Thankful for the Sacred Graces

I wonder sometimes where my thankfulness gets lost.

I start out well with good intentions and then before I know it my thoughts are jumbled and crossed. In the midst of such confusion, my heart soon wearies. I let the weight of the present fall heavy upon me. Under its burden, I miss the grace that longs to be seen.

Simple things...

Sunshine breaking through a cloudy sky

A red-crested woodpecker pounding away on a hard maple tree

Time to gather my thoughts and my words

Friends who are patient even when I am not

Faithful furry friends who stay closer than a shadow

The smell of his cologne that lingers well past his leaving for work

Memories recalled within spaghetti sauce and meatballs

An abundance of shoes waiting for feet

These simple graces are ones that transform moments into memories.

In the seeing I feel the breath of my Creator upon me. His Presence made manifest by a heart begging to bear witness. 

Weary not I pray, of my feeble attempts to be attentive.  Instead join me in counting the graces and giving thanks.

A late edition to "Multitude Monday - One Thousand Gifts", but a start nonetheless. 
 




© A Sacred Longing 2009-2010

Until we meet again...

The death of the Beloved bears fruit in many lives. You and I have to trust that our short little lives can bear fruit far beyond the boundaries of our chronologies. But we have to choose this and trust deeply that we have a spirit to send that will bring joy, peace and life to those who will remember us.

- Henri Nouwen

Once again we have made that sad journey back home to our beginnings. These painful trips have come much too often of late for my husband’s family. Less than two years ago we said “goodbye” to his father and then to his mother and now, to his baby sister.

Hers was bittersweet. I guess most are.

It was only a year ago that she had a horrible fall which left her paralyzed and on a ventilator. The days that passed were never easy. Battling infections, poor medical care, bedsores – a weary warrior who tried to fight but the victory was not to be here. So at 45 years, her story ends and our stories change.

Rest in peace, Robin.



© A Sacred Longing 2009-2010

A Moment of Quiet in the Roar of the Waves

This is what I usually see in my early morning

Not exactly the most relaxing, restful and beautiful sight, is it?!

BUT

This is what my morning has been looking like...



I beg you to keep me in this silence so that I may learn from it

the word of your peace

and the word of your mercy

and the word of your gentleness to the world:

and that through me perhaps your word of peace may make itself heard

where it has not been possible for anyone to heart it for a long time.

Thomas Merton

It is a sanctuary for my soul.  A place where I come longing to be emptied of all that has distracted and overwhelmed me.  A place to be awash in His grace and mercy.  A place to be nothing more than His.

I am not sure why I feel it most in these watery places but I do. 

I can't help but wonder if we each have that place that beckons us to come. 

Contemplation is the response to a call; a call from Him Who has no voice, and yet Who speaks in everything that is, and Who, most of all, speaks in the depths of our own being:  for we ourselves are words of His.  But we are words that are meant to respond to Him, to answer to Him, to echo Him, and even in some way to contain Him and signifiy Him.  Contemplation is this echo.  It is a deep resonance in the inmost center of our spirit in which our very life loses its seperate voice and re-sounds with the majesty and the mercy of the Hidden and Living One. 

Thomas Merton

Losing my voice but finding His in the roar of the waves.

© A Sacred Longing 2009-2010

And so begins the slow fade of summer...

I am not sure where this passing season has been. No exciting beach moments – no trips meandering through interstates – no barreling down roller coasters or even being amused with a carnival game. Much like the words that have failed to find their mark here, my summertime has been somewhat of a ghost. And now its warm breezes are fading quickly.

I am not sure I am ready for it to go. Then again, I can’t say that I embraced it while it was here. So where is the loss?

Yesterday a friend asked me what I had been up to and all I could muster was a simple “I’ve been”. Seemingly these days have passed in virtual anonymity. Potential misplaced in the numbing routine of the ordinary.

Something, I read recently has resonated deep. An uncomplicated thought that “our doing flows out of our being.” I can’t help but hope that within this simple summer of being will be found something more.

 

© A Sacred Longing 2009-2010