What can separate us from the Love of God?

What can separate us from the love of God?

Can struggling children
deepening wrinkles
nagging weakness
our human errors
crippling illness
lingering resentments
grieving hearts
poor choices
poorer attitudes
discouragement
inadequacy
addiction
fear
pain
sin
disbelief
death?

No.

Lest we consider
With drawing our hand from His
And backing away
In sorrow or shame -

When He would hold us close. 

Blue sky

I am grateful
For bits of blue
Seen after many days of fierce weather
When the storm breaks, and the heavy woolen banks are willfully thrust aside
a little.

I am grateful
For the brilliant hem of white that rims that sudden opening
And for tangible, visible rays of light that pour forth
From the heavens to the earth
(a glimpse of celestial glory?)
Sending heavenly sustenance. 

Fall leaves

I've read that the changing of the leaves in the fall
has to do with the cessation of oxygen and glucose production
and a corresponding lack of chlorophyll

How unsatisfying

Considering the sun-bleached treetops
maple leaves that burn like the most brilliant summer sunsets
the palest sunshine yellow of the Aspen
Poplar leaves strewn like sun-burnt copper pennies along the sidewalk
The air glowing with borrowed warmth

Fall colors mark the marching of the seasons
revealing, defining and lending perspective
to the darkest woods

It seems to me
that to comfort us ahead of changing, colder days,
God reminds us of the constancy and majesty of the Son. 

The glass, darkly

Those features, too familiar

From habitual daily glare-

Garishly overforcused

Every blemish magnified

 

Oh, those pores

The widening of the nose there

And what fickle child scribbled the lines so?

 

I squint, nose pressed against the darkened glass.

 

Gently, He scoots me back

And flips my mirror.

A wider view-

Brightening,

 

Shows a bit more

Of the journey

And the transformation

Than I could see up close.

 

Foolish and Wise

 

I am both virgins – foolish and wise

No sooner to take one glorious step

Than slip and spill

How can I be

Both faithless and believing in alternating breaths

Knowing what I know?

 

Perfection is not required at this stage

But constancy

Might let me see the wedding feast.

Are we not all beggars?

Are we not all beggars?

A bit of breath and will in dusty form-

One slight creation among worlds of manifested power.

 

Overconfident, we take to lofty heights

And claim kinship with mountain peaks

And when the earth and rock slide

Wrecking our aspirant mansions like sandcastles,

Bruising our inflated senses,

Then we grumble of unfairness.

 

While the Lord, purveyor and creator

Gently blows away the debris

(A sort of heavenly sanding).

And although it stings,

We are cleaner, brighter

Better souls for it.