Welsh Cakes Blog No Longer Active

I will not be writing anymore posts on this blog.

I have a new blog titled Contemplative without a Cloister.
http://judith-lawrence.blogspot.com

This will be to supplement my new book, Highway of Holiness: Soul Journey, which is available at http://wipfandstock.com

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Hallelujah

We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.
(Paraphrase: Ephesians 1:12)

I will praise the Lord for waking me to this new day
With all its hope and promise.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.
I will praise the Lord for opening my eyes to this new day
To see the sky lighten in the east from whence comes the Son of Man.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.

I will praise the Lord for opening my ears to this new day
To hear the birds sing their morning praise to God.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.

I will praise the Lord for opening my hands to this new day
To feel the textures of creation: the grass and stone and earth.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.

I will praise the Lord for opening my nose to this new day
To smell the scents of nature’s bounty: the flowers and the rain.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory.

I will praise the Lord for opening my mouth to this new day
To taste the nourishment of harvest: water, bread and berries sweet.
We who set our hope on Christ
Live for the praise of His glory,
Live to thank him for His gifts,
Live to thank him for His bounty.
Hallelujah! Praise the Lord, O my soul!

Book Trailer: Highway of Holiness: Soul Journey

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Creation Unfolds

"The entire world is a divine scripture unfolding like cosmic prayer."
Entering the Castle by Caroline Myss

As all creation unfolds
Energy explodes in prayer.

The butterfly emerging
From the chrysalis
Opens its wings and
Flies aloft in prayer.

Bulbs’ leaves push through
The lately snow-covered
Ground and petals
Open in flowers of
Crocus, daffodil,
Lily and hyacinth.




Baby birds emerge from
Eggs and fledge from
Nests in a matter of days.
Young wild animals
Mature in a matter of months.


They write creation
On the forest floor
Flora and fauna alike
Unfold in cosmic prayer.




Humans, evolving into
Spiritual beings, unfold
Slowly and steadily,
Their souls open to
God like lotus petals
In the morning sun.

Book Trailer: Highway of Holiness: Soul Journey

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Glory

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Christ is risen from the dead.
His tomb is empty—
An angel sits where laid Christ’s head.
Christ is walking in the garden
He will speak your name.
If you seek him, he will be with you;
He will reveal himself to you.
Talk to him and he will answer;
Follow him and he will lead you,
In the way that you should go.
Hallelujah! Christ is risen,
Christ is risen from the dead.

Book Trailer: Highway of Holiness: Soul Journey

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Hummingbird Watch

I waited and watched
from the middle of April.
I knew it was too early.

It hung there
like a red jewel
reflecting the sun’s rays.

I replenished its strawberry shape
with fresh sweet-water
every few days.


One week into May
I heard the hum of his wings
and saw him in his ruby-throated splendor.

He was the first of many to come -
the expected one -
the harbinger of summer’s migration.

He stopped only for strength
for the journey,
then pressed on further north.

Others will come and stay until September,
when their departure
will herald the coming of winter.

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Trailer for Highway of Holiness: Soul Journey by Judith Lawrence coming soon

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Easter Garden

In the garden
Where I wept
Jesus called my name.

Rowan Tree

A Conversation between Christ and the Rowan Tree

O Rowan Tree, weep not for me.
Limb on limb, I lie outstretched,
Thou hold’st me up in thine own arms,
Thou cradlest me from birth.
Weep not, weep not, O Rowan Tree,
Weep not for me.

O Christ, I can’st but weep for Thee,
I sorrow to be the instrument of torture for Thy limbs.
My tears pour down in steady flow,
The sap pours from my wounds,
Where nails have held Thee fast to me.
I did but wish to cradle Thee as in the manger days,
And now I weep from guilt.
Sorrowing, I weep for Thee.

O Rowan Tree, thou should’st not weep,
The sin is man’s not thine.
See, here, I bless thy flowing tears
And make them drops of wine.
Blood red, henceforth, thy berries be,
Thy berries, red as blood,
Thy tears, blood red as wine,
Wine red, as my own blood.

Quiet Moment

My spirit cannot gain a quiet moment,
It cannot hear your voice out in the world
Amongst the mighty torrent that surrounds it
From morning radio blare to traffic roar.
Too many images bombard my tired eyes
And holiness is lost
Within the tragic sights
Of murder, war, and cruelty on nightly news.

A breath of quiet calls me to the wilderness
To heal my inward ears and eyes;
To give my soul and spirit rest
In open desert and oasis shade.
I pitch my tent beneath the spacious skies
And count the heavenly bodies bright above.
Each star pronounces healing to my troubled sighs
Through the Creator’s vast and wondrous love.

Here in the wilderness, my restless anguish is released.
My soul and body, mind and spirit
Open to renewal, like flowers in the sun;
I am freed to see and hear the truth again.
I prepare to walk into the world once more
To offer myself in God’s service,
To give myself in Christ’s love.
Here I am, receive me; here I am, send me.

Desert Sands

Desert sands call to us
Oases bring us rest and shade;
Lenten hours of quiet time
Renew us in our faith.

Forty Days of Wilderness

Forty days of wilderness
You ask of me, Lord;
What is it I am to seek?
What is it I am to find?

Forty days of wilderness
You give to me, Lord;
What will be your gift to me?
What will be your treasure?

I desire to seek you Lord;
I desire to find you.
You give the gift of your presence, Lord,
That will be my treasure.

Lenten Pilgrimage

I follow Christ in desert places
And there I find fresh springs.
I am led by the Holy Spirit
To search out my journey’s path;

I am a pilgrim in wilderness ways.

In desert’s scorching days
I seek the Sacred One;
In desert’s coldest nights
I search out the Divine;
In desert’s oases I seek the Holy One
And I am given rest and refreshment.

I am a pilgrim in wilderness ways;
I am a pilgrim on desert paths.

Christ's Wilderness

In the wilderness
Alone with the Father,
Christ searched his thoughts,
His heart, his soul.
For forty scorching days,
For forty freezing nights,
Christ searched for truth and honesty.
The devil taunted, tempted him,
Christ withstood it all.
Tired, hungry but stronger
Christ turned from the wilderness pause.
He faced his destiny,
Ready to do God’s will.
Angels supported him;
Disciples learned from him;
People flocked to him and were healed.

A Tale of Two Times

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together.
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 5

In my youth
I threw away the stones
That impeded my progress.

The stones of family,
Which held me down:
The stone of a mother’s love,
Which I thought was hate
Because it hurt.
The stone of a father’s love,
Because I didn’t understand
His need of me.

The stone of religion,
Because I’d outgrown it.

The stone of country
Because I moved away
To a land more large and free.

*

In my maturity
I gather the stones together again
To build a home.

The stones of family
And ancestors:
The stone of a mother’s love,
Cleansed of late
With tears of understanding.
The stone of a father’s love,
Redeemed by the love and care
Of a surrogate father.

The stone of religion,
Split into gems innumerable
With many facets, polished into brilliance,
Reflecting God’s spirit in my life.

The stone of my country,
My Celtic heritage,
Given pride of place in my new home
Of Canada.

*

The stones
I threw away in my youth,
I now gather
In my maturity,
To prepare a dolmen,
A holy dwelling,
For my soul’s eternity.

Morning Moon

This morning when the sky was getting light,
The moon—cream coloured,
Round-shaped—a disc, a ball,
Sat above the trees.
The sun was not yet above the horizon
But would soon be,
For the sun was lighting the sky
But without blue,
Not yet blue.

Open and Receive

Open you mind to the new,
Open your arms to the gifts,
Open your reach to the fullest,
Open your imagination to the possibilities,
Open your anima to the future.

Receive peace from love of one another,
Receive enjoyment from togetherness,
Receive triumph from the stars,
Receive empowerment from the Universe,
Above all reach out in love.

Ideas

Ideas, like seeds,
Fall on the mind’s
Rich soil.

Ideas, like seeds,
Put down roots,
Words spring forth.

Ideas can grow,
To become a poem,
A story, a novel,

A speech,
If you nurture them.
It’s up to you.

Will you water them,
Nourish them,
Give them light and air—
Room to grow?

Or will you let them
Lie on dry ground
Dying from neglect?
It’s up to you.

© Judith Lawrence

Passion

Passion is the
Life of Love;
Passion is the
Heart of Suffering.

Neglect not Love,
Leaving Passion
On the ground;
Refuse not Suffering,
Allowing Passion
To wither away.

Run not from Passion,
Leaving it far behind,
Dying of thirst;
Let not Passion lie
On the dusty roadside,
Sorrowing from neglect.

Take up Love of Life
Wholeheartedly,
See Passion flame
And burn up hate.
When Suffering comes,
Take it on,
Let Passion overpower it
From within.

Passion is the
Love of Life;
Passion is the
Suffering of the Heart.

© Judith Lawrence

Kitchen

The kitchen is the centre of the home, the place where all can gather together, sharing warmth, food, and conversation. This is where the provider of nourishment serves the household and reigns supreme. The provider of nourishment is at one and the same time the servant and the monarch.

In wintertime, the kitchen is where warmth can be found; generated by baking and cooking in the oven, and boiling of kettles for tea and pots of vegetables or stew. Here, too, is where the mother figure provides generous hugs along with freshly baked treats as they appear hot from the oven.

In summertime, before the advent of air-conditioning or microwaves to keep the kitchens cool in hot, humid days, the pioneers had summer kitchens where cooking and baking could be done outside the main house—protected from rain but open to the air and cooling breezes.

Nowadays, of course, there are bakeries, super-markets, and restaurants where we can get a ready-made meal for our families without having to heat up our homes and make ourselves uncomfortable.

I bake my own bread and muffins on a regular basis. Because I am diabetic, I feel it is better for me—I know the ingredients and can avoid too much sweetener and fat. For about five years I have used a bread machine to bake my bread but recently I have had trouble with the machines. They have been breaking down too often and I wasn’t willing to put out the extra money needed to replace the poorly made machines so often.

I have gone back to mixing and kneading the ingredients by hand, a more time-consuming method of rising and baking the bread; I love the feel of the living dough beneath my hands—the trinity of turns bringing the yeast to life—and the smell of the baking bread in my kitchen.

The kitchen is the centre of the home, the place where the bread and nourishment of life is found, and the place where family, friends and guests can gather, feel at home and share the love.

The Wiles, Wisdom and Beauty of Judith

I wrote the following piece under the topic, On Being a Woman, in 2009 for the Summer Writing Group in Muskoka.

Judith from the Apocrypha was a Hebrew woman after whom I was named. She was a devout woman, wise and beautiful, and not beyond using her attributes and wiles in order to stand up for what was right and to help her country. I would hope that I would be like her, if need arose. This is her story.

Judith lived in Bethulia, an Israelite town. Her husband had died from sunstroke while working in the fields and had left her a rich woman. She lived on her estate and after her husband’s death she lived in mourning, fasting and praying in a room she had built on the roof of her house. She feasted only on the Sabbath and on special Jewish holy days.

It was in the time of King Nebuchadnezzar and, like Hitler in our own day, he wanted to rule the world. The town of Bethulia was under siege by the troops of Commander Holophernes and the town citizens were running out of food and water and many were dying. The people wanted to surrender to the enemy in order to save themselves from dying but the officials persuaded them to wait five more days while they came up with a plan or until God showed them favour and saved them.

When Judith heard about this she sent for the magistrates to come to her estate and when they appeared she told them that they were wrong to bargain with God recounting all that God had done for them in the past and would do for them again, if the time was right. They asked her to pray to God to send rain to fill the cisterns so that the people would not die from lack of water. She told them that she would to more than that for she had a plan that would deliver Israel from their enemies and that she could fulfil this plan before the five days were up. All the officials had to do was to not ask her any questions and to open the gates to let her and her maid out of the city at midnight.

Judith then put off her widow’s weeds and dressed herself in her fine clothes and jewelery; she made her face look beautiful “so as to catch the eye of any man who might see her.” She and her maid left Bethulia with provisions of wine and food, which her maid carried in a bag. As they approached the enemy camp they were captured and questioned as to what they were doing. Judith told them that they were running away from her people because she didn’t agree with what they were doing. She told them that she had reliable information to give to their commander so that they could gain command of the hill country without losing any of their men. Holophernes’ men were so overwhelmed by her beauty that they took her to their commander at once.

To make a long story short, Holophernes was taken in by her story. The narrative goes, “They were amazed at her wisdom and beauty.” For the next three days she bided her time and set up the basis for her plan. Each night, with the permission of Holophernes, she and her maid went out of the camp, taking the bag of provisions with them, to purify themselves and pray to God. On the fourth night, Judith was invited into the inner tent of Holophernes where they ate and drank together. Holophernes drank so much that he fell down on his bed, dead drunk.

Judith then took down Holophernes’ sword and cut off his head and she put the head in the food bag. She and her maid then went into the night as usual taking the bag with them. They hurried and returned to Bethulia calling out, as they approached, for the gates to be opened. They let her in and she presented the head of Holophernes to the officials saying, “The Lord has struck him down by the hand of a woman!” When Holophernes’ men discovered his dead body without its head, they panicked and fled. The Israelites army followed them and slaughtered them.

Judith was highly praised and had many suitors in the years to come but she remained unmarried. She gave her maid her freedom. Judith lived to be 105 years old. And the story goes, “No one dared threaten the Israelites again in Judith’s lifetime, or for a long time after her death.

I believe that my father named me after her and, though the Methodist minister did not want to give me that name at my baptism, that is my name and Judith is my hero.

Autumn of my Days

Ah! Comest on the autumn of my days.
When glory wreathes me in rich hues—
Red and gold, yellow and bronze,
Placed on my head in victorious crown

Before the colours die and fall upon the ground.
Then winter will come and wrap me
In its blanket of white,
And I will be at peace
And sleep right through the night,

‘Til spring returns with greening rains,
And gentle breezes melt the icy rime
‘Til warming sun turns rivers’ iron core
Into fast running silver freshets.

And soon, oh yes, so very soon
Summer again will bring its fruits
And feed me with wondrous delights—
The Creator will serve me at the board.

© Judith Lawrence