We hadn't taken a family vacation together since 2006 and since Megan is in Morocco for her semester abroad we decided to stretch Thanksgiving break into a week and go visit her. She informed us that she also had a break from classes Wednesday through Monday for some sort of Moraccan national holiday which clinched the deal. So off we went. We arrived on Saturday afternoon, having left Friday afternoon, a bit sleep deprived and on a time schedule that was 6 hours earlier. Megan joined us for a late dinner of delicious Moroccan food at our hotel after a two hour train ride.
November 2009 Archives
When two people consent
the yoke of marriage becomes a beautiful burden
Over time it restrains our impulses
makes our work easier
helping us to pull together
"Harambee!"
So much more can be done when we are yoked as one
by the grace of God
(and this is merely an hors d'oeurve to God's banquet
should we accept)
Blessed are those who are extremely sensitive
to the tugging of God
-one tug, one nudge and they respond
as a horse to a bridle command
The bit of God is not bitter, though at times tastes bitter-sweet
when we consciously take it into our mouths
For they shall inherit the empire of God
the heaven among us, named and called out
with such precision by Jesus
(He knew the bit and bridle, perhaps, better than anyone since Moses)
May you and I be so blessed
choosing to respond, so, to the Rider of the heart
distinguishing between our own small desires, writ large
and the tugs and pulls from the One Who Knows
and is the master of my soul
and yours
How can it be that this yoke brings such peace and freedom?
contradicting all I have ever been taught?
We of these currents, have come to believe that freedom means choice
when its meaning is closer to having none!
Thy will, not my will, becomes a love song on my lips
Now, I understand why the Cubans shout
"Jefe, comandante, ordene!"
mistaking Fidel for the One Who Truly Liberates
Thy will be done
Thy empire come
Now, here, among us
Yoke us together
and to You
Comandante of my heart!
Our future is on the bus,
if we have one (as Quakers, as humans)
Its easier to
care for each other on the bus
on the trolley, or subway
Smile, chat, give
up a seat
to someone older, or to a dad with 3 kids
There is a
community, ready made
on the bus
For two or three
hours
or just 15 minutes
We are there
together, forced
to be neighbors
A little too
close for comfort
but its not really about comfort, is it?
This community,
this time and space
we're given
to connect, to resist 'passing in the night'
Private cars
isolate us, deny us
the comforting uncomfortable closeness
Needed to
understand what
the human journey is all about
Remembering,
re-connecting
Re-membering who
we are
Who we really are
On the bus we rub
up against each other
We fall asleep
and lean on each other,
even when we don't really want to
We are given that
opportunity
Did you loose
someone dear to you?
Is that why you
have teardrops tattooed
on your cheek at the corner of your eye?
How will I ever
know you or your story?
How much alike we
are? How different our
lives have been? What gifts we have for each other?
On the bus is our
future, our life
The chance to be
what we are meant to be
Individuals
experiencing all the joys and sorrows
of our collective lives, joined by grace
by love, by longing, by a common destiny
We are all going
home.
Get a transpass
and come home
while you are coming home
About Amy
Amy was born in 1952 to Quaker parents in Philadelphia, PA. She is the mother of 2 young adults and one teenager. She and her husband, David who is a physician, have been married 27 years. Amy lives, works and writes in West Philadelphia, though a large part of her heart resides in Africa. More about Amy.
