September Twenty-Twenty-Five

 

a few reflections I put together after one of our family hikes earlier this month:  

A Morning Blessing 

Today is new, O God.
Sometimes life flashes before me, and I wake to the gift that this day is.
I realize—I get to be here.
I get to be in the chores, in the errands,
in the ordinary unfolding of hours.

And I notice—
the colors, the air,
the sheer grace of being alive.
“This is the day that the Lord has made.”
If You made this day,
if you intended me to wake up into it,
then there is purpose already here.

Thank You for the gift of this new day—
for bringing me safely through the night,
for bringing us safely to this moment.
Help me not take this day,
these people,
this life for granted.

“Oh, Earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you.
Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?”
Teach me to realize it, Lord.
Even for a breath. Even for just a second.

I’ve got choices ahead of me:
to worry, to fear, to hesitate, to regret.
But there is also this other way—
to rejoice, to trust,
to believe that love is holding my hand.

So I lift my eyes and settle my soul.
This day is yours.
And so am I.
And the only faithful response to such a gift
is gratitude spilling over.

Below are some collages from an extraordinary experience this past week of getting to hike parts of the Camino de Santiago with my parents and with Anna along with a reflection I wrote from the time there. 

Buen Camino!
Along the way—
we were just a few among many,
walking a path
marked with yellow arrows
by those who’ve gone before us,
  

Walking alongside those I love,
simply being—
not rushing, not proving,
just being surrounded by beauty 
and being with one another-
the art of “with-ing.”
That—was the gift.

Pilgrims and strangers
 sharing stories of connection—
and the ache of disconnection.
because we all—
we all contain multitudes.[1]

Reminiscing on the past,
dreaming toward the future,
but also—
learning to accept what is and
to be here—
now
rubbing the sponge of gratitude
over every last thing.[2]
  

For life—
life is but a day at most.[3]
And we—
we get to be here, 
and we are here for it.
Buen Camino. 

[1] Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”
[2] Ross Gay, “Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude”
[3] Robert Burns, “Written in Friars' Carse Hermitage”

Madrid Magic

Last summer, when Anna, Jason, and I went to Taizé, we met a wonderful woman named Maria who generously shared her story with me and some of the lessons she has taken with her after surviving the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. I wrote about her story here: Celebrate Today : A Toast to Maria. 

Since we had an afternoon and evening in Madrid on Sunday before flying out on Monday morning, I reached out to Maria and we were able to spend some time with her and with her husband, Quique, yesterday afternoon. It was such a special time to reconnect and be together! 

This past year, Maria wrote a children's book called Kokoro about some of the things she has held onto from her experience from the tsunami, and she gave a copy to Anna. It's such a beautiful book! 

This is the little straw doll that is similar to the book's main character Kokoro

We all fell in love with their dog Targo 

Buen Camino!

 

a reflection from some of the thoughts I've collected on the Camino this week... 

Buen Camino!
Along the way—
we were just a few among many,
walking a path
marked with yellow arrows
by those who’ve gone before us,
  

Walking alongside those I love,
simply being—
not rushing, not proving,
just being surrounded by beauty 
and being with one another-
the art of “with-ing.”
That—was the gift.

Pilgrims and strangers
 sharing stories of connection—
and the ache of disconnection.
because we all—
we all contain multitudes.[1]

Reminiscing on the past,
dreaming toward the future,
but also—
learning to accept what is and
to be here—
now
rubbing the sponge of gratitude
over every last thing.[2]
  

For life—
life is but a day at most.[3]
And we—
we get to be here, 
and we are here for it.
Buen Camino. 

---

[1] Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”
[2] Ross Gay, “Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude”
[3] Robert Burns, “Written in Friars' Carse Hermitage”

a few favorite photos from our trip below: