In these turbulent times as the USA celebrates the Thanksgiving holiday, one could readily ask: “Grateful for what?” Jan Richardson suggests there’s a lot, if we will gather up the fragments. (Such things as selfless caring, compassion, & resilience hiding among society’s disturbing situations.)
“Blessing the Fragments” by Jan Richardson
(Used with permission of the author: © Jan Richardson from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief. janrichardson.com)
He told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments
left over, so that nothing may be lost.” –John6:12
Cup your hands together,
and you will see the shape
this blessing wants to take.
Basket, bowl, vessel:
it cannot help but
hold itself open
to welcome
what comes.
This blessing
knows the secret
of the fragments
that find their way
into its keeping,
the wholeness
that may hide
in what has been
left behind,
the persistence of plenty
where there seemed
only lack.
Look into the hollows
of your hands
and ask what wants to be
gathered there,
what abundance waits
among the scraps
that come to you,
what feast
will offer itself
from the pieces
that remain.
I suggest that you first gather the difficulties that distressed you in recent months. After this, search to find their positive scraps—such as unexpected kindness and helpful insights—hidden among those unwanted experiences. Give thanks to the Giver of Gifts for whatever fragments of you find.
Abundant peace,
Joyce Rupp
“Gratitude For The Little Moments,”
Joyce Rupp
Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.
And be it gash or gold, it will not come
Again in this identical disguise.”
~Gwendolyn Brooks
gratitude, yes,
for all the big things
that stand tall,
thick with abundance,
joy, fruitfulness.
I cannot help
but applaud
their presence.
but deep thankfulness
for the bite-sized
pieces of my life?
I had not thought of them,
those little snippets of time
so easily consumed
in the hurry and blur
of pretentious days.
the little moments,
assumed and presumed,
slip quickly through
the fingers of my busy life.
November gestures
with a wrinkled brown hand,
beckons me wisely
to consider
those fleeing moments of grace
in things quickly passing:
a walk on a musky-wooded path,
a cup of coffee silently savored,
a birdsong in the squeaky hours of dawn,
the gentle touch of a liver-spotted hand,
a loving letter from a grateful stranger,
a fading crescent moon in a royal blue sky.
I turn to gather
finely layered remnants like these
in the come and go of my days,
and discover, with surprise,
how quickly my inner room
is a harvest place of gold.
(From: Out of the Ordinary: Prayers, Poems, and Reflections for Every Season, Joyce Rupp. Ave Maria Press)[/no_image_with_text]
