Photo
by Stink Pickle on Unsplash
Every
morning
you’ll hear me at it again.
Every morning
I lay out the pieces of my life
on your altar
and watch for fire to descend-----Psalm 5:3 (The Message—in part)
you’ll hear me at it again.
Every morning
I lay out the pieces of my life
on your altar
and watch for fire to descend-----Psalm 5:3 (The Message—in part)
A
meditation by Macrina Wiederkehr
I
am listening to storms raging out my window, to storms raging in my heart.
I
am listening to all that makes me pull my cloak a little tighter.
I
am listening to trust buried deep in the ground of my being.
I am listening!
I
am listening to the kind of permission of the season to rest more often, to
reflect more deeply, to pray without words.
I am listening to the sacraments of non-doing.
I am listening!
I
am listening to my dreams and inner visions, to the unknown wrapped in the
mystery of my life, to tears trapped in underground streams of my being, to
seeds watered daily in those tears.
I am listening!
I
am listening to the quiet life in winter’s womb. I am listening to winter, nurturing
spring. I am listening to brilliant
winter sunsets and lovely frosty mornings.
I am listening to snowflakes flying through the air, to the cold winds
that often blow out there, to bare trees so lovely in their emptiness, to one
leaf that never did let go.
I am listening!
I
am listening to winter handing over spring. I am listening to the poetry of
winter.
I am listening!
https://youtu.be/U0aL9rKJPr4
