He told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over,
so that nothing may be lost.”
It is part of the miracle: how Jesus, with such intention, cares for the fragments following the feast. He sees the abundance that persists, the feast that remains within the fragments. We might think the marvel of the story is that there is enough for everyone. And yet for Jesus, enough does not seem to be enough. There is more: a meal that depends on paying attention to what has been left behind, on turning toward what has been tossed aside.
Call it the persistence of wonder, or the stubbornness of the miraculous: how Christ casts his circle around the fragments, will not loose his hold on what is broken and in pieces. How he gathers them up: a sign of the wholeness he can see; a foretaste of the banquet to come.
Blessing the Fragments
Cup your hands together,
and you will see the shape
this blessing wants to take.
Basket, bowl, vessel:
it cannot help but
hold itself open
what comes. Continue reading “Blessing the Fragments …”
Mysteriously, as elusive as it is, this moment–where the eye is what it sees, where the heart is what it feels–this moment shows us that what is real is sacred.
— Mark Nepo from The Book of Awakening
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. Continue reading “From Blossoms …”
Breath is the first prayer
That opens us to wind,
Rhythm breaths us
Into the pulse of the world.
Impulse lives in matter,
Body of earth, water,
Air, fire, She knows
The shape of my bones. Continue reading “Breath is the First Prayer …”
[Jesus] also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed
on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would
sprout and grow, he does not know how.”
that you have been holding
for such a long season now;
that ache in your chest
that goes with you
night and day
in your sleeping,
Continue reading “Blessing That Holds a Nest in Its Branches (Easter Meditation) …”
What happens when your soul
Begins to awaken
And your heart
And the cells of your body
To the great Journey of Love?
First there is wonderful laughter
And probably precious tears Continue reading “What Happens When Your Soul Begins To Awaken …”
What would you do with a canvas,
a brush, and colours?
What could you bring to a table set blank
with paints, and space to make your mark,
to leave your print.
I have a feeling He’s given us permission
to pick the paints,
and the colours that reflect us. Continue reading “A Canvas …”
One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day.
— Albert Einstein (memoirs of William Miller – Life magazine, May 2, 1955)
Remembering Winter: The Season in Silence
Ice wine, as every drinker knows, is sweetness made from stress. That’s not news, or not exactly. All good wine takes its essential sugar from the stress of its circumstances: pinot noir, the grape of the cold country of Champagne, gets flabby and soupy as the climate warms. But ice wine is extreme sweetness made from extraordinary stress. Continue reading “A Little Of This Mystery Each Day …”
God as this new year dawns,
Let us see the newness you are birthing.
May we not be blinded by darkness,
Or paralyzed by the fear.
That consumes our world
May we remember:
Out of winter’s night you bring forth light,
Out of winter’s death new seeds emerge. Continue reading “A Prayer of Hope For the New Year …”
As we make ready to eat this food
we remember with gratitude
the many people, tools, animals, and plants,
air and water, sky and earth,
turned in the wheel of living and dying,
whose joyful exertion
provide our sustenance this day. Continue reading “One Heart Grace (Grace Before Meals) …”