Hello Reader. I hope this love letter finds you feeling the full value of your hearty gorgeousness. But if the worries of the world are diminishing your light or muffling your life song, may you find a glimmer of Light to kindle the beauty that lives within you. May you find a moment of peace in the Forever Love of the God of angel armies.

Poetry Garden Podcast

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Poetry Garden Podcast - ep. 8 Kindled

Surrender

There is a boy here who has five small loaves of barley bread and two fish. But what good is that with all these people? John 6:9 Contemporary English Version

A boy, barely visible in the crowd of men except for what he holds in his hands.

A mother, unseen by the gathering crowd, giving her son bread and fish—enough for a long journey or to share...

Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute! Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. Philippians 4:4-7 The Message Bible

Flames lick the black sides of the pot, reaching to the rim, sizzling under the splash of bubbling food. The woman bustles around the room with only the light of the fire and two candles as she prepares for the journey. Her heart flutters in anticipation, not for herself, though she wishes she could go. So many rumors of miraculous wonder. But more than the miracles, the stories of the love emanating from this man. Who is he? And why has he come to us?

This mysterious miracle worker has been spotted in a town not too far from where they live, and her husband plans to search for the truth. “I'm taking the boy.”

Normally she would protest, for the boy is still tender in years. The trip will test his endurance sorely. So excited about traveling with his father, the boy couldn't settle down to sleep last night. He knows little of the man his father wants to see. The boy only knows that his father chose him, and him alone, to accompany him on this journey. The boy knows nothing of the trials he will endure—the endless dusty walking, the blisters, the sore muscles, the need to conserve water and food.

She should protest. Protect the boy. But something in her heart tells her to let him go.

The boy wanders into the room, dressed and ready. He stands with his hands on his hips as the mother packs fish and bread, extra clothes and water into two satchels.

Troubled thoughts wrinkle his brow. The woman understands the thoughts that darken the horizon of this adventurous day, but she waits for him to speak.

The boy pokes around and shuffles, heaves a sigh, and mumbles.

The mother invites his thoughts out into the light. “Did you speak to me?”

“Uh uh.” A pause. A shuffle. A sigh. “He called me ‘dummy!’ Then he…” The boy grounds a fist into his hand. “I shoulda…”

The words trail off, and instead of continuing his violent thoughts, the boy lets out a soft whistle, and a scruffy but well-fed dog leaps into his arms, covering his face with slobbery kisses.

Once they settle down, the boy asks, “Why did Josiah hurt me?”

The woman finishes her packing and places both satchels, one big and one small, next to her husband's walking stick at the door. “Do you remember the bird you found with the hurt wing?”

Eyebrows knit in confusion at the change of subject, the boy nods.

“Was the bird happy to see you when you picked her up?”

The boy shakes his head and rubs his hand as though the wounds were still there. “She poked me until I was bleeding.”

“Pain does that, my boy.” She lets the word sink in as she moves the pot from the fire. “Serve yourself some stew. Then find the lid and cover it, please.”

The boy obeys while she dampens the fire to smoldering smoky embers. Then she turns her attention to the fish in the mesh above the fire, turning them over for a second round of smoking. When she sits down, she smiles at the boy who has served her a bowl of stew, too.

With one eyebrow cocked into a question mark, he asks, “People poke, too, when they hurt?”

The woman nods. "Sometimes hurt gets so big we can’t hold it inside anymore, and we lash out."

The boy peers into a far corner of the room, then returns his earnest gaze to her. “What pain could Josiah have? He's so big. His family has so much more than we do.”

The pepper sting of smoke tickles the woman's nose, and she rubs it before answering. “We can't always know someone else's pain. We only know that returning pain with more pain doesn’t heal. It tears us apart. Think about what would have happened to the bird had you reacted differently.”

Wide-eyed, the boy looks out the window where dawn’s first embers glow and the birds trill their dawn song. “Samach,” the boy whispers. “I wish I could have kept her. Why doesn't she visit? Do you think she's okay?”

So many questions from this curious lad. Rejoice, he named the bird as they tended her back to health.

The husband moves around in the other room. They will be leaving soon. Another flutter in her stomach. Fear? Excitement for her son's adventure? “I think you gave her the best you had to offer, and once she flew away, she had much to rejoice over. The rest is in God's hands.”

The woman moves to help her husband get ready, and as the father and son walk out the door, she places a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Small acts of kindness with great love, my boy. When people are hurting, always show kindness. You never know what pain they may be feeling, what hunger may be growling at them.

“You have a God who loves you. A family who loves you. Why, you have riches many people do not. Share some of that love with those who are hungry for it. Now take your bag and go with your father. When you return, I want you to tell me everything that you learn from that man named Jesus.”

The woman stands in the door long after the boy and his father leave, shaping her worries into prayer and praises. At the moment she turns to enter the house, a bird flutters to the window next to the door. Never have the birds dared to come so close. The woman and the bird peer at each other in frozen silence. Then the bird shifts to look at her with one eye, and shifts to peer with the other.

It couldn't be. Yet the coloring was the same. “Samach.” Rejoice! Rejoice! God knows my concerns, she says to herself, and He will bring everything together for good. Rejoice! Rejoice! Then she sings her favorite psalm. “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His Love endures forever.” (Psalm 136:1)

Smiling, the woman enters the house, scoops some grain into a bowl, then stands in the yard scattering the grain for all the birds. The fluttering wings echo the fluttering in her heart.

Who is this man her husband and boy would see?

***

“There is a boy here who has five small loaves of barley bread and two fish. But what good is that with all these people?”

The words paint the boy’s face in shame. He convinced his father to share the few remaining provisions. His father protested, but the boy said sharing their lunch with those who had nothing was the right thing to do. The father smiled at the boy, tousled his hair, and asked, “When did you get so wise?”

But now, standing here in front of these men and their ungrateful doubts, he feels stupid and small. The man they call Jesus is watching him in silence as the scoffing men argue. The boy digs his sandaled toes into the dust. He is afraid to meet the gaze of judgment.

Yet, the urge to look up is too strong to ignore. When he meets the kind eyes of this man, some power he cannot name burns in the boy’s heart, and the boy no longer feels small. Jesus smiles at the boy and nods. Did he just wink? It happened so fast. The boy isn’t sure.

Jesus takes the offering, small but given with great love. Then, while the boy returns to his father, he hears Jesus giving instructions to those scoffers.

“Well,” his father says upon the boy’s return, “at least we’re able to feed the teacher.”

Around them, people gather in groups of hundreds and fifties. Those scoffing men walk among them, carrying baskets full of bread and fish that they hand out to everyone.

The bread and fish looked exactly like what the boy gave the teacher. The boy's father raises one eyebrow in question and looks at the boy with a gaze he has never seen on his father's face. They eat until they are practically bursting. The father reaches to brush some crumbs from the boy's face. Again, that look and a chuckle. “How'd you get to be so wise?”

They listen to the teacher’s words well into the evening. And as he listens, the boy plans how he will share the day’s events with his mother when he gets home.

Each individual, as child of God, has a gift, an offering to share with the world. Yet the worries of the world want to bury our light under the ashes of despair. The harshness of this world feeds us the lies that we are not enough, and our song becomes muffled behind a curtain of doubt.

Our human vision, our expectations, can only see so far. A few fish, a few loaves. But sometimes God asks us to let go of that which will feed us for a day and surrender it into His hands, so that through His grace, He can nourish a multitude for eternity.

But how do we trust, especially in the midst of our pain? How do we dare to hope when our hearts are tender and aching?

There is no quick-fix. Only deep breathing and prayer.

Remember the invitation: Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns.

Remember the promise: Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down.

Surrender isn’t abandoning, but loosening the grip on our shoulding enough that we can open our palms to receive God’s giving.

In the hands of the great Carpenter, our small offering is sculpted into a piece of beauty that can have an impact transcending all understanding. Jesus will guide our ways.

Our gifts are not for us alone. When we surrender our expectations into God’s mighty hands, we not only nourish ourselves, but we nourish each other with our actions and our words.

Our offering is our life song. Our life song is God’s Love song to the world. Small acts of kindness with great love

shine His Love and Light for those who have been in the dark too long;

feed the hungry with the Bread of Life;

quench the thirsty with Living Water.

Shape your worries into prayer. Surrender to God and He will shape you into an instrument to sing His love song to the world.

Poetry Garden

The fiery trials of disappointment and struggle can consume us until it feels as though there's nothing left, whittling away everything but the essence of God—yet a touch of beauty remains, a glowing ember in us that the Lover of our soul sculpts into His instrument of peace and kindles into His Love song to the world.

Inspiration for this poem was drawn partly from Mechtild of Magdeburg's words: “The Holy Spirit is our harpist, and all strings which are touched by Love must sound.”

Kindled

fiery trials

aching flames

licking, honing, lathing, shaping

sculpting a lithe instrument

in the hands of the great Carpenter

a surrendered soul is kindled

clothed with dignity and Grace

in the glow of dawn’s first embers

new strings are placed

love and kindness

trust and hope

patience and peace

but the greatest of these is Love

all strings

under the touch of the great Harpist

strummed with Love

must sound

Breathing Practice

This week, we will expand on the practice of watching our thoughts with mindfulness. Consider taking your mind and body for a walk today.

Practice mindful breathing, feeling each breath as it enters and fills your belly, then as it flows back out into the world.

Observe your thoughts from a distance. Remember, when your thoughts run away from you, use your breath as an anchor to bring yourself back home to the present. Greet your thoughts by name, then politely put them on hold. Hello, planning. Hello, frustration. Hello, anger. Hello to-do list. I’m walking now. Then let the thoughts drift away like clouds in a vast blue sky.

Note the colors around you. Feel the warmth or coolness on your skin. Notice the quality of air as it enters your nostrils. What smells do you observe? What sounds reach your ears? Notice textures, move your tongue around in your mouth. Engage all the senses. Observe everything with mindful curiosity.

When your thoughts interrupt your observations (and they will) congratulate yourself for noticing their wandering, then bring yourself back home with your breath. No need to force anything. Do the best you can with what you have at the present moment.

This exercise is a perfect way to untangle frazzled thoughts. Take five or ten minutes to clear your head. Maybe you think you can’t afford the time. But if your mind is roadblocking your productivity, ask yourself if you can afford not take the time to reconnect with God and clear some space for smoother thinking.

If you can’t get outside to walk, you can do this exercise sitting or even lying down. Feel the ground under your feet. Or feel where surfaces touch your body. If it’s safe, close your eyes to enhance observation with the other senses.

Always do what feels right in your body. If you push beyond your comfort zone, pay careful attention. If emotions or movement cause you any pain, stop this exercise and take care of yourself.

Always compassion. This is an exploration to find what works best for you.

Bloom to Share

A porcelain rose from my garden (as mentioned in the last letter) to remind you of your hearty gorgeousness.

"Contemplation is nothing else but a secret, peaceful, and loving infusion of God, which, if admitted, will set the soul on fire with the Spirit of love.” —Saint John of the Cross

Sometimes the struggles of this world poke us until our hearts ache and bleed. Seek stillness in the storms. Remember the invitation: let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns.

Place your worries in the hands of the God of angel armies. Remember the promise: before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down.

Holding our pain in compassion and prayer heals us until we find the strength to stretch our wings and soar again. And through it all, we keep our focus honed on the One whose love endures forever.

Forever Love. Something beautiful to sing about.

Our life song—God’s Love song—something beautiful to nourish a hungry and hurting world.

Until next time...

Aimee Selah

a Surrendered Soul Kindled in Dignity and Grace

Poetry Garden Podcast

Surrender

Poetry Garden

Breathing Practice

Bloom to Share

Live in Trust, Hope & Extravagant Love—Desired

Kaleidoscope—Life-Light blazing through brokenness

Stillness Song—the Voice in the Eye of the Storm