Category: Reflections

The Teacup of Today

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”  Psalm 118:24

 In the midst of a frenzied afternoon at work today, I paused to read an email from my daughter Amy:

“I’ve been thinking about this quote a lot lately:  “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”  The last two words, “in it”, are what have me thinking. The phrase makes it seem like it’s a special place – a porcelain cup, specially made, specially prepared – to rejoice, to revel, to live fully in — when you are in something like a cup of tea, surrounded.”

Any given second, any given breath, we are within the walls of a day. We can’t see tomorrow – and so we can only treat it with what we can’t see – with hope (but how great is our hope when we think about Jesus)? We see only today, and our hands, and our feet, and our loved ones, and whatever else God has given us for today. “

What Amy wanted to tell me is that today is not only a special time, but a unique and wondrous place designed by God for us to live and breathe in.

The porcelain teacup of today.

I smile at the thought of today and of pink porcelain cups.

D. G. Vachal (c) 2012, 2025

Momentary Blooms

Momentary Blooms

Are there memories
senseless
to logical sentiments,
written off as never-
happenstance hypotheses
by mountain goat-bearded
wise sages —

why then
do rainbow whirlwinds
hover over peripheries
of my befuddled mind,
radiate
in the recessive
penumbra
of my tranquil heart —

thoughts of loves
long forgotten
momentarily bloom
like purple
crocus petals
on the frigid soil
of weather-beaten
March gardens —

why then
do they disappear
in April.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Couleur @Pixabay

Teach Me to Number My Days

Teach Me to Number My Days

Teach me to number my days
the way You number
the hairs on my head,
the way You are mindful
of petals and sparrows
as they fall with the leaves
in the mist of autumn rain —

was it only this morning
when my hair was in pigtails,
as I dressed my dolls
in pink dresses,
dreamt of a fairytale prince 
upon a white stallion
awaiting to take me to a castle
hidden in emerald forests —

towards noon
when I felt butterflies 
fluttering in clandestine chambers 
of my youthful heart,
I met my first love
and time was suspended,
drowned in ivory clouds
and endless blue oceans —

i can still feel the afternoon warmth
when the children came
and their laughter mingled
with the melody of songbirds,
the hum of restless cicadas —

at sunset my love and I
rowed the silent rivers,
built a bonfire upon the sand,
held each other’s hand
for warmth —

and now at twilight
wrapped in the lavender glow,
i treasure the dwindling vestiges
of tender moments,
the faint beloved
song that will remain
when evening falls.

O teach me to number my days.

D. G. Vachal @ 2024

Image by Liuksena @ Pixabay

Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Graduate school
econometrics
cryptic
to my right-leaning brain,
when in my puzzlement
an angel descended
from distant constellations —

a comely Adonis,
face sculpted
by Jirisan mountain
winds,
eyes and lips suspended
in a perpetual smile  —

He took my hand,
showed me how to
solve equations
step by step,
pencil strokes on the offensive,
neglecting fear of failure to find
proofs of theorems —

In interweaving moments
he would prepare
gyoza,
chopsticks on teflon,
our measly meal—

Tonight
I cook gyoza the way          
he taught me,
a different life, no more
theorems to prove —

I recall from long ago
a time of heartbreak
while parting ways
for another love.

D. G. Vachal © 2023