Threads Untied

Time for my walk, but I could not tie my shoes. My tremor stutter hand would not work. Shoe in my lap, eyes closed, I asked the little one inside my spirit if she remembered learning to tie her shoes. I didn't always know how to tie shoes. Perhaps if I remembered how I learned I could figure a way to tie my shoes now.  

Resting upon the water windows of time I floated back through all the images and albums. I remember the sound of sea gulls and waves at sunrise. I remember once, just once, feeling cute. I remember being loved. I remember love. I remember when to awake meant another day to love and share. I remember the sound of my father's voice. I remember running for miles and miles. I remember the sound of 'hello.' I remember my grandfather teaching me to honor and bow to the forest before you enter. I remember hands that danced with words and eyes that could read. I remember laughter and songs that left me breathless. I remember the feel of my knees as I bowed in awe, wonder and grace. I remember the squeaking sound of feet walking along the beach at night and the sound of unseen waves. I could not, however, remember how I learned to tie my shoes. 

As I put my shoes away, a promise to the little one inside and to my heart, we shall never take for granted the precious moments of 'I remember.' I didn't always know beauty, love, waves and grace. But I learned and I remember. Bowing my head, I gave thanks for the grace of having known, and in knowing, to remember. And so my little one and I walked barefoot in the yard instead, a walk I will remember.

Held by Grace

For all the have nots, cannots, the pain that grows worse with trying to heal, eyes that cannot see and one hand that cannot hold or write, and the quietness each one brings to my heart, knowing Your sweet Hands, o Life, are strong enough,  I say thank you.

Simple truths trying to find the loom that will weave them together, a tapestry of beauty, love, faithfulness and belief in destiny and forever, this moment alone is worthy of the journey and for that hope, I say thank you

Reflecting Choice

And if everything is a reflection of myself, my soul and heart, a part of all I see....

Then let my body dance like the waving fern limbs, supple, bending, swaying in the breeze.

Then let my spirit simply stretch her wings with no thought of how, and soar towards the heavens.

Then let my heart crack open like the butterfly's cocoon, the oak's acorn, the earth to blade of grass, and life pour forth.

So many images, aspirations and affirmations of what I could be and perhaps am.  My blurred eyes gently remind me... a reflection requires you to see.  Aspirations, affirmations and desires are the nectar but first you have to open your eyes, look and choose what you see.

Inviting

The phrase "inviting heart" is rattling around sending the threads in my heart and mind flying like dandelion puffs caught in the wind.


My mother was a true southern woman when it came to hospitality. Effortlessly she would make any guest feel as if they were literally welcome to sit with their feet on the coffee table in their underwear if they so desired - and burp out loud, if so inclined. And yet, our greatest fear was a house fire and getting out in time - every door double locked and fastened and windows with broom handles in the window sill - she was terrified of someone breaking in.


An inviting heart..... asking in, receiving, welcoming, making the other comfortable and "at home" or better than home, turning no one away, accepting, providing food, quenching the other's thirst, conversation, sharing, laughter, hugs, silence that is comfortable with tears and words not requiring a voice, a washing away of all that you carried in and bathing you in the moments of now, surrounded with effortless grace and open arms, putting your feet on the coffee table as you sit in your underwear and burp - or even take a nap. An inviting heart whispering, "whoever, whatever you are, come in and take of all I have."


And if Life has given us the capacity to have such a heart...do we dare, can we even imagine what the invitation must read like, from Life's inviting heart, signed wistfully with

R.S.P.V.

Layered plea

 I walked and begged the sweet Hands of Life to stop the forest fires, to quench the fire’s hunger and save the sweet earth.  Her sweet Hands changed my words and in my asking, asked back another question to me.  I heard my voice, my plea, whisper “quench the fire’s hunger not in punishment but in love.”  Nature is not arbitrary.  It is the nature of fire to burn.  To feel anger or worse towards the fire is to deny a part of nature herself. 

Please sweet Hands of Life, embrace the fire.  Quench the fire’s hunger not in punishment but in love.  Stop the scarring of the earth.  

Perhaps, in this prayer and meditation, teach me, to do likewise with the fires burning the sweet earth of my soul. And then to join you in Love's embrace.