Category Archives: Uncategorized

Mantra

Poetry, Spiritual Direction, Uncategorized

I come into this room
I close the door.
Two beautiful practices,
Too difficult at times.
A way of presence,
To say that I am here, is
To come into this room.

I come into this room,
I close the door.
A way of holding back
The day already full. 
A way of intention,
A way of focus is
To gently close this door.

I come into this room
I close the door.
I open myself and
I take a breath.
For breath is sacred.
The interchange is noticed,
Between the body and the air,
Between the body and the soul.
As I open and release.

I come,
I close,
I breathe.
To sit,
To read,
To listen,
To notice,
To be,
To be with.
It is that simple,
It is that hard.
But, I have come into this room.
I have closed the door.
I am open.
I am here.

Periphery  

Poetry, Uncategorized,

I saw a flock of snow buntings,
Once.  Once, just barely.
How I saw it I don’t know.
White on snow.
It was a slight movement 
That caught my eye.
Then we were gone.
Well on our way.

Look straight ahead
As though you know what to expect,
And where you are going.
Stay your course
…if you must.
But be alert
For what’s to the side
For there the path may lie.

Sit by the light
Reading the book
Studying the words
…but watching the margins
For something not written 
…For some thought that
   …Flits across the page.
Think about it straight on
Make your list of right’s and wrong’s
But don’t forget or pass over
What is niggling on the edge.

Notice the wiggling bush
At the edge of the field
Or the way the grasses sway
Or the hush that descends….
Wait for what is to come.
Wait for the moment,
   for the movement,
     out in the periphery
          That you know you barely see…

And what of the margins
Out on the edge
   …of society?
The people,
Who roost upon the street
Or dine in the dumpster
And move so slowly, 
Like ghosts, 
They live without margin.
So look at your phone, 
And rush on  if you must…
But wonder, oh god, wonder what you miss
If unaware of the side,
As though you were blind.

And what of the times 
We shimmer inside.
Are strangely warmed
By a breeze so soft.
A breeze that holds an invitation
…To something new,
…To something generous
… And generative?
To a special grace?
An Epiphany road
Where we don’t walk alone?

And I hope, someday,
My margins widen,
Ever so slightly,
   Helping me to notice…
      And not ignore.
For I have stood on the rim, 
…and was invited in
          to see the subtleties
    Of Periphery.

_______________________________________

 

Thursday

Poetry, Uncategorized 
Thursday

There is this strange transition
When chasing the very last beams of the beautiful, fading sunset. 
The light dims and quiet fills the space of the final goodbye. 
The sky is void
And I feel empty.
Tears dampen the soil and refresh my soul. Calm and peace slowly descend. 
Each droplet begins to flicker and flash, Casting reflected light upon the leaves, 
the trees, the weeds, 
and the place where the wild flowers grow. 
So with gratitude I realize, internalize, accept
The sun has not succumbed to the night.
No, it has simply begun its orbit of my heart.
Its fire adds to that of my spirit as 
I slowly take my place in the pre-dawn horizon. 

by Katie Faul 6/8/2023
The train home

It is Sunday. I am aboard the train back home and it feels appropriate that I leave with an actual setting sun. But this time it is after a final goodbye complete with a hug, a kiss, and so many tears. It is good to love one so much and to be loved just as much in return. To be known and to actually know some one is a gift. Although, neither of those actually make it easier at the end, but I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the world.

I love you, Grandma, forever and always. I will help bring the light, it is okay to rest now.

Stones

Poetry, Uncategorized

Stones that altars made.
Stones with names engraved.
Memorial stones 
That are a sign.
And those that form a line,
Boundary stones.
Building stones,
Precious stones.

And chiseled from the mountaintop,
Stone for tablet law.
And among the sheep,
Five round, smooth stone,
That are swung, then flung.

Stones that are not bread 
Stones for throwing 
Stones for stoning, 
Stones that could cry out. 

The singing stones
That felt the weight
Of colt and Jesus feet. 

Stones for rolling, 
And a cornerstone, 
That will make us stumble.

All for living stones,
Lively, living, precious, 
Temple Stones that do cry out 
And sing.

I Wonder as I Wander– Week 1 Advent Devotional

A Recovering Evangelical, Advent Devotional, Uncategorized

Why is Christmas so celebrated? It is cherished by so many, myself included. What I have found though is that the reason can be found in what it isn’t. It isn’t the beautiful albeit inaccurate songs, it isn’t the gift giving, it isn’t the decorations, it isn’t the huge meals, it isn’t the people bickering over whether to say ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Happy Holidays,’ it isn’t the loneliness we all try to avoid, it isn’t the loss of loved ones we remember, it isn’t even the inevitable family arguments.

All of those things are integral to some and unavoidable to others, some are pleasant while others are certainly not. But it is so very important to acknowledge that all of those things are present in this season. So how does that help me define my reasons? Well because it is none of those things and all of them. There is a shift… a turning that occurs in me every season and having identified this ‘turning’ has put so much into perspective.

It started in the shower actually. I was trying to figure out what we could do for a program at church when the best Christmas hymn ever written began to play on my streaming service. It was written by Noel Stookey (Peter, Paul and Mary), Christmas Dinner. Even if you know the song, please, I urge you to go listen to it again. I grew up loving this song and the artist that sings in, but this time it was brand new. Did you catch what I missed?

There is a turning! Actually, there are several! This child turned to windows that were glowing with the traditional Christmas scenes, but then this child turned to a window that was only lit with a bare candle. Not a candle set on a windowsill, but a candle on table that lit the tears of a grandmother there. Then the old woman turned to the boy.

The remainder of the song is spent examining their shared celebration and is absolutely lovely. They share out of their lack and together have in full. And that, that right there, in a nutshell is what draws me to the Advent season. When people are willing to turn towards one another then take it one step further to come close, there is the spark of the sacred in that space that is shared.

I think we really are just imitating Christ, because whenever and for whatever reason God turned and looked at us, they also took the step to come closer. Brene Brown, in her uncomfortably poignant understanding wrote, in Atlas of the Heart, “When we are reckless with other people’s stories, we diminish our own humanity.” When Christ came, he wasn’t reckless with our stories, Scripture proves that to us over and over again. No, Christ valued our stories, he was reckless with his own.

We have become so accustomed to sarcasm and the misperception of perfection that sincerity has become rare and vulnerability just as untrustworthy. But we want to see and we want to be seen, why else would social media platforms be so relevant?? I wonder if we have forgotten what it feels like to actually be seen and how it changes us to see others. While riding in the car with my sons, we were listening to The BFG, by Roald Dahl, and a scene that illustrates this was given.

“Somone is bound to see us,” Sophie said.
‘Never is they seeing me,’ the BFG said confidently. ‘You is forgetting that I is doing this sort of thing for years and years and years. No human bean is ever catching even the smallest wink of me.’
‘I did,’ Sophie whispered.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Yes. But you was the very first.’

The BFG by Roald Dahl

Our world is divided by politics… by lines on a map… by differences of opinions… by lack of patience… by the unwillingness to listen and believe other people’s stories. These diversions cause us to move away from one another, to discredit them, to a certain degree ‘cancel’ them. So what we are left with are growing schisms and chasms between us. Do we really want to live this way?

Now, I am not asking you switch football teams or political parties or religions, although goodness knows maybe that is the answer. (From what I understand, the Packers could use some help these days.) I am not even asking you to believe anything new. I am simply hoping you will take a moment or two each day and turn to the person next to you and see them. Think of that small distance between the two of you as the place where the Holy resides. May we lean into that place so that we can find healing for ourselves and, when able, for them too. When you are checking out at the grocery store. Tucking your kiddo into bed. Taking your furry child for a walk. Giving a gift. Receiving a gift. Waving to a neighbor. Passing a person with a different political bumper sticker on their vehicle. Sharing a hug. The opportunities are readily available.

This Advent season, may you receive the peace of Christ and may you turn to those around you to extend that same sacrament.