Searching for the right one

Is such a distraction,

As in the candy store of childhood there seems to be so many to choose from.

 

The ancestor me

Where I came from

The struggles of lives long since gone

In far off places

Of which I have no control, but still I appear either strangely annoyed or vehemently proud.

Together make up my DNA

 

The latest me

Who I want others to think that I am

Strutting around in me fancy new outfit

Whatever that is

Sounding out ‘look at me’ in a visual delight to be celebrated like liturgy

To all my new fans. Thank you for clapping and liking me.

 

The reflective me

When I noticed I took advantage of others. Despicable me.

Made bad decisions or hurt someone by my actions

My most painful me

 

The real me

All of them are me.

The good deeds and the bad ones both, like a couple dancing a jig joined and separated, seemingly random but more consistent than we would like to know.

Seeing and noticing loved ones are both made and related, of how God has truly made us all, but, smiling favorably, sprinkled us with Flavoring from His great salt cellar of humor.

 

Let me give up the search for facts and discoveries

All of which add something and yet confuse me more

And rather look within and without

Not with only eyes and ears

But with agape love of all.

Where the mystery of me begins

And ends in everlasting love.

 

There are thousands of us, who make me up,

what I am, whatever that is.

Seems like my parents would be the closest,

But even they, don’t seem to know who they are,

but rather their parents, rather better.

 

Why am I looking backward to see who I am?

Like a girl in a row boat,

looking back but going forward.

 

I am unsure.

A candle uses only what it needs to stay alit,

no more oxygen than that,

burning at a constant rate,

based on worker bees travail.

 

Once alighted, I brighten a darkened room,

flickering my thoughts,

of a day spent,

and helping others consider ones they own.

 

Reflective, like an interior mirror,

those around me consider and savor the day,

and learn that enjoyment and happiness

reside fully in the present.

 

Not just taking oxygen out,

but outpouring light and warmth.

Smoke; my visible thoughts,

are offered up to God,

as ascending prayers,

vanishing from view, as they are happily received.

 

Teach me the wisdom of the candle.

 

Not the normal blessing,
But a shower of visible grace.
The paperwork arrived;
red from His blood,
a passport smearing our souls. Forevermore.

Voices raised to the full, singing prayers aloud.
Joy streamed through a chapel,
calling us and His name,
in perfect harmony.

Surrounded by love, we are suddenly protected,
and commissioned in instants …
man would call time,
and God calls anointing.

Marks of baptism and confirmation now refreshed,
With inner love and new knowledge,
packed firmly inside, for all to see.

And us to use.

Smoke particles drift upward, merging, mingling,

sweetening the air,

praising as they surround the Word.

 

For just a passing, dissipating, moment.

Water from mountain streams,

makes its way to farm and city dwellers.

 

Purifying, refreshing, rewarding, sustaining,

the simplest and most complex of lives.

People blend into the blur of metropolis.

Going somewhere to find someone to talk to;

in the meantime ignoring each other on their journey.

As if all infected with some disease.

 

But others see meaning in it all.

Seeking, desperately seeking meaning in a life,
creates a thirst beyond satisfying.
We look for the connection, where need is fulfilled totally.

At a well, but without an vessel to drop in,
Or a rope long enough to reach the
clear cool, water of life waiting for us at the bottom.

We long for unity,
with the One who can satisfy me,
in all ways.

To receive those water droplets,
cooling and refreshing as mountain streams
meets me where my need is.

To have complete peace and love.

Is there a limit to love?

So much you cannot stand it

Seems you are going to burst,

Or just a little fragment to hang onto when all seems lost.

 

In an ocean of incomprehensible love,

We pass through currents which draw our souls magnetically,

And wash us up on shores of discontent.

Only to be lapped back into the ocean for sun filled days of plenty.

 

The days when the salt is strong in our mouths,

Healing wounds on our back from sufferings,

Let us know it is true.

 

There is no limit to love.

Love remains.
Staying, not like a stain, something to be pushed off, brushed away, cleaned
rather indwelling in a heart, but more than tissue,
feelings, or fleeting moments.

It stays, remains, as permanent as a memory inerasable,
indelible, but not written anyway, so you cannot see it,
But still it remains.

Waiting patiently for you to notice its presence.

I think I should be looking forward this morning,
Through that bright windscreen already,
Which is somehow dirty and blurred,
And darn it; I am out of washer fluid again.
And late for work.

Of course the sun is right in my eyes,
And not sure if I paid that bill or not yet.
So, I glance in the rear view mirror,
And though smaller, it seems more interesting today,
road disappearing behind me,
But nevertheless felt like it just happened.

Years ago.