Unfolding Light

Winter approaches, and changes are at hand.
Our gardens are bedded down.
In come the patio furniture, the window boxes, the last flowerpot.
The rake goes away; the snow shovel comes out.
We put warmer blankets on the bed,
the down comforter, the flannel sheets.
But our hearts—we don’t pack them away for the winter.
Our souls—they go on as always.
We draw them in to the warmth, the fire at the center.
Love will sustain us through the winter.
Hope will warm us through the cold.
Faith will accompany us through the dark.
Like the brook under the ice, mercy will flow on.
And we will watch over one another.
Storms will come, and together we will weather them.
No drifts will distance us.
Even as darkness falls, the lights from our windows
connect us in the long night.
We touch each other still, like roots beneath the snow.
In the deep burrows of our love, we are well.
Come then, winter, and we will journey together.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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            To one the overseer gave five talents, to another two,
            to another one, to each according to their ability.
                                                 —Matthew 25.15

A talent was a large measure of weight: a ton of money.
Don’t despair because you have merely
a million gifts of God rather than five million.
Don’t envy the power to move the masses.
Don’t think you lack anything
because you can’t defeat an army.
The saints are not heroic, just faithful.
The smallest gift of the Spirit is immense.
Grief that’s not bitter, mercy that’s not weak—
don’t belittle them, nor bury them.
Your patience, your gratitude, your sense of humor—
held, they are worthless; shared, they produce richly.
Your steadfast generosity, your brave compassion,
these simple gifts are worth a ton.
They are not for you. Risk them in the world
and they will multiply.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light      
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Kneel.
        Dig deep.
                And a little more.

Reach out and put your hands in the wounds,
        little graves,
                from whence they came.

What is precious in you,
        full of beauty and possibility,
                life in-folded and present,

is buried.
        Beyond your meddling.
                Rise, and walk away.

The earth produces of itself,
        the sower knows not how.
                Trust the mystery.

Even in deepest winter
       the bulbs of grace believe in you,
                patient in their womb.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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       Keep awake, therefore,
       for you know neither the day nor the hour.
                  —Matthew 25.13

Scholars with furrowed brows will tell you
the parable of the bridesmaids
is a tale of waiting for the Second Coming,
about being as prepared as a Boy Scout—
as if you can anticipate unimaginable glory.

Oh, let someone else do that waiting.
After two thousand years,
the next few don’t look too different.

No, better, look for this coming:
the appearance of the One
who even now enters your life
with enough light
for both of you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Naaman came to Elisha to be healed
but didn’t get the royal treatment he wanted
so he turned away.

How often does my ego
get in the way
of my healing?

I want to be right
more than I want to be loving,
or even loved.

My ego wants to be superior,
and will never want otherwise.
Soul: listen but do not obey.

The only way to be healed
is to honor the wound,
that opening where grace flows in.

My ego will complain
until the moment I am wholly whole
in paradise, when it will be no more.

Till then the wound, the gap,
by grace,
is heaven’s very gate.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light      
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Crowds shift this way and that—
     schools of fish, mumurations of birds;
politicians scurry, thrust and parry—
     some noble, some selfish;
armies move; empires briefly burn;
     history changes costumes;
movements spasm; ages turn;
     some try to steer the flood.
But the soul stands steadfast,
     a rock unmoved by tides,
a tree of life that seasons visit and depart,
     whose grace endures, unfaltering.
Though we may claim or fear to belong
     to a hundred other empires,
we each stem from that tree alone,
     and in that life are one, and are at peace.
Return, then, child of God, to your deepest root,
     draw life and hope there, light and mercy.
Our longest tale may end in woe or glory,
     but we will shine with grace from now till then,
and surely in our shining
     light the way.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light      
www.unfoldinglight.net
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            The bridegroom was delayed….
                         —Matthew 25.5

I will vote today,
but nothing will change yet.

The bridegroom of justice
will not come tomorrow or next year
or possibly in my lifetime.

We are fighting for our grandchildren.
The lamps of quick results will go out soon.

Think of those of old who did not give up
for our sake, not their own.

We stock up on the oil of patience,
endurance and persistence.

The Spirit flowing through us
is the oil for the long haul.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light      
www.unfoldinglight.net
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        Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.
        When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them;
        but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps….
                  —Matthew 25.2-4

Looking for the holy,
some people will be in the dark.
I hope you don’t send them away.
Don’t worry about your oil.
You are the light of the world.
Long into the night
you can share your light.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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God, we praise you for all those subtle saints
who have blessed our lives:
for the parents who endured many a midnight for us,
for the grandma who was often flustered and confused
but never stopped loving us,
for the coach who let us fail over and over
till we got it right—praise!
For the neighbor who never knew what to say
but was a deep, appreciative listener,
for the guy who never had it together
but who stumbled with such good humor—praise!
For the enemy who forgave us,
and the woman who always got our name wrong
but kept praying for us—praise!
For the odd old fellow who never fit in
and lived a rumpled, loving life—praise!
For the widow, so brokenhearted, who showed us
grief is bad weather one can live through—praise!
For all those who never managed to succeed
but who showed us how to be faithful,
who without triumph or miracles
taught us greatness of heart—praise!
For the regular people in whom your light shone
whether they knew it or not—praise!
For all the second string saints,
hobbled, broken, and flawed,
into whom you poured your grace to overflowing,
praise!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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The Emperor sits on his throne,
lofty above the ground,
untouched.

The rest live low in the earth,
related, woven, held,
the minerals of life seeping in.

His only power is fear,
his master selfishness.
He only rules what he sees—

a tiny little world, really.
Yours opens, extends,
includes, exceeds.

When the whole world
is such a paradise
you don’t need a throne, do you?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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