Suitcases and rose petals

Suitcases and rose petals

My daughter and I found this while shopping ye...

Rose petals on the stair case.

Rose petals down the hall.

Rose petals leading to the sauna.

Rose petals on the garden wall.

The petals of the roses

Are now blowing in the wind;

As are  all the promises you gave me

 The night you took me in.

Why did I fall so deeply?

Why did I ever fall at all?

What was in

the  rose-covered suitcases

You had waiting in the hall?

English: The white rose

English: The white rose (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The movies

In the past fifteen years I have seen three movies:

Titanic, Horton hears a Who and Benjamin Button.

So I am at a loss to express my deep gratitude

 and spiritual awakening

After the viewing of Benjamin Button.

For me, it was excellantly crafted, cut from the cloth of the robe of God.

It moved me.

It shook me.

It helped me heal.

I faced my grief, my anger and my joy

to only have it cascading in on me,

as profound sadness and elation again in the next scene.

(I was to be a ballerina this lifetime….fate had other plans.

By the time I was 8 years old I weighed eighty pounds

and looked like a full back on the men’s football team.)

So a movie about the dance and the dance of life

Will challenge me to ever

 take its memory from me as

the best movie of my life.

I saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thirteen times.

I only want a percentage of the royalties

I will generate by enrolling

all my friends into the viewing

and partaking of this moveable visual feast.

Oh my goodness, I feel drained and inspired all in one breathe.

The “emotional roll in the hay of my life experiences” expressed in this movie

Has left me quite for a loss of expression, except perhaps:

For me, it was excellantly crafted, cut from the cloth of the robe of God.

Service is the Silence

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Photo with Sonny Galea  Jasper National Park      September 1, 2008

When I come to the place of Silence

With a heart full of laughter and joy.

It is in that moment

That I am the Master’s toy.

When I allow Him to give me instructions

When I put His work at the ‘fore

When I dedicate all my energy and actions

When I live here “as below so above”.

I do not have to wait for the rapture

I serve in the moment with love.

Then I know that this lifetime is more.

More of His infinite mercy

More of His boundless gifts

More opportunities of service

More of His children to lift.

A smile, a hug or a greeting

Acknowledges the Soul I am meeting.

Then there is no surprise

That  I see the Master

In  another eyes.




My Ticket Home

When faced with an illness

An accident

A fall

I rejoice

Asking

“Is this my ticket home?

Am I about to answer the call?”

The wise one who teaches me

Answers with a kind laugh in his voice…

“You are already Home.”

Acceptance dances as one with  Soul.

I delight in this moment.

I know I am Home.

I truly rejoice.

I am whole.

The Homeless Outcast

 

 He slept where he stopped.

He never owned a car.

He carried no identification

He did not have hospital coverage.

He had no political affiliation.

He was clothed unlike others.
He ran with a pack.

He did not shave.
Never operated a computer.

Never carried a cell phone

His hair was long.

He did not have a place to live.

He was not employed.
He was clothed unlike others.
He moved around alot.
He was  ‘not to be trusted’.
He was not  ‘one of us.’
A loner.

Many said he had delusions of grandeur.

He really never fitted it.
He was disruptive.
He gathered crowds.
He spoke loud.
He lost his temper.

“Why would  we allow  this man on our streets?

Can’t the “city father’s ” do something about this?

This should not be allowed on our streets you say?

This is not to be tolerated by hard-working tax -payers.

Homelessness you say…too big a burden.

It is not my concern.

He was probably always a  no one.”

 

Would you take the time  to know him?.

Would you like to know what he is up to?

Would you like to know what he has to say?

He is someone’s son.
He is someone’s friend.
He is someone’s brother.
He matters to them.

 

Would you like to know his name?

His name is Jesus.

 

Would we crucify him the way we just did
This  homeless man ?

You never know behind whose eyes
The Master is hiding.

My home is a palace…a temple of Praise…dedicated to Justin….

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.

A launching pad

‘Tis my jumping off place

I embrace and am renewed

I bask in the Master’s grace.

I have sunlight enough

To flood over my face.

The moonlight calls me

To its sweet embrace.

The serenity, the safety

the sensuousness of the place

Often has me blushing

With enjoyment of this space.

I live among the joyful.

I live among the free.

I live with joy and laughter.

Come over one day for tea.

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.

I thrive on the abundance.

I move within the song.

I wish I had the time

To be here in my palace

All day long.

I would fluff up my pillows.

I would turn the music down low.

I would put my feet up.

I would read or relax.

I would make the baby quilt.

I would paint my picture.

Or draw.

I would never have to go to work

I would not have to be a part of the maw.

I would sit and watch the birds

As they play among the trees.

Alas, I have my obligations…

I have clothes to mend.

A pot tea is waiting

While I eat bannock with my friend.

My home is a palace,

A temple of praise.

A place of worship,

A portal of joy.

I long to sit and twitter

I long to sit and twitter

Like the chickadee.

Oh to sing my dee-dee song.

For all eternity.

I want to live among the branches.

I want to fly upon the breeze.

I long to sit and twitter

Like the chickadee.

He has no worries.

He has no cares.

He sings his song all morning.

He ends at evening prayers.

His song is a gift of praise.

His life brings joy to all.

I long to sit and twitter

Listening to the Master’s call.