Come, o my weary soul: see the barren trees there waiting faithfully for spring; see the clouds licking wistfully at the sky; lay down on your back and feel the earth heaving in rotation; feel your own chest heaving with breath. Let creation hold your weariness and teach you the depth of its peace.
Come, o my mourning soul: touch the streaks of salt as they dry on your cheek; taste the sting of salt in the foaming ocean waves; listen to the seagull’s impatient cry; and hurl your lament against life at the relentless tide. Let your tears be comforted by joining the earth’s own stream of tears.
Come, o my restless soul: feel the wind driving and disorienting you; marvel as it patiently molds the most stubborn of rocks across centuries; get up and pace the length of the corn field; watch the endlessly shifting dance of the starlings. Let your agitation find its song sung in nature’s modulations.
Come, o my dying soul: count the pinpoints of light from stars long gone; clear your eyes to watch the dawn; recite again the promise of God’s mercy arriving like the sun; paint on your heart the beauty of life and love — paint it even on the scars! Let your tongue echo the heavens, “Great is thy faithfulness!”
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