I’m delighted and honoured to be invited to write a guest post for my friend Claire De Boer who I got to know in Burundi last year. Her blog focuses on the healing gift of writing. My piece is about journalling and how that’s helped me express my heart…
“Sometimes I feel paralysed by my emotions, as if they are a messed up ball of wool inside me. Sitting quietly to write can be like gently pulling out each string, laying it down in a line to see it for what it is. And there on the table it looses its power to hold me hostage.”
Do click through to read the full piece here.
I’ve been listening to ‘I will be still’ by Young Oceans on repeat. I need to hear it. Have a listen.
It got me thinking about that phrase, so I wrote a poem about it.
it starts with me
an intentional choice
I will be
presence, being not doing
I will be still
stopping – stillness in my body
trust – stillness in my emotions, my soul
peace – stillness in my spirit
deep heart knowing
You are God.
You are “I am”
You are who you are
Not who I think you are or want you to be
But who you are
Your presence, being you
Healer, Provider, Shepherd, Peace
The one who sees,
The one who is present.
Who you are to me now
Who you are, not what you will do
A deep knowing and experience of that ‘who’
oozes in gently
into my body, my soul, my spirit
Jehovah-Shammah Ezekiel 48:35 “The Lord who is present”
Psalm 46:10 “Be still, and know that I am God.”
All poems and original writing on this blog are Copyright © Hilary Murdoch 2014
After writing my previous post about being an ‘in between person‘, I read a chapter in Joyce Rupp’s book called ‘May I have this dance’ (a book of spiritual reflections which I highly recommend). The chapter for December was entitled ‘Homecoming’ and opened with this poem and seemed to connect with and further develop my reflections on the subject.
Something in me is stirring;
I think it’s the part of me
that waits in lonely exile
and yearns for a homeland.
It’s the hidden part of me
that wanders aimlessly,
stumbling in the dark,
crying to be found.
O God of exiles and strangers
find the homeless parts of me;
guide them toward yourself,
for you are my promised land.
Take the stranger inside of me
and find familiar soil for it.
Keep me mindful of the Emmanuel,
whose sojourn brought a glimpse of home.
Poem: Joyce Rupp 2006