Mist and Meadow.
Moods are mist. Grace clears them.
These moods that come upon me and sit like thick mist —
shine upon me, your sun,
burn away my woeful ways
and leave a meadow of plenty, grasses waving and birds singing.
❖
If my thoughts are twisted,
I cannot think my way into straightness.
If my body is wracked,
I cannot will myself into health.
❖
Heal my mind,
my body,
my heart, dear Lord.
Deliver me.
– from the mountain
Consider:
What is the mist that lingers in me—and what would it take to let the sun through?
Reading:
“God is not elsewhere. He is here.” — Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God, (1692)
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