On Thanksgiving Day

 

This has been a busy week for our family. The Thanksgiving service at the Mission followed by the dinner served to our homeless neighbors, plans for our son's soon graduation, the homeless ladie's Christmas Tea coming up next week and yesterday- my mother's passing. Busy and hard. Bitter and sweet. The cares of this life and the freedom of the next. Jesus every moment. The Friend Who Sticks.

I am sitting in my brocade chair with a tummy full of Chinese take out. (Shades of A Christmas Story). I am remembering who Christ has become to me over all these years since my soul was invited in off the street and found a home in Him. Heaven may have a word to describe that heart-melding but just now words fail me for the wonder of it.

As I read over an older post from Thanksgiving a few years ago, just for the comfort of it, I was filled with such a sense of His endless, boundless, simple goodness in loving me. He loves you that same way.

Here is dessert on this Thanksgiving Day. May your heart overflow. Follow the link below.

-kl 

http://iamcallingshotgun.blogspot.com/2011/11/his-sea-bed-is-love-without-end.html

Singing To The Morning

Singing To The Morning

I leave behind

the familiar colors

the heart-stirring scents

of life lived under the blue sky

under clouds bleeding rain

under snow and shadow

I have become every color

light layered upon light

transparent, immediate-

a perfumed sunrise

singing to the Morning

-Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia

In memory of the Homegoing

of Aaron Lorentzen's grandmother

Just Glorious, Oil by Diane Morgan

(Since I had written this my own mother has made the journey to Eternity. May His Perpetual Light shine upon her. -kl)

Ascent

Ascent

I wind my way   

to the top of the stairs

to a secret place

where prayers await

discovery

They do not come

out of me,

these supplications,

but cling to me there

like field seeds

to feral fur;

left behind by other

penitents or angels;

mice in corners

chanting to the One

The earth is full of

unspoken adoration

waiting to be ours

for the climb

-Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia 

http://photoreflect.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/rushton-triangular-lodge.html

Willow

 

Willow

Fall's breath frosting leaves
she folds her hands to pray

Pale sunlight catches her
transforming aspect

The world in light or gray
belongs to the Creator

The One who dreamed
of willows dreams of me

So I fold my hands
as perfect as her branches

and chant in frost or sun
a litany of praise

-kl

 

            From you comes the theme of my praise...Psalm 22:25 NIV

                    http://www.flickr.com/photos/10126457@N07/8201412296/