Safeheld in the tree that knows me….

(continued from previous post….)

I grew up amongst the two trees,
feeling the stirrings of them both.
The living tree was where I knew joy,  and a peaceable rest that sprung up
from feeling safe in the
easy just being.
I took refuge in these branches most often alone,  when stress and clamor didn’t steal
away the childlike yes it took to dwell there.
But when hot fever of shame sent my ego into storm,
I’d retreat to the thick branches of the knowing tree
where I’d take comfort in my narrative carefully written:
Who to side with – who was good.
And who or what to blame when feeling less than.

To figure it out,
so that I could feel justified and so at least safe
from the fear of judgement that came creeping
like a shadow in the dark,
lurking always when I felt undeserving of love and care.
And here in any shamestorm,  if I could play the right part hard enough,
I could get high on feeling  like I’d scrambled to a tower, lofty above the fray.
There were perks to dwelling in the tree that seemed to know,
like camaraderie among the approved.
We could be good together,
or against together,
or at least safe together in the camp of the upper-hand.
And even though as a child I had a soft spot for mystery,
it grew harder with every need to prove my right-standing,
to self-protect,
to know and be right.

Yeah I spent years driving nails into coffins
where I buried my wonder alive.

I broke up with the knowing tree years ago,
but I can slip,  and I do,
slip fast like an addict with just one sip.
I can be self-righteous
and I don’t want to live there anymore.
Where some god is propped behind a smoking curtain
while little men demand my attention to their booming bluster.
Especially in this season where the wizard behind the curtain seems to be
whipped into a frenzy,
and we’re called out as stupid if we don’t buy.
How dare I approach the great and powerful?

Well  I have a thing for this tree.
The living one.
This is where I want to spend myself.
On a love so safe that it’s shelter,
a knowing so wide that it’s wonderment
and a belonging so secure that I’m always and anywhere
home
with One who welcomes and wants me as I am.

And when the mad in me goes bitter,
when fear sends me scrambling for what I worry must be scarce,
when I feel somehow superior
or ashamed,
I can trace it back
to the fruit
I’ve been
eating
again.
Stupid tree.

God,
help me settle like a child into the tree growing up
like a fountain from your heart.

And in places where I’ve drawn back like a stranger to love
because I’ve taken on some lies
and missed the affectionate twinkle
in the only eyes that get to tell me who I am,

may I remember it again
and again
and as many times as it takes:
don’t eat from the tree
made of eyes that can never see or know me.

Again choosing life in the living
while the wind rustles love songs from God.

“I have refused to live
locked in the orderly house
of reasons and proofs.
The world I live in and believe in
is wider than that.  And anyway,
what’s wrong with Maybe?

You wouldn’t believe what once or
twice I have seen.  I’ll just
tell you this:
only if there are angels in your head will you
ever,  possibly,  see one.”
– Mary Oliver

Congrats to Rebecca Lanning on the name-draw.
I’ll be sending out your bundle this week
with a whole lot of love!

We shall get there some day…..

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There’s been a cold wind blowing so I’m putting out some seed;
simple bites to strengthen what goes dim when life gets raw.
Gather what you like and take as much as you can carry.
Maybe something that I  scatter will nourish that beautiful flame of yours…….

~  Sometimes her spirit scooped her hands into the sky and they fluttered there,  kissing heaven.

~ She let the weight of her worry be swallowed up in wonder
and took on a holy curiosity about it all.

~ She began to shake off intimidation like bits of sleet from her hair.

~ “You’d be surprised how powerful kindness actually is.
I am not being dramatic;  you can save hearts and lives with grace.
Do.”
– Jen Hatmaker

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“People are not problems to be solved.
They are mysteries to be explored.”
– Eugene Peterson

~ Her feet began to dance,
keeping time with both the fierce and fragile
of her heart.

~”For every complex problem,  there is a solution
that is simple,  clear,  and wrong.”
– H.L. Mencken

~ She knew she carried the pen of her life,
but she drew back from the dark blood of the ink.
So she decided to take up feathers and flowers
and write her songs on the wind.

~ Her courage burned holes through intimidation
until her flame climbed high into the night.

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That’s it.
It’s all I ‘ve got.
Random seeds to scatter.
Served up in a leftover pan
Please enjoy whatever bits you fancy:)
I’ll be back with a meal next week.

“Rivers know this:  there is no hurry.
We shall get there
some day.”
– A. A. Milne