Nana's Hands

Written August 10, 2007 after visiting my mother in her garden.

 

She looks down at her hands amongst the dahlias and the hostas

Strong

And sure in the earth

Wise

In their choices ~

Pinching where guidance is needed,

Coaxing and guiding where direction is needed

Graceful and elegant in their strength and simplicity

 

“I never expect” she says suddenly

“To look down and see Nana’s hands”

 

 

 

Hibernation

Fall is in the air.
Hearty soups,
Strong black tea,
Wool sweaters,
An extra down comforter
Heavy on the bed.
Evenings
To write
Or linger with touches,
Whispers,
Unhurried kisses
In the long dark
Of our hibernation

 

 

Off

The world will not end

If you rest

If you retreat

If you turn it all off

 

Take a book from the shelf

One with a cover

And thick printed pages

Sit in the rocking chair

In the kitchen

Or on the porch

And read from the page

Not from a screen

 

Curl up with your family

Before the fire

Play a board game,

Deal a deck of cards

And talk

 

Take a walk, without your iPod

Listen to the birds

And the children in the park

Without your earbuds

 

Write a letter

On rich, textured paper

With an ink pen

Pay attention to your handwriting

Buy a stamp

And walk to the mailbox

Revel in the time it takes

To compose a letter on paper

 

Write a poem

Tell a story

Visit, like your grandparents did

Talk about the weather

And your kids

Your plans and your worries

 

Feel the pace of your life slow

And your presence in your life

Deepen

Turn it all

Off.

 

 

 

The Garden's Fall Ballet

The wind off the garden is chilly today and damp

Fall is in the air

Petals fall like tiny ballerinas, spinning to the ground

And stick, flattened by the rain drops

Layers of fading color like a stained glass window

Muted in the early morning sun

 

I'll take a picture

Or try to capture the wet light in watercolor

Or maybe, I'll just sit and watch the garden's fall ballet

 

 

 

Worship

I find solace and
Infinite quiet joy
In the liturgy
Blessed be God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit

 

The ancient words,
The rhythm
As much my worship
As the words,
The ritual
Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open,
all desires known,
and from whom no secrets are hid


I fall to my knees
Bow my head
Talk to The One I believe
With all my being
Created this earth
We believe in the Holy Spirit,
The Lord, the giver of life


In the morning
With lessons and prayers
For unto thee will I pray
My voice shalt thou hear in the morning
Oh Lord in the morning will I address my prayers
Unto thee and look up!


And in the evening
With hymns
I love you Lord
And I lift my voice
To worship you
O my soul, rejoice!


I find my way

 

 

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.

© 2012 - 2015 Terilyn Hernandez. All rights reserved.  No images or writings can be downloaded or used without express written consent from the creator.  Please use my Contact Me page to request permission.