breathing peace

Lord Jesus,

I know we are immensely precious to You.

I know nothing that happens in us or to us escapes Your notice or care.

Peace, be still.

The storm raged on the boat;  You calmed it with those words.

You can do the same for the storms within us.

What if, upon breathing in, we think or say out loud,

Jesus

...and, breathing out, we think or say

Peace, be still.

Perhaps this creates some space in us for You to work.

It's an exercise to dissipate anxiety, yes, but most importantly, it's a prayer, and a potential healing moment.

It's a garden of peace and rest in our soul that we visit and revisit, when our breathing is connected to Your Spirit.

Jesus...(in breath)

Peace, be still...(out breath)

repeat as needed

So important a medicine...done slowly...
slowly...

The inhale is the taking in and asking:

Jesus...

The exhale is receiving and allowing Jesus to calm the storm within,
and give peace to our body and soul.

Peace, be still.

What a gift.

As available,
and as present,
as the air we breathe.

snow through a new lens

gentle flurries float down with extraordinary grace

looks like God is sending a soothing salve
on to this inflamed earth

...or are they

tiny angel paratroopers?

every day, deliverances
large and small
we need them, each and all

you were made for this day

a wise friend blessed me with those six words.  here's my take on what they might mean:

    ------------------

all that has gone before

every last crumb of your checkered past: 

your first shot at life

your upbringing

downbringing

your swings and misses
victory marches

your combat tooth and nail

failures on your face

your public mistakes

your scrambling 

desolation

re-education

restoration

survival
and revival

all of them brought squarely into this moment

by Your Maker Himself

shaping you

with His powerful holy hand

into NOW

NOW

arising up from the dark soil of your  life 

there emerges this
vibrant fruit

to be harvested 

in ways you could never fathom

in your wildest imagination

you
were made
for this day.

a moving day

sometimes

you get more of a lift

when you try to lift a piano

to help a friend to move

than when you play a piano

to try to

move a room

kneelers

sometimes
God
i feel like we should

only sing
to

a few

at a time

over coffee on an open mic
or no mic at all
just human voice through the air

or in a small chapel
with kneelers

kneelers

knees to floor

in a posture of dependency
speaking, singing,
whispering
one stumbling child
to another

knowing that
You are
closer than the air
and
we
are all
in the same aching need of You 

and that
none of us
can be anything of use
to this gasping world

until You breathe on us
calm our souls with Your touch
and lift our weary bodies up to serve 

and then 

maybe

just maybe

we might be able to pull somebody

to safety

and maybe

just maybe

it will be

me

focus

multitasking is dangerous.  

it's not efficient;  

it's doing everything a little bit worse. 

a LOT worse.

it's putting others in harm's way, and I am the harm.

to be fully present as I walk through the world is not a trendy luxury.

it's discipline.  

it's survival.

it's protecting others against the careless version of myself.

it's got to stop.

the mindlessness

the carelessness

the shoddy and the shabby

the kneejerk 

preoccupied

asleep-at-the-switch thing.

life is a practice

not a reactive flailing headlong plow through the world with one headlight out

we each are given our body space on the planet

and a measure of free will 

and the risk to others 

that accompanies such a gift.

and what is asked in return…

before love

before accomplishment

before art

before anything…

is Focus.

piano

So I couldn't figure out why this poem popped out yesterday morning.  It was sunny, a summer day.  I was feeling chipper...my piano is in good shape and I play it...you know....it's not really literal...not about me...

I realize that it's probably grief over my mom's passing coming out in verse.  She brought music into the world, to so many people, into our family, into me. 

i stare at the keys

black and whites

they don't weep

and they don't speak

the fingers that used to create with a touch

are long long gone

and the silence

cries out

could we be one

Just found this in my journal--an entry from 2007… the question still remains...

could we be one

in some other universe

some other time

when all differences and antagonisms

are melted away in the heat of the light of the Son

when love rules

and we all bow low

and acknowledge the holy

and feel the breath of the Spirit

in each of us

regardless of distinctions

and adversarial positions

the old things are passed away

behold the new has come

and none of that matters

in the face of something so

brilliant

more than You love the dawn

I see how You love the dawn to life

turn the night into day

simmering up the heat and the light

until it is brought to perfection

I see the lights of the cars

tracking their way across my field of vision

right to left on a smooth straight line

and I see how You get each human inside

out of the bed in the morning to dwell in another day

I assume each one is lonely

and it may well be true

but You also work with each heart

from the inside out

from the outside in

as much as they will let you

to simmer up the warmth and the light

until they are brought to perfection

because You love each soul

more than You love the dawn

and You got me out of bed this morning

left to right in an awkward broken line

you work with my heart

from the inside out

from the outside in

to simmer up some light and some warmth

to soften and light my darkness

gradually

until I am brought to perfection

as much that is as I will let You

which is sometimes very little

but You keep on simmering me

because You love my soul

more than You love the dawn

that I stumble out of the bed to watch.

what if i….

Hello good people!  This is my second post of the spring.  Spring came late, so are my posts, I guess.  A song I wrote a long time ago came to mind this morning, and I feel like God brought it back into my consciousness.  I see this reminder now as Jesus, my Teacher, with a twinkle in His eye, saying, 

"There's a better way… it's right there in the words of the song I gave you so many years ago…remember?  You and I have talked about this theme many times.  More to learn here, my student, my child.  Read it again."  

what if I let go my grasp

of all the things that raise me higher

what if I gave my life

as a gift

blessed and broken

for the poor of every kind

poor as I am inside

would there be less of me

would I become a nobody

or would I finally be

the best of what you had in mind

for me?

what if I crucified all my pride

and upward striving

put an end to dreams of fame

bigger things

and social climbing

made myself more teachable

reachable

invisible

would there be less of me

would I become a nobody

or would I finally be

the best of what you had in mind

for me?

one finger at a time

loosen my hold on the pride that I cling to

then walk me by the hand

lower and lower

down to the places You go

cause I need to go with You

wherever You take me to

what if I had seen the way

You endured humiliation

seen You go so deathly low

to secure my own salvation

how could I then live a lie

pretending I’m up here so high?

give me the heart to see

how You became a nobody

and showed me the way to be

the best of what You had in mind

the rest of what You had in mind

the best of what You had in mind for me

what if I

crucified

all my pride?

first outdoor run of spring

i was grateful to be at Citizens Park,

running the paths, navigating the melting ice--

the first outdoor run of the spring,

when everything, though muddy, is fresh.

to be able to breathe outdoor air,

to own the gift of respiration.

the natural rhythms of the body,

in coordination.

grateful for fresh outdoor air, for life, for health.

for the calm that follows the storm.

for the freshness that melts the ice.

for the exhilaration of being mobile and alive.

it seems more precious to me than ever

partly because of the 

deliverance

from the constant recirculated air of winter.

because much of the season,

we were in

tight rooms 

and long eternal hallways.

to have a taste of spring,

of raw fresh soil outside muddying my running shoes,

a burst of freshness that I don't take for granted,

at least not today.

thank You for recovery

and the relative peace after the blizzards.

the quiet picking up of our lives

and holding them up to the sunlight.

coming up for air

Hello again, friends.

Since last I posted, aeons ago, I've needed all my energy to help Corinne through a process which involves many tests and a major surgery.  I'm happy to report she is on the mend and on her way to health.  

Simultaneously, though, when Corinne was turning the corner, my mom, Pat Ferguson, was diagnosed with stage 4 aggressive cancer.  As Corinne gained steam, my mom declined--heartbreakingly fast.  Mom passed from earth to heaven a short time ago, and we celebrated her life in a memorial service this past Sunday.

It was so poignant to tell her life story as a family, each in turn telling a chapter.  Singing the songs she loved, thanking God for her extraordinary life.  And extraordinary it was.  How blessed and graced we were to have her as our mom.

And how deep the void now where her shining presence was.

Only now, in the calm that follows the whirlwind, can I begin to post my thoughts and prayers again. 

Only now do I begin to come out from my tunnel and see the daylight and feel my pulse normalize.

Now I get my bearings and look around like a groundhog coming out from hibernation.

Good morning sky. 

Good morning melting snow.  

Good morning spring rain.