Good Shepherd Sunday

On Sheep- Sheep are helpless. Their only defense is to run faster than their brothers, sister, offspring. Sheep cannot protect themselves. Despite that, and with no effort beyond how it was created, sheep give of themselves to an even more helpless being; Man- a being who is incapable of producing anything usable of itself. Sheep clothe and feed man, though effort is needed to create the result. The raw materials are replenished and repeated until mankind can perfect the gifts given by helpless sheep. We as Christians are like sheep. We have a renewable resource to offer the even more helpless through our faith and generosity- to feed and clothe those who cannot produce of themselves. The herd must move, must change. It can not stay in the same place or it will destroy that which feeds it. It will befoul the water. The flock will die if does not continue to seek out a way to healthy lands. The shepherd see the flock's destination through forethought, experience, and intellect. The flock is unable to see as far as the shepherd. A shepherd cannot hope to accomplish this task alone. Dogs of similar size and shape guide the sheep. They can not be expected to give exact directions. They can not anticipate every gopher hole, hidden cliffs. Sheep dogs suggest, they encourage a direction for the flock. The dogs protect the flock, standing between them and danger defending because it knows the sheep are indeed vulnerable. When the shepherd is unavailable, he trusts his dogs to do their job in his place. The Shepherd has faith the sheep will be kept safe until his return.

fire in the sky

Every day on my work breaks, I go for a walk to look at things far away, esp the clouds. They have been very white and remind me of charcoal drawings the way they feather out. They are usually a blank slate to stretched cotton. Every day this week, I have seen the form of a phoenix in the skies.
We hear what we want to hear, but we see what we need to see. Phoenix is fire. Phoenix re starts, redoes, or begins to continue.
Which pile of ashes am I to sweep up and drink the tea of? I am eager, even impatient to know. I can start feeling like I am living my own life again. I was a fulfilling and powerful, grown up feeling when I had it in the past. Fire does not wait well.

Dirt - week 3

Relaxation for me does not involve being still. Relaxation comes from the satisfaction of a hard day's work. I'm not meant to sit still. Ideas come to me when I mow the lawn. I find clarity in stacking the woodpile. Sweat and peace are equals. Quiet mediation comes to me only after the hard climb up a waterfall. After patching the roof, digging in the yard, cleaning the garage, I am sticky, stinky, and filthy. Then I shower. The water sloughs off heavy thoughts that are now on the surface of my dirty skin. It leaves behind comfort and pride. I watch the darkness of the water swirl in the tub and down the drain. It feels like victory. I feel like I have endured something and come out a better person on the other side. I have proven my strength to myself and then blessed myself- rain to wash me clean. Dirt on the outside is not the problem. Its the stuff on the inside.
I cry to wash it out. It's not enough. Give me tools, a goal, and the time alone to finish it.
I have earned my rest. My mind is clean of it's sown dirt. And I can be who I know I am.
Sweat, and dirt are my path to beauty.