Scattered technologies scattered around the house. Machines magnificent and micro that are made to make our life easier maximize the confusion. MP3s, notebook computers, cell phones. All interactive, all inter-related. All over the house. Speakers, CDs, DVDs, players, widescreens, audio visual assault on sensibilities. Imagination overloads with multiple downloads. Electronic souls. Glutted. Spirits drained.
Let us refuel. Where can we find energy, interaction, connection, comprehension? Spiritual food found by generations. Hope recharged. Words for life. Bible speaks God’s talk beyond our ears and to our hearts. Pages never felt so good. Meditation deletes the clutter, quiets the noise. Spirit speaks to spirit. How comforting the name that time can’t contain: I AM. Remind me. I am here. Not alone, but I am in Him.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Conquering
The Steelers' game plays on the radio. From my spot on the bed I can hear whistles, cheers, the announcers' energized chatter. It's a comeback from behind game in the NFL playoffs. My son stands over his dad's shoulder listening, asking questions, working out the plays in his mind.
My husband calls his brother Dan. Miles away they are together. Interest blending with interest. Their voices meet through wires, across plains. Dan is there too, watching the game, hearing the same whistles.
They are of generations of men, connecting in the battle. Engaged in conquering.
My husband calls his brother Dan. Miles away they are together. Interest blending with interest. Their voices meet through wires, across plains. Dan is there too, watching the game, hearing the same whistles.
They are of generations of men, connecting in the battle. Engaged in conquering.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Souvenir
Water beads on her downy skin as the bath water steams around us. She is aware of every motion, every sensation, her gray eyes widened, her head turning quickly left and then right, and left again. She is learning, sensory input informing her, laying tracks in her memory banks.
And I watch, noticing the slightest movement, expression, sound. It is for me an imprint, a memory as well that will serve to remind me who she was, who I was.
I hold her, a souvenir in time.
And I watch, noticing the slightest movement, expression, sound. It is for me an imprint, a memory as well that will serve to remind me who she was, who I was.
I hold her, a souvenir in time.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Turning Over
A New Year's dedication to bloggers:
Calendars changing.
A new year dawns.
We turn over a new leaf.
What patterns will we find there?
Holding our heads and hands steady,
We prepare to write new pages.
Calendars changing.
A new year dawns.
We turn over a new leaf.
What patterns will we find there?
Holding our heads and hands steady,
We prepare to write new pages.
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