grace and welcome

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An invitation has been pressed upon me, pressed into me. 

I have been called to a life lived with great hospitality, to cultivate a heart of radical welcome. For years Joshua and I have sought to grow in the grace of hospitality, and now that seeking has sought us.

And, it is being revealed to me, in order to offer this deep and genuine welcome to others, I must learn to extend greater acceptance and grace to myself. 

If my house is dirty and disorganized,
if I'm unkempt and flabby, 
if I never return to work or finish my degree—
if I lose what I think I need to be myself, 
I am still a self loved and welcomed by Christ and those dear ones He has put in my life.

From a place of peace we may offer peace; from a place of welcome we may offer welcome. 

You're welcome here, Baby Bennett <3

This Hope For An Anchor of the Soul

lake michigan

anyone who has had all the freedom they wished for

knows how quickly comes the wish

to be free from all they thought was freedom

"let Thy goodness bind my wandering heart to Thee"

willingly fettered, no wish to be free

"A Cradle Song" // A Poem for Christmastime

by William Blake

Sweet dreams for a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams

Sweet sleep with soft down,
Weave thy brows an infant crown. 
Sweet sleep Angel mild,
Hover o'er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night,
Hover over my delight. 
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles
All the livelong night beguiles.

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes,
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the dovelike moans beguiles.

Sleep sleep happy child.
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee thy mother weep

Sweet baby in thy face,
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe once like these, 
Thy maker lay and wept for me

Wept

Wept for me for thee for all,
When he was an infant small.
Thou his image ever see.
Heavenly face that smiles on thee. 

Smiles on thee on me on all,
Who became an infant small,
Infant smiles are his own smiles,
Heaven & earth to peace beguiles.

In this season it is good to slow and stop and hear the words "miracle" and "incarnation" and (sure, go for it) "hypostatic union." It is good at Christmas to mull over the mystery of God in human flesh and why not use all the big words we've got?

But then it is also good to hear the eighteenth-century Blake speak in the simplest words of the most magnificent mystery: God the "maker" has become a crying babe, and "Infant smiles are his own smiles"!

image by Daniel Thomas

No Failing Today

neighborhood flowers, like stars in the dark sky

I ran up the library stairs, arms full of the papers that I hadn't quite finished reading, and made it to the meeting only a few minutes late, and just in time to remember that I had completely missed an earlier meeting with the guy I see as I enter the room. *Sigh.

This has been my life. Recently I've been tumbling down a list of 100 obligations that I'm late for and stressing about, staying up late and getting up early and still falling behind. You know that feeling?

But once a week, as the sun sets on Friday, I retreat from the press of obligations and the clatter of commerce. In obedience to the command, in imitation of Christ, in sweet relief I stop work for one day.

No chores.
No errands.
No meetings.
No multi-tasking.
No sense of letting people down.
No failing today. 

I'm not what I produce. I'm made, redeemed, re-made, and beloved. This I know for the Sabbath tells me so.