Today I am going to be helping out at my church's Fall Fun Fest. All of us volunteers are supposed to wear a particular t-shirt-- it's bright purple and says "Grace Episcopal Church Fall Fun Fest" on the front. The shirt also has a "Jesus fish" on it. Is it bad of me that I'm tempted to get a white fabric paint pen and draw little feet on the Jesus fish?
The really cool part, though, is that probably no one at my church would mind in the slightest if I did. :-)
Here is an old poem I resurrected for filler in the church newsletter. (I usually write a monthly article, but didn't have time this month, so the parishioners are being subjected to my ancient poetry.) This is from 2/11/97-- a lifetime ago! But it's sill relevant to me, so why not?
The song of the Angels is being sung.
I hear them in my sleepy dreams,
or in the twilight place
between asleep and awake.
Celestial voices rising,
rising to the stars.
It is the song of all glory,
all love and all life
are contained within it.
It is the song of creation unfolding,
of diversity of creatures,
and of the similarity
between a galaxy and an amoeba.
It is the song of all names.
It is the song that makes us all ourselves,
and it is the song that makes us all part of each other.
God's pattern is sung in the song,
intricate harmonies and melodies,
counterpoint and chords,
woven somehow all together
to make us all a whole.