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Thursday, January 31, 2013

Finding My Gold























following the whispers again
this time the whispers of "gold"

at mass monsignor talks of bringing our gifts to Jesus
our gold, our frankincense, and our myrrh 
... finding your gold...your gifts, given to you by God, 
to be given back to Him.
what is my gold i wonder?
and then he says the words from the pulpit, 
"maybe it is your creativity..."

i ponder the golden nuggets 
they stick like glitter upon my face 
after an afternoon of Christmas wrapping

my quest for the season
i gather with my creative cluster
and begin to dig deep for my gold
















Apples of Gold:
"words fitly spoken 
are like apples of gold
in pictures of silver." 
this proverb makes her presence known
from this golden book practically jumping off the shelf 
at my favorite gold and green bookstore 























words inspiring me 
to gather apples of gold for our teachers
rolling each blessing by hand
"canning" them into mason jars
with lids of silver



then He whispers again
"wrap each jar with a thread of gold."
seriously?  is that you God?
or me, obsessing again over details

i'm obedient.
i listen.
i tie each jar with a golden thread.
not knowing why
praying for each name
tagged to each jar.

still pondering what my gold could be
i look up at an unfinished painting
of three keys
hanging by golden threads
and I feel the silent whispers again in my soul
"complete her"
"add a white lace dove"
"be brave"
"donate your gold"
























"Vein of Gold: Keys to the Kingdom"
comes to life
to the online charity auction she goes

and now i ponder
its mystery
vulnerability screams
drowns out the whispers
as i watch and wait for bids
why did i bother?
i could have written a check, Lord
with a pen of golden ink
did I hear you wrong?
does any of this matter?
these little things i do
smaller than a golden thread

i look out the window
a monday morning traffic accident
stikes an iron victorian lamp post
and brings havoc to our little village
a golden ball
catches my eye
she used to sit proudly 
upon her post
now she lies broken in the street

how will they remember me?

and i look for the golden sun.
Lord Jesus, You came to the earth
as a vulnerable child
your mama held you tight
what did she whisper in your ear?
let it be your whispers i hear
deep within my soul
open my eyes to see 
and my heart to feel 
the warmth of your rays
please shine upon my gold.

-Fields of Gold, Sting 




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