Chalet LAbri , April 1, 2002
has always been one of my favorite poets. Yesterday I found his prayer poem speaking
Teach me, Father, how to go - Softly as the grasses grow; Hush my soul to meet the shock Of the wild world as
a rock; But my spirit, propt with power, Make as simple as a flower. Let the dry heart fill its cup, Like a poppy looking
up; Let life lightly wear her crown, Like a poppy looking down, When its heart is filled with dew And its life begins anew.
The daffodils I buried in the hard earth last November are blooming this April morning.
I planted new grass on my front lawn early this spring and tender shoots now emerge in resurrection time. I read the news of Palestine this morning, reminding me that, yes, my soul does need to be hushed from
the shock of the world at war. And grieving for friends in pain and others searching
for answers, I identify with Markham. But praying with him, my soul rejoices,
knowing that I go to the proper Source to have my spirits lifted. Today,
I want to be a poppy looking up!
Spring seems to be stealing in ever so softly this year. Intermittent
balmy days followed by frigid nights have caused the trees to leaf with great hesitancy.
Also, despite some welcome showers, our hills remain thirsty for a proper rainfall. Today, bright sunshine glistens
after yesterdays rain. And on the horizon just nine miles distant, the glorious
Blue Ridge, lifting my soul; I will look unto the hills, from whence cometh my
I have been reading Alan Patons classic novel Cry, The Beloved Country.
Set in apartheid South Africa, this story of a father in search of his lost son is a parable of love like unto
the one Jesus told about the prodigal son. Passages from the book remind
us that we can go only to the Bible in search of answers to all the great mysteries explained nowhere else:
Who indeed knows the secret of the earthly pilgrimage? Who indeed
knows why there can be comfort in a world of desolation? Now God be thanked that
there is a beloved one who can lift up the heart in suffering, that one can play with a child in the face of such misery.Who
knows for what we live, and struggle, and die? Who knows what keeps us living
and struggling, while all things break about us? Wise men write many books,
in words too hard to understand. But this, the purpose of our lives, the end
of our struggle, is beyond all human wisdom. Oh God, my God, do not Thou forsake
me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear
no evil, if Thou art with me.
From an anthology in my library,
these words of wisdom to live by:
To live content with
small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion;
to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think
quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to the stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never;
in a word to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. William Henry Channing