Naphtali is a doe set free who brings forth beautiful words.
San Fransisco, California (c) 2011 JEH
When I am undone, untitle me–
deline me, borrow me from another
idea of me. Paint me the colors
you see me. Draw me the shapes I move
through. Any fabric that covers
or uncovers is fine and will
work out in the end for I
am undone and need to be bent–
to some other form of me–
the still untitled me.
Come out, oh words
buried and struggling for
surface
space
air.
Come out. Stop writhing
upsetting my stomach
heart
mind
peace.
Come out and be spoken.
Come live outside of me.
Come show me what you’re made of.
What you’ve got.
Purposeful?
Powerful?
Emotional?
Harvesting a crop of movement?
Come out, oh words, come out.
I am sick when you rumble within me.
There is so much more that I haven’t shared.
Things that happened just today–
a new job, a complicated up set,
a set of sneakers that need to be run.
When my heart is spilling over with heavy
trains and paths and joys,
I only want to sit and share
there is so much more than what you
have seen or read or heard or thought.
And I know there is more of you.
When do we get to dive in?
I tick the minutes
by
singing MY HEART
out
actually
I do
32 singers
in any language
working all
matching
pitches dynamo
vowel sounds and ritmo
unified dignified not a cry
for help
(or all by myself)
full song of
earnest moments
unrolling my
heart
out on some table
someone is building
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m singing.
C: “When offered a snack, take it.”
S: “When offering good advice, take that as well.”
We believe in eating.
This is my step.
It is small.
It is innocent.
It has no pretension.
It doesn’t get me very far.
But as I keep taking it,
I grow adept
and even a little bit proud,
anticipatory
of running.
Each Sunday, when I hear C. John Steer’s British accent inviting me to stand and join with the church in praise of our Great God, I rise with a strong sense of purpose. After a good nine months in his Sunday services, I was beginning to hang my sermon notes at my desk each week. I’d like to share some now.
This week he began a series on heaven and hell, an intimidating subject to say the least. Today’s sermon was a preparation for more. It was really quite genteel ending with a great “Heaven is ahead–hurrah!”
I think one of my favorite quotes from today was “we don’t think about heaven so much because we are too preoccupied with earth.” How ironic that when I’m just beginning Case’s book on God in the everyday, that I be challenged to think of the super spiritual place of heaven?
This is an excerpt I jotted down last month while reading “Jesus Freak” by Sara Miles. I pulled it today from the stack of 3 by 5 cards on my writing desk and I shook my head. This theme just keeps chasing me around.
I spent the last two days listening to heavy “be aware of the times” teaching at a large Women’s Conference. What did I come away with? “God Is Here” by Steve Case, a modern look at Brother Lawrence’s “The Practice of the Presence of God” (a book I read almost exactly 10 years ago). I skipped the books about God in the midst of your pain and how to study the book of Daniel and the truth about sex, and my eyes and my heart went straight to a plain covered, humble book about God at Starbucks. I guess that’s where I’m at…still.
God is in the every day, the here, the now, the computer time, the morning, the evening, the snacks, the walks, the runs, the cries, the laughs, the pie-making, the dish-washing. But that is not the inconvenient part–that I might run right into God as I turn the corner into my kitchen. No, the inconvenient part is that my physical mindedness gets in the way of accepting and judging according to the Spirit. The inconvenient part is that I see the coffee cup and I think about the coffee cup.
Today, when I consider the times, the business of life and hurts therein, when I analyze them and judge them (Luke 12:56-57), I will consider them in terms of how much I engage with God in the common.
*As an aside, I notice the misspelling on the note card. Sometimes I get anxious to write things down before I forget them, resulting in misspelling.
What do you call a seed
of a seed
of
a seed
of a seed?
Sometimes
I call it
today.
I use this phrase at school to tell students they are wanted in the office. I say, “Hey, guess what?! You have been called up, man!” Despite the concern that often rises in their eyes, it does usually help to lighten the mood.
Today, I was called up. Thankfully, not to the principal’s office, but to a Women’s Conference. I was on the waiting list, but I’m not anymore! I’m concerned. What will I find?
The conference is at my local church in town here (written like a true Minnesotan) and I’m attending with my sister Friday and Saturday. Wish me something good.
Naphtalia 