When the day of Pentecost had come,
they were all together in one place.
And suddenly from heaven there came a sound
like the rush of a violent wind,
and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.
How do you find you way in this life?—
with no true destination,
so many urging paths,
a hundred little blue lines,
a thousand competing maps.
The choice is ongoing, and fraught.
Let the map go.
Be a cloud in the wind of God.
Clouds go where the wind takes them,
rising when heated,
falling as rain,
but never resisting.
Their power is in the wind,
and their closeness to it.
Wind of God, lead me.
Breath of God, bear me on.
as a warm mass of the Rising One
draws air from lung to lung,
with gusts of beauty, courage and compassion.
May 19, 2021