In illness, I stand on the doorstep and knock: 

At first timid, mouselike taps—“I don’t want to bother you, but . . .”

Then firm, respectful raps: “I’m here, waiting.”

Then earnest, tear-filled whacks echoing my pelting heart: “Please, please, please!”

Then fists flying against stern wood: “You will let me in. You will!”

Unshaken, unshakeable, the door stands. 

Dust blows across my feet, settling with an eternal sigh. Terrified, impotent, I shake it off, then rub my sore and swollen hands—it’s a small relief, almost nothing. 

I am, and always have been ill. 
I am, and always have stood on this threshold. 
This is it. This is all. 

My breathing deepens and is lost on the wind. My heart slows to the beat of the earth. Dust blows over my feet, settling with a sigh. I let it be.

I stand in the always 

and am.

Down the street a door cracks open. 
Wind dances the dust off my feet. 
My heart restarts in a new rhythm and I take a newborn breath. 

A face, smiling, appears in the open door and, on virile feet, 
I race. Smiling all the way. 

In honor of Mother's Day -- and for everyone who nurtures life and love in all its forms -- here is wisdom from Jenny Baker.

David was a shepherd. Psalm 23 is his realisation that just as he cares for his sheep, so God cares for him, but in a much more perfect way. These weren’t just words on a page to David, but experiences that would have held a deep resonance for him because that's what he had done for his sheep. There’s also a sense of him letting go of his responsibilities and letting God carry them, allowing himself to be loved just as he loves. I wondered ‘Which of the roles that I have in life does God fulfil for me, but much better?’ and rewrote the psalm about being a mother.

Psalm 23 Rewritten

The Lord is my mother; I shall not be in want.

She makes me lie down in fresh clean sheets and tucks me in and kisses me goodnight, and while I sleep she sorts everything out, ready for the morning. She makes me cups of tea and ginger cake when I get home from school, and shepherd’s pie for supper with plenty of fresh vegetables.

She leads me away from the TV to the kitchen table ?where we have space to talk without interruptions. She listens to even the smallest of my worries and helps me get things in perspective. She restores my soul.

She guides me through the mysteries of how to be a righteous woman, for her name’s sake.

Even though I walk past the bus stop where the big boys threaten me and the bitchy girls laugh at me, I will fear no evil for you are with me. Your strength beside me and your hand in mine, they comfort and sustain me.

You prepare Sunday lunch for me in the presence of my enemies, to remind me that I’ll always have a place to belong.

You have every confidence in me and my future; you are my champion and my biggest fan.

My life overflows with the love you have given me from my very first breath to my first grey hair and beyond.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Jenny Baker is just ending a season as interim director of Greenbelt Festival, and is a co-founder of the Sophia Network

Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray

In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.

Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,

And listen to the music, faint and sweet,

That echoes ever to a listening ear,

Unheard by those who will not pause to hear

The wayward chimes of memory’s pensive bells,

Wind-blown o’er misty hills and curtained dells.

One step aside and dewy buds unclose

The sweetness of the violet and the rose;

Song and romance still linger in the green,

Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,

And near at hand, would you but see them, lie

All lovely things beloved in days gone by.

You have forgotten what it is to smile

In your too busy life come, rest awhile.

--Lucy Maud Montgomery

I will keep faith -- in God, in God's faith in me, and in all companions whom God has given me to help see the world as God sees it -- so that together we may find a way to realize the divine vision.  If some of us do not yet know who we are going to be tomorrow, then it is enough for us to give thanks for today while we treat each other as well as we know how.

-- Barbara Brown Taylor, American Episcopal priest, professor and theologian

Love never gives up.

Love cares more for others than for self.

Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.

Love doesn't strut,

Doesn't have a swelled head,

Doesn't force itself on others,

Isn't always "me first,"

Doesn't fly off the handle,

Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn't revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

1 Corinthians 13:7 (The Message)

I treasure the words written here. I have always been drawn to them because I suppose they are true, and yet they are difficult to believe some days. This quote was framed as a gift to my mother. I think of my mom who has been reminding me since I was young that I am a beloved child of God. So, this is my reminder to YOU...

Laity Lodge, Texas by Carl McLendon

Cicada  

by Kristine Nesbitt

I shed the skin
that was never mine
and I shed it again
and again
and again
empty dry shells
of the not me
scattered
mind-tumbling wind
whipping up
crazy-making devils
ready now for the
fresh
green
Truth
shed another skin
and laugh

...and here is a video

Rest  

by Kristine Nesbitt

Rain falling gently on the roof now 
draws me to the window. 
The budding tree in my front yard 
is drinking raindrops. 
A dove pecks at the food 
I have put out in the feeder. 
The sky, the tree, the dove; 
none of them are struggling or suffering.  

Heaven or Hell  

by Kristine Nesbitt

Will I choose to die today?
and if so
where will I choose to go?