Category Archives: Praise

Playdough Pietàs

Sometimes I struggle
Like an infant pulling through
The amniotic cocoon
Gasping to breathe
What I haven’t before.
I struggle with the transience
In a complete lifetime,
The impermanence I find,
The great distillation of enormity
Into tiny moments
We may only inhabit once.

Our baby laughter
Echoes through the corridors
Of time no more.
Our babies’ laughter
Yields to silent hallways
And I am always aware
I’m tender here
Ever in wonder
Ever grieving

The millions of tiny births and deaths
In a single lifespan.


The Sideways Rays

I stepped out by the back door
Standing still in the setting sun
Dust and pollen dancing like fairies
And the day, the years- nearer to done,
Nearer to interred in the wet earth,
Than they’ve ever been-
Whispered of a childhood
That will never be again
And will never pass away.

I smiled at who I’ve been
Still inside, still a part
Of who I am.


Dearest Companion

I’m thinking of our timeline-
A million collisions of grace
Affection and loyalty
You showed in the face
Of my unworthiness,

Because my unworthiness
Is curable in Your pierced hands.

My heart brims with gratitude
My Father, my Brother, my Friend
My ever-constant Redeemer
My Betrothed in the end
And Your love letters abound

Every breath You’ve supplied
Is a gift of life
And I am found in this:

Thank you.


On the Wing

Today is the day.
How grateful am I
For every cloud of gray
Every drop of rain or icy flake,
Every breath that flew away
In dirge, or praise, or revelry.

Intricately, my wings unfurled,
My story unfolded against the air
In ascension and dive, song and twirl:
Before my Maker, I migrated
Searching this world
For Providence

Finding it from cavern to summit
In my Maker’s hand-
Taking wing to the wind of trumpets
To soar through blue
Or else to plummet
And sleep though winter

One day, to finish my flight,
To be in the ground
Is no less than working the sky
All things complete, as they should be.
After all, You alone made me to fly;
There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow,
Even one such as I.


Diverted by Beauty

We march, shoulder to shoulder,
In a column down the road
Densely packed together,
Those behind us take the goad
I strain to make my way
Through the crowd, to see
The final destination
We pursue in step proudly,
But only elbows, shoulders,
The backs of many heads:
And everyone is leading,
And everyone is led.
The left leads with their left foot
The right leads with their right
As I tumble, tossed between them
For my way to walk upright
I stumble once, a hip
Collides into my side,
I find the ground beneath my palms,
Then catch a knee in stride
Foot by foot, I’m pressed
Now my back, my neck, my hand
As I scratch and claw sideways
Out to higher land
Aside the moving crowd
I recline on the foot of a grassy bank
I catch my breath. I see the sky.
I lift my quiet thanks.
The throngs continue moving
Humming as they go,
Some homogeneous buzz:
A million tunes that no one knows.
The sky above looks gray,
But along the horizon view
It spreads to fill the space
Pink blooming to vibrant blue.
I lift my head, and standing alone
At the peak of my grassy slope
I’m caught unaware by a flower
Piercing with sudden hope
A nameless hope, shapeless,
Stirring my stagnant depths
Now I’m crawling and fumbling,
Too bent low to take real steps.
As I crest the hill, splendor
Bathes me in golden light
Fields of flowers spread
Out to the farthest sight
And rocky mountains carve the air,
A crystal lake reflects the sun
People break off from the group
Slowly, one by one,
I stand to resume the migration,
Ambling beside the troupe
Neither independent,
Nor one within the group,
But all my steps ascend the hill
Gravitating to beauty
Devotion meets affection;
Loyalty finds its duty.
Somehow a nation is formed
In steps between the two;
The solid mass of man,
And the beatific view.


Snow Days

A mess of oatmeal, a scavenger hunt
For scarves and gloves,
And tumbles into the great outdoors
My eager loves
Tromp and slip, they
Roll and pat and pack fresh snow
Into brand news friends
And when they go
I heat a pot of chocolate hot,
And whip together oven rolls
So when they pile inside again
I can warm their tiny souls.


Recovered Gladness

I’m so grateful for my life,
My every day, the ins and outs,
The tiny occurrences
Becoming what I’m about
They flood back to me now
In joy, I’m drenched
Rewritten in laughter
After my jaw unclenched
My story returns in blossoms
Suddenly complete
And the little appearing morsels
Surprise with forgotten sweetness:
Pumping the pedals of my bike
In my brother’s hot pursuit.
Piling into a Christmas Mall
to buy my father a real suit.
Passing off my sister’s homemade cookies
As my own baking, to impress a boy-
Moment after moment,
Joy after joy,
And they were almost lost
All these wandering years
But kindness on kindness
Brings them near again-

Oh, the delight they give!
I’m so grateful for the life I’ve lived.


Father God

Tiny baby legs
Shuffle by in stampede
Chubby baby cheeks
Giggle with glee
And I laugh out loud
As praise to You,
Who in tender mystery
Formed all things new.

I’m in awe of all You do.


It is Now

He pulled close to us
In creation, forming by delicate hand,
So close His breath filled our lungs.
Mankind learned to stand
Inside His tender proximity.

He pulled close to us
In manger hay and baby skin,
Walking in unbreakable love
Not counting our sin
But for the payment He would make.

He pulls close to us,
The day is nearly here!
As a ship approaches the harbor,
With His Father at the steer,
He stands giddy in the prow.

He is so close,
Radiating joy through all alarms
If I lived ninety years
It would only be falling forward into His arms.


Rolled Over

Unhinged again by pain, the spins
Around my ears keep me queasy,
Exhausted, broken, hyper-aware:
Loving me is never easy.
Pulsing ache and fevered throes
Cluttered breaths over shattered shards
Wracked up, wrung out, run down
I fight my own worst regards
Only one friend who writes,
Only one who values me
In the stumbling, tumbling turmoil
Of the worst that I can be-
These whispers hiss and spit
Inside my throbbing ears:
Wasted! Worthless! Naught to show
For all these tarried years.
Oh the physical weakness,
Whenever I assume
I may stand and work and run
On the thin fumes I have presumed
Were the common breaths of man.

How can I run my race
When I can barely stand?
Yet I live, and breath, and move
Inside Your pierced hand

And that’s enough for me.

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