I am empty
Serving no purpose until I am filled
Born to give shape and form
To that which fills me
A vessel of Light awaiting a word
And the hand that pours the wine of Life
Into my waiting.
Insubstantial, it is my substance
Into which the waters flow,
Held in safety, preserved from dissipation
By the cup of my being.
My feet in earth
Lips raised to the sky in joyful paean
Catching heaven’s rain as it falls
And fills me with its clarity
That I may drink the morning.
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Amazing grace! They were able to do the least invasive surgery. The surgeon is sure they got all the cancer. And we are home two days after the surgery. The first day was difficult, but he was much better the second and really good today. He will need to have check-ups every three months to catch any possible return of cancer, but the doctor was very optimistic. Thanks be to God and to all the kind people who cared and prayed in their own way. I feel so blessed.
I know this is inadequate, but it is the best I can do to express my understanding of our relationship to God, Jesus, and one another. I so wish I could do this better.
I often talk like I see God as sort of a powerful, benevolent Santa Claus. But actually, my pitifully limited human comprehension is probably more like Star Wars’ the Force outside and within us.
So, as a great fan of Jesus, how do I understand his description of God as Abba, ‘Daddy,’ and his frequent conversations with Him? And what is the role Jesus plays in all this?
First, I think Jesus ‘Got’ God. And tried to communicate to us that the creative force behind the universe was not only still alive and involved doing the creating thing all around us, but also still nurturing an unfinished universe and unfinished humanity from the inside out.
All of the universe, including humanity, is one. And the Whole (God) is greater than the sum of the parts. Whatever this creative force that we call God is, it is “on our side,” because…
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Remembering the blessings in a time of suffering..
That evening after the doctor’s appointment, Tommy’s fever broke. His eyes sparkled and he was his funny independent little self again.
“Everybody start looking for pots and vases,” I said cheerfully, as I organized the older children and my husband into a treasure hunt for containers for the daffodils. We found dozens in diverse sizes and appearance and brought all the beautiful golden blooms inside the house. Everywhere you looked, it was Easter. Everywhere you looked there was the love of God and hope for the future.
The year continued with Tommy still succumbing to frequent illnesses, but I clung to my sign of hope, believing that God would heal him without surgery. Tommy turned four in November and a week before Christmas I took him to the heart specialist for his yearly tests. I had been told in the beginning, that sometimes these heart valve defects closed on their…
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This is a very old post of mine, but expresses a part of what I mean about sex in the context of love being one of our ways to experience God.
That may seem like a funny thing to say in a world obsessed with sex. However, when an Adult Sunday School Class was asked the question, “What’s a way you experience the presence of God?” and I answered “Sex,” it went over like a lead balloon. There was a profound silence. I think the pastor just finally moved on to another question.
Evidently this is not the number one response.
For me growing up in the fifties and being a newly wed in the sixties created a sexual conundrum. It meant coming into marriage with all sorts of taboos drummed into your conscious and unconscious, but suddenly hearing the feminists claiming equal fun for everyone. This led to being rather self-centered about sex. I did finally get the impression that men need the enjoyment of sex to feel good about themselves, but women need to feel good about themselves to…
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Oh, to be open each dawn to the Spirit which gives us life, love, and grace. A lovely poem by Sue Vincent in England.
I am empty
Ahh…..for a moment I delighted with you…..and I don’t even like Scotch. Such is the power of language. How then, can we capture and pass on the beauty some of us glimpse only in that ephemeral place of possibility so that those unsighted can taste and see that universal goodness in which we were created to live and breathe and have our being?
a gift-glass of excellent
Scotch, a Glenmorangie
Nectar D’Or aged in
an indulgence, yes, expensive
and rare; that’s the point of it,
it was a sacrifice,
it was given in love
and I drink it with love on
my mind. Lemony
start, honey on the tongue
with dark burn, a finish
built on notes of
regret at its ending and
joy that it was here and I
had this chance to taste it:
I’m not going to be ashamed
at this, you see, not while
so much wrong needs righting,
not while there’s so much need
to assuage pain and trouble;
for a few minutes
I’m going into this glass
to understand it as a golden
taste of an expression of love,
a trace of what a pure future
might be once we get past
this dim moment.
The blog posts by this author are written with his eyes on a special computer. His journey is the most literal example of “living for others” that I have ever encountered. His writings and example have pulled me out of my self-pity spells for years.
I almost made it through a whole year without being hospitalized or having any additional health problems. Almost. Then, with just a few days left in 2016, I caught a cold. The “commoncold” is not much more than an annoyance for otherwise healthy people, but for someone like me with weakened breathing muscles and only 30% of my lungs functioning, the common cold is much more than an annoyance.
On the morning of the last day of the year, I was having an extremely difficult time breathing even wearing my breathing mask. In addition to that, I couldn’t keep anything down. I was a mess, more than usual. Mary and I both assumed it was pneumonia again so she called 911 and within minutes we were in an ambulance en route to the hospital. ALS has brought us one adventure after another over the last 20 years.
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This young woman just restored my hope for the future.
You only need to meet me to know that no matter how you cut it, I’m no saleswoman . So, If you had told me that my first job would be as a sales consultant at a debt counseling firm, i would have never even entertained the conversation.
Yet a couple of months after varsity I found myself doing just that. Four years and student loans later, I was working a job that I hated more with every passing day.
It amazes me how at the feet of desperation, preference bows out and just about anything goes.
To be fair, It didn’t start out that way. Initially that job had felt like a godsend. I’d been job hunting for months to no avail and couldn’t even keep track of the applications I sent out.
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There are people in my life who push my buttons, causing me to question my words and actions. Yesterday for example, the first email of the day was from a work colleague asking for a meeting to discuss myself and my team moving out of our offices. Some of their people would be moving in next week. They appeared in my office, shortly after receiving news that I knew nothing about the relocation. We exchanged points of view in a jovial manner. I offered one of the desks in the area for one of their team members, as a stop gap measure.
A small time later I received another email from them, letting me know that they had no intention of kicking us out. I know that they are not the catalyst, there are more senior powers at work. The communication ended with the following “Sorry for the stressful start to your…
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Saw it coming when she said “Jesus fed a crowd at moment’s notice!” This is great…..a man of all nationalities and genders….that’s my Jesus.
One day, on their way home from work, the Seven Dwarfs got into a heated argument about Jesus and his ethnicity.
Grumpy argued that Jesus was Black: “He called everyone brother, he liked Gospel, and he didn’t get a fair trial.”
“No way,” said Doc, “Jesus went into His Father’s business; he lived at home until he was 33; he was sure his Mother was a virgin, and . . . his Mother was sure he was God. He was obviously Jewish.”
Bashful quietly said, “I think Jesus must have been Italian. He talked with his hands, he drank wine with his meals, and he used a lot of olive oil.”
Grumpy raised an eyebrow and asked, “What makes you think Jesus used a lot of olive oil?”
Bashful blushed, “Well, he must have. He always had an olive branch to offer . . .”
Before Grumpy could respond, Dopey grinned and said, “Dudes. He never cut his hair, he walked around barefoot all the time, and he started his own religion. He was…
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