Morning Worship

I opened my door this morning to a breezy cool

I sat on my green porch chair with my just-brewed coffee

And reveled in the morning

So welcome after days of clingy heat

Sounds of the neighborhood

Mellowed by the echoes from the wooden wind chime

Baby blue sky as backdrop to the tender green maple in my front yard

I look down the porches of this row of homes

A narrowing kaleidoscope of hanging plants and Adirondack chairs

My heart is filled with gratitude for the friends and family

Who have enriched our lives in this house

And in fact make it possible for us to live here

I am grateful for the gift this place has been

A good place to raise my children

And this morning this porch is sacred ground

Salvation

Through Spirit that lives in me I am your daughter

And because I am your child I am your heir

Not just in suffering—

Though that is a necessary part of the inheritance—

But also in your Glory

Right along with your Son

And the sufferings, says Paul, are not worth comparing

With the Glory

All creation

            the hummingbirds and robins

            the lavender and the weeping willow

            my cat and Juba’s African violet

            the full moon and the crackling thunderstorm

            the parched fields and melting icecaps

            the cows kept in barns

            the polar bear seeking colder water

            the hungry babies in Somalia

            and their desperate, dying mothers

            the orphans of Rwanda

            and the child-soldiers in the Congo

            babies born to children

            and children left to raise themselves

            men trapped in our prisons

            and still more men trapped in drug-filled days

            (I could fill pages with those suffering and groaning and waiting)

All waiting for our glory to be complete

As our deliverance from decay and death

Will lead to our redemption in glorious freedom

Together we wait…

from Romans 8:12-25

Nancy Perkins

July 21, 2011

I recently begin meeting with a spiritual director, JoAnn Kunz. At our last meeting JoAnn suggested that as I read scripture, I might want to listen to my heart (I am usually quite stuck in my head), and write what my heart is saying to me. I am humbled by how Spirit speaks to me in the poetry that flows from my heart. It is truly a gift and I am grateful.

Bethel

With Jacob*

I raise an altar

In thanksgiving to God

My heart is forever marked

By His demonstration of love

In the life of my son.

God be praised.

*Based on Genesis 28:10-18

Nancy Perkins, July 18, 2011

Garden Cantata Part III – Crescendo

 What a glorious symphony of color—

 The fiery bee balm and pink cone flowers

are now playing in full form
with the more melodic goose neck
blending and filling in the pauses.

White daisies, and more goose neck

(who knew those gentle flowers

would take over)

carry the tune in the center of the display

just to the right of

the still singing yarrow,yellow and white

 (the red never came through).

The pot of herbs is full—

now offering notes of flavor

to spaghetti sauce

and marinade for chicken.

Somewhere in the middle

of the pink and white and yellow

you might see the red cap of Patch Withers

the busy garden gnome

who doesn’t seem to mind

that he is barely visible.

Anchoring the garden toward the gate

are more cone flowers among some coreopsis

and black eyed Susans—late comers

to the musical, but adding their voice

with a strong showing.

And where is Saint Francis in all this?

He has now released oversight to the players

allowing the music to flow about this head.

Oh yes, not to forget the Nebraska sunflowers.

Along with the asters,

they hold their blooms for the encore

I think they want that attention
all to themselves

at the end of the summer
after the other flowers

have taken their seats till next year.

Nancy Perkins

July 2011

Max, The Cowardly Dog

Poor Max, he’s afraid of unexpected noise

He runs for cover when thunder cracks and rumbles

Or when neighbor children play with firecrackers.

Poor dog, he finds safety underneath the porch swing

Where his human sits serene in spite of storm

Gently rocking while he cowers fearfully below.

I’m not unlike you, Max, I must admit

I’m also scared of loud and sudden sounds

I’ve been known to run for cover myself—

Even if it’s only hands over ears.

I too find safety under things—if not porch swings

Then ‘neath the fellowship of others’ conversations

Or perhaps protection offered by a prayer at close of day

Max, you give me comfort

Knowing that all creatures—man or beast

Need shelter from the storms that rage around us

Maybe cowardice is wisdom underneath

Ron and Elena Helmuth 
are Max’s humans. 
Sometimes he shares their room 
on stormy nights.

One Day at a Time

I’ve been practicing, what for me, has become a spiritual discipline. I’m taking one day at a time. I wake up in the morning, and tell God that I will live and walk in this day. Today. I sometimes sit on my stoop and look at my flower garden and watch the sun come slowly up the plant stalks. I think about the day, and about God’s love, and sometimes I whisper the names of family members or friends, giving them to God’s care for this day. And when my mind begins to wander down a tomorrow or next week trail, my mantra brings me back—one day at a time.

Tonight I fell off the wagon. I had a conversation with my son about an upcoming event that is crucial to his future, and when I said goodnight and went upstairs, I felt my gut tighten into a knot of worry and anxiety. Even as I sit and type, I cannot fight back the tears of disbelief and sadness that have been hallmarks of this valley. In my mind I’m a week and a half ahead in time. And I’m afraid and I am anxious and I forgot my resolve. One day at a time…

I’ve been reading from a small book that my sister sent me, and it’s been a real asset to maintaining my one-day-at-a-time discipline. Just last week I read:

Pray about everything; then, leave outcomes up to me. Do not fear my will for through it I accomplish what is best for you. Take a deep breath and dive into the depths of trust in me. Underneath are the everlasting arms.

This morning I read again:

Nothing can separate you from My loving presence…When you start to feel anxious, remind yourself that your security rests in Me alone, and I am totally trustworthy…You will never be in control of your life circumstances, but you can relax and trust in My control.

I read these paragraphs and I say, Yes. That’s what I want to do. And on I go into my day, reminding myself often throughout the day that I can trust my heavenly Father. He will give me my daily bread. He will hold me. He holds my children. He loves my son.

But one conversation with this child of mine, one tiny hint of fear in his voice, one glance at the worry in his deep brown eyes, and my mantra takes flight on wings of what ifs and maybes. My mind is off into outcomes and futures where love and trust are empty platitudes, and my thoughts circle and spiral downward into an ocean of riptides and deadly currents.

I did say this was a spiritual discipline for me, so here’s where I must practice believing through my doubt and fear. I will not drown. I will walk on these stormy seas. I will not take flight into next week and next month’s schedules and plans. I will not move over and make room for the fear of all unknown. I will stand in the present and live and move in what I know to be true. I will dive into the depths of the greatest reality of all—God’s love for me and my children.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate me (or my children) from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord. - Romans 8:37-38

When I am afraid I will trust in You. In God whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me? - Psalm 56:3-4

The eternal God is my refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. He will drive out my enemy before me. - Deuteronomy 33:27

I know this mantra is not magical. But it’s a way of calling me back from that spiraling whirlpool into the darkness below. One day at a time. These tears tonight will dry in morning’s sun. One day at a time. Tomorrow God will still be here. One day at a time. Tonight I’ll rest in the everlasting arms. Next week He’ll still be my refuge. Nothing in all of creation can separate me from His love. One day at a time.