A poem shared by Mary Humphries: 

Questions to Ask When Waking*       BY BERNADETTE  MILLER

What would you do if you really knew
that life was wanting to sing through you?

What would you say if your words could convey
prayers that the world was waiting to pray?

What would you be if your being could free
some piece of the world’s un-whispered beauty?

What would you stop to bless and caress
if you believed that blessing could address
our painful illusions of brokenness?

What would you harvest from heartache and pain
if you understood loss as a way to regain
the never-forsaken terrain of belonging?

What would you love if your love could ignite
a sea full of stars on the darkest night?                                                                                                                                                      *–From the Network of Grateful Living April 5, 2021
                                
GOOD FRIDAY

I used to love roller coasters ~
arms raised

wind in my face
screaming and laughing
a day at the fun park

 

I trusted the design
the maintenance crew
the seat belt

I thrilled at the anticipation
the click, click, click
the yes, yes, yes
that pulled me to the top
a hasty view
on that reassuring pause
before the plunge

the exhilaration
the sheer joy
to do it all again
over and over and over

and now I trust
the doctors
who design treatments
as I hope, hope, hope

climb, climb, climb
to a brief plateau
a fragile homeostasis
to celebrate
yes, yes, yes
before the plunge
—Mary Heumphreus

April 1, 2021
APRIL BIRTHDAYS tba



MARCH BIRTHDAYS!

NOAH HAS ARRIVED
JERRY YOSHITOMI
CATHERINE SPURGER
SISTER MARIA INEZ

Lent: 

PRAYER
CHRIST HAS NO BODY NOW BUT YOURS
By St. Teresa of Avila
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands but yours,
No feet but yours.
 
Yours are the eyes through which
Christ’s compassion must look out at the world.
 
Yours are the feet with which
He is to go about doing good.
 
Yours are the hands with which
He is to bless us now.
Amen.

****************************************************************************

May all that is unforgiven in you
Be released.

May your fears yield
Their deepest tranquilities.

May all that is unlived in you
Blossom into a future
Graced with love.    (John O’Donohue)

 *********************************************************

Not Just Any Sunday Morning
mmm

Tim and Elaine are cooking bacon

I can smell it two backyards away

I put our cushions on the patio

promising space for tea and poetry

 

I remember feeling this innocent

safe and content

an ordinary November twenty-second

1963

 a single bullet

 our world tilted on its axis

spun us like blindfolded children

when we stopped reeling

we faced another direction

dizzy disoriented

 we removed the blindfold

our innocence

our orientation and direction

forever changed

 the morning wakens around me

I no longer smell bacon

 Mary Heumphreus

November 22, 2020