The Holy Here

Discovering how we can meet God in the ordinary stuff of our everyday life is a central purpose in Vessel activities. Being able to celebrate this present moment, to reflect on what God might be saying to us in it is a challenge for most of us and we need help and encouragement to practice and settle into the holiness of ‘here’. We want to live in the invitation and adventure of the Holy Here and learn to Wholly Hear God in it.  We have written a fair among of material exploring this theme and we hope to find ways to make that available at some point on this website. While we work on that here is a poem  that recognises the burning bushes in daily life….



The Holy Here

On a wet day in Lutton Place
I hear the door to the close swing shut
and school shoes scuffing up the stone steps.
The girls are home
falling through the flat door.
I shout from the kitchen as I wash my hands
“Take your dirty shoes off before you come in”

My days drip like the rain
gathering somewhere in a vast reservoir of routine.
So why today? why today
should I come out to greet them
and find them standing straight as willows
breathless from the stairs
ablaze but not consumed
by grace.

Today I notice the scatter of shoes on the dry ground of our hall
the insight like a sabbath.
A Presence has invaded the house.

The dining table is a wasteland of homework books
and half empty lunch-boxes
There’s a crease in the carpet of our life
as if the earth beneath our feet
has shifted its focus

and turning aside

the fire is everywhere:
burnt fingers from sibling squabbles,
damp feet peeled pink from wet socks,
the vase on the dining table
a vessel of red wine pussy willow,
and orange tulips
dropping their wide open petals
like scorch marks on the edges of my attention,
smoke signals until I wholly hear.

Here in the hall, the girls home from school
I see flames
cheeks burn
in the holy here.


Image and poem by Bridget Macaulay