Gray Hair

Gray hairs lay like a frame around my face.
I gaze at them with some consternation.
Look at us, they say.
We are your life.
We are grief and trouble.
We are love and joy.
We are your children and your lover.
We tell your story.
We are your prayer.

Beneath the Bark

The bare trees
  with a few brown
  shriveled leaves
Pay no heed to
  their nakedness
  in winter's bitter cold
The branches
  still reach
  skyward
A prayer of thanks
  for what lies
  inside
A deep knowing
  of leaves
  and flowers
  and fruit

Humbled

I am humbled by the realization

of the connection between inspiration and place and space.

I may say that I have not lately been inspired,

but the other truth is that I have not lately entered into

a space where inspiration is invited.

Oh me!

Truth of a Moment

Looking through the open slats of the blind

I see a morning picture

slice by slice

Pink streaks in pale blue sky

smoke curling from a chimney

across the yard

Snow-covered roofs

bare tree branches.

In my quiet space

my hands hold the warm cup

and I taste the goodness of my

morning coffee.

I breathe in and out

and listen to silence.

I am filled with knowing

that God is here

and within

That is the truth of this moment

and it is sacred

and hallowed.

Silence

Silence presses in around me

Almost ringing in my ears

I feel a strange discomfort

Almost a need to escape

Have I become so attached to

noise and sound?

Are my senses seeking the

stimulation to which they've

become accustomed?

Silence battles science

And the war rages--even in me

A seeker of mindfulness

and meditation

The Morning Sun

The morning sun
finds its way
through winter sky
unwashed windows
and tilted shades
to my upturned face--
turning an ordinary
Saturday moment
into an extraordinary
winter gift.


My face is glowing from the sun,
a reflection in my heart
A reflection of Your love,
a circle--complete!

Church...It Could Happen

If I would start a church

it would be like none I’ve known

It would meet wherever I am

And whomever I am with would be the body

When we ate we would hand bread to one another

and exchange a glass of wine at meal’s end

Music would be the singing of the birds or our own voices

raised in praise or lament from in our hearts

The sermon would be our eager conversation

or maybe just a hearty laugh or salty tears

Our prayers would be the longings of our hearts

shared with gratitude and humbleness and love

And when we parted ways our benediction

would be our warm embrace and promise

to meet again and love until that time.

I've been thinking about church, and how the traditional structures don't seem to work for me these days. I'm not sure my ideas make much sense, but wherever two or three...

-Nancy