Considering how the shadow of our life also masks our personal light, but to ourselves, not to others. How do we help one another shine?
Tag: Light
Fierce Mama
No meek and mild lady,no pasty, polite socialite —This one, a woman after God’s own heart,brave virgin girl,clips the string of expectations,snips the cord of cultural norms, carves space in the depths of her being—Falls into a wide open, “YES”,stretches into wily woman. Shesteps toward the one who embraces,supports her in tender growth.Together, wombs leap, life sparks.Now, this one, fire in her belly,glorifies God amid trial,stands tall for justice.She moves to the rhythm of mercy,the song of the Spirit.This one, fierce mama,births brilliance in open air, ina span of dirt and crumbs.She and her beloved area mysterious, spectacle of love.Wise…
Making Room in the Darkness
You see, dear one There are mysteries you don’t understand, tragedies you don’t comprehend. I am the Mother who hovers and veils all my children with steady, beating love in times of darkness, with rolling waves of compassion in the waiting. I hold the sorrow of hearts and place them in the night sky, a remembrance of luster and ebony twirling together. I live within the container and beyond the container— vibrations of my voice heard even in the driest desert. Remember me? Blessed Mother Mother of Grace Mother of Strength Holy Mother Mother of Jesus Mother of You. I…
Meet Luna
An intimate encounter with dear Luna, the first image that arose from the canvas through a process of intentional creativity. As I worked, she began blue, frosty, slowly warmed to the color of rainbow flesh. This is what she speaks to me: “I’ve been with you all along; you’ve been afraid to let me come forth. I’ve shown a crescent, a half, but now I am rising anew. I am turning toward the full light— the Great Light the one who goes before us— Creator You are letting me be birthed, be shown, in all my glory, all my colors….
Open Hands, Beloved
Dear one, I see you with your hands clenched tight, eyes twisted in agony, the divine squeezed to the size of a mustard seed, nearly unable to breathe, knotted up in past confusion and future uncertainty. You, holding tight to the reigns of control, to they way things should be, oughta be. But, dear one (and I say this gently, with love) — nothing can ever, (ever) be received or given with hands shut. So then, beloved, feel the mustard seed of divinity in your hands? The golden bit of goodness flowing through your being? This is the warmth of…