O God,
You are a Rising God,
And each morning I rise with you.
I rise to the rising of your sun.
I rise to the new day dawning.
I rise to love and to work,
            to play and to joy.
Shield me, encircle me.
            Protect me, guide me.
Envelop me in your love,
Carry me in your heart.
O God,
You are a Rising God,
And each morning I rise with you.

Time to rearrange the furniture of my inner rooms:

The couch of compassion needs to be closer to the door, ready to receive the weary.
The table of truthfulness and trust wants to be under the window of light.
The chairs of charity call to be cleared of clutter accumulated through the clinging, cold winter.
The footstool of faith does best in the middle—accessible to all who need a lift.
The matching lamps of love and laughter could use dusting and dim bulbs replaced
The rugs of rejoicing need only a bit of shaking in the warm spring breeze.
The pictures of possibility can be hung on the walls in place of the art of arrogance.
The hearth, heart of my house, cries for sweeping of its stale ashes.
Now, position a few pillows of peace and place some posies of playfulness.
Break out the wine of whimsy and welcome and the baked bread buttery with being.
Now open the curtains of contentment!
My home of hope and hospitality is ready.
The door of divine love is flung wide.
Come in, my friend!

                        Barbara Schlachter

The Donkey Speaks

You may call me Brother Ass, a play on words,
as Blessed Francis called his body in his humility.
You may remember me as Balaam’s Ass,
who spoke the truth and saved a man.
You might recall how I first carried him--
in his mother’s womb on the stony road to Bethlehem .

But I want to remember the day when I bore him proudly,
directly on my back, feeling his weight,
while people cheered and threw down their cloaks for my rough feet.
It was so easy to bear his body—how we glided through the streets.
I wondered in some way if he was carrying me.
But no, at the end he leaned over and with a pat whispered,
“Well done, my brother.”

The first day of G-8, Wednesday

Oh gracious and loving God, we remember the leaders of the eight nations meeting today in Pertshire , Scotland . May they remember what they have pledged to one another and to the world: the commitment to end severe poverty on the earth. May they find the political will to do your will, to care for the least, the lost and the last. And may we each find our way to do our part, to live out our connection to all the peoples of the world as our neighbors. Amen.

                                     BHS

Longing for as long as we have been,
Gazing into dark heavens,
Reveling in stars and moon,
Awe and mystery greeting us.

“What is man that thou art mindful of him?”
The earth we grew from was the world we knew,
Its vastness comprehended only from mountain peaks.

Then we lit the earth with our own lights
So that we could hardly see the stars,
And we took ourselves to the moon,
Placing our feet upon her.
Looking back we saw—
“For the first time ever, ladies and gentlemen,”
The whole of the earth, turning,
A giant sphere of swirling waters,
Suspended in infinite space.

We saw that it was, after all, very small,
And we could see no barriers or boundaries,
Only water and land.
It was one world, with one people,
And we fell in love all over again
With the awesome mystery of creation.

            Barbara Schlachter    

Stop!

Don’t try to read one more page.
Put down your pen.
Lift up your eyes.
See the light on the branch outside your window.
Really see the wind moving gently, every so slightly, through the tree.
Observe the terminal buds being made ready to burst.
Hear the birds that know better than you that spring will come.
Put down your pen.
Put your mind in your body.
Breathe! Open! Rejoice!
That you too are part of the great miracle.

            Barbara Schlachter

Count it all Gift

Each morning an elegantly clad waiter steps into my presence
            bearing a covered sterling serving tray.

With great flourish he removes the lid,
            bows, and presents me with my life.

“Your day, Madam.”

On the tray are 24 new hours, shimmering and pink
            with possibility and hope.

“Enjoy,” he says,
            “And share with others.”

Last night the waiter came into my room and said,
            “Write this down and I’ll let you sleep.”

I did and he did.

            Barbara Schlachter

Well Woman

I am a well-woman.
     Down deep are my roots,
     washed and nourished in the life-giving waters of the Mother, held in the all
     bearing and receiving earth.

The waters of love are free to flow up and out and over like a fountain,
     not caring for a minute who gets which drops—
     but laughingly and lovingly sprinkling all who come close.
There is no end to this water,
     no need ever to ration or conserve.
The more it flows, the more there is—
Come and play with me in the puddles.

            Barbara Schlachter

Reflection on Psalm 84 at the Divine Feminine Weekend

Blessed are they who dwell truly in the body.

Blessed are they who know their home is within—
            and everywhere else in your wondrous creation.

Blessed are they who have let you build a nest
            to nurture them from deep within themselves. 

Blessed are they who recognize their own heart as your altar,
            where all creation is celebrated. 

Blessed are we—for this is our truth.

And our praises come from happy hearts
            through parting lips that smile and shout,

Blessed Be All That Is!”

            Barbara Schlachter

Moon

O moon of the sky!
O moon of the heart!
So ordinary,
            so extraordinary in your waxing and waning.
We fail to see you boxed in our snug little houses.
We fail to know you as part of the original three—
            the Trinity of Being,
            always in relationship to the sun and the earth,
            revolving, spinning, playing with them.
You mirror our souls in their journeys, ebbing and flowing.
You cause our inner tides to stream, shimmer, and dance.
In your waxing and waning is the long Cosmic Breath.
When the cow jumped over you, she uttered her one word: MOO!
Is that why we call you “moon?”

            Barbara Schlachter

What If

What if everyone rose in the morning and sat down to pray?
What if everyone asked to be aligned with your Spirit,
to carry your peace in their hearts?
How could anyone go forth and
     cheat a business associate,
     abuse a child,
     order more weapons for war,
     ignore the hungry?
How could anyone do anything that would harm
     your holy creation—human or otherwise?
Wouldn’t we all want to hold each other and marvel— 
     at the beauty of the world,
     at the love in the heart of all mystery?

            Barbara Schlachter

Mystical Moment

Far beyond the “we” and the “they”
Far beyond the “me and the “mine,”
There is only a One.
All our little dots of self curve back to one full and perfect circle—
            The Great Miracle of Being itself.
So enjoy the bliss of sky around you,
the thrill of earth holding you.
Enjoy the dance, the daily dance
            as the sun rises and falls,
            rises and falls as surely as an ocean wave.
Let nothing stop you.
Let nothing trouble you.
Breathe it in. Dance it out.
It is all too wonderful for these words.

            Barbara Schlachter

THE CUP OF GRIEF

Drink deeply of the cup of grief
     that comes from the darkness of the well.
Drink deeply of the suffering water;
     taste the bitterness of your own small hell.

But drink steadily and more deeply still:
     find the others in the bottom of the chalice.
Taste now the compassion and the love;
     discover a unity that is peace, without malice.

What started out as only yours
     has become all of ours.
The grief, the joy are both down there;
     drink deeply of their healing powers.

Oh Godness, Oh Goodness, we praise you for those whom we have loved who have gone before us, who have shared our lives with us, who have fought the good fight and run the good race and have passed the finish line on this earth.  We give thanks that we can celebrate their lives and years with us even as we miss their earthly presence.  We thank you for this thin time of the year when they seem so close, so present, and we are reminded that of course they are present for you are always present and they are with you.  Let them know how much we love them still and always will, until we are reunited with them.  In Jesus’ Holy Name, Amen.

A Day’s Retreat

If I could change places with my dog for a day,
I would let him be my retreat director.
I would not mind so much just one bowl of food in the morning
            and one in the evening.
I would know there would be treats throughout the day
at the beginning of each period of meditation and solitude.
I would know that there would be other good things to chew on,
like the books and magazines scattered around.
And unlike many beings in the world,
I would have safe drinking water always available.

I would know that the purpose of my life was simple—
to look into the eyes of those around me with love and hope,
to look out the windows and observe carefully and respond with integrity,
to walk on the earth in my bare feet, not missing a thing,
to nap in a comfortable place when I felt like it, and
to play and enjoy pats when I had companions around me.

I would know never to worry about what to wear or
whether I would get all my work done.
I would know just to stay in the moment in all its possibility.
I would find my voice and speak when I felt called to do so.
I would know contentment.

Perhaps I should plan for such a day.
I wouldn’t really have to trade places with my dog, just do what he does.
Only I probably wouldn’t sleep quite so much and read more.
Definitely I would read more than my dog.

Do you need a dog day?

Barbara Schlachter