good sunday morning.

Praying

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones, just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

~Mary Oliver

{this is on Pinterest...but originally came from flickr...but is
from a private account that I cannot link to. But if you are the
one who made this amazing print (or know who did)...please let me know,
as I'd love to purchase a copy of my own to frame and love forever.}

I'm sorry...but I still can't get over how much I am loving poetry. I love to read it...I love to write it...I love to critique it and sit in a writing group having others critique my own...it's a whole new way to express myself. And this doesn't surprise anyone as much as it surprises ME.

Currently, Mary Oliver is a favorite...I'm reading a lot of her work for my final portfolio essay for creative writing. So many amazing poems...such beautiful words...incredible imagery...I'm sold.

And don't you just love a good lino cut? This print above...a combination of three of my favorite things, poetry, Mary Oliver and block prints...is almost more than I can stand. I'd love to have this in a print to frame and hang in my home.

So it's Friday...gotta get ready for work. I tidied up the place this morning and now I'm running a bit behind. I'm going Christmas shopping tonight with my mom...looking forward to that. And then the weekend...which will include a baby shower, taking Seth to an open parking lot to practice a stick shift and lots of school work. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?

What are you doing this weekend? I hope it involves something fun and refreshing...xoxo

a poem.

Let Everything Happen

Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,

then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like flame

and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you:

beauty and terror.

Just keep going.

No feeling is final.

Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It brings to mind something else...

Psalm 139:13-16

13 For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

15 My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me

were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I opened up my email this morning and my sweet friend, Kristin, had sent me this poem. I think it's beautiful. I hope you enjoy it, too. Isn't the first sentence so beautiful?

Can't you just imagine the hand of God creating you...knitting you together...forming you...placing everything just so...making you perfect in His eyes.

And all the while He's speaking to you, to me...whispering to us the truths of life. Whispering to us how much He loves us and how much He'll miss us while we're away.

Whispering to us...asking us not to forget Him.