In late November when the deer run and a singular goose
cries lonely, flies south,
the tongues, they pause in the pleas they know well,
the please prayers, and heads they bow to pray
the thanks prayers, the real prayers that mouth
You are enough,
You who took the iron through the sinew,
You who etched the names into flesh, love-tattoos,
You, the Running God,
God who pounds the earth with Your elated feet
to throw holy arms around the grimy neck
of the swine-herder and prodigal and wretch like me
You Who sent men running
to kill the fattened Lamb to drape over
our ashamed shoulders Your finest garment,
blood stained purity,
You are enough and we bow with every tree and clap with every wave
and eat the bread around the table
in grateful awe.
To read the entire series of spiritual practices
Next Week: As next week embarks us on this reflective season of Christmas, consider sharing in community Christmas: A Season of Seeking Christ. We look forward to your creative voice, ideas, thoughts!
Today, if you'd like to share with community Your Psalm of Thanksgiving ... just quietly slip in the direct URL to your exact post..... If you join us, might we humbly ask that you please help us find one another other by sharing the community's graphic within your post.
(Internet provider to our neck of the woods has been down since last night. My apologies for the late posting of WWHW)
Photos: Mama's thanksgiving centerpieces...
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