Hold fast, says the writer of Hebrews.
It’s May again, and
tendrils of vine
finger our wall,
inching along
toward the shadows
where each rosy tip
swells, anchoring
like the little pads
on a gecko’s feet.
Each breathes,
feels for the vertical
with sinewy
footings, splayed yet
elastic. Only
the plant’s steps
leave a mark (We are
still here), a hidden
holdfast
beneath unfurling leaves.
“Holdfasts,” we call them. In the plant world they anchor vines, lichens, even various seaweeds to some form of substrate or structure.
Here’s the author of Hebrews again, this time in The Message: “[Y]ou need to stick it out. . . . It won’t be long now . . . stay with it and survive, trusting all the way.”
Will our faith count for more than a ghosting remembrance, a slight stain left behind in places we’ve been, amid people and flora and fauna we’ve loved? Where’s the beauty in that?
Amid all that fractures within and around us, is sticking it out enough?
Author Sarah Clarkson writes, “God gives us beauty, not as his argument but as his offering—a gift that immerses us in something that allows us to touch hope, to taste healing, to tangibly encounter something opposite to disintegration . . .”
As Virginia Creeper clings to our wall, and as dementia stalks our path, Dreamer and I try to hold fast to this promise: By God’s gift, believers possess the mind of Christ.
Friends in the faith, I also know this. Whatever our reach, our literal touch—curtailed as it is—often embodies Jesus touching others through us.
Remember the gentle practice of prayer via the laying on of hands, in the Savior’s name? Love, with skin on.
When God’s love supports and directs our growth, it also anchors our rooting as well as our reaching.
“It is Christ, working through us, who does this,” Ronald Rolheiser writes. “The power is still with God, not with us, but in the incarnation God has chosen, marvelously, to let his power flow though us, to let our flesh give reality to his power.”
Oh look! A swoosh of iridescence overhead—a swallow, circling the vines that wreathe our birdhouse. Half-hidden, it crowns the retaining wall. Beyond, in the crab apple tree a reedy voice calls up a song. Her mate? She makes another pass, swooping closer. As if she remembers. As if she knows somewhere amid the tangle a haven awaits.
She carries a twig in her beak . . .
then enters the opening.
God, our holdfast, be here with us in the shadows.
Friends, what helps you hold fast?
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Autumn Creeper Photo by Sam Goodgame on Unsplash
Vines with lantern: Photo by Yurii Zinets on Unsplash
B&W Vines around Windows Photo by Greg Willson on Unsplash
A profound book that keeps reminding me Christ is our Vine and we are the branches:
“Each breathes,
feels for the vertical
with sinewy
footings, splayed yet
elastic. Only
the plant’s steps
leave a mark (We are
still here), a hidden
holdfast
beneath unfurling leaves.”
This poem and post are beautiful and rich in seeing the reach – and offering hope. Thank you.
“God, our holdfast, be here with us in the shadows.”
Yes.
Thank you, Laurie for bringing these thoughts up to the surface for us here, in the midst of everything that’s going on. I continue to pray for you, your husband, and family, my friend.
So glad you also included the perspective of Sarah Clarkson. “God gives us beauty, not as his argument but as his offering—a gift that immerses us in something that allows us to touch hope, to taste healing, to tangibly encounter something opposite to disintegration . . .”
“The opposite of disintegration.” <3 YES. A moment of relief – a keyhole through the dark clouds. I love this idea of how beauty is not canceling out the pain and saying the world is all fabulous all the time. It might be a way of saying, in this moment, and maybe future moments, there is something else too–
Bethany, thank you for lifting out lines that spoke to you. That is a gift to me.
I am so grateful for your prayers! (And you and your family have mine, as well.)
I am reading the Clarkson book for the second time. Her wisdom and writing both transport and challenge so beautifully.
I am behind in my correspondence and apologize. Lots of spinning plates these days . . .
Thank you so much for reaching out as well as “seeing the reach … and hope” and affirming them!
The writings of a certain scribe and others such as Michele Morin, Christie Purifoy, Jody Collins are holdfasts for me. Sisters in Christ ever pointing us back to Him.
Such good company! Now I must find out who Michele Morin is.
Where would we be without sisters who speak into our hopes and sorrows?!
Thank you, Katie <3
And again Laurie, my eyes fill with tears, heart softened by the incredible Presence of the Divine One in the words you have shared. Love you and Dreamer oh SO much!
Oh, my tender-hearted friend, I’m beyond grateful to read that you’ve sensed the Presence here. Thank you so much for letting me know.
We love you and are praying for you two as well!
Another stunning poem, Laurie. No one I know can pluck just the right word out of thousands, providing pinpoint accuracy of meaning and the delight of the unexpected–all at the same time! / The God-engineered miracles of spring help me hold fast–the greening of the landscape, the mystical appearance of flowers, the bird symphony among the trees, and more. GOD makes all these things happen every year, proving his ability to bring life from death and keep creation orderly and reliable. I’m also empowered to hold fast through scripture. SO many wonderful passages of encouragement and hope!
Oh Nancy, thank you.
The signs of spring you mention make my fingers pause on the keys . . . over lilacs, here, and mourning doves with their fluting sighs and quail with their bubbly chorus.
It is so deeply good to greet these summer harbingers yet again, little proofs of God’s faithfulness to the earth and to us. Thank you, friend, for the mini-oasis!
I’m thinking of a Ricky Rap…
1. A friend’s husband was recently diagnosed with dementia
2. Their brokenness takes her writing deeper still
3. Even when she includes the offering of another
4. “God gives us beauty,
5. Not as his argument but as his offering
6. A gift that immerses us
7. In something that allows us to touch hope,
8. To taste healing,
9. To tangibly encounter something
10. Opposite to disintegration . . .”*
*Sarah Clasrkson
What a cool idea! I hope you do. Sorry I’m so late in responding. Medical appointments every day this week. Hope you went ahead and posted it. I think Friday is your day?
Posted today
Hopped on to view it. Thanks for sharing Sarah’s wise words. I hope it brings her more readers!
Praying for you and yours . . .
Oh my friend, how your words are a balm today–I’ve been wondering about you and Dreamer.
God with skin on, indeed; this echo has been resounding through my reading lately, too. Just was introduced to Matt and Julie Canlis’ work at Godspeed dot org. and currently reading Julie’s book “Theology of the Ordinary.”
It’s all about walking at the pace of Jesus and living at “Godspeed”-a reminder I so desperately need.
Sending prayers your way.
xo
Jody, thank you for thinking of us. And thank you for the book recommendation. I love the title. It reminds me of Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren. Shoot me a quote now and then? I’m up to the ole eyeballs in research and recipes and online classes most days.
So grateful for you and for your prayers. And yes, for the reminder to live at “Godspeed”! Seems to work best for me when I move at the pace I can still sense God’s presence, or whisper, or elbow . . .
Poetry, the practice of writing, my love’s smiles and hugs, the bravery of sycamores in winter sunlight are a few of the things that help me hold fast. May God bless you and Dreamer and keep you and make his face to shine upon you, dear Laurie.
Judith, that is one beautiful list. Like the mature sycamore with its outer bark peeling away to reveal glimpses of its youth in the underlying colors, we notice we can sometimes appreciate the mottled patterns of life in new ways. I think that’s partly because of people like you praying for us. Thank you.
And thank you so much for the copy of Sorority of Stillness! It came yesterday. I will be gratefully re-immersing soon!!
My holdfast is gratitude. Sounds cliche. An easy “right” answer. But I’ve found a different species of that common bird. Through unexpected hard things. Unfixable circumstance. There it is singing away. Immune to scarcity the song goes on and on. Heartening everything that hears it. Me included.
Amen Susan!
I love this notion of gratitude “singing away” amid and beneath all manner of hardship! Heartening all who pause to listen. It gives me a new dimension on thankfulness. Thank you!