I am struck by the otherness of things rather than their sameness.
The way a tiny pile of snow perches in the crook of a branch in the
tall pine, away by itself, high enough not to be noticed by people,
out of reach of stray dogs. It leans against the scaly pine bark, busy
at some existence that does not need me.
It is the differences of objects that I love, that lift me toward the rest
of the universe, that amaze me. That each thing on earth has its own
soul, its own life, that each tree, each clod is filled with the mud of
its own star. I watch where I step and see that the fallen leaf, old
broken grass, an icy stone are placed in exactly the right spot on the
earth, carefully, royalty in their own country
Looking for the Differences by Tom Hennen
top photo found at http://www.pinterest.com
photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT
O come thou Mystery,
unseen, unbidden, unfelt,
but so madly needed here.
Come to us
who push you away with our despair,
snare us with wonder.
Come to us, the lonely and broken,
O Small One,
not to solve but to be with.
Come to us who grieve
place or worth or hope,
and find it with us.
Come to us in our smugness
and lay yourself down in the manger
of our secret wounds.
Come to us in our privilege
and let us hang our lives
on a poor little peasant child.
Come to us in our violent fear
and calm us with your tiny voice.
Ask us to love you.
For us who find it hard to love each other,
come and gather us in a circle,
have us care, have us sing.
Come to us, too afraid to need,
be fragile among us,
and let us fall in love.
Neglect our neglect, Emmanuel,
come and be a tiny flame of love among us,
and light our own.