Ramona Behnke is hosting the Spiritual Journey Thursday posts today at her blog, Pleasures from the Page. She asked us to write about “A Glad Heart.”
Open-hearted gladness comes after illness, where once was a window– blinds pulled up enough to see the white egret fly over water, stand and dip, stand and dip. A morning dance, or mourning dance for me, listless and weak? Strength in wings of white, angel of life or death.
Gladness through the window entered my prayer, beckoning me to fight for life, for flight. To look to the air through my despair finding the light of gratitude.
Patricia sent the Spiritual Journey bloggers (all are welcome) her topic for September: “Life at the speed of grace.” This topic is fitting for me as I have been forced to slow down to a full stop because of illness. I have moved beyond why and into acceptance. Each day in September I am posting a photo on Instagram of #Septemberbeauty.
I’ve never thought of September as a beautiful month. It’s still hot. The school year is usually moving along quickly after Labor Day. But when I stop, when I look, notice nature and my immediate surroundings, I can see beauty.
Hummingbirds come in September. Since I’m home, I can sit for a while and watch them frolic. Yesterday, the male and female at my feeder mated right before my eyes. It was like a hummingbird tornado, how they twirled in a fury dance. Then flew off in separate ways.
Patricia wrote a small poem here. I’m borrowing a line to do a quick write of my own.
Grace is Here
Grace abides here– a hummingbird mating dance a flutter of evening owl.
Grace fills me– supermarket flowers a friend tells a story.
Grace heals me– words in a poetic card light from the window.
Linda Mitchell has the Spiritual Journey on the First Thursday round up at A Word Edgewise.
When Linda chose the topic of turning for our Spiritual Journey writing this month, I thought of turning from the long, free days of summer to the short, frantic days of school. Teachers go back tomorrow. Yes! The earliest we’ve ever gone back. To say I’m not ready is an understatement. I haven’t even been to my classroom all summer. I am grateful that a colleague did my bulletin board and later today some of my former students will help me arrange my classroom. It’ll get done.
But the turning that I am focused on these days is the changing relationship I have with my children. Since the loss of my father and the Alzheimer’s of my mother, I am coming to realize that I’ve lost my advisors. The two people I turned to no matter what, who would talk, share, advise, and love me unconditionally are no longer available to me. I guess I should be praying more. I am trying to meditate more, but I am spinning a top of woeful angst.
My daughters are busy with their difficult jobs, their young children, and generally making a life for themselves. The last thing they need is a mother who needs them. But I need them. They know me the deepest and strongest (next to my husband, of course). They love me unconditionally. They show up when I ask them to. But is it fair that I turn to them for friendship now?
Last weekend I was sitting on my youngest daughter’s couch catching up on emails. Her husband was lying on the floor watching and playing with baby June, and he told her that he knows one day she will argue with him and think he’s uncool, but today she only had eyes for him. He was soaking it all up to prepare himself for the teen years.
I get a poem-of-the-day from the Poetry Foundation. I read the poem The New Speakers by Gloria Anzaldua and took a striking line from her poem to write a golden shovel.
We don’t want to be Stars but parts of constellations.
In the midday light that blinds, we play Paul Simon Radio and don’t follow the tune, fake the words. We want to be stars in the eyes of our children, but they grow, they change, the parts we play become the connecting lines of their constellations.
Margaret Simon, draft
I want to be in a constellation with my daughters. But this new relationship will take time to nurture. As all turning does, we have to move in its direction, in the centrifugal force, and let it take us where we want and need to be.
Carol Varsalona is hosting Spiritual Journey First Thursday this month. She chose the title: Rejoice in a Sunkissed Summer Season.
“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”— Ralph Waldo Emerson
I am rebelling a bit against the sunkissed summer. I’ve had enough of the sun. Here in the deep south of Louisiana, the sun has been incessant. On my walk this past weekend, I had to walk from tree shade to tree shade to escape the strong beams of heat. Heat index was over 100 degrees.
Finally, relief came in rain through the night last night. The sound of the rain settled me to sleep. This morning’s walk was shaded by cloud cover. I couldn’t help but sigh a thanks-be-to-God.
Resurrection fern is green.Rainkissed Canna LilyCrepe Myrtle blossomingDragonfly drinking from a raindrop.Passion Flower vine
I feel powerless against the endlessness of climate change. I could dive into a rant, but I won’t. I’ll just leave these refreshing photos here for a respite and the thought that life will find a way. These photos are a poem. Poems are prayers. God answers prayers.
The gathering for Spiritual Journey Thursday is at Leap of Dave.
My friend-cousin-counselor-priest Annie told me to speak up. I was assigned to read the first reading on Pentecost Sunday. It was an important one, the one with all the languages spoken, the tongues of fire, the coming of the Holy Spirit. I needed to speak loud and with confidence into the nave of our historical church.
Under all the weight I am carrying, my voice is fading.
My voice diminished by hard things grief worry heavy stuff losing my way losing my voice.
Ironically, before she made the comment, I had started a playlist “I Have a Voice” based on the duet by Alicia Keys and Brandi Carlisle. She suggested I add the song “One Voice” by the Wailin’ Jennys.
This beautiful song with a simple, yet strong message: We are not alone. The message of Pentecost. Jesus says, “I will not leave you orphaned.” (John 14:18) Orphan is a lonely word. As my mother falls deeper into the depths of dementia, I lose the mother, confidante, nurse, and guiding light she once was for me. Orphaned slowly. Annie also told me this is a sacred time, a time when my mother’s hand is still soft to touch. She still calls my name. She still smiles at the sound of my voice. I am not alone. Jesus calls us: “The Spirit of truth abides in you.” (John 14:17) As my voice fades, Jesus’s spirit rises to take over, to hold me, to lift my voice to speak, to say, “I love you” again and again. I have a voice.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
“Some days are like that…even in Australia” were the wise words of the mother to Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. It’s good advice. This mother empathizes and reassures Alexander that life will go on and tomorrow will be better.
What would happen if you stopped trying to understand yourself today? Would your world fall apart?
This morning is a new day, and I’m not feeling as sad or overwhelmed. I won’t chew on my heartstrings all day today. I have children to teach. This is what I am telling myself anyway.
Grief is a weird thing. We all have it in our backpacks that we carry through our lives. Sometimes, it stays back there, weighing little to nothing. You think you’ll be fine. Hey, look what I am carrying with little or no effort. Aren’t I the strong one?
Then someone hugs you, touches your shoulder, gives you that look of empathy, and you crumble. Yesterday our choir master was back at church after a few months away. His mother had been diagnosed with end stage cancer and after she died, his father willed himself to follow her. They had been married over 70 years. This is not my story to tell, but it may give some context for why my own grief hit me hard yesterday. I was overjoyed to see him, but as soon as I hugged him, the tears welled up.
I wanted to understand these feelings. It was Sunday and all the while I did my Sunday chores, yard work, laundry, and so on, I wanted to understand and the more I tried to understand, the more I cried.
Today is a new day. I am breathing. I have a plate full of things to do. I will be OK.
Without even knowing what was going on with me, my friend texted me this affirmation:
I offered my best self today. It doesn’t matter if I did everything perfectly. The day is now past and I will let it be. I am looking forward to the morning. I have the power to make tomorrow a great day. I will feed my strength with sleep. Tomorrow I will grow further.
Source unknown
Today is a new day, a new week, and I don’t have to understand myself.
My hand gathering strength from a tree, Women’s Wellness Retreat, Lake Fausse Pointe
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Welcome to Day One of the 2023 Slice of Life Challenge. This challenge occurs every year during the month of March. Writing every day is good exercise for a writer. This challenge is sponsored by the Two Writing Teachers, a blog site for writing teachers. They post essays about the teaching of writing, but in March, it’s all about the teachers themselves who understand that being a teacher who writes strengthens the teaching of writing. We are a community of peers. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Comments are the sideline cheers for a marathon runner.
I decided for Lent this year I would read a page in the Bible and then write. I’m not committed to sharing each of these journal scribblings, but I’m starting off today with one.
I have been with you wherever you went and have cut off all your enemies from before you, and I will make for you a great name.
2 Samuel 7:9
Azalea Lane
I have planted you in the clay soil of Louisiana. Most of the year, like Persephone, you are perfect, leafless, waiting. You look dormant, dead, but on the first day of March, you blossom and shine like a pink sunrise opening, opening, opening, saying to the world, “I’m here! I’m wonderful! I’m beautiful!”
I welcome March, a month of transformation from winter to spring, transformation through the daily practice of shared writing. Thanks for reading.
The Spiritual Journey First Thursday is gathering at Bob’s site.
For this month’s Spiritual Journey posts, Bob asked us to use the theme “Colors of My Life” Ever since my father died in April, the color that reminds me to think of him is yellow.
One day in early June as I recovered ever so slowly from Covid, a male prothonotary warbler came to my window. He flapped his wings, showing off or defending his territory from his reflected invader I’m not sure which, but I internalized it as a visit from my father’s spirit.
Recently I was in an antique shop with my daughters, wandering as they shopped and I found a little ceramic yellow bird with a sweet succulent in it. Now it sits on my kitchen table. Do we need these little things? Probably not, but in some small way, they give comfort and hope.
My cat Fancy overlooks a succulent plant.
Yellow Through My Days
In a terra-cotta pot, daffodil bulbs sprout, ones my dear friend nurtured and planted for someday.
Someday, a yellow blossom will pop open like a sparkle of light welcoming spring.
Someday, a yellow prothonotary warbler will find a house perched at water’s edge, ready for nesting.
Someday, the yellowed pages of a scrapbook will break my heart.
But today, yellow is hiding inside a bulb, on a southern shore and in a cardboard box
Grab the 2023 Spiritual Journey image for your blog posts. Image by Henry Cancienne.
Do you select a One Little Word for the year? For years, I’ve been choosing a single word to guide my spiritual journey. Last year’s word was Enough. This word kept me in check. Whenever I questioned myself, I remembered “You are enough.” But as 2023 approached, I thought I wanted a more active word. I follow my good friend’s daughter on Instagram. Faith Broussard Cade has become an influencer under the name Fleur de lis Speaks. I clipped this recent post:
My new word for 2023 is Purpose.
What is my purpose?
Does this activity fit with my purpose?
Can I live each day with purpose?
I have been having mixed feelings about the word, so I talked it over with a friend. She offered me the wisdom that my purpose is with God, to bless others with my own faith.
My daughter got an oracle deck for Christmas. She said, “Just for fun, ask the oracle a question and pick a card.”
I kept the question to myself, but the card I picked was “Dancing Spirit” with a beautiful butterfly as the image. The main tenants were “Honoring Oneself”
*Build self-esteem
*Feeling the sweetness of life
* Sharing your inner light in a centered way.
I believe that purpose will continue to show up in my life. Funny how that happens.
I love to share the practice of choosing a word with students. I found some word beads and elastic string at Target, so my students each chose a word and I made them a bracelet.
Students share their one little word bracelets.
I asked them to write a post about their words by choosing a quote and writing about what the word means to them and why they chose it. It’s a fun way to greet the new year.
Today is the first Friday of the month. Time for the Inklings challenge. Molly challenged us to write a poem that answers an unasked question in the spirit of Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s poem Answer. I was intrigued by the way that Mary Lee responded to this prompt by writing after Joe Cottonwood’s Because a Redwood Grove. I wanted to borrow the form and use a repeated because.
Because a Poem
Because upon entering your breath is taken away into aha, yes-and, me, too.
Because breath has power to stop your heart and fill it up again.
Because words seem to know what they are doing.
Because alongside stars, rivers flow capturing refracted light.
If you would like to join the host round-up for Spiritual Thursday 2023, fill out this form.
The first week of the month also brings Spiritual Thursday. This is a roundup of bloggers writing about their Spiritual Journey. Bob Hamera has the gathering at his blog. He selected the topic of Acceptance and Change.
I follow Faith Broussard on Instagram. Faith was a classmate of my daughter’s and she currently lives in Atlanta. On Instagram, she’s become an influencer known as Fleur-de-lis Speaks. I loved her message today, and she used my 2022 One Little Word, Enough.
My family has changed in the last year. We lost my Dad, and this month we will meet our newest granddaughter. I once had a mentor who told me that God is Change. I actually believe that God is the constant in change. God does not leave us where we are, ever. There are changes that are hard, and changes that are good. Whatever the change, our acceptance, our open arms, our breath is enough. I am enough.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 