Thursday, November 18, 2010

Sunrise

The coldness of the night
Robbed you of sleep.
Memories, regrets,
Worries, fear,
Fretfulness.
Solving the world’s problems
From under the covers.
Minutes tick away
And you are no closer
To peace
Than you were at bedtime.

As you drift
In and out of sleep
A light
Soft, at first,
Touches your cheek.
Just the first glimmer
Of daylight
Begins to warm your cheek,
Your heart,
With Father’s love.
Gently
He spreads His light
Across your face
And strokes you hair.
He spreads His love
Across your heart
And erases the hurt.

With the light
Comes peace.
This morning His mercies are new.
But why should today
Be any different?

Friday, November 12, 2010

Contents:

While cleaning out my purse
For the first time in months
I find ...

A post-it note with a phone number
And a first name
That goes with a face I no longer remember

A paperclip
Good for holding things together
Unless it floats alone

One last cracker
Still in celo wrap
From a pack I opened
While waiting for
Another delayed lunch date

Perfume
A gift for my birthday
(But we won't discuss my age)
Several years ago
Back when gift-giving was still done

Two ticket stubs
From the last movie we saw together
And discussed until wee hours of morning
We disagreed on the ending
Whether it was right for the characters
How they had grown
And where they were in their lives
Should they have stayed together?
I said no
You said yes
And there was really no in-between

There rarely is
Really
For two who have grown so close.
How do you ungraft a tree
Without cutting it down?

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Thanksgiving

Greeted by the aroma
Of sage and cinnamon
Coffee and cake, turkey and herbs,
Potatoes and yams,
Comfort and joy.
Woodsmoke and leaves,
Clear sky, fresh air.
Welcome home.
Embrace, sit,
Holds hands and say grace.
Thank you God for . . .
Words tumble end over end,
Then awed silence.
Gratitude.
Bright sunlight until twilight.
Candlelight.
Thankful to be together.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Be a Rose

I enjoy visiting estate homes such as Reynolda House or Biltmore Estate.  I am always intrigued by the creativity of the décor.  It is fun to imagine the grand parties of years ago.  And I especially enjoy seeing the kitchen and the servants’ quarters.  It makes me thankful for the conveniences we have.

Of course, many such tours include a visit to the gardens, always the least interesting part of a home tour to me.  I’m not much of a botanist, so hearing about the myriad varieties of lily or iris cultivated on the estate rarely holds my attention.

But I do remember one garden tour that made quite an impression on me, where I was introduced to a rare variety of violet.  As we stood in that muggy greenhouse, the man in the official-looking cargo shorts told us about the plant, its usual habitat, and other facts.  All the while, he touched the tender leaves, almost absent-mindedly while he continued to look at each of us.  But as he touched the violets, a most unusual thing happened: the blooms closed.  It was as if they were hiding, ducking for cover.  After a moment, each would reopen, until the gardener touched them again.  He invited each of us to do the same, which we eagerly did.  After a while, the blooms would close not only at our touch, but upon our approach.  It looked like they were wincing.  It turns out that this is the plant’s only defense mechanism as it grows quietly on the jungle floor.

Most of us know how that feels.  We have been bumped or bruised, on the job, by friends or family, at church. People have hurt us without even meaning to, without realizing it.  But that doesn’t make it hurt less.  And after a while, we learn to distrust people, and we forget how to stand up for ourselves.  We don’t let anyone get too close.  It’s just easier that way. 

I probably don’t strike many people as shy, but I can tell you that at one time I hid.  It was my only defense.  I became a violet.  Maybe you have, too.

But I have learned recently that I was not made to be a violet.  What I was meant to be is a rose.  A rose is beautiful, strong, and able to protect itself.  A rose stands tall and proud in the sunlight.  It has thorns to protect itself from injury – and the fact that everyone knows that roses have thorns is in itself a wonderful defense.  People automatically handle roses with care.  Yet a rose will draw people to it with its beauty and the promise of sweetness.  The first thing most people do when they see a rose is stick their nose in the middle and inhale deeply.  Hey, I’ll even stop to smell the plain commercial roses at the grocery store in hopes that they will smell like something other than a freezer case.  And each rose is unique, even if they all grow on the same bush.

That’s the way we should be.  So sure in our beauty, proud of who we are, confident in what we have to offer.  Think of the gifts you have been given, the talent or skill.  Stand tall, open up, invite people in, and know that you deserve to be handled with care.  You have a lot to share with those around you.  Don’t save it for yourself.  Don’t be a shrinking violet.  Be a rose.