A Walk in the Woods

 It was, perhaps,

just a walk in the woods.

or, Lord,

was it more than that?

There was the hollow radi-tat-tat

high above from a dead tree

revealing a Redheaded Woodpecker.

I stood staring up in wonder

the vibrant red adorning the head,

the black feathers on the back, &

the white belly

all the while hammering away

at a dead tree.

I walked on

until a sort of scamper-slither

crossed the path.

Again I stopped to notice

a black lizard body

with stripes of bright blue and orange 

on the Skink standing still before me.

I walked on

until a tunnel of live oak branches dressed in resurrection fern

fringed with Spanish moss.

invited me down an aisle

to a sacred altar, a thin place,

where heaven and earth seemed to touch.

Yes, Lord,

it was a walk in the woods,

a sacred communion,

a holy time,

a deeper connection with fellow creatures,

a time to wonder

at your beautiful intricate web called,

Creation,

a masterpiece of the finest order 

by the oldest of artist,

you, O Lord.

I look forward to my next visit

to your gallery.

Amen

______

This prayer was inspired by a recent visit to Skidaway Island State Park, Georgia.

Prayer on a Rainy Day

Pitter pat, pat, pat
goes the rain outside the window.
Lord,

It's a calming sound,
a sleepy sound,
a deceivingly peaceful sound.

For those same pitter pats
can quickly become a torrent river
washing away everything in it's path.
Just ask Noah,
or anyone who has experienced a flood. 

Lord,
today it's a gentle rain
lulling me to sleep...
Pitter pat, pat, pat.

When I wake,
the vibrant grass,
the budding flower,
the buzzing bee,
the singing bird
will greet me
awakened, anew, afresh,
on a Spring day.

For now,
it's the pitter pat, pat, pat
of a promise being fulfilled.
"For as the rain and the snow
come down from heaven and
do not return there
until they have watered the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower
and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be
that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish
that which I purpose
and succeed in the thing
for which I sent it."
--Isaiah 55:10-11

Pitter pat, pat, pat
Amen

Confessing Dumb Words

"Set a guard over my mouth, Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips." -- Psalms 141:3 NIV

Why?! Why? O Lord,
Why do I say dumb things?
As soon as it was out of my mouth,
I regretted it.

If it had been the first time
I said something dumb,
I would get over it.
I had hoped I had learned by now
to pause, to think,
to choose my words.

Forgive me, Lord.
May the other forgive me too.
Help me forgive myself.
Help me learn what the psalmist says,
"Set a guard over my mouth, Lord, keep watch over the door of my lips."

Yes, Lord,
make it so for me.
Amen.

Prayer in a Time of Grief

Lord,

you know grief too.

At the news of the death of your friend Lazarus,

you wept.

Grief is a reality of living and loving. I heard a Bible scholar recently who shed new light on Jesus' beatitude, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."

Mourning, grieving does not feel like a blessing, yet our grief and our sadness come from the fact that we had significant relationships, which are now lost. So in that way, we are blessed because we loved and were loved in profound ways. Our grief is a product of that love now lost.

Wipe our tears, O God, wipe our tears.

Receive our grief, and listen to our cries,

for we have loved and been loved

and now we know loss.

So, come Holy Spirit, and comfort us

as only you can.

May our memories fill us with laughter and sadness,

even as our faith fills us with hope and the promise of joy.

Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Don't short change our grief, but don't let it lead us to despair.

Remind us that no matter what, in living and in dying,

we belong to you, O Blessed Savior, Loving Redeemer, Living Lord.

Hear us as we pray for 

all who have experienced loss.

Lord, in your mercy,

hear our prayers.

Amen.

Wings & Bible study

Yum.

Lord,

Tonight's my favorite meal:

Chicken wings and wing chips!

Eating wings reminds me of studying the Bible.

When I eat wings,

I savor every bite.

I pull the bones apart.

I use every bit of sauce:

Garlic Parmesan, Teriyaki, and Buffalo 

too name a few.

I especially like the buffalo heat, often saying,

"If I'm not sweating, I'm not eating."

I lick my fingers and make a mess of the napkin.

It's the reason wings come with a wet wipe!

Lord,

Thank you for chicken wings!

Lord,

You know I liken Bible study to eating wings.

Digging into the story 

paying attention to the details

and even noting what's left out.

I like to copy the words onto a separate page

and pull the words apart

looking at the original language

seeking to understand the wider meaning of the words.

Surrounding myself with lots of translations, looking for the differences.

"If I'm not challenged, I'm not studying."

My paper ends up covered in highlights,

connecting lines, and questions in the margins.

Like eating wings,

Bible study is best 

in community with others

with a variety of backgrounds and points of view.

It makes for a richer fuller

flavor and experience.

At the end, I lean back in my seat

filled, contented,

knowing what is meant by,

"Taste and see that the Lord is good!"

-Psalm 34:8a

Amen

Writing a Book

Lord, 

today I decided to do something I've been too afraid to do 

because I didn't want to fail.

I don't like failure;

I don't know many people who do.

Yet lately I've been reading more and more

that we learn more from failure than we do from success.

So today I am going to write a book.

Not a big book.

Not all at once.

It is a book that has been brewing 

since I first wrote these, "Almost Daily Prayers"

twelve years ago.

It is a devotional book:

30 days with Almost Daily Prayer.

It will be just like this blog has been:

an honest reflection on scripture and life

holding both together through prayer

in the presence of you, O God.

Who knows who might read it?!

That's not the point.

The point is in the writing, in the praying, 

in the reflecting on life and faith and you, O God.

It is time.

So let us begin:

Let us pray...

Rest Well, Dear One

Lord,

Her gentle snores

are a comforting sound.

I expect they are

the same sounds I heard in her womb.

Tonight my mother rests.

She has had a hard few days

with nausea, vomit, 

bowel obstruction, NG tube insertion twice,

Then surgery, and bowel resection.

Now she sleeps peacefully

in her hospital bed. 

Perhaps this is the first peace she's known

in days, weeks, or longer.

Her small snores

are a peaceful sound. 

Rest well, Dear One.

May God bless you and keep you 

this night and forever more. 

Amen 

Today I sit by a hospital bed

Today I sit by a hospital bed.
I have done it countless times before
accompanying saints and sinners alike 

through illness, tragedy, and even death.
It's hallowed ground beside a hospital bed,
just as holy as the pulpit, fount, and table, 
here with hymn of  beeps of IV pumps, ringing of nurses' phones, and hiss of oxygen,
here with the confession of human frailty and interdependence,
here with need to help and be helped,
here somewhere between living and dying,
here in the embodiment of the hand of God through the hands of others - nurses, doctors, therapist, CNAs, phlebotomists, social workers, and the lady who mops the floor.

Today I sit by a hospital bed.
This time it's my Dad's.
He moves fluidly between mumbling in his dreams to asking me what the next step is to wrathing in pain to a quiet slumber. 
"I'm bored just lying here." 
He's been here 14 days and probably more to come.
"Ow, ah. My back hurts. I've got to move."
I try to adjust him in the bed and arrange the pillows.
"What about a sub for lunch?"
He hasn't eaten much of anything in days, but we'll try.
"When's Mom coming?"
They've been married 56 years.

My wife's bringing her soon.

Today I sit by a hospital bed
and I pray

as I have countless times before.
I pray for healing, for strength, for peace, relief from pain, for recovery, for well-being.
I pray:
Lord, help.
Lord, heal.
Lord, hold us all in your loving embrace.
May your kingdom come,
May your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.

Today I sit by a hospital bed 

and wait.

Trusting that our only comfort in living and in dying 

is that we belong body and soul to our faithful Savior Jesus Christ.*

In whose name I pray.

In whose name I wait.

_________

This thought reflects the first question and answer of the Heidelberg Catechism:

1     Q.   What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A.  That I am not my own,^1 but belong— body and soul, in life and in death—^2 to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.^3 He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,^4 and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.^5 He also watches over me in such a way^6 that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven;^7 in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.^8 Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life^9 and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.^10

^1 1 Cor. 6:19 ^2 Rom. 14:8 ^3 1 Cor. 3:23 ^4 1 Pet. 1:18; 1 John 1:7; 2:2 ^5 1 John 3:8 ^6 John 6:39 ^7 Matt. 10:30;Luke 21:18 ^8 Rom. 8:28 ^9 2 Cor. 1:22;5:5; Eph. 1:14;Rom. 8:16 ^10 Rom. 8:14 

"What Comes Next"

The below poem moved me.
Thought I'd share it here:


"What Comes Next"   a poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Love relentlessly.
—Diana Butler Bass

Love relentlessly, she said,
and I want to slip these two words
into every cell in my body, not the sound
of the words, but the truth of them,
the vital, essential need for them,
until relentless love becomes
a cytoplasmic imperative,
the basic building block for every action.
Because anger makes a body clench.
Because fear invokes cowering, shrinking, shock.
I know the impulse to run, to turn fist, to hurt back.
I know, too, the warmth of cell-deep love—
how it spreads through the body like ocean wave,
how it doesn’t erase anger and fear,
rather seeds itself somehow inside it,
so even as I contract love bids me to open
wide as a leaf that unfurls in spring
until fear is not all I feel.
Love relentlessly.
Even saying the words aloud invites
both softness and ferocity into the chest,
makes the heart throb with simultaneous
urgency and willingness. A radical pulsing
of love, pounding love, thumping love,
a rebellion of generous love,
tenacious love, a love so foundational
every step of what’s next begins
and continues as an uprising,
upwelling, ongoing, infusion
of love, tide of love, honest love.

______

The above poem shared from: https://ahundredfallingveils.com/2025/02/03/what-comes-next-2/

Rooted and flexible

 Lord,
This has been a hard year.
My brother's brain tumor, but he's still alive and remarkably strong.
Caring for both of my parents.
We are learning the dance of adult-child & parents.
Even as I write my father is in the hospital. While his death is not immanent, I sense that we are closer than ever before.

Life is changing. 
My mother noted recently:
"Just when things seem to settle, 
something tips the balance."
A farmer businessman in my first church rightly observed,
"The sole constant in life is change."

Living in a place prone to hurricanes, I've learned from the trees:
In a storm, better to be flexible, bending with the winds all the while deeply rooted, instead of being tense and fixed for that's when things break and come crashing down. 
Hurricane Hugo from my preteen years taught me that truth.

Today is still hard.
And yet I am seeking two things:
1. Rooting myself deeper
in my faith in God,
in my love for my family,
in my care for myself,
in learning to set healthy boundaries,
in asking for and accepting help.
2. Learning to be flexible by 
appreciating the moment,
practicing curiosity,
accepting differences,
choosing to respond instead of react,
learning to do ministry with instead of to others,
listening for/seeking the image of God in others and myself.

Lord,
help me be as a tree
deeply rooted and flexible
planted by streams of your living water.
May I be resilient in every season
and fruitful in the proper season,
just as you made me to be.
Amen