Psalm 27: Triumphant Song of Confidence; Luke 13:31-35: The Lament over Jerusalem
I wish I could cultivate my daysLike my mother’s favorite recipe,Blending together the sweetest things—Hope and love, you and me,Justice and peace,Music and dreams—Like spices pulled from the shelf on thewall.I’d add one cup of family,And one cup of grace.A dash of starry nights,A pinch of snow.One tablespoon of hope, and like oats,they would grow.A tablespoon of music and the hymnsthat I know.A cup for friends that feel more likefamily,A teaspoon of vanilla, for life’s sheerbeauty.Three teaspoons of summer, and onetablespoon of dreams.Plus half a cup for the church that raisedme,And half a cup for the moon thatserenades me.The instructions would read:Melt your love and whisk with justice untilit expands beyond the pan.Gently stir in all that you hope for. Cover,and let rise.Drizzle with a sweet glaze of mercy.Please be sure to leave heartache andgrief tucked on the shelfBeside comparison, doubt, fear, anddepression.Busyness will make this dish sour,As will grudges and gossip, which is not tomentionTrauma and loss, or my fragile bones.So use only the best ingredientsWhen you cultivate your life.For like your mother’s favorite recipe,These days are sacred.
-SEEKING PRESENCE CULTIVATE