We often forget that we are like children whose hearts must be open, trusting and needful of God's deep embrace... Deep within the divine embrace the self is always recognized as infinitely precious, worthy of dignity and respect. One discovers one's essential goodness and the graced quality of one's life... In that embrace one discovers true needfulness and vulnerability, the heart of the beloved child that rests in loving arms and finds there its peaceful home.
The marrow of who I am
is a tree struck by lightning
of anger and sadness, shattering
heartwood upon the earth.
The marrow of who I am
is made by the only Mother
who stands simply at each and every door,
listening to love's undying cry
melt into her very heart.
The marrow of who I am
is always creating new blood,
a life innocent to this world,
safe in the mystery of forgivenesses home.