Cocooning time

After a while of deeply engaging my reflective writing practice I find that I enter a season of needing to be still, to give my words a chance to rest. It becomes a time for me to enter into a cycle of listening and practicing being fully present to my little corner of the world with out constantly being "on the look out" for the next great poetic topic. It is a time for me to enter my own little cocoon of everyday life letting the practice of living through just being nourish and nudge me to my next place of contemplative focus.

Another season of needing to rest and listen has entered into my life.  It is time to honor that need and let Chaplainhood enter it's cocoon so to speak, waiting on the transformative beauty that comes. 

In this time of Holy pause may you:

• remember to pause each day to look up, breath deep and wonder
• see the good work of God going on all around you
• connect to the great Hope that is promised in God's beloved presence with you.

Until we pause and play here again......

Busy Bees

I invite you to pause for a moment and take some time for some contemplative play.

Start by letting this image fill your mind as you focus on your breath and letting yourself slow down into this time and this space.  Letting your breath and this picture be all that you attend to right now.

How might this busy bee help you reflect on the busyness in your own life? Is it busy that works for the good of all, like this little pollinator? Or is it busy for the sake of busy? Something else?

Consider these questions also:

What do you see?
What colors stand out to you? Why?
What does your imagination do with this picture?
What words come to mind?
What favorite quotes from your favorite spiritual literature come to mind?


I invite you to join in conversation with me in the comments below what has come of your contemplative play time today.

As Sure As...

As sure as the sun rises,
You are with me God.

As sure as the wind blows,
You God, are giving Holy breath to my soul.

As sure as the summer heat flames,
You God are fanning the flame of my
desire to spend more time in Your presence.

As sure as the rains will come,
You God direct me to Your words
written by inspired people.
Words to nourish and refresh my spirit.

As sure as I draw breath every day,
You God will journey with me.
And I will come to know you even more.

AMEN.

Damaged or Beautiful?

I invite you to pause for a moment and take some time for some contemplative play.

Start by letting this image fill your mind as you focus on your breath and letting yourself slow down into this time and this space.  Letting your breath and this picture be all that you attend to right now.

What is your perspective - are these leaves damaged or beautiful? How does your perspective impact how you see God working? How does your perspective impact how you reflect God in your own everyday life?

Consider these questions also:

What do you see?
What colors stand out to you? Why?
What does your imagination do with this picture?
What words come to mind?
What favorite quotes from your favorite spiritual literature come to mind?


I invite you to join in conversation with me in the comments below what has come of your contemplative play time today.

Clouds

White cotton
dropped across a
powder blue canvas.

Drifting gracefully
carried on gentle
unseen currents
of God's breath.

Gazing up,
a moment of pause.
In quiet noiselessness
I hear your invitation to play.

God you whisper
"tell me what you see in the clouds."

My imagination opens up.
The images I see
reflections of what is
deep in my heart.

I speak to God
words of my joy
words of my pain.
Allowing cloud images to
draw forth
the words that have
needed to pour out
of me for so long.

My heart lightens
images seen become
more playful.
And we play.
God tossing clouds.
Me sharing my imagination.

Sunset comes and with it
a call to bodily rest.
Clouds float together a puffy
blanket of purple orange.

A blanket of love
drawn over us as
God tucks us in for sleep.
Waiting for us to wake again
and respond to God's calling
"Come spend time with me,
just as you are."

Hope's Labyrinth

I invite you to pause for a moment and take some time for some contemplative play.

Start by letting this image fill your mind as you focus on your breath and letting yourself slow down into this time and this space.  Letting your breath and this picture be all that you attend to right now.

Hope's Labyrinth. Our families healing ritual as we built it seven years ago. Hope's marker of Hope's existence in the world. My quiet space.

What are your markers of remembrance?

Consider these questions also:

What do you see?
What colors stand out to you? Why?
What does your imagination do with this picture?
What words come to mind?
What favorite quotes from your favorite spiritual literature come to mind?


I invite you to join in conversation with me in the comments below what has come of your contemplative play time today.

My Companion Grief

A Note about this week's posts:
This week marks the 8 year anniversary of the loss of my second pregnancy and with that the death of the child that we named Hope.  All grief is a perpetual journey with reminders of the person showing up at unexpected times, even years later.  Parents often describe the death of a child as a forever grief as they often grieve more accutely at what would have been important milestones and anniversaries of births and deaths.

This week holds two anniversaries for me.  Today marks the day we found out that Hope would not live to birth.  Thursday, July 12th marks the day of Hope's death. (I tell more of our story in posts here.) 8 years may seem like a long time for some, however for me it often still seems like just yesterday.

I realized that my postings this week either fell on or one day before these two anniversary dates.  It felt like a nudge to me to take the time this year to once again mark Hope's existence and my grief journey.  Thank you for taking a moment to come along side as I once again grieve and remember.


My Companion Grief

I stuff my days full of "to do's"
In hope that these next days and weeks
will speed by.
In hope that I won't have the time to
notice my heart remembering
it's being ripped in half eight years ago.

But grief, my friend,
you do not work that way.
You are strong.
You push up past all
the busy barriers I try to put up.

To you it does not matter
if it has been
one day
one year
one decade.

You return to visit time and again.
A reminder that life is not a given.
That life requires periods of letting go
and figuring out how to move forward
when it feels like your world has stopped.

Grief, we have journeyed
hand in hand
for eight years now.
You have taught me much:
~that I am stronger than I realize
~that you are a universal connecting point
~that my ability to grieve is in direct relation
to my capacity to love.

Today you tap my shoulder once again
reminding me of your presence
reminding me of another year of anniversaries
and the need to remember deeply TODAY.

I take your hand and let you
gently guide me through this day
and the days to come this week,
knowing that tomorrow will come.

With the hope of sunrise
comes the hope of once more
surviving the deep feelings
and finding my battered heart
just a bit more healed.

Hidden

I invite you to pause for a moment and take some time for some contemplative play.

Start by letting this image fill your mind as you focus on your breath and letting yourself slow down into this time and this space.  Letting your breath and this picture be all that you attend to right now.

Where might you find hidden glimpses of God in the every day around you?

Consider these questions also:

What do you see?
What colors stand out to you? Why?
What does your imagination do with this picture?
What words come to mind?
What favorite quotes from your favorite spiritual literature come to mind?


I invite you to join in conversation with me in the comments below what has come of your contemplative play time today.

Gifts from a Tree

I stand and look up
under your leafy boughs
feeling the safety of your
enveloping green blanket
shading me.

I understand now why
the Robin and Cardinal
choose your branches.
Why the rabbit chooses
the base of your trunk.
To rest.

Your branches
dance in the wind.

The leaves rustle
a song as the wind
plays along their
green silkiness.

As we sit together
my soul's pace slows.
Peace is restored.
I am infused with the
wonder of God's
mysterious wisdom in
creating you and your
unique purpose.

So I look up into
your leafy boughs
and find rest for my soul
and a reminder of my
belovedness as a
creation of God also.

And then I just breathe.