Growing Pains

If there weren't any falls,
There would be no getting back up.

If there was no end of the book,
There would be no new stories.

If there was no bitter cold,
There would be no warming up.

If there was no death,
There would be no coming back to life.

Happy Harvest

      Life is always bursting at the seams with activity at the beginning of a new school year.  One of the biggest challenges this time of year always brings to the table is balancing the effort of putting away enough food for the winter while ensuring there is plenty of time set aside for everyone's schoolwork.  Slipping in one area can quickly tip the scales enough to throw off family balance.  For me this has meant putting a temporary hold on the flow of writing I had been pursuing over the summer.  However, this breezy Saturday morning I found myself gifted with some spare moments all to myself and I jumped at the chance to steal a few moments for working on this little piece that has been taking shape in the back of my mind.  It's a simple exploration of my love affair with good food and its spiritual impact on moods and feelings.  

     The variety of food provided for us by God does more than simply sustain our lives with physical nourishment.  Food alters and elevates our moods and comforts the body and soul when we are in need.  It is no small wonder that Jesus referred to himself as food or living bread.  Food, being a universal need, is something we are able to wrap our minds around.  We can see, smell, taste, and feel it linking aspects of our physical self to our spiritual dimensions with romantic harmony.  Yet food goes a step beyond simply connecting us to ourselves.  It also links us to each other and Our Creator as well.  
    
     I see each food designed by God as a loving miracle.  It is no small wonder when I can taste a warm sun-ripened raspberry plucked from a prickly branch or slice into a hydrating cool cucumber on a muggy day.  They become living proof to my whole being that God created the world for us!  He knew at the beginning we would need to wrap our shaking hands around mugs of steaming tea with tear-streaked faces or slice into sweet smelling loaves of warm bread on a frigid morning.  It seems to me that each food and all that we are able to create with it is an extension of the many facets of God. Each one is a preconceived gift from above that should be celebrated, enjoyed, and shared with family and friends.    

Happy Harvesting!



Sweet Current

Trembling fingers

grasp,

Spiced mocha mug

sipped with

caution so

fever won't burn.

Butterfly stomach 

gnaws,

Sweet corn aroma

fasting for 

love that

dines on fumes.

Running thoughts

stray,

Currant jam drips

toasted on 

hope to

fuel empty tanks.

Salty palate 

thirsts,

Iced fruit cleanses

melting the

urge to

return to the fray.

Roused appetites

jump,

Early fried confection

sweetened by

warmth that

sustains over time.

When Dreamers Dance

Simply because dreams keep hearts alive.

Dancing with enticing ocean waves

Glass winged butterflies

Mourn the inability to swim.

While leaping into breezy spaces,

Gleaming stone fish 

Dream of scaling distant heights.

Foreigner and familiar stranger 

Merge at the surface.

Diving into deep pools

Traps damaged flimsy wings

Magnetically toppling hardened 

Steely climbers below the 

Twisted parallel tracks of 

Hesitantly determined trains,

Carrying infant hearts

In trembling crafted cradles.

Frightened martyrs fight boldly

For ancient queens retreating

Gracefully across wired curbs

Sporadically hopping the distance

With the ebb and flow of 

Bottled diamond messages

Bobbing amidst tangled sea grasses

Under a stung blue moon.

Bumblebees laugh at the folly

Of children sliding on banisters

While Irish lasses freely ramble

Thundering fields of streaked light,

Futilely chasing wild horses into 

Bloody battles crossing divides

Where dinner bells and songs are 

Drown out by the clashed cry of war.

Building paper dreams 

Bigger than aged airy houses

Empties celebrated cornucopias

Into frozen wastelands,

Compromising hallowed chambers 

Of sheltered snow globes geared 

For wiping out on black ice

Melted slowly by ringed fire.

Responsible travellers check

Burdened weight of cargo

Gingerly leaping doormats

On wings of lyrical lunacy

Waving polka-dotted flags

Over shark infested waves of 

Subtle uncertainty tossing

Casually upon plastic shores.

Perch upon a rugged cliff

Consume a wedge of brutal pie

Cup hands and dip into icy

Creeks flowing through rusty cages

As energy jumps magnetic fields

Stepped down for soft landings,

Reality sparks transformation of hearts

That never wake from the dream.