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July 05, 2016

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Why do we never quote the woes to the Scribes and Pharisees? Is it harder to examine our own hearts and easier to judge another's and rest in self-righteousness?

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Engaged

Pray the prayer, feel the dough, warm, sticky, full of life. Our Father, time passes, it rises, only to be punched down. Give us this day, smell it baking, see it rise, browning to done. Our daily bread, smell, texture, as it comes out, we butter the roughness. Given, broken, rising, smelling, tasting, crumbs, rough shell, all given, all made.

Unexpected

Unexpected God, You show up all around us. Help us to be alert. Because there are days we miss you. In the unexpected smile. In the ones we forget. In the streets where those people live. We may just miss the angels singing. The proclaiming song stirred in stars. The wonder of the gifts which surround us. In wandering lost, until we see the wonder of life.

Home

In my heart I'm always home for Christmas. Its the people who share it and not the place Where you spend it. Its the lights on the tree, the gift of laughter, The wonder of the snow, the light in the night. Not the inside building. It is in the hope found in our hearts. It's the carol which we sing out strong. Not the frame. It is visiting the interior of the soul. Where peace and goodwill dwell. Not the places. It is in discovering, once again, anew. The babe lies within us all, waiting For the right time to be born.

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