I awoke this morning to the felt sense
Of the faces and voices who
Have graciously, abundantly given to my life,
Filling me with hope, desire, life
And thanks, most of all, thanks.
Thank you, dear coach, for urging me
To invite others—concrete faces and voices
To join me on this journey—
That of this season of discernment,
And moreover, the seasons (hopefully man) of my life.
Twelve years ago I remember
That friend who in his early morning exuberance
Said, “Good morning, Mollie!” each morning in Mississippi,
And then drew a picture on the airline napkin
Of the trip I didn’t know would change my life—
The companionship and love
So freely given by this beautiful man
Who no longer greets me in the morning
Or calls to speak of nothing but silliness
And yet said so very much more—
How many others between then and now
Have graciously come and gone
Offering evidence of our belonging to this world, this place—
Today, it is the four whom I’ve asked to walk with me
In whose faces I see,
Whose voices I hear
The very presence of Love itself.
I could go on and on and on
For pages, pages of thanks
For this love given—
The miracle of opening
To this gift called life.