• Our Meeting Place

    When last we met along the way,
    The two of us, or sometimes more,
    Knit close together by the moment,
    Touching.
    Close together by what's common,
    Bonding.
    Close together by what's different,
    Shaping.

    We came away so subtly changed,
    I can't explain, I'm somehow more,
    A growing more inside my thinking,
    Shaped.
    Growing more inside my feeling,
    Bonded.
    Growing more inside my being,
    Touched.

    Loving God with all my heart.
    And loving you, my neighbor too.
    I specially meet to think of Him,
    Glorify.
    Specially meet to think of you,
    Satisfy.
    Specially meet to think of life,
    and record the minutes
    from our last meeting.

New Eyes for Old Birds

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Sherry just alerted me to the fact that there’s a cardinal in the back yard. I went to look. I watched for a few moments. He was interesting. Then the thought that came to mind was this: “Old people watch birds in the back yard. Your are watching a bird. Therefore….”

What an odd thought.

Is it a bad thing? Watching birds and the like, I mean.

Yes, if that’s all we do. We are participants in life, not spectators.

But no, if it means we actually slow down enough to see things we were too busy to see before.

Old people lose their vision and wear glasses. But they also see things that others don’t.

Not that I’m old. I’m just thinking about it.

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