Faith, Family, & Focaccia

A faith and culture Mommy blog, because real life gets all mixed together like that.


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Spinning


Recently life has been more than a bit frantic. Working, parenting, housekeeping, wifeing… it has all been pilling up and pulling me round until I am wondering whether dizziness is just my perpetual reality.

And so, as an attempted remedy, I spent some time this morning in grounding prayer. Prayer in the  sense not of speaking, but of listening. Of sitting in silence for the still small voice to speak to me.

And today, that voice spoke to my soul in lines of poetry.


Spinning

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Like a child’s spinning top

I launch myself at frantic speed

seeking the velocity

to let me balance on a tiny point of contact.

 

But

in my enthusiasm,

or anxiety,

I push too hard.

No elegant display of spinning speed,

no ballerina poised on point am I.

I am the wobbling, panicked top about to 

CRASH

 

And

in my panic I reach out,

reach down,

my hand and heart both grasping for the solid ground,

for grounding, 

for a source of steadiness outside myself. 

 

There

in that contact 

I remember:

that I am spinning on a world that spins as well,

and the Master Spinner does not need my feeble speed

To make the world go round.

I can rest here,

and know

I’m spinning still in glorious mystery.


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Be With: Day 29 of the April Poetry Challenge

No introduction today. Sometimes the soul can only speak in poetry.


 

 

Be With

 

“I just want to be with you.”

my child’s plea

so sweet,

so simple.

a stutter trying to interrupt the fast-revolving wheel

my spinning presence

in no moment standing still.

It feels unnatural to stop

with no objective

no self-validating task.

to only be

be with.

And later, open journal in my lap,

I grope for prayer,

for words to wake a passion in my soul,

to feel connection to a God I’ve walked with for so long

but feels tonight so far away.

Then, as my pen spills ink across a page

of spinning words, I feel an urge

a child’s longing

simple words that spell themselves

into my prayer.

I just want to be with you for a while

be with.

An image that my daughter loves

presents itself to eyes closed more in weariness than prayer.

The sister who sat at her master’s feet*

eschewing spinning,

whirling,

soul-consuming tasks

to sit and learn.

“She chose the better part.”

Rebuke refused, and welcome given her instead,

the disciple who knew how to be

be with.

I want to be that eager girl

whose eagerness leads not to movement, but to peace

to patient sitting,

waiting,

listening,

knowing I will

find all that I seek

and even more

if I can simply learn to be

be with.

 

* The sisters referenced are Mary and Martha, whose story is told in Luke 10:38-42.