Category: Reflections

Oh, Holy Mommy, Mommy,
Unimaginable but Here,
may our hearts revere you,
our lives name you who are Unnameable.
Your delight—unfold!
This world—be as you intend!
You are our life in this breath… and this one, and this one.
You who cancel our debts, real and imagined,
help us let go of everyone’s:
no one owes anyone anything. It’s all a gift.
Steer us past our desires and attachments;
save us from our selfishness.
Beloved, you are the only power;
you are the whole world;
you are the beauty of everything.
Wow.
Amen.



[Here is a collection of ten paraphrases of the Lord’s Prayer.]

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

You will not find the best from above.
Kneel in the bread-colored dirt.
Bow down among the weeds.
Draw your face near to the earth.
Lift their green hands, from beneath,
where they hold their offerings.

Let the smell enter you.
Let the wind lay its hand on your face.
Let the sun wrap its arms around your back.

Earth has no need to give you
what is not yet ripe, or already past.
Look for the pure red heart;
feel the gentle firmness.
You know you touch the light
of the first day of creation
slowly deepening in each little red sun.
Hear the soft “yes” as the stem snaps.
Like a child the fruit rolls into your hand.

This moment is really no different from all others.

They come to you one by one.
Imagine who might give such a gift.
In the silence of your own ripeness,
venerate the gifts on the altar of the afternoon,
genuflect with wine-red hands,
and receive your morsel.

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

Spider, teach me of prayer:
happy with where you work,
flowering shrub or rusting hubcap;
the first leap from here to there,
that suddenly possible connection,
repeated and amplified,
the little knot of hope, extended,
enlarged, layered out
in the architecture of patience,
the ever expanding rounds
more like a window than a door,
the thinness of your lines,
yet how they hold morning dew
and shrug off ripping winds. Teach me
the grace of not getting caught
in your own web,
not thinking or even looking
how your little feet work the tightropes,
on your legs as thin,
well, as thin as prayer.

And then the waiting,
so still,
the still, still waiting,
waiting

for the tiny bug of God.

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

           “Martha. Martha.
           You are worried and distracted by many things;
           you need only one thing.
           Mary has chosen the better part,
           which will not be taken away from her.”
                           —Luke 10.41-42

Beloved, oh Beloved,
you are distracted.
You have scattered yourself among many things.
Gather yourself into the one thing needed,
which is to be present.
Do what you do, no matter how hard or dull,
with love and attention.
Or do a different thing.
Even with many things to do,
do this one, being present.
Then do the next one.
One thing at a time, fully,
mindfully, giving yourself.
You can both do the dishes and look out the window,
but be fully present to the dishes and the window.
Don’t let wishing, regretting,
or how you feel about what you’re doing
distract you from what you are doing.
Be satisfied with being present.
This is the better part.
Being fully present can’t be taken from you.
You are yours to give.

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

           I am like a green olive tree in the house of God.
                           —Psalm 52.8

For 360 million years
in the tree that is my family
I have been learning how to live,
how to live together.
I have rooted tendrils into the hardest soils,
learned to make edible life from the scratch of light,
blessed and been blessed by a sorority of fungal webs,
holding hands unseen with whole forests.
I have fed and sheltered saints and scoundrels,
held fragile nests in my million fingers
and carried untold generations of little ones in my arms.
I have learned to let go
of all the leaves I have accomplished,
mastered the mystery of energy
raised in spring and hidden deep in my roots in fall.
I have stood on mountains and city squares,
through frown of heat and fist of ice.
I have been used to make ships and gallows.
But in all, I have survived; and I have served.
And whether you come to me for shade or lumber
I will praise God in the greenness of my being.

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

           Mary sat at the Beloved’s feet
           and listened to what he was saying.
                           —Luke 10.39

We drove through cities and towns,
little burgs and urban stacks of buildings,
suburban developments like giant microchips,
past apartment windows and farmhouses,
cozy neighborhoods and lonely hovels.
Each house a story. So many stories.
None are evident by appearances: the neat estate
may hide a story of abuse and loneliness;
the sagging single-wide a story of redemption.
The people we saw—the people you pass by—
every single one is a story with a beginning and a middle,
and you only know one sentence of it.
The nuanced setting, the alarming backstory,
the various characters and their own story lines,
the intertwining of so many subplots, these you do not know.
And the end? And how it all fits together,
and what the story is really “about?” Ah, wait.
But meanwhile what a privilege it is
to be welcomed into one home,
one story, even to just look around.
What a gift to know someone who is willing to hear
your whole story. And what a gift we have
to sometimes stop and listen.

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

           Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village,
           where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
           She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet
           and listened to what he was saying.
                           —Luke 10.38-39

We just returned from an 18-day road trip to visit family:
4000 miles, 17 states, 2 provinces, 10 beds, 14 relatives.
There were both Marthas and Marys,
who met our needs for bed and board,
and who offered a place for our hearts.
We cherished both—the feeding and resting, and the listening.

It’s good to be Mary or Martha, or both. Both are blessed.
Mary chose the “better part” for her, not for anyone else.

Food and shelter, and a listening heart.
God offers both;
earth offers both;
good hosts do so.

The Beloved feeds our souls,
then sits and says,
“Tell me your story.”

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

Mysterious Love,
your Spirit is my breath;
the fruit of your Spirit is my life.

I breathe,
in and out,
and breathe in and out
your love, joy and peace.

My blood flows
through my body,
and through my body flows
your patience, kindness and generosity.

I look upon the world
and through my eyes shines
your faithfulness, generosity and self-control.

Your Spirit lives in me;
and the fruit of that Spirit is life;
and I give thanks.

               [Gal. 5.22-23]

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

           James and John said,
           “Boss, do you want us to command fire
           to come down from heaven and consume them?”
                           —Luke 9.54

Don’t you just want to slap James and John
for being such idiots?
In fact, why stop there?
Why not command fire to come down and consume them?

Funny how (a) we want to destroy people who disagree with us,
(b) we imagine we can do so, even if just by insulting them, and
(c) we assume Jesus likes that.
Wrong all three times.

(When fire actually does come down from heaven, as at Pentecost,
it doesn’t destroy people; it destroys our divisions, connects us,
and helps us communicate when previously we hadn’t.)

So when people won’t listen to us or even won’t accept us,
what do we do? Instead of calling down fire,
call up the fruits the Spirit has given you:
love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity,
faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Practice this among your enemies and see how you are blessed.

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

Yesterday our son Jonathan and I
climbed Mt Washington, the highest point in the Northeast.
The trail went straight up—
so steep at one point there’s a ladder.
It was brutal. It was beautiful.
Up top it was frigid, windy, and spectacular,
and worth it.
But what I treasure is the going up and the coming down.

Mountaintop experiences seldom happen on the mountaintop.
They happen along the way,
in the ordinary places, in the hard places,
where we give ourselves over
to where we are, to what we are doing, to what is happening.

A mountaintop that keeps going on is just a plateau.
Don’t seek mountaintop experiences; just experience.
The whole mountain is as blessed as the top.

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