 A haiku written for Good Friday
O Forsaken One, You know the depths of sorrow. We sit with you now. I see Good Friday pain, death, and sorrow mirrored everywhere... I saw this stump on a walk this week and the image caught me with its starkness. What have you seen that feels forsaken? Christ, the Incarnate One, is here in the world with us, in places of pain and woundedness. The invitation today is to witness it and sit with it.
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Look up
Look around Take out your earbuds Put away your phone. Let the ordinary Beauty of this moment You are in Bring you pause. This is holy ground The Divine shimmering Below the surface Waiting to be seen. - Wendy Janzen Today I was stopped in my tracks by the sweet earthy smell of rotting leaves. Heaven on earth! A tree's offering to the soil. This scent tells the curious truth: death can be achingly, exquisitely, lovely. Death is not a final ending, it is a transformation, a continuum, an outpouring of love. - Wendy Janzen  Thoughts for heading into municipal elections.
How do we measure progress? We’ve gone off track, lost our way following stats for economic growth, quarterly profits, housing starts, and GDP. Why not measure a city’s success through counting how many species of insects we have, how many people are not hungry, how many different birds children can name, how many stars can be seen at night, how many green spaces there are, how easy public transit is to access, and how healthy the waterways are… Let’s exchange our lawn mowers for native plant gardens. Dim our insecurity lights. Talk to our neigbours. Park our cars. Be happy with enough, and no more. Draw the circle wide. Care for the least. Measure compassion, not consumption. - Wendy Janzen Last Sunday I went
to bird church, or maybe it was river church. Either way, I was greeted by gulls, mallards, heron, cedar wax wings, and approached by Mystery. There were flowers offering praise and beauty in purples and gold. The sky opened space for us, the constant flow of the river whispered ageless truths. I wandered prayerfully then returned and waited, wondering who would offer the benediction. I suspected it might be gull, perched proudly on a rock in the center of the river. But, no. Soundlessly, a single yellow leaf spun down from above, swirling to a resting place in front of my feet: Go in peace. - Wendy Janzen  For Good Friday
It is finished. Cut off. Ended. No more. Lifeless. It's body brought down, but for what reason? What threat? To what end? Laying on the forest floor. Humbled. Hollowed. Hallowed. It's story,it's legacy, it's outpouring, is not finished. - Wendy Janzen To breathe the fresh morning air,
To observe the variety of tracks in the snow, To greet the crow flying overhead, To hear the joyful chirping of birds, To admire the silhouette of an old tree in front of the rising sun, To feel the bright, warm sun on my cold skin: This is to be alive and to remember I am not alone. - Wendy Janzen Sometimes grandeur is great -
mountains and sunsets and oceans and such... But sometimes all I need is simplicity - a wildflower, a birdsong, a bit of blue sky, my feet connected to the good earth, the colour green, not much to do, someone to sit with, a cup of coffee, a prayer on the breeze - simple sabbath gifts to fill my soul and remind me that ordinary, everyday moments are holy too. - Wendy Janzen Sinking...
I dive beneath dark water, immersed and held briefly in another world. Surfacing, I breathe deeply. Floating face to the sky, with each exhale I sink slightly. I align my body to the sinking sun in the hazy sky; a brilliant orange path glistens across the water, reflects fires burning in the northwest, points right to my feet. My heart sinks with the knowledge we are all sinking, burning, melting choking. God, save us from ourselves. Have mercy on us. Have mercy on the Earth, on the trees, sky, glaciers, communities, and creatures… Save us from this path of self destruction. Save us from sinking into oblivion. You are our bright light, fresh air, quenching rain, enduring solace, solid ground, our hope beyond hope. - Wendy Janzen Sometimes I see the world in poetry...
words shimmering like light just behind or within everything I see. But neither word nor image do justice to the beauty, the wonder, the deeper meaning. To simply witness is enough. To feel in my bones something more is going on. To trust this sacred moment and say thank you. - Wendy Janzen |
AuthorReflections, poetry, prayers, photos, and resources written by Wendy Janzen unless otherwise noted. Archives
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