Laurie Klein, Scribe

immerse in God, emerge refreshed

Dear Ones, a Gift for You

by 13 Chiming In

Dear readers, for seven years you have greatly encouraged and inspired me — as well as one another. I want to thank you with a gift.

This past year God has gently redeemed my insomnia. Over time, a series of linked reveries emerged. My genius friend, Sally Mowbray, graphics designer extraordinaire, has beautifully formatted the words with vibrant images captured by Unsplash photographers.

My cherished Writer’s Group urged me to make a recording. To that end, Dreamer and I have worked separately as well as together in his studio, interspersing words with music, most of it composed by my beloved, aka Bill Klein, some of it arranged by our brilliant friend, Chris Lobdell.

Today, with great joy, we’re releasing “Reveries: Matins — a soundscape for respite.”

With three clicks you can download the text with visuals as well as listen to the narrated version with original music —either separately, or simultaneously. (If you choose to experience both at one time, you’ll notice the song “Calvary” replaces the “Trinity-wick Breath Prayer” in the audio version.)

An introductory letter (text version only) suggests several ways you might use the material, if so in-kleined (couldn’t resist).

To view and/or listen, please scroll to the menu bar above and click on “Reveries.” From there you can choose your experience via “Soundcloud” (red arrow) and “view text and photo here” (download PDF).

Dear ones, and you truly are, we hope you enjoy them!

lauriekleinscribe logo

I’m also grateful to have a new poem about insomnia and prayer appear today on a website created by my stellar editor, D. S. Martin.  You can read it here.

Photo of gift in pink paper by Ekaterina Shevchenko on Unsplash

Gate photo, Laurie Klein (Filoli, Woodside, CA)

From the archives: You might also enjoy Soul Mimosa — Photos & Music or perhaps this post featuring haikus and photos, Hai*Pho — No, it’s not a new entree . . .

All Hail, All the Time

by 6 Chiming In

Hail, hail, everywhere . . .

Long beams of Easter light from the west brushed across our icy yard, as if with a magic wand.

Hail, on EasterI was setting the table for our daughter’s birthday party. Mid-cutlery, thunder rolled, making me glance up. Ice pelted the roof, yet the sun blazed.

Pure glint dosey-do-ed with gravity
as compacted snow
pummeled our cars, the deck, and lawn.Hail on deck

Who could ignore this dangerous, glittering, magical racket?

Hurrying outside, camera in hand, I wanted to capture the fleeting, crystallized scene:Hail seen through birch boughs

trees lit with daylight constellations . . .

shrubs decked in white sapphires . . .

a sequinned gown for the limpid air.

Hail clings to birch twigs

Hail hits hard, like bad news

It can hammer a heart, gouge inner peace. Along comes a death, or dire diagnosis. A career setback. A family feud or a friend’s downward spiral.

Amid too many grim tidings lately I call to mind God’s storehouses of snow, mentioned in Job,

the plague of hail in ancient Egypt,

those predicted hailstones in Revelation. In each case, God’s mastery over weather is on display, though I struggle to feel positive about the human price paid.

What am I missing here?

Hail, tell us your secrets

Though perilous, hail showers are also spellbinding, glorious, a glistening force that transfigures landscapes. And, perhaps, lives. It’s working on mine today . . .

Hail, noun: precipitation in the form of small balls or lumps usually consisting of concentric layers of clear ice and compact snow.

Hail, verb (archaic): used to express acclaim. “Hail favored one! Hail Caesar! Hail, King of the Jews! Hail, Mary! Hail to the Chief!”

Hale, homonym, adjective: to be free from defect, disease, or infirmity : sound; also: retaining exceptional health and vigor (Merriam-Webster).

Hail storm and blue chairHail, teach us your ways

Lord knows, I need instruction. Feeling neither vigorous nor exultant at the moment, I’m writing this post having woken up crying, twice, during the night. Having teared up again, several times today.

Am I depressed? Maybe. Too early to tell. I gaze at this photo of the weathered chair beneath our crab apple tree, festooned with icy finery. Marvel lightens my sorrow—a few degrees.

No matter how I feel, the God of fire and hail offers respites along the way. A pause. A dose of wonder despite my inability to catalogue or corral my emotions.

Soon now, I will venture outside with my camera and hunt more evidence of God’s shining presence within all that remains unsolved in my soul. My pleas for the healing of loved ones. The final home-going of family. The recent relational storm that laid bare my need for forgiveness.

Fire, and hail; snow, and vapors; stormy wind fulfilling his word. – Psalm 148:8

I am counting on this: that everything eventually fits into God’s larger story, even volatile weather of the heart. Be it exultant or quiet acclamation, this I aspire to—no matter the weather, or season, event, or prognosis. The news. My mood. Or even our nation’s final candidates.

Grace comes. The light changes. Blues, you lose this round.

It’s neither hail nor storm… It’s just a stir that precedes the settlement of your destiny. Believe that you will not remain on the ground. Wake up and try again! ―Israelmore Ayivor, Dream Big: See Your Bigger Picture!

Laurie Klein, Scribe