I put paint over an old painting that I have never liked. I saw the gold showing up and I resisted. I don’t like it. I didn’t invite it. I didn’t plan it or approve it. I wanted this to be about horizons—trusty, grounding space of infinite colors and defining lines. I wanted this to be about resilience—the advent word of the day. Resilience was the assignment.
Get with the program. Tune into the same channel that everyone else hears. Don’t miss out. Don’t miss the miracle.
But, the art took ahold and kept insisting it be art’s way.
Move the brush here. Then here. Don’t think. Just move. Remember?
Art doesn’t lie.
It’s over. I step back. I see columns of soldiers standing guard. The strength that I initially denied shows up as endurance—powered by Love, it glistens.
This discovery journal invites prayer, meditation, journaling, and discovery of the twelve prayers for personal peace within the prayer we have come to cherish as the St. Francis Prayer. This meditation practice can be entered as part of a traditional liturgical season such as Advent or Lent, or over any period of days in personal or small group spiritual retreats.
This contemplative workbook offers gentle prompts and space for journaling as you explore new and possibly more personal perspectives of the St. Francis Prayer.
By the conclusion of the meditations, you will have personally encountered all twelve petitions for peace found in the prayer, and hopefully will have discovered a deeper and more loving experience of being in—or being—a channel of God’s peace.
Over the past few days I have let the light drain out of me like a leaky oil pan.
My little duck feet have all but stopped paddling beneath the surface of what you see.
I have found myself in the weeds. The still stagnant waters surround me in a slimy film of greens. And, nothing but small broken twigs show up as something to eat.
As I see it, I have but two options: to continue longingly staring, with these eyes of self-recrimination, at the sparkling-in-the-sun river flowing on without me, or, to close my eyes and float in the shade.
With still feet and busy mind, everything screams inside of me, saying, “You had no business coming to the river. You should have stayed in the pond.”
this is where I am. I can see and admit this now, at least to myself.
This is where the currents of God and my free choice have brought me, so this is where I will be. Where I will wait and pray between the ripples of my little duck soul and striving mind.