Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Do My Cookies Show?

A poem comes to mind this morning that expresses a longing and a desperate hope I felt 27 years ago. I wrote it when I was living in Miami, far from my Rhode Island home.

Do My Cookies Show?

I lived a country life, no locks on the door.
A cookie jar always full,
and an oven always baking more.
It seemed to keep the burglers away,
or if they came and stole a few,
I never knew, and never felt afraid.

Now I am a stranger in the city:
my roots don't want to grow.
Dear God, I wonder,
do my cookies show?
Do the friends I've loved, the prayers sent,
the letters patiently, daringly penned...
Do the words I've spoken
stand unbroken in this new land?

I wear no makeup, city finery,
no jewels in my hair.
But I remember gardens,
gorgeous strings of peas,
and I was there.

And when I walk down the street,
does the road stretch back
to where I've been before?
And God, if I wanted, could I go?

In fact I did go back - we went back - my daughter and I, and got on with building a life that deeply made sense to us. I went back to school, then worked until retirement at a challenging and fruitful job. She grew up, went to college, got married, and now there are four incredible grandchildren.

And yes, those cookies, those poems and prayers, they do stand unbroken - as in heaven, so on earth. Every thought sends forth its own vibration and creates after its own kind. Knowing this, I do not fear my own thoughts and feelings. I actively exercise my imagination and prayer. I listen to my inner guidance to form beautiful ideas. I feel the gratitude flow from me. And I wait in wondrous trust for the next step... and take it.

With love,

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Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Lessons from a bird

This week we are charmed and surprised - sometimes startled - by this tufted titmouse at the window. Apparently his mate's nest is nearby, and he is determined to scare off that bird he sees reflected in the window!

He flies at the window suddenly, pecking and thrusting, sometimes hanging on with one foot while he scratches with the other. I am touched by his determined effort. And at the same time I see what a metaphor this is for the way we humans resist and attack... things that are nothing more than reflections of our own fears.

Lessons from a bird, thank you Lord.