Friday, June 12, 2015

Inspiration in the Mundane


Hi, Dina here. Recently during my local book club, one of my friends shared this poem. I found it kind of brilliant, so I wanted to share it with all of you. I think you will relate with it. Be blessed!

Hammershøi Dust Motes Dancing

ODE TO A KITCHEN FLOOR
by Angela Andrews

‘Tis wonderment to me

When I see heaven-honey

Pour through my kitchen door.

I look up to see The Source,

But He cleverly hides Himself

In the clearest light to ever

Touch our musty orb.


In His brilliant, pure invisibility,

He traces my face

with a whisper breeze

while touching the world wide.


Caressing me, the newborn babes,

The wee flower buds and their

chrysalis company – while shining

light where the helpless wait to

grasp His infinity.


At my kitchen door,

My heart responds just as hungrily.

Fill me up O Lord and also cover me.

Now on my knees the light refracts,

in its travels, travels over me.


I feel His arms encircle me.

Frothy mirth and rich delight ripple,

He and me. My eyes wide open

to search such beauty. Surprised,

the travelling rays have moved along,

almost from my periphery.

But there is more to see and

more to learn back here on my knees.


I drink the lingering rays.

Tho’ pure and bright while standing up,

From here that is not what I now see.

He gave me manna strength and clear vision

to see what my child–mind of long ago

said were crystal diamond jewelry.

The dust floats down, shimmers in His light,

But landing on yesterday’s gleaming floor

Instantly becomes wretched dust ----

Dirt to be removed once more.


Frustrated, I stand and clutch my broom.

I sweep the kitchen floor with His strength.

I sweep my heart even more.

I no longer dread this perpetual task,

Because of Him I know,

As I clean my kitchen floor,

He gently and daily cleans me.


Can you share a time when you unexpectedly found God in everyday life?
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3 comments:

  1. Anita Mae DraperJune 14, 2015 at 9:26 AM

    When we used to have goats I'd have to leave my cozy kitchen behind and go down to milk them. Many times as I trudged along the rising sun would warm my back and I'd turn to greet God's splendor. I would be filled with songs of praise that would carry me through for the rest of the day.

    Kudos to the author of this poem, Dina.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dina SleimanJune 22, 2015 at 10:42 AM

    Thanks for sharing that, Anita :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Dina SleimanJune 22, 2015 at 10:42 AM

    Thanks for sharing that, Anita :)

    ReplyDelete

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