Angels in human form


When all is dark and we’re feeling lost

It’s then they do come near

They look like us and talk like us

They come in friendship, hope, and love

With gentle, healing words

Words that comfort

Words that bind

The wounds we’re suffering here

Empathy, compassion too

By these a divine essence revealed

We may call them friends

We may call them family

But truth be known

They are for us

Angels in human form

Through these days


It is week four now…time goes by so slowly.

Feeling weak and helpless

As I stand here by your side

Hoping, praying

Let healing come

Please, dear God, let healing come

For him

For me

For all the world I see

Struggling with brokenness

And still and all

I know that You

O divine Creator

Hold us still

In the palms of your hands

Though weak and small

You see us all

In our entire humanity

Please grant us strength

And courage too

To get us through these days

These hard and lonely days

These blessed days

When we are ground to bits

And all the pieces

Do not seem to fit

Yet your wisdom guides us on

Through the darkness

Through the fear

Through all anxiety

And crushed dreams

Waiting for our honest response

Waiting for a blessed ‘yes’

Through these days

When You seem far away

And silent

Yet even in the grasp of doubt

I believe

You are here by our side

Through these days

Acceptance


Photo Credit: shutterstock

Acceptance

A lifetime lived accepting

What others judge and fail to understand

Acceptance

Of that which others see as unfair trials and tribulations

Acceptance, she knows, is the fertile soil for peace

How to help them understand;

To foster love and with it serenity

In hearts that have hardened

Like clay soil baked in the hot sun

Even this she accepts,

She knows she cannot make them see

Her heart is old and wise, not given to despise

Those whose paths have not been as long or as winding

Acceptance allows her to put aside the judge’s robes

And lay her gavel down

THIS VERY MOMENT


When all seems perverted and serenity’s lost

When the world is committed to counting the cost

Of feeding the hungry or housing the poor

And considers the sum too high to be paid

When refuge and comforts are all cast aside

And the poor and the needy are objectified and derided

Remember this perspective is but one side of the coin

Winners and losers all look the same

When stripped of their flesh and stripped of their name

Do not despair

Don’t ever lose heart

Somehow and some way goodness comes from it

Though we know not the reason and are questioning why

We see but one aspect

The Divine sees the whole

So, don’t worry or fret or scurry about

Seeking solutions with limited intelligence

Stand down and be silent

All is mystery

Our eyes are so blinded

Our ears can mishear

Our human devising’s not up to the task

There is one and one only

Known by many names

Who has each of us counted, the rich and the poor and the middle-class too

Under the skin and under those flags we truly are one

So, let go of planning, of scheming and such

And be in this moment and each moment after

Be with the sorrows and be with the laughter

Being is enough, when we’re mindful and present

Serenity returns like a bird to its nest

The heart knows the truth:

That here we must rest

Right here, today, in this very moment

Sacred Whispers



Frost Texture – Stockvault image

Sacred whispers

In every leaf and flower

Every tree, every bush

Each singing waterway

Divinity speaks quietly

And bids me to pay heed

To generous scenes of loveliness

That’s sent for all to see

And in the winter months

When all is ice and snow

The frost paints pretty pictures

For all to gaze upon

And consider the artist’s hand

Best of all these wondrous gifts

Are all completely free

My spirit’s filled with delight and awe

Sing on, my soul, sing on

Of nature’s praise, and glory be

For all eternity

The blessings of being broken


She sat on the sofa not moving while the litany of destructive self recriminations began. She was too weak to stop it. It played on and on with one accusation following another in a never-ending loop. The mental pain was excruciating. She wanted to die just to end the pain. Yet, thoughts of her children stayed her hand. Who would find her dead body? No, she could not do that to them.

Despite the fact she knew she was not the mother she wanted to be; despite all the times she was distracted and preoccupied by the nonstop judge that ruled her mind and kept her hostage; despite the strong inner critic who chained her to the whipping post day after day after day and lashed her repeatedly with words both cruel and untrue.

Then one day the pain became too great. She decided to end it. She could not go on this way, and really, her children would be better off without her. She was merely existing, not living. She did not deserve their love; did not deserve to be their mother. And the children deserved so much more than she could give. In fact, she had nothing to give. She was empty, totally drained of joy or happiness.

She was broken, utterly and entirely spent. She cried and cried – screamed out her pain, but no one heard – no one. At least, that was what she thought and believed at the time.

When you reach rock bottom; when you can sink no lower, it is then you begin to rise. The ascent was slow at first, very slow. She thought she’d never see the light at the end of that dark tunnel. But she had strength – more strength than she knew.  She crawled in increments so tiny as to be microscopic. She did not see much change, at first. The inner voice tortured her still, but now there were small moments of quiet – moments of peace she’d never known before.

Those moments stretched into hours. Then eventually into days, and then weeks, until finally she emerged from the darkness.

She stretched her arms up toward the sky and turned in circles laughing up at the sun. And the blessings – oh the blessings – she felt the breeze tease the hair on her arms. She felt the sun warm against her skin. Breathed deeply the aroma of the sweet grass and briny air. And gazed about her like one newly born. She filled her senses with life.

 Like someone blind suddenly given the gift of sight her eyes were opened. She had much to give and gave it unstintingly. Compassion for others flooded her heart. She was healed. Yet the gift of memory allowed her to be a blessing to others. She never forgot her journey through that dark and bitter tunnel.

And so, it was and is and will be until the clock winds down and her days on earth are done, that brokenness leads to blessings untold and reaches out to heal others trapped inside the tunnel.

Searching for meaning


It was a strange dream in many ways. I dreamed Caitlin was receiving the sacrament of Confirmation, which is strange because she was not raised Catholic. Confirmation is a sacrament in which the person is asked to confirm promises made by the parent at baptism. In essence the person is asked if they want to be a member of the church; to be a follower of Jesus Christ. Of course, dreams are never straight forward, and least of all this one.

In the dream I was supposed to prepare Caitlin to receive the sacrament. I also had to give a sermon, or a talk about the sacrament and its meaning at her confirmation ceremony. It was a dream about faith, spirituality, and about family and forgiveness.

Caitlin’s father, my brother, Chris, was killed when a drunk driver crashed into his van as he was headed home from work two years ago. In my dream several family members were interrupting my speech to talk about Chris, not to dishonor the proceedings but because many are still grieving and healing.

The name, Christopher, my mother often told us, means Christ-bearer. That also came up in my dream. As the dream progressed Bob Marley’s tune, Redemption kept playing. So, what was the message I was being given? Confirm the Christ Bearer? Confirm Christ? Forgiveness? Redemption? Family?

There’s a lot to tease out of this dream. It is the 23rd of December and Christmas is approaching. But the dream was not about Christmas per se, even though it is the day we celebrate the birth of the Saviour. But Christmas does put a lot of emphasis on family with the Holy Family taking front and centre, or at least it does in most Catholic households.

I am searching for meaning – not just of my dream, but of life itself; of spirituality and what divine love means to me.

May this Christmas bring peace to us all and to our world that is in dire need of peace and love and all things good.

And the Ancestors Spoke


TRUTH SCULPTURE Carol Hopkins photo

And the ancestors spoke and said

“Child, find your voice”

“Do not sit mutely watching the world go by”

“Use your voice and remind the people of the price of silence”

The price of silence, they gave me to understand:

Injustices, heartache, pain on every level of one’s being

But I answered them, “I have not your strength, I am weak”

And that quiet voice I attribute to them wisely advised:

“Even an infant cries out for what it needs; even a child loves, if taught love”

And then I whined and rationalized and said again,

“I am not wise. I do not understand”

They answered, “Hear us, then, let us teach you …

Sit by the ocean, feel the moisture of the waves as the wind brings it to you

And the scent of the briny air

Walk in the forest feel the softness of the earth beneath your feet

Hear the birds sing and insects buzz

Go to the mountains and look up at the wonder before you

Feel its majesty and grandeur

Venture out into the dessert and on the sandy dunes feel the sun hot upon your skin

Visit the fields and meadows and dig in the soil for plants that nourish

And when you know the blessings of the earth turn and share them

As the wind brings moisture to the land, give drink to those who thirst

As the forest offers shelter, give shelter to those in need

As the mountains make us pause in wonder, give joy and wonder to those who despair

As the sun heats the dessert, bring warmth and compassion to those who are cold

As the fields and meadows offer sustenance, feed those who hunger

But most of all, feel, for when you feel deeply you will not turn from another in need”

And so, I found my voice, and though it may be soft and weak, I will use it here

Thank you, Ancestors

 

 

 

I want to join the caravan


Pixabay image

Photo Credit: Pixabay

I want to join the caravan

To hug each weary soul

To give to all

food, clothes, and more

A safe place to rest from trials

I want to join the caravan,

Extend a welcome hand

I want to know them each my name

And not as illegal, fugitive, nor migrant

I want to join the caravan

And share what God has given

For I have been so richly blessed

Every moment I’ve been living

I want to join the caravan

For they know truth, not lies

They know the value of a life

They hear the people’s cries

I want to know the ones who walk

Trudging mile after mile

Though humble, weak, and destitute

They’re richer than they seem

For though they hold not earthly gold

They’re filled with hopes and dreams

And not with greed’s own poison

I want to join the caravan

And walk the weary miles

Each one offers a chance, you see

to walk the talk

And be not afraid

They may steal my job

Or pilfer my way of living

For the Divine has set us here

To be good to one another

I want to join the caravan

To know blessings once again

For as we sit in judgment here

And sneer upon the ‘other’

We dishonor the God we preach

And deserve not the name

Of sister nor of brother

I want to join the caravan

And find my soul again