Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Hope Rising


For some odd reason,
she didn't see the sign
on the side of the church
rising up above Highway 62,
the "Crosstown," until
twenty-five minutes into
her flat-tire induced
meditation vigil with
rush-hour traffic nearly
clipping her car on more
than one occasion. She
hadn't set foot in a church
in months, yet, on the side
of the road, she kept
chanting . . .

God around me,
God under me,
God over me,
God inside me.

She had picked this up
five or so years earlier,
attending a few of the
Celtic Contemplative
Services at
Pilgrim Lutheran Church.
You never know what
will rise up inside of you
in a crisis (or perceived

If she makes it out
alive, she resolves
to learn more chants,
Buddhist or from early
Celtic Christianity,
it doesn't really matter.
She will memorize
inspiring works of
verse, poetry, biblical
(it does not really matter),
so that the verses become
a part of her inner make-up,
her internal voice.
She will embrace hope,
in whatever form
presented because, on
this night, she was given
over to hope. And that
made all the difference.

No comments:

Post a Comment