I asked for a stone

I asked for your glory to settle on me
like overnight snow 
                          like pine needle carpets 
                                                    like petals suspended in water 

I asked for a token of the kingdom 
like a windowsill hyacinth 
                         like lingering incense 
                                                   like light through cupped fingers 

I asked for a cleft in the rock 
for your shadow, your whisper, your back
I asked to glean beauty 
the leftovers, the last straws, the dregs

I asked for a stone
 		           for just enough 
                                       to endure

you gave me the stone, the hushed snow, 
                         and the one bloom

                                                   and all the falls of Niagara too

my photos

(A little fyi: if you’re reading this on a phone, the desktop view or instagram post might look nicer with the formatting. ;) )

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!

Matthew 7:9-11

There have been times I have asked for bread and not received it, and I’m still not sure whether it’s just taking a long time to bake or it has already showed up and just looks different than I thought.

But most of the time I haven’t even asked for bread at all.

I don’t even realize it, usually. There are these things in my heart that I hold onto like secret gems, only examining them in the midnight light, afraid lest anyone else will find them. Or there are things in my mind I constantly ponder, running over them like a hamster on a wheel. And then it hits me one day that as much as I’ve imagined them, thought about them, run my hands over them, I’ve never asked for them. From the one who could actually give them to me.

Maybe it’s because it hurts more to ask and not receive than to never ask at all.

But then I hold up for myself memories like this one, of a spring of stress, of darkness I didn’t know what to do with, and the little, blessed things I held on to that kept me going—which in themselves were more than enough—and even that was more than I thought to ask for.

And then my friends and I happened to take a trip to Niagara, and I remember turning down the street that ran parallel to the falls and seeing them for the first time, the bright shock of the sight, like we had stepped into a screensaver or a fairy tale. I remember how that day was perfect in every way, just crammed full of beauty, more than we could possibly absorb or appreciate. Lavish excess, superabundance, grace upon grace. The roar was so thunderous we felt in our bodies for hours afterward. The spray on our faces, the warm sunlight, the rainbows appearing and disappearing at every new angle. The sun setting over Lake Ontario, turning it into a sheet of opal that stretched in every direction.

I had asked for tiny glimpses of goodness to keep going, and he gave me those—and then he gave me Niagara too.

“He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine,” Paul says.

Moses asked to see God’s glory and he did—“I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence,” God tells him. He shows Moses only his back because if he saw God’s face he would die, and I say “only” but even that sight is more than what anyone could ask for. A radical request and even more radical granting of it.

And then, and then, God comes as a person and we see all of him. Jesus. God-with-us.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:14

I mean. What?

So anyway, I didn’t mean for this to become a full-on sermon but the point is that this story of humanity and God, your life story and my life story, is all about asking and receiving—and even more often, not asking and still receiving more than we could’ve thought to ask for in the first place.

What is the stone you have asked for? What is the bread you received instead?

---

In Other Words…

Next week:

I am trying something new in my next post, a kind of crowdsourcing workshop on a couple poems of mine, so stay tuned for that! I’m excited.

Goodreads reviews:

This book is, alas, not on goodreads but I finished Hannah of Resurrection Poetry’s self-published collection Change of State, and it was the most beautiful way to start my day the past month. Easily five stars. Her account is a highly recommend insta follow too.

Other reviews:

Moira's Pen: A Queen's Thief Collection by Megan Whalen Turner (4 stars) | Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Smith (4 stars) | From Physics to Metaphysics by Michael Redhead (3 stars)

I am still way behind on my goal, but I’ve read 30 books this year which is a satisfying number to reach. And I’m in the middle of rereading Rhythm of War by Brandon Sanderson to prepare for the next book in the series which releases next month (!!) so that’s been a great way to start the fall.

May your fall be filled with good books, lots of apple-related food, and bold requests.

to staying awake,

Aberdeen