It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
This poem is one of my favorites by the poet and Episcopalian, Mary Oliver. I’ve been thinking about it this week as I’ve been preparing for my parish’s Day of Pentecost celebration on May 20th, when one of the readings, from Romans 8, includes one of my all-time favorite passages in Scripture:
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. (vv. 26-27)
The photo is one of several I’ve taken this past week or so. As I’ve driven up my street after days that have felt long and a bit stressful, as a crazy busy schedule with a new job can often feel, I have noticed the daffodils and other spring flowers blooming in my yard. And I’ve felt my heart sing and realized I have a big, goofy smile on my face. All the thoughts I’ve been ruminating about, all the cares and concerns of my heart and my mind, seem to fade away in that good and life-giving way that is gratitude and a sense of abundant blessings. As I have driven up the street and caught my first glimpse of the simple beauty of spring flowers, it is if God is saying, “This. This is what you need. This. Just this.”
God is right, as God is. This is what I need. I need to feel less burdened as I move from work-me to home-me, as I move from bi-vocational-me to just-me. I need to be reminded of the importance of being present to the beauty and grace that surrounds me. Mostly, I need to know that Paul and Mary Oliver are right: God does not need me to pray with special words. God desires simply that I pray as I am.