My puppy has discovered butterflies.
He does not know their name,
or why the flutter –
tantalizing –
just out of reach.
He only see white gossamer wings
as they float and dart.
He only knows
that he is captivated by their flight.
And so,
although they’re always just ahead
or flitting up too high,
he leaps and bounds in his pursuit
delighted by the joy of seeking
whether or not he ever captures
what he seeks.
The breath of heaven touches my face,
calling me into this moment.
I am here.
The list of tasks
The urgency of productivity
The pull to do, to make, to move, to give each ounce of my energy and every second of my time.
They are here too.
But so are You.
Source of all doing, and making, and moving.
Giver of self, and love, and life.
You are your entire self in this silent moment.
And with the touch of Your breath on my face,
fluttering in my hair,
stroking my skin into sudden awareness of this particular moment,
You call me back to the truth:
Life is not the doing, or making, or moving, or even giving.
Life is being present, and knowing you are too.
Faith, Family, & Focaccia 