St. Kevin and Holy Yielding ~ A love note from your online abbess
St. Kevin and the Blackbird (after Seamus Heaney) Imagine being like Kevin, your grasping fist softens, fingers uncurl and palms open, rest upward, and the blackbird weaves twigs and straw and bits of string in the begging bowl of your hand, you feel the delicate weight of speckled blue orbs descend, and her feathered warmth settling in for a while. How many days can you stay, open, waiting for the shell to fissure and crack, awaiting the slow emergence of tiny gaping mouths and slick wings that need time to strengthen? Are you willing to wait and watch? To not