(Until Pentecost, The Daily Sip will be using images from a reredos which the cathedral gave to Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church when we planted her near the city.)
Fireflies
We are frantic for you, oh risen Christ.
We lunge for you like
living life’s longings
or like a child and her first firefly.
We carry the burdens of our choices
like so many nuggets of coal and gold
in bags weighed down by our
evaluations of them.
But you, oh Lord of LIght
make all things new.
You take our hands,
cold in the morning chill after
a long night, and you warm them
on your chest
so that we might feel God’s heart beat.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
And that seems to be enough to do
what we must do.
We put down the bag of gold and coal.
Walk away with the lightness
of unburdened wandering
and then,
with the heart-hope of people
in wilderness;
we do our work.
We are kind.
We are gentle.
We are free of our attachments.
And we make good choices for the
next 15 minutes.
And repeat.
