A Year of Seeing: “119”




I had lost count of 

how many days we have been here

in this new way of life that

we keep resisting on some level but that

is relentless in its insistence that

we are being transformed into something

different, something possible and whole.

Our fears grab our ankles and choke our voices

as our ears turn towards that

still small voice that whispers through

the anxieties that rise up in the night.


I had lost count of

how much time had passed,

and perhaps that is a grace in itself,

because I was here in this place,

at least for a moment, now.


What is this desert we are traveling through?

What is the desert you are traveling through?

How long, O Lord?

As long as it takes.


This morning when I walked into the nave

to prepare for prayers, I looked past

the empty pews and my eye rested on

the red light there on the chancel,

that small beacon holding silent vigil

for all this time, never tiring or stressing

in its constant assurance that God is here.

Maybe I can be here too.




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