This poem emerged from a night when I was sleeping peacefully and then awakened at 3:00 am to a prayer running through my mind. It didn’t stop. I felt peaceful, but the prayer was insistent enough I finally rolled out of bed and took up a pen and a pad of paper to allow my soul’s yearning to spill onto the page until it was spent. Don’t give me that old-time religion. I’m not longing for the past. I don’t want what used to be, or who used to be. I want you, God. New. Fresh. Now. Here. As a deer pants for the water My soul longs for you. I want your ineffable presence. I yearn for the embrace of spirit. I crave the resonance of being known. I want the bloom of a daffodil, Not the regularity of brickwork. I want the lift of heart that comes When human ego recedes And my spirit is wrapped in the love of God. I want the feeling of union that comes When community pulls together after disaster. I thirst for spirit’s intrusion Unexpectedly Arising in the midst of mundane. The shaft of light through clouds And not the territorial bickering of committee meetings. I want You. And I know You are present In the heartbeat of every person who bickers. You Pour out into the selfish and sublime An equal opportunity employer When the greediness for getting the credit Or being right Is overcome by Poetry Rush of water over stones The hush of a forest glade The clasp of hands bloodied by a battle. I long for the soar of my heart Thrumming with a gospel choir, Without finger pointing, Condemnation, cold shoulders, Committee cliques, Denominational wars. I want The pulse of community Justice rolling down like waters Love lifting me Righteous longing satisfied Grace flowering The burst of love in the midst of suffering. Not explanation. Not reasoning. Reasoning does not fill the holes in my heart Church members being appropriate Are no substitute for the Holy Spirit. I know The swell of inspiration throbs In the hearts of liberals and conservatives Even when they don’t hear each other. It waits In the lectionary And in the wild burst of heart When a stranger runs into a fire To pull a child to safety Without rehearsal or reasoning. God, I miss you. And You miss me too When I invest in Seeking approval from the committee In the church or in my head Instead of breathing You in. Oh, Israel, you said. I would have gathered you to me As a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you were not willing. Break open our armored hearts To expose our willingness. Open the channels of justice That have been choked with arguments for What we’re accustomed to, What won’t cause a fuss, What stays within the budget. We need a fresh experience of You Out of bounds Rogue Like Your spirit. Revive us again. With a flash of lightning With a baby’s laughter With the purr of a kitten With a squeeze of a hand. Interrupt our order of worship With a shower of stars The embrace we’ve longed for Or the welling of tears. Override our structures And be with us in our midst. Abide with us. We long for you. Show up, God. Take the log out of our eyes While we strain at splinters. You know how we are, Clasping our lists of rules, And you love us anyway. Help us to feel You In disappointment In grief In despair In fear. Give us joy Give us hope Give us laughter Give us rest. Give us You.

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Paradoxblog

I'm a writer, and a retired psychotherapist, trying to get honest with myself, day to day. I've had a long-standing aversion to vulnerability, and so am setting myself the challenge of opening up here, in a way that may get a little chancy. There also might be times I pull in the drawbridge and curl up inside the fortress. I am paradoxsicle. Yes, I know how it's really spelled. The life I enacted for most of six decades or so turns out to have included a few self-serving delusions (there's a slight possibility you and I might have that in common, but perhaps not.) I'm trying to sort those, to see what works. The inventory can alternately prompt me to conceit or embarrassment. Sometimes simultaneously. I'm in recovery from a collection of ill-gotten defensive reactions to life which have tripped me up over the years. Perhaps it's time to lay them on the table. This might get a little messy! Meanwhile, I live in the desert southwest, although sometimes I long for the smell of the ocean, or the sound of the wind in tall pines. I am grateful for a secure home, dear friends, and love abounding. I hope to one day introduce you to the characters in a novel I’m writing, so you can fall in love with some of them as I have, and perhaps loathe a few of the others. I have two cats, two beautiful daughters, two hunky sons-in-law, and four extraordinarily gifted grandchildren, who just might have inherited a bit of their smarts from me. Or maybe it's a coincidence. Thanks for joining me!

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