On Pentecost morning,
I walked toward a red, fiery sun.
There she was, right on time:
5:57am.
Not a moment sooner or later.
Precise
and
Dependable.
Astonishing
and
thoroughly
Surprising.
Each day,
she lifts herself upward,
responsible and resplendent,
constant and confounding,
the same
daily disclosure
of a marvelous miracle.
Each appearance new and particular,
Each arrival common and original,
she
with us,
on our plane –
the horizon of our wonder.
Here is a story both old and new:
Before he died,
one of my most Beloved People
spoke this saying to me all the time:
“Now remember well,
and bear in mind,
that a jaybird’s tail sticks out behind.”
If I looked confused,
he would say,
“There are some things
you can always count on.”
Amidst the torrents of trauma,
Alongside the presence of pain,
exist
Beauty and
Relationships and
Sacred Love
that can be trusted.
that can be expected.
We watch them rise.
Even daily, we marvel with them.
Right on time,
they are Sacred Flame,
they are Holy Tongues,
they are Mighty Words,
they are Spirit Breath.
They are Pentecost –
at once
completely mundane,
completely miraculous.
Smuggling Grace 