Poem: Happiness
There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.
No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful hours
of your despair.
It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basketmaker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.
--------------------- Jane Kenyon (1947-1995), American poet and translator, from The Breath of Parted Lips: Voices From the Robert Frost Place
Proverb:
“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.
------------------ Jeremiah 31:3
Painting: The Return of the Prodigal Son, Brent Kastler
Prayer: Place Prayer
Loving God
may we be found
and may we find
a place called home
a place where faith holds us
and grace renews us
where forgiveness longs for us
to be who you will us to be
may we find a place called home
where we are accepted as we are
where we are taken in
and loved unconditionally
a place called home
where we belong
and our souls fit
and our questions are allowed
and our anger is heard
and our needs are recognised
and our pain is held
and our names are known
and may this
be that place, O God,
this community
this group of travellers and doubters
and companions on the way
this home
where your place
is our place
and place isn’t a building
but a way of being together
in relationship
held together
by love
Loving God
Homecoming God
may we make this a home
to all who still yet seek
a place of grace-filled sanctuary
and gracious welcome
So be it.
Amen.
----------------- Roddy Hamilton, inspired by the Parable of the Prodigal Son
Scripture reference: Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32, Lent 4C
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