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Shooting Star

I watch from afar
The bright shooting star
Streaming across the night,
Heart in my throat,
I’m watching it float
With brilliantly flaming light.

This time I know,
Although I’ve been slow,
That I have to let it fly free.
No catching its tail
(It really is frail),
But I trust Creator to see.

I see the star climb
Through distance and time
And prayerfully give it to Him.
He’ll catch every tear,
Keep drawing it near
As all shooting stars fade and dim.

He knows all star names,
Breathes new star flames
Setting them on the right course.
So I am content
To trust His intent
To draw all stars back to His Source.

The Message

I have posted a new article under my Prose writings titled The Message. It’s listed over in the left hand menu of pages. Please check it out!

Whose I Am

I have a lot of anger inside me—
Anger that my bible-quoting father could parade his religion to the world,
Then abuse his family behind closed doors,
Anger that an idyllic life could be shattered by a man
Who didn’t believe in committed, unconditional love or faithfulness,
Anger that my children have been torn from me
…Not once, but three times,
Anger that my character and motherhood have been libeled and
Battered continuously for more than twelve years.

The judgement is a heavy load, whether judging or being judged.
It is an unjust world that labels the victim as the perpetrator.
We all stand guilty.
It is only mercy—God’s mercy—that sustains.
So much anger remains.
The grief of life lost (my life!)
Enrages me by the injustice of it all.

…Yet I am but clay.
The broken shards, the crushing into dust,
The mud on the spinning wheel, the darkness of the hot kiln—
All wring the sorrows of brokenness, confusion, blind unknowing.
The tears flow like many-colored glazes.
I cannot see their effect, but the Potter knows.
He knew me while I was yet unformed in my mother’s womb.
Before a word is on my tongue… He knows.

Only He can take the burden of my anger,
The rage at the injustice of my life,
The grief that twists my soul in knots…
I do not even know how to give,
To let go of this lifetime long emotion.
Anger has been my companion in many forms
From stubborn stillness to screaming rage,
But I am tired.

When I am assassinated again by another criticism, another assumption,
When someone presumes my motives without knowing my heart,
My companion shakes me from weary slumber,
Tries to stir up the embers of fires long quenched and scattered,
And I AM angry for a while…

Till I remember mercy poured out,
Grace bestowed, forgiveness undeserved…
I am the bondslave of One who bought me with Eternal Love.
My right to hold onto anger is gone now;
My right to vindication is forsworn;
Because the Potter can do as He pleases
To form the image of Himself in His vessels.

To My Children

I think of you…
All day… every day…
You are such an integral part of my life.
I can’t not think about you.
I am always telling someone
How cool you are,
How beautiful you are,
How imaginative and unique you are.
I tell them stories about our time together—
Conversations we’ve had,
Things we’ve laughed about,
Frustrations we’ve dealt with,
The normal interactions of family life,
The growing pains,
The aches and sorrows of moments lost.
All of those things wear on me
And at the same time
Buoy me up through difficult days.
I know I will see you again.
I count the days, the hours, the minutes
Till you run to me and wrap your arms around me,
Telling me how much you missed me,
How much you love me,
How glad you are that we are together again.
There is nothing quite like being with you!
And I can never tell you
Often enough, loud enough, long enough that
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Journey Dance

I saw the path ahead converge with others that I know.
Each traveled from a separate way into a broader flow.
For just a while we interwove our steps into a dance,
The time well-spent as everyone enjoyed the happy chance.
Some jogged, some ran, some stopped to rest, or linked their arms to talk;
And though the roads diverged as each continued on the walk,
I felt refreshed by journey’s dance in Holy Spirit might,
Rememb’ring He directs me and guides others in His light.
8/12/07

Ode To A Winter Night

Cold winter night sky, you draw me
Up into the crystal clarity that seems
So far from where I am on the inside.
Even when the city lights obscure the stars
With their occasional brilliant glee peeping through,
The blackness between the bare branches
Offers an internal security blanket.
I could stare… all night…
Letting all the knots in my mind unravel
Were it not for the knots in my muscles
Fighting the piercingly chill wind.
I look down shivering,
Pulling my coat and scarf around me tightly,
Still standing still…
My unfocused eyes keep staring mentally upwards
Until I shake myself out of reverie and walk on.
Ah, winter in all its nighttime glory!
I like the bare trees standing nakedly real
Against the shallow unreality of
Man’s pomp and circumstance.
Black sky, you pull me out of the urban crunch
Into the uncluttered infinity of natural creation,
Even if just for a few moments.
I can trudge on smiling again because we touched,
You and I, dark knight sky, and shared
A peace beyond comprehension.

Somehow…

Somehow… I still wake up and get out of bed in the morning.
Somehow… I still care that people love me enough to tell me.
Somehow… I still steer through the daily drudgeries
Though so many crazy distractions drag at me.

Somehow… I keep finding the treasure of family moments.
Somehow… I keep remembering how integral my faith is.
Somehow… I keep on going when I want to
Stop walking, sit down and let the world pass me by.

Somehow… Someway… I refuse to give up
What I believe I am supposed to be doing and being…
And only God knows how I CAN face the next day,
But with His help, I am going to!

AWAKENING

I heard my heart echoing emotions long forgotten
As I listened to songs so precious so long ago.
They are sweet to my soul, reminding me of
Things hidden in the treasure chest of memory—
Like the tangible abiding love of Jesus
It seems I was born with, but at the least
Knew when I was four begging the baptismal
Death and resurrection of commitment to Christ.
Lyrics ingrained in my heart, though thought forgot,
Came to my lips readily and some ocean-sized feeling,
Unnamable, intangible, roared in me…
Something akin to joyful sorrow
Like knowing you can never go home again,
But home is always with you anyway.

Passion stirred up a maelstrom!
I thought with wonder, I knew this! I remember that!
How could I forget…
about God’s love and faithfulness.
The childlike expectation of end-time imminence
Rushed through my being again, and
I remember what it felt like to really care
That the world around me needs Him desperately,
That I should reach out every chance I get to share
How amazing His grace is,
How infinitely incredible it is to be redeemed,
Freed from the burden of guilt and
Free to find joy in living through His Holy Spirit
Even when life is hard—
All the things I thought I knew and shared already.

First love is different the second time around,
But it still transforms somehow.
Nostalgia cannot change the past,
But my present is being changed
Thanks to all those who chose to share
The memories of God’s revolutionary work of love
In those days of hungry passion for Him,
When people didn’t just say they wanted to make a difference…
They MADE a difference!
And all those changed lives sat, listened, stood, and cheered last night,
In hopes that we can all awaken to the realness beyond reality
And go out and alter the world around us NOW.

Humble Men

Society is saturated beyond a capacity to absorb
Another drop of Jesus—
Heard the message preached at them over and over
Until inoculation was complete.
Culture repels the efforts of a half-hearted church…
A church convinced of its own worthiness
Painted white panels against a background
Colored by the unrighteousness of the common populace
While blind to the deadness inside the beautiful buildings on
Perfectly manicured properties with trite sayings on signs.

Churches swipe chunks of neighborhood for
Bigger, better displays of perfection
While the hungry community curses the cliques,
Wonders why all the resources don’t
Feed them… emotionally… physically…
Or clothe their naked misery…
Or pay their hopelessly unpaid creditors…
As they wait for eviction on top
Of rejection by the oh-so-holier-than-thou
Who whisper, “Come be like us,”
While they turn up their smug noses and
Throw their guilty stones.

Such behavior makes the realist’s blood boil,
But the humble man isn’t in or out—
Doesn’t fit inside the immaculate,
Makes the unclean uncomfortable in a wistful sort of way.
He is reluctant to reject either “holy” or “profane,”
Finds truth in both realms, friends in both cultures…
Like Jesus who ate with
Simon the Pharisee and Zaccheus the tax-collector,
Who listened equally to
Nicodemus the council ruler and Bartimæus the blind beggar.

Structures, after all, are only artificial human constructs—
Some effort by humanity to box in the incomprehensible.
It’s true of buildings, communities, governments… even “cultures.”
Society may be over-absorbed, Church may be over-arrogant,
But humble men walk among us still…
Like the risen Christ passing through walls
To speak truth to doubting Thomas,
Like Christ speaking mercy to Peter through the “impossible”
As He filled his nets with fish again.

Humble men speak honestly without prejudice and
Society, inoculated against pompous judgments, listens
While the church marches blindly on…
Mostly…
A few wake up even inside the white-washed walls,
Try to take bricks out of barriers,
Learn humility so they, too, can walk through walls to those who need
Someone to relate to rather than someone pointing a finger.
Humble men change society gently from within instead of
Chiseling away from the outside.

feedback on the feedback :)

I did get one response. My friend suggested people don’t want to comment on the quality of my poetry. While I can appreciate that, I would be interested in hearing if what I write strikes a chord with you.

Does it make you feel something? Good? Bad? Happy? Angry? Are the things I go through relevant to anyone else’s experience out there? (Am I the only one struggling to find balance???) Does what I write touch your heart? Are you inspired to take some quiet moments and hang out with Creator? Or maybe for once in your life to let down the wall and be honest with yourself and Him about how you feel (even if it’s mad!)?

I’m not trying to prove that I can write better than the next fellow. I am simply trying to put my heart out there in hopes that it touches someone else’s heart. I keep hoping that somehow, some way, I can make a difference in someone’s life by being transparent enough to let His light and love shine through all my junk.

So, nuff said I guess. I’ll go on and trust that God’s in charge of all this stuff… like I really did know that all along, but I had this terribly childish urge to rant and rave and throw a tantrum about my crud. Hope y’all will forgive me. I’ll put some more poetry out here next time I have a bit of inspiration.