Posts
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. (John 1:9)
Prayer has no words today, but words have been my life
so I must try to name what can’t be named, knowing only that I will fail and
that failure at this is better than every success I have ever known.
For today I do not pray; I am prayed, a participant in
a prayer that has neither beginning nor end. When it happens all one can do is
to consent or refuse. And refusal is madness.
So I sit, speechless, as winter light slants through blinds
in the loft, oblique rays finding faces on the tapestry that hangs on the west
wall. Joseph and the magi stand there, but the golden beams pass over and leave
them in shadow to illumine Mary, the child and one magi kneeling at the manger,
as speechless as I.
Time stands still as the light lingers on their faces,
embracing and holding them as one with the child, drawing eyes and heart into
this circle of light where every longing falls silent as the air around them.
A photo across the way fills the dining room wall. Black
and white, a gravel road stretches into the distance, lined by dark trees, leaves
of summer leaves long gone. Disappearing into a thin morning fog, who knows
where the road goes ... or ends? Perhaps a cottage where warmth and light welcome
wandering souls home, where we finally see each other as we are, beloved beyond
measure, though we knew it not.
And this is my life, our life, shrouded in unknowing,
yet illumined by the mystery of the light that shines from this child, warming
everyone who cares enough to come close and kneel there, taken in by Mary‘s
wonder, enveloped in the light from that child that shines through the centuries
to this day, this morning, this moment, filling the silence ... and me.
Silently, it speaks the knowledge of what cannot be
known, the mystery of Loving Light that streams from eternity into time,
sweeping our uncomprehending willingness into this prayer of blessed communion
with the Love for which we have always longed.
And on the white mantle beside me, one word, spelled
out in wooden letters, Peace.
What more is there to say?
David L. Miller
2 comments:
Powerful. Penetrating. Profound. Prayer.
Thank you for the reminder of an experience I had many years ago where the light filtered into my living room where I was sitting alone, and focused only on the babe, lying in the manger. I was spellbound then and now with the memory.
Very fitting also as I've just completed enhancing our communion table in the sanctuary for this second Sunday of Advent with a large wooden board which has the simple word PEACE.
As always and in all ways, I appreciate you dear one.
Rhonda Hainer (2 yr. Academy friend)
Your words gave me pause for thought on this busy day. So eloquent! Wish my faith was as strong as yours in this troubled world.
Post a Comment