the early quiet morning is a gift. time gives time. i am years of me- old selves that built me. reflector sneakers and tough-skins walking me to the beach at sunset on 4 year old legs. the light on the marsh grasses- a field of tall brown feathers sweeping together- the silence of it.
"take time to remember, lest you forget." seems something an old woman would say. i want to say that- to my children. to my self. to you.
look at the light on the grass in the morning, how it's broken into bits with darkness between. let your eyes see a pattern, a picture. let your mind take you somewhere from there- back- back to who you once were. the spaces of the light, the lines of the darkness on the ground.
i am taken back to a sky once on a walk in the middle of the day a few years back. it was blue and cloudless with planes flying so high in the dry crisp air, they silently marked their trail with white lines that slowly dissipated. i stopped and looked up, a perfect "X" in the sky. i watched. my fleece ready. i asked a question of God, of myself, of the sky- to be answered by another "X". it was chance- there was no airshow- just the randomness of life as planes entered and exited an airport 20 miles away. so i asked a question- like gideon- the presence of another "X"- the ground wet, the fleece dry. it came clear as the day itself, not a sideways x, not a cross, not the intersection of 2 lines, not even one faded to almost gone and another fresh line of exhaust- but a perfect "X" - 2 strong lines in the sky crossed at the middle. so i asked again- dry ground wet fleece, for another "X", again a perfect one. and it came- not one, not two, but six. six large "X"s in the sky in a row- shouting clear as that day- "YES".
yes to the question i had asked (which did by the way, turn out to happen). but yes to much more. yes to a listening universe and an answering God. yes, even though and despite of doubt. yes more times than i had even asked for- above and beyond all we can ask or imagine. yes, and just in case you didn't get it, yes 4 more times.
yes- I am here in the this garden on this day in these spots of sun on the grass. yes I am here in the banana plant shadows that break up the light. yes I am there drawing in the sky so you can see me, on that walk years back in time, because I am outside of time. yes, it was Me moving the marsh grass at the end of the day, on the edge of the world where the water meets the land and you squinted in the light with little plastic barrettes holding back your hair. Yes this is a time for you who is made up of time, to remember- lest you forget. I made you as all of these years- the first time your eyes opened and closed quickly, blinking the world into focus. the first time you noticed how light changes with time and colors change with light. and when you saw people paint that mystery, when you longed for someone to see the mystery as you did, and when you found him, and as your life has happened. as you have birthed others who blinked their life to focus, and held the hands of little barretted toe-heads on beaches where the sun leaves from the edge of water not land. others who see the mystery differently because they are equally but differently made. and are Mine- just as you are. loved just as you are. yes I am here as life keeps happening and time, for you, keeps ticking. see your body, with it's scars and it's markings of time- you are made up of all these years. hold them. remember them. cherish what can be cherished and grieve things that have hurt. know they are somehow still part of you- not to burden you, but to inform. let them make you gentle with yourself and with others.
time has happened even now. the light has grown, the shadows pulled back, now only fingers of darkness. the sounds of the day have started. the dogs sleep. the coffee is now cold.
it's time to start this day.
"take time to remember, lest you forget." seems something an old woman would say. i want to say that- to my children. to my self. to you.
look at the light on the grass in the morning, how it's broken into bits with darkness between. let your eyes see a pattern, a picture. let your mind take you somewhere from there- back- back to who you once were. the spaces of the light, the lines of the darkness on the ground.
i am taken back to a sky once on a walk in the middle of the day a few years back. it was blue and cloudless with planes flying so high in the dry crisp air, they silently marked their trail with white lines that slowly dissipated. i stopped and looked up, a perfect "X" in the sky. i watched. my fleece ready. i asked a question of God, of myself, of the sky- to be answered by another "X". it was chance- there was no airshow- just the randomness of life as planes entered and exited an airport 20 miles away. so i asked a question- like gideon- the presence of another "X"- the ground wet, the fleece dry. it came clear as the day itself, not a sideways x, not a cross, not the intersection of 2 lines, not even one faded to almost gone and another fresh line of exhaust- but a perfect "X" - 2 strong lines in the sky crossed at the middle. so i asked again- dry ground wet fleece, for another "X", again a perfect one. and it came- not one, not two, but six. six large "X"s in the sky in a row- shouting clear as that day- "YES".
yes to the question i had asked (which did by the way, turn out to happen). but yes to much more. yes to a listening universe and an answering God. yes, even though and despite of doubt. yes more times than i had even asked for- above and beyond all we can ask or imagine. yes, and just in case you didn't get it, yes 4 more times.
yes- I am here in the this garden on this day in these spots of sun on the grass. yes I am here in the banana plant shadows that break up the light. yes I am there drawing in the sky so you can see me, on that walk years back in time, because I am outside of time. yes, it was Me moving the marsh grass at the end of the day, on the edge of the world where the water meets the land and you squinted in the light with little plastic barrettes holding back your hair. Yes this is a time for you who is made up of time, to remember- lest you forget. I made you as all of these years- the first time your eyes opened and closed quickly, blinking the world into focus. the first time you noticed how light changes with time and colors change with light. and when you saw people paint that mystery, when you longed for someone to see the mystery as you did, and when you found him, and as your life has happened. as you have birthed others who blinked their life to focus, and held the hands of little barretted toe-heads on beaches where the sun leaves from the edge of water not land. others who see the mystery differently because they are equally but differently made. and are Mine- just as you are. loved just as you are. yes I am here as life keeps happening and time, for you, keeps ticking. see your body, with it's scars and it's markings of time- you are made up of all these years. hold them. remember them. cherish what can be cherished and grieve things that have hurt. know they are somehow still part of you- not to burden you, but to inform. let them make you gentle with yourself and with others.
time has happened even now. the light has grown, the shadows pulled back, now only fingers of darkness. the sounds of the day have started. the dogs sleep. the coffee is now cold.
it's time to start this day.
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