An unlikely gift….

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There is something new growing in my gratitude garden this year,
this odd fruit of  thanks for the  crisp,  clear gift of anger,
the way it tolls like a bell
when we need to stop and pay attention
to the sound our heart makes when it needs to be heard above the roar,

shaking and quaking that something feels false
and needs tweaking,
some line needs clearing,
some part of our voice needs hearing,
something fuzzy needs sorting
till it’s shiny and singing true.

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It’s a gift and a grace to get angry and I’ve left it often unwrapped,
trying to walk off the burn
instead of letting it whisper it’s wisdom
and lead me back to my dislocated parts,
to healing and gathering me whole again.
There’s this sweet,  wild smell about it all.
a freedom  for my heart kind of thing.

It’s joy to finally recognize something as gift
when you’ve spent too much of your life apologizing for it.

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“Bitterness is like cancer.  It eats the host.  But anger is like fire.  It burns it all clean.”
-Maya Angelou

I’ve been celebrating some of the sweetest gifts in my life
this month,
those of you who read and take the time to leave a comment
(pure joy to my heart,  those).
Each week I’m drawing a name from those who stop and say hello,
just a little giveaway….a happy surprise package,
a sort of love bomb:)
(This week I drew the name of beautiful and dear to my heart
Anne Camblin.)
I’ll be drawing another name on Saturday.

May be something new….

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I’ve been pouring gallons of tea on the ground,
a happy concoction I make for the gardens I tend
and with every splash of the fertile,  watery goodness
I feel strength find it’s way to roots
and it does this May thing in my heart
’cause it’s so much fun to pour on life
so,  mind if I splash, splash, splash
some fertilizer over you,  too?

Okay,  hold still…

May these be days of open doors and soft dappled light,
of warm southern breezes and lids lifted off,
a waterfall of birdsong pouring down
washing weary things clean.

May this season find you
and fireflies,  too,
with new dances and next steps in even old places,
new touches and brushes and whispers and spaces
and fresh grace to live close to your belly.

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May you lose the “it’s not worth it”
and feel it fluttering inside that you matter,
that you’re loved with a love
that isn’t lost or weak or sleepy,
a love that is leaning in and moving toward you,
meeting you more than halfway
with freedom to spare,
freedom to share
and fresh hope thumping joy inside your chest
with new rhythms.

I feel it for you,
your life growing into fresh new shades
of beautiful.
Drink it in….you are worth every drop.
.

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“Well I’ve got a hammer
and I’ve got a bell
and I’ve got a song to sing all over this land.
It’s the hammer of justice,
it’s the bell of freedom
it’s the song about love between my brothers and my sisters
all over this land.”

-folk song by Lee Hayes and Pete Seeger

finish lines and freedom…

City streets sang as the starter gun splashed the morning awake,
the 8K runners surging into motion,
a bright and feathered circus rolling around the bend
and from sight,
this grinning mother waiting with ready camera
for my brave girl to cross another finish line.

As I walked the sidewalk,  waiting, 
a city garden snored,
sleeping in the early winter shadow
cast by brick and stone

and my heart was caught up in the fierce beauty
of another quiet race
and I drew near to watch timid, tender faces
reaching from dark places
and I was stirred to cheering for us all.

You GO,
with your sweet quiet courage,
breaking out of shadow 
into wholeness,
into yes-to-who-you-are-ness,
into light.

This quiet little race dazzles my heart
and I’m bathed in hope
and sent soaring back down the sidewalk
toward finish lines
and freedom
and my own next steps forward.

Thanksgiving was a beautiful time for me,  even with the giant Peter-sized hole and a head swimmy with cold.  Loving and lifting you all as we head into this last turn of the year….that we all finish strong with sweet peace and swelling hope. 
Cheering wildly in your corner,
Jennifer