Hands Beyond Time
The hands of time wind on wearily. And yet, as they spin meaninglessly toward midnight, there is comfort in the knowledge there are other, unseen, hands at work. Hands that do provide great meaning, and move in gestures measured and inspired by love alone.
While the world may be “old and worn and without hope” (M-1.4:5), all hope is ours because of him, our Comforter and Guide: the timeless Presence of love in our minds which leads us home one quiet measure at a time. What other hope would we want?
The love in our mind waits for us in infinite patience; a quiet space between the notes, offering unceasing hope — the promise of inevitable arrival. This is the Holy Spirit’s eternal vow to us: that not one person will be left lost and alone outside His sweet embrace, not one chair in Heaven’s orchestra will sit empty. It is all of us together, or not at all.
I want to thank everyone who reads this blog for their great kindness throughout the year. We all struggle with our fear of God’s Love each in our own personal way, but our experience is shared in content. Our need is one. We walk together in a harmony unseen by our dissonant perception, but its echo can yet be heard when the heart is made open. The little willingness that has been asked, has been given. I see it daily in your warmheartedness. Thank you for your constant Presence. I feel it, and it nourishes, nurtures, comforts and guides me. This presence is in all of us, but when I need a symbol of it, I find it in You.
Will this be the year that we finally make different by making it all the same? That we let all our relationships be made holy? (T-15.XI.10:11-12) That our eyes become empty of the world? This is my prayer for us all. And if this isn’t the year, that we at least be as gentle and patient with ourselves as possible within our Atonement process.
In the classrooms 2009 provides, may we all become a little less afraid, a little less judgmental, a little more accepting, and a little softer. We have each other, and we have our older brother, Jesus, who promises, in my favorite line of the Course, that his love surrounds us, and that he will never leave us comfortless (W.ep.6:8). We may have abandoned love, but love has not abandoned us.
And we have our conductor. Ken. He, too, will never leave us comfortless. He holds us carefully in his palm, his baton helping us to find and listen to the music within. And when we inevitably play out of tune, he is there; in each gentle beckoning and warm smile of pure acceptance, he invites us back to the quiet melody of forgiveness that sings in all of us. We each have a part in this holy song of prayer. We are not the conductor, we are instruments of an ordered movement. Let us each play our part in this symphony, and by releasing our discordant needs into God’s hands, learn to allow ourselves to be led by the hands of one whose heart hears all the parts perfectly.
“Prayer is a stepping aside; a letting go, a quiet time of listening and loving” (S-1.I.5:1).
May we let the music come to us, and together disappear as One, in this our Song of Prayer.
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