Christmas 2020

There is something about Christmas that reaches within me, touching me at a very deep level that is hard to put into words. Yet is it is well described by our Christmas lights – bright, colourful, ethereal and easily missed within the bushes if I’m not looking properly. All of the Christmas preparations – cards, gifts, food – are designed to connect us, to strengthen relationships. Who binds us together in our relationships but our God who is love.

Our God doesn’t behave like we want – no power, no glory, no ego. Yet still manifest all around us if we open our eyes. Which is why the baby at Christmas is such a telling image. A baby is powerless and can bring out the best in us including the nurturing relationships in which babies grow to their full flourishing.

May we open our eyes and our hearts to the people and the world around us – the gift of God-with-us – every day.

Glimpses

Light mist

over the bay

heightens the otherworldly,

sacred nature

of this regualr morning scene.

Singing, dancing

and innocent giggles

of young girls

to a favourite video.

Waning red glow

adds highlights

to the otherwise

leaden skies

at day’s end.

Until my eyes are fully open,

such glimpses

caught

of God’s handiwork

among the everyday

will have to suffice.

Sunshine

A cloudy Sunday

is suddenly awash

in late afternoon sunshine

that makes me

catch my breath

as spring battles

to assert itself.

The green shrubs and plants

glow gold

as a lorikeet

snacks on the grevillea

in this sacramental moment

of peace and joy.

Sustaining grace

The sky

Is festooned

In all manner

Of cloudy raiment

At dawn’s first light.

Near the horizon

A fierce glow

Of reds and oranges

That kisses other clouds

Pink

Joyously, the tableau grows

Until its time is passed.

This ephemeral beauty

Is a sustaining grace

For the gift

Of another day. 

Passing?

How many times

have I walked on the sand

especially

at my local beach?

Sandcastles and

holes dug by children

Scrabblings

small and large

by canine friends.

Lumps of wood

seaweed

human detritus

shells, rocks

graveyard for a variety

of aquatic life.

 

Yet seeing

footprints

transfixed me this morning.

How many sets of footprints

have marked the sand

only to be erased

by wind and water?

Such a passing marker

of the human race

that considers itself

so dominant

so apart

from the rest of God’s creation.

 

Are footprints

a symbol

a reminder

like this pandemic

that we are passing?

And what will will we do

with our brief time?

Shall we build

or destroy?

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