Standing here, at the heart of matter,
I long for stillness,
All too aware that when I am shaken,
The rest of those whose lives I touch
Are profoundly rattled and stirred.
And so I seek that centered calm I feel
When I connect with You
And though I know it flows through me
To many other lives –
Some part of me still wonders
if it might be perceived as selfish,
To reach for that oxygen mask,
And put it on my own face first,
And so, enguilted, I neither delegate,
Nor ask for help;
Only give; make no time to receive,
and fail to find my link with You,
But churn instead in ceaseless busy-ness,
drowning in this chaotic sea
Of people, plans, and promises I’ve made.
Were I to pause and listen to the waves,
I’d hear your essence,
A lifeline’s slap across the water.
And if I were to stop and take a breath,
I’d feel your love
In the warm and liquid wash of a morning shower,
Or flowing o’er my hands in the kitchen sink;
In the delicate scent of a candle,
Or shampooing my daughter’s hair;
In the taste of fresh fall-ripened corn
Or a leftover grape, unpacked from yesterday’s lunch;
In the music of a chance-heard song on the radio of my car,
While driving in to work;
In the colorful splash of autumn's first leaves,
Or the twinkling spark in a friend or lover’s eye:
Each calls me home to you
If I but pay attention.
Remind me, Lord, to watch for you;
To create a space where thought will not intrude –
If only for a moment –
So I might hear and see; taste, smell, and even touch
The sounds and sights; the flavor, scent and feel
Of You.
Words and Image by Diane Walker
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