I am sure I have labored here before and danced when the day's job was done. All my introductions and welcomes rush into the past where smiles and laughter hide in plain sight and affirm that I feel right about the decisions which I have made. Some places and some times have been better for me than others where I felt less than myself. Returning home I find all the love that I love dressed up and ready to go to worship.
Tag Archives: Work
Rather than Work
Rather than Work - let us talk rainbows - no - not talk but throw colors on paper never seen before - so that even the eyes of the little ones go wide - such a display and no amount of Labor - nor work at the highest wage - could bring down from the Heavens - the perfect crescent kaleidoscope
“Where do we learn to work like this?”
From Sisyphus and his endless, uphill rock-rolling where we end up tired as the smell of last night’s cod hanging in the kitchen or done like a dung beetle after rolling the last dung ball of the day. Imagine letting the ball fall and go rolling into the sea where ocean waves release upon the shore like the unclenching of a fist that has unlearned the slow steps of a pallbearer treading again and again upon the sacred ways, red as worn, sanctuary carpet in the morning light. To skip like a flower girl throwing rose petals left and right and into the face of the ring-bearer who carries his symbol of infinite love, careful not to let it drop and bust, a shattered jar of rainbow-colored gumballs, where chance could have them bounce and reel under a pew and disturb the slow, rolling of bones turning over in the graves of hard-working saints, long-dead and gone.
Like Sisyphus
I learned to work like this from Sisyphus who, tired as a dung beetle after rolling the last dung ball of the day up its small food hill, let his ball go rolling into the sea where ocean waves like eyelids rose and fell, leaking salty tears upon the feet of the child who trembled like the slow, roll of bones turning over in graves of saints long-dead and gone, never to tread again upon the sacred ways, red as worn, sanctuary carpet in the morning light.
“Whoever observes the wind will not sow; and whoever regards the clouds will not reap.” – Ecclesiastes 11:4
Worker of Wonders and Wonder, who moves as wind through Chaos and who fills the skies with cloud-shapes, we lie awake in torment guessing with thought, Will the coming day be a day for sowing or a day for reaping? Make whatever work we choose be fruitful and may we have fruit as the wind whispers and the clouds roll. Amen.