First, I start with poetry. This morning’s poem is “Not Like A Dove,” by Mary F.C. Pratt, and here she is describing the Holy Spirit as something scary; something that “take[s] our treasures” for its “glittering hoard,” and I consider that perhaps our treasures are nothing unless the Holy Spirit has a hold of it – her claws around what I think is mine.
I like this poem. I like that it doesn’t describe the Holy Spirit as peaceful or something comforting. Instead, it’s powerful, dangerous, assaulting, even.
I push the poem aside, pick up my coffee mug, and move my Bible toward me. Hadley is sitting across from me and her eyes are almost glaring at me. Waiting? Wondering? Lost in thought? I look at her for a moment and ask with my mouth on the brim of my coffee cup, “What’s next?”
She scoots off her chair taking her juice with her in one fluid moment.
“I’m gonna drink my juice and sit on your lap.”
But I want to sit and think about this poem. Why is the Holy Spirit described as a dangerous predator that comes unexpectedly into our lives, taking all that we treasure? Why does the poet invite the Holy Spirit to do that?
Why is, in this moment sitting with my coffee cup, journal, Bible, this poem – all of it open, all of it ready for me – more important than my child sitting on my lap, her hair tangling up with mine, and she squeezes herself into me as though she’s trying to re-enter my womb?
-taken from a journal entry – August 19, 2011
I love this!
This is good. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I struggle when my son wants to sit on my lap when I’m reading my Bible and/or journaling. It makes it so much harder. But isn’t that what we are supposed to do – love others and be an example? What a perfect way to do that. At least that’s what I remind myself.