She stood up to go.  He stood.  Without words, they moved toward each other.  They stretched out their arms each encircling the other's shoulders.  They stood close.  Being nearly the same height, there was no strain on either of their parts.  There was no grasping, no clutching, just a close, warm embrace, beyond words, that lasted well over a minute, pressure applied with fingers and hands and arms, warmth, reassurance, nothing sexual, yet an exchange of deep love, the resolution of a five year struggle, the promise of an eternal friendship.  It was too wonderful.  She would have been happy to stand there like that all day, but slowly, with a silent prayer, "I give him back to You, God," she lessened the pressure on his back, felt fully his pressure on hers, then his release.  They each took a step back.  They smiled at each other.  She said, "Thank you," and walked out the door.
 
 

God hugs me.
God's arms are warm and gentle,
encircling, protecting, steady.
There is no strain, no pulling back.
God's  hug I do not have to break, to leave.
God does not grow tired of hugging me.
"Remember, Mary, my arms are always around you."
God's hug is an eternal  embrace.
 
 

Today I tasted silence.
 
 
 

Seven hours
 I sat with eyes closed,
 mind empty of all thoughts.

I spoke no words,
 exchanged no glances.

None were needed.

Today I tasted silence.
 
 
 
 

It is sweet.
 
 

 
 
 

IN YOUR HAND, IN YOUR HEART

 
 

"How can my teacher be so mean?" the student asks when told to journal every day.
"But I want to rest and play!" another complains as homework is assigned.
With their limited experiences, they do not understand the need for practice now
In order to master the lessons they must know to graduate.

How little I differ from my students, Lord!
"Why won't he thank me?" I have railed
Until I learned his concern has been to shield me from my pride.
"How could You permit me to suffer so, being propositioned by a Priest!" I've cried.

As we sit opposite each other slowly building trust, forgiveness, peace,
He shares with me how thoroughly You taught him restitution.
It is no accident he is able to listen to my pain
And to make amends to me the way no other incest survivor's perpetrator can!

How carefully, lovingly, thoughtfully You mold the clay we are
Potter, in Your gentle hands.
You want so much to get us ready for our coming Home to You.
You do, indeed, hold us in Your Hand, in Your Heart.
 
 

If I trusted you with something precious,
Would you cradle it in your hands a while,
Warm it gently close to your heart,
Stroke it tenderly with your fingers?

If I trusted you with a fragile treasure,
Would you hold it carefully,
Look at it lovingly,
Care for it as if it were your very own?

If I trusted you with me, my self,
Would you promise to speak truthfully,
To be present fully,
To return me to myself unharmed?
 
 

Michael was playing in the park
With his new radio controlled airplane.
What fun it was to skim the brow of the hill,
To circle trees!
He hadn't had it long, was not yet a master pilot
When it flew right into me, wounding me.
"I am sorry I hurt you," he assured me.
"I do forgive you," I answered back.

Yet, years later, as we sat talking,
I rolled up my sleeve revealing a scar.
"This is where you hurt me,"
I said, pointing to the old wound.
And my words
                          left a scar
                                             on Michael's heart.
 
 

God, please forgive my daddy.
 

He says and does cruel things to me,

But he doesn't mean to.
 

Someone hurt him when he was just a little boy.
 

He has scars on the inside

no one can see.
 

God, please forgive my daddy.
 

He has no idea

how much

he hurts me.
 
 
 
 
 

 If I had unlimited resources and could give any gift to anyone

 I chose, I would give Mike the gift of knowing he is loved and

 lovable.  How would I go about it?  I'm not sure.  I think it might

 take a long time.  I think it might take lots of small, thoughtful

 signs of love.  I'm sure it would take patience and persistence.

 Let's see, I could send him a red rose every day for ten years.

 Or I could arrange a ride in a hot air balloon.  Would he really

 like a Rolls Royce?  No, all those things  are too easy to ignore,

 to brush aside.  How do you give another person love?
 

 If I could give Mike any thing, I'd give him the gift of tears and

 hold him in my arms each day until he'd cried out all the pain

 that blinds him to that ocean of God's love in which he swims!