Do Not Be Afraid.

He will rejoice over you with gladness;
    He will quiet you by his love. Zephaniah 3:17b

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. Luke 1:35-36

Breathe in and breathe out.

May I be heavy with You

Ripe and sweet in love.

Three years ago we made a deal with the parish priest: he would write a letter of introduction for this odd group of pilgrims, if we committed to praying “Hail Mary” every day, or three times a day.

And Matteo explained what it means to honor Mary, heavy with fullness, as she opened her life to the movement of the Spirit and carried The Creator of the Universe wherever she went.

When Judy was here, we talked about the King James translation, and the power of the word, "heavy," and in "heavy with child." and I have been reading the King James every morning since then. 

And this openness brings leaps of joy. And promises of profound heartbreak.

Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.”

Do not be afraid.

Thy Lovingkindness is Better Than Life.

My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise Thee with joyful lips. Psalm 63:5

Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you. Luke 8:37-38

We pray to step beyond the boundaries of what we call kindness. Expand our notion of mercy and enable us to turn toward our enemies even when they do not turn toward us. Amen.

It is clear that He has a much more generous measure than I could ever muster.

I mean, Linda and I were pretty silly as we skipped and danced around my Place, while her friend Doug shook his head in wonder. “I can see how you are friends,” he smiled.

But there is no other response, as marrow and fatness run down my laughing lips. Sweetness permeates every pore of this 98-year-old house with the freshly white-washed walls and the freshly installed white subway tile backsplash.  The afternoon light is lovely, but oh, so is the early morning light, as the day rises to meet the sun. And the evening flickering candlelight isn’t so bad either, with the stillness only broken by the not-so-distant train whistle.

Shaken together, running over, put into my lap.

Yesterday as I was sorting through the last of my tattered cardboard boxes, I found something gifted to me last summer by the teachers in Iraq: a drawing of my name in Arabic, tangled up with the word “Mercy.”

May it be so, dear LORD. May my notion of mercy be so expanded that it becomes part of who I am, tangled up into one beautiful portrait of You and Who You Are.

Amen.