psalms
I had a good chat with Sr. Theresa today. It's been quite a while since I've done that, and I think it is no coincidence that I bumped into her crossing the street on Thursday - an event which led to our meeting today. It's also no coincidence that I spied a book lying on her desk during our conversation; Sister shared the following two psalms from this book, Aotearoa Psalms by Joy Cowley. Thank God for my fascination with all things New Zealand. (Okay, primarily the All Blacks... =P ) The psalms really spoke to me, so I share them with you too. Here they are:
48. Kenosis (The relinquishment of the form of God by Jesus in becoming man and suffering death.)
Jesus, dear brother
how well you knew
the seasons in your life.
God planted in flesh,
you grew and flowered for thirty years
for three years of seeding
and that final emptying
of yourself.
Jesus, I need your sense of timing.
I am so keen to grow
that I want all seasons at once,
to flower, bear fruit, die to self,
before self is fully grown.
I know that only the mature plant
can come into fruiting
and yet here I am,
reaching out for tomorrow,
ignoring the small plant
which needs nurturing,
which constantly cries out:
"What about me?"
Gift me, Jesus, with the wisdom
of those thirty years
of growing and waiting
and show me the importance
of loving myself.
I need to know that the hungry ego
is not an enemy to be destroyed.
It is a manisfestation
of my need for growth.
I must draw life into myself
and mature to the fullness
God has planned for me.
When my time is come,
my ego will split wide open
like the ripened seedpod
it should be
and empty itself
for others.
50. Release
It was a bit like
the opening of a tomb, really,
the lids of the cage pulled back
and quick bright life spilling out
with an eagerness to fly.
As I watched the wingbeat
of those pigeons, I felt murmurings
against the bars of my heart
All the love imprisoned within me
fluttered for release. Blessings unspoken,
smiles concealed, acts of kindness
which had never got off the drawing board,
clamoured for the light of day.
I wondered about the cost
of opening the cage
and letting love spread its wings.
I felt a bit frightened.
When I'd given everything away,
could I live with an empty heart?
What I'd forgotten, of course,
was the homing instinct of love,
and how, unlike pigeons,
love always returns
with more than it takes away.
The other thing I forgot
was how love enlarges the heart
to take its increase,
multiplying and enlarging,
multiplying and enlarging,
until the little cage
is as big as the Kingdom of Heaven.
Okay, Lydia and Diana have just arrived at my place, and I smell Brian's Chicken Curry from the kitchen... =)
48. Kenosis (The relinquishment of the form of God by Jesus in becoming man and suffering death.)
Jesus, dear brother
how well you knew
the seasons in your life.
God planted in flesh,
you grew and flowered for thirty years
for three years of seeding
and that final emptying
of yourself.
Jesus, I need your sense of timing.
I am so keen to grow
that I want all seasons at once,
to flower, bear fruit, die to self,
before self is fully grown.
I know that only the mature plant
can come into fruiting
and yet here I am,
reaching out for tomorrow,
ignoring the small plant
which needs nurturing,
which constantly cries out:
"What about me?"
Gift me, Jesus, with the wisdom
of those thirty years
of growing and waiting
and show me the importance
of loving myself.
I need to know that the hungry ego
is not an enemy to be destroyed.
It is a manisfestation
of my need for growth.
I must draw life into myself
and mature to the fullness
God has planned for me.
When my time is come,
my ego will split wide open
like the ripened seedpod
it should be
and empty itself
for others.
50. Release
It was a bit like
the opening of a tomb, really,
the lids of the cage pulled back
and quick bright life spilling out
with an eagerness to fly.
As I watched the wingbeat
of those pigeons, I felt murmurings
against the bars of my heart
All the love imprisoned within me
fluttered for release. Blessings unspoken,
smiles concealed, acts of kindness
which had never got off the drawing board,
clamoured for the light of day.
I wondered about the cost
of opening the cage
and letting love spread its wings.
I felt a bit frightened.
When I'd given everything away,
could I live with an empty heart?
What I'd forgotten, of course,
was the homing instinct of love,
and how, unlike pigeons,
love always returns
with more than it takes away.
The other thing I forgot
was how love enlarges the heart
to take its increase,
multiplying and enlarging,
multiplying and enlarging,
until the little cage
is as big as the Kingdom of Heaven.
Okay, Lydia and Diana have just arrived at my place, and I smell Brian's Chicken Curry from the kitchen... =)
