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Daily blogging continues building a foundation within my psyche, intimately related to living with terminal illness. Still far from its acceptance, I am no longer at odds with it, even name fresh insights into this mystery, grace. Each day that passes, the urgency to compose deepens as I discover my authentic self for the first time in my life. Curious, that I never have to root around for something to write about. It just comes.

Such requires listening for precise words at any time of day or night, entering them into my word processor, revising phrases and punctuation for more effectiveness, and scrapping drafts of pieces in favor of more exact renderings. Such requires a consciousness that I rarely activated before the onset of my terminal illness, and with it, a strange energy that sustains my chronic fatigue.

As months pass I’m aware of having discarded concepts, attitudes, and some behaviors that no longer serve me. Upon this foundation-in-process, I stand with a newfound confidence and consider my end time; I discern and welcome Precious God’s coaching from significant others, from dreams, and from CPA’s 12 Step work with my sponsor. Daily, I surrender the outcome.

In this process, Jesus’s parable about foundations also speaks to me. He likened persons who came to him, listened to his words, and acted upon them to builders securing their homes upon rock beds, lest floods destroy them: to accomplish this, they had to dig very deep. Some mornings beyond exhaustion, I still compose, but lean heavily upon my foundation teeming with Light.

And another blog happens for my ongoing instruction. My gratitude is boundless.

 

 

Like summer sprinkles, warm feelings soothed me as I awoke to this morning’s dream and recorded it:

I’m homebound as I await knee surgery. A dear friend comes by with her black and white shaggy-haired dog. Immediately, the dog approaches me, nuzzles her head against my thigh. I lean over and stroke her soft head. She squeals with delight. I also learn of a heavily researched series featuring Jesus of Nazareth. It will be filmed in the Holy Land near the time of my surgery. I’m very excited. Not wanting to miss a single program, I inform my surgeon and his nurse.

My scheduled knee surgery suggests a correction of my hobbled spirit stunned by the global pandemic and glitches of my terminal illness; it attracts my Dreamer’s intervention to repair the corresponding disconnect within my psyche. Such is the mystery of its on-going care.

The dear friend, a carrier of the Sacred Feminine, suggests hands-on relating: both her soulful presence and her black and white shaggy-haired dog disrupt my brain fog and restore feelings. With her pet, I also squeal, and the fissures in my psych coalesce into wholeness. Yet, there is still more healing.

Jesus of Nazareth appears stirring dormant passions: Long an integral part of my spiritual landscape, especially during Gloucester directed retreats, I heed the call to reopen the gospels and interface them, anew, with my end time.

And the Holy Land, imaging Creator God’s continuous action in time/space, bespeaks the planet Earth in the throes of turmoil. This will work out, with valuable life lessons for all.

Gratitude to my Dreamer streams from my depths, keeps me humble. On my own, such repairs are impossible.

 

 

In heart-heaviness, we cry out:

Our Father—We seek the center-point of your stillness within our depths and silence clamoring instincts.

 who art in heaven—In faith, we engage our spirits within the realm of the Sacred and remember.

 Hallowed be your name— Palms outstretched, we prostrate ourselves before your inexplicable holiness and listen and wait.

Thy Kingdom come—We yearn for color-flushes/grace that alone eradicate global manipulation and gutting of psyches.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven—We surrender anew to this empowerment: its multifaceted energy incorporates us within Creative Word in which all life hums in multiple expanding universes.

Give us this day our daily bread—We yearn for spiritual sustenance, one day at a time, which steadies tentative steps across rocky terrains, which embolden hearts to embrace the untried, the unspoken.

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us—We own our violence to ourselves and beg forgiveness. We also forgive others and repair rifts in the social fabric. Our part does matter.

And lead us not into temptation—We beg for discipline to listen for true guidance, often communicated in subtle whispers.

Deliver us from evil—We pray for discernment to unmask the allure of evil in its multiple disguises, especially in group-think.

For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, both now and forevermore—We thrive within this color-fresh vision, despite the cloying darkness and disease that still surround us. We have the protection—we have nothing to fear.

Amen—And so it is.

 

 

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