11.02.2011
The Beauty and Mystery of Life ... Of Her
weekends are for rest

How to Live Fulfilled

A Holy Experience

There’s three on the sill, all open to light, all open for filling, all for what comes just as He gives it, and me just wanting to find corks, even now.

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Mama said it to me the other night, us sitting in her front room in a ring of lamp light and me ringing the rim of my cup of hot chocolate again, again. Me wondering if I made a wrong turn somewhere and now how to get unspun.

You only have what you give away. All that you’ll ever have is only what you’ve shared.” Her long hair’s silver in the light, her rich and flowing free.

I tell her more and then some and she gathers me up in her listening.

Gathers me up and says life’s about air and we’re meant to fly and I say no, I just want to hide. Want to find a bottle and slip inside, ask for a cork and a sea and ride waves far away.

But maybe it’s this: sometimes looking like a fool is wisest because it’s only the wisest who recognize their own reflection. I need to be okay with this. I need to face this. God only makes strong tools out of those weak enough to know they need Him. The wise men are the ones fool enough to follow a star because they know Who they need to hitch their lives to.

When my Mama kisses me ‘night she whispers it, that He descended so we might soar so just trust the way the Spirit blows.

And I go home to the three on the sill, glass with mouths open wide, catching reflections, and I stay and face it. We aren’t what we possess or what we pretend, but only what we pour out.

That’s what they look like, clear blue sky, all three bottles there.

A trinity emptied …. and filling with light.

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