The Gift of the Resurrection | “The Blessing of the Morning Light”

As usual, around this time of year, I have been thinking about the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ—about what it means for humanity but also what it means in other ways. Scripture says that Christ came that we might have life abundantly—not a life of material riches, but a life richly transformed by the power of Christ, one which, despite the vagaries of human life, rest in the joy and strength of His presence.

This is also a gift of the resurrection of Christ.

We have been learning over these few weeks of sheltering-in-place that, generally, we have been living shadow lives, chasing the entrapments of what others consider a good life. We’ve also been learning that we can actually live without much of the clutter and noise, that—no matter how much we want to be out and doing with the throngs—we are content with our simpler, streamlined lives.

We have time for thought. For listening. For embracing joy and sorrow outside the rush of our normal everyday existence.

We are experiencing a mass removal of “masks” that unfortunately cannot be handed over to health professionals. This presents us with an amazing opportunity to grapple with the messiness of our experiences in ways that lead to authentic connection with ourselves and others.

This afternoon, I had the pleasure of listening to David Whyte read one of his poems, “The Blessing of Morning Light,” during session 1 of his workshop, The Courage in Poetry. The words coincided so intensely with my thoughts over the last couple of weeks that I almost exited the live workshop just to sit and process those few moments.

We have a genuine opportunity through this global travesty to allow Light to illuminate the dark places so that we may rise to morning light.

[The poem was written one Easter morning (2015) in memory of his friend John O’Donohue].

THE BLESSING OF THE MORNING LIGHT (Or, “Easter Blessing”)
David Whyte

The blessing of the morning light to you,
may it find you even in your invisible
appearances, may you be seen to have risen
from some other place you know and have known
in the darkness and that that carries all you need.
May you see what is hidden in you
as a place of hospitality and shadowed shelter,
may that hidden darkness be your gift to give,
may you hold that shadow to the light
and the silence of that shelter to the word of the light,
may you join all of your previous disappearances
with this new appearance, this new morning,
this being seen again, new and newly alive.

From the David Whyte, The Bell and the Blackbird (2018).

#ThursdayTreeLove | The Legend of the Dogwood

The tree blossoms have pretty much come and gone in these parts, so it’s nice that #ThursdayTreeLove gives us an opportunity to revisit the blossoms of early spring. Since we celebrated the Resurrection of Christ (Easter) a few days ago, I’m sharing my bunch of dogwood photos along with the “Legend of the Dogwood.”

There is a legend that at the time of the crucifixion, the dogwood had reached the size of the mighty oak tree and other forest trees.

So strong and firm was the wood that it was chosen as the timber for Jesus’ cross.

To be used for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the dogwood.

While nailed upon it, Jesus sensed this, and in his compassion said: “Because of your regret and pity for my suffering, never again shall the the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used for a cross.

Henceforth, it shall be slender, bent, and twisted, and its blossoms shall be in the form of a cross–two long and two short petals.

In the center of the outer edge of each petal will be the print of nails.

In the center of the flower, stained with blood, will be a crown of thorns so that all who see it will remember.”

Even though this is a cute story, keep in mind that there is no truth to this legend. Dogwoods do not grow naturally in Israel and would not have been used for the execution stake.

I shot the dogwood photos with my iPhone one cloudy day and with my “real” camera another  [brighter] day. The first three shots in the posts are iPhone photos; the others are Canon photos. Although I’m impressed with the flexibility of the upgraded iPhone camera, it’s still no match for my Canon.  🙂

Be sure to tune in to the next #ThursdayTreeLove. I have more tree blossoms to share!


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

Bunny Dance [and Rabbit Names]

Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair.  –Susan Polis Shultz

Easter was yesterday, but this super-cute bunny wants to dance today too! My Love Notes friend Bianca sent her along with Easter greetings. She’s perfect for a Microblog Monday.

“Bunny mail” is always special to me. “Bunny” is my pet name for one of my favorite people and I have a few friends who [still] call me “Rabbit.”

My being “named” such is a result of my penchant for hyphenating almost everyone’s names with cute/fuzzy animal names–as in, Kesia-Pup, Cy-Bear, Mama-Duck. I started doing this in junior high school. By the time I graduated from college, rabbit was the most popular animal, so a few friends made that one of my nicknames. Of course, I don’t mind because well…rabbits!

With a few exceptions, I’ve pretty much kicked this particular naming habit. Pretty much. Maybe. Not really. 😀

May you find a reason to dance this week. Scratch that. May you “dance in the sun with wildflowers in your hair”–especially if there’s no reason!