bustle, bustle
the shopping bags rustle.
the shoppers line up
looping around store corners,
stamping their feet against the cold.
presents for everyone - the rich and
the poor, family and friends. Good will
and profit margins and sales too good
to miss.
and I, I just want to curl up, slip
away from this glittering world of
knick-nacks and gizmos, and things
that I never knew I needed (and things
I didn't need after all). Slip away from
the madness, the Black Fridays and the
Boxing Days, the blowout sales, the buy
buy, buy, now, now now.
(Sorry about the disappearing act, all. It's been a very dry season for my writing. Even now, I'm very rusty )
Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Free to stand tall- Reflections on Luke 13 : 10-22
Bent double, crippled inside and out, that had been my life for the past eighteen years. Eighteen years of pain and doubt and fear, fear the crippled me from the inside out ....
I had always been a worrier, as a young child I carried the cares of the world on my shoulders, listening intently in the night to my parents whispers of concern over whether or not they could eke out the provisions until my father received pay for his latest work. My father was a craftsman, a carpenter, strong and steady, a perfectionist, often their whisperings were concerned with the speed of his work, a little more speed a little less perfection my mother would urge, the pay would be the same. but he would have none of it, a perfectionist to the end.
I would lie awake and worry, worry that the burden of a daughter, an extra mouth to feed was to much for them, my two brothers were already learning the trade, becoming useful, but that was not the way for me and so I worried.
I worried as I grew older, no man would look at me twice for I was no stunning beauty, neither did I have a dowry to speak of. I worried that I would continue to be a burden. Slowly but surely the fears and the worrying ate away at my insides.
My mother died first, she was not old, and so I took over keeping house for my father, cooking and cleaning, caring for him. My brothers were married now, living close by, they and their families would gather with us to celebrate the Sabbath meal, a happy time, and yet one where I would sense myself sinking further and further into the background.
Eight years I lived in this way, caring for my father, when he became ill with a fever, I nursed him day and night, it took him a week to go, and suddenly I was alone. Alone, and afraid!.....
I had always been a worrier, as a young child I carried the cares of the world on my shoulders, listening intently in the night to my parents whispers of concern over whether or not they could eke out the provisions until my father received pay for his latest work. My father was a craftsman, a carpenter, strong and steady, a perfectionist, often their whisperings were concerned with the speed of his work, a little more speed a little less perfection my mother would urge, the pay would be the same. but he would have none of it, a perfectionist to the end.
I would lie awake and worry, worry that the burden of a daughter, an extra mouth to feed was to much for them, my two brothers were already learning the trade, becoming useful, but that was not the way for me and so I worried.
I worried as I grew older, no man would look at me twice for I was no stunning beauty, neither did I have a dowry to speak of. I worried that I would continue to be a burden. Slowly but surely the fears and the worrying ate away at my insides.
My mother died first, she was not old, and so I took over keeping house for my father, cooking and cleaning, caring for him. My brothers were married now, living close by, they and their families would gather with us to celebrate the Sabbath meal, a happy time, and yet one where I would sense myself sinking further and further into the background.
Eight years I lived in this way, caring for my father, when he became ill with a fever, I nursed him day and night, it took him a week to go, and suddenly I was alone. Alone, and afraid!.....
more here.
Artist- Njuguna
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Self Deception
I can surround myself
with books,
with music,
with prayers,
written and
unwritten…
yet I remain far from you.
.
I can read blogs
and web-sites
hoping to find
a crumb of
comfort
words of solace and relief,
yet I remain far from you.
.
It is only when
I look within,
when I discover the barriers
of self-loathing,
that I understand, the obstacle
to your love
is me!
.
How easily I declare
myself unworthy,
untouchable,
unclean.
.
How easily I reject your love
and fail to understand that
in love you long to
include me,
enfold me,
embrace me.
.
Come gentle Spirit
Help me to tear down
these walls,
these lies,
this blindness,
that keeps me
from you
Corss posted from Eternal Echoes
with books,
with music,
with prayers,
written and
unwritten…
yet I remain far from you.
.
I can read blogs
and web-sites
hoping to find
a crumb of
comfort
words of solace and relief,
yet I remain far from you.
.
It is only when
I look within,
when I discover the barriers
of self-loathing,
that I understand, the obstacle
to your love
is me!
.
How easily I declare
myself unworthy,
untouchable,
unclean.
.
How easily I reject your love
and fail to understand that
in love you long to
include me,
enfold me,
embrace me.
.
Come gentle Spirit
Help me to tear down
these walls,
these lies,
this blindness,
that keeps me
from you
Corss posted from Eternal Echoes
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