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.