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 new 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.
Snow Days
Endless Songs
There’s some illness in the core of me
shivering throughout
and I know I must go in to see
what the trouble is about
but I am taking a moment to rest
at peace within the pain
My wounds are tenderly dressed
by the sweetest of refrains
The God of Grace, of Peace, of Love
Evermore the same,
Sings comfort to me by name.
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.
Sovereign Ancient Friend
Curled up once, under
Fury and fist
All the gnashing and gnawing,
The tainted and twisted
I felt You with me,
And I wept
Sorrow for the loss;
Gratitude You kept
My tiny soul in Your graces.
Curled up again, under
Physical pain
A familiar barrage
But You remain
And I weep
Gratitude for our years;
Joy that You keep
All things in Your hand
And You have planted me
In faithfulness,
In Your enduring faithfulness.
Weathering the Pain
A perfect storm is howling
In the ocean’s upraised fists
Bellowing forth her furies
Spewing drenching mists
Clouds surround in crowds
Concealing the desperate fight
Of a tiny ship in tempest,
A pitiful, puny sight
And my little fingers cling
To the groaning, creaking mast
As we’re tossed about by waves
I fight to keep my grasp
The rain shows no discretion
In pelting my burning skin
And the sea, she shows no quarter
To the broken vessel that I am
My ears are full and ringing
My strength feels almost gone,
But I trust I must keep singing,
Keep on keeping on
To the sudden break of dawn.
Oh My Mygraine
These migraines
Drive me insane
There’s so much pain
I could nearly drain
My brain
Through a straw…
But that’s ridiculous.
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.
On Toils and Twirls
He’s in his truck while they lay sleeping,
Hard at work before the sunrise
Hammering out the tools he needs
To build their Christmas joys.
By the time he gets back home,
We’ll have tucked the sun back into bed
Then we’ll eat and laugh and love each other
Before laying down our heads.
I get up in hazy mornings,
Blend my flour and my eggs
Whisking together my ingredients
To bake their fragrant memories,
Now the hours go by harder
But the joys grow deeper by the mile
I’m storing away the things we’ll need
To build their Christmas smiles.
We’re working Christmas to the bone this year
Because the best things in life deserve it,
And the love and joy and peace we feel-
Well, all of those were free.
We’re eager for the wide-eyed wonder,
The northern lights inside their eyes,
And for the moment we recline together
To watch them dance in their surprise.
And I think about our Savior,
Coming down from His delights
To work amongst the splinters,
The stubble and the wheat,
He worked Christmas to the bone each year
Building us a mystery
And I, in wide-eyed wonder,
Dance in all I see.
.
.
.
..
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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viewingcamelot 