Faith steals upon you like dew: some days you wake and it is there. And like dew, it gets burned off in the rising sun of anxieties, ambitions, distractions. ~Christian Wiman from My Bright Abyss
refreshed in the light of morning,
can evaporate in the dry stress of the day.
May we turn our faces up
each night, asking to be washed
in the mist of God’s dew,
our anxiety settled like dust.
Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light, and lifting up our hearts in the knowledge that we are as others are (and that others are as we are), and that it is right to love one another in the best possible way – believing all things, hoping for all things, and enduring all things. ~Vincent Van Gogh in “Letters”
We like to believe it is in our DNA to be tribal, to justify setting ourselves apart from the “other”, to be discontent with whatever we are given — but that belief is how humanity’s troubles began.
Every election and convention season only intensifies our sense of “otherness”, further driving us apart and further into the darkness.
We are slaves to divisiveness: even worshiping and voting for it in the name of “becoming great again”, emphasizing our own “truth” in the name of “unity.”
I can’t watch it and I can’t listen to prayers for one political party over another.
I want to know it is still possible to love each other in all our differences in the best possible way, with quiet endurance and hope. No shouting, no balloons, no ridiculous rhetoric.
We are as others are — denying it is folly. Believing it is the beginning of selfless love, something God did intend for our DNA. He became the “other” among us to show us how it can be done.
Sometimes on summer evenings I step Out of my house to look at trees Propping darkness up to the silence. ~Paul Zimmer from “A Final Affection”
We spent 16 hours yesterday on a ferry going up the inside passage on the British Columbia coastal islands, witnessing whale spouts and splashes. The backdrop consisted of millions of trees in pristine wilderness propping up the sky, the clouds, and the silence we disturbed.
Anywhere I go, I look to the trees and feel immediately among old friends.
It’s the immemorial feelings I like the best: hunger, thirst, their satisfaction; work-weariness, earned rest; the falling again from loneliness to love; the green growth the mind takes from the pastures in March; the gayety in the stride of a good team of Belgian mares that seems to shudder from me through all my ancestry. ~Wendell Berry “Goods”
No one can say I haven’t worked hard enough.
Pulling on the tugs, pushing into the yoke that I willingly allowed to weigh me down,
my ancestry birthed me for this hard work weariness.
But they might say I have lost the gayety in my stride, having hit too many rocks and run head-long into stumps.
They might say the joy lies deeper than my plow can reach.
Beauty is about more rounded substantial becoming,
….an emerging fullness,
a greater sense of grace and elegance,
a deeper sense of depth,
and also a kind of homecoming
for the enriched memory of your unfolding life. ~John O’Donohue from an “On Being” interview
Whenever we wander from home,
witnessing beauty in far flung places,
I find I yearn even more for the homecoming
of memories unfolding
from where they are so neatly stored,
so deep and so wide, so full and filling.