Thursday, August 14, 2008


My late husband, Ted, worked quite happily with chaos around him, with a desk piled high with papers and general clutter. It didn’t bother him a bit. Such disarray would drive me to distraction! My temperament requires order; I guess I’m a “neatnik.” I have to tidy up my entire desk before I settle down to my writing even if I only organize by chucking papers into manila folders or drawers. Out of sight, out of mind. One thing may lead to another, of course—I may end up cleaning my study, emptying trash and vacuuming the carpet. The same thing goes for order in my kitchen and the rest of the house. (There’s another word for that kind of “disorder!”) Everything in its place spells efficiency to me. My four sons are a mix of their parents’ polarized tendencies with a hard lean toward disorder.

I am equally sensitive to inner clutter. My spirit is restless if I am disturbed about something, ill at ease about a course of action, or anxious about some relationship. I thrive on peace and harmony without discord. Unless I sense inner order I have difficulty discerning the leading of the Holy Spirit. My spirit too needs quiet waters, not roaring rapids.


Leona Choy

Propelled by the winds of my times

my inner world whirls with unrest

I'm driven by impulse and pressed

by the visible, the temporal

commitments and duties that pull at my spirit

responsibilities wrestle me to the ground

disintegrating my spiritual discernment

clouding my perception of God's will.

Lord! I can't hear You

if my outward world shouts so loudly

and my inner, private world is askew

without order and balance!

Not in the whirlwind of my life

nor in the earthquake of circumstances

not in the thunder of my activities

nor in the lightning flash of my urgencies

not in the fire of my passions

for accomplishment and success

can I sense God’s peace and direction.

Only when I withdraw to my secret garden

within the hidden chamber of my heart

where Christ abides and graciously beckons me

can I settle down to listen

attentively with a hushed heart

to His still, small voice.

When He knocks and I open

He comes to sup with me and I with Him

in this sacred place, in His Presence

where He nourishes me so tenderly

sorts out the disorder of my life

and blesses me with peace and focus

to face confidently the public day ahead.


1 Kings 19; Revelation 3:20

From book in progress: “LATTER RAIN

Wordsmithing verse written late in the Season”

by Leona Choy

1 comment:

apalumbo said...

I loved this poem. Thank you for informing me of your blog.
Amy Palumbo