life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “compassion”

what if?

 

 Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
– Leo F. Buscaglia

   
 Job’s wife said to him, “Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.” 
         

But he said to her, “You speak as any fool would speak. 
         

Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?”
                  —Job 2.9-10

   

      By the grace of God 
         

Christ tastes death for everyone’s sake.
                  —Hebrews 2.9

The question is not why there is suffering:
why shouldn’t there be?
Should there be no germs or earthquakes?

Should life be free of risk, or pain, or tears,
free of choices or freedom, but only directed by God?

Is pleasure always good, pain always bad?

Isn’t suffering necessary for love?

What would “deserving” be?

Would we want a God continually judging us,
the Dispenser Of Suffering And Reward?

Can God actually control suffering or pleasure?

Why is speaking in public, or being alone,
 heaven for one and hell for another?

A blind person I know rebuffs our sympathy:
what we call suffering she does not.

What if one experienced sickness not as suffering 
but a time to accept mortality, to draw near to God, 
a Sabbath?

Who “allows” evil or injustice, war or poverty? 
Who “allows” suffering when we eat meat? 

If a person suffered for their evil,
 could God not comfort them, relieve their sorrow or pain?

Or isn’t that the one thing God promises:
 not to make our lives exactly as pleasurable as we deserve
but to be with us in it all?

There is evil because we are imperfectly loved;
 sometimes we can’t bear our hurt, 
but project it onto others.

How does God deal with evil? 

By being with us in our pain, to heal it
 so we may stop spreading it.
 God suffers with us, “tastes death for everyone’s sake.”

There is no “reason,” nor need there be. 
There is no need for labels of “good” and “bad.”  
There is only gracious presence for all,
and the love that is willing to suffer for others,
 the saving grace of the cross.

Rather than question suffering,
 receive it as part of life, 
enter into people’s pain and the suffering of the world,
 and absorb it, so it may stop spreading —

and you will find God there.

 

__________________

 
Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

 

True love begins when nothing is looked for in return.

—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

🔹

I want you to remember

I will always love you

Love does not forget

The sun will shine tomorrow

Don’t look back and regret 
Please won’t you remember 

rainy skies and grey days

Some times you will get

there’s always sun to follow

Then rainbows I predict 
I hope that you’ll remember

Love is really true

Sing and please don’t fret

The sun it shines, although 

you may not see it yet

🔹

AL

 

Listen to Little Anthony sing Tears on my Pillow  http://youtu.be/uxjQ3M_v7xc

🔹

photos found at www.pinterest.com

what matters most 

 THE ANCIENT DREAM

She has come to sense the inner world goes deep, indeed deeper than the wounds and breakages that others inflict. The contemplative has broken through to that sanctuary in the soul where love dwells. Crucial to this contemplative journey is the trust and imagination to realize that regardless of how you have been damaged, there is within you a sanctuary of deep love, trust and belonging. This is the ancient dream, the masterpiece of divine creativity: the creation of the human heart. Before time – back in the winter of nothingness and then all through the infinite springtime of evolution – the dream was the birth of an intimate well of kindness, care and love in the world, dwelling in the tabernacle of the human heart. 
🔹

John O’Donohue 

Excerpt from BEAUTY


 dear lord in this time of darkness
help us see the darkness
dear lord help us to not pretend

no more pretending
dear lord may our gaze be defenseless 

and unshardable 
teach us the piety of the open eye 
dear lord in this time of darkness

may we be unafraid to mourn and together and hugely
may dignity lose its scaffolding

faces crumble like bricks
dear lord let grief come to grief
and then o lord help us to see the bees yet in the lavender

the spokes of sunlight down through the oaks
and the sleep-opened face of the beloved

and the afternoon all around her 

and her small freckled hands

🔹

Prayer by Teddy Macker

 

Hearts out searching for a home
that one place where we belong

it’s a cold dark night here lately

but I have seen the light

home is your arms 

holding me tight
deeper and deeper into the beautiful 

waking my heart to sing this song

fly with me as flames grow higher

passion flaming deep desire

touching us on this dark night
There are times when life goes hazy

that place we all fall down

life can be so hard my baby

will you hold the line tonight?

open up your heart and fight 
we can do it together

love’s the place where dreams come true

we can make it together 

I believe we can make it

through 
there is hope in this moment 

there is hope in the sky

when days go dark and lonely baby

as long as stars are burning bright

there is hope

there is hope, ’cause

they burn for you

oh baby 

we can make it through

🔹

AL

Listen to Time of the Season by The Zombies http://youtu.be/wG5R7vyu-mA

 

photos found at www.pinterest.com 

becoming one

The sojourning spirit is deep within each of us, if we’d listen, but it is not fundamentally about finding ‘the job’ or ‘the voice’ or ‘the degree’ or ‘the position’. The journey, at least as I know it, is a journey to union. It is a journey from fragmentation to wholeness, a journey from exile to home, a journey from attachment to union, a journey from hiding to “being hidden” in Christ, a journey from neurosis to theosis.    – Chuck deGroat

   
    
    
 

being alive 

 

 What is this hand in me, hanging on,
grabbing for what I do not need?
The clinging hand, white knuckled, fretting,

leads me and gets stuck in narrow places. 
Grasping, be done. That yearning,

die in me. That whole hand, cut it off. Let it go.
The hand to possess, the foot to be elsewhere,

the eye to colonize, let them go. I am already myself. 
Away with longing forever to be otherwise.

Better to enter life—yes, come in, come all the way in—
than stay in the grave the hand holds tight,

the unquenchable fire of always needing more.
Bend my wanting of trinkets, God. Give me thirst 

for what is poured into me. 
Unable to add to my infinite life,

I will only be this, alive. 
__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

 

  photos found at www.pinterest.com

September’s Still Remembering

 

 This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight; 
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves; 

The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves, 

And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows. 

Under a tree in the park, 

Two little boys, lying flat on their faces, 

Were carefully gathering red berries 

To put in a pasteboard box. 

Some day there will be no war, 

Then I shall take out this afternoon 

And turn it in my fingers, 

And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate, 

And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves. 

To-day I can only gather it 

And put it into my lunch-box, 

For I have time for nothing 

But the endeavour to balance myself 

Upon a broken world. 

🙏🏻

September, 1918 by Amy Lowell

   
Listen to September Grass by James Taylor http://youtu.be/1lMJyn1YtcA

❤️

Photos found at www.pinterest.com

 

 Peace in Our Hands by Valerie Lorimer – find her artwork on Etsy

of mothering  

“Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother” (Matthew 12:50).

 

My love, do you hear that music, the one where we dance and your steps are light and you swing?

 

You mother in the quiet places and in the moments when it is loud and it feels impossible to hear. You mother in the choices, the choices to love beyond yourself, the sacrifice that comes with friendship, the nurturing of an arm across a shoulder, the carrying of beauty within you, the permission for Me to care for you, to pour love into your heart so that the ripple of my love continues.

 

A waterfall begins with a drop, and then a cascade, a drifting through quiet places, a collection until the drops pour past, all together. Mothering happens in the combination of Me holding you in my hands and letting my fingers open a bit to let you pour out what I give.

 

You can only mother from what I give.

 

Mothering is a collection of hopes for the future, a belief in good things and the willingness to go to the hard places for those you love. It is the shepherding of children, the gathering of expectation for a future that is to come.

 

It is faith in possibility for people beyond yourself.

 

To mother is to press in and give out and never give up. It is to hold on tight and let go, all at once. It is to walk beside and listen close and not fall away, even though the pain comes and it is hard to stay.

 

To mother is to stay.

 

And the staying isn’t what you think it looks like sometimes. It is the supporting of the one you hold close while believing it isn’t always you who knows the way.

 

In mothering, without Me, you don’t know the way.

 

To mother is to trust and laugh and cry and wave good-bye. It is to come again, despite rejection. It is to provide, when you feel you have nothing to give. It is to look beyond yourself for strength and feel frail and helpless and fall and believe that you will be caught so that you can lift your knees and see what is before you, the Son.

 

Mothering is not just about bearing a child. It can be that but it is not just that. You mother through loving whom I bring your way. Come on, daughter, look whom I bring.

http://www.gatherministries.com/loop

 

So, I really didn’t want to do this blog today. It’s a hard one for me. I tried to do something easier, lighter…anything but this, but it was insistent…

The past few weeks I have found myself in conversations with 6 or 7 grieving mothers. Mothers grieving, angry, disappointed, hurting, ashamed over the loss of their children. All different stories, all the same feelings. 
I know those feelings well. I wrote the following piece a few years ago about my own loss – I began the grieving  process in 2006, 9 years into my loss of everything I ever loved, and that work continues every day. I am sharing this in hopes it may help someone going through similar pain. 

💔

I try to clean up

pick up pieces of myself

from all over the frozen ground

Who knew hearts can turn into

Slivers of glass

dangerous to handle

Slice my fingers

I rub tears from my eyes

and find toxic rivers

Red flows 

Staining all of life

Small killing shards everywhere

Thousands

Maybe millions

They stick to the inside of my chest

My throat

Puncture my lungs

Settle in my stomach 

as I try to eat breakfast 

It’s getting harder and harder to speak

To breathe

To stand

I fall face first into a pool 

Of freezing water

The glass becomes ice 

Eventually I crawl out of the water

but the ice remains 

a solid block I live with

for 9 years 

Containment my highest priority

Walking dead 

until that box breaks open

I begin to grieve

and begin slowly melting 

Fusing shattered pieces

absorbing them into 

the fabric of my living

Im still working on it

Still looking for the fire of love

to refine the gold

Scars show the hearts broken places

for glimmers of light to shine through

As grieving begins it’s healing work

And I become human 

for the first time

❤️

AL

I have no quick fixes, or advice, here. Just a thought of hope, of choosing to stand strong in love and the blessings mothing brings. Go deep with your grief. Nurture yourself. Allow yourself to heal. Never forget:

Love always wins….

 

photo sources @ www.pinterest.com 

we came here

 

 Proof of Heaven

this was the reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little you may know me better there.      – Aslan
We are brought places so that we may know God, just a little, better here in this broken world. We are given glimpses, shaded bits of glory, the pieces we are ready for, come to us, changing our lives forever, as we attempt to absorb this brilliance, so far beyond our understanding. We grapple and try, to open our minds ever wider. We try to share, in ways we are able, this new understanding, this life changing knowledge, knowing how difficult it is to understand. We could never have understood these things happening before we went through it for ourselves, yet we also know it is too important to keep to ourselves, and we understand that, IF we, who are just ordinary people, have experienced this, (and we cannot deny we have) then it is possible for others as well. 
And so, we try. We put it into inadequate words and we share it however we are called, this unexpected knowledge we have been given, even as we are just a bit embarrassed at the position it puts us in. It seems like it was a little simpler before these revelations. Yet it is also the best gift we have ever experienced and we just want others to know, to share it, to open to amazing grace. As Anne LaMotte says, ‘God’s grace comes to us right where we are, but never leaves us there’. 
When we find fellow travelers, who have experienced similar things, it is joyous and wonderful to share. It gives us strength, hope and allows us to open ourselves to even more of the unlimited possibilities which are ever present and possible as we move through this place and into the place where we are so intimately known, so completely beloved and so permanently connected. 
AL

 

Listen to Carrie Underwood sing How Great Thou Art http://youtu.be/3X6IzGDoGwo

Photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

better, best, best-est

  
Tired and hungry, late in the day, impelled

to leave the house and search for what

might lift me back to what I had fallen away from,

I stood by the shore waiting.

I had walked in the silent woods:

the trees withdrew into their secrets.

Dusk was smoothing breadths of silk

over the lake, watery amethyst fading to gray.

Ducks were clustered in sleeping companies

afloat on their element as I was not

on mine. I turned homeward, unsatisfied.

But after a few steps, I paused, impelled again

to linger, to look North before nightfall-the expanse

of calm, of calming water, last wafts

of rose in the few high clouds.

And was rewarded:

the heron, unseen for weeks, came flying

widewinged toward me, settled

just offshore on his post,

took up his vigil.

                               If you ask

why this cleared a fog from my spirit,

I have no answer.

🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂

A Reward by Denise Levertov 

 

            Day ends, and before sleep
                         when the sky dies down, consider

          your altered state: has this day

            changed you? Are the corners

         sharper or rounded off? Did you

       live with death? Make decisions

   that quieted? Find one clear word

            that fit? At the sun’s midpoint

    did you notice a pitch of absence,

        bewilderment that invites

          the possible? What did you learn

     from things you dropped and picked up

         and dropped again? Did you set a straw

     parallel to the river, let the flow

            carry you downstream?

🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂🔂

Questions Before Dark by Jeanne Lohmann

   

 
Photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT

just a thought

 

 Strange to realize 
on our very worst day of life

someone else is having their very best day 

Every death 

is countered with birth, 

Every grieving tear 

with belly laughter

On the night we see the stars fall

the sun is rising on the other side of the world. 

The human spirit cannot be conquered

we rise again,

and again, each time we fall 

Tides come in

tides go out, over and over

With every broken heart

there is an answering new moment of love

For every first kiss 

a final slamming of the door – 

figuratively and/or literally

For every threshold we cross

we must cross another in a new moment

there are always new crossings

We each have moments of glory 

moments of defeat

Worry is always a paper tiger 

stripping our moments of joy

Illusions of control hide behind our eyes

always revealed to be a waste of our precious resources

our time here is too valuable to waste on such things

There is a time for every season

In all, we are to bring praise,

as sacrifice – as gift –

this simple act

the amazing hat-trick to the healing of our wounds 

when, in every single circumstance, 

we stand in the, 

sometimes difficult, 

sometimes brilliant,

beauty, kindness and truth of that very moment

and give thanks. 
AL

 

   

  Listen to George Harrison sing Give Me Love http://youtu.be/s-KAvPbO8JY
🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌏

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513

when we grow afraid we forget 

 
 I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.

I want to free what waits within me

so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear

without my contriving.
If this is arrogant, God, forgive me,

but this is what I need to say.

May what I do flow from me like a river,

no forcing and no holding back,

the way it is with children.
Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,

these deepening tides moving out, returning,

I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels

into the open sea.
I, 12 [I believe in all that has never been spoken] by Rainer Maria Rilke. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

  
      
How can you not see it,

if you stand still enough,

or walk out far enough:

the light shimmering from every leaf,

the actual hardness of every stone?

This stone says something

of humility and presence, 

of where it came from, and the belly of stars,

but it stays silent to draw you nearer.

We are, all of us, even the thin geranium

on the back stoop, reaching up

for light, for life, for beauty, 

singing out with the great silent voice

of the immense glory of being,

the long, amazing story

and a love story it is.

Without your having to remember—

such a gift, such a gift—

your lungs open to the world

and take in life, each moment.  

Who gave you that?

How can you not sing, even in silence?

When we grow afraid we forget,

we wear protective layers 

of things to believe, things to do,

so many things to do,

so that we don’t come too near

and catch fire. 
_________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

 
  (I agree, Mary Oliver…hum, hum)
Listen to Mat Kearney sing Closer to Love http://youtu.be/EMRXXBGotnw

🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀

Photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

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