Mia Jameson

Mia Jameson

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Beware of Splinters!Beware of Splinters!

The sign posted near the boardwalk warns that there is construction going on; “Beware of Splinters” it proclaims.  I lift my feet as I walk, careful not to slide them along in a slouchy gait that has become habitual.  Why, I wonder, do I too often drag my feet along, as if they’re heavy to raise?  Am I like that in my daily religious walk as well, sliding along, picking up splinters and then wondering why my feet are sore?  Perhaps I am, moving heavily through my days, finding petty matters to complain about, and whining when everything isn’t as I might like.  Forgive me, Lord, for picking up splinters instead of moving through the day and the gifts you’ve given me with joy and wonder.  Help me raise my feet and my spirits in response to your unending goodness. Amen.

A Week on the IslandA Week on the Island

Each Sunday during the summer I watch renters arrive at their units. They carry in suitcases, bags of food, and sports equipment, laughing and calling to one another. During the week I witness their trips to the trash container, toting empty pizza boxes, soft drink cartons, paper plates. Their kites fly, their music reaches my deck, and their laughter carries in the evening stillness. Early the following Sunday they check out, muted now, sad to leave, trudging down stairs with backward looks, waving goodbye to the house as they turn at the driveway’s end. I hope they take with them good memories—picnics on the beach, conversations sparked with laughter, shared experiences recalled by photographs and souvenirs. I hope they filled the week with kindness and love, with forgiveness and sharing. I hope for them, as I hope for myself, time well spent, time used with care and thought, whether given to leisure rest or work. Our weeks, like our lives, are ours on loan; they need to be filled deliberately and gently. Please forgive me, Lord, when I behave as though my life here is an eternity when it is only a brief span of time. Help me fill my days in loving service to you. Amen.

Sand on the PathSand on the Path

When I walk to the beach in the nearby state park, I use a wooden crossover to gain access.  Open at the sides, this wooden structure must regularly be brushed free of sand or it becomes so clogged that people no longer use it, climbing over the dune instead.  Because the dune is fragile, park workers try to keep the crossover clear, but sometimes they fall behind.  It’s incredible how quickly the sand accumulates, how it collects in deep drifts that make walking very difficult, tempting people to choose the dune instead.  I think of my own prayers life; how I neglect my prayer time for one day because I’m too busy, and again the next day I feel pressed for time, and then….  Soon my prayer time is covered with excuses, and I begin to find a path around my conversations with God.  Forgive me, Lord, for too often ignoring you, neglecting to sweep my prayer time path from any excuses or missed opportunities. Amen.