I abide

Michael*s tattoo is finally underway.  The reminder on his wrist, the vines up his arm, they will be there whenever he looks.  He will not have to be reminded to hang on for dear life, he will know life forever grafted to the Vine.  He abides.  You go, Michael.

It is now tattooed

On the inside of his wrist

In Greek:

μὲνω.

The vines are underway.

They wind up his left arm.

The vines are a work

In progress,

The way all vines are.

He has meditated

His way

Here.

He is a meditation

In progress,

The way

All of us

Are.

Re-wind

Yesterday we unwound a ball of yarn and passed it around as the sermon.  We talked about messy vines (indeed it got tangled up), and each person held it differently.  At the end we didn*t have a plan for getting it all back together.  As the Table was being prepared for Communion, one woman began winding it all back up again.  We waited until she was done, and then we continued.  I never would have planned it that way.  Today I am re-winding, so I can continue with the next thing.

Today the clients arrive back to back.

This morning early I gather myself back together,

Like the woman who re-wound the ball of yarn

Before Communion yesterday

She walked among the women

Winding,

Carefully wound it back to wholeness,

Placed it on the altar

With the bread and wine

In full sight of the gathered women.

I never could have planned

Such a metaphor.

This morning I pull it all

Back together.

Vine sermon

The sermon this morning requires unrolling a ball of yarn and everyone grabbing on.  I am glad for this opportunity to preach, and to remember Jesus in this way.

This morning in church

We will pass around a ball of yarn

Until we are all connected

On the string.

More yarn will still remain.

This is the way it is with Jesus.

There is always more possibility left

After everyone takes her part.

Women have knit and crocheted their way

Through the weekend.

Yarn is a fitting way

For such as us

To remember the Vine this morning.

Yarn is a fitting way

To remember

We are all connected.

This morning I cling to the Vine

This weekend I am chaplain for a retreat of wonderful praying women.  I wrote this as I heard them praying downstairs in the modified, wood-like paneled chapel.  We are staying in a prayer center run by Franciscan sisters.  Now... to breakfast.

I did not wake up in time

For morning prayer.

The women*s voices sound

From the chapel

Downstairs.

They carry me

Even as I write this.

I am praying about vines,

Branches, clematis,

The woodpecker I heard early

This morning.

The women*s voices sound

Downstairs.

Soon I will join them at breakfast.

This morning I cling

To the Vine

As I know they do.