A Blessing for Letting Go

I bless you with hands that open
under the pouring rain.

I bless you with a parchment
scraped clean, and made palimpsest ready.

I bless your old photographs,
and black and white memories.

I bless the letters you always wanted to write
to be swept up on the north wind, delivered

and the smiles long in coming
to ripple the day like tides on the shore.

I bless your soul with deep satisfaction
in the already and the not as yet.

I bless the mistakes you have made
to become for you a sage on a hill.

I bless your regrets to be your teachers
and your dreams to glow with a flame
that doesn't die out.

I bless your abundance to be generous
and your words to be good seed on the ground.

I bless your precious secrets to grow wings
and fly into the eternal light.

I bless your gifts and your talents
the hard work, and sweat of your brow.

I bless them to be taken and multiplied with always
more than enough to remain.

I bless your friendships and relationships
to oil your heritage with grace upon grace.

I bless the old conversations
to fall with leaves to the ground.

I bless you to let go of things as you
thought they would, could or should be
and surrender to ease your brow with what is.

I bless you with a celebration of wrinkles,
with the applause of a job well done.

I bless you with a laying down of what is heavy
and acceptance for what is to come.

I bless your hands to remain open
and your possessions to be weightless in your home.

I bless your palms to be willing
to receive what is on its way, a gift.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Oliver Pacas Unsplash

Where Hearts Make Gardens

You have said, Let not haste be upon you
for I've gone ahead and I've got your back.

It is the herald who will run
with the revelation.

Waiting
will make room for living.

Longing
will make room for belonging.

There has been only a whisper of wisdom
to go on.

But a whisper is what called Elijah
to the mouth of the cave.

And each breath is what carries us
from day to day.

We will not wait for the eventuality of Heaven
or for all of our dreams to come true,
only to lose sight of the door.

Because Heaven has already been planted
where hearts make gardens.

And all it takes is for us to turn the key
and we're there.

Jenneth Graser

Photography by Benjamin Combs Unsplash

Back to the Basics

There were too many ways of trying to figure everything out.
So we succumbed to the beguiling sky.
We lay under the highness of it
and waited for the first stars.

It was going back to the basics that shifted things.
It was stopping and looking.

Let God be God, they said.
And when the weather turns upon the cloud
and the horizon thrusts forth with brazened colour
when the winds thrash the sand from the shore
and the ship does not stay true to the mark
when the harbour is too far a shelter,

then we lay down and feel the earth
beneath our hearts, growing
and we watch for the garden's secrets.

We climb into the trees
and make time for silly things
that we are always too busy to make time for.

We remember that all can change in a moment
and that we cannot hold the heavy stuff
for one more minute of the day.

God, you are God in me.  You are being God in me.
And I. I am letting it rest.
No more trying, I said that the last time.
And now I mean it.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Johannes Plenio Unsplash

Space for Loving

You have always believed the best about me.
I have been cradled in faith from my birth.
Your emphasis is on what love can see.

Not on my own limitations
Or even on what I dream or envision.
When I learn to let go of what I want so badly,
My efforts drain out into your ability.

Comforter of broken passions,
Deliverer of sunken intention,
You have brought me into the space for loving.

You are weeding from me what hinders,
You sow in me what grows from faith alone.

It is better to believe and feel the blood flow through.
It is better to relinquish crusty longings.
It is better to throw off stale perspectives
To make room for what only love can do.

Jenneth Graser

Love is Never Wasted

We have opened our hands
to let go of the final precious offerings.

There is nothing left in our control.
Now the pallette is empty
for a deposit of your colour.
Now the parchment has been erased
for the readiness of your pen.

Our relationships have been
relinquished on your threshold.

Where we have been unable
to make things right,
our forgiveness may be the gift
that reconciles, or your unseen hands
may sculpt a new possibility.

Letting go may be a kite of dreams
that sets free the seeds of grace,
for in another realm we may wait to truly know
each other once again.

How many seeds are planted in love
only to bear fruit in eternity?

As many seeds we may sow
and never see the harvest this side,
may be planted in eternal realms
to become fruit for the lips of God.

Love is never wasted
and will always cause growth
hidden in our everlasting souls,
in our physical realm made manifest,
or in the Spirit, as yet unfelt, we may never know.

But we can rest in the knowledge
of love that always bears the fruits of peace
and takes what is stretched out,
our palms open as wings,
finally able to feel space enough
to take to the sky,

unencumbered by the weight of
trying to bear matters
that belong in the care of God alone.

Jenneth Graser

Photography Kyle Szegedi

A Time of Resurrection

We have set aside our treasures
and unearthed the familiar
of your voice on the pages of the Gospels
to find you in the flesh as the Son of God.

Every parable seems written with a message
reserved for our ears
to hear.

We have turned off the bright lights
and walked out of consumer packages
promising so much contentment.

We have taken in so much information
and been led to so many sources,
but we are choosing silence.

We are choosing the source of all sources
and learning to forget some new-fangled ways,
so that we can rediscover our foundation.

So that we can see the faces
waiting for our eyes.

We have held your hand on the Via Dolorosa
and cried with you and asked to bear your cross.
And you have carried our tears with each heavy load
into a time of resurrection.

Jenneth Graser

The Turning of Lenten Days

Be closer to me now dear Lord,

than at any other time.

If I pour the oils of frankincense and myrrh 

over my heart,

and step into the water living,

I will hear the questions asked

for the turning of Lenten days.

What will you relinquish?

What will you receive?

Do we fast from unforgiveness

when we see your blood on the stones 

of the stations of the cross,

blood that has paid?

Lord, I have become a listener

to every question you may ask.

I do not watch from the sidelines,

but make myself available to you.

I do not know all of the answers, yes.

But it is enough to travel the road of Lent

side by side,

and listen to each other

as those in love do.

Jenneth Graser

Lean into the Prayer That Holds Us

Silent on the still ways of wandering,
hope in the new breath that comes.

Pressed into the moments that lie before us,
we are bearing no heavy burdens today.

There are things going on everywhere we look,
much ado about so much.

The lines on our brow are a textured map
of deep thoughts, measured.

We have lifted up our hands like autumn leaves.
We have turned golden, red, and brown
under the pressure of elements that keep coming.

We are letting the things we know, drift outwards,
we are allowing our spirit to be felt and sown.

There is a kingdom within you have said
and the children inherit.

Earthly treasure cannot come close in comparison
to what is already in the field.

Would we be willing to sell all things for
such a fine pearl?

We would be willing to come if we saw you
on the horizon, beckoning.

But you have called to us from within, not far off.

It is time to rest into the kingdom you have placed here.
It is time to find the compassion that grows.
It is time to lean into the prayer that holds us.

It is the right time for such things
to bear us into your inner court.

We are the treasure you have been
waiting for.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Petra

Listen to Beautiful Jesus by Melissa Helser

I Shall Not Want

I walk the path between trees
down into the glade
and place my soul into the water there.

A river alive with stones
awash with every story of my life
flowing downwards to the sea.

I am a flower falling on the stream
and floating in spirals of letting go
as my dreams make way for you.

I am my truest self in the song David sings,
each word unveils the longing of my heart:
I shall not want.

Jenneth Graser

Image - favim.com

Places to Return To

Having left, there is no desire to return.
Cut the ties and make a run for it.

Delve head-first into a new job,
be there for your new friends.

Write a letter to the past, seal it,
as it drifts into the fireplace.
Watch it burn.

Too many post-it notes on too
many places reminding you of
things to do, places to go, people to see.

Running the rat race full throttle
into the future with both hands
making a grab for success.

It is time to face the people
you left at the threshold of the door.

Mount your horse and ride
back the way you came.

Feel the tears rise as you approach
your failures, with determination.

It is here you will learn to make
peace with yourself;
to forgive, to let resistance go
to align with grace.

Everything familiar and same old
same old, begins to recalibrate -
when you embrace what you left
behind,
in order to find everything new.

Jenneth Graser

#write31days
Day 9 Prompt - post-it

Photography - annagorin.com

Listen to "Here and Now" - Will Reagan

What Hurts and what is Healing

I find myself open to sound,
Quiet on the morning's gift.

Dancing waves of Arabic rhythm
Syncopate with the formation of
Every letter on the page.

There is forgiveness to be released.
Myself reminded, our own treasures
Grow in the blessings we bestow, unmerited.

People wait today
For art to dip into their pain with something
To show how grateful adoration
Appeases loss.

People waiting as a gift between the
Holding walls of my abode.

The gift I capture with my hands
Open wide in thanks, to let each soar away
And settle on my shoulder
Of their own free choice.

I find myself a radiant blessing on the eye's
Reflection of the man who loves me so;
He does not need reminding that his bliss is mine
And mine is to be his, always.

I find myself open, and opening wider.
I find myself new and old, both new and old.

I find myself placed, inside the place
That feels just right for me to be for
Now, alongside what hurts and is healing,

Both: what hurts and what is healing.

Jenneth Graser

Artist - Christian Schloe