Sabbath #12

Today a cloud cover with the sweet thought of rain cooling the swelter. And Divine trust circling. What is illusion? Where does one truly live?  In conversation, in silence? The need for solitude between the creek and the ocean. The rows of corn, stalks drying in the sun. We search for what feeds us, sunlit glades. Give me the gift of a brave and thankful heart.

Sabbath #11

Sunday passed with the sound of  small children playing make believe while their Dad repaired the refrigerator and their Mom was with friends, swimming in a relay race across Lake Tahoe. All ventures ambitious, every one. Today I learned the difference between a snack and a sweet. Any variation on rest only available after dinner, sweets, baths, reading 2-3 story books, brushing teeth, singing Hush little baby and good night kisses. Tomorrow I travel home and  will miss all the busyness and sweet kisses. Miss this hard earned rest that comes from helping for a short time to care for these tender souls who define love for me every minute of every day.

 

Sabbath # 8

It’s strange when the corn grows higher than your own height and you can no longer see the entire field, only the stalks in front of you. And the silk coming from each ear that’s still attached. I’m learning about rest, following my own invitation.  I’m not without teachers: The Eastern Shore, Onancock Creek, my husband. My initiation out of necessity. Intentional. This morning I read: You cannot lose your real treasure. This week I recovered,reclaimed lost belongings adding them to inventory: old glass containers for flour and sugar, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe from the private library of my uncles, Book No. D 1, serving spoons, a green glass pitcher. I’m entering Grace, unknown before this day, the Sabbath.

Sabbath #7

Yesterday Millie dropped off  corn and tomatoes from her fields and those beautiful brown eggs from her chickens. Last night we cooked five ears and sliced one of the ripest tomatoes. And this morning I fried four of those eggs for breakfast, added the sharp cheddar when they were almost done. We ate mostly in silence, the kind that comforts and nourishes. The silence of stillness, savoring a moment. I am practicing receiving, taking in what is offered. Most days I am like the woman who wakes from a dream a bit confused by her location, nothing familiar. Except the marsh which is green just now.

Sabbath #5

Three times I wrote Sabbath. Three times I spelled the word. Three times I heard the word echo in the empty room.This morning I read, poor in spirit. My body exhausted from measuring trust; the lack of. What does it mean to move toward light behind shadow? My husband cooked the bacon crisp. I sliced the summer peaches and added blueberries to the bowl. Brewed coffee and tea. Added cream. Opened the blinds.