They got here early, those tiny
white and yellow
butterflies and
started scouting
in the sun for food and beauty
wherever they
might find them. They,
in turn, provide
both beauty and fine nourishment
for all others
who are hungry
and happen by.
JDG
Today a tiny bird helped me
clean. Seeing cat
hair on the rug
I’d put outside
to shake, he picked and pecked with care,
holding on to
the treasure trove
he’d found there. We
both knew that old Beetles’ song rang
true: “I get by
with a little
help from my fiends.”
JDG
A single bird, silhouetted
against the sky,
flies north as the
sun begins its
slow ascent. Is he flying to
join his flock or
did he leave his
flock behind? For
now his journey, be it short
or long, is a
solitary
one and he so small.
JDG
In its wide embrace, the early
morning sky, for
a moment, held
both rising sun
and setting moon. May we become
spacious enough
to hold both lights
too, knowing though
they rise and set, light still abides
in that constant
sky, even when
we cannot see.
JDG
May our words be candles. May we
honor those slain
and comfort those
hurt and lost in
grief. May our words bring light and lead
us through the dark
to a sacred
space where all are
held. May we find a way to stand
together and
speak only that
which brings forth light.
JDG
In this season of growing darkness, I wanted to share with you the advent reflection that my friend, Susan Wilkes, wrote for St. Stephen’s Church.
Advent Reflection
“Be sure to stand in the fire pit,” my friend, Bob, told me as I was leaving for a pilgrimage to Kildare, the site of Celtic Saint Bridgid’s monastery. Bob had felt a palpable and inexplicable energy when standing in the foundations of Brigid’s ancient fire pit on the Cathedral grounds and wondered if I would feel it too. When I visited, I found the imagery of Brigid’s light everywhere, from the torch in Towne Center to the sculpture at the sacred well of Brigid holding a flame, to the name of the spiritual community there – Solas Bhride, or Brigid’s Light. Standing in the fire pit, I too felt a strong, elemental sense of the divine presence, perhaps because of the devotion of those who maintained the blaze for many centuries and of those who today seek to rekindle the flame.
One of the many legends about Brigid is that she was present at Christ’s birth and, in fact, lit the way with her torch for Mary and Joseph, as the weary travelers entered Bethlehem. Given that she lived in the 5th century, we modern sceptics might dismiss the story as Celtic myth or find our fact-seeking-meters quickly swinging to “mostly false.” But I’m reminded of the saying, “just because it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Thinking of the story of Brigid lighting the way as a metaphor, sets me to wondering what she has to teach us about this season before Jesus’ birth. How might we light the way for the in-breaking of the Sacred into our world still today? What does our devotion to tending the eternal flame look like? Do we know that we too carry a torch capable of bringing Light to even the darkest places? If we believe this ancient story is still happening now, what might we do this Advent?
One of my favorite Mary Oliver poems begins with Buddha’s instructions right before he died, to “Make of yourself a light.” The poet is emphasizing how “he might have said anything, knowing it was his final hour” and how through his words she finds herself transformed, “like a million flowers on fire.” The Christian scriptures also give us words about being or shining a light and invite each of us to become more and more of a manifestation of God’s luminous presence. As we light our Advent candles this year, perhaps we each can reflect on how we ourselves are called in ongoing ways, in the ordinary circumstances of our lives, to illuminate the way for God’s birth into our world.
Susan Wilkes
It’s not always darkest before
the dawn. Just last
night, the dark came
early and spread
its thick blanket over house
and land. But, soon
the moon peeled back
the dark. Tossing
silver light on frost-covered ground,
the bright, full moon
happily stayed
to greet the day.
JDG
The learned mathematician
summed up the need
for subtraction
when he said, ” I
must be willing to give up what
I am in order
to become what
I will be.” This
higher math calls for an approach
anathema
to all who shun
uncertainty.
JDG
Out where I live, we prepared as
best we could for
savage winds, downed
power lines, high
water and fallen trees. We came
through unscathed but
when we think of
others not so
fortunate, grief and gratitude
intertwine for
we know things could
have been reversed.
JDG
Today, as we were driving to school, two of my granddaughters and I began composing a joint poem. I began with the first line, ” May each of us remove one stone,” and then the wrangling about what should follow began. Sami, who was serving as transcriber, finally became exasperated and wrote:
Every five seconds an editation
is leading me to great frustration.
I hope this will finally come to an end
and I can soon put down my pen.
We decided to invite you, the reader, to weigh in with your suggested follow-up to “May each of us remove one stone…” and see where that will take us. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.
JDG
aholdingplace 