Constant and faithful One, I rise up with you this day.
Praise to you.
You do not desert us for sunnier climes,
or better times or for folks more loving.
But through the dying season,
when bulbs are hid and colour scarce,
and the job of survival seems all,
you sing out your presence among us,
small and scarlet and there.
Spirit of all, beyond me and within me,
in the big bleakness of winter,
and the smooth flawlessness of the glossy image,
promising new wealth and health and happiness,
come to my ears and whisper that my littleness is loved;
come to my heart that my little love is enough;
come to my head that my mind not be overwhelmed,
come to my feet that today's steps are all that is required;
come to my eyes that I might notice the little things;
come to my tears that I might find you in the ordinary.
Come to me as I set forth in the big world this day,
Spirit of all, beyond and within me...
Bless to me my germ of faith.
Bless to me my shortness of vision.
Bless to me my vulnerability of heart.
Bless to me my trembling of courage
and at this day's start cover me with your grace,
for blessing is of gift and not of might...
-from the Celtic Wheel, courtesy of my sweet friend Meg