Sophia, Sophie, and Grace

Sophia Bed

 

I recently went on a weekend retreat. It was at a location I had never been to before with a group of people I had never met. I was thinking reminded that morning of something from a long time ago in which I had stated that purple is my favorite color. When I arrived at the location, there were two houses. I was assigned to one of the houses and asked to pick a single bed bedroom. The only one inside had the name “Sophia” on the door. The bedspread was a beautiful purple. The name “Sophia” has a special meaning for me, as my blog is called Sophiasvoice. Sophia stands for wisdom, and my blog site is dedicated to my dog Sophie, who died two and a half years ago.

I instantly felt comfort, and that I had come to a place where I belonged.  I had a lovely time and felt in my spirit that my one word to focus on especially is the word “Grace.”  Grace that comes from God, and that I extend to others, and the grace that comes from poise, in learning to be graceful with ballet and dance, playing violin, and all the other artistic pursuits that I dream about and love.

fish cross

Right after nearly sharing a post of a meme with three old ladies and their forgetfulness, I sat in my car with the garage door down, engine running, and my kitchen door (connected to the garage) open. I was waiting for my son to come out to the car so that I could drive him to school. After a bit of time, he came around to the passenger side and told me to open the garage door. I touched the button and the door didn’t budge. I touched it again, relieved that it began to open. As we backed out, I started feeling a little dizzy, perhaps at just the thought of what could have happened, and I opened our windows to the fresh air. He had to remind me to close the garage door before I drove off.

In a parallel universe, am I already gone from the world? Maybe I shut the kitchen door instead of leaving it open, and I slowly faded away, or my son didn’t come around because of another decision. Has my soul in some part passed on to a lesson review? I started thinking during the drive about how short life really is.  I saw a truck pass by with the same last name printed on it as that of a fine musician friend, who died a few years back.  I thought to myself, “Yes, he would probably agree; life is much shorter than we think.”

Will I ever know the effect I have on other people? I wonder if my soul goes through little deaths in those other places.

Will other people know? I have a feeling that everyone who is tuned in learns from this divine dimensional dysfunctional delusion, when deliberate.

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday About Her

Felt

Happy

Blessed

Her presence always somehow

in my heart

When she’s not there

she is

Her peace and love

not a saving grace

nor a desperate call

No disappointment

Just a holding place,

a Chosen grace

The remnants of her last embrace

These things

physically rationed

out to my garden heart

The magnetic force of love

I have

her

condensed and over-flowing

love peace sending

care without a word for days

Her affection joins

and blesses

She blesses

She

 

 

Warmth

If it gets much keener, I will sync into the brilliance of heart thought, layered in pink folds of tender softness. My crimes of glory, of glee, of gladness are consumed inside the blanket, its softness upon my lap. With Snow White rap, I cover myself in, with the wind. In the snow, at night, when I’m playing, I am praying; when I’m lying, soft peaks are rising in the stillness of almost sleep. I feel the arms of the hearts of my loved ones inside this lamb-like skin, this fleece cap of free-flowing thought. I am the wind as it whispers through the leaves. So please these leaves; the river steals them but to us they cleave. They do not burn, they do not gather. They are trod upon with snow and rain and the feet of man, but they always exist in the soil. Let’s bring them back to life, for in the blooms they shall not spoil.

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