Harvest

A basket rests, flat bottomed
gentle curves held tight with a

braided necklace grasped by
a sturdy handle, intelligent design.

A textured cradle, colored from earth
welcomes harvest’s bounty,

each season fills with desires, brims
with abundance, urges use, legacy freely given.

Left unnoticed, abstaining dispersion,
rot and mold deflate precious gems,

invader hands claim ownership, steal perfection
in the eye of the tempest, hostile mouths

pronounce poison, the basket sits unwanted.
In time its weave loosens, cracked curling ends

yield gaps and edges dangerous to ripe flesh,
if abandoned, left unused.

Yet each season brings harvest anew,
if the weaver be brave, a gamble to renovate,

change the pedestal, alter the space,
move the basket into new light,

the giver sees through new eyes that
shine from within, hears words, not from those

oft’ spoken with false voices chiming
warnings, but finds the gentle one who

understands, knows the light within. Rest your
basket there, fear no more to share.

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Author’s Note:

Gratitude.

This is the theme for my lovely, little church this new season. As our new year begins, the Church of the Holy Family, ECC, embraces gratitude.

I am grateful to have found this light. The fear of breaking away from the old held me much too long. I am grateful to my dear friend, Dorothea, for taking me under her wing and leading me through those doors. Even though she isn’t a member, my staunch Lutheran friend, somehow she knew it would be a perfect fit for me.

I am grateful to have found voices that no longer claim to be compassionate, but loving voices that are genuine. I never really understood the word inclusive. Come with me some time and you will understand, too.

I am grateful for the tiny storefront, gracious and beautiful with people who accept everyone for who they are. There are clergy who see inside you and know brokeness, because they have been broken. There is space open to the artist. It is not just art of song, poetry, and dance. There is art in the gifts each being brings without being asked. There is love, because there was no love in lives once upon a time. But now there is abundance.

There is gratitude because gifts are shared without restraint.

And not because something is needed. No. Gifts are shared because there are eyes who see gifts that have been hidden, forgotten, unused for many seasons. And even if the gifts do not seem to the giver as important or holy, the giver is assured that God our Father and Mother does not bequeath barren gifts to creation.

Thank you, Fr. Scott, Reverend Kathleen, Deacons David and Mike, and all those who walk through the doors and give hugs with abandon. You are special and I am blessed to have you all in my life.

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