GRACE FLAKES

Your grace falls softly like snowflakes…gently…uniquely. 
Collectively the crystals gather, illuminating our
darkness even in the night when we crave your presence
or forget you are as near to us as you are.
                  
We watch flakes grow smaller then big again and sense the wooing to calm our spirits, to rest in this blanket of love, to accept the miracle of nourishment, both to earth and our inner soil and soul.


As more flakes grow into tall mounds of white help us remember we are safe,
That snow angels encamp about us outside. Continue to protect us as we trust you to be our refuge in times of trouble and stress.

 Let us feel the soft feathers of your winged love regardless of cold, flood and angst. Remind us that stilling ourselves in you brings peace that passes understanding

My Psalm 23 Prayer

By Tawna Wilkinson

                                   

Ten years ago, during a very dark night in my life, Psalm 23 came to me in a breathtaking shaft of light. The truth is that “common” scripture I memorized as a child, and heard over and over, literally saved my life in those moments of terror. It gifted me with a strange peace I was extremely thankful for.

A few weeks back, a circumstance presented itself – just one more, in a long line of challenges since the death of my dad 15 months past. I had a bout with appendicitis. Although the intensity of the experience was not nearly as dramatic as my “dark night”, or the death of my dad…. it was tough.

And on one particular night while still in the hospital, I hit a point of deep discouragement. And the Lord brought me back to Psalm 23 in an intriguing form of encouragement. He invited me to say it to Him, in my own words, as a prayer of thanksgiving; as if my life was already complete.

This is what I prayed:

“You Lord, were always my Shepherd. Throughout my life You caused me to lie down, repeatedly in soft, green pastures. You led me beside peaceful, still waters. And You lovingly and gently stored, and re-stored my soul.

Papa, all of my life You led me in Your sweet paths of  righteousness, for the sake of Your holy and beautiful name.

Even though I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I have feared absolutely nothing, because You are still with me.

Your rod and Your staff, although hard, comforted me many times. As I knew that those whom You love You discipline.

More than once You laid out a feasting table for me to sit at in the very presence of the enemy of my soul. 

Over and over, You abundantly anointed my head with oil; my cup overflowed.

Surely goodness and mercy did more than follow me all the days of my earthly life. I not only lived on this earth in Your presence. But am now living in it with You, forever.”

The comfort I was absorbed in as I chose each word was profound. To thankfully pray my version of Psalm 23 to Him as if I had actually entered eternity gifted me with another breathtaking shaft of light. He shed peace on my past, recent past and future. And He filled me once again, with a quiet calm regarding my present situation.

THE MYSTERY OF FAITH: PERIPHERAL VISION

And here you are, 

Teasing in the corner of my eye,
Offering peripheral visions,
Knowing
That what can’t be borne
in sunlight
May still be known
in shadow.
 “Sometimes we can come to know a thing only by averting our gaze, by not shocking it with the full force of our looking…”

“…God longs to be courted, to dwell in a mystery that keeps us aching to touch the skin beneath the shadow.”

Quotes and the partial poem above are from the book In Wisdom’s Path, by Jan L. Richardson, Wanton Gospeller Press, © 2000,                  Website link: http://www.janrichardson.com/about.html
 
“Immortal, invisible, God only wise, In light inaccessible hid from our eyes…”
       (Lyrics from the hymn, “Immortal, Invisible,” Welsh melody, Walter Chalmers Smith (1824-1908)

Thoughts and ponderings of paradox mill much in my mind these days.  One of the most intriguing to me is how those who celebrate the mystery of faith (The crux: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again”), embrace a truth that is an intangible tangible.  We can’t touch or physically hold this faith, but we see its rays of light radiating strongly in darkness from those who believe in the mystery of God. Faith in this mystery that is our Creator, Redeemer and Friend, sustains those in grief and loss, gives hope to those who can’t see beyond the next bend in life as they wait for guidance or healing, lends meaning and significance to unanswered questions, and cradles in love those who desire and know the depth of God’s love for them.

Right before Thanksgiving my husband Steve and I attended the celebration of life service for Paul, the husband my dear friend Deb, who I've known for over 35 years. Their daughter, age 20, and son, age 16, and Deb knew that their father and husband walked in the mystery of this deep faith. He died way too soon of brain cancer at age 58. Trying to dissect this or look at it head on, the “why?” questions can’t be answered or given justice that makes any sense. But the “edge of faith” allows us to see from a different angle or point of view—perhaps seeing with “peripheral vision” into the truth that the Holy Spirit reveals. As Jan Richardson’s poem says, “That what can’t be borne in sunlight may still be known in shadow.”  I think this shadow is the vision of faith, akin perhaps to “seeing in the dark” or "looking outside the box." Though the mystery of who God is, remains "in light inaccessible hid from our eyes," vision through faith can illuminate more clearly.

Both Steve and I each have one eye that has lost clarity of central vision. Steve, due to a huge floater right in the center of his eye, and myself, as I wait the repair of a macular hole surgery. We both however, have better peripheral vision.  I resonate with Jan Richardson’s poem and prose above. She is the third person in just three months to proffer that we can see the stars better by looking through our peripheral vision (out of the corner of our eye) than straight at them.

The conundrums of life that bring questions which can’t be answered or fathomed by looking at them straight on or with scientific lenses, may be given light by looking at it from the "periphery" of faith vision. Of the hundreds of people who gathered for Paul’s service and celebrated the mystery of his faith, I doubt that any of us clearly yet understood why he was taken at this time from his family and friends. But we share in whom he believed and we “court our God” with thanksgiving as we know he will reveal enough light in the shadows to allow us to see enough. We ache and yearn to touch God, the skin of Him in person. We rest for now on promises of hope in the unseen, with the mystery we call faith.