How do I listen to God in a noisy (busy) world?
Not well at all.
I am not disciplined, with a scheduled prayer/meditation time.
We are blessed here on the OBX, with such beautiful quietness all around us. That is a big reason why I so seek and enjoy long solitary walking/jogging. Then I listen better.
But at times I seem too busy for that so I just try my best to be present - in my daily work, and on my drive to and from Chesapeake. In the mornings, I see God around me in the mists burning off the fields or as I watch the corn grow daily, drawn up by the rising sun. When the radio too often brings news of tragedy and terrorism and war, I pray for God to heal the hurts, hearts and souls of all, especially those who perpetrate it through actions and words.
As I listen to my patients, I hear such stories - of pain and suffering, of fear and loss, of abuse and desperation, but also of healing, of love, of perseverance and of such amazing strength. These are stories of the Spirit, of Grace.
Driving home at night I may listen to an audio book, such as currently, Marcus Borg’s Convictions. My path home is frequently lit by a rising moon in the southeast. I love seeing the moon, and recall a childhood rhyme:
“I see the moon and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon and God Bless me.”
Arriving, I give thanks for my home, for having a home.
And I give thanks for Tim.
I’d like to share a poem that in Ireland we were taught at a young age. The title is the first line. It has stayed with me. It says it all.
I see His blood upon the rose,
And in the stars the glory of His eyes.
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see His face in every flower.
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but His voice - and carven by His power
Rocks are His written words.
All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.
Joseph Mary Plunkett 1887-1916
Roisin McKeithan
Not well at all.
I am not disciplined, with a scheduled prayer/meditation time.
We are blessed here on the OBX, with such beautiful quietness all around us. That is a big reason why I so seek and enjoy long solitary walking/jogging. Then I listen better.
But at times I seem too busy for that so I just try my best to be present - in my daily work, and on my drive to and from Chesapeake. In the mornings, I see God around me in the mists burning off the fields or as I watch the corn grow daily, drawn up by the rising sun. When the radio too often brings news of tragedy and terrorism and war, I pray for God to heal the hurts, hearts and souls of all, especially those who perpetrate it through actions and words.
As I listen to my patients, I hear such stories - of pain and suffering, of fear and loss, of abuse and desperation, but also of healing, of love, of perseverance and of such amazing strength. These are stories of the Spirit, of Grace.
Driving home at night I may listen to an audio book, such as currently, Marcus Borg’s Convictions. My path home is frequently lit by a rising moon in the southeast. I love seeing the moon, and recall a childhood rhyme:
“I see the moon and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon and God Bless me.”
Arriving, I give thanks for my home, for having a home.
And I give thanks for Tim.
I’d like to share a poem that in Ireland we were taught at a young age. The title is the first line. It has stayed with me. It says it all.
I see His blood upon the rose,
And in the stars the glory of His eyes.
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see His face in every flower.
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but His voice - and carven by His power
Rocks are His written words.
All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.
Joseph Mary Plunkett 1887-1916
Roisin McKeithan
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