On Christmas Eve, I was alone in Christ Church Cathedral in New Orleans. Not alone in the sense that no one was there, but alone without my family in a strange church. My daughter and her husband were home with their new baby. My husband, his mother, and our other daughters’ families were celebrating together in New Iberia. But my soul wanted to be in church. Somehow my Episcopalianism made me feel drawn to the church on Christmas Eve. I admit, it was weird and lonely, and I hid well my tears inside. The music was familiar and kept me grounded. The priest was a woman whom I knew from my home church in Jackson, MS. This was her first Christmas Eve service as a Bishop of the Diocese of Louisiana. This is my story.
I urge you to find your story of sanctuary. Where were you on Christmas Eve? Do you worship? Do you have a special place to find the Holy Spirit? I understand for some the church is not a safe place. Explore your own thoughts today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Be sure to encourage other writers for whomever they are, whatever they offer.
Consecrated
by human hands
open to wandering souls
most sacred, most holy
this alcove where prayers are hummed, flowing
from tearful, humble hearts
a refuge protected from prey
immunity offered
to evil suffered
a home, a hug, a harbor…sanctuary.
The form I used today is a definito created by my friend and fellow poet, Heidi Mordhorst:”the definito is a free verse poem of 8-12 lines (aimed at readers 8-12 years old) that highlights wordplay as it demonstrates the meaning of a less common word, which always ends the poem.“
Your definito *feels* safe and harborsome, Margaret. I love the echoes in hum and humble, offered and suffered.
“A home, a hug, a harbor…”: Margaret, you have captured the calm and solace of “sanctuary” so beautiful and completely. I felt I was there as I read your poem. Although I have been in many churches as a visitor, and I have found and treasure community in an indoor setting, my own experience of ‘sanctuary’ throughout my life has been the sanctuary nature has offered.
You are my true place of worship, Earth
I am held by your endless borders,
a dot in an open prairie
a speck beneath immense formations—
rocks that speak of solace and stories
I the live and the dead of you,
littered exquisitely in forests and fields
mountains and gullies
wordless prayers created
unspoken understanding
of being nothing and everything
a tiny piece of the gift you’ve given.
Draft, Carol Coven Grannick
My poem mirrors yours, although I chose one tiny spot instead of all of Earth (though I could have!). I love “littered exquisitely in forests and fields
mountains and gullies” and my favorite landscape in all the world is the open prairie, where I am indeed “a dot.”
I’m excited to share with my students all the different forms you all used in your responses. This praise poem (or poem of direct address), your word choices stand out to me “exquisitely, unspoken, gift…” We are a speck, a dot, yet as poets we can notice and praise.
Thank you so much, Margaret, for having such an inviting and stimulating, lovely place to respond and share. (and I just noticed I left a word out of my poem—I think I meant, “I love the live and the dead of you”.)
Your poem glows with the wonder and vastness of Earth and our place in it. Thank you.
Oh, Rose—that means so much to me! Thank you!
What a beautiful tribute to our planet, Carol, and would be perfect for Earth Day.
My sanctuary
Painting of earth and sky
Rays of light shining through a cloudy day
The role of the wave over my feet
Songs of birds in the morning
A room without walls filled with beautiful words
Worthy righteous and free
Joyous sounds of choirs singing
Chimes of wind and leaves
The laughter of a child on the summer’s day
Hopeful peaceful and calm
Joyous celebrations of all life
the role of hills over field and forest
the pronouncing deer and fox
The quiet calm and joy of my cat chasing her tail
splashes of colored paint on a canvas
the word love written on my heart
Moments spent with those I love and admire
quiet moments spent in nature
praying to the one who has created us all
No steepled building but the smiling face of a stranger
I love this list poem, Jessica! So many kinds of sanctuary are available to us, both inside and outside the walls of a church.
Lovely list. Thanks for sharing, Jessica.
So beautiful, Jessica! I love the large and small wonders you describe.
Jessica, my student Avalyn was inspired to use your list poem form to write her own sanctuary poem:
My Sanctuary
Mrs. Simon’s classroom*
The cold morning gaze
Beautiful sunshine
The slight summer breeze
And all and beyond the seven seas.
by Avalyn, 3rd grade
I fell very hornerd she is a veary goog poet 🙂
This is a catalog of awe, Jessica! I especially like “A room without walls filled with beautiful words” and the last line
Jessica, there are so many parts in your list poem that speak to me of the beauty of both church and nature. Your last line sums it up, that smiling face of a stranger. The church is the people, not the building I have heard many times, but I also love the glorious work done so long ago to create testaments to God’s power and love. And to Avalyn, whom you inspired, who knows the sanctuary in a teacher’s room filled with so much to gaze upon, a beautiful gift of a poem.
I love your definito, Margaret! Here’s a nonet:
Where
I find
peace, respite,
sanctuary
needs no roof or walls.
Tiny urban wetland
locked in ice, now brown, waiting
for return of red-winged blackbirds
and green and bees and the pulse of spring.
Yes, Mary Lee—we are definitely in sync! I love that your imagery is winter-focused and waiting for “the pulse of spring.” Especially during covid, because I have such a need to be outdoors even in the coldest weather, I have learned to love nature’s winter in ways I never imagined.
I love how your nonet takes us to a place of peace and hope.
“the pulse of spring” – yes!
Well-done nonet, Mary Lee. Love “pulse of spring” and the progression toward hope.
Ah a nonet so poignant in its call to recognize the respite in the sanctuary of nature. Love “the pulse of spring” and “sanctuary needs no roof or walls”, though I must say I have always loved the gifts of gorgeous stained glass windows, an art to light our lives indoors, but we need not forget the glory of what is outdoors for us to love. Thanks, Mary Lee.
I especially love your last line, Margaret. Thank you for this. It brought me back to my Catholic upbringing and my wonder in the stained glass windows. Although I loved the stories they told, I appreciated more how they made me feel no matter what I needed at the time.
Sanctuary
light streams
through a rainbow of glass
bestowing joy
acknowledging sorrow
promising peace
offering hope
The light streaming through a “rainbow of glass” is an image I’ve been moved by so many times…and I love that you give it power to bestow, acknowledge, promise, and offer! My last memory of this was just before covid when we had the opportunity to visit Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. I was swept away with just the emotions you describe!
Thank you, Carol!
I love your verbs!
Thanks, Mary Lee!
“A rainbow of glass” is such an apt description, Rose!
Love this! So heartfelt. Friends are certainly our sanctuaries.
Thank you!
All your poems are beautiful. I love the word sanctuary because it is more than a church. Your images in nature are definitely sanctuaries. Here is a 4×4 of my Christmas eve.
Interrupt unhappiness
in the moment
when spirit breathes
interrupt your
unhappiness
pay attention
in the moment
when a weary
hand reaches out
when spirit calls
out, here, do this
in the moment
participate
extend your hand
fall on your knees
sing holy night
in the moment
The repetition of “in the moment” reminds me to be present in each moment. See the holiness. Your poem reads like a prayer.
Thank you. It did feel spiritual to me.
A powerful poem, Sandie, and reminder that there’s so much more than one’s unhappiness. Hope and joy await “in the moment.”
Thank you for your kind remarks.
Paying attention and being in the moment – I agree, it fells like a prayer.
Thank you.
Sandy, this is so beautiful—the intense and yet gentle insistence on paying attention “in the moment” “when spirit breathes” feels so authentic and present.
Thanks, Carol. I appreciate your words.
Margaret, a beautiful photo and poem. I especially like “where prayers are hummed.”
Coffee with a friend
She pours cream into hers
I pour out my heart
She is my sanctuary
Oh, Jane! this took my breath away…
This is exactly what friends are for… a sanctuary.
Ah, Jane, the power of friendship so beautifully captured here in your small poem. The sanctuary we are gifted over and over again by our friends, our god and the places we are able to love. Mine is long, but I have been trying to capture what happened this year. It needs revision but I wanted to share that essence. So glad to find yours here, even in my lateness!
Thank you, Carol, Sandie, and Janet
[…] This past week Margaret shared a stunning photo from Christ Church Cathedral in New Orleans, taken on Christmas Eve. The beautiful stained glass windows immediately brought back memories from my childhood — observing how the light made rainbows, learning the stories of the saints and the scenes portrayed, and feeling the comfort of my faith. For just a few minutes, I was once again a school girl, kneeling in wonder. […]
I am very late but was moved by this, Margaret and have been trying to write about the gloriousness of this special service and moment this year. The photo is gorgeous. My church in Penn. is modern but wonderful. (No stained glass windows there.) I attend one at home, but am a member there. Thank you.
Inside the Heart
On Christmas Eve I went at 2 o’clock with
my grandchildren, she six, he four.
The service, not typical, but
mesmerizing; Worship time in song,
church children singing in costume
telling of His birth. Then pastor’s talk.
The story of his childhood Christmas Eves with dad,
shopping all morning for his mom’s gifts.
So many, chosen carefully, to show
his dad’s love and sacrifice, the overtime hours
worked to provide this wondrous thank-you.
Each one wrapped to perfection
at the department store in town,
opened by mom with joy, “oh how did you know
this was exactly what I wanted?”
The message received by young ears:
remember the love in the giving, the sacrifice,
the care. When opening gifts the next morning
the children, declared, “oh look, clothes!”
or “oh, great, dinosaur blocks I can color!”
or “oh how I wanted a new coloring book!”
Time in God’s house, their hands on mine
as I held our lighted candle, we sang.
“sleep in Heavenly peace.”
Our hearts full of the promise
given us so long ago.
Janet Fagal, draft 2023
Could you even sing without crying in such a beautiful setting with the people you love?
Thank you for your beautiful comment. And yes, I was so moved with holding the lit candle with their hands on mine even if only for a few seconds. (They had a really nice plastic candle holder, so it felt safe.) Now on to Sanctuary. So beautifully explained. I know the peace of such spaces. To go and sit and pray, think, wonder, reflect on our lives and our hopes. There is so much holy when we are in places designated for our hearts and souls. I love the old (think European) cathedral spaces, the church of my youth and its two gorgeous windows and all others I have visited. Your poem explains it all. (The definition is a bit more specific than the one I had seen before, so thanks for that. I really like the definito form that Heidi created!)
What Margaret said. I am teary just reading this–a beautifully told lesson connecting the human and divine.