Praise said the woman, for there are always rafters and trees and eagles overhead, for there is always a voice louder than yours, for there is always someone coming alongside to prop or cackle. To rearrange.
Praise. Let Word order. Let Light penetrate. Let air and breathe coalesce to fill you with peace. You can come alongside, you can walk with me but I am only going where I am going.
Praise my journey set like exact time on a birth certificate. No one changes that. All the worry about clothes falling off and bread
and where the next drink will come. All the untouched sunrises and sets. All the moments when the Great Artist fluttered His hands and created dusk and recreated you.
Praise for the easiness of play and all the good done when I give up the doing of the hard goods. Praise for eyes that see suffering for what it is in the everywhere of every person, and no longer need to require more in the name of the Lord.
Praise the silence of true suffering. Praise the lips who move in reverence of the honest moment. Praise all generosity that arises from this place.
Praise the authentic vocabulary of belief and the speak-easy way the Psalmist’s heart topples on his page. Praise the misunderstood and the beyond- comprehension that is the mind of God and the heart of man.
Praise when we touch that, and we feel something like a bird-wing, and, cradling the unknown, we gently go on our way.