Do Not Go Fearful

A prayer at close of day, with apologies to Dylan Thomas

(read the original gorgeous poetry here.)

Do not go fearful into that strange night
Old age should burn and long for close of day;
Ache, yearning for the rising of the light.

Wise ones at their end know dark is slight
Because their shadow will be brief, though awful, they
Do not go fearful into that strange night.

Good ones know their deeds in time aren't bright,
He shines on them, the sun on a green bay;
Ache, yearning for the rising of the light.

Wild ones who ran from the eternal Son in flight
And learn, in time, He sought them on their way
Do not go fearful into that strange night.

Grave ones, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes will flare with sunrise and be gay,
Ache, yearning for the rising of the light.

And you, my dear one, there on that sad height,
Grasp His whole blessing with both hands, I pray.
Do not go fearful into that strange night.
Ache, yearning for the rising of the light.

Love Gift

Pascal is growing and changing so quickly.  He's already in the hilarious and clumsy stage where he tries to shove his soother - his sucie - into my mouth.  He shakes and pants with happiness, yanking it out of his own mouth and grinning wildly while pushing it toward mine. And while I obviously don't want it, I'm just smitten with the fact that his heart is already beating with the gorgeous truth that pervades all existence ... when we love someone, we give them our best.

Love gives.

And gives.

And gives.

And so I find myself with streaks of drool on my face, staring into the joyful generous eyes of an 8-month-old, heart pounding with love.  Because the fingerprints of the Great Giver are everywhere.  Yes - even on a raggedy old sucie.

Xo.