So Will I

 

Amen

Memories

We are doing this song on our program tonight. I really love the words. So I wanted to share it here.

My neighbor who keeps inviting us to these events, told us about--- a violin flute concert last Saturday. At the last minute, I decided to go. Though I arrived a bit late, but only missed one number.

Towards the end, they played Vivaldi’s four Seasons. Actually, the violinist played only the Summer bit, since it was so long. And then ended with Ave Maria.

And anyhow, I wrote this poem afterwards.

I’ll have to write more about my adventures this week, when things settle down...

 

 

I am Mary when...

 

                                                                I am Mary.

                                                                When.

                                                                    My heart is open.

                                                                    As the sky.

   Giving life, and wind, as the birds pass by.

I am Mary when.

                                                                I love God in all his forms. See the beloved.

                                                                Through all the storms.

                                                                I am Mary.

                                                                When.

                                                                I find the space where God dwells within.

                                                                I am Mary, the mother of God, when I believe.

                                                                When I know.

                                                                Where Christ feet have been.

                                                                I Am Mary.

                                                                A Holy Virgin.

                                                                My own mother.

                                                                My own sacred space.

                                                                I find in my heart a temple.

                                                                God’s dwelling, and resting place.

                                                                Here, I’ll be a pillow sweet, a place, a paradise of God’s retreat.

                                                                And when I know where God is at.

                                                                I love him.

                                                                In the place he dwells at.

                                                                And in such love, pure, and good.

                                                                Christ spirit comes.

                                                                And I am reborn.

                                                                Nestled in a humble manger.

                                                                Love wells, and makes its home with children, and strangers.

                                                                Wise men come from the east.

                                                                Bearing gifts.

                                                                Tokens of kings.

                                                                                                I am Mary.

                                                                When.

                                                                I hold a sacred space within.

                                                                I wed God.

                                                                And love him true.

                                                                And The spirit of God is birthed through me, and given to you.

                                                                Spread out, a light, a word.

                                                                A knowing.

                                                                A sacred verse.

                                                                A mother.

     A home.

    Heaven.

Here on earth.

    One who wakes those who sleep.

     Till we remember.

      Beautiful truths, buried deep.

    We are Children of God.

                                                                Spirits of a holy mother.

                                                     Fathered by the word.

The living rod.

 

A Dream

 

Hey,

The program on Wednesday was quite beautiful, and I felt like there was a magic love bubble, and a seeing that happened was so nice. A third thing was there. I felt like God covered for me, in many ways.

And I see how we are all feather's for each other. And how beautiful it is---being coverings for one another. Giving love, and grace away.

Acceptance is a beautiful thing. Allowing oneself how one shows up is like air to my soul. 

                I really like Shirley's family. Bob, and Brain are very kind people. Everyone sang along with us, and I felt like there was a beautiful element there.  I want to write more, but I will keep this short, and say, that this week has been a growing week.

This is a little poem I wrote a while ago is how I feel about all this right now. I can't remember if I shared this before. But I sharing it now.

                         

A Dream

All this dance of life is but a dream, where we must learn love the unseen. 

So do not fret, as the flower fades. 

Cry or weep.  

Yes, mourn the decay.  

But know that within each living thing. 

There is an undying living  soul, a spring. 

And nothing real, and good and true, ever really dies. 

Or goes away. 

Learn to see beyond taste or touch. Learn to love beyond the beauty you see so much. 

Know yourself beyond what you do. 

Love those around you, by learning to love the real you. 

So that when the form fades and dies. 

You can hold the invisible forever by your side. 

Learn to love the music your hear cannot hear. Know the imperfections are just in your ear. 

Learn to love your heart, beyond your mistakes. 

Learn to love the broken, and things that break.  

See the spaces that hold the form. 

Note how well the sky holds the clouds. Look how well the page holds the words. 

See how well the dark holds the stars. 

How well the light warms your skin. 

See how well the wind holds the kite. 

How well, the space holds up the bike. 

And see all the supporting cast. 

The hidden background, the invisible force filling your mast. 

Look at the spaces, the gentle pause, the unspoken words, listening to your cause. 

And know, that this, beautiful space. 

Is grace. 

Holding you, and your form. 

And learn love the undying place.