Cynosure:
something that provides guidance (as Polaris guides mariners);
"let faith be your cynosure to walk by"
This is a great word chosen by
Junebug this week! Lots of food for thought. Click over to
her place to find more interpretations.
It was pretty easy to decide what direction this word would take me this week - my faith in God and Jesus Christ is my cynosure. But I didn't know what
exactly to write or draw, but today I decided on this girl. She looks rather pensive, don't you think? And
cynosure is a very "pensive" word.
Then I thought I'd also include this prose-poem that reflects a bit of my faith. It's a poem I started a year ago and came across again just a few days ago. I finished it today. The poem is about a specific day - a day when I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that one of my closest friends, a woman who had been a mother to me, was going to die soon. I didn't talk a lot about her or her illness on this blog. It was a hard yet beautiful thing to walk with her while she was dying. I'm grateful to her for letting me share it - and for allowing me to learn from her and to see just a bit more of God. And grateful to God for giving the grace to get through it. She's been gone almost 8 months now and I miss her.
The story referred to in the poem is from
Mark 5:35-43. Jesus takes the dead little girl by the hand and says, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” I remember reading those words and them hitting me hard. I thought about how I needed the strength to "arise" for the day.
A Day
I. 6 am
Coffee brewed dark like the sky outside, a soft chair to sink into and a thick Bible on my lap. First Psalm 148 and 149, then to Mark’s story.“Talitha cumi,” Jesus said to Jairus’ daughter. Yes - Rise, little girl. Time to wake the house.
II. 11:30 am
A friend prays for me at lunch – a soft rumbly voice and strong hands that reach for mine pinning me down – fixing me to time and place. She knows I’d like to run, to skip ahead, to be done. I don’t want to walk this road, this valley full of shadows. Her freckled hands pass courage to mine like a runner’s baton. “Talitha cumi,” I hear Jesus say.
III. 2 pm
Then to another’s house, too tired to join us, exhausted from battles playing out inside her. I heat up lunch, and watch her eat. “Just heal her, Lord,” I pray between each bite.
Just.
“Will I be able to see what’s happening here from Heaven?” she wonders.
"I hope so," I say. Talitha cumi, my friend.
IV. 4 pm
A birthday party tomorrow, twelve little girls to sleep over. Did I agree to this? Cake, party favors, chocolate,coke and chips, gifts. I am tired. Overwhelmed. Talitha cumi, I tell myself, this day has hours left.
V. 11 pm
Dinner cooked and dishes cleaned, homework finished, lights out. Flat on my back I close my eyes and pray one last time for the day –
“Forgive me, Lord, where I have not risen today, where talitha cumi has seemed too much for me. In the morning help me to make my first thought climb to You, to pull Your Spirit into my lungs and mix with my blood. Fill my soul that I might truly rise, that I might be a little girl filled with Your new life.”
Sorry for the long post. Blessings ~
CONTINUE READING...
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