“Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?” says the Lord.
“Do I close up the womb when I bring to delivery?” says your God. —Isa. 66:9
Bless, O God, the pure ideas of the heart that come
on sympathetic winds and germinate on fertile ground
within. Help us nurture them; protect them from a
summer day too hot, a storm too violent.
And make them sturdy, to withstand
the well-meant cautionary words of relatives and friends who
want us to be safe and wish to spare us disappointment.
Make in each of us a garden well supplied with sun and rain, and
teach us husbandry. May we be strong and clear of sight, and thus
not lightly swayed from our intentions; if we are convinced that you
began the planting as a gift of work and purpose, may
we not abandon it.
How will we know a grand idea from a flight of fancy? I think
if it is heaven-sent it will be eager and exuberant. Perhaps its fruit
will heal the sick or feed the hungry, shade the weary, school
the wise, or simply yield delight, a place of loveliness radiant
with love, a feast for pilgrims’ eyes.
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Photo © Luc Viatour GFDL/CC