Archive | Prayers

Godfriends of Caliber. . . gifts of heart. . .

This bouquet is for you. . .

Tish, Marylouise, and Dorothy, Jan, and Joy, heart friends gone but always upfront; now some cyber friends distanced including (few) males attesting publicly to science, but attending silently to problems not to be tested by science gods in their pristine laboratories.

All friends of caliber, all honorable characters with huge depth, with problems in the confines of earth habitats; the streets of cities and living rooms in homes.  My gender confronted mostly in the kitchens, midst getting dinner on the table or cleaning up afterward.

These are the laboratories where reality lives, while the one buying food for the table with the currency of the day sails out the door with a you take care of it dictum, (with an I have bigger fish to fry,  like maybe world peace?)

But in today’s world drama, the difference is the one left also needs to get to a paying job because two salaries are required to maintain the premises or a trained talent wants their fair share of today’s kudos or currency.  For particular reasons, that is the drama.

Since questions loom in many corners, what bears leverage on the troubled soul?  Is it visible to be handled or invisible with an I could not help it attitude?  The latter must be dealt with kid gloves or at best a saintly demeanor else we have worlds collapsing in quarters unable to be rebuilt.

Do we need religious or professional help or can we work it out with agencies designed just for this kind of thing?  A conundrum, to be sure.

If invisible, is it genetic, inherited,  meaning other members of the family have had this problem? Or a new one that deals with unmentionables, or drugs, from alcohol all the way to end of the alphabet, or something best left to experts?

Known is that no one ‘s upbringing prepares them for parenting in today’s world.  This is what is known as OJT.  On the Job Training.  This is how recruits are assigned jobs in the Military, no matter one’s background.

Good friends of caliber are required in life, someone or a handful to inspire or calm when crises loom.  Someone in Congress? Today, hard to believe.   Or a lawyer? (I called for a friend) Or an ear to listen to heart hurts? (too many times to count).

Or a nurse/friend like Cati who held our fractured  family together when David was leaving us, or young neighbor Cherl, who became like a daughter, or friend John, magically appearing in crises.

These are godfriends (correct word) who hold the leaky boat afloat when water rises and family cannot or is unable.  I wrote that heaven does not play favorites.  They don’t.  Everyone is cherished.  I was not spared the mountains to climb but had godfriends to journey with.  They gave the supreme gift of heart needed.

What can I say when language has no adequate thank you?  I call them godfriends.

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When Life Is An Act of Devotion. .love speaks . .

 

 

 

 

Grampa says . .  Grandma created first homemade meatballs in eggplant/ tomato sauce over polenta with a salad of romaine, cherry tomatoes and kohlrabi with olive oil and balsamic. . .

 

and then crafts with grandma Claudia, the talented artist. . . .

 

 

And then a story to close the day. . . .

 

It is a simple story but such a big hurdle for mankind . . . that is
to treat new life with an act of devotion to prepare for the challenges
we face in preparation of our potential.

Where we are now, is the place for us to start.  So we can then speak with
truth in our search for brotherhood.  Not a pipe dream but a fact.
Not just a wish but a promise if we use what is ours within us to
help make perfect peace on earth in our time.

A lot to ask when life has not been exactly fair with us?  Yes, but we
have help if we seek it out.  It takes courage to even ask I know.
But that too is within us.  To find we are courageous is a welcome
surprise. Sometimes invisible arms hold us up.                                                                                                   

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We Are In Need, sorely. . .

We Lift Our Heads. . .

We lift our heads as we face
our Source and give thanks to these gifts
beginning our day;
a body without pain and a mind
clear and receptive;

a heart that beats steadily and ears
that hear clearly.
For these gifts we are grateful.

Open us and allow not one bird
to miss our thank you for his song
and allow not the breeze to be
without gratitude for its breath.

Take this day and use us for Thy purpose,
for we will be at a loss
when time in space cannot be breached
by thought and the abyss
cannot be spanned by a leap.
Let our thoughts be more than a footnote
in the story of this day and our lives

lived with compassion, for we are all in need sorely. . . .all. . .

Amen and amen.

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The Children Will Lead. . . but You Are The Answer. . . .

 

The Children Shall Lead Us. . . .

Young people,  some only in grammar schools,  around THE WORLD have taken leave of their classrooms today to strike their concerns about the coming death of their best and only classroom.  It is this planet Earth.  Our only home as far as most of us know, this lifetime.

Many of the young  have memory and they know that nothing is given but what something is taken away.  For many lifetimes our planet has given us lush greens and vibrant blues and sundry good to avaricious hearts.   They know who these are among us.  Yet we know  we all plunder our Earth Mother,  in the substance thrown away and her largess of native goods taken and trashed.  We all participate in greedy behavior.

We either sit on arid land pleading for water or wading in hip boots in the living rooms of our once homes.  Or picking up the matchsticks of our beloved countries in the residues of tornadoes and hurricanes. A doomsday on this planet of great numbers?  In many areas, it already is.  Who cares?

And what difference does it make?  Well I care and one day you will care a lot and it will make a big difference.  You are its prayer, its question and its answer.  Only you.  In you are the answers to what your life means.  There are no other answers.  You are the answer.  You are the unsuspecting shoulders upon whom the answer rests.  You will be the answer to who cares and you will care a lot.

Your God you pray to is not always merciful.  He respects what you would call my stand alone responsibilities.  I respect without argument an angry Cosmos that has the power to strike at the core of us and hit home.  This is my beautiful planet and I in pain realize we are a reflection of that pain elsewhere.  I work to relieve it.

Primary kindnesses must be granted to all facets of nature, from the glass of water to the earthworms that fragrant the soil.  Every aspect of life, every aspect of guarding this planet from dawn to the whispered good night in love to our Earth Mother.  I tell you true.

You will care and you will care.  A lot.

(a pleading to us all. . . )

Let our hearts lead us
to that place where
we intuitively cherish the mother
who feeds and clothes us and
gives us sustenance.

Let us not forsake our responsibilities
to those yet unborn but whose futures
we have already mortgaged.

Blessed Spirit, enliven our curiousity
about our daily world, remind us
that the bird’s song needs our
acknowledgement and praise,
that the sun needs our greeting
and the night wishes it bid good.

As we nourish those of our commitment,
speak to us of our commitment
to the home we know, our planet Earth.
Let our love guide us to make beautiful,
to make secure and to guard diligently
what has so faithfully harbored us.

In love we pray,  Amen, amen.

 

{the pleading scribed April 5, 1991}

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A Woman Of Great Wealth. . .

 

It was a hard move  for all of us leaving over a hundred acres of camp property we were living on in Connecticut to move to city life in Michigan.  From a lake with mountains and an 1800 farm house to a house with eight feet on either side was what we were looking at.  But stepping in I immediately knew it would be home to us.

Our sons bonded tightly there even as they branched out to new friends and activities,  The photos show how involved we were.  I was talked into helping with the construction of the hockey rink in the backyard.  It was started every year from that first time a week before Christmas.  That was when we could depend on weather to behave itself.  We counted on freezing daily then.

I made rules that I would only spray till 2 a.m.!   If I remember correctly,  spraying involved 20 minutes every hour for two to three days.  That was after there was a few inches of snow to push back to form a rim.  And it was a joyful night when the lights were turned on and fun began.  The guys were ready, the brothers and the younger’s friends.

Hockey could be played till 9 p.m. on school nights and then they came into the basement to undo skates and then upstairs for cocoa and whatever chief cook baked.  This went on till graduation from high school.  I was not popular with neighborhood moms with young sons when bombarded with the cry of why can’t we have a hockey rink?  Alas, someone needed to stand and spray and not everyone loved winter as we did.

Some not as agile on skates but all loved chasing pucks with sticks.  We had our share of broken windows in the house and garage which had to be repaired quickly.  They became adept soon to hold the shots low and also at repairing the windows.

The younger, son John, eventually settled in California to teach when I received a call one afternoon from the class he was teaching.  He said his class did not believe the hockey rink in his backyard. Would I answer their questions?  The children were unbelieving.  I explained how we did it and what was done to maintain.  You sprayed with a hose they asked?  Yes, I said and not after 2 a.m.!

After much time with questions of how cold did it get, how long and how many played and the kinds of things kids wonder about especially the strange mother who would volunteer to do this!  They thanked me and made me wonder how many were still unconvinced.

Over a half century later, I consider myself a woman of great wealth in charge of this memory bank.

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By Whose Authority? . .I Am My Own Authority! .

When this photo came the other day I could see a young woman of stature and maturity in answer to the question ‘By whose authority?. . . whatever the problem. . . .  saying firmly that ‘I am my own authority!. . . . ‘ because her ancestry endows her.  I give a brief synopsis. . .

Her great great grandmother
the Jenny. . .

to the question by whose authority?    ‘Because I said so, that’s why!’
I heard it often enough.

Great Grandmother Veronica when
over 60 years old answered the Literature
Professor. . . .

Not being a member of the Church how do you know what is right to do?
Grandmother great answers. .‘I have a heart and knowledge.  I know what is right.’

Grandfather a retired Teacher
of English and Drama and
Grandmother an artist and retired
Teacher of Art

In love with this ongoing surprise of a granddaughter 2 days a week after 3 sons,
enriching her life with words and art and laughing with fun always.

Both parents working to maintain a home and lives of meaning and enrichment for a new family.  Hoping also for some rest.  This is only half of the picture  that is mine to see.  This is my side of Emma E.  The maternal side I surmise and hope to meet one day is as rich because I know Emma E.’s mother.

Life always holds the sparklers and is balanced.  And if in this world plans go askew, in another world they come to fruition.  To the question at the top By Whose Authority Do You Speak?. . . Emma E. will answer with a curt,  I Am My Own Authority! And she will silence the critic.  With this Grandmother Great’s blessing,  I assure you.

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Listen World, Listen. . . God In A Rock. . .

Listen world, Listen.  God In a Rock. . . .

(As we head into Earth day, I am approaching my 88th birthday and my world is iffy right now and if I could leave a letter to beloveds I would say this. )

There is a connection to all of our Earth.  From the sky to the ground, the mud , the parched soil, the flooding rivers, the oceans full of debris, of everything I breathe.  There is a connection.

The rain, the snow, the earthquakes and the tornadoes plus all that cannot be imagined by the mind that writes these words.  All of these are connected.

And if we think from this minute on that we are separate, that we are not connected, when all of these   malfunction and we cannot draw breath, we will know how connected we are.

It is our purpose in life to protect our surroundings with every means we can.  From the wrapper of our      candy or what we dismiss as garbage, to what we hold to be holy in hand and our mind.  Because it can go down the tube again as it has in our past when mankind looked upon life with common disdain  and treated our Earth as a compost heap.

It can be taken away.  Not by a grandfather god whom you may think sits in judgment but by our carelessness which assumes Earth to be a disposal to grind our refuse.  The world cannot absorb and decompose what is not natural to it.  It accumulates and kills all life.

It does not take care of itself.  Our lack of caring transfers to everything we touch.  Everything.  We have lost our respect for our laws and institutions which have sustained us because they were built on foundations of need , of prayer, of yearning for respect for our divine selves.  We knew of our cosmic  beginning,  as everything was and is and will continue to be.

But what we lose is everything with our disrespect for ourselves because this is what decimation of our earth amounts to.  Basically we have lost our respect for who we are and who we brought into life through our loins when we loved an other for the right reasons.

Not for anything we labeled other than the highest and best we could feel and give to an other because  we knew love.  But we denigrated even that to bedroom gymnastics with babies being brought into existence not because we loved wisely and well but by careless consequences.

We learned how to do that so well, haven’t we?  Our world now bursts its seams with souls we cannot feed, nor time to love the babies.  We scramble for space with fertile soil to grow food and house 8 billion people.

Listen, world, please listen.  We stand now to lose the classroom that the universe waits in line to enter.  It is  the best classroom where manifestation of the idea can be handled and utilized to the highest degree.  It is the place where love manifests in a human being with mind and body and soul.

It is a god participant in stature and thought and dreams.  This is the bedding that will send our least imagined, last imagined, unbelief into soaring magnificence because it is the sendoff for the Becoming of what cannot be envisioned.

How else to bring the mirror in front of our faces and say look at yourself?  It is you, us, me, that has the world in its hands.  The universe that we cannot yet comprehend cannot be put into the laboratory to say this is how it works.  Because that knowledge we don’t have, has not been conceived and will not ever be writ.

I pray you see god in a rock.  I pray you see god laying beneath the rock.  In all its forms.  In the air we breathe, the sky that covers us, the earth that upholds our frame that took eons to stand upright.  Listen world, listen.  Take care of this planet.  For many it is the only place that is real to them.  For me, it is a place to love into being the souls I have chosen who chose me as mother and grandmother and  grandmother great.

I loved these souls into Being.  They in turn have loved their worlds into Being.    Look about you.  To the morning that will not come to those you love.  To the day that will not harbor the ideas they have crafted into being.  To the night that will cover them with love so they will engage also in what will give birth to more dreams.  Would you deny them this?

They have your name attached to them.  They will carry what you have done, and not done.  Those ideas and thoughts of omission and commission.  Our Mother Earth.  Think how we refer to her.  Mother Earth.  There is not one of us who leaves her at the end of our lives without our thought always linking to who we refer to as Mother.  It is with love, either hoped for, missed or known.

Give your remaining days of caring onto her.  Do what is necessary to restore her well being.  She will take care of you and what you have loved into Being.  Do this for her and in so doing you will not have to pick up your mistakes which are costly.

Our names are attached and the mortgage is for eternity.  Yes, eternity is forever, starting now.

photo of Rock from
The Farm. . .Kathy Qualiani
Photo of Emma E.
by Merideth Hallissey

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In Love We Pray. . . amen and amen. . . .

As dawn breaks, my fingers of both hands curled about each other and I marveled at their slimness, their ability to elicit the feel of themselves, each digit wrapped around the other.

And I felt that nothing, no other world would ever make me feel such blessedness in my hands’ ability to do so many things over the course of a life.

To kneading bread, to winding the yarn, to smoothing the brow of my very sick child and have him telling me later that it helps him sleep.

Everything I touch holds a lesson for me. The square inch of soil I spooned with young hands yielded secrets kept from generations.

The eyes of a child as my hands embraced young shoulders tells me what went into their ancient heritage. And I grasp their hands in mine and convey my love by touch.

I would use these hands to mold and make and set trends never before thought. I see the beauty of the great god in the blending of these human genes and see the perfect Adam and perfect Eve emerging  and see the virtue in the making and the doing of the homely tasks that will start the holy process once again. And I will open my arms and spread my hands to grasp the youngest by my hip and be grateful for hands that show

how very much I can love on this planet called Earth.

Spring Prayer. . .

As we enjoin the Universal Spirit to entrust
with another spring, another resurrection, awaken
within us the desire to nurture the world
that has nurtured us.

Let our hearts lead us to that place
where we intuitively cherish the mother who feeds
and clothes us and gives sustenance.  Let us
not forsake our responsibilities to those yet unborn,
whose futures we have already mortgaged.

Blessed Spirit, enliven our curiosity about our daily world,
remind us that the bird’s song needs our acknowledgement and praise,
that the sun needs our greeting and night wishes it bid good.

As we nourish those of our commitment, speak to us of our commitment
to the home we know, our planet Earth.  Let our love guide us
to make beautiful, to make secure and to guard diligently
what has so faithfully harbored us.

In love we pray,  amen and amen.

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As It Was. . . .

Paraphrasing the Teacher in a journal entry of a December past. . . .

‘She quietly opens the door and slips to the crib, not knowing the child’s father has already retired for the night in the room.  She watches the child in sickness and the son watches his mother with her magic chants as they drew from his son the illness causing such heartbreak. 

You can do it, he was thinking.  You can do it.  And he was in awe as he watched this woman profoundly calling on a benign force that would move the sickness from the body of his son.  He watched you move those hands in air that was vibrant with the power pouring through you.  And he said that this is my mother and this woman I don’t even know.

And he knew that in all that had transpired , in all that he watched, he would take to his writing and pour out what was observed, and if not observed, he would have known anyway.  Let the power move through me and make me an instrument of thy peace, he said.  

Touched were those hearts needing to be touched.  There will be a respite and a growing and a power to make whole.’

In the morning a wiped out toddler recovered enough to stand and shout his demands to rattle the crib.

In the following years I learned that the undergirding of our Universes is an ethical premise that supports life and demands of each of us the highest and best we can be.  It may be benign but it is a spiritual power and it does not matter what we call this power, God or Allah or Jehovah or Christ.  It is ethical and demands us to aspire to our best.  We know intuitively and welcome obstacles that require we test our courage before meeting the greatest of our challenges however different for each of us.

I Pray. . .

Let this pass, if it is thy will.

I Hear. . .

Look beyond the Light
into the face of the morning sun

to see that the Light beckons and extends.

It would grant you peace
should you let it.
It will grant you life
should you welcome it.

Amen and amen.

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Ripped, severed, broken. . .

The day looms with fierce emotions which will lay its colors upon the hearts of mourners forever.  It is with little thought given by some that words have great power over the course of our lives.  It is we who must teach the children the choice of words must be with care.  And we adults who must alter our behavior when our words are met with misunderstanding.  Words are the tools of our relationships and must be treated with great respect. The costly consequences are human lives.

The Word Is God. . .

In the beginning was the word
destined to touch the mind of man.
But the prevailing Spirit in its wisdom saw fit
to encumber each with the power to discern.

Meanings floated into space,
shaping themselves to fit the receiving mind.
Reaching their destination,
their shape changed to fit the owner.

Such turbulence!  Such uneasiness!
Albeit because the word had taken life and
risen to meet the heart’s need.
The speaker’s heart had taken its intent

and placed upon the Ethers the heart’s desire.
It gathered cadence as it rode
to meet the receiver’s prejudices.
The sender’s intent lay silent, lost.

The heavens only acknowledged
its primordial meaning.
Can it be said in truth that the word be god?
It is.

For within its power to create
it moves with desperation to voice feelings,
to give breath to visions and to heal.
The word created creatures and dynasties,

wars and rebellions, held peace in abeyance
and brought us to life.
So speak softly when speaking.
Words carry the weight of the heart

with intent to topple empires
and worlds and men.  In the catalytic movement
of the word,  the world’s heart beats,
years are gifted and man’s future secured.

It is all we have.                                                                              

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