
exhaling the sweet,
sleepy, infant
mewings of
mercy,
understanding,
goodness
and
love....
each breath
a soft
gift of
compassion and grace
perfuming the air with
the redolent
breath of God
and
who am I
to
walk among
them
who am I
to
take in the heady
scent of
Spirit
and swoon with
rapture
in
His kingdom
to feel the grass beneath
my feet
rise, and yet rise
in humble
service to His guests
of which
I am most
blessed
oh, to drape myself
along a fallen
log and
breathe a musky perfume...
the forest's dark loam and
wet moss,
the brackish beauty of
a still, dark
pond humming with caddisflies
and speckled trout
to here Him whisper
"find me in the
darkness,
right here,
in this place where
the red fern
grows..."
to close my eyes to the
sun and still feel
her fingers
penetrate beneath
my skin and
warm
my bones with
her touch
this place of feral
loveliness
pulsing with Life,
this space beyond the common
thrum of humanity's
busyness
it takes my breath away and
suffuses me with
something
holy
something more sacred
than the
incensed air of a temple
a mosque,
a steepled church...
it is "the atmosphere of
Spirit,
where Soul
is
supreme..".
You are
leading me quietly,
peacefully
towards a lovely
destination...
You think I am awake to
Your intent
But suddenly
I flail,
I twist in your arms
like a child
in the throes of a nightmare...
chased by demons
only she can see
arguing with dragons
long-slayed
yet in her dreams,
still spitting sparks....
Please do not drop
me
and run
Please hold me tighter
and assure me that
demons do not live here
in the kingdom
with You...
demons live in places
where You will never let me
wander
and fire-breathing dragons cannot
sear
my peace
while I am in Your arms...
Shake me gently if
you must,
rub my shoulders,
repeat Yourself as
often as You think I need to
hear Your voice...
I know it is so much to ask
since You could have just let me
weep and flail
and race from dream
demons
But You chose to
wrap me in
angel quilts
swaddled in all that
You are to
children who have forgotten
who they are
and where they live...
Hold on tight,
and when the
terrors pass
I will waken
soft and sweet
with
sleepdust in
Your
arms....
"No evidence before the
material senses can close my
eyes to the scientific proof that
God, good, is supreme."
- Mary Baker Eddy
I stand here
with
eyes wide open
scanning the
horizon
searching the sky
looking for You
everywhere...
in the blackest
clouds heavy with
drenching rains, the loudest
thunder,
right there where I might be
tempted to
turn and run, right there
in
the flash and fury of
a summer storm...I look for You.
I cannot be made to
believe that You
have
disappeared,
scattered to the four corners
of obscurity,
been chased into hiding
by the darkenss of
fear or
doubt.
You are All and
You are here
and I cannot fail to
see you
in the depths of
my own
heart...
where the desire to
know you
to find you
to praise you...
is alive with promise
on fire with a desire for
You...
I see you in the
questions I bring to your feet,
I hear you in my prayers for
relief from the noise of doubt,
I see you in my longing
for peace,
my hunger for love,
my urgent,
relentless,
persistent
desire for something
bigger than
myself
to give purpose to my life.
I hear you in the pulsing
of my heartbeat
as it waits for peace to rend the
veil of pain and
bestow the Bridegroom's kiss
upon the pale brow of
fidelity with a
benediction of bliss...
I feel you
rise in me,
unbidden, like a
tidal wave of hope,
carrying with it all the
desires You
alone have
whispered to me on the
wings of angels
as they
flutter over the
dreams of
a girl
only asking to
be
Yours...
So here I stand,
eyes wide open
searching the sky,
ears eager for the first
strains of your
song,
all my senses
alive with
anticipation of your
presence
in
everything...
only You,
always You,
in all things...
what do you hear
in the silence
that is not...
silent
rain dripping from
the eaves
after a sudden
evening thunderstorm
one that sent us
scampering to
take cover under the
shadow of a
chapel's wings...
a babbling brook that
sings her song
without invitation...
a message of constancy
that comes
unbidden from somewhere
higher than this
place...
barn swallows that
swoop and dart...
dark silhouettes against
the changing colors
of a storm-washed dusky
sky
the soft stir of
aspen leaves
brushing against one another
as an unseen breeze
sets them quaking
with the
evening's chill
a hummingbird
whirs as
she makes her last visit
of the day
to trumpet flowers,
poppies,
and spires of lavender
along the porch rail...
i am not alone
in this not-so-silent
quiet place of
listening
i am companioned by
the music of
angels....hieroglyphic
notations of divine beauty written,
played,
sung along a ceaseless
tributary of
divine Love...
where Soul's
symphony
joins a chorus of
silence and
all i hear
is,
"you are blessed..."
"Each individual must fill
her own niche in
time and eternity..."
- Mary Baker Eddy
emma's on deck
and clara's in the hole...
my heart leaps into
my throat...
this is it...
they are happy
they are where they love to
be
atop a saddle
astride a horse
dusty and
wild-haired from
the wind off columbia basin...
the gate opens,
partners paw and prance
and with the focus of
olympic athletes
they
enter the arena driven by a
single-minded
determination that
takes my breath away...
they are intrepid,
unflinching,
indomitable,
audacious...
boldly flying around barrels,
before they tear back through the center of
their universe like
fighter pilots returning from
a mission...
and then it's her sister's turn...
you may think they look alike...
but don't be
fooled by your eyes...
they
are each
their own...
the partnership each shares
with her horse is
as different as happiness
and joy
...and yet the same...
models of
restrained power
an urgency that
waits for just the right moment to
surge and
sit deep....
precision-tempered and
fearlessly wise
disciplined
daring
is their strength...
it never matters...
to either of
them
which goes first
only that they
are there
at this moment,
in this place...
together...
"...rest assured,
you can never lack God's
outstretched arm, so long as
you are in Her service..."
- Mary Baker Eddy
rest
rest assured...
never
a lack
never, ever....
you are loved...you are
so
dearly loved...
as a Mother never
loses sight of Her child's
needs...
so your Father-Mother God
has never lost sight of
you...
Her arms are stretched out
reaching towards
you,
run,
fall,
collapse,
release all self-determinism
and
rest....
rest in Her
arms
Her outstretched arms...
arms,
not folded in
exasperation,
but stretched wide open
reaching for you...
arms filled with
pure joy,
just so grateful you are
there,
looking in Her direction,
looking into Her
Love-filled eyes,
eyes that brim with
happy tears
let yourself go there,
let yourself
accept,
appreciate,
savour
all that She
offers of Her gifts
affection,
patience,
humility,
grace,
gentleness,
purity,
worth,
joy,
tenderness,
mercy,
meekness,
contentment
perspicacity,
trust,
kindness,
peace...
and share them
open the floodgates of
your heart
and
share them
generously...
they will come rushing up
from
the depth of a
fountain
so pure and
rich
that you will
be
lifted,
buoyed,
immersed,
washed,
carried along...
held
firmly,
strongly,
securely
in the
safest
place you can be
in Her outstretched
arms,
immersed
in
the healing waters
of Love...
the river of Her
pleasures...
the pleasure She knows in
loving,
holding
caring for
you...
