surrender
Mid-September. The sunrise is getting late, creeping around the side of the house a little farther each day. Garden leaves 
are curling. A new set of kids are waiting for the bus now. This morning they are finally willing to wear coats. A sheet is draped over the morning glories on the mailbox against the night cold. In the meadow the rising sun lays its yellow fan among the trees, the grass the color of the rising sun. Trees begin to emerge from the solid green of summer into different shades of yellow and ochre, some reds. Here and there a tree goes ahead, a single branch flames out. Overhead a squiggle of geese pass by, schoolgirls chattering on their way south, only at the moment they’re headed east. The Panellis have built a ramp up to their front porch. The flowers in the pot that I broke are doing OK in the new pot I stuck them in, though it’s too small. The old pieces are still lying there, behind the corner of the porch. I need to call my sister. In the early morning the ornamental grasses wear little crowns of light.
Surrender looks different for each of us.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Days of wine and focus
of hanging on
of seeking strong
of keeping faith
of sitting still
of being silent
of standing in my own shoes
of letting go
of allowing the mystery
of hearing the call
of accepting what is
of not crossing borders or boundaries
of opening and opening
of trusting the journey
of seeing the face of God
of surrender into something bigger than I can know
of making the daily commitment
of acknowledging the grace
of thanking for everything
of looking for the miracles
of talking to trees
of taking time to prepare
of expressing my love
of helping in time of need
of following my own path
of obedience rather than sacrifice
of taking my shoes off for the holy
of love and love and love
of all things love
AL 9/17/13
life: acoustic & amplified 