Calm

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© Kimberly Jasper 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

Taken from Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, a hymn with words taken from the poem The Brewing of Soma by John Greenleaf Whittier.

Pentecost

O Spirit of the living God,

thou light and fire divine,

descend upon thy church once more,

and make it truly thine.

Fill it with love and joy and power,

with righteousness and peace;

till Christ shall dwell in human hearts,

and sin and sorrow cease.

Henry H. Tweedy, 1933

Ascension Sunday

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© Kimberly Jasper 2016 All Rights Reserved

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” 

Acts 1:6-11 NRSV

For All

As I have read the Gospels over the years, the belief has grown in me that Christ did not come to found an organized religion but came instead to found an unorganized one. He seems to have come to carry religion out of the temples into the fields and sheep pastures, onto the roadsides and the banks of the rivers, into the houses of sinners and publicans, into the town and the wilderness, toward the membership of all that is here. Well, you can read and see what you think.

from Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry

Kindred

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The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth (1503, Mariotto Albertinelli) Web Gallery of Art

Over the past week or so, I’ve been struggling with what I can only describe as an intensely suffocating sadness. And as much as I’ve tried to talk to others about it, I know there’s only one other person in my world who knows exactly how I feel.

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Trust

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude

Holy Moments

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© Kimberly Jasper – All Rights Reserved 2016

Twenty-seven years ago today was my mother’s funeral. Simply put, I thought I was going to die, too. But I had a little one of my own that needed her mother, so I kept getting up and going on. Some days, that was the extent of it. But as time moved on, I discovered that I wasn’t quite so sad all the time. I found myself quoting some of my mother’s funniest sayings, cooking her old recipes, and telling some of her best stories. As soon as I was able to do all that without bawling, it seemed like she was back with me. After all these years, it’s still like she’s physically present at those moments when memory intersects with everyday life, and heaven is present on earth. I love you, Mom.