butterfly-time

Good morning…

A friend sent me this poem written by a woman I probably will not meet until our souls see each other in heaven.

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Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

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Way beyond stockpiling toilet paper, might this unpredictable, stilling two weeks slow down our bodies and awaken our hearts, our words, our “tendrils of compassion” to reach out to each other in calming, creative ways?

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty [emancipation from bondage, true freedom]. And we all…are progressively being transformed into His image from [one degree of] glory to [even more] glory, which comes from the Lord, [who is] the Spirit (2 Corinthians 3:17-18, AMP).

May the Spirit of the Lord expand through our eyes, our voice, and our prayers as we are transformed in fresh, freeing ways.

…Sue…