There is a poem by Ian Crichton Smith
TWO GIRLS SINGING
It neither was the words nor yet the tune
Any tune would have done and any words.
Any listener at all.
As nightingales in rocks or a child crooning
in its own world of strange awakening
or larks for no reason but themselves.
So on the bus through late November running
by yellow lights tormented, darkness falling,
the two girls sang for miles and miles together
and it wasn’t the words or the tune. It was the singing.
It was the human sweetness in that yellow,
the unpredicted voices of our kind.
Source: Scottish Poem Book
May you find yourself, this day, together with another – singing.
Singing with raucous voice released by darkness and adventure and the courage that comes with company,
In the human sweetness, with the unpredicted voices of shared struggle and shared hope.
On this morning we wander off in search of the things all creatures need: kindness; a smile to reassure the one who doubts their worth. And encouragement: a word that rebuilds what has been torn down.
If we are lucky, we find forgiveness like the scout stumbles upon berries in the woods. A soft quiet rain would be like the pardon we receive freeing us from guilt.
Let us hear when peace is spoken. It is transparent and moves silently. Give us ears to hear it. Give us hearts to sense it when it brushes by.
After all, what is salvation except two friends driven apart by broken trust: reconciled, bonded, and stronger together than before?
Where love and faithfulness meet; where righteousness and peace embrace
Trust will spring up from the ground like grass through the snow.
We wander off this morning in search of what is good; and the earth, and our neighbors, and our faiths will provide it exponentially; if you search.
Relationships made whole again are always just ahead of us, if we wander in search of them. It is only by our footsteps trails are made. We will make a path so their steps will lead them to us.
A prayer poem inspired by a weekly prayer of the Columban Fathers
All mighty and enduring God,
We arrive at autumn’s door with spirits and hearts filled like Halloween candy bags with gratitude.
The vibrant colors remind us of eternal rest; our memories turn to happy times where peace and joy sat with us over coffee in warm kitchens with frosted windows.
Giving thanks means we think often of those who are denied comfort and rest.
We commit ourselves to bring their suffering into sacred places.
When our arms cannot reach them, let our thoughts and prayers empower those close by to serve all needs.
Dignify your creation, O God, with good care and true compassion.
Above all, may we see the setting autumn sun not as the doom saying prophet of winter to come,
but as a celebration calling all that is eternal and good and noble to the family table.
In falling leaves we see blessings fall;
beautiful things once far away now gather in piles at our feet.
We will gather them up into big piles just to jump in and disappear under the colors of Thanksgiving.