Bees in My Bonnet

Pardon the poetry these days.  Sometimes it just spills out here and there.  Words emerge in mingled masses until I throw them on a scrap of paper, only to be lost somewhere along the way.  Here and there I may get them into this blog, for a more permanent chronicle of the gazillion thoughts that I think.  This one is mostly thoughts I am telling myself.  Am I the only one who talks to myself?  Hope not! Re- Re- tell, Re- write, Re- alize. Re-engage, Re-turn -  A turning again to what once was, that might have missed its place -  the place of significance, of priority, of impetus on your journey. Re-think, Re-new, Re-birth: Because these all flow,  each from the other. Re-open - open your eyes to see what has been there, but you never dared to see.   See reality.  See yourself.  See the love you haven't held. Re-visit - the things you tossed aside as useless - Gifts of heritage and faith. Re-evaluate.  You may find treasure. In your re

Do not think much of me for the things I say. Do not think much of me for the things I do. In fact, do not think much of me at all. Think much of Christ - of His greatness, worth and love, and then, Only then... Think much of me as His broken child - needy, helpless and empty; Waiting to be filled by Him, To be soul-fed by His real food and bonded to Him by His real drink. I thirst, and am nothing but a hungry child. Think much of my want, my lack, my nothingness. And think much of the Christ I love; the perfect Treasure of grace and truth, Whose supply abounds. There is nothing much to think of me, And oh, so much to think of Him.

I fill my home with words - on windows, walls, microwave, fridge and oven. Volumes full of words arranged on shelves form libraries of verbiage to plow up in search of some novel nugget - to turn slowly in the polishing chamber of the mind. No room shall lack them - words tucked in hidden places, Not the least: bathrooms, where one might flee for solitude and reflection. Words here will not be meaningless - lifeless chatter to fill empty spaces... floating around us merely with their wisdom and wit - Much more than arrangements of letters and words: Grace, love and joy spill from crevices, catching the eye, and maybe the soul unaware; Prompting a thought yet unthought - An impulse not quite begun. For those with ears to hear, eyes to see, and hearts ready to receive the seeds of truth will sit and wait - Beckon in their silence To all who enter.

Sometimes I am uninspired to write.  And then I discover (or re-discover) the joy of Haiku.  So I wrote three today.  Here they are! ********************************************** Never be settled Immune to the Voice of God His song is your joy. ********************************************* Bitter, cold winter Invites reflection inside Soul-work not quite done. ********************************************** Being and Longing Meet each other and rejoice. Married, they Belong. *********************************************

Someone asked me today what I thought my trajectory might be for 2016.  I said I really have no idea.  It isn't something one can answer off the cuff, if that one is me, I suppose.  After some thought I'm sure I will come up with something.  I like the word 'trajectory' better than 'goals', 'ambitions', or the dreaded, 'resolutions'.  (Sounds so final, and defining and confining, that one). You may have ideas for my proposed trajectory.  Or not.  But regardless, I felt a word of poetry was in order, because it has such rich meaning, and a great message for us all.  And since I didn't write it, I can commend it to you: Sleepers, Awake These are the dangerous days Christmas elation is past ornaments now put away bells are no longer ringing carolers cease their singing clean snow slowly grays. These are the dangerous days as we turn from adoring the child to adding up income taxes  to writing thank-you letters no