Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Dear God,

I want to act on faith. I want to live out what I believe earnestly. This morning I want to honor you, to glorify you, to thank you for today's gifts. I want to celebrate this morning what I believe to be the revelatory gifts that I received by starting my day at the well.

• My sister's birthday is today. Mine was a couple days ago. We sent each other cards, something we haven't done in years. We signed it with love and we meant it.
• I am loved by a number of people and I love many people. I am loved by you. I love you.
• When I cupped my hand to receive the living water, I noticed a crease in my hand forming a well-fashioned cross. Along with my cup, I carry the cross of my Savior's love.
• Inside myself I also carry the memories of past kindnesses toward me, a renewal that continues to renew me.
• I have a song in my heart that plays continuously. The words change along with the tune, but it's always the same song of hope.
• Even when I can't see the light, I know it is shining.
• I am 62 years old and I have learned a lot of lessons of faith.

I know I could go on and on. That's one of the lessons at the well. There is more. But I just want to savor these today, to celebrate today's gifts, not expect more, but revel in those already given.

Loving God,

thanks for the welcome

at the well

of living water.

While I stood alone

in the quiet

before my friends

joined me,

you brought

to my mind

gifts I now hold

in my hand,

heart and soul.

I will live

with these today

and celebrate.

In thanksgiving, Andrea

Monday, September 29, 2008

Dear God,

Being a leader means you set aside what's going on in your own heart in order to mend the hearts of others. Being a leader calls for objective leadership, looking at a situation, exploring alternatives, and guiding toward solutions.

Uncertain times seem to be causing people to be more tense, more worried, anxious, and concerned. They carry those feelings just under the skin so if even the smallest thing happens, the skin pops and the feelings explode, sometimes leaving people in a wake of hurt, confusion and anger.

As a pastor I have to deal with these outbursts as a way to bring stability, calm, and peace to the situation. I may be feeling the same as others; however, I have to find other ways to instill peace within myself. In those crisis moments I have to lead with a serene calm.

I take refuge in the words of your son Isaiah who spoke of an everlasting light, a never-dry well of living water. Ever bubbling over I invite my friends and colleagues to walk with me in the light to the well carrying their empty cups. When we arrive, I help them fill them up. Whether they choose to drink or not is their choice.

With a shaky national and world economy, I sense the call to spend more time at the well. In fact in earlier days people came to the well together. At the heart of communities, the well was the source of water to all those around. Sometimes they came together or lingered there to share with one another. And there your people found hope, love, acceptance, help, and peace. Someone cared.

Perhaps I need to invite my flock to the well to tarry with me, to share their fears and anxieties, their concerns and pain. Perchance we can help one another find hope for the living of these days. Maybe learning how to share our faith at the well with trusted friends can help us bond, giving us more breath to breathe, more air to suck in, filled with the light of your son Christ. We can sense that these friends care about us and are willing to help us carry our own burdens without falling under the weight. We can drink that powerful water together, giving us courage to walk away with hope and strength to live each day in the shadow of your cross remembering your promise to always be with us and to lavish us with your grace-filled love.

I need that water just like all the rest because I carry the burdens of many people. A stop at the well with friends might just be something to help us all.

O God,
the thought
of your well
waiting
gives me strength
for another day.
I recognize
once again
that you have
made provision
for us all.
Light, love,
help, comfort,
compassion, mercy,
guidance and peace.
Living water
that quenches
any thirst.
I'm going
to grab my cup
and head
for the well.
I can't wait
to see you there.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Dearest God,

I am learning that I need to awaken each day in trust. An act of faith. Even before crawling out of my bed, I need to reaffirm my faith in you. To take my stance. To recommit.

Sometimes thoughts swirl in my head as I lay in my bed in the dark early hour before I rise. A thought about a child awaiting news about her health or a grandchild the same. A worry or concern about the church and how to handle a particular situation. Maybe it's just about unfinished work. Often it is about our world and your people, especially those who suffer silently, those who are abandoned or forgotten, those who are in unimaginable situations. And so I pray.

How I wish I could daily live my life practicing fervently the spiritual disciplines. How I desire to honor you first thing in the morning before I do anything else, yet, I let my mind roam freely about other matters. I don't even know I am doing it until something, someone stops me; your voice calls me back and I say, "Oh Lord, I am sorry."

If I place trust at the beginning of the day instead of in the middle or later, I know my life with you and others would be so different. Walking in faith, instead of in doubt, anger or worry would reprioritize my life. I would become a model of trust for others. But I fail; so often I fail.

As we face uncertain times, I know you are calling me to a deeper life, a life that trusts you on every front. A life that is always a "Yes, God!" rather than a whine and doubt and fear. I know I need to pilgrim to the well first thing in the morning, the well of living water. If my first drink in the morning is the water that gives new life, then I will walk in faith, trust in you for the difficult moments, and live in joy even if my heart is hurt or I am overcome with fear. I need to always have my cup ready, to carry it with me, and be prepared to draw the water that will help quench my thirst.

Sometimes I think I am thirsty for one thing, only to realize later that my thirst is really my need for you. I may want to drink from some other cup which will never provide me with the water I need to not only survive, but thrive. In every condition of life, I always come back to my need to walk more closely with you.

I have
my cup ready.
May I
have courage
to empty it
of unnecessary stuff,
making it ready
for the source
of life.
Fill my cup,
Lord,
fill my cup
with you
and you alone.
Remove the scales
from my eyes
so that
I may see clearly
my need
for you.
When I am thirsty,
help me
draw from
your well
first,
not last.
Lead me,
O Lord,
lead me.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Dearest God,

As I walked through the maze, the lines of faith, I noticed small pieces of flat, thin concrete. I leaned over and picked up a couple of pieces, not sure why I felt lead to carry them. Pieces of someone's lives I thought to myself. Maybe pieces of my own.

As I entered the beautiful center, I found pieces of every size. What are these? I thought. I sat down before the altar (really a concrete bench) and I picked up more pieces. Tears formed in my eyes as I held the pieces of people's lives. I prayed for them and for me.

As I held the material in my hands, I saw how fragile they were. At one time they must have been a foundation for something. But now they were crumbling, no longer a source of strength. As I sorted through the pieces it came to me. I began to piece crosses together first on the altar, small, medium, and large and then on the sides, underneath, and around. As I began to fit the pieces together, I saw before me broken lives brought together to form a cross, the cross, the strength of the pieces. More tears came. I thought how it is you bring pieces of souls together in ways we cannot. You fashion them into the sign of your cross, the cross of salvation, of reconciliation, of peace, love and hope. Every piece needed, somehow these broken, forgotten pieces became a whole again, only this time perhaps with more purpose.

I sat with the crosses nearly encircling me and I felt peaceful, content that I had done my part in providing hope maybe for those who would come after me. I claimed once again the strength of the cross at the center of my own faith. The cross is the glue of love that holds all pieces of brokenness together. The cross of Jesus, the cross of unconditional love.

As I began my walk outward, I looked over and saw the crosses from different angles. As I came upon other tiny pieces of concrete scattered about, I left them behind realizing that sometimes we have to walk on by, praying, acknowledging that we can't take up everyone's burden. Some are left behind for someone else to stumble across. As I exited, I turned and looked once more. Somehow the scene looked different than when I entered. The cross was a sign of God's presence and promise.

O Lord,
the lessons learned
are but
promises with flesh.
You are God
who guides
our lives,
teaching us,
loving us,
giving us hope.
Our flesh
sometimes grows weak
and pieces fall
upon the earth;
yet in your own
loving way
you piece together
what is broken,
giving purpose
to our brokenness.
You make us beautiful
with your own self
and we have
the possibility
of being made new.
I lift up
my praise
and offer you
my thanksgiving.

Love, Andrea

Friday, September 26, 2008

Dearest God,

I lay on my bed resting when I turned over and looked up into the sky. There, a tear in eternity revealed a partial rainbow. One small opening. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Mesmerized, I lay there watching it, thinking at any moment it would disappear. But not so. I watched it for 20 minutes. I moved from side to side, thinking it must be an illusion. I've never seen a rainbow last that long. I stood up but still it remained high in the sky. When I walked away, I peeked back and it continued as the most beautiful picture among the many gray and white clouds.

Signs of hope appear on the horizon when the soul is open to manifestations of your spirit. Just crying out, "Lord, Lord,"...can give way to a spiritual enlightenment. The soul is made glad.

Carrying my own burdens, concerns of children and grandchildren, family, health as well as burdens of the church sometimes makes my soul so weary. I feel the weight. My upright posture can change leaving me low. I drag, forgetting that there is a presence willing to help me carry it. The continuing rainbow was an extension of your hand reaching low to me.

How often have you spoken to your people in an attempt to motivate us to turn to you? How many times have you placed a sign or symbol before us as a way to say I am near? Can we really wander so far that we can displace that presence? No, never!

Today after several hours of rest, I allowed my body, soul and mind to drink in your lavish love and grace. I drank from your fountain of mercy and felt your compassion fill my being. There is nowhere I can go to receive so much.

And so as the sun begins to set, when this day is almost over, when I return to my bed for the night, my heart will turn to you in quiet praise and thanksgiving.

You, Most High,
cry out
to your children,
"Child, Child of my love,
listen to my voice,
hear my words
of comfort,
sit by my pool
of living water.
Drink,
be restored,
renewed,
know that
my water
is always accessible,
always available
to you."
I drink
and am glad.

Loving you always, Andrea

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Dear God,

I've committed to walk with the saints through the best and worst times of my life. I saw the book somewhere and I bought it. I have always known that the saints learned through suffering. I have always wanted to know how it is to meaningfully suffer through hard times, to be intentional about walking humbly and quietly with Christ. The book seems filled with mystery that can help me journey with you.

Each paragraph is full, a gift on each page. I hear the voices of pilgrims speaking, teaching, hoping, crying out, telling. I'm thirsty for their news. I need to know what they know; yet, I come quietly and humbly before them to honor their walk, their struggles, their desire for you.
I long to deepen my faith, preparing my heart and soul to follow more closely. My own desires are nothing when I fully trust you. I set aside my wants to pick up yours.

All the way around these are troubling times and what I know of these spiritual saints is that trouble called for a closer walk. As I awakened this morning, I heard your words, "Look upon them with compassion." I must look at others through the lens of compassion and at myself the same way. What other way is there when looking through the lens of Christ?

I have so much to learn, so much to surrender, so much to see. I am like a little child with a mustard seed faith. At times the seed looks so small, so tiny in my hand. But my mind tells me this small seed has great potential. With a little nurturing it will grow great in the Father's hand.

I am
but a dot
on this great planet,
a teeny tiny dot
with an
even smaller dot faith.
Yet,
I welcome
my status
as a dot
in your creation.
May every breath
I breathe
be a drawing in
of your loving power.
May I release
every bit
of doubt, fear, and resentment
making space
for the Breath
of Life.
May I live
for you,
Lord;
may I live
for you
like the saints.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Dear God,

In the quiet hours before the sun rises, your voice speaks out, "Come to me." To begin the day with you, to rise, to settle in, to listen brings a spiritual stability, a reckoning of faith, a building of trust. I sit and wait, anticipating my own awareness of your presence. And I am never disappointed.

I never know what challenge you will bring to me. I never know what I will need to do as an act of obedience. I never know until I sit at your feet.

These days are hard; yet, I sense your strength, a quiet courage to fulfill your plan. Sometimes I am foggy, a mist settling over me, a veil drawn down, a cloud hanging overhead. But right now I am clear, the way is evident. I may not like the look of the path, its twists and turns, even the precarious places where I will need to travel. But I can see the way ahead.

In such moments I know the only way is to trust you, to believe the vision has a purpose, a God-given purpose. I know that only you know what lay ahead on the path. Only you know what will greet me at the end. Only you know.

I live today in the state of trust because today I know no other way. I cannot manipulate the future. I am not able to change things. I am only able to follow. And follow I will.

Strange times,
I am living
in the midst
of strange times.
I want
to follow
without question.
I want
to trust you
without fear.
I want
to be faithful
without doubt.
I can
only do
with your grace,
your guidance,
your love.
May I act
out of obedience.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Dearest God,

Her eyes looked deeply into my soul as I told the story of my father's Alzheimer's. I told her how he used to tuck me into bed when I was a child, how he would have those blankets so tight around me that I couldn't move, how the bed got warm and cozy so fast that I would fall right to sleep. Then how one day he couldn't remember me and that he died.

Sophie asked me questions as she lay next to me all tucked in her blanket and me in mine. She wanted to know the story as only a child could ask. I told her that I still remember those nightly wrappings and how safe and happy I felt all tucked inside.

I think maybe that's what happens to me when I rest in your arms, when I come to you, crying out for trust. Perhaps that's why I cry out often.

Right now I am relying on you, seeking you, longing for your wrapping, trusting you.

Giver of rest
and peace,
I know
no other god
but you.
I cry out
your name
and you cry back
with mine.
Like a child
crying for her mother,
so do I cry out
for you,
Great Mother
of Grace.
Your compassion
wraps me;
your mercy
holds me tight.

Yours for always, Andrea

Monday, September 22, 2008

Dearest God,

I seem to be in an awkward space, saying goodbye and hello at the same time. Saying goodbye to a friend who stopped being a friend a long time ago. Saying goodbye to a friendship that died and I still held on hoping it would become a friendship again. I have little hope so I am saying goodbye to it. I can always say hello again but for now I am releasing myself from a friendship I enjoyed for some time but no longer.

I'm also starting on a new trek. But before I begin the journey I have to say goodbye to some old habits, ways of being that damage the soul, the heart and mind. Habits built up over the years. I figure that negative habits are built when there is a lacking somewhere in the soul. It's a way of protecting one's self. It's a way of keeping the soul safe from hurt. The problem is that negative habits do not build character, relationships, trust, faith. I have held onto my negative habits to soothe my heart. But my heart was never soothed. It hurt more. My heart is only soothed as I follow you. I can get all the soothing I need when I turn to you. And when I am lacking in some area of my life? Negative attitudes and behaviors further deepen the hole.

I made a decision to think about saying hello. I want to prepare a plan that will enable me to say hello in ways I have not in a very long time. I am thinking about a new beginning that will give me a chance to say hello.

Hope comes in different sizes and shape and when it is born, I know where it comes from. I hadn't expected it but it came to me and I am grateful.

Hope swirls
in the air.
From your hands.
A light
shining in the darkness.
Joy everlasting.
God alive.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Dearest God,

Sometimes I have absolutely no energy with which to preach. I'm simply out of steam. Today was one of those days. I went to your church, took off my shoes, approached your altar and there I knelt. I asked for energy, for courage to give your message. I remembered the words of yesterday. "I surrender all for the strength of Solomon." That was yesterday's prayer and it is today's prayer. It will probably be tomorrow's prayer as well. I need the strength of Solomon.

Surrender has been a spiritual theme in my life for a long time. I know that I must surrender in order to follow, to be obedient. I know I have to release pent up fears, hurts, disappointments, grief, in order to have space to receive the gift you have to offer. By releasing I am made healthy of body, mind and soul.

How much do I have to surrender? How much must I be willing to give up? If I surrender all, what will I have left? Perhaps I'm asking the wrong questions. Perhaps I need to be willing to become an open vessel, left open at the top so whatever needs to be released will be like a mist, a cloud forming, rising up, being returned to where it came from. Eternity.

Oh Lord,
a life of faith
requires so much trust.
I have
to be
so willing
to be lost
in order
to be found.
I have to
let go
so I can find
a way
to hold on.
May I follow
your leading.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Dear God,

Sometimes my spiritual life finds the same place on the path, an unwanted spot in the road. Why do I wind up here so often? Is there a lesson yet to be learned? Something I have failed to see or deal with before? Is it a stubborn place where I refuse to do my work in order to achieve a higher level of trust and faith?

On the one hand I want to wind up at the same place if I have not yet gotten the message you want to give me. I want to fall at your feet, inquire of my learning. I want to follow, to listen, to be obedient. I want to linger however long I need to in order to rise up, to learn, to act upon your leading. On the other hand, I am tired. I simply am out of energy. I don't want to ignore you or refuse yet again to learn. But where can I possibly find the energy to go forward?

I found myself drawn to Isaiah. I found comfort in his words. I know the truth he speaks and I do find encouragement to know I am not alone. I rest in the knowledge that this place is within your sacred circle, although at the moment I feel alone in my struggle.

What I know is what I draw back upon. What I know is you are with me. I cannot go so far away that you are not already ahead of me. I leave you to find you. I close one door and find another open. It is not possible to be away from you, to take a permanent or even temporary leave. I breathe in delight as I give thanks for this resting place with you.

You are
my all in all.
You teach me
because I ask.
I want
to learn
your way.
I do not want
to run away;
neither do I want
to keep trying
to find ways
to get around
the obstacle.
I want
to face
the dilemma.
I want
to trust you
to help me,
to guide me
to the means
by which
to move forward.
I know
it will call
for greater trust
and faith
in you,
maybe even
myself.
O God,
you are
my rock,
my refuge.
In you
I take delight.
I rejoice
in our relationship.
I know
I can trust you.
Help me trust
in myself.

Love, Andrea

Friday, September 19, 2008

Dear God,

Help me practice what I learned in the night. Teach me your way. It is your way I choose to live. As long as I live, may I live your way.

My prayer has so often been: Teach me your way. And what is that way, the way I ask you to help me live? It is the way of love, of trust, of surrender. It is the way of grace and mercy. It is the way of a pilgrim life, one that is always seeking, one that travels the alternative path to the American way of entitlement.

I am intrigued by the life of saints who had no sense of entitlement but rather lived the life of surrender, giving back to you always. Is their way, the saints' way your way? Did they achieve your way of life as a way to teach us?

I want more than anything to walk in the way of truth, the way of love, the way of forgiveness. Although each of these may hurt, like a knife stabbing wound, may I learn what is at stake. Is it pride? Fear? Another way of being? Letting go of someone I love? Am I being taught humility?

I know there is a price to be paid, the price of sacrifice. I may have to sacrifice a friendship in order for your truth to be revealed, for your grace to be given. I may have to sacrifice pride in order to learn the lesson of humility. I may have to sacrifice my way in order to learn yours.

Teach me, O Lord, teach me.

Your way
is the only way
for me,
dearest God.
Any other way
is a break
from the true path.
My heart
is fickle;
I frequently,
regularly
long for
my own way
rather than yours.
Help me,
Almighty God,
to long
ever more
for your way.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Dearest God,

Surrender. Surrender. As I shared in my covenant group, you brought to me the word surrender. Is surrender truly the answer to life's dilemma's? To matters out of my control?

When I carry the burdens of others, I feel the heaviness as if I were physically carrying them. I walk around with this feeling. It is difficult to drag it around with me. I have to ask myself why I do it. Is it because I allow others to penetrate my own skin, thereby climbing onboard my own soul? Do I carry them because I don't know what else to do? Do I usher people aboard because I can't do anything else? Or do I do it when I feel I have failed to make a necessary change?

As I shared my life's goal to be faithful, my colleague reminded me that surrender is a natural part of being faithful. If I hold onto another's burdens, then I am not really entrusting you with the problem. For whatever reason, I hold on to it, making it my responsibility, yet, for the most part I can do nothing apart from prayer. So my spiritual friend reminded me that surrender is once again the answer.

As I reflect back upon the crises I have faced in my own life, I see the way of surrender. It has only been when I truly surrendered something or someone into your hands that I was released of the burden, the pain, the sorrow and fear. Only when I could let go was I enabled to find freedom, to trust you, to enjoy the benefits of that trust.

I have been drawn several times to monastery life as a way of learning surrender. I have traveled to New Mexico, to the mountain to live the way of surrender. I have never been disappointed. I have met every Wednesday at a monastery for 20 years and practiced the way of surrender. On my renewal I went on a pilgrimage to meet the saints, both living and dead, and I daily lived the way of surrender.

As I awakened in the night with troubles swirling in my head, you came and whispered again. Surrender. Surrender. Surrender. I finally got it and as one trouble presented itself, I simply voiced the word surrender and it was gone. Another came and it too disappeared until all had dissipated and I fell asleep.

You are
the power.
The power
of release,
the power
of hope,
the power
of freedom,
the power
of trust.
Your power
opens my heart
and salves
my soul.
You are
the power
of my love.

Always, Andrea

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Dearest God,

A Sabbath Day. I followed your lead to take a Sabbath Day. Just as the dawn was breaking I went outside and sat on the front porch with a cup of coffee. Periodically the wind blew the Corinthian bells. I listened to the sounds of the birds.

I began to read Walking with the Saints. I want to know more how it is that one becomes a saint, what life they lead, how they suffer and lead the way for the spiritual life. I want to understand their mindset, how they think and what they do. Not that I will ever be considered a saint, I just want to know how it is they meet you and their neighbor.

You have drawn me to the saints. Francis, Bernadette, Terese, each of these has touched my life in many ways. They have called out to me and shared a piece of their life. I have some of their diaries in my home. Perhaps that is part of the reason why my home has become a House of Blessing for those who have gathered here.

Later in the day I worked on my book of reflections. Recalling the events of Thanksgiving, Winter Solstice, Christmas, Epiphany, and Winter has reminded me that life lived with daily intention can provide greater stories of faith, hope, courage, and joy. When I turn over my life to you first thing in the morning, when I walk beside you all day, when I ask questions, when I lean to you in prayer, when I listen to you speak regarding the events of my day, the people, the troubles people face, the matters of the church, when I whisper praise and thanksgiving at day's end, all these make for a deepening spiritual life. I don't do a good job of being intentional with my walk of faith. I regularly fail.

Yet, when I do awaken in the morning, I am aware of your presence. If I operate my life with intentionality, then I shall be conscious of your presence all day long. And if I sense your constant presence, then what I say, how I say it, what I do and with what feeling and conviction, I will live my life of faith intentionally. My witness will be one of intentionality. I will become a person of the light, of love and faith. I will harbor no ill will. I will listen and follow obediently. I will be your handmaid.

As I turned out the light early, I felt a lightening of my load, I sensed your good presence and I knew the beauty of the day was yours.

How can I follow you,
Good Lord,
how can I
be faithful
each day?
How can I drive
my spirit
more readily
into your arms?
How can
I listen
and discern
your voice
above all the rest?
How can
I give
my heart away
to you
more often,
more easily,
more intentionally?
How can
I live
the spirit life
with you
every moment
of every day?
How can I
be yours?

Loving you, Andrea

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dear God,

I look out my window and I see the painted edges of Autumn. I breathe in the air that tells me the season is changing. I know Fall is not far behind.

Lord, I remember so well when I lived in two seasons rather than four. I missed the roll over of four distinct seasons...winter with snow and brisk cold weather, spring with new buds and leaves popping out, summer with flowers in full bloom, and autumn with the changing of colors, the trees finally revealing their hidden secrets. I was glad to return to my home state that offered all four.

As I feel the change coming in my bones, I have to wonder what this next season will bring. I wonder about the world, church, family, health, and the economy. What will happen in the next several months?

One thing I do not wonder about is faith. I know that faith will be carried into the next season. I believe that faith will be the foundation out of which I will deal with any situation that presents itself. I believe my soul carries enough faith to carry me. I do know, however, when life brings sudden events that call for a great deal of faith, I know I have to rebuild my reserves. I have to return to my Sabbath days, spend more time in silence and listening for your voice, read the scriptures about faith and trust and courage, worship more fully leaning in toward the Spirit that builds and rebuilds the life of faith. I cannot overlook my need to grow, to stretch, to work on my spiritual life resources.

And so while I observe the painted red edges of the leaves, I take my cue to remain faithful to the task of being an actively growing spirit who takes my direction from you. May I do so diligently with your help.

Never-changing God,
how I rely
on your guidance
for life.
I have
my own ideas,
to be sure,
but your ideas
are always better
than mine.
I lean
on you
knowing
my leaning
will upright me
with your power
and love.

Trusting you, Andrea

Monday, September 15, 2008

Dearest God,

Waiting. Waiting. One woman waits, waiting for a movement of your spirit, releasing her for a new job, her son permission to work, her mother's latest results on her cancer, and her ability to stay in America to raise her children. She waits for a legal rendering, aiding her in supporting her children. She waits. She waits in faith.

Such trust, dear God, this woman waits, trusting in you. I hear her voice and I know it is the voice of faith and trust. Although many would collapse under the weight of the burden, she holds on because she trusts in you.

She wants a new job because it will make it possible for her to come to worship, to bring her children to your house to worship. She wants to give praise to you with her sisters and brothers in faith. And when she smiles in faith, your sanctuary lights up touching every soul. She is one of those whose strength of faith is deep down but then you know that. You have distributed faith to every cell of her being. She exudes faith even in lack. Although she calls me for prayer, I find faith in her words, her devotion for you is full, and she waits because she knows that "They who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall rise up on the wings of eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." These words, your words of Holy Scripture are the source of her faith and trust and her love. And so she waits.

O God,
how blessed
am I
to hear
the voice
of faith.
Your children wait,
waiting for
an answer,
a clear direction,
a leading
of your spirit.
But all the while
they wait
in faith
and trust
in you.
Bless them,
O dear God,
bless them,
I pray.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Dear God,

We came together for a newcomer class. And as we introduced ourselves, I couldn't help but wonder how it is you bring certain people together. One has cancer, one has recently escaped from Kenya after her home and contents were burned down in the civil violence, one has a son, an explosives specialist, who will soon be deployed to the Middle East. One is working on her master's in nursing, another is working on her ph.D in nursing, another is caring for his father who has Alzheimer's.

They brought their fears, sadness, and worry to our church. But they also brought their faith. I was touched by the ways in which they believe you are carrying them. One believes she and her sons were spared through a miracle. Two couldn't stay long enough for the class so we are gathering together again on Sunday. Besides the class presentation, the questions and answers, I suspect we will have a faithfest, a sharing of our faith that holds us.

Your church is constantly being reshaped by the people you bring our way. Steve, Kay, and Naomi will teach us how to be remoulded by you during crises, tragedies, and uncertainty. They will walk among us as symbols of faith. Although the youngest member of the class has the cancer in his foot and cannot drive, he dresses up and walks down the street to where faith is gathering. What greater symbol of faith is there?

Our faith is a living entity, a live and breathing sign of your presence. Every time we gather together our faith is shared. If we have participated at all, in any way, our faith will not be the same as we depart from one another. As I listened to the three share their stories, I felt my own faith strengthed. I saw in their eyes a glimmer of your Son and I knew again that church is a faith community, a community of faith, living members of your body. And I could not help but whisper my praise into the universe, my own testimony of faith.

Steve, Kay, and Naomi,
witnesses to faith,
examples of a living hope.
O God,
make us worthy
to have them
in our midst.
Make us anew
that we too
shall be
the likeness
of your Son.
Our words,
our attitudes,
our behaviors,
our faith.
For after all,
we are
your body.
Fill us
with your gracious spirit
that we shall be
pure love.

Always, Andrea

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Dearest God,

The pieces are coming together. At least the signs are there. And my ability to see them comes because you open my eyes to them along the way.

We sat in the sanctuary as the task force leader presented us with their report. Although the process has taken longer than expected, it has been an important, insightful pilgrimage to the future.

What I know is your church has to renew itself regularly with your spirit. We have to stop, look and listen. We have to evaluate where we are, where we've been and where we're going. Like many churches in transition areas, it is difficult because we are tempted to simply do what yesterday called for. Today calls for something else. And tomorrow, well, we're figuring that out. In order to provide fresh, creative ministry that stirs the heart, cares for our neighbors as well as ourselves, and makes a difference in the community and world, we have these vital stopping points that give us opportunity to adjust and chart new courses.

When I put together the team to look at our future, I felt your leading. I sensed that these were the right people to assist your efforts. They will take the church where you lead us. I am certain of it.

And so my prayer is for them.

Bless them, Lord,
with your vision.
Speak your word,
give your guidance,
lead them
to the promised land
you have set aside
for us.
Instill within them
the courage
and strength,
the fortitude
and perseverance
to lead
your people.
May the love
that drew us together
as a church
be a pervasive reminder
of your presence
with us.
Make us faithful
to your living hope.

Love, Andrea

Friday, September 12, 2008

Dear God,

We sat as symbols of hope to one another. Three breast cancer survivors. Two others with their own hardships in life.

We had come together to work on a mission project. We needed a supervisor, an expert to help us. Recovering from a near-death experience, she showed us how to wrap baskets. Thin and still weak, she was still her perky self. A lot of prayers had been invested in her to bring her back to us.

We worked together for several hours. We knew that our combined effort would raise the price of items that will be sold to help others.

Hope comes in many colors, sizes and shapes. When I find myself skidding downward, all I have to do is look around to find a sign of hope. As I grab hold and begin the climb upwards, I always find you along the way. Of course, my belief is that you were with me on my ride down as well. You prodded me to open my eyes to the signs. The first glimmer can cause me to make a choice for faith, to trust in you, to take your outstretched hand, to make a change.

Every day you set before me a challenge, sometimes an old one, one that regularly serves as my thorn in the flesh or a new one. The challenge is an urging on your part to grow me, to shake cobwebs on my neglected faith, or to uproot a fledging seed that is not bearing fruit. It is never easy and some days I'd like to have a day without the challenge. But I know the purpose and I know what happens when the challenges fail to come or when they come and I ignore them. Flabby, stale, stagnant faith that causes a decaying in my soul.

Today I needed the sign. Not that my faith was stagnant, but I was weary from a conflict, a sadness in my heart. I was worn from my work around it. But you came. You laughed, teased, tickled and helped my spirit rise, yet another sign of your glorious presence.

You came
into my darkness,
shining your light.
Like a
bud that bursts
through the soil
and one day flowers,
you come
and call something
out of me.
You grow
my faith
from a bud
to a flower.
You remind me
that hope
is innately present
in the soil
of my soul.
Your light
restores my sight
and I breathe in
the air
of new life.
You are wondrous,
Most Gracious
and Loving God.
May I always
grow toward you.

Love, Andrea

Thursday, September 11, 2008

My dearest God,

Seven years ago today tragedy struck our nation. It was horrible. I couldn't get my head wrapped around the pain of so many. I couldn't imagine that our nation would ever be the same. I remembered thinking that other countries had been facing horror for a long time.

Just a few years ago my daughter learned she was pregnant. What we didn't know was that not only was she carrying our 20th grandchild, she was carrying cancer in her ovary.

In both cases my own world stopping spinning. I got fixed on the pain and sorrow. I couldn't imagine stepping forward and continuing life as it was. I wondered where hope was.

But on 9/11 in 2004 baby Stella Rose was born, a perfect red headed specimen of hope. In the newspaper I saw a picture of a seven year old girl born just days after the mother lost her husband in the great national tragedy. Both children were signs that life goes on when pain strikes.

I sometimes get stuck again and I can't seem to move on. I look around for hope. And eventually I find it from the same source that provided two beautiful girl babies to mothers facing fear, loss and uncertainty.

So often you remind me that life is to be lived in hope no matter what great pain strikes. You speak your word of hope and some way, somehow you help me to put one foot in front of the other, to begin the journey again. Hope does return, pain is lessened, and thanksgiving resumes.

Most Holy God,
to you,
I owe everything
I am.
When my heart
stops beating,
when fear paralyzes,
when hope
is gone,
I turn
to you.
I am
never disappointed.
How grateful
I am
to have
a vessel
of hope
that I carry
with me
when my reserves
get very low.
Forgive me
when I fail
to trust you
for direction,
guidance
and courage.
Help me
to acknowledge
that deep within me
your love accompanies
my fear
and pain.
They live together
although I am
only able to see
the latter.
Teach me,
O Lord,
teach me
to trust.

Love, Andrea

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Dear God,

A uniting of spirits, a seeing together the leading of your spirit. She and I listened for your spirit together. Wanting to minister to children and to adults, we sought to find ways to bring to light your word.

Whenever we begin a new theme for your church, Donna and I have to pray again, searching for creative ways to touch and inspire hearts for your service. It seems so difficult at first because it is new. The old won't work when we're trying to keep your word fresh.

When the ideas begin to come, we sense your presence. We know in the depths of our hearts that we want only to follow you, to journey into unfamiliar places, anticipating signs that will guide us. When we see the merger of paths becoming one, we know we know we are walking together with you. We know our spiritual act of waiting, listening, and following is a deep trusting of your will to be done. By the time we wrap it up, we know we have spent time with angels, saints and the Holiest of All.

Your will
is always best.
Your way
teaches us
to trust.
We see evidence
of your coming.
We know
that if we are obedient,
you will
bless our efforts,
making us partners
with creation itself.
And we will depart
from one another
with glad hearts.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Dear God,

Courage is raw trust in you. When I am afraid, when I am weak, I fall at your feet in prayer. I know I am not able to muster my self will to do something I need to do. Immobilized, paralysed with fear, I know to come to you. I know I must surrender myself into your hands. Not knowing what I will find, I sit in my own puddle waiting beside you. There I blurt out my fear, my sorrow, my hurt, my weakness, whatever it is that holds me back.

Yesterday I awakened with strength, with courage. The day before I had languished in so many emotions. I had acted, finally having to say what needed saying although my heart hurt much. By day's end I was so troubled, thinking too far into the future. At bedtime by phone someone offered me words of encouragement, urging me to rest and pray. And so I did.

And then I woke up yesterday morning, the series of events placed before me. I breathed in the air of courage, knowing that sometime during the night, I had experienced my own angel visitation. I followed the plan, feeling your strength.

This morning as I sat to write, I heard the chimes blowing in the wind. My Corinthian bells, the sweetness of the sound reminding me that my courage was not of my own making but rather my raw trust in you. I drew in a breath; I gave thanks.

Trusting you,
O Lord of Life,
is my soul's
great desire.
I know
I can expect
an ordinary life
when I follow
my own desires.
But when
I rest
at your feet
and lay down
my burden
I feel
an extraordinariness
come over me.
I know
your strength
is within me.
I have courage
made from
the substance
of heaven.
And I am glad.

Love, Andrea

Monday, September 8, 2008

Dearest God,

You are my guiding power. You are the source of my hope. You are God, to whom I turn. In you there is only grace, grace laced with agape. In you I place my hand, heart, soul and spirit. The only strength in my soul is yours. To you I cling for your purpose.

Make me wise,
make my words
yours only.
Soften my heart,
heal my soul,
strengthen my resolve.
Equip me
for your purpose only.
Strip away
resentment
and bitterness,
leaving me
only you.
Lead me,
guide me
in your way
only.
Remind me
of my own
clay feet
so that
I will not
lodge myself
in judgement,
making the way
for my own heart
to decay.
Your will only,
Lord,
your will only.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Dear God,

Drawn to the words of Mary, your mother, "My soul proclaims the glory of my Lord..." I lay on the floor in prayer, tears streaming down the sides of my face. Praying for friends, praying for quiet leadership, praying for strength and help to lead your people in worship this morning, I trusted in your spiritual aid.

As I entered your home, I felt so apart, so separate, allowing you to feed my own soul, giving me the nourishment I needed to open the day of worship for us. I prayed for your grace at work within me.

In the middle of fellowship I felt the prick of pain in my soul. I needed every ounce of heavenly hope to lead worship, to preach your word. While my soul was filled with deep sadness, I pleaded for your lifting power, lifting me to the place of spiritual strength, that added power from on high, something that cannot be manufactured, only trusted. I reached, leaned in, took hold. With trembling knees and an aching heart, you sent your saints and angels to hold me. And I proclaimed your word with every conviction in my heart.

I trusted you, only you. My eyes were on you alone. I watched for the slightest move of your Spirit and I followed. My hope was in you.

O Living Spirit,
keep me
at your side.
Let me not
wander far away.
Let me trust
in you
to lead me.
I take
your outstretched hand
and I walk,
trying to look ahead,
not to the right
or to the left,
but ahead,
where you lead me.

Love, Andrea

Saturday, September 6, 2008

My dearest God,

The sweet fragrance of peach butter cooking on the stove gave me the hint of Autumn, yet another season waiting for its time. The time and season for fall colors, falling leaves, a chill in the air, sweaters, apple picking.

The season of reflection. Looking back, quietly remembering the Autumns behind me. Persons whose lives I have shared, now gone. I give thanks.

I am in the season of transition in my own life. As I move toward retirement and an ending to parish ministry, I reflect upon my beloved churches, the people, our journeys together. Last things are so important and valuable, how we live life in transition is perhaps the most important season of all. Being grateful, giving life to others and to one's own self, setting the stage for change makes an easy path for others to enter. Being true to my own ministry during this time keeps me focused to prepare and plan for the season just ahead.

Sixty one years, how blessed to receive 61 years, lives woven in and out of my own. As I enter the season of sixty two, so shall my eyes look more deeply toward you in leading and guiding my life. I see the golden strand woven in and through the fabric, a sign and symbol of your presence from the beginning. And so I reflect upon your goodness...

Almighty,
yet Gentle One,
whose mercy
and grace
is unending,
I bow down
in this season
of reflection
to kiss
the feet
of my Savior.

Love, Andrea

Friday, September 5, 2008

Dearest God,

We began our leave taking yesterday. After 20 years I am leaving my covenant group. Not because I have become bored or that things have become routine but rather because I am learning how to conserve my energy due to health reasons and because I know the time has come. Retirement and traveling for long periods would have changed my status in the near future, meaning that I could no longer meet the covenantal promise of weekly participation. When the Carmelites left the monastery where we met and shared fellowship, I knew my own change was not far behind.

What does one say to fellow members of a covenant group who know the deepest mysteries of my life? What words can I utter to persons who have listened to my confessions, know my soul's greatest longings and failings, and have been soulfully present to me through cancer, the loss of my parents, conflicts in my family and church, mournings of a lost daughter and the joy of her return, spiritual falls and climbs, and the transformation through losses and birthings? What can I possibly say to beloved spiritual friends?

Last week I told them the news that my health was in some ways becoming more fragile, precarious and uncertain. Although my doctor has been talking with me for three years, recent events have lead me to begin to accept some changes taking place. Because I am learning to trust you more and more and desire to ultimately fulfill your will for my life rather than my own, I am following the lead to cherish my moments, making my way to extend my life (no, I am not dying) doing what you want. The joys of my ministry even during turmoil, difficult decisions, and personal grief, I celebrate the call to serve. My last months of service I want to provide the most and best that I can, leading the congregation through transition to the next chapter of her life. In addition I want to spend more time with my family, realizing more and more how much they have sacrificed for me to live my life mainly in the church's life.

There were tears, a lot of them. My colleague desperately wants to "fix" me, making me all better. However, what I need most, I told them, was acceptance and celebration. What I have learned is that during bouts of difficulty, you have shown me how to draw into you, to rest at your side, to trust you completely, to find my peace in you. So when I am facing a health crisis, I am at the same time finding my joy in you, knowing your great compassionate love and allowing you to be my life's comfort. What more could I possibly want?

In the weeks ahead we will say a ceremonial goodbye. We will recount the wondrous gifts and blessings you have given us. We will share our gratitude to you and each other. And we will separate from one another, carrying with us the deep inner joy lodged down inside us that will live with us throughout earth's passage and into eternity.

Most Holy,

Most Gracious,

Loving God,

in your arms

I remain

singing praises

of adoration

to you.

I am not

my own.

I am yours.

I pray

these weeks ahead

will be

a rejoicing,

a time

of adoration

and worship

to you.

Loving you always, Andrea

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Dear God,

It is always a battle for my heart. Will my heart listen to heaven's plea? Will it surrender itself to the owner of the universe?

Daily the conflict begins. Shall I enter into union with you for the day or will I give in to my own will, my own desires, my feelings of disappointment, sorrow, loss, or hurt? Will I thrust myself into anger or resentment? At day's end who or what will have my heart?

The conflict began so long ago when I first gave my heart to you. A little child, it seemed so right. Baptism at seven seemed so right, washing away a young child's sin. In the front row pew seated with my little friends, one by one we stepped out of the aisle and moved to the dressing room, putting on the small white robe, taking the steps into the baptistry, saying yes, and then going under the water, rising up clean.

Anything or anyone claiming my heart battles for my life. How often do I struggle out of your arms and into my own will? How many times daily do I let myself move away from humility, obedience and service? When I forget or simply let go, I suddenly find myself in an all too familiar land of self service. When my trust in you falters, when I place myself in charge with all my own wants and needs guiding me, I can lose sight of heaven and heaven's invitations. Soon, very soon, I see how I let go of that which is vital to my soul for something else, anything else.

This new day will dawn before long. Please make me your own once again.

I stand
at heaven's gate
knocking.
You will recognize
my knocking.
I am
a familiar soul
asking for
your guidance
and help.
I want nothing
to stand
between us.
I want
my heart
to always
be yours.
Elsewise,
how can
I ask
for heaven's gifts
if I can't even
give heaven
my heart?

Yours, Andrea

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Dearest God,

I love the quiet. Sitting in bed, the ceiling fan clicking above me, there is something so right when all is quiet. The sounds of the spirit can be heard from within.

For so many years I ran from silence. Couldn't risk hearing its voice. I could only imagine, speculate what would be found in the quiet. Monster voices. Creepy things. Something that would snatch me, telling me frightening things.

But just the opposite occured. In my intense fear, I entered in and what I found was a world waiting for me. A world of sacred space, large open rooms in which to wander, light all around, a universe in which to sing and dance. Without the clutter of artificial sound, I could see and hear, feel and experience peace, harmony, unity, grace, and love. While fear would draw my world down into a tight ball, quiet would open it up, resuming a normality that I suspect was planted within me, every human a long time ago. There I can take a respite from the sounds of busyness, incessant electronic noise, and even the sound of human voices. I can actually listen for your voice.

Now I cannot imagine my world without silence. Quieting my own voice in order to hear yours is now my preference. Silence gives me life, makes me slow down, draws my attention to spiritual matters and ultimately gives me tools and resources that I would not possess otherwise. In those moments I meet you. I draw in the breath of your spirit. I find my true identity and I revel in our time together. These prized moments are my favorite of all moments.

And then I write. The words come to me because I know their Source. These early morning encounters feed my soul and hopefully my soul feeds others with life-giving hope.

This morning in the quiet, I find myself just wanting to say thank you.

In the early morning,
when the sky
is black
and the neighborhood
is still sleeping,
I find you
waiting for me.
In these
precious moments
I find
spiritual food
for my soul.
I feed
on you
before
I feed
on anything else.
Spiritual nourishment
strengthens my body,
mind and spirit.
In whatever condition
I first
find myself,
a change
can take place
within me.
And I am
most grateful.

Love, Andrea

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Dearest God,

I gave birth to a 10 lb. 10 oz. baby 38 years ago today. A few days after her birth, you alerted me in my sleep that she was having trouble breathing. My friend screamed at the same time I saw her in the vision. We rushed her to the doctor a couple minutes away. Mucous from birth. For months I worried about her.

She flew home from her home in France to take care of me for 40 days during my bout with breast cancer. She tended to my every need.

And then she battled cancer herself four years ago. You guided me to help through countless phone calls trying to find the best doctor to deal with ovarian cancer while she was pregnant. I remember breaking the speed limit to get her to the hospital when she began excruciating pain and projectile vomiting. I remember holding her hand waiting for a surgery room to open up, praying for her, pleading for her life and that of her unborn child. I remember the wondrous joy when she was declared free of cancer and her baby was born unharmed seven months later.

Sometimes I just stare at my daughter. I look carefully at her features, celebrating her life. And I give thanks...again.

Oh Lord,
bless this daughter
of mine today,
I pray.
She was always yours
before she was mine.
May your hand
keep her safe.
Protect her
from harm.
May she
be beauty
to her children
and love
that leads
the way.

Gratefully, Andrea

Monday, September 1, 2008

My dearest God,

How lovely is your earth when the sun begins to roll back the darkness. A fresh new day beginning. I peeked out the window, allowing my soul to regenerate.

I painted my uncommon room during the day. My House of Blessing is more and more ready for the movement of your spirit. While I painted, I kept being distracted by sounds at the windows. Two hummingbirds played among the flowers, circling the small tree at the end of the pond. And I listened to the quiet all morning long. What a cherished time!

My youngest daughter called breaking the silence. I told her I was painting my uncommon room and something came up about me being non regular. We broke into laughter several times. I drank in the love when she said, "I love you, Mom." So much healing, renewal and restoration in her voice.

By the end of the day I continued editing my book of reflections. My life lived in the middle. One story after another. I could see your hand in my life across many years.

I am more aware this year than ever before of my age and health. I wander not too far into the future wondering what my 62nd year on earth will be like. Will it be peaceful? Will it produce a season of hope and gratitude? Will I lay down my need to control my life and find rest in you? Will I trust more?

"One day at a time, sweet Jesus," like the song goes, "one day at a time."

One day,
one day
at a time,
that's all
I have today.
But it's enough.
Hold the reigns
of my life;
keep me
from falling
too far
into the future.
Lend me
your help
in trusting you
one day
at a time.
You are
all I need.

Love, Andrea

Sunday, August 30, 2008

Dearest God,

Sometimes it is difficult to return from vacation to the beloved community of faith. Transitions can be hard. It had been difficult several days earlier even before the vacation was over to have to deal with church matters. But seeing the faces of my flock, I was glad once again to be with them in your presence.

Whereas I had had little energy yesterday, I felt myself filled with joy energy today. Joy that comes from the inner places, from the deep where I am sustained and renewed. Although my body was still weary from the week and I rested all afternoon and evening, my spiritual reservoir was full.

I found myself wanting to touch each person, a hug, a pat on the hand or shoulder, an acknowledgement of our life together. These are hand chosen people you have given me to be my companions in faith. You have brought us together to walk the pilgrim way together. And although the time will soon come when my path will diverge, this is a prized time.

As I locked the doors after the service and left, I realized the gift of the community of faith. I could see how each one brings their faith to the worship service, how each one shares it in one way or another with others and how we take home more than we brought in. I was loved back into the community after being gone several weeks. Faith welcomed me home.

You are
the author
of faith.
You renew
your people,
Sunday after Sunday,
worship after worship.
We see
your face
looking back
at us,
smiles spreading.
At some point
or another,
we realize
these are
our sisters
and brothers
in faith
our family
welcoming us home.

Grateful, Andrea

Saturday, August 29, 2008

Dear God,

I didn't have to go hunting. You placed it all before me. The sermon title fell out of the air. The song was instantly playing in my head. The hymns opened to me, a new one I had never sung before. A poem by my favorite author and words about leaning on you came immediately to my mind.

But it was the movie that most surprised me. My staff and I had tried everywhere, the libraries, the movie stores, everywhere we could think of. When I had to stop in the grocery to get something I couldn't get at the store where I had stopped earlier that the movie appeared just inches from the self check out. There it was, just one copy. I let out a "Oh my God". I smiled and realized it was yet another gift. A couple of calls produced women to sing the song "Lean On Me." Everything, placed on my lap.

At first I thought it was for others. And I'm sure it was, but then I realized it was also for me. I needed to lean on you, to find my inner strength, my hope, courage and joy. I had prayed for it and you had provided it in miraculous ways.

It came easy because I was worn out. You simply took over, providing everything I needed.

Thank you
seems too small
to offer you.
Two simple words
conveying my gratitude.
I am stunned
again and again
by your way
of soothing
the human spirit
and caressing
the human soul
when we need it
the most.
You are present
even before
I call
upon you.
You are
my life's
greatest gift.

Love, Andrea

Friday, August 29, 2008

Dear God,

My reservoir needed filling. I was tired in every way today, not much energy for anything. Yet, I still had ministry to do even though it was my day off.

It seems the spiritual reservoir is something that needs filling regularly. It goes down, gets depleted when I use it up. I can see it rising again and then falling when I use up my spiritual gifts.

One thing I can always count on is you, Loving Father. When I come crying to you, when I call out your name, you rush to my side. You fill my reservoir with love, grace, and living water. When my body, mind and spirit are used up, you come to my aid, refilling me.

I know what depletion means, how it feels, an achy feeling in the heart, an emptiness in the soul. I experience loss and feel a sense of hopelessness. Unless I turn to you, I fall down on the slippery slide of gloom and doom. I can't see the light. I am consumed by my own failing or my own heartbreak. When I try to regain strength on my own, I am too raw, too hurt, too disappointed, too emotionally undone to rise to the level of faith. I need you. I need to turn to you, to the Source of my life energy. And when I am consistent, when I let go, I allow your spirit to flow in, renewing me. Sometimes it takes a while; it's not an instant replenishment. I have to be patient, to wait on you. The waiting teaches me not to wait so long the next time, to turn to you daily, resestablishing myself with you. During that time I feel your lifeblood restoring me; I know who it is that cares for the deepest part of me. I know I am not alone; the slightest thought can make me aware, conscious of your presence. I know restoration is not far away.

There is none
like you.
All kinds
of cheap substitutes,
but none
like you.
You are
the power,
the source,
the energy,
the love
behind the universe.
Without you,
there is
no color,
no texture,
no pure joy.
I want
only you,
dear God,
only you.
I take
great joy
sitting at
your feet.
I learn
the secrets
of the universe,
the mysteries
of life
and spirit unfold
simply because
you chose
to share them
with me.

I remain yours, Andrea