Poem: Praying for Strangers

Praying for Strangers

You are in a strange place,
far from home, familiar and frightening,
silent.

You pray for strangers,
whose hearts you know
only by their words,

who nonetheless, are real to you,
so real that your prayers
carry power

that is not yours
to far away lands that lie
nearby.

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The picture was taken at Lithia Methodist Church, in Lithia, Va. You can click on it for a larger image.

Tom

Poem: Psalm 28:1

Psalm 28:1

There are those who can wait,
whose minds are calmed by the mere act,
the mere knowing that the message is sent.
They are content to wait.

But not most of us. No.
Most of us cry in anguish,
our pain like a fire, burning our heart,

unrelenting, blistering, desperate
to hear more
than God's deafening silence.

=======================

This poem came out of my bible reading this morning. The first part of Psalm 28:1 reads:  ^"To you I call, O LORD my Rock; do not turn a deaf ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who have gone down to the pit."


The photograph was taken at the American Frontier Museum in Staunton, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Nightfall

Nightfall

Slowly the night falls,
draining the color from the sky,
until, shortly, all light will be
no more than a memory

to cling to in the black hours
that come like clockwork.
So easy to forget the day,
to forget the bright colors

of failing day, yet this is God's gift
and reminder that night
is only a passing fancy,
a time to renew, not fret,

To look into our soul
for the spark of God
and his direction,
not into our minds

to dance like madmen
in darkness.

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The picture was taken in Botetourt County, Virgina. You can click on it for a larger version.

The poem was inspired by this morning's bible reading - Exodous 13:23: By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night

Tom

Poetry: Dancing to Gregorian Chants

Dancing to Gregorian Chants

You pray
for the ones you love,
those dearest and distant,
whose laughter warms your soul,
whose touch warms your heart.

You pray
for those who have tried
and failed, tried
and grown
distant, tried
and try still.

You pray
thanks for the tiny gifts
God leaves around your world,
tidbits of beauty and kindness,
easily missed, yet
still a cocoon of love.

You pray
for wisdom, to know things
unknowable, to have faith in the future,
have faith in love,
faith in prayer itself.

You pray
for the peace you experience at sunset,
or in the first waking moments
when you lie beneath the flowered quilt
and listen to the singing of birds
outside your window.

You pray
a song with each small touch
of a hand against yours,
warmth beyond temperature,
a moment
of energy transferred
and created.

You pray
your sadness, of hurt,
of betrayal, of anger,
of wasted love and wasted years,
of scars that do not disfigure,
but pain you nonetheless.

You pray joy,
for a life truly lived,
for all it's flaws and mistakes,
that there is still life to live,
still hope to have,
still surprises and
laughter and candlelight

to light the way as you dance silently
to the eternal rhythm of Gregorian Chants,
songs of deepest devotion,
and prayer.

=============

The picture was taken at a Cathedral in Montreal, Canada. Unfortunately I didn't make note of the name, but you can still click on it for a larger version.

Poem: You Pray

You Pray

You pray each morning,
before the sunrise,
your eyes closed in silent supplication,

for this moment,
lost in time and space,
living in someplace Other, reaching

beyond your own place and power,
in belief that there is more
than you can see, feel and know.

You pray
for your children,
for their safety and strength,

for a wisdom you cannot give them,
that comes only with love and grace,
and the courage to believe.

You pray
for those who cross your path each day,
their needs varied,
sometimes fleeting,
sometimes painfully long.

You pray for those that have hurt you,
whose scars you now bear, aware
that no pain has a single direction,
and that healing takes more than time,
more than grace, more than you are.
and so you pray.

You pray for the one you love most,
whose tender heart aches
with fear and sadness.

And you pray for the strength
to serve, to grow wiser, calmer,
for peace and a heart that loves
more than it fears.

You pray.
Morning and night.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Always.

================

The picture is of the sunrise a day or two ago on the road to Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Morning Prayer

Morning Prayer

Yes,
the prayer reaches God,
but also, it reaches closer,
to those precious souls
you pray for -
your children,
your lover;
caressing them with your love,
magnified.

=================

The picture is from outside my hotel room in Washington, DC, taken just this morning. As a picture it is nothing special, but it caught the spirit of early mornings, when I do my own prayers.

Tom

Poem: Morning Prayers

Morning Prayers

Each morning, early, as you lay in bed,
prayers fill your mind, prayers
first of gratitude, then supplication
less for yourself than others,
for the lights in your life
past and present,

for those struggling
and those with hope
and those who are more history
than a presence in your life, those
who are part of your hopes,
and most of all, those
who have no hope.

And so you pray,
then pry yourself up to face the day.

They rarely know who they are,
those you pray for each dawn,
and yet, God is listening,
and like you, cares for the lights
he loves, and from the far away
that is not distance of miles,
but distance we place between us,
he reaches down
and coddles us in his Michelangelo arms
and leads us, somehow
out of our darkness
despite ourselves.

========================

The picture was taken in the chapel in Wishford Major, in England not far from Stonehenge. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

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Poem: Birthday Prayer

Birthday Prayer

Late on the night of your birthday,
long after the cake,
after the warm gifts,
after the dinner and the play,
after the celebration is done,
and everyone save you sleeps;

In the last hour of the night,
as you lay on the sheets,
and let the cool breeze brush your skin,
and you breath

the air fragrant with flowers
you cannot quite recognize,
aware you are living in a time and a place
that is not quite home,
yet not foreign,

in a life unexpected, unwished for,
yet gracious as only God can be,
full of promise and joy,
an adventure as unfamiliar
as the scents that waft on the air.

And you pray,
a new prayer of thanksgiving
in July.

===========

The picture was taken in the Episcopal Church in Wells, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Information - A unique prayer journal

I liked this article from the Christianity Today web site about a unique and creative prayer journal.

Poem: Gardens of the Heart

Gardens of the Heart

Lush. Green. Silent.
A private place,
not of crowds or talk,
but of silence and listening,
where the heart may speak,
unafraid;

A place so rare, so desired,
that your heart cries for it; and
your nights are filled with dreams
of it's existence,
and it's power to remind you,
that you exist,

that you matter,
to more than yourself,
that your heart is a thing
worth listening to,
more tender than believed,
and more strong.

===========

The picture was taken at Winterthur, in Delaware, in an pine tree garden below the house. The day I took it, the house was busy, but this spot was as quiet and peaceful as it appears, and invited quiet contemplation. You may click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Sacred Space

The following comes from Sacred Space, an interactive prayer site I visit almost daily. It's Irish Catholic and I am an American Baptist who attends a Presbyterian church , but there is something about this site and the sacredness of it's thoughts that makes me look at things differently and often sends me to my own bible to read and think on those things. There is a pureness, a mysticalness to it, that attracts me. Here is a sample:

Jesus said, ‘Take up your cross.' (Mark 8:34-35) It is not something you go looking for in faraway places. Sooner or later the Lord hands us a cross, and our job is to recognize it. For each of us there are events that made a difference. Our sorrowful mysteries will be different for each reader. Maybe it was a meeting with a friend, a lover or an enemy. Maybe it was a sickness, or a triumph. We try to see our life through the eyes of faith, with a confidence that God in his Providence can draw good out of the most awful and unwelcome happenings.

This is true wisdom, to find a faith that can carry us through darkness, doubt, and suffering. They call it the mystical phase of religious development, and many of you who form the Sacred Space community are there.

We all need prayer, and starting from statements such as this, the site leads you through a prayer time that has you looking inwardly at ourselves, and upwardly to God. If you are looking for a new way to start a prayer discipline, you might consider Sacred Space.

Tom

PS - the picture is of a church in Pawlet, VT, taken early in the morning.