Would Love exist if no one had a brain?
Is Love dependent on nerves and dopamine?
Are we within Love or is Love housed in gray goo?
When our bodies die, does Love die, too?
Love, I think, is bigger than goo,
bigger than “me” and bigger than “you” –
for I believe Love is EVERYTHING –
the Source of the song all creation sings.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
The son and his family are in LA
and I’ve been feeling disquieted –
feeling the distance
as the fires burn between us.
But tonight I went in search
of the sunset and I remembered
other sunsets and my son and I
hopping in the car to find them.
I mentally bring my son
with me now in my hunt
to find reflections of pink clouds
in flooded fields
and I feel his energy around me –
joyful and free.
I find a glorious sunset
and my heart finds peace.
Then my son messages me that
at the end of the day
he went in search of the sunset, too,
from his home in LA.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell of tonight’s sunset near Bow, Washington.
We are not worthless.
We are worthy –
worthy to be partakers of Love.
In fact, MADE to be partakers of Love –
of the celebration of Life.
God, Love, is our Hostess and she throws
a great party.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photo of trumpeter swans near Bow, Washington. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
It hit me today as I was
hanging another ornament on the tree –
a gift from east coast family –
that no matter how many ornaments I hang
I’m never going to have
my whole family together again
in the person, on this planet.
Parents have passed now; Loved ones scattered.
And somehow facing this reality
and accepting it –
helped give me perspective on what matters.
I’d been raising the bar too high for Christmas –
making my joy dependent on what can’t be –
instead of being grateful for all the good that IS –
for all the good that’s mine here and now.
There’s still so much to celebrate –
and nothing can separate
me from the love of Love Itself.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
It’s a humble holiday, tucked in between
Christmas and New Year’s, but it’s really keen.
Things look a little bedraggled, it’s true
The tree’s a little droopy and no longer new
The movies and music of the Christmas season
Are getting on our nerves now, and we’re seeing no reason
To eat even one more sugary oversweet sweet
It’s time for broccoli and carrots (maybe hold on the beets)
The pressure for perfection comes off on this day,
the toys have been opened, and it’s come time to play.
And if before we were wearing faux holiday cheer
to blend in with the others and not Scroogey appear
It’s time now to be genuine, and honest and real.
The food banks are empty, people still need a warm meal.
The homeless and hungry and jobless and alone
still need love and care, still need a home.
So maybe we can celebrate the day after Christmas
by keeping the spirit of hope alive,
we might make that our business.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, from A Poem Lives on My Windowsill
I wake early on Christmas morn
and come downstairs to plug in the lights.
I feel the loss of those who aren’t near
this year –
I feel the holes in my sphere
and I feel grief here.
And then Love is talking to me,
gently nudging my shoulder,
embracing me and letting me know
I am not alone.
I feel my dear ones gathering around me –
those who have passed on,
and those still on this plane of existence –
I feel their love without distance –
they’re with me still.
I reach out and hug them back.
There are no holes here.
My heart is filled.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
shortest day is here
we rest in the darkness
tomorrow brings light
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photo of the last sunset before solstice by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
Every Christmas is different
from the last,
and brings its own gifts,
and a new past.
Mom and Dad are no longer here,
but their sweaters hang
from the back of our chairs,
and I feel Mom’s smile on me,
and Dad’s grin,
and sometimes I feel a nostalgic
yearning to go back to what’s been.
The sons are all grown up now
with homes of their own.
But I remember their childhood excitement
when they’d wake on Christmas morn –
running downstairs to see what Santa
brought them during the night
and put under the Christmas tree’s lights.
And there’s a sad sweetness
to the remembering.
Next year this Christmas
will be the new past.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Sparky cat stares, transfixed,
at the Christmas tree
and shares the stillness
of this solstice morning with me.
I’ve plugged in the lights –
red and gold, green and white –
and I sit on the couch with my feet
on the coffee table, embraced
in the peace of the solstice morning-night.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Nope.
I am not going to be a victim today –
pitiful, hapless, awkward, less than, weak,
defenseless, unable, cowering at the dangers
I’m told are at every turn and in every corner.
P’shaw! P’shaw, I say!
I am made by the Magnificent, the Powerful,
the Perfect, the Splendorous One –
and can’t be anything less than Her perfect
image and likeness, reflection, expression,
manifestation, creation,
precious child.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(NASA photo.)
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 