pull up a chair

blessed be the words that spill, that carry us from broth that’s God’s, to bowl that’s yours, that you sip. and sometimes, without a napkin, you might shlurp.
blessed be the year that was, the time that is now, this breath, and the next, and the next.
blessed be hearts that beat as one, and those that beat to a rhythm only they can count.
blessed be this table, where we gather, where we lay down our fears, the aches of our heart, our joys, our deep delight. did i mention our worries? blessed be the whole darn sloppy mess.
blessed be the moon. oh, the moon, the moon.
blessed be the dawn, the lifting of the veil of night, the pulling back of blackness, revealing eyes of day.
blessed be the rustlings, maybe starting now, in kitchens everywhere, as cooks begin to stir through roadmaps, going back in time. taking stops along the way at hearts no longer here, at hearts too far away, to generations and countrysides and newborn cities of long, so long, ago.
blessed be the pomegranate and the pumpkin.
blessed be the turkey cookie with the raisin eye.
blessed be the lumps that will not leave the gravy.
blessed be the little children nestled in their beds. blessed be their cheeks all pink from rubbing on the sheets. blessed be their quietude in dreams, and their animation in the moment of their waking.
blessed be the bones of mine, and maybe yours as well, that creak and whine on rising from the bed.
blessed be the spinning wheel of seasons, the chance to start again. the resurrection cycle. from naked limb of winter, stark against the sky, to filigree of spring, flamboyant summer green, and then, at last, the bold disrobing of the autumn, now settling starkly once again.
blessed be grace, seed child of the divine, the wind-borne fertile wisp we sow, searching every day for here and there to plant it, to await the bumper crop of something far beyond us.
blessed be the rising and the setting of the sun, the sky an endless doodle pad for dabbing color, drawing pink and orange in streaks. blessed be God’s water color.
blessed be papa bird, and mama and the babies, too.
blessed be the cat.
blessed be the clouds that scuttle by, or come like circus critters, a carousel in puffs and odd-shaped taffy pulls. do you see the tail, the trunk, the camel’s hump?
blessed be the pit-a-pat of rain.
blessed be the boy who snuggles close, who whispers, “can we cuddle? like in the little days, when i couldn’t say a word?” and then, before he dozes off, he softly tells you, “you smell like popcorn.”
blessed be anywhere and everywhere and places in between.
blessed be the day, the hours when the busy work unfolds. and the night, when soul is center stage.
blessed be the farmer. and the farmer’s hands, his breath, her back, and the worries that she bears.
blessed be the light and song of those no longer here. blessed be the ache inside our hearts as we feel them wholly missing. blessed be the squirming as we try to find a way to breathe that doesn’t hurt so much in the bald-faced truth of their absence.
blessed be the broken places deep inside, and blessed be the healing.
blessed be the child who looks you in the eye, and tells you he finds God not in religion A or B, but somewhere wholly all his own, somewhere very much evolving.
blessed be the mothers and the fathers who take it all in stride.
blessed be all the ones who never leave our side. who take the outbursts and the murmurs, who weather all the many moods.
blessed be the friends who hold up our wobbly hearts.
blessed be the blessings that really never end.
blessed be you.
and blessed be this day of deeply saying thank you.

carry on. this blessing is communal. it is in the power of our many voices that we might make a noise that cannot be unheard. and i for one am listening….

oh, about the photo up above. that’s my little one, just the other night. he was making a story, illustrated, of how when you’re in love, you make kissy faces. note the sun in shades. and blessed be that child. and the stories that he spins. blessed be the hand that’s learned to move a pencil. and the heart that takes it off the page. it seemed to me quite fitting for a blessed be this day…..