Thursday, May 3, 2007

Dear God,

When the scales are ready to tip in any direction, my hope is that your presence will help me lean in the divine direction. Often that is not the case. I simply react to a situation. Later my heart sadly tells me of my wrong.

I disappoint you on many occasions. I am sure of it. I dip, pitch, careen, sag, roll and veer with my emotions, then my feelings pass responsibility to my mind who justifies my feelings. But when my feelings and mind are finished making a case, my soul steps in and asks, "What are you doing?" Conviction.

I'm not striving for perfection, waste of precious time. I am, however, aiming for a higher spiritual loyalty. Looking toward you, my eyes fixed on the Great Creator of the vast universe, I am looking for God, for direction, for guidance. I am never disappointed, even when I am given a great challenge, something difficult to do. I may be opposed to the idea, but when my soul alerts me to the joy of believing and following, I work to relent my will to Thine.

My life's task is to synchronize myself with you. Often, way too often, I go off on my own. And then I listen to myself and realize I'm off on a side trip to nowhere. I may learn from the adventure but probably I could learn more by staying on the path laid out for me. It's my life's struggle.

I've learned that when I am tired, bone weary tired, I tend to lean away from you, rather than toward. My attitudes and actions reinforce this movement away. Not only do I delude myself, I fail in my grappling for the sacred prize.

But in the midst of the chaotic soul fight, I hear your voice calling me to return. Thank you for the sweet voice of conscience that calls me home. My heart, mind, emotion, soul and spirit find quiet peace, sacred calm. Contentment.

I love you,
Great Master of the Universe.
My soul is contented
only when in line
with your will.
When I step outside
the boundary
you have set for me,
sin looks me in the face.
I may relent,
falling low,
or I may release,
reaching higher.
Meet me
where I am
so I may rise
to where you are.

Grateful for the vision, Andrea