Thomas Merton writes that contemplation does not imprison God in our own ideas of Him but “On the contrary, contemplation is carried away by Him into His own realm, His own mystery, and His own freedom.”

When I capture God
In thoughts, in words
In my own understanding
I imprison the Divine
I shrink the Omnipotent
I limit the Limitless

When God captures me
In moments of love
In experiences of wonder
I am freed
I grow beyond my self
I touch the Limitless

I got a big, bright “HI!” from a toddler in the grocery store
And I was reminded of shopping with my own toddlers greeting strangers
And I was thankful for my children.

I bought a bag of Cheetos
And I was reminded of Nancy who also likes Cheetos
Nancy and I renewed our friendship each year at the faculty picnic, over the Cheetos
And I was thankful for Nancy and my friends on the math faculty.

I walked outside and heard thunder
And I was reminded of hiking with Debbie in the Canadian Rockies
We were thankful for cooler weather for the last grueling half mile to the summit
When I looked up and saw Debbie’s hair standing out from her head
And I looked further up and understood why it had cooled off — storm clouds!
We laughed as we raced the storm down the mountain
And I was thankful for Debbie and my mountain adventures.

I deposited a check at the Instant Teller
And I remembered when we didn’t have Instant Tellers
When faxes were the big new thing
When we didn’t have internet
And I was thankful for all the conveniences in my life.

I pulled into our driveway, walked through the yard made beautiful by Woody’s love
And I thought of the more than a decade after Gordon died
And I was thankful for Woody’s love and his generous heart.

I came home to my almost 93 year old mother
And I thought of Ann and Wendy and Carol whose mothers had died
And I was thankful for my mother.

I walked downstairs
And remembered Norma moving in with me
Making bearable that move without Gordon, helping make the new house home
And I was thankful for Norma and for friends helping friends.

I thought of St. Paul
And how easy it is for me now
To pray without ceasing
In a life filled with memories and realities to be thankful for
And I wrote my thanks.

In the land of silence
Our Creator shouts justice for us
On the slippery ground
Our Redeemer’s love holds us
Through the troublesome thorns
Our Sustainer cloaks our skin
When we are homeless, defenseless
Our Lady Wisdom is our stronghold
Our rock of refuge

On a beautiful Good Friday
I quelled impatience
To get on with my own agenda
And helped Mom sort memorabilia
Stripped the bed and washed the bed linens
Went to Lowes with Woody and bought garden flowers
And child gates to keep the dogs off the deck
Visited Betty
Sitting with her as she rambled
Through the past, present and never was
Nipped the heads off spent daffodils
Answered emails, banked online, ran errands
Moved through the mundane
Sometimes conscious of the divine
Moved through the divine
Sometimes conscious that it only seemed mundane

The young child
In the pew in front of me
Plays with a small magic eraser board

As Father preaches of the waiting time
Between Ascension and Pentecost

She fills her board
With elaborating scribbles
Creating her personal message to herself

As Father preaches waiting with purpose and prayer
For the Holy Spirit

Then she slides a button
And wipes her slate clean
With no warning, no fanfare, no command

As Father preaches filling our selves, our lives
With the Holy Spirit, Christ in us

And she begins again
Intently filling all empty spaces
Randomly but not without purpose

As Father finishes, telling us by faith alone
Will the world be renewed

Her mother reaches down and slides the button
Gathering up the child and her newly blank slate
The family quietly leaves

As Father retreats behind the altar
To the bread and wine

And I wonder
When my scribbling
Is wiped clean
How quickly do I
Fill it again?