Give them something to eat yourself!
But what can I offer, Lord?
I have nothing more than
Five onions and 2 Oreo biscuits.

As the day approaches, it becomes more apparent
Of my inadequacy and unpreparedness.
Haze thickened – both without and within
I gasp, I plead – desperate for a breadth of fresh air.

Strangers we arrive this morning,
Bringing our baggage and preoccupation.
Reflections we pondered thoughtfully,
Onions we peeled skeptically.
Writings we penned carefully,
Oreos we ate hungrily.
Did we share from the little we have?
Or did we give something more of ourselves?

I gave a prompt from my paper,
Only to receive sharing of vulnerabilities.
I pointed a direction ahead to go
But someone showed the way with their lives.
I read a prayer from my mind
Yet was taught how to pray with my heart.
Some rub off their joyful cheers, others displayed their creative talents.
Many shared their daily struggles, some inspired with their determination.
Did I truly give or have I received more?

What happened at the feeding of the five thousand?
Some said it was the phenomenal multiplication,
Others witnessed the generosity of hearts
As crowds that day stopped their hoarding
And shared the excess from their insecurities,
Following the Giver who shared everything he had.
Which then, was the greater miracle that took place?

Amidst our reflections, one thing is certain
We left today as pilgrims enriched and satisfied,
Picking up twelve baskets full of crumps,
Testifying to the abundance of God’s providence
We leave them again as an offering on the altar,
The Eucharist of our lives transformed
Taken, Blessed, Broken and Given
As daily food for those around us
Hungering for what we have experienced
The gift of being Bread for Others.

 

I thought of all that had been spoken

I thought of all that had been spoken but nothing came to my mind. As I lay at the hospital bed wondering what was to come, no words could comfort me.

Had I heard but not understood? Had I seen but not believed? Where can I find you among your words spoken in love? How can I find your presence when I need you most?

Alas, I thought of all that had been spoken. “Do not cling onto me” . . . as you spoke such tender words to Mary Magdalene after your resurrection. You have revealed yourself not in ways I would expect.

In my loss and emptiness, I need to trust that you are still there even when my feelings and thoughts seem to say otherwise. It is then I thought of all that had been spoken. I must ponder all these things in my heart.

Let Go

Let go, it is the hardest thing to do because the material me always wants something to grab on.
Let go, it is the hardest thing to do because the calculative me always wants to know if something better is coming my way.
Let go, it is the hardest thing to do because the rational me always demands a reason.
Let go, it is the hardest thing to do because the spiritual me invites me to die so that I may rise again.