Thursday, November 9, 2017

ode to her highness...

Before raking more leaves, one of the ordinary physical prayers the Holy offers to those who live in this region each fall, I took the time to catch up on emails and engage the next lesson in the on-line November retreat. The practice today was to write a poem honoring one of our saints.  They might come from the land of the two-legged, the forest, the sea or, in my case, from the animal realm. As expected, I selected Lucie, who has become companion, mentor, challenge and spiritual director par excellence for me over the past three years.

You drive me crazy - and fill me with joy.
You expose my wounds - and help me practice acceptance
        (of you AND myself)
You are klutzy and brash - all subtitles of life abandoned
As without reservation, you revel in everything that carries life.
You have become a spiritual director to me:
You refuse to let me off the hook when you flip out and become
You make ME slow down and pay attention - first to you -
        then to myself - 
        and finally to the world we're walking through together.
You slather me with affection every morning
        as if this were the dawn of creation.
You snuggle your massive bulk onto my lap every evening
      and invite me to cherish your goofy essence.
You leave your hair everywhere - and invite me to clean the house yet          again - and again - and again.
And you park yourself on my pillow when I am away
      so that I will know of your presence forever.

The arctic cold will make an appearance here later this weekend. There may be a bit of snow, too. A glorious frost glistened on the grass in the back yard this morning and I could feel the earth shift. So now I'm off to revel in the leaves before life changes yet again.  Thank you, Ms. Lucie.

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