“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,
wife and children, brothers and sisters,
and even his own life,
he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me
cannot be my disciple….
In the same way,
anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple.”
—Luke 14:25-33
Teach me to count the days aright
I have upon this earth:
How many morns and noontides bright
run onward from my birth?
One only, speeding toward the night—
O God, what is that worth?
And everything that fills this day
is slipping through my hands,
even as the moments fall away.
Not long do we withstand
the ticking clock. I cannot stay;
I fall—where will I land?
I can take nothing when I go:
The loss will be complete,
for all we really get to hold
is the cross, and our defeat.
Then take the ones I love, O Lord:
I lay them at your feet!
I know not when the time will come,
but I know the day will end,
and so I give my precious ones—
You’ll hold them all ‘til then,
and when that night is past and done
you’ll give them back again.
Early crosses at Clonmacnoise, Ireland, Photo By Ingo Mehling – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15676225
Kate Bluett 