Lead, Kindly Light

Dear God,

Did You see me when I packed up my bag
and walked twenty-one streets back home
Gazing blankly into people-filled space?
Going through the motions of an automaton
Not even trying to beat the yellow lights
Just shaking my head every once in a while –
Did you see me? Were You here?

Did You hear me when I finally got home
And I screamed into the long hall
To no one in particular –
just screamed in a voice so raw
and surprisingly loud
that I scared even myself for just a moment–
Did You hear me? Were You here?

Did You feel the couch pillows shudder
When I pitifully punched with all my might…
(the little might I have)
And did You feel the trip of metal against Your feet
When I threw that humble little office supply
to the ground over and over just to hear it clang?
It was the only thing that wouldn’t break.
Did You feel it? Were You here?

Did You hear me when I prayed
Day after day, hour after hour?
And did You hear me when I half-prayed
because I couldn’t feel Your presence anymore?

Where are You?
I know somewhere You are here…

But I wish I could see
I wish I could hear
I wish I could feel
You near.

a little tired, a little grey

alone, but in an okay way

I’m here with You, just You, today

 

the air is calm, my heart is still

I’ll just wait here, right here, until

the fog clears and You show Your will

 

of twists and curves I’ve tired fast

I want Your joy, true joy, at last

my hope into Your love I cast

 

and day by day, I’ll walk beside

trailing pure light, Your light, my guide

trusting Your good hands to provide

 

You promised that with me You’d stay

give shelter in Your love, I pray

I’m here with You, just You, today

 

This is an old and familiar poem/writing – I agree with most of it, taking exception only really for the part about God being “whatever you conceive him to be.” Otherwise – it’s a pretty good list of ideals.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

I received the following email from an old friend from high school this afternoon. She’s referencing something I wrote for her about seven years ago. This message brought a smile to my face and warmed my heart.

“I’m at home cleaning out my room…do you remember giving me your chemistry notebook? You lent me some kind of notebook that I ripped a few sheets out of and saved. You doodled “TO TARISA” and then a poem with a lot of words/lines crossed out, lots of notes and doodles on the side. I don’t think you ever intended me to see it (at least this version). I thought it was really neat and beautiful. I never told you that I found or saved this, but now seems as good of a time as any. Thank you.

Though we are very different
I’m sure we’ve often felt the same -
Disappointed, disillusioned,
A cheated player in the game,
Disheartened by the victories
that others deem as loss
misunderstood by the people
whose paths we daily cross.
Truly… the journey may grow tiresome:
but this is what I’ve learned.
“No winter lasts forever;
no spring ever skips its turn.”
Though it often well may seem
that you must wander farther
and struggle through more trials
it only makes you stronger.
Doubt not even for a moment
that grace will one day
And lead you to your place
And the wait will be worthwhile.

This poem is significant because my Torts Professor (Jon Hanson) read it to us during our last day of class years ago. It seemed very appropriate–summing up, perhaps, what he had spent the entire semester trying to tell us.

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and is not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.

A dear friend sent this hymn/poem to me today. It speaks well of the road I hope he chooses to take, and the one upon which I seek to endeavor.

Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home; lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on.
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till the night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile, which I
Have loved long since, and lost awhile!

Meantime, along the narrow rugged path, Thyself hast trod,
Lead, Savior, lead me home in childlike faith, home to my God.
To rest forever after earthly strife
In the calm light of everlasting life.