Bliss by Ruth Smith Meyer

I once was asked  to contemplate  

          Get right into the mood of this-  

Consider what are all the things, 

          That surely would bring me much bliss.

I sat back and put up my feet,

          And started to stare into space,

Is bliss doing, being, seeing?

          This question I surely must face.

So I sat there, really pondered

          And slowly my thoughts came around.

To my mind there came a whisper

          From my heart  where such things are found.

To begin each day in quiet,

          Listening for love sounds from God,

To step out on a fall morning

          To smell pungent leaves and the sod.

To crunch through the leaves in autumn

          See purple lined clouds in the sky,

To see dew kissed flowers and webs,

          And catch them with camera’s eye,

To walk along sandy beaches

          Find round pebbles of every hue,

To walk, ski, sit in the moonlight,

          Feel peace and hushed quiet anew,

To catch the marvelous sweet scent

          Of wood shavings or new-mown hay,

Taste a strawberry from the patch

          Or a wild one found on the way,

To sit with canvas and brushes,

          Then painting the beauty around,

To listen to birds insect, frogs,

          As they each lend musical sound,

To sit at cottage’s lakeside,

          And hear o’er the water, loon’s call,

To see the beautiful sunset

          And the first star when comes night-fall,

To hold the hand of a loved one,

          Behold a child’s eyes with love’s light,

To experience meeting of minds,

          Bond with another in delight,

To face challenge inviting growth,

          And draw on the depth of your soul,

To laugh at yourself, share a joke,

          To reach an unreachable goal.

These, just a few that bring delight,

          That in this life I’d hate to miss,

In truth, as I pondered it o’er,

          Certainly they’re what I would call bliss.

But what is bliss, kept to oneself,

          And hoarded in silence alone?

It’s true, that it can feed one’s soul

          Bring a harmony to life’s tone.

But share that bliss with another,

          And worship your Maker on high,

Bring praise, exuberant thanksgiving

          Let Him hear your awe-filled cry,

Your bliss may surprise, astound you,

          As it’s multiplied, then abounds

Warmed in His beautiful presence,

         You’ll stand there on God’s Holy ground.

May each of you find the pockets of bliss in your own lives.