Blog on the Lillypad
Sunday, October 19, 2003
 | To My Brother on His Birthday
What better gift to give to you then hand your life to you again, or keep it, dear to me, as God's own sacred charge, until you're ready to receive it? What am I giving back to you but what you gave to me? When I speak, and other hear, it's you that taught me how to frame my words. When I forego my rough ways and cultivate others instead, it's because you cultivated me at first. You refined me, made me someone I could be, a person to whom I aspire, brother--so like you, yet also so much more myself than I had ever been except that you took charge of me. All of this came from you, all this mind, all this sense to see into the matters that beset us in our respective spheres, all of this I got from you. God makes no accidents; and nothing comes by chance. You were right where He put you when I was sinking down. Now, He can hardly hold me back from wanting to be the person He puts in place to hand you back your life. |
Who is the knight in the picture, brother? Is it you, coming out to gently cultivate a sorrow back to joy? Or me, charging out to say the exact right thing? Who can tell us apart when we act according to the compassion of God? Let us be frequently mistaken for the other, images stamped by divine compassion that found us in our sorrow and used us to help, hold, keep, give, secure the other. Time can only ripen all the good you did for me. May God implant in your heart and mind the good I do for you, and over years to come, cultivate your joy and spirit, hear all your prayers, forgive your sins, renew your mind, restore your soul, rebuild your home.
