The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks
at the sky and sings.
~Joyce Kilmer
I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever. Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; His greatness no one can fathom. ~Psalm 145:1-3 ✝
The last fling of winter is over…
The earth, the soil itself,
has a dreaming quality about it.
It is warm now to the touch;
it has come alive;
it hides secrets that in a moment,
in a little while, it will tell.
~Donald Culross Peattie
In winter the earth sleeps peacefully and sinks “in good oblivion” as it readies itself for another spring. Then morning after morning upon arrival of the vernal equinox, the “new-opened flowers dipped again in God, ” as it were, appear. It seems to me to be the same for us in the changing seasons of our lives for we, too, are dipped again in God whenever we are “new-created” for the next phase of our lives.
“…then I must know that still I am in the hands of the unknown God,
He is breaking me down to His own oblivion
to send me forth on a new morning, a new man.”
~Excerpt from same poem by D. H. Lawrence
In early civilizations the fact that food supplies were soon to be restored was one of the reasons spring’s coming was especially revered. Later on it became significant with the spread of Christianity because Easter falls on the first Sunday after the full moon that follows the vernal equinox. Thus springtime reveals the hidden secrets of the soil, and the risen Christ reveals the secrets hidden in our souls if we but follow Him and listen.
The secret things belong to the Lord, our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law. ~Deuteronomy 29:29 ✝
Such Singing in the Wild Branches
By Mary Oliver
It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb
in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still
and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that’s when it happened,
when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,
and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward
like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed
not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them
were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last
for more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,
is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?
Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.
Lord Jesus, “Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.” ~a line form a Matt Redman song
Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come… ~Song of Songs 2:12a ✝
There are two means of refuge
from the misery of life –
music and cats.
~Albert Schweitzer
This post is in loving memory of Tuxie, our 10 month old kitten, who lost his battle for life today. We have never known a sweeter boy, and it is the greatest of sadness knowing that he’ll never again hug our necks in the night or brighten our days with joy. Goodbye our sweet, sweet boy. We pray you are being held in the loving arms of an angel.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my body and soul with grief. Psalm 31:9 ✝
Today I saw the dragonfly
Come from the wells where he did lie.
An inner impulse rent the veil
Of his old husk: from head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.
His dried wings: like gauze they grew;
Through crofts and pastures wet with dew
A living flash of light he flew.
~Lord Alfred Tennyson
What an absolutely exquisite creature! Such as this winged beauty are so stunningly wondrous that I’m almost left speechless when I see them. Not only are they breathtaking in form and beauty but they are also valued predators in controlling populations of harmful insects. And the fact that their oldest known relatives date back over 300 million years ago seldom fails to bring forward for me images of what earth’s pristine splendor must have been like in the beginning. In addition I find it fascinating that they have been a subject of intrigue on every continent in which they’ve been found and with each civilization that has encountered them. Because of the dragonfly’s unique characteristics such as their agile flight and ability to move in all six directions; their ability to move at an amazing 45 miles per hour, hover like a helicopter, fly backwards like a hummingbird, fly straight up, down and on either side; their ability to exhibit iridescence both on their wings and their bodies to show themselves in different colors; the reality that almost 80% of their brain power is dedicated to sight; and the fact that they are able see in all 360 degrees around them, these ethereal, flying wonders have been the topic of legends as well as symbols for various emotions and physical or spiritual traits down through the ages. What a phenomenal Creator is Yahweh that He brought into being all that dwells here on planet Earth!
Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings… ~Psalm 17:8 ✝
**Photo via Pinterest
St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time-
a day to begin transforming
winter’s dreams into summer’s magic.
~Adrienne Cook
Color has returned to the earth in a few places here in our area; so St. Patrick’s Day has indeed brought a beginning measure of earth’s enchantments. And where there are but few flowers yet, there is the promise of many more.
I arise today through God’s strength to pilot me,
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me.
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me.
God’s hand to guard me.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit, Christ when I arise,
Christ in every heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
~St. Patrick, Patron of Ireland.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations. The Lord is trustworthy in all He promises and faithful in all He does. Psalm 145:13 ✝
**Photos via Pinterest
One by one great drops are falling
Doubtful and slow,
Down the pane they are crookedly crawling,
And the wind breathes low…
~Excerpt from a poem by James Russell Lowell
Rain! Deliciously glorious rain finally came for the first time in many months from the grayness of a late winter’s day, and the drought-ridden soil soaked it up like a sponge. Thankfully this rain was not the child of violent clashes of hot and cold air which can, this time of year, spawn rushing winds or tornados charged with electricity and loud claps of thunder. Instead it tapped softly on rooftops and windows beating out long-awaited, haunting harmonies accompanied only by occasional rolls of muffled thunder and flashes of distant lightning. After the parched ground had drunk in enough, puddles began to form, and from them rain’s captivating smell rose to bless my nose. Scientists may say the scent in rain is petrichor, which is an oil produced by plants, absorbed by rocks and soil, and then later released into the air during rainfall, but I personally think it’s the alluring scent of the Holy One, Yahweh Himself.
Oh, how I’ve missed the rain! I adore it; I always have! And now that I live in a place where rain can be absent for long periods of time, my spirit experiences an aching hunger when it’s gone. So I envy those who live in areas where it rains regularly. There’s just something very comforting and inviting about the sound of rain, the sight of it, the feel of it, and the unmistakable fragrance of it. It has a way of reassuring me that “God’s in His heaven and all’s right with the world,” and if rainy days bless my soul in such a way, I can’t help but believe the earth feels the same sweet joy.
In time of silver rain
The earth puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of Life,
Of Life,
Of Life!
In time of silver rain
The butterflies lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth new leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain
When spring
And life
Are new.
~Poem by Langston Hughes
As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I(God) desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. ~Isaiah 55:9-11 ✝
Everything
by Mary Oliver
I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don’t go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to
keep close and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister
the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I
want to write while crossing the fields that are
fresh with daisies and everlasting and the
ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be
songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything.
Come and see what God has done, his awesome deeds for mankind. ~Psalm 66:5 ✝
**Photo via Pinterest
Go to your bosom:
Knock there,
and ask your heart
what it doth know?
~William Shakespeare
We run; we stumble; we fall; we get up; and somehow we find the stamina to move on again. That same scenario plays over and over again in our lives; so what is it that get us back up on our feet willing to do it all over again?
Is it the hope of wealth or at least sufficiently comfortable numbers in our checkbooks and bank accounts to buy whatever we need and/or want?
Is it the hope of owning a nice car, having a roof over our head, finding food in the pantry, or clothes to put on our backs?
Is it being able to travel wherever and whenever we want?
Is it the hope that scientific theories will one day answer the questions that disturb us?
Or it is instead because we seem to know somehow that a divine power much bigger and smarter has set all this in motion for a reason and that He cheers us on in the face of troubling realities and difficulties?
And isn’t it also because His imploring little voice within us encourages us to finish the race set before us because that is what we are really here for?
At some point in time, do we not begin to perceive divine threads in the fabric of life?
Do not these threads in the tapestry gather together enough gladness and joy so we that can find the strength and courage to face trials, disappointments, and defeats?
Isn’t it the perception of these divine threads that keeps us willing to run again, stumble again, to fall again, to get up again, and to move on again even when we are hurting or become disheartened or grow weary?
Do we not come to realize that life is not just an end in itself but instead a preparation for something more, even if the something more is not clearly defined? And as strange as it may seem, after a while in our heart of hearts do we not become aware of a sense of awe of and growing gratitude for the very “race” that often torments us?
Life just has to be worth more than material gain, more than temporal pleasures, more than the noisy, senseless endurance of the perverse, violent, and/or mundane. In moments of utter silence and stillness in an emptied mind we can, can’t we, hear that reassuring little voice that calls to us urging us on because all this isn’t some pointless game, a worthless hour upon a harsh stage, “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” And does not what our heart “doth know” tell us something of a loving Creator’s sacred purpose. Don’t we do it because as Marianne Williamson says, “We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us.”
But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth. ~Exodus 9:16 ✝
**Images via Pinterest
It was one of those March days
when the sun shines hot
and the wind blows cold:
when it is summer in the light,
and winter in the shade.
~Charles Dickens
The vernal equinox, official start of spring, is still 7 days away, but there are signs of its coming. And with each new green shoot Creation’s heart beats stronger, God’s ancient utterances grow louder, and the potential for lifting humankind’s spirits increases. As the sanctuary of earth and sky throws open its doors, doors once “frozen” in wintry bondage, the introit to the full ceremonial form of springtime’s metaphorical “high mass” is beginning. Presiding over the opening ceremonies are their highnesses, the avian cardinals. With the arrival of the equinox on the 20th, other “clergy” donning different vestments will appear, and they too will perform their holy sacraments upon earth’s hallowed altars. Currently only chants can be heard echoing close to the ground or reverberating near branch and cane. However the rest of spring’s holy voices will soon join in, and their loud arias will climb garden walls and charge over hedgerows. As ever increasing waves of spring’s sweet sounds cross the land, they will be discernible to some extent even in the mighty cement jungles of commerce. Despite clouds of spiritual pollution, the light that was in the beginning will break forth anew, and sounds of the eternal will be able to be heard above the cacophonous noises of humanity’s hectic busyness. Earth’s quiet, eternal rhythms still proffer wholeness, harmony, and healing in the maelstrom of madness within today’s “cultural currents.”
God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding. ~Job 37:5 ✝
**Image via Pinterest
Sacred Touches 