About Me

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I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. In the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

But I will Tend You: a Prayer for Thanksgiving

In the beginning -
the beginning of beginnings.
when there was mostly
just dark, and light
and a little bit of chaos
to sweeten the pot,
God nodded in approval.
"This is good,
but not enough."
So then there was water,
and heaven and earth.
There was an above,
and a below,
and a somewhere in between,
where God's breath hung
water to the fertile ground

To the earth, I say  thank you
for the abundance
of your gifts.
There is grace in
the wheat that dances,
and bounty.
I cannot own you,
but I will tend you
with care.

To the heavens I say thank you
for your glory.
There is such wonder in
the play of stars
and light. For you,
I reach; in you
I find.
I cannot own you,
but I will tend you
with care.

To the water I say thank you
for your lithesome
liquid beauty.
There is power
in your ceaseless
surge and release.
I cannot own you
but I will tend you
with care.

To God I say thank you
for bringing us here
to this season of joy.
We cannot own
Your bounty,
but we will tend it all
with care,
so that we may come again
to say thanks
for this season
of joy.