The week is getting away from me already, and it's only Tuesday. By this I mean, I had been dreaming of extended, leisurely study and pondering time, as well as quality time with friends and parish members, as well as a couple of important and thought-provoking meetings. And when I was organizing the week, I thought it would all fit together nicely, but it looks a little frantic in places.
I am not carving out the writing (and especially poetry) time that I thought I would be carving out.
But I did take a nice walk in some soft rain this morning.
I did not sit down with the Scripture texts for quite as long as I thought I would this afternoon. I wove my way through all six chapters of Ephesians, on the way to focusing on the doxology of Ephesians 3.
But I did spend an extended time catching up with an old friend from seminary about everything under the sun, from theological passions to personal life updates. I have not done anything like this for a long time, and it felt like an extravagance, but a necessary one.
I got a little book recently, called These Days. It's small, hand-made, and contains a few prayers and poems for the Daily Office. I found it at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts.
My favorite poem right now is by my friend, Pastor Kae Evenson.
There was a day when we asked who you were.
On that day, you turned your back to us.
"I am" you said, that's all.
There was a day when we asked you to show
us a miracle or two.
In return you asked us to follow you to Jerusalem.
On that day we did not know that strength is having
the courage for small, kind gestures.
And then there was the day when a small prayer
pulled through us like a thread, as taut and hopeful as light.
Forgive them, you said, for they do not know what they do.
In the meantime, in the space between your hopes and what the day becomes,
in the space between the time that blows through your fingers and the time that rests in your lap,
in the space between your good intentions and your not-so-good intentions,
I offer this poem to you.