A Touch of Warmth and Color

Overlooking the bougainvillea at the Honolulu Convention Center

Overlooking the bougainvillea at the Honolulu Convention Center

Good Evening, God!

This morning began with RAIN as my husband Kit was getting ready to go off to run a half marathon (13.1 miles).  Next I was off to a 7 a.m. church service followed by a lovely breakfast with friends. Then 4+ hours of shifting books (for a retirement residence library) then over the Pali for lunch and a board meeting. All the while the rain continued.

Then it was home to fix dinner for my beloved husband Kit. We savored it while we chatted and listened to the rain.

The day was grey but it was filled with wonderful people. People add warmth and color to life — just as the beautiful bougainvillea at the Honolulu Convention Center softened the buildings in the background. (I was at the center for Hawaiian Islands Ministries’ annual conference.)

People make the routines and work of life richer and warmer. It’s so important to make room in our days for real interactions with fellow humans — taking, or making, time to connect. Time to hear and see one another. That requires building margins into our days. Years ago You spoke to me about gleaning. In the Old Testament You commanded the owners of fields not to harvest the edges of the fields. They were to leave something for the widows and the poor to harvest or glean.

That’s a BIG message, God. For me that means not scheduling my day so full that I have to rush by people. I just redid my story Gleaning to make a 3 minute iMovie out of it. Wow! I’m still working on leaving room for You, God.

And . . . It’s not just about my Time, is it God? It’s also about my Money and my Energy.

Advertisements

Story teller,

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in caring for the widows and orphans, Colors, connections, listening, time
One comment on “A Touch of Warmth and Color
  1. Kevin says:

    Hi Margie,
    So good to see you. I’d like to share two poems w/you. The first one hopefully doesn’t require any explanation but I’m seeing the second one with new eyes since I’m learning more about NDEs. It seems that, when I was seven I went into a coma for at least three weeks. The doctors ‘had given up on me,’ or so went the family legend. I had some strange perpera (where the blood wouldn’t clot). They ran some test where they pin-pricked my ear to see how long it took to stop and ended having to go across town to get a chemical to stop the bleeding. At any rate I wonder now if some of the ideas in “Maverick” came from a similar NDE on my part. I have no idea where else those ideas came from. Anywhere, here are the poems:

    Easter

    I am a Christian again this year—the vote was
    fifty-two to forty-five in my Senate
    and there was such chaos in my House
    it never got out of committee.
    Still I visited church on Good Friday. They said
    You carried your cross giving no hint of your future—
    when you dropped it
    You performed no miracles
    but quietly shouldered your burden
    as we all have to do.

    And Easter, the shock of the empty tomb.
    Yes, perhaps separating “Christians” from “Jews”
    but I need your resurrection this year,
    Your promise all my mistakes will be forgiven.
    If I can just quiet my legislature,
    let your love guide my life
    let your love lead me home.

    Maverick

    Harry will never forget the moment he first believed
    he was born in God, part of a plan so intricate
    he could never describe it to anyone.
    That Friday he forgave Billy for tripping him
    in the bushes and kicking him ―
    all was forgiven that day. He was on the path,
    and with each breath he let God

    hold him

    the way he’d held that stuffed animal when he got home,
    that limp lamb he’d found when his dog Maverick got out
    He’d found the lamb after a car had killed Maverick
    and carried the lamb around the house ever since.
    When he came from the bushes he held the lamb and
    started yelling at his mother ― Why couldn’t she have
    been there and told Billy that Harry had been sick,
    that Harry had been in a coma, near death ―
    yet that Friday he knew

    no one ever dies ―

    he was forgiven for yelling at his mother.
    And knew after Billy was punished he’d be forgiven too.
    Forgiveness would be like air.
    Maverick was in heaven or on his way.
    All things happen at once,
    and the joy Harry found at twelve
    is part of him (though it fades so easily)
    still ever since that Friday Harry knows joy
    should be now, can be for ever
    and forever and ever.

    It might be best to respond by Email: KevinArnold@UWalumni.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blogs I Follow
Brené Brown

chatting and sometimes, listening

Rachel Naomi Remen

chatting and sometimes, listening

A Moment with God

chatting and sometimes, listening

Sacred Dance Guild Journal

Since 1958 articles by members & guests offer news about activities, history, Sacred Dance practices, profiles of Sacred Dancers, choreography, images & illustrations.

Victoria Paulsen

How to Step In -- Substitute Teaching

Brené Brown

chatting and sometimes, listening

Rachel Naomi Remen

chatting and sometimes, listening

A Moment with God

chatting and sometimes, listening

Sacred Dance Guild Journal

Since 1958 articles by members & guests offer news about activities, history, Sacred Dance practices, profiles of Sacred Dancers, choreography, images & illustrations.

Victoria Paulsen

How to Step In -- Substitute Teaching

%d bloggers like this: