I shall sing to Yahweh all my life, make music for my God...
A small, wooden flute,
an empty, hollow reed,
rests in her silent hand.
It awaits the breath
of one who creates song
through its open form.
My often-empty life
rests in the hand of God;
like the hollowed flute,
it yearns for the melody
which only Breath can give.
The small, wooden flute and I,
we need the one who breathes,
we await one who makes melody.
And the one whose touch creates,
awaits our empty, ordinary forms,
so that the song-starved world
may be fed with golden melodies.
SIGN UP NOW  to receive an e-email alert each week directing you to Sr. Joyce Rupp’s reflections.
Want to know more about Sister Joyce Rupp? Visit her website. 
Visit Ave Maria Press  for a full selection of books by Sr. Joyce Rupp
Used by permission of Ave Maria Press. All rights reserved.