Posts Tagged With: prayers

Thoughts and Prayers

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With the surge in mass shootings and other forms of violence that have left families and communities broken hearted and grieving I offer this poem.

Thoughts and Prayers

No thank you

If you mean 

That you are off the hook

For doing anything good

To stop this violence

No thank you

If you mean

You can let another

Year go by without

Courageously

Tackling this issue

Of gun violence

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Unless you mean

The kind of prayer 

Where you think and dream

With the Divine

A new path forward

Where you roll up your sleeves

And get to work

To put that new plan

Into effect

If you mean the kind of prayer

That looks first into your own heart

To see if you are complicit

In anyway to this violence

By turning your back 

On those who are grieving

Their loved ones gunned

Down before their time

If you mean the kind of prayer

Where you call out to God 

For mercy and forgiveness

And commit yourself

To work, to change

To make this world 

Become like your prayers

If you mean

These kinds of prayers

Then yes, please

Think and pray

Roll up your sleeves

And be part of the 

Answer to your prayers.

© 2023 Julie Clark

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Categories: dream, Faith, God, grief and death, lament, Poetry, Prayer | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

In Honor of Black History Month – A Poem and a Lament of White Privilege

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I have decided to take the risk of offending you

  To gently ask that you join me too

  To wake up and make a move

  Towards what we know is true

I have decided to open my eyes wide

  To notice the turning of the tide

  To pay attention to those in pain

  And stand with them side by side

I have decided to open my ears

  To no longer be controlled by my fears

  To grow and to learn something new

  Though I am late and full of years

 

I have decided to take the risk of offending you

  To gently ask that you join me too

  To wake up and make a move

  Towards what we know is true

There is work to do and it’s not too late

  We are needed to advocate

  (Though we are white and somewhat fragile)

  To move a mountain of ignorance and hate

Our first work is to lament

  Centuries of damage, discord and blood spent

  There is far too much history

  To rush in like a savior sent

 

Oh God have mercy on us and hear our prayers

 

We have enjoyed our privilege and not listened to the cries of the oppressed

Instead we listened to voices minimizing or denying this oppression

 

We have turned our backs on their suffering, segregating ourselves

In neighborhoods and schools

 

For this we ask forgiveness

 

We have not full acknowledged our history

Of white supremacy, injustice, violence, genocide and slavery

 

We have hid behind our shame and fear instead

 

We have not listened to voices of our brothers and sisters of color

Asking us to take another look at our history.

 

For this we ask forgiveness

 

Help us to grieve and to mourn the past and the present racial injustice

Help us to open our ears, our eyes, and especially our hearts

Soften our hearts where they have grown indifferent and cold

 

O God have mercy on us and forgive us

 

Help us turn from the injustice

That is still systemic in our nation

Help us to understand what needs to be done

To undo and untangle racial injustice from our systems of

Justice, Education, Housing, Medicine, and Employment

 

For this we ask for your help and strength

O God have mercy on us and hear our prayers

Amen

 

   

  

 

Categories: Black History Month, God, lament, Lent, Peace and Reconciliation, Poetry, Prayer, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

To Boston With Love

Yesterday, in-between watching CNN, I sat down and wrote a blog on building Parent/Child Connections: http://faithfullparenting.wordpress.com/ This was one of my responses to the unfolding drama in Boston.  I know it is just one piece, the parenting piece, in the complex array of broken pieces in this tragic story.

 

Why did this happen?  There is the emigrant story, the broken piece where the emigrant does not assimilate to the American culture and life. To understand this more Mary Pipher does an excellent job in her book: The Middle of Everywhere: Helping Refugees Enter the American Community

 

Then there is the broken piece of radical religion.  How does loving God mean doing something like this?  It does not. God is love and this is not love.

 

Perhaps another cultural broken piece is family loyalty trumping everything. An older brother influences a younger brother to join him in an atrocious act.  We could find and name so many broken pieces.

 

It is important to work through these questions on the road to recovery. Along with this, in order to heal we need to choose our response.  There is a lot of hard work ahead to do in order to heal.  Will we become haters?  If we choose that route we align ourselves with the same spirit that motivated the terrorists and they win. We become like them. Anger is a normal response to grief, but we can’t stay angry and let it poison our souls.  We must move beyond it to the hard work of grieving, sadness, and the seemingly impossible process of forgiving. Hate, revenge, and bitterness are not the answers we need for healing.  They never are.  They will only destroy us and turn our hearts to stone.

 

Dear Boston choose the harder path of healing and recovery and you will find yourself surrounded by heaven ready to help.  Our prayers are with you.

Categories: Boston, Faith, God, Life, Love, Paths, Prayer | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

India Journal, March 14, 2012

First the birds began chirping, singing and calling, then a gust of wind blew through the streets rattling the trees and papers in the road, next a haunting call to prayer from the neighborhood mosque – all this to greet the dawn in Pune.  I normally would be missing this morning concert, not the early rising type, but for my old friend “jet lag” waking me in time to hear it. These wide-awake, pre-dawn hours have a message for me to hear. Now a dog is joining the chorus with a lonely howl.

Last evening I went to the doctors with my daughter-in-law.  Her blood pressure is up.  The doctor is somewhat concerned and wants the baby born before Friday when she has her next appointment.  Asking for your prayers and a great peace to fill the air around her.

My son is quite the pro, navigating these streets in his little Santro.  He weaves in and out of the myriad of cars, motorbikes, pedestrians, push carts, motorized rik- shaws, and occasional cows like he was born for it. On the other hand I find it daunting just crossing the street.  There is no stopping the flow. Only in the wee hours like when we first arrived. One must, with great courage, look for the break in traffic and enter in weaving, stopping, and starting until you cross the 20 feet to the other side. It’s kind of like a dance, or maybe more like a bullfight.

The doctor’s office is on a very busy corner near the main shopping area: MG road. There is a narrow stairway leading to the 2nd floor balcony, again very narrow.  I can imagine two pregnant ladies meeting in this hall and one having to back up into a doorway to let the other pass. A small door appears and there is a tiny waiting room with four plastic chairs.  No receptionist, or billing department, just another foggy glass door to the Doctors office/examining room.  I have complete confidence in her.  She is a veteran and knows her stuff. Her equipment is ancient, but adequate for the task.  I delightedly hear the swish-swish of my grandson’s heartbeat. I am gratefully reminded of another doctor’s office back in Whittier, California. The office was quite different, but I had another master doctor from Chennai who helped bring my son into the world 28 years ago.

Categories: borderlands, Life, Travel | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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