BOOK OF HOURS/ 1:00p.m.
For there is
if only we’re
to see it
if only we’re
to be it.
~~~ Amanda Gorman
This hour transported me to a snow-covered hill.
How the hours, like the seasons, pressing forward,
change the face of the landscape…transforming
the Sojourner, chilled to the bone. Yet, a warmth
within allows me to reside in this space.
The clouds overhead give way for patches of blue
sky…the sunlight meets the crisp air
and, for a time, I am frozen in this hour.
The skeletal trees show off their display
of branches. Do they miss being ‘robed’ in vibrant
green leaves? What is it I miss, if anything, this hour?
Each snowflake, its own design…no two alike! A simple
realization, but is it really?
Everything that exists, uniquely and wonderfully made.
It is beginning to snow.
I hold my hand out, a knitted mitten covers my fingers.
A glorious design lands in my palm. Oh, that I could
stay in this place collecting such wonder. Just what is
my prayer in this wintery season? I think it beneath the
snow where so much unknown is taking place. Perhaps,
it is happening in me, too, this hour. The simple joy in
waiting and the humility to embrace this naked now.
How life shines.
Pray with me in this hour…
2:00 p.m. will arrive next Monday—
Promise you will stay…invite another!
No worries if you pass. I hold you in all the hours remaining.