a prophetic voice-

Two poems today, one from early morning when I was serenaded by a wren and a robin, perched together on my deck railing, singing in chorus...the second written this evening, as I recalled the scenery on my drive home, the vivid green where only short weeks ago there had been only brown...my words offered tonight as my way of saying goodbye to April and bidding a welcome to May. true community Unity Community A wren and a robin Perched on my deck railing  Voices lifted in chorus Tiny wren Full-breasted robin Differences forgotten Unimportant As their two voices Became one in Offering greeting To the new day spring greenery... All around me the world is greening the green of growth and aliveness                   of springtime and new birth every imaginable shade and hue                              with a few       ...

I was tired last evening, so I went to bed early- about 9:30- and fell quickly into a deep sleep. I became caught up in a dream and I abruptly awoke at 12:30a.m. with an image clearly in my mind... a phrase which had come from I-know-not-where but which would not let me rest until I had put it down on paper, lest it be forgotten by morning. And so I grabbed my journal and my pen and wrote... and the phrase turned into complete thoughts and the thoughts turned into verses...and what emerged in the wee hours of Sunday morning were these lines... star light, star bright... I dreamed myself among the stars soaring through space weightless yet still embodied                           still myself my head thrown back in utter joy as, freely borne, I saw in the Milky Way a light-filled path      to where? Eternity? ...

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to be preaching about Thomas, the disciple we've tagged with the sobriquet, "Doubting Thomas"... as if the other ten guys didn't doubt. After all, the story in John's gospel takes place on the evening of the day of Resurrection... the women had visited Jesus' tomb and were told by an angel, no less, that Jesus had been raised, was no longer there. And Peter and John, two of the inner circle, had checked it out for themselves and found that the women weren't suffering from hysteria- the grave was indeed empty. Good news, right? So why are they gathered together in a locked room, shaking with fear? Afraid, perhaps, that Jesus' fate awaited them? Afraid of how they could go on without their leader, teacher, friend? Or afraid that if Jesus really were alive and showed up, he would be totally pissed off at their desertion and denials and all-round cowardice? That he would ream them out royally for their failure of...

In the sanctuary on Good Friday... The world around me is greening...coming to life      leaves      grass      flowers abound yet a heaviness of heart persists, even amidst nature's bounty              beauty Perhaps it is the ever-present awareness that far fewer springs await me than have gone before. Perhaps it is the loss of friends and family, those once so central in my life. Perhaps it is the niggling fear- which I mostly keep at bay- that I will outlive the resources I possess...      and then what? Before me hangs a purple-shrouded cross... and sitting in this silent sanctuary, I breathe this prayer...     God, grant me the serenity     to accept what I cannot change...               aging               losses              ...

For some reason, last evening, I was thinking about creeds, about how the words of the ancient, traditional creeds of the Church no longer seem to speak my heart's truth, my life's experience. I realize this is, in some circles, pure heresy, but I have long been a heretic when it comes to orthodoxy, so my straying off the tried- and- true and accepted path is  nothing new. In fact, if truth be told, I spend most of my time off the beaten spiritual path, either wandering in the wilderness of my own doubts and questions or dancing in the cleansing, enlightening rain of joy and wonder and mystery with no need for any answers at all. And so, when I awoke this morning with these things still tumbling around in my mind, I decided to compose my own personal creed, putting into words my heartfelt beliefs- at least for today. I share them i n the hope that they may speak truth to some of you, too, fellow pilgrims. +I believe in a God who perpetually creates all that is ...

Today, I spent the day, the entire day, in Charlotte, seeing two plays, productions of the Children's Theatre of Charlotte. Oh, yes, there were many things, so very many things, I could have been doing here at home...like cleaning the basement...or working in the yard...or doing laundry...or balancing my checkbook...but I chose- yes, CHOSE- to immerse myself in imagination and wonder and fantasy and joy and the laughter of children...to be actively present in the NOW of what was happening onstage. And it so filled me with pleasure that I will be borne along on the feeling for many days to come. Of course, it helps that my son, Mark, was involved with both productions. He created the amazing owl puppets for "The Owl who Was Afraid of the Dark" and worked with the actors who were bringing them to life onstage. And he was the voice of and brought life to the huge "Reluctant Dragon", an amazing creation which took four actors to manipulate and animat...

The grayness of the day is Like a shroud Reflects my mood Makes me long to Crawl back into bed And sleep it all away Perhaps I will- For a little while- Only the bed is made And remaking it Seems hardly worth The effort- so I'll stay up And face the day with a Less-than-perfect Frame of mind My attitude needing a Radical adjustment- Which seems too Complicated to contemplate At this very lonely Gray moment... Maybe later

As this Holy Week begins, resurrection, new life, is evident all around, in every flower and blooming, leafing tree, where only a few short weeks ago, there was only barrenness and it seemed as if Spring would never come. Yet, here it is, once again, shining with the promise that lay dormant in the quiet buds on recently- ice-covered branches...alive with brimming life, reassuring us once again, yet again, that out of death comes life...out of the darkest places in our lives comes the grace of hope...out of the tombs in which we seem to lie enshrouded comes the wonder, the joy, the hope, the gift of beginning again. For Christians, this week is a time to walk the last difficult road with Jesus of Nazareth, the road which went from the seeming triumph of Palm Sunday to his arrest, torture, humiliation, trial, and finally, his death by that execution method so favored by the Romans- crucifixion. For those not among the faithful- the Christian faithful- t...

I have come to love living in the Piedmont Triad of North Carolina. Oh, yes, our state has its share of problems, not the least of which is our present retrogressive state government and its rush to enact laws which will do anything but enhance our state' image in the eyes of many, including many of its own residents. But this area of the state which I have called home for the past twenty- four years has been blessed with an overwhelming abundance in the realm of the Arts. And for an art/film/theater/music lover like me, it is my idea of heaven. My own city, High Point, is admittedly lacking in this realm, though we are home to North Carolina Shakespeare (which has struggled mightily with finances in recent years), the High Point Theater series, and the High Point Community Chorus- of which I am delighted to be a part this year. But living, as I do, between the other two major metropolitan areas, I am able to easily access the incredible opportunities available t...