The old home sinks slowly
into the ancient Dakota soil.
Year after year it lowers itself,
year after year it shifts downward,
till it looks like a face with clear eyes
holding an inner wisdom
unknown to those who observe the descent.

Year after year
the house sinks slowly,
while the rocks and stones
ascend as though overdue,
these unmoving, solid
stationary minerals
rising to declare their presence.

I saw my grandchild
move in deep silence
as it stretched below
my daughter’s heart.

I contemplate this child
whose history is ahead of mine…
whose influence has arrived
and helps me see… again.

This child,
the incarnation
of love from two,
from four,
from eight
pulls us close to what we know
but cannot see.

And having stretched
it waits
a holy waiting
to see the mystery
it has heard.

So we wait with this child,
we wait as the last robins fly
and as the wind plants gold,
we wait to see God breathe,
the mystery and to hear.

It was autumn and I had been sitting outside by the lake and the yellow birch leaves  would fall every time a breeze came through. We traveled to be with my daughter about six weeks before she was due to deliver her first baby, and I watched the magic of the baby stretch and of my daughter becoming a mother – both holy things.

Walking prayer,
is heard by God…
feet giving voice…
padding slowly
as pilgrims
travel
in journey
to Him

Silent
centering prayer,
so still
to mirror
what is real,
to collect that
self, which shows
Him clearer

Welcome prayer,
embracing
the stories,
each chapter,
and each word
of this tale
…this yet unfinished
book of life

Breath prayer,
that intimate
resuscitation
with just a word
or two.
Oh, Breath of Life,
bring life to me.

Examination,
at days end
to find
a grateful
expression
of recognition;
the Covering
that has kept me.

Painting
or poem,
heart to hand,
a creative prayer
meant to share,
a gift to be given
and prayed again.

This poem has left out so many ways to connect with God!  But, how grateful I am that there are so many ways to connect and be present with the Lord.

I saw
this butterfly
emerge from her cocoon…
so vulnerable,
she held on to what
had held her…
long enough to
see a different self.
then slowly strengthened
she let go
to trust the gift
of who she is
and the Wind
who gives her flight.

There is an important pause between transitions or on a threshold that are necessary pauses.  Periods of waiting before the next step.  That time between the times, between the seasons where we look around and see that there is something new and valuable, and that we are ready to let go.  

(Above photo taken by Timothy Herbert….my son.)