From the Hospital Window

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I stand at the wide glass window.
Behind me, my son sleeps
in a hospital bed.
My son will be fine—
I am confident of that—
but at the moment,
he is not fine,
so I am not fine either.
I hurt at his pain;
my heart cracks with his cries;
I pray when he hasn’t the will
or the faith
to pray.
This present moment,
the Now
is supposed to be a time and place
of meditation and peace.
But this Now, this present moment
bites me.
I look out this wide window
across buildings and treetops.
I see beyond this moment of pain
that curls him inward,
calls all his attention
to a deep
abyss,
and I think even God must cry
at least a little bit every day,
for there’s so much to cry about.
I take a deep breath of treetop and sky
and determine to be a source of peace
for my son
just as friends who text me
are a source of peace for me.
This peace connects us
like an invisible, strong thread,
stitching up our cracked hearts
with every color
warm and cool,
joyful and sad,
sometimes glinting with our tears
and God’s too.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Why I Need My Garden

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

In the window

above my kitchen sink,

one golden bloom rises on a

toothpick-thin stem

in a tiny pottery vase.

A black-eyed Susan.

I lean closer,

admire her petals,

her dark brown center.

It’s like looking into the smile of God.

Outdoors, pink coneflowers sway

beside magenta coleus leaves

blanket-stitched along the edges

in bright yellow-green.

The smile of God.

Yellow gazania bloom bright,

happily resilient in the heat.

Red-purple impatiens overspread their pot,

preferring the shade.

The smile of God.

I also know the tears of God.

Anyone with eyes to see

and an open heart

feels the sadness,

knows the tears.

So many.

Too many.

That’s why I need my garden—

gazania and impatiens,

cornflower and coleus,

black-eyed Susans.

They remind me

that God does smile.

They give me hope

that we, too—

all shapes, colors, and

types of us—

can flower and flourish

in beauty and peace.

If only we will.

We, too, can be the smile of God.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Nature. Art. God.

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“The course of Nature is the art of God.”

– Edward Young –

Linger,

heart open,

intent on the smallest bit

of nature’s art—

a pebble,

a butterfly,

a bud,

raindrops;

let wonder widen,

dreams deepen,

hopes stretch and soar

up and out and into

the eternal mystery

that many call

God.

–KH

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

The Shadow of God

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Love beauty;

it is the shadow of God on the universe.”

– Gabriela Mistral –

Nurture peace. Cultivate kindness. Carry the calm.

Nature of the week – comfrey blooms:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

God

From the Hospital Window

Why I Need My Garden

Nature. Art. God.

The Shadow of God