For the archer
I've always had
A vivid, over-active imagination.
Daydreams occupy my time
During mundane tasks
Like doing dishes or riding the train.
When I was a kid,
Fantasy stories and adventures
Would dance through my mind.
As I became older,
The daydreams became more down-to-earth,
And sometimes much darker or sinister
Depending upon the seasons of my life,
But they have never, ever left me.
Robert Foster talks about
The role that imagination can play
In prayer life.
You have given us imaginations;
Why, then, should we not put them
To use in service to You,
And in service to each other?
In my mind's eye, I see...
In the spiritual realm,
The AZ house looks like a
Radiant, dome-shaped sphere,
A halo of light encompassing
The physical structures of
House and cars and
Ficus tree and backyard.
Pulses of radiance shoot out of the house,
A hidden nexus of Love and Light
Traveling along ethereal axons,
Binding us to God
And one another.
This is our earthly home,
An earthly temple of unlikely compatriots,
Bound together
In ways unseen,
For purposes yet to be revealed.
It is dawn.
I see the Anointed One
Coming down the street,
Approaching the house
With a gentle, purposeful stride.
Fingertips of soft translucence
Bathe the ground and air,
Enlivening the bushes and flowers,
The earth and cacti.
The environment hums aloud the scripture
"All things were made through him,
and without him was not any thing made that was made." *
He enters the house.
Gabrielle and Fifi toss in their sleep,
Sensing his Numinous Presence.
The king doesn't know that
The King is leaning over his shoulder,
Reading his e-mail,
Tweaking the universe so that
Another eBay sale is closed,
And another client seeks out his skills.
The birds in the birdie room
Stir into parrot semi-consciousness.
They bow in silence to the East,
Hailing the morning and the King,
Hearing in their hollow bones
Echoes from the primordial past,
The cycles and rhythms of life
Authored by the Holy One downstairs.
In the master bedroom, Adalheid is asleep.
The hub of the house's aura,
The Anointed One infuses her
With divine energies, healing powers,
Insight, strength, endurance,
Cosmic protection and intervention.
Downstairs, the wandering momma
Sleeps like a dead weight.
He peeks in on her,
Sifting through the amyloid plaques
With a thought and a breath of peace.
Today will be an okay day for her.
Simba emerges from my bedroom,
Greeting the King with a loud purr.
He walks before Him into the den,
Leading Him to the archer
Who is asleep on the comfy, brown couch.
My beloved archer,
Another initiate into our ragtag band of
A family of friends...
Drawn by threads of Love and Fate that,
For all we know,
Have been sewn
Since the foundations of the world were laid.
In spirit,
I am seated on the cuddler.
I have been waiting to speak with Him about her.
He turns, sees me, and softly smiles.
I smile back,
Feeling some of the heaviness in me lift.
There is a pregnant pause.
I seek words.
I seek passages to express
What my human mind grapples with.
I thumb through Romans,
And finally find what I'm looking for.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. **
He hears me read the passage in my mind,
And nods.
"Please..." I mumble aloud,
My one word request encompassing
All my pleading and emotion and thought...
Everything in me lensing to a laser-like point
Focused on the healing of the archer
After last week's car accident.
"I know You spared her," I say,
"And I and everyone else are so
Thankful and grateful that you did.
Now, I ask You to mend her,
Body and soul.
Restore her to wholeness,
Our Lord and Healer!"
The prayer rises up my spine,
And out the crown of my head,
Tingling in that way it does
When the Holy Spirit is at work in me.
The Anointed One sits on the piece of couch
Between the couch's edge and the archer's pillow.
She lightly stirs, her arm flung in sleep over her eyes.
He brushes her hair back from her forehead,
And I watch the healing-filled Light
Escaping His fingertips...
I watch the Hands that made her
Slowly bring down her body's inflammation...
He soothes away her troubled sleep,
Reigning in her fears and misgivings
Beneath His glorious cloak.
He exhales a deep breath,
Controlling a steady flow of
Physical and spiritual energies
That are repairing the archer
From the inside out.
He tenderly kisses her forehead,
And there is an easing, a slight release
Of the pain from the concussion.
"Humans take time to heal,"
He reminds me.
I take it as a word of assurance,
And a call to patience and continued prayer.
I feel confidence renewed within my soul.
I feel my spirit overflow
In praise and worship.
O, my Lord God,
Creator and Healer,
Whose touch heals so many
And even raises the dead,
Hear my ardent prayer,
And grant that it may be so!...
*John 1:3
**Romans 8:26-30
I've always had
A vivid, over-active imagination.
Daydreams occupy my time
During mundane tasks
Like doing dishes or riding the train.
When I was a kid,
Fantasy stories and adventures
Would dance through my mind.
As I became older,
The daydreams became more down-to-earth,
And sometimes much darker or sinister
Depending upon the seasons of my life,
But they have never, ever left me.
Robert Foster talks about
The role that imagination can play
In prayer life.
You have given us imaginations;
Why, then, should we not put them
To use in service to You,
And in service to each other?
In my mind's eye, I see...
In the spiritual realm,
The AZ house looks like a
Radiant, dome-shaped sphere,
A halo of light encompassing
The physical structures of
House and cars and
Ficus tree and backyard.
Pulses of radiance shoot out of the house,
A hidden nexus of Love and Light
Traveling along ethereal axons,
Binding us to God
And one another.
This is our earthly home,
An earthly temple of unlikely compatriots,
Bound together
In ways unseen,
For purposes yet to be revealed.
It is dawn.
I see the Anointed One
Coming down the street,
Approaching the house
With a gentle, purposeful stride.
Fingertips of soft translucence
Bathe the ground and air,
Enlivening the bushes and flowers,
The earth and cacti.
The environment hums aloud the scripture
"All things were made through him,
and without him was not any thing made that was made." *
He enters the house.
Gabrielle and Fifi toss in their sleep,
Sensing his Numinous Presence.
The king doesn't know that
The King is leaning over his shoulder,
Reading his e-mail,
Tweaking the universe so that
Another eBay sale is closed,
And another client seeks out his skills.
The birds in the birdie room
Stir into parrot semi-consciousness.
They bow in silence to the East,
Hailing the morning and the King,
Hearing in their hollow bones
Echoes from the primordial past,
The cycles and rhythms of life
Authored by the Holy One downstairs.
In the master bedroom, Adalheid is asleep.
The hub of the house's aura,
The Anointed One infuses her
With divine energies, healing powers,
Insight, strength, endurance,
Cosmic protection and intervention.
Downstairs, the wandering momma
Sleeps like a dead weight.
He peeks in on her,
Sifting through the amyloid plaques
With a thought and a breath of peace.
Today will be an okay day for her.
Simba emerges from my bedroom,
Greeting the King with a loud purr.
He walks before Him into the den,
Leading Him to the archer
Who is asleep on the comfy, brown couch.
My beloved archer,
Another initiate into our ragtag band of
A family of friends...
Drawn by threads of Love and Fate that,
For all we know,
Have been sewn
Since the foundations of the world were laid.
In spirit,
I am seated on the cuddler.
I have been waiting to speak with Him about her.
He turns, sees me, and softly smiles.
I smile back,
Feeling some of the heaviness in me lift.
There is a pregnant pause.
I seek words.
I seek passages to express
What my human mind grapples with.
I thumb through Romans,
And finally find what I'm looking for.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. **
He hears me read the passage in my mind,
And nods.
"Please..." I mumble aloud,
My one word request encompassing
All my pleading and emotion and thought...
Everything in me lensing to a laser-like point
Focused on the healing of the archer
After last week's car accident.
"I know You spared her," I say,
"And I and everyone else are so
Thankful and grateful that you did.
Now, I ask You to mend her,
Body and soul.
Restore her to wholeness,
Our Lord and Healer!"
The prayer rises up my spine,
And out the crown of my head,
Tingling in that way it does
When the Holy Spirit is at work in me.
The Anointed One sits on the piece of couch
Between the couch's edge and the archer's pillow.
She lightly stirs, her arm flung in sleep over her eyes.
He brushes her hair back from her forehead,
And I watch the healing-filled Light
Escaping His fingertips...
I watch the Hands that made her
Slowly bring down her body's inflammation...
He soothes away her troubled sleep,
Reigning in her fears and misgivings
Beneath His glorious cloak.
He exhales a deep breath,
Controlling a steady flow of
Physical and spiritual energies
That are repairing the archer
From the inside out.
He tenderly kisses her forehead,
And there is an easing, a slight release
Of the pain from the concussion.
"Humans take time to heal,"
He reminds me.
I take it as a word of assurance,
And a call to patience and continued prayer.
I feel confidence renewed within my soul.
I feel my spirit overflow
In praise and worship.
O, my Lord God,
Creator and Healer,
Whose touch heals so many
And even raises the dead,
Hear my ardent prayer,
And grant that it may be so!...
*John 1:3
**Romans 8:26-30
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