As we continue to struggle with isolation, fears surrounding Covid-19, too much information, the lack of information, and misinformation I offer this prayer as we all journey the road together.
Ruth Jewell, ©April 28, 2020
Photo: Bryce Thompson Arboretum, Arizona, 2005, by Ruth Jewell.
Today, I went into the woods
cool shadows covered me
soft breezes kissed me
my footsteps muffled by last year’s leaves
I breathe deeply
scents of leaf, violet, and damp earth surround me
robin, finch, and woodpecker serenade me
rabbit, doe, and fox walk beside me.
I walked in the woods today
creation sang her glory
life in all her splendor surrounded me
The Creator held me in her arms
Ruth Jewell, ©April 14, 2020
Photo: The Guardian of the Woods
The Doctor sits beside the empty bed
respirator and tubing all about
bags and bandages clutter the floor
tired, so tired, she weeps
tears fall on the rumpled sheets
I couldn’t save her
she couldn’t breathe
I tried, Oh I tried so hard
She gasped her last
She said “thank you.”
Ruth Jewell, ©April 8, 2020
Today is a Palm Sunday unlike those we’ve ever had before. However, sometime the Creator tells us to take a moment to remember that in the universe, and world we create together, things often go awry. Nature has her own way of being and we have ours and it is in the balance between the two that we find life. Yet in all of the chaos of life we are not alone. They/Them will not let us travel this road alone, the creator is always walking along beside us, just like the shepherd is always with his flock.
This poem was written by my Grandfather during the height of the depression, another time of crises and chaos. May it bring you peace during this Holy Week.
In pastures green? Not always:
Sometimes thou who knoweth best,
In kindness leadeth me
In weary ways,
Where heavy shadows be.
And by still waters? No, not always so:
Oft times the heavy tempests
Round me blow
And o’er my soul
The waves and billows go.
But where the storm beats loudest,
And I cry aloud for help,
Thou standeth by,
And whispers to my soul
“Lo, it is I.”
So where He leads me I can safely go,
And in the blest here after
I shall know,
Why, in His wisdom,
He hath led me so
Rufus G. Miller, written 1936, ©Ruth Jewell, April 16, 2013
(My grandfather loved roses, and the rose picture is one I took at Buchart Gardens Vancouver Island BC, in 2016)
(Rufus Miller was my grandfather and a poet. My mother found this written on the back of a 1936 bulletin from the Christian Temple, Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Lorain, Ohio in about 1962, among the belongings of my grandmother, Edith Miller, following her death.)
I thought I saw you
down there at the end of the lane.
Was it you I saw
holding a violet to you breast?
Was it you I saw
gazing into the distant hills
with such a far away look?
Were you waiting
for someone you love
to come and hold you?
I thought I saw you
down there at the end of the lane.
Was it you with tears
filling your eyes?
Did I see you reach
into emptiness hoping
someone would reach back?
I thought I saw you
down there at the end the lane
waiting for someone.
I saw you kneel in the grass
with violets all around and
I watched you pray.
As you stand and walk away
I prayed for you.
My spirit reaches out to you,
surrounding you, supporting you,
loving you, sending your heart strength.
It is all I have to offer
I cannot promise
all will be well.
I can only watch and guard.
I can only send courage and walk with you,
wait with you.
I cannot give you all you want.
All I can give, from my end of the lane,
is love and hope.
Ruth Jewel, ©March 16, 2020
Photo: The Guardian of the Woods
. . . Long ago, Long ago
Long ago this was a great house of worship
Men came from far and wide
To hear powerful leaders speak of God
. . . Today, Today
Today I am old and only my bones remain
The grass, the flowers, the trees worship here now
Fox, and mice, and birds all congregate
. . . Now, Now
Now sermons are the gentle whispers of wind and rain
Mice lead with tiny voiced prayers
Wrens lead a choir of sparrows and finches
. . . Prayer, Prayer’s
No more the loud prayers for men’s pride
Now there is a gentle offering of gratitude and
The Creator’s voice, the world’s hope, and the prayer for another day
Ruth Jewell, ©March 9, 2020
Photo: The Guardian of the Woods, March 3, 2020
I sat in the rocking chair
scent of roses fill the air
hummingbirds flit from bloom to bloom
soft insect sounds sing me to sleep
softly, so softly, the spirit comes
I am here, creator speak
in my heart I hear your whispers
You sing me into being
Ruth Jewell, ©March 5, 2020
Photo: The Guardian of the Woods
Mark 10:46-52
46 They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.
I love Bartimaeus and have gained insight from his persistence in his call to Jesus. Yet, I often wonder if most people who use the prayer understand its implications. The story itself has many layers. The blind Bartimaeus had a strength we often do not have.
First, the story takes place after Jesus has made his 3rd prediction of his coming death and has turned toward Jerusalem. As Jesus and the disciples leave Jericho Bartimaeus calls until Jesus acknowledges him from there the real meat of the story happens. Bart is calling at a critical time as Jesus is now focused on what will happen in Jerusalem. Yet, Jesus stops and answers Bart’s call. I am reminded of all the times I have called on Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit and wonder if I too have made my petition at an inopportune time. It is a grace that Jesus responds to Bart. This gives me hope.
Second, Jesus doesn’t just heal him rather, Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants from Him. Bart must articulate, say out loud, he wants to see. Bart must not only admit his need he must believe in the words Jesus will speak. It is in Bart’s belief in Jesus that he is made to see. He sees not just the world around him but the truth of what he sees. It has always been hard for me to speak my needs. I am always afraid I will be ridiculed or told that what I need is not important. I admit that my belief hasn’t always been as strong as Bart’s was that day in Jericho. Opening my heart and soul to my Creator has not been easy. But, I am a work in progress and I do believe the Holy Spirit is patient with me.
But there is one more piece that is often lost, Bart follows Jesus. Does he follow Him all the way to the end and the resurrection, we don’t know? But in the question and answer of the story, and the following the path that the story takes real meaning. We can ask for mercy, but what do we really want from Jesus. Bart followed Jesus on a difficult path, a road that led to Crucifixion, and yes, resurrection. But also, much pain and suffering. We don’t know if Bart stayed the course. I would like to think he did. But it gives me pause to think when I offer this prayer, what will I do when I am offered the opportunity to see.
Ruth Jewell, ©February 27, 2020
Photo: unknown, (this was sent to me as is, if you know the author please let me know)
O to sit again under the flowering apple tree,
to smell the sweet fragrance,
and to hear the bee busy in the blossom.
The quiet meditation of pink and white
fills me with joy
and sings in my heart.
Ruth Jewell, ©February 25, 2020
Photo: The Guardian of the Woods
16 When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. 17 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
18 “A voice was heard in Ramah,
wiling and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
— Matthew 2:16-18
I wonder at the gospel writer was the death of children so common place he only needed three verses Children, a gift of God dead and no one cared When will we learn when will we cherish God’s gift not yesterday not today Tomorrow? Children, a gift of God mistreated and no one cared Children torn from their parents placed in schools beaten for who they are lost culture, lost name lost selves Children, a gift of God abused, dead, and no one cares Children torn from their parents placed in cages left to die of illness, neglect used by guards for their sick means crying, beaten, refused comfort, dead on floors Children, a gift of God lost, hungry, alone and no one cares When will we learn when will we cherish God’s gift not yesterday not today Tomorrow? I wonder at the gospel writer was the death of children so common place he only needed three verses Ruth Jewell, ©December 28, 2019
Image: 10th– Century Illuminated Manuscript, Kerald_(Meister_des_Codex_Egberti)_001
A Quiet Walk 