We have walked the peaks and valleys of life’s ebbs and flows,
through the gasping highs and the aching lows
and all those things that lie between
the knowing of strength and the finding of grace.
Whether looking out over miles of mountain meadows
or stepping face first into the shadows of a moon so full
it seems to sag the sky and pull us so near
we could hear the sounds of stars singing,
We may believe it is this bringing of wonder
that makes us think we could walk right over yonder ridge,
stride bridges and rivers, walk right up
and well shake hands with the Giver of Life.
In darker moments, the knife and hammer of those ebbs and lows
come piercing and pounding right through our knowing
and the dark-bellied aches seem to stack up like storming clouds
until they shroud the sun in cold layers of bruising wind
And the thinness of our own faith cuts right through us.
Somehow through this comes a faint and comforting sound
that sifts through the surrounding aloneness,
finds us and reminds us that even in this
We are not left on our own to drift through the mist and pain,
that there is gain even in loss and all the dross of darkness
must be driven loose in the refining furnace
until what is pure and good and lasting
Can be fully burnished until we are polished in the glow
of Knowing As Being Known.
Until then, being readied by the Hand of a Better World
we may better live in this one.
Instead of on the mountain, we may stand at the sink
with one hand wet and one hand dry,
and come to think with a soft and warming sigh
that even a drink of cold water is better given from a clean cup,
lifted up in love.