The Heart's Prayer

     I do not want to be told I am a sinner because I failed to meet your expectations. I do not want to be told I am a transgressor because I pushed the bounds of conventionality. I want to know I am a sinner because I have seen the face of God.
     I do not want to see the gates shut to Eden. I do not want to see the burning bush. I do not want to see the Promised Land or Jericho’s fallen walls. I want to know that You alone are God because my heart cannot but kneel.
     I do not want to stand at the manger and think what an unbecoming throne. I do not want to hear Lazarus called forth and fear the dead walking amongst us. I do not want to eavesdrop on Gethsemane’s prayer and hear the sweat fall from his face. I want to know you are the Son of God because I looked through the eyes of the thief.
     I do not fear the hiss that I could be God I fear the venom that tells me I am a sinner. Maybe it’s time to leave Eden behind and forget the gate. Maybe it’s time to remember the garden is where God walked in the cool of the evening and called out to Adam and asked “Where are you?” Yes judgment was passed, there are consequences to actions, but the first question was “where are you?” Perhaps if the answer given had been from the heart and not deceit the story may have been different.

   “Where are you my child that you feel the need to hide? Where are you my child that you fear the very power that created you? Where are you my child that you see only your actions and not your heart?

Where are you my child tell me what has happened. You’ve eaten from the tree of wisdom but to understand you need your heart, my breath. For when I breathed into you, you breathed your life back into me. Where are you my child? You are in me. It is not a kneeling, it is not a cry of belief, and it is not judging eyes you seek. It is your heart, our breath. It is to know you are loved.“ 

      And when my heart rises from the altar within my soul, I smile. To love because you cannot not love is to understand the love of God. And when that path is taken, if I listen closely there is a whisper asking “Beth, how is your heart?”

Liturgy of Being Tamed

“Goodbye,” said the fox. “Here is my secret. It’s quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes. . . . It’s the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important. . . . People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said, “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose. . . .” [The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery]

    I unroll the scroll of my heart with the reverence, sanctity and veneration of a Rabbi opening the Torah’s scrolls. One by one my heart reads their names and bows to their images in my mind, each with their page sewn into my heart. Several have no images, only a name, but their inscription upon the scroll is equally deep. Some are present in my life today. Others have left this life and I await our meeting.
    The characters written upon the page differ in their boldness, grace and size. Written with love, the long strokes of fondness are thick and full. Other characters create names of those who taught my heart to heal. The pigment for the earth, her creatures, beauty, the sun, moon and sky are brilliant in their color and pictures. Whatever the boldness, size or color of the stroke each one has tamed me as I have been tamed.
    The liturgy is repeated each day and night and often when I spy a special star, a bird in flight or the sound of laughter. And as ritual and liturgy evolves over time so has mine. Time, roses and foxes have changed my ritual as I now begin with my own name.

The Bread Broken

     There is no finish line to keep you from running free but even freedom can be a weapon if left to gnaw on itself. You cannot hide either your hope or its freedom. You must share your hope so others can hear, follow and leave their own closets of fear. Leave yourself no other option, cut off all escape routes fearing not the grief or chaos nor clinging to the spring and peace.
     Gratitude will ground and steady you and your innate goodness will keep you safe so keep your foot on the base, your heart. Tis not a wish which can vanish in the night, it is the prayer of love which cancels the debts of the past so that you can walk boldly into the sunrise, every day a new day, a clean piece of paper.
     Remember to tend the source in everything you do so that life becomes a ritual of honor to the giver of the breath. Lose not the feel of the earth underneath your feet so that the mud can remind you that even that which is not perfect or clean can make you squeal with delight if you are accepting.

It is, after all, at the beginning and end of the day, your choice.