a prophetic voice-

Spent some time with my favorite poet last evening, reading some of the "gems" from Mary Oliver's latest volume, A Thousand Mornings. And as I read the words of one of them, "Poem of the One World", I wept, the beauty of the words overtaking me, astounding me, aweing me, bringing me to my knees, for I was hearing the voice of God coming from the pen of this seventy-eight-year-old poet. Thanks be to God!   POEM OF THE ONE WORLD by Mary Oliver This morning the beautiful white heron was floating above the water and then into the sky of this the one world we all belong to where everything sooner or later is a part of everything else which thought made me feel for a little while quite beautiful myself.

"No one ever tells us what happens when you get old." The sweet, white-haired woman seated in the wheelchair before me clung to my hand and looked searchingly into my eyes. "I never knew it would be like this- that my world would get smaller and smaller, that there would be fewer and fewer things I can do." There she sat in her lovely, red, wool sweater, gazing out the windows at the chill sunshine outdoors. "I made it, you know, quite a few years ago," she responded when I complimented her on the cheerful beauty of what she wore. "I used to knit quite a lot, and I still can, but my hands get cramped if they are in one position too long, and I have a little more trouble keeping track of the rows and the stitches." A lovely woman, a sweet expression on her countenance, but I could hear her frustration, her longing, for what could never again be. "We lose many things as we get older, don't we?" I mused. "Oh, yes," ca...

Here I am, no longer young, No longer middle-aged, but moving Into old age which lies ahead With the seeming-inevitability of my Next breath. And how will I receive it, this Passage of life's time? Will I embrace it as a warm and Welcoming friend, or will I fight Tooth and nail to hold it a t Arm's length? Can I see and accept both the Gifts it brings and the losses of Those things which slip away? Can I spend this aging time in embracing both cherished memories And the active, daring present? Can I accept the limitations of a Changing body while still caring Wisely & well for my physical, Mental, and spiritual health? Today is the day I have, at Seventy-one years and five days Of age. May I live it fully, with both Wisdom and joy, open to both Giving and receiving. And when I lie down to sleep This night, may I embrace the Healing tenderness of rest from My labors of love and living.  

I find I am not up to company in which I cannot be myself today. What a dreadful thing to have to say about church, of all places. But I heard it yesterday...the reactions when I replied, "Fine," without any accompanying exuberance to the question, "How are you today?". "Only fine?" one person said. "That doesn't sound like you," said another. I had attended my first Al-Anon meeting in the morning and the reality of that was still clinging to me, giving me comfort but also making me very aware of this new journey on which I was embarked. There the masks were dropped...there, we were encouraged to be fully ourselves. Well, I don't want to have to put on a mask in order to be in company, so it is easier to stay by myself on this Epiphany Sunday, to read & write & think & pray. There is email for contact, and the phone if I want to hear another's voice. Just makes me feel incredibly sad that the message seems to be th...

My new year has begun, not with a bang but with a whimper, a plaintive cry of, "Help me. Help my child." And that prayer is being answered as the first baby steps toward recovery are being taken by my son. Gratitude overflows from my heart...for the God-in-human-flesh made manifest to me in my precious friends and family, far and near, who are offering support, who are surrounding us in love and light. Incarnation indeed. Epiphany indeed. Thanks be to God.