Last week, I had the privilege of serving as a spiritual director for Anam Cara’s Celtic Retreat in Daily Life. I met with five beloveds from across the country every day, Monday through Friday, for thirty minute sessions. Each of them courageously shared bits and pieces of their story with a total stranger smiling and listening through a screen.
Our conversations were beautiful. The Spirit of God was faithful. The holiness of it all was too much to take in…Even now, a week later, I still can’t find the words to describe the experience for me as a director.
Words like “flow,” “freedom,” “Thank you,” and “gracious Presence,” are nearly all I can muster…
In the lead-up to the retreat, and throughout the week, I found myself turning to poetry as I tried to process the unnamable that I was experiencing with my sisters and brothers, and within my own soul.
What follows are these poems. Rather than sharing them individually, I want to keep them together. They feel like a whole to me, giving voice to a beginning, middle, and end.
Though these words came out of a personal experience of offering spiritual direction, they are for all who offer presence to others—counselors, teachers, pastors, mothers, fathers, physicians, nurses, chaplains, coaches, etc.
I see you. Your work matters. You matter. You are loved.
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May these hours pass through me
May these hours pass through me
as they would an earthworm,
as nourishment for my delicate form,
as manna for my fellow glories
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Encore
What courage this work takes,
for you to lean in with your meager bread,
and for you to even consider receiving it.
I see the dance, the dips and sway,
the knocked knees, the bows. All of it
leaves me enwrapped within a single word—
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Kid-tired
My soul feels kid-tired,
swimming-in-the-lake-all-day tired,
or, I might say, stuffed to the gills with awe.
I simply cannot soak in another ray.
The stores are full
to overflowing,
and so
I must give it all back so as
to make room for the next harvest,
whenever it may come—
Praise you
for the flame,
for its flickering reminders.
Praise you
for the sacred silence,
undisturbed.
Praise you
for permissions found,
to say yes, to say no,
to say nothing at all.
Praise you
for the ancient stories,
for psalms, and dreams of old,
for your faithful illumination.
Praise you
for imagination,
for its mysterious and holy waters,
for granting us gentle reflections of you
and of ourselves.
Praise you
for heartbeats and voices
and faces like the sun
that are here today and gone tomorrow.
Praise you
for breath,
for light,
for life itself.Which of today’s poems do you find yourself gravitating towards or resonating with this morning? What word or phrase is holding your attention?
In all your listening to and serving others, where are you most in need of being held? Listened to? Served? Take a risk today. Ask for it. From God. From your spouse. A trusted friend. You’re worth being loved just as much as those you pour your love upon.
Return to the poem you’re drawn to this morning. Read it again slowly, listening for God’s invitation to you today. Write it down. Carry it with you. Lean in for your own soul’s sake.
How does today’s image of Valle, the sleeping troll, interact with today’s poems for you? Is there another invitation for you here?
Consider sharing your thoughts, questions, promptings, etc., in the comments below. It’s always so encouraging to hear how a particular poem stirs you.
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