The Seed

I am the seed

So small, so dry,

Lifted in the hand

Of the silent Sower.

Into the earth

I fearfully fall,

Darkness covers me,

Silence surrounds me.

The terror of my heart

Is the only sound

To keep me company.

All that is me

Huddles together

Trying desperately

Not to surrender

Any part of the self.

“Why was I planted?”
I cry out.

“Why am I here?”

I entreat.

“Take me out into the light;

I cannot bear

This deathly dark.”

I weary. I weaken.

The days become long.

I can no longer fight.

I surrender

In this lonely place

Of waiting.

Quietly I sense

A penetrating warmth;

It surrounds me;

It fills me

And blesses my pain.

In a moment

Of peacefulness

I forget my fear.

I let go of my self

And suddenly

The husk that holds me

Weakens and breaks.

“No!” I scream.

I am losing my self,

But it is too late.

The husk is cracked;

I cannot be contained.

It is then

That I sense a power

Deep inside of me,

Encouraging me,

“Let go. Let go. Let go.”

It is an energy

That pushes the husk

Until it falls away.

As it slips aside

My eyes behold color.

Ah! Can it be?

A tiny glimpse of green!

“How could that be?”
I marvel,

“There was never green

In the heart of me.”

Yet, it is there;

Each day

It slowly stretches upwards

To where the warm

Seems to be.

I become less of a seed.

I am losing my self.

But the pain I once knew

Is lost in surprise;

Something wonderful

Deep within my heart

Is greening and growing.

Days go quickly now.

I become one

With the small stem of life.

Oh! The glorious moment

When, ah, breath of Spring

Fast fills my face.

I move through the hard earth

And taste the world which awaits my arrival.

From within my tender shoot

Comes a soft sound.

I listen. I hear.

It is a song to the Sower:

O Sower of seeds,

Did you always see

The gift of green

That was hiding in me?

O Sower of seeds,

How came you to praise

The beauty within

That I hid from my eyes?

O Sower of seeds,

The husk has been broken;

All praise to you

For helping me open.

Accept now my praise

My thankfulness, too,

For the seed you have sown

And the gift you grew.

May you lead me to others

Who await your good word,

So the seed within them

Can awaken and be heard.

Amen! Alleluia!

-Joyce Rupp

Fasting from food is not the only way to hunger. I hunger for God when I empty myself of my own agenda, ideas, and strength. I learn to die, to let Him put me in the darkness and let him grow me into what He wants me to be. I often hunger for God, but grab the first thing that glitters as an easy way out. It is hard to wait to be filled, so I feast on food that does not satisfy.

Is 55: Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest fare.

I need to wait and listen, to be still and let him fill me...

In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength. Is.30:15

Poetry Wednesday

I have been thinking about finding beauty in the ordinary, because that is what most of my life is,ordinary, Day in and day out, cooking, cleaning , laundry, homeschooling. It is not always easy to find that beauty, I need to be mindful. That is why I love this poem my favorite line is "to instruct myself over and ever in joy" it goes nicely with the book I recently finished "Dancing With My Father."

Mindful

-Mary Oliver

Every day

I see or hear

something

that more or less kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for -

to look, to listen,to lose myself

inside this soft world -

to instruct myself

over and over in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant -

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself, how can you help but grow wise

with such teachings

as these -

the untrimmable lightof the world,

the ocean's shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

When You Are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

This is one of my favorites.....

Read more here

Poetry Wednesday

Being, a message to myself
Luci Shaw


Like bees busy on purple heather
there are those who seldom rest
who leap about accomplishing things,
affixing stamps, defrosting a loaf,
pulling a weed, flipping a switch,cramming a screen with a frenzy
of words. Doers who hope
to change the world, job by job . . .

You can barely hear the others,
like trees, monuments with veins,
rooted, shedding a scented
shade, a spring ceiling of green,
a seasonal rug of gold.
I’ve always felt an affinity for rain,
its palpable relief at letting go.

The round oak table by the window resting
all afternoon under its shifting tablecloth of sun.


I am not knocking those who do, we need to do. But I can be too much of a doer sometimes. My husband and nine year old son are in Kenya right now, I still have four children at home. I was hoping to get all these projects done while they were gone. Things I cannot concentrate on when I am teaching math to a nine year old boy wielding a light saber. Sometimes when I am doing , I get wound up tighter and tighter , I go faster and faster and then it all falls apart. I love the line about the rain and its palpable relief at letting go....
So although my days are filled with doing, I am going to make an effort to sit, ponder and let go.

you can read more poems here

Poetry Wednesday

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.


And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.


I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

-William Butler Yeats

I love this poem. I love the way the words flow together, I love the picture it paints. The first time I heard it, I was in the car and Garrison Keeler was reading it on the radio. His voice sounded so peaceful . At that moment I was stressed, I was taking my kids to piano,or somewhere. I am sure I was late and the car was loud. The line " And live alone in the bee loud glade" sounded appealing to me. I am a stay at home type of gal who likes quiet and order. As a homeschool mom of five kids I do not get much of that! I love the peaceful feeling this poem gives me. I have my own "Innisfree" Every year we go to northern Michigan for two weeks and it truly is a place of rest and peace. So when things get a little loud here I think of my "Innisfree" and hear it in my heart's deep core......

for more poems go herehttp://enanoslivo.blogspot.com/

Poetry Wednesday

I have been in bed the past two days with a nasty cold, it is not often that I am down like this. I can hear all the activities going on outside my room. I am so thankful for Davis and Anna, what great older siblings they are and what a help to me. I have been reading bits of a book by Ruth Bell Graham, Footprints of a Pilgrim. I have enjoyed learning about her life and her struggles as a mother. I have especially enjoyed her poetry. Below is a poem she wrote.....



For all these smallnesses

I thank you Lord

small children

and small needs

small meals to cook,

small talk to heed,

and a small book from which to read

small stories;

small hurts to heal,

small disappointments, too,

as real

as ours;

small glories to discover

in bugs,

pebbles,

and flowers.



When the day is through

my mind is small,

my strength is gone;

and as I gather

each dear one

I pray, "Bless each

for Jesus' sake

such angels sleeping, imps awake!"



What wears me out

are little things

angels minus

shining wings

Forgive me Lord

if I have whined

it takes so much to keep them shined;

yet each small rub has its reward,

for they have blessed me.

Thank you, Lord

Poetry Wednesday

Happy Birthday to my oldest son, Davis, who turns 17 today. Seventeen years ago I held all 9 1/2 pounds of this bundle , my boy, and I was completely overwhelmed at the thought that I was a mother. I remember saying to my husband as I held Davis, "I am afraid to love someone this much, it will hurt too much." Seventeen years and four children later, it has hurt but it has also been wonderful. I have loved so inadequately most of the time. I am so thankful for God's perfect love for me and my children. I wanted to find a poem that would say what I wanted to express to Davis today, but all the poems about sons reduced me to sappy tears and I had to resist the urge to run to him and beg him never to grow up and leave home! So I chose the poem below, because I want Davis (and his mama and siblings) to always follow love, even though it can be scary and hard, but it is so worth it. Happy Birthday Davis, I love you!

On Love
By Kahlil Gibran

When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.

Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,

that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart,

and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love,

for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself

But if you love and must needs have desires,

let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

You can read other poems here.

Falling on my knees.....

O holy night the stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees

O hear the angels' voices

O night divine O night when Christ was born



I sat yesterday morning in church sandwiched between my two boys, half listening to the music and thinking about what I needed to do when I got home. A woman stood up to sing "O Holy Night" and I was struck by the beauty of the song. In particular the line "fall on your knees" struck me. I thought, when was the we last time I fell on my knees in adoration of my Saviour? When was the last time I really was in awe of what He did and continues to do? It is not like I am not intentional or don't think about these things. I pray, read, ponder and am grateful. I think it is that some things are so familiar that we get used to them. How can I ever get used to God taking on flesh and conquering death? Yet, I do.... so today my gratitude list is about all the things in my life that are familiar, that I see daily and take for granted at times. May we prepare to be a womb for our Savior and may we fall down at his manger this week in gratitude for all he has done.......

81. I am grateful that I have been loved

82. I am grateful that I can sit in Church without fear, unlike many people in this world.


We read stories like these every morning and are grateful.


83. I am thankful that I have never had to see my children go hungry, or worry where the food will come from like so many other mothers


84. I am grateful that I can educate my children at home and for those who have gone before me so I could do this.


85. I am grateful to be warm, to have a roof over my head, as many people are without a home.


86. I am grateful for words, for books that are everywhere in this house. I am able to read and soak up what they have to offer.


87. I am grateful that the Lord has taken all my selfish "I will nevers" (homeschool, go on the mission field, adopt, etc.) and gently changed my heart and blessed me beyond what I could ever imagine by His grace.


88. I am grateful for the beauty that surrounds us daily, the birds, trees, sky, all proclaiming His glory.


89. I am grateful that I am a mother and a wife.


90. Most of all I am grateful that "The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us"

(John 1:14)


May you all have a wondeful Christmas!

Poetry Wednesday

I had my poem picked out over the weekend, I heard this lovely little poem at a Christmas concert. I had planned to have our family do our annual tradition of cutting down the tree, decorating and eating homemade cinnamon rolls. God had other plans for my weekend and I had to put my plans away and serve and give to someone else. (which I did very begrudgingly at first ) The Lord knows what I need for my salvation. So no picture of our Christmas tree to accompany this post. I love this poem because it shows the wonder of children and Christmas. Enjoy and read other poems here

little tree

by: E. E. Cummings

ITTLE tree

little silent Christmas tree

you are so little

you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest

and were you very sorry to come away?

see I will comfort you

because you smell so sweetly

I will kiss your cool bark

and hug you safe and tight

just as your mother would,

only don't be afraid

look the spangles

that sleep all the year in a dark box

dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,

the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms

and I'll give them all to you to hold

every finger shall have its ring

and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

and how they'll stare!

oh but you'll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands

and looking up at our beautiful tree

we'll dance and sing

"Noel Noel"

Poetry Wednesday

I have always loved this poem, the beauty of the words, the image they paint in my mind. I read it every year to my children. It always brings tears ( I am a little sentimental!)

You can read other poems here

In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, Whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, Whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

Christina Rossetti

photo: a favorite hike near Lake Michigan

Poetry Wednesday

Here is my poetry contribution, because I find peace in the beauty of the outdoors.....and I probably worry too much.....

The Peace of Wild Things

by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Have a peaceful Wednesday and look at other poetry here.