Stepping into Lent Space

Spaciousness

moment by moment

even in the midst of all my busy-ness.


Here it is - the invitation
breath by daily breath
into deepening knowledge of you.

Lord
grant me the courage
to risk it.

Kindness

'The kindness of the Lord is from eternity to eternity toward those who fear him' (psalm 103)

Our world is sorely in need of kindness.
Save us O Lord from brutality ... including our own.
Give us compassionate, tender hearts that recognize your presence,
that peace may come.

We pray this day for those whose lives are torn apart by violence.

O Lord,
that Peace may come.

Not loitering, not being dragged, but do not delay!

I've been reading Pope Francis  The Church of Mercy and he talks about Mary setting out on her journey to visit Elizabeth 'with haste' (Luke 1: 39). Mary, he says, ' is not in a hurry'! Mary, he says 'does not let herself be dragged along by events'.
But, here's the critical thing it seems to me.... 'when she has clearly understood what God is asking of her, what she has to do, she does not loiter, she does not delay, but goes with haste' (P. 148)

and so I pray
Oh Lord, don't let me be hurried, dragged, driven, pressurized  along paths not of your making.
Help me to stand still, just for a second even, to listen deeply for the tone of your voice.
Unmistakable, when I hear it.

In the midst of delays of tube and bus
call to me.

I will answer.

In another garden

I'm in another garden now: crouched, forlorn and seeking.
'Have you seen him whom my heart loves? Has he passed by you?'

I am standing in the presence of an indomitable life force
if I could realize ...
for a moment, for a lifetime.

It is I, Mary, It is I.

John 20: 11-18

Song of Songs 3: 1-5 

St John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle

http://www.ccel.org/ccel/john_cross/canticle.iv.html

Along the way

In the midst of all the noise, confusion and violence of this Good Friday, where hate prevails ...
I am listening to the stillest silence.
It speaks quiet strength, roaring lion. Love.

My soul is sad

I am in the garden, sleeping.
My eyes are heavy with grief.

And Jesus prays, that if it's possible, this hour might pass.
He throws himself on the ground. Remove this cup!

He is deeply grieved, even to death.
Even to death.
It does not come so soon ... the yet: the not what I want, but what you want my Father.
Abba.

and yes, I do not know what to say to him.
yes, I am still sleeping.

But enough! the hour has come.
Get up. Let us be going.
Let's walk the road.

(Mark 14: 32-42)

Called into the dance

I am called into the dance, and in order to follow I must let go of all I’m holding.

I bring my gifts, but in order to dance the steps, to follow the beat, the love, the sound, the pulse I must be grounded, must breathe, must stand free.

I place my shopping bags, my piles of books, my eternal list of things to do at the door of your garden.

I step into space.

I sense the freedom waiting to unfold into unencumbered places where I will discover new beats, new moves, new people.

I dance my sadness, I dance my joy. I play my confusion, I tear away what’s stale.

I long for running water, I twirl until I fall

and I find you at the centre, turning all in all. (27 January 2013)