Thursday, October 20, 2005

WAKEN IN ME A SENSE OF JOY

Here's a poem of Ted Loder from Guerrillas of Grace (Innisfree Press, Philadelphia, 1984). Loder's poetry is meaningful to me, in part, because he wrote it as a pastor of a local Methodist congregation in Germantown, Pennsylvania.

O extravagant God,
in this ripening, red-tinged autumn,
waken in me a sense of joy,
in just being alive,
joy for nothing in general
except everything in particular;
joy in sun and rain
mating with earth to birth a harvest;
joy in soft light
through shyly disrobing trees;
joy in the acolyte moon
setting halos around possessing clouds;
joy in the beating of a thousand wings
mysteriously knowing which way is warm;
joy in wagging tails and kids' smiles
and in this spunky old city;
joy in the taste of bread and wine,
the smell of dawn,
a touch,
a song,
a presence;
joy in having what I cannot live without--
other people to hold and cry and laugh with;
joy in love,
in you;
and in all that first and last
is grace.

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