Spring rain washes dust from
the yellow rose petal, igniting color,
awakening fragrance. Petal by petal,
the world grows brighter.

I lift my face to the brooding sky,
and feel on my cheeks the same
cleansing elixir, heaven drops
that penetrate the residue of life
and soften my anxious heart.

Around me, people run for cover,
heads shielded by newspaper,
collars turned up, umbrellas popping
open to deflect the divine gift.
And here I stand.

Until I can contain it no longer.
Until I cannot withstand the
absolute necessity to dance.
I have uncontrollable feet
whose purpose in life is to splash
in puddles of laughing water.

While others wait for the
storm to pass, I stand,
arms raised to welcome the
delicious downpouring. And
I feel a hand grasp mine,
a clear invitation to twirl
like a dervish who cannot
control the delight.

Spring rain produces flowers
in my heart, yellow roses
watered by wonder,
decoration for the
divine dance.

She said her heart was broken.
I said: Good. I’m glad.
Maybe now the residue of
yesterdays will seep out through
the cracks. Perhaps light,
filtering into the fading darkness,
will reveal what has always been
there but suffocated by the
severity of pain.

I told her: Don’t be afraid.
Don’t try to gather up the
broken pieces as if they might
reconnect. Let them be. The
edges are too sharp, the stains
too deep.

I know. I feel your hand
trembling in mine. But let’s
sit together for a while and
watch the flowers grow, and
feel the fresh breeze, and
taste the sweet rain as it
falls on our upturned faces.
Soon flowers will grow in the
garden of your heart and
you will be surrounded by
the fragrances of lilacs.

I will wait with you and we
will smile at the first sign
of little green shoots of life
emerging, seeking
the joy of light.

Tomorrow when I awake, may my first thoughts
be about the gift I have received, life in this new day.
As if coming from death to life, I wake with wonder
and a commitment to be mindful of the Mystery
that gives me breath and consciousness. May
the road I choose tomorrow be the same one
Jesus blazed so long ago. Bring peace, O Lord,
to our anxious souls, courage when that seems
in such short supply, simple human kindness
that is larger than race or creed. And at the
end of the day, may I look back and see all
the places where love has triumphed, kindness
has prevailed, and the name of Jesus has been
spoken as blessing and affirmation. I place myself
into your strong hands, Lord, and I now sleep in
glorious anticipation. Amen

Beginning this day at 5:17 a.m.,
I will live out loud.
I will no longer simply think it,
I will say it.
I will move from shadows into sunlight,
not for prestige but for principle.
Living in response doesn’t work anymore.
The cloak of passivity no longer fits;
my voice is important, even if it
is only one voice.
I have hummed too long.
Now I will sing.
It is now 5:25 a.m. on this remarkable day.
Darkness still covers the earth,
but light will come.
I will welcome it, not with a smile
but a shout.
That’s me you hear in the distance.
Get used to it.

Relax and reflect in the presence of graceful beauty. You deserve the break. Turn off the language and simply listen.

More than 40 years ago, a British game designer thought up something called Jenga. It’s a game where players construct a slender tower made of blocks, irregularly shaped blocks stacked loosely on top of each other. The object of the game is to keep the tower standing as player after player pulls one block from the shaky tower and places it on the top of the column. How long can you keep the tower standing before one removed block causes it to crash all over the table?

Welcome to the political world of Jenga. The tower is swaying as reckless players thoughtlessly and randomly jerk out foundational pieces that keep the tower standing; in this case, keep the political order intact. With no plan, no deliberation, no collaboration, pieces of our national structure are trashed for the immediate satisfaction of power and revenge. One block too many stripped because of selfish motives will cause the tower to collapse. Even more alarming, the towers of countries and continents are connected. When one goes, they all could go. We would do well to listen to the warnings and advice of economic market experts who tell us that once the critical block is pulled, there will be no going back.

There is no inevitability about the American dream. It can become a nightmare if Jenga politics continues. The impact of the collapse will be more than we have imagined. Jenga is a game. Our future is not.

So they took a vote and Barsabbas lost.
Great was his sadness and great the cost,
for when Barsabbas walked down the street
the people he knew and used to greet
turned away when they saw him coming near;
even though Barsabbas made it clear
that he and God were still good friends,
that losing wasn’t the tragic end
of his life of service and faithfulness.
He bore no sense of uselessness;
he still had much to do and give.
He still had wonderful reasons to live.

Matthias was humbled by his heavenly choice.
He had never been a persuasive voice,
never took on a leadership role,
never desired to be in control.
But he took the call with a genuine heart
and everyone sensed from the very start
that Matthias would be a strong witness, indeed,
and in time would step up to coach and to lead
others to find their gifts and the ways
to serve Christ’s Kingdom with joy and praise.

Barsabbas, Matthias, we all have our ways
to offer ourselves in service and praise.

I am you and you are me,
and we are we together.
I can accomplish much alone,
but together, the obstacle we confront,
takes on the weight of a feather.
Sometimes alone is very hard,
and I don’t think to ask
if you might have the time or skill
to help me with the task.
Smart is the person who makes the plan,
skilled the workers who hammer the nails,
and think of the others whose expertise
might insure that we very seldom fail.

I’ll tell you what…here’s a brand new plan.
The thought just came to me.
You can do this and I can do that and
they can do the things we don’t see.
So, you understand what’s happened here?
We just made a viable, working “we”.
Sounds pretty good to me.

So, let’s form a team, join our skills,
I’m convinced that we will see
the value inherent in forming a “we.”
So, let’s do it. Let’s change from “me” to “we”.
Agree?

May this day be better than last Tuesday when I was mad at everything and everybody. I can’t remember why.

May this day contain a laugh or two, even a giggle, that comes from being in community with my friends.

May I find, or make, time this day for life reflection between Cornhole, Fitness Class, Bridge, Water Aerobics, my Spiritual Living Class, and the Community Birthday Gathering in the afternoon. Tight squeeze.

May I keep my cool even though the elevator is still broken and I have to go up and down stairs between floors in the apartment complex. Good for me? I know it.

May I realize the daily joys of living in community instead of looking for things that annoy me,
like…never mind. Night has passed and the new day dawns before me. Okay, here I come. Amen.

Oh, no. My socks don’t match.
Oh, well. So what!