Silent Sabbath Morning at Bon Secours

August 11, 2019

Busy Brother Ant

Was it you who nudged me

To lay down my “Sabbath Time” book

   And join in worship?

You, zipping this way and that

   And over my sandaled foot

Wordlessly urging—Look!  Listen!

You, choirs of cicadas

   Singing praise to our Creator

   Need no baton to know just when to come in,

     How to answer the others in the “call and response”

        Native to your tradition.

The birds add their voices, chirping canticles

   Their tweets a refreshing reminder of the holy and true.

Sister Willow, you are showing me

   How to dance before the Lord

  Swaying in Spirit’s breeze

   Bowing all the while.

Yet-green leaf, dropping off the tree

   What might you teach me about letting go?

   Alighting on the pond’s surface

      Only to float, buoyed and carried by Yeshua-breath.

    You fell, too early it seems to me,

      But what do I know of God’s time?

        Or of leaning, and falling, into trust, for that matter?

Pond, who supports my new teacher, you sing and dance

     To God’s song, too.

  Lapping ripples--is that quiet laughter I hear?

      A joyful noise centered in your confidence in God’s unchanging love.

  You know how to be still before the Lord,

      Yet even when you are not

         --how hard it is to be still!—

     Your surface reflects God’s glory

        And your depths offer a home to the koi

        Who move so effortlessly,

          And yet, like me, receive their food in due season.

     Their gratitude, I feel certain, exceeds my own.

Perhaps this Sabbath,

    Mind will settle into heart.

Thank you, Brother Ant, and cicada choirs and chirping birds.  

Thank you Sister Willow, leaf, pond, and koi.

  Thank you, holy ones.

      Thank You, Holy One,

            For what you teach me of mutual indwelling.