We pray for all
who are exposed
to winter’s cold:
people who clean the streets
people who provide essential services
people who travel
people who go to work
people who are unhoused.
Watch over all your children, God.
Move us to work for a world
where all your children
have shelter from the storms
and places and clothing to keep them warm.
We pray in the name of Jesus,
who had no place to lay his head. Amen.
Filed under Current Events, Prayer
God who loves us each,
on this night when snow is forecast for Louisville,
I pray for your beloved child Ozzy.
I am sure you know him, but just in case …
he has his name tattooed on the fingers of his left hand
and he is wearing the Steelers hat that Eric knit for me.
I pray for Ozzy.
May he have a warm and safe place
to spend this night.
May he make the connections he needs
for warmth and safety on the days ahead.
I pray for all the Ozzys –
each of your precious children
wherever they may be.
May they find safe, warm places
to stay this night and
to call home every night.
I pray for myself.
May I act in ways beyond
conversation, fist bumps, and giving a hat
to ensure safe homes for Ozzy and all your children.
In the name of Jesus, who had no place to lay his head.
Amen.
– based on a conversation today with John, “Call me Ozzy,” he said several times as he showed me his tattooed hand
Filed under Advent, Human Rights, Louisville
My fingers ache
from the cold
and for those
who cannot come in
from the cold.
My heart aches for family, friends
and people I have not met, will never meet,
who heavy loads bear:
illness and sorrow
grief, pain and worry.
My soul aches for God’s children
in this city and around the world
who endure violence,
overt or structured
this day, every day.
I ache.
And I wonder,
is there a balm?
7 January 2014
Shire Near the Hudson
Again
in the night, the fire went out.
Devoid of pity, winter
invaded the room,
assaulted my body –
my thin blanket offered little resistance.
Cold chews my knuckles,
gnaws my knees.
The weak sun forces
pale shafts of light,
but no warmth,
through the dirty window.
I faintly see my breath
as I turn my head
to gaze on gray-black ash
within the fireplace.
For a moment, I ponder:
stay put, let go, give up
Then their faces rise before me
laughing, loving faces,
gone forever yet
somehow with me always.
And for their sake,
and perhaps for my own,
I stretch my painful limbs
and force myself from the bed
to shuffle stiffly across the floor,
light the fire,
begin another day,
again.
3 December 2012
SW 208
MDW – SDF
Filed under Poem
Like a clutter of spiders,
the cold crept over him,
probing old wounds,
prodding old pains.
He stirred; but half-awake
he searched the bed.
Touching nothing,
finding no one,
he remembered, shivered,
pulled the cover tighter,
and sought again
sleep’s refuge.
18 September 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Time and again, I would return to the Shire to find that the electricity had gone out. The clocks showed me that. Power seemed somewhat fragile.
Yet two years in a row, when snow and ice sent Louisville into a deep freeze, the Shire provided shelter in the storm for me and served as a warm place of refuge for friends stranded in the city, for friends whose homes, as had many in other parts of the city, had lost power.
See you along the Trail.
The damp cold seeps
into his bones,
makes muscles ache,
and sinews moan,
Stirred by the pain,
but half awake,
he reaches out
across the grate,
hunting warmth and
seeking comfort.
Finding no one,
he sighs deeply,
shivers once, twice,
then tightly curls
into a ball,
pulls closer the
tattered blanket,
and tries to find
sleep yet once more.
1 October 2011
Wooster, Ohio
Along the Graybeard Trail 