It occurs to me…

Photo recently taken in San Leon, Texas on a fishing trip.

This from Howard Thurman stuck with me this morning:

“I have been letting life grow dingy on my sleeve.”

Skepticism, cynicism, doubt – they all come naturally, at least for me, perhaps even more so in recent history.

Thurman’s remedy:

“I seek this day an active wonder.”

And his prayer:

“Teach me this day to expose to Thy scrutiny, my father, the frayed edges of me aliveness until they are renewed and freshened by they Healing and Thy Love.”

Another of those “mistake” photos, that ended up on my camera. Text from Anthony DeMello.

From Mary Oliver’s The Summer Day, which is over-quoted for good reason:

“Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?”

This bookends well with a few lines from my Howard Thurman read for the day from Meditations of the Heart:

“I have been letting life grow dingy on my sleeve. Often it is very easy to take all things for granted. This I do with my friends; often also with the joys that are inherent in much of my living; also with the blessings and graces of life without which much of living would be utterly beyond the springs of my endurance. I ascknowledge the commonplace in my life and my surroundings.

I seek this day an active wonder.”

“I have been letting life grow dingy on my sleeve.” Guilty as charged. But that only leads to Oliver’s question: So, “what is it you plan to do….?”

Photo taken this past week, sunrise in San Leon, Texas. Text from Howard Thurman’s Meditations of the Heart.

Prayers out to those in the path of hurricane Ida.

This photo taken in Puerto Vallarta in 2009.

Blessings —

through it all, the blessings shine through,

inexplicably so,

against all odds,

somehow,

some way,

the blessings shine through —

but of course,

it helps to part the curtains.

Drawn back, as often, to the Coleman Barks translation of Rumi’s The Guest House:

The Guest House

​This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

​A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

​Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

​The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

​Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

I am seeking God.

God is seeking me.

The odds favor us finding each other,

though more likely through His efforts than mine.

Still, we’re both looking.

Much time is spent in Christianity on The Great Commission, Matthew 28:19:

“’Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.’”

It occurs to me on reading this today that we shortchange the following sentence, what I have dubbed “The Great Assurance:”

“’And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’”

Granted, one has to get past the urge to reply with the Airplane inspired quip: “Thanks, Jesus, but quit calling me Shirley,” but having done so, it seems to me that this passage provides great comfort, great assurance.  Jesus has given us a tall order, but is not asking us to do this alone, he is agreeing to partner with us in the process of living our lives.  I, for one, could use the help.