Pine Pollen
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It’s pine pollen time on the island! Though I rarely see the yellow particles in the air, I can readily identify their presence on everything left outside—tables, beach shoes, chair, and our car. All surfaces are coated with a fine yellow film that makes some cough and sneeze. Once I saw the wind dislodge clouds of pine pollen, setting drifting across the bay though usually it’s invisible. Despair and depression can be like that. Individual causes may seem minor, but soon they accumulate and coat everything that should be shiny and bright. Suddenly the world is dulled in despair and hopelessness. Please help me, O Lord, to shake myself free of this choking coating so that my enjoyment of the life you’ve given me is not clouded by the accumulation of problems and worries I’ve let pile up. Help me to breathe in the breath of your life and your love so, like the pine pollen set adrift over the water, I am free to be joyful in your presence. Amen.Related Post
Mine!Mine!
I watched a gull with a large fish in his mouth bent over at the edge of the beach. He seemed worried that I would steal the fish from him, and so tried to pick it up and fly, but the weight made flight almost impossible. Again and again, the fish fell from his beak, once almost slipping into the ocean and escaping. I stopped my walk so the bird could eat the fish in peace, but he was convinced I would grab it, still trying to hurry it to safety. I felt sorry for the gull; I didn’t want his fish and would have avoided him if I could. Sadly, I am sometimes like that gull, so worried that others will take from me what is “mine”, that I risk losing it in the very act of protecting it! In church I sing that all I have is a gift from God, and yet in my daily life I label “Mine!” too often, spending my energies, like the gull, protecting what is in no danger of loss and losing what is most valuable. Forgive me, Lord, when I worry more about what is mine than about what is yours. Help me share generously as you have so richly shared with me. Amen.
Night ComesNight Comes
At this time of year, night seems to descend on the island differently than elsewhere. Like a worn quilt, the sky first has only thin places, worn spots that appear to have been rubbed against by giant ankles or elbows, places where the sun shines—barely. As if suspended, the quilt hangs heavier and heavier, weighted by the stars that begin to pull id down, down, slowly until there is more darkness than light. Sometimes, dear Lord, I reach for you and find a hole where the fingers of faith quickly connect. At other times, I reach into something thick and furry, unable to find you, to touch you. When that happens, I depend upon others to connect me, others to raise my name in prayer, others who lift me and my situation. Perhaps I break through to you because of old, memorized bible verses or hymns that appear in my mind, illuminating the darkness. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the beauty of night but more importantly, thank you for the beauty of your light-filled presence no matter how deep the dark. Amen.
At this time of year, night seems to descend on the island differently than elsewhere. Like a worn quilt, the sky first has only thin places, worn spots that appear to have been rubbed against by giant ankles or elbows, places where the sun shines—barely. As if suspended, the quilt hangs heavier and heavier, weighted by the stars that begin to pull id down, down, slowly until there is more darkness than light. Sometimes, dear Lord, I reach for you and find a hole where the fingers of faith quickly connect. At other times, I reach into something thick and furry, unable to find you, to touch you. When that happens, I depend upon others to connect me, others to raise my name in prayer, others who lift me and my situation. Perhaps I break through to you because of old, memorized bible verses or hymns that appear in my mind, illuminating the darkness. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the beauty of night but more importantly, thank you for the beauty of your light-filled presence no matter how deep the dark. Amen.
StolenStolen
I spoke with a woman in the store this morning. During our conversation, she said she’d once been in a church with a large congregation, and when she went to the altar for Communion, she returned to her pew and discovered her purse had been taken. How sad that during a time of communion, someone had chosen to rob rather than share. I thought of how things are sometimes stolen from me when my mind is elsewhere. I walk on the beach wrestling with other people’s problems or with situations over which I have no control, and I’m robbed of the day’s beauty and the ocean’s gifts. I let myself feel apart from God, and my faith begins to erode, just as the water bites at the shore. Forgive me, Lord, for letting you go too easily, for letting situations rob me of your presence. Yes, bad things happen, even in the church where there are more avowed sinners than anyplace else. Please help me to approach you always knowing there is nothing more important than my closeness to you. Amen.