Definition

And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.

Phil’s favorite verse,
A basic definition,
An equation,
X equals Y.

Life eternal
Equals
Knowing God and Jesus Christ.

Live life eternal now.

Under the Sink

I.
Apparently bored with his board books and toys,
Caleb discovered that he can open the cupboard
Under the sink.

I was disconcerted to discover
Him eating out of the pot that holds
Compost scraps.
Why he wanted moldly apple cores and stale bread
When he had buttered fresh bread and peeled pears
Available, I don’t know.

And it could be a lovely metaphor
For how we sometimes choose the lesser option,
Except the entire situation disgusts me,
And I’d rather not talk about it,
Let alone write something poetic.

II.
I was rereading favorite quotes feeling literary
And elevated,
When suddenly I heard the onomatopoetic
Glug-glug-glug
Of an unknown liquid leaving a bottle rapidly,
And a sudden Caleb cry.

I dashed the twenty feet from couch to kitchen,
And there found the dishwasher soap
In a viscid puddle around my son,
So slippery that, much as he tried to escape
From the scene of the crime,
He could not get his feet under him.
After scrambling several times,
He decided he might as well make the best of it,
And happily started to splash and play.
The puddle spread.

It was easy enough to clean up—
It is soap after all—
And the puddle mostly ended up back in the bottle.

I’ve been a parent for more than twelve years.
This was a new one for me.

Socialized

A friend with a two-year-old said,
“Your twelve-year-old is so sweet.
He always greets my son warmly.
I hope, in another ten years, my son
Will be as welcoming to the
Two-year-olds in his life.”

People wonder sometimes
How homeschooled children
Can possibly be socialized.

In this home, we’re hoping for
Civilized.

A Musical Moment

I.
We sing a song at church
That I love inordinately.

Sisters, tell your brothers
That our God is alive.

From the first instruction to Mary:
Tell Peter;
To all believing women since,
It’s beautiful in its historicity
And its recognition that
Women have a place in the Gospel.

II.
What gives me goose bumps, though,
Is the moment where,
Having sung about the crucifixion,
Having sung about the dead Christ,
We sing about the king’s heartbeat
And all words and music go silent

But the beat of the drum.

Measure after measure,
Beat.

III.
I knew that the song would be broken
Unusually today, that because the sermon
Was about death and resurrection,
We would sing only the first half,
Leaving off where Jesus died,
Waiting to sing about the renewed heartbeat
Until after the message of resurrection.

And I was excited
For this creative entering in to death.

I was excited.

What was I thinking?

To stop with Christ beaten down,
With Christ in the grave …

It was powerful to dwell there.
It was devastating.

Longing

If an average American party goes three hours,
And I have people start to leave at four, let alone five,
Or six, I really have no reason to complain.
It was a good party!

I realize, though, that if I have 28 people come to visit,
And I could legitimately spend an hour or seven
With each of them,
When they leave, I feel the loss of not fully connecting.
Times 28.

So maybe I need to figure out more about hospitality,
That a party is not a visit,
That perfect connection won’t happen this side of
Heaven.

But because being with my friends
Feels about the way I expect heaven will feel,
I want the joy to last more than six hours,
And I feel the loss when all leave.

So then it’s not so much about me and my need for quality time.
It’s about longing for deep connection,
And having it, and losing it,
And longing for more.

Ten Hours

When we’ve had guests for ten hours,
And I’ve sang and prayed and cried and laughed,
And friends have worshiped and talked
And eaten and shared,

My heart is so deeply satisfied
That I want to create something new
That has never been seen in the history of the world
To approximate the wonder that I feel.

Identity

When the boys were little,
Say, one, three, five,
We would go to the grocery store.
On the way there, I would remind them:

We might be the only family that loves Jesus
That the people around us see all day.

And we’d have fun, talking our way through the store.
No tantrums, ever. No begging.
(Maybe a bit of disobedience on occasion. They are human.)

I think about that now.

That was about identity.

Remember who you are.
Live like it in the world you inhabit.

So Much for Teaching

I do not always see what needs to be done.

I once read a page in my mom’s journal
From my preschool years:
I had bent and picked up
A piece of paper on the floor
Rather than stepping over it.
That was progress worth writing about.

As a parent, I want my children
To be alert, helpful, seeing a need and satisfying it.
But how to teach what I don’t practice myself?

I don’t know.

What I do know that a guest was grabbing books
From a high shelf,
Precariously balanced on our chair.

A son brought over the step stool.
“Do you use this to get books off the top shelf?”
Asked the guest.

“Oh, yes,” said my son. “I brought this for you,
So you can use it. If you’d like.”

I can’t take credit for that.
True confession: I had noticed the precarious balance,
And it didn’t register enough for me to find the step stool.

I am thankful the Holy Spirit teaches, too.

Two Exhortations

Relatives came to visit.
We had a sweet time of fellowship.
The solace sank deep.

At the end, two exhortations.

Stay the course.

Respect the course that others are on.

And I reply:
To hear is to obey.

Christmas Decoration

My mom would decorate the house
For Christmas
Until it was like fairyland.

Amidst the ornaments and chimes,
Glass spheres and decked out tree,
A single paper card made its annual appearance
On the top of the piano.

The cover showed twelve world leaders:
Napoleon, Caesar Augustus, Mao, and so on:
“History is full of men who would be gods.”

Inside: “But only one God who would be man.”

Fear

You don’t live in fear.

When our friend said that to us,
I was taken aback.

It’s true.

But life has just been gentle so far.

If life is sweet as a
Jar of jelly,
What would I fear?

That hardly seems like a
Triumph of faith.

I expect Job wasn’t afraid
Before the Sabeans, Chaldeans,
Fire of God and wind from wilderness
Arrived.

But after God restored to Job
What had been taken,
I wonder if he had a little less trust
In the rightness of the universe.

Can a person go through a trial
And come out
Unafraid?

Or is that why heavenly beings
Repeatedly told terrestrials

Fear not.

Because fear is, sometimes,
A reasonable and good response.

Just not the right one.

Accident

I witnessed a collision
When I was eight.
A man ran a stop light.

My dad said, “Oh, I hope
He makes it,” and I looked up
And he didn’t make it,
And hit a car with a mother and child.

Whether from the trauma of that day,
Or just basic parsimony,
I didn’t get a driver’s license until
I was married, graduated,
And expecting a child.

So when, after twelve years of driving,
I was in a collision, I was surprised.

After I realized the accident was inevitable,
I watched the front corner of my car
Crumple into the passenger door
Of the other and thought,

So this is an accident. It’s not that bad.

As peace washed over me.

Fruitful

Take Faith.
Add to that virtue.
Add to that knowledge.
Add to that temperance.
Add to that patience.
Add to that godliness.
Add to that brotherly kindness.
Add to that charity.

With these in you,
In you and overflowing,
You won’t be barren,
Nor unfruitful.

Start with faith.
End with charity.

And fruit.

All Things

his divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness

Joe is never the most intent listener,
So I was surprised when he replied first
To my question, repeated a second time:

“What are we missing for life and godliness?”

“Nothing!”

When I congratulated him for his correct answer,
He said, “Oh. I was sort of just kidding. But I was right!”

All things. Life and godliness.

Good news. No kidding.

Premonition

Every once in a while
I know something just a bit in advance,
So that when the news comes,
I have had a bit of time to adjust to it
Already.

I don’t know why this happens,
But I am thankful when it does.

Running in Rain

After swimming year-round three years,
One or two practices a day,
Until the chlorine smell never fully left my skin, my hair,
I had had enough of being wet.

One time, though, I purposefully went for a run
In the rain
In the dark
Around my college campus.

The sidewalks glistened with reflected light,
And the beautiful pink limestone buildings
Struck me even then as collegiate cliché in their perfection.

But rain falls rarely enough in Colorado,
And as I ran alone, the night felt vaguely menacing
Even in the rain,

So I never had even a slight inclination to repeat
The magic of that moment.

As if it would have been possible anyway.

Six Months

My friend’s spouse died
Shortly after they wed.
She once told me:

Six months after his death,
I looked back and thought,
Wow, I was really not doing well
When he died.

And six months later,
I looked back and thought,
Wow. I thought I was doing well
At six months, but I was still
Really grieving.

That happened for two years,
Where I would think I was fine,
But looking back after six months,
I actually wasn’t.

I don’t think grief is something you manage.

Indescribable

The presence of God,
A heavy, sweet weight,
Meeting us in need,
Bringing solemn joy.

The Ballet

A friend once treated me to the ballet.
She was sure I’d love it. And I did.

Except.

We had ticketed seats.
The ones in front of us were empty
Until two women from the cheap seats
In back ushered themselves there.

Ladies in my row took umbrage.
And rather than simply enjoy
The incredible grace and flexibility
On stage,

The rest of the performance
Was tainted by increasingly personal
Comments directed forward,
Down to insulting the clip-on earrings.
The ears shook with indignation.

I thought that only happened in books.

I left the theater shaken by the visceral
Experience of hell

Made by boring, ordinary human cruelty.

Timing

God orchestrates events through time.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the
Fragrances he’s worked together
To make a life
An offering,
Burning, ascending,
Redolent of Splendor
                        Glory
                           Praise

Change

First day of fall,
Season most beautiful of all:

On this day, my children fought.
We finished a book that left me in tears.
We ate apple pie.
Good and bad, our lives go on.

Meanwhile, in another part of town,
A letter reached a friend.
It promised change.
That friend’s life goes on, too,
Differently.
A new season.

First day of fall.

Ruth

Abraham is not a fan of Ruth.

This is just like a fairy tale!
For the first half,
It’s all tragedy and horror
And then it all ends happily.

I mean, if Boaz was such a great guy,
Why hadn’t he already married one of the local girls?

First Word!

Caleb has managed to avoid
Any recognizable syllables
In his babbling.

Today, though: the first word:
Mama mama!

It only took five children,
But I finally beat out
Dada dada!

All those weeks of earnest
Practice, showing how to
Press the lips together
To make the /m/ sound
Finally paid off!

And just in time.

Fifteen minutes later,
Isaiah was swooping around the house,
Flying Caleb in a banker’s box
To the baby’s utter glee.

Taking a break, Isaiah said,
Do you want to go again?

And Caleb said enthusiastically,
Yeah!

Power

Question: if we are supposed to know
With certainty the power of God:

Do we?

Question: If the church is Christ’s body,
Christ who experienced resurrection power:

Does the church know that power?

Answer: My grade is sufficient for thee:
For my strength is made perfect in weakness.
Most gladly therefore will I rather glory
In my infirmities, that the
Power
Of Christ may rest upon me.

Question: Do we even know what
Power
Is?

Incomprehensible Matryoshka

and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him that filleth all in all

The church is Christ’s body.
The church is the fullness of him
That fills all in all.

This seems like a matryoshka doll,
Where the church is Christ’s fullness,
But Christ also fills all.

If the church is the middle doll,
Christ is both the inner and the outer.
Which I guess would make him all in all.

This will take some serious ruminating.

A Gift

and gave him to be the head over all things to the church

This could be translated

God gifted Christ to the church
As head of all.

What a gift to receive!

Pie Making

The allure of pie making
Faded quickly.

I no longer had three sons
Vying for a chance to peel apples.

Today just one, who willingly
Tried cutting,
Who peeled without complaint,
And, when finished, found another
Small task to do so I didn’t have to.

I appreciated the help, certainly.
But even more I appreciated
The initiative, seeing
What needed to be done,
And doing it
Without being asked.

Hating Nahum

I was hating the harshness of Nahum.

I like God as Abba, Father,
Jesus weeping over Jerusalem,
The Holy Spirit as Comforter.

I like having a God who is for me.

God says twice in Nahum,
“I am against you.”
I don’t like it.

But then, unlooked for,
A friend mentioned reading
About the Taliban,
Those wicked men,

And how angry she was
That God didn’t stop them.

God sent me an answer.

There are things that deserve
Punishment. There are people
That ought to be stopped.

God sees the women and children abused.
There is grace for them.

God sees the abusers.
There is grace available.
But they might not choose to seek it.

And so judgment comes.

Needy II

A friend once asked me for help.
I thought the context ridiculous
And have harbored a bit of bitterness
Over both the request and my acquiescence.

I told this story to another friend.
This friend, when later in need of comfort,
Immediately feared she had become a burden.

Be sure your sins will find you out.

No, my friend. I am older now.
I realize the value of community.
And if you’re the one in need today,
My turn will come.

A friendship is an honor,
And I thank you for both the honor and the
Friendship.

Needy

Through the watches of the night,
The baby woke regularly,
Crying out, rolling around,
Needing comfort and sustenance.

I don’t remember him doing that before.

Maybe he’s hungry. He refused the solid food offered,
But maybe he shouldn’t have.

Maybe he’s cold, as the night air comes in
And he’s kicked off the covers.

Maybe he’s in pain. He’ll eventually have
Twelve teeth more than he does. Any day now.

Maybe he’s sleeping in his own mess.
That would be uncomfortable.

And maybe he’s just needing some reassurance
That I’m near.

Hungry, cold, in pain, in mess, lonely.

Baby, the world will leave you like that sometimes.
I’m happy to lose a little sleep to comfort you.

Jonah

Should I not have pity on that great city of Nineveh where there are more than 120,000 people who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?

After 2001, we studied Jonah,
That beleaguered prophet
Sent to the Assyrians,
The al-Qaeda of its day,
A people that delighted in
Destruction in perverse ways.

What New Yorker would want
To go to Afghanistan
With a message from God?
Jonah rationally went as far as he could
The other way.

Jonah knew that there was pity available,
That the hand of judgment might be stayed.

For the mothers of the jumping men:
Does full pardon for the terrorists
Appeal to you?

More recent: for the mothers of beheaded children:
Does full pardon for the executioner
Appeal to you?

God’s ways are not our ways.

Stand Amazed

I have friends doing beautiful things.
Hard things.

Caring for a baby that might go back
To a bad situation. No way to change that.
Nothing to do but wait. Grieving.

Working full time and parenting two children
While the spouse does a year of residency far away.
Finally realizing the stress of months of constant work. Tired.

Readying a home or two for sale or moving while dealing with
Extended family trauma with grace and understanding.
And working through personal baggage. Hopeful.

Caring for a dying mother and a senile father
While loving children and grandchildren
Who sometimes make painful choices. Heartbroken. Luminous.

Preparing for marriage after a whirlwind courtship
While living in a city far from the intended,
And facing upheaval of her entire world. Joyful. Uncertain.

Beginning life anew
After the expected path ended.
Hoping for a new path with less pain. Unfurling.

Caring for children who are not neurotypical;
Caring for an overwhelmed relative not too far away,
Trying to make sure she keeps together for each new day. Caring.

Starting a new job after eight months of hating work,
And that time and more wrestling with God.
Sending prayers, encouragement, blessing to those around her. Loving.

Speaking to people about the work of the Holy Spirit
And calling those around her to faithfulness
While dealing with sometimes embarrassing physical limitations. Advocating.

Dealing with unwelcome news with fortitude,
Because she will do nothing else
Except move on, step by step. Faithful.

This was my week. Hearing these beautiful things.
Hard things.

And if I cry, it’s not only sorrow.
It’s richness of love and life.

Stand amazed at the company I keep.

Universal

My heart hurts when we go
From regular contact and real things
To nothing, or just a few words.

High Chair Missing

Although our digs feel spacious,
The idea of a high chair,
Or even a chair with designated booster,
Overwhelms me. Where would we put it?

And so I give the baby an apple slice,
Or maybe a cut up hot dog in a bowl,
Or bites of bread with thin smear of butter.
He plops down on the floor and digs in.

But his attention span is short,
And his brothers’ allures are many,
And so we end up with bits of hot dog
In the playroom, bits of apple in the bed.

One son put on socks to avoid the feel of
Greasy floor. Does it make me a bad mother
That I grin ruefully and flick dried apple to the floor,
Knowing it will all be mopped up on Saturday?

Such minor mess doesn’t phase me,
And never has. But sometimes
I see myself through another lens,
And it makes me question my legitimacy.

Heretic

I’ve lived in the home of heretics,
Sincere God-lovers all, with four faithful children.

I count heretics some of my close friends,
Despite their unorthodox view of the afterlife.
Sincere God-lovers all, with five faithful children.

So I feel slapped in the face by Paul’s stern admonition,
To warn such twice, and then reject, since the heretic
Is condemned of himself.

And so the accusers of the heretics can claim their Titus text
And the heretics carry on with the weight of condemnation.

Paul, why write something so subject to personal whim?
Why not define the term, rather than use that word
Once?

Peculiar

purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works

In Greek, peculiar only comes up once,
A peculiar word.

Having walked with God three decades now,
I daily find myself forgetting how others live,

What they find normal.
My life is normal to me.

But I suspect I might actually be
Peculiar.

And so I take the pejorative word
And embrace it.

Fly

A single fly, wafting lazily near my clean dishes,
Reminded me that, in recent summers,
My kitchen needed fly strips, changed weekly, covered
In dehydrated corpses of fruit flies and house flies.

I would find small collections of fly eggs,
Fly strike, in bowls of food left out.
And because we were perpetually short on
Fridge space, there were always bowls of food left out.

I would often remove the eggs and eat the food anyway,
Considering that most people around the world
Dealt with far worse food,
If roughly comparable conditions.

Every once in a while I have a clear view of
What my life looked like from a normal perspective
And I stand amazed by the sight of
A single fly, wafting lazily.

Advance Prep

Fighting allergies and exhaustion,
I took a break from reading to the boys
To go and clean out and prepare
A long unused freezer.

Only to find that past Amy,
Some years back,
Had already cleaned it
Beautifully.

I don’t know how she
Had the time. Most of my life
Seems survival, not forethought.
But I thank past Amy for that

Care.

Awake

I usually meet sleep interruptions
With equanimity, if not full coherence.
That is, after all, a large part of parenting.

But every once in a while comes a moment
When every part of my body craves rest
And the sad child cannot communicate

What comfort he requires. I understand then
Why torturers use forced wakefulness.
And that, too, is part of parenting.

Nahum

When we read Nahum today,
I found it hard to concentrate.
There was no story, some threats
And obscure names.

And God is quite unhappy with
Nineveh. They have been rotten
For a long time, and though slow
To anger, He won’t acquit the wicked.

I want the wicked to repent;
I want the violence to end.
Nahum says nothing of the former,
Though the latter will come to pass.

The LORD is good, a stronghold in trouble.

Competent

I.
Mechanical gizmos aren’t my thing.
When one apple peeler broke today,
I found a second one in storage.
Isaiah peeled apples. Dissatisfied with the sharpness
Of the blade, he substituted one for the other
And then micro-adjusted until peel without flesh
Came away. This would have frustrated me
Beyond measure.

For him, it was a minor inconvenience, and maybe even
Fun.

II.
Animal husbandry apparently isn’t my thing either.
Phil was away for the day. This afternoon,
Jadon asked me if we needed to do something for the cows.
They had never crossed my mind, though they should have.
He opened the next paddock, moved the water trough,
Adjusted the hose, and read patiently while the tank
Slowly filled.

It’s a good thing I have such competent help.

First Thing

Caleb, awake earlier than preferred
With a cough and snotty nose,
Watched Jadon walk by first thing.

As they grinned at each other,
Caleb sat up and
Clapped.

Egg and Spoon

Sometimes a book comes along
That is so perfect in beauty,
In truth, in language, in story

That the ending leaves me
Shattered, exhausted,
Satisfied.

And spoiled for regular reading,
Regular living.

At least for a day.

The Cat

Reading the classic fairy tale
The Light Princess to my sons,
We came across the witch
In a subterranean chamber,
With a magical snake
And her black cat.

“I like that cat,” said Abraham.

After a week, the witch
And snake depart,
With the black cat.

“I like that cat,” said Abraham.

What is it about this cat
This nameless, flat, clichéd character,
That captures his imagination?

Is it the very cliché?
The faithfulness of a creature
To accompany even the worst mistress?
The randomness of the author’s detail,
As the cat gets those two vague mentions
And not a bit more?

And why would he feel the need to comment
Every time?

A minor mystery in our literary life.

Haggai

It’s been some time since I read the Bible
And fell silent and astonished at its power.

I.
The two chapters of Haggai,
A message from God to the remnant that returned from Babylon.

They looked for much, and found little, and the little they had
Spoiled
Because God blew on it.

It’s a harsh picture.

I appreciate that he was doing it for a purpose,
That his Temple would be rebuilt, that his name would be
Glorified.

After he offers this uncalled for explanation, he tells the people:
“I am with you, saith the LORD.”

Powerful.

Having been five years looking for much and finding little,
I hope this Old Testament book is not applicable to me.
There is no Temple to rebuild.

II.
For those who saw the Temple before it was destroyed,
They felt the ruins were as nothing.
Understandable.

“I am with you, saith the LORD of hosts.
The glory of this latter house shall be greater than of the former,
And in this place will I give peace.”

Beautiful.

But then the meditation:
Holy meat does not make the things it touches holy;
An unclean body makes the things it touches unclean.
The unclean trumps the clean.
And all is now unclean.

“Consider from this day and upward:
From this day will I bless you.”

Patience for the work.
Patience for the seeds, the trees, to bear.

Wait for the desire of all nations to come.

Centurion

Jesus lived under Roman rule,
That world power that kept control through force.

How beautiful, then, to see a centurion,
Concerned for his dear servant, beseech Jesus.

As one of the ruling class, he could have commanded
Jesus come. But he didn’t. Rather,

He sent Jewish elders to put in a good word for him.
These men spoke of his worth, his love, his generosity.

Jesus went. But while he was still in the way,
Friends of the centurion came, and told Jesus to stop.

Not the command expected by the subjugator.
The worthy centurion claimed he was not worthy

To have Jesus enter his house. The commander refused
To make this an example of command.

He recognized that Jesus had authority.
And Jesus marveled at his faith, and healed the servant.

Anchor

Our friend wanted to keep his boat from drifting.
He tied himself to it, sat in the water, and held on tight.

Jadon said later, It sounds like a good example
Of Inventions that Have Already Been Invented.

Alien Coming

If an alien ship landed in your hometown,
Would you go towards it, or away from it?

Apparently, most people are like me:
Away from it. (At least at first.)

My friend argues persuasively for the opposite view.
You already know what life is like without aliens!
Why not go see what life could be like with aliens!

And while I can admire and wonder at that spirit of adventure,
I still think I would rather let someone else take the risk
Of initial investigation.

I’m not opposed to meeting an alien.
But I like my life and my safety.

And I can always fall back on the excuse,
“But I have children to care for!”

Which is, in the end, nothing but an excuse.

Flyover

I glanced out the gym window
And in a windshield saw a reflection of geese
Flying overhead. I heard their faint cry.

Besides the obvious recognition that fall is near,
I was struck more by the certainty
That, despite seeing no actual geese,
I had no doubt that the ephemeral glimpse
Reflected living birds.

I sometimes see God reflected
In the people around me. Perhaps ephemeral,

But no less real.

Hummingbird Nest

As we harvested apples,
We came across a nest
Tucked in a tree crook,
That appeared to be tiled
In blue lichen.

A hummingbird nest.
Could a bird be any more perfect?

Art as Rebellion

If all of art is rebellion,
Either in content or form,
I don’t think my poems
Will ever be art.

Because while I suppose
I like innovation,
e.e. cummings already dropped capitals,
And others dropped line breaks
In favor of the “prose poem,”
That oxymoron.
And who writes sonnets,
Or even uses iambic pentameter
Anymore?

Once you’ve rebelled against
Capitals, line breaks, structure, and meter,
There’s not much else in poetry form
To discard. Or innovate.

And as for content rebellion,
That tends to be simply
“Transgressive.”
As if that’s appealing to me.

But maybe if I write about children
And faithfulness
And Jesus

Such topics are different enough from our culture,
That is rebellion enough.

Haunted

The shade of Phil’s Grammy’s mother
Haunts me. Family lore claims that
She made Gramps an apple pie a day—
Or maybe it was a week—
Anyway, she was busy baking.

Apple pie is Phil’s favorite. Time and finances
Have always kept me from baking as much as preferred.

But we are in apples for this week.
And Phil is in pie paradise.
Two yesterday, two today.
Prospects looking good for tomorrow.

Freezer

Our second-hand industrial freezer
Died with thousands of dollars of pork inside.
We gave it away; a financial hit,
But not a total loss. Our friends ate well.

Years later, with the confidence that comes from
A house built from scratch, Phil researched online.
Then he ordered the parts, tinkered,
Recharged the Freon line, and, happily,
The freezer is currently cooling
Close to two hundred pounds of apples.

And I will hope that after we bring home
Thousands of dollars of beef,
That this fix sticks.

Apple Harvest

Although I expected apple harvest to last
Weeks, if not months,
We managed our harvest in a few hours
This afternoon.
Many trees had none; most had five or less.

But there was a section of patented
Goldrush, eight trees that produced
Twice as much again as the other 300 trees
Combined.

As we harvested those eight, filling
A couple crates and buckets,
We realized how very intense the harvest
Would be, were all the trees as productive.

Ethiopian Eunuch

When Philip goes to the road to Gaza
And meets the chariot with the
Ethiopian eunuch returning to Candace
The queen, he hears the man reading
From the scroll of Isaiah,
And tells him that he reads of Jesus.
The eunuch believes and is baptized
And the Ethiopian church has lasted
From that time to this.

It’s a great story.

But I had never before considered
The scroll itself that the man read.
All scrolls were hand-copied.
Apparently, they were carefully kept.
So this foreigner, reading in the desert …
Where did he get this treasure?

God’s been at work a long time.

A Hot Shower

My sister once went to Kiev.
The one story I remember is that
She showered in unheated water;
That was all there was.

I think of that sometimes.
In the summer in Virginia,
A hot shower sounds like torment.
But I still like the water at least a little warm.

Now the weather has cooled just enough
That I can again enjoy the hot water
Hitting my head and shoulders,
Cooling by the time it reaches my feet.

Phil prefers the bath, and a long soak
In scalding water has its place.
But if I had to choose, I think I’d keep
The tactile pleasure, and efficiency, of a hot shower.

Thanksgiving

My friend expected a surgery today,
To remove a body from her body.

But God intervened, and allowed her body
To release the body yesterday night,
Three weeks after it had died,
At the last possible day before surgical intervention,
Without physical pain, without fear.

She had a chance to hold the tiny body
In her hands, and see the ribs, the limbs,
Even the fingers of each hand.
Death. Life. Sorrow. Thanksgiving.

Eleven weeks gestation.
Held for a time, and delivered to God.

Jude

And of some have compassion, making a difference: And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.

One of our sons has Jude as a middle name,
A short, crazy book that ends with two of
The most glorious verses in the entire Bible.

But in the preceding twenty-three, there are
Angels in chains, the devil disputing over the body of Moses,
The errors of Cain, Balaam, Korah,

All emphasizing a warning against men
Who have crept into the church, who are
Described poetically in devastatingly vivid imagery.

But what arrested me as we read it today
Was the reminder that
The world is not black and white.

Some will require compassion. Offer it to them.
Some will require fear. Offer it to them.
The Holy Spirit will help with discerning who needs which.

God knows we’re not all alike. Don’t pretend that we are.

Goosebumps

I woke up last week with a friend on my mind.
I had considered several times writing her
On a personal matter, but it was so personal,
And so not my business, I had chosen not to.
Multiple times.

But this waking impression was strong,
And so I wrote my little letter and sent it off
And heard nothing for a week.

Until today, when she said that the words
Were exactly the words that she needed
At that exact moment: “Thank you to God
For giving us a word, and thank you to you
For being in a place to hear it and pass it on.”

How gracious is God even in that response.
Today I had been reading a book
About the persecuted church,
And how the Lord is at work there.

As goosebumps rose on my arms,
I thanked God for this reminder:
That he is at work here, too.

Weight Room

As a scrawny middle schooler,
I went to the community rec center
And used the weight room.

It felt intimidating,
So many pieces of equipment,
And I was lifting alone.

A muscular man was talking to
His lifting partner about
A mild-mannered mutual friend.

“He played football in college,
And one day he got into an elevator
With a girl who said, nastily,

‘Hello, Mr. Steroid.’
He pushed her up against the wall
And said, ‘You bitch,

You keep your mouth shut
Or I’ll kill you.’
Those steroids, they mess with your mind.”

The weight room felt intimidating still.
But no longer just from ignorance
And not knowing the patterns of the place.

Who could tell when a mild-mannered man
Might turn would-be murderer?

Superhero

While I was distracted during a diaper change,
Caleb wandered off.
Isaiah put a Superman cape on him,
A red train dragging on the ground behind.

Abraham pointed out the obvious.
“The first rule of superheroes is that
They need to wear pants.
Or at least diapers.”

Just Before Six

Phil woke me as he was headed out.
It was just before six, and I remember
Asking God on behalf of my friend,
Close to delivery,
To hold all things together by the
Word of his power.

Later that day, I heard that the new babe
Was born at 6:02, and those last few minutes
Were the worst pain the mother ever remembered
In multiple deliveries, horrific, screaming,
Terrible pain.

And I got to pray for my friend in that moment.

I don’t understand everything God does.

But I think this is pretty cool.

II John, III John

deal with hospitality.

Respectively, don’t entertain those
Who deny that Jesus is come in the flesh.

Don’t fail to entertain those
Who are spreading the gospel.

So hospitality is more than just
Feeding people in your home.

There is a mystery here, that
Accepting and aiding has

Force in the heavenlies.

Feed well.

Sun in the Windows

I have been surprised the last two days
By the lights on in the house.

When I go to turn them off,
I find they are actually sunlight.

The sun’s angle has shifted in autumn
So that the light comes through the windows

In a way and at a time that it hasn’t
Through the hot summer months.

Good design.

Misdirection

I spent half my day grieving.
It’s been a hard week for so many.

Looking ahead to a dinner with
Two friends, I felt enervated, empty.

But I’ve been thinking about misdirection,
About that trick of magicians, pickpockets,
And Satan.

Grief is not joyful expectation
For a pleasant evening.

Thank God, I caught it in time.

Thank God, joyful expectation was the right response.

News by Email

I woke in the night
For no real reason,
And stumbled out to check my phone
For no real reason,

And opened the email that
Your fourth child had
Beat you Home, a direct
Transition from womb to heaven.

And today you yet carry this tiny body,
Facing a surgery soon,
A cutting end to a hopeful beginning.
I pray for you, my friend, with sorrow.

Jonah

Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, that we perish not?

So said the king of Nineveh,
That exceeding great city,
Who heard rumors that yet
Forty days until the city
Would be overthrown.

Who, indeed?

Jonah

could have told him
That God would repent.
But Jonah had delivered
His message of judgment,
And went out to wait
To witness the destruction

That wouldn’t come,
Because the people of Nineveh

Believed God.

Spelling

Dictating spelling sentences during dinner prep,
Isaiah asked multiple times what the sentence was.

“Do you want to do a puzzle with me?”
I repeated for the seventh time in as many minutes,
A bit exasperated by the incredible duration
Of the writing of these few simple words.

He is often distractible, but this was extreme.

Reading over the sentences later, I came across this.
Cn xnt vzms sn cn sgir otyyk vzhs ld.

A simple code from a playful son, almost perfectly
Executed, using the prior letter to the one needed.

And I had been annoyed at the time it took,
When my son was simply
Injecting joy into a boring exercise.

Adam

Joe asked, “Why was Adam lonely?
He had all the animals!”

Was he lonely?
“Lonely” doesn’t show up in the Bible.

When we read the pertinent part
Of Genesis two, God says,
“It is not good that man should be alone,”
And then has all the beasts go to Adam
For naming. And
“For Adam there was not found a help
Meet for him.”

So then God makes Eve and the story goes on.

But as I read it, God sees the need,
Orchestrates events so Adam sees the need,
And then satisfies the need.

God is there, first, last, and middle.

So was Adam lonely? Who knows?
Who cares?

God saw something that was not good,
And he made it very good.

Obadiah

In the Bible, it’s good to know
Who wrote each book,
To whom,
And why.

I thought to demonstrate with a one-chapter book,
Like Philemon,
Except the boys already knew
Paul wrote to Philemon on behalf of
Nemesis, er,
Onesimus, escaped slave,
Now beloved brother.

So we turned to Obadiah,
That minor prophet,
Who wrote “concerning Edom.”
Jadon knew that the Edomites
Descended from Esau.

And bad things were coming.
A robber would have left some things behind,
And a harvester wouldn’t have gathered all grapes,
But the destruction coming to Edom would be absolute.

I kept reading, waiting for an out, a promise that
If they turned, the judgment would be stayed.
“But upon mount Zion shall be deliverance”
Sounded hopeful, except it was followed with
The dire picture of the house of Jacob as a flame and
The house of Esau as the stubble that would be burned up.

And whether the book is supposed to be
A warning for Esau, an encouragement for revenge-minded
Israelites, or simply a prediction of what’s to come
For God’s glory, we never decided.

In any case, it’s harsh.

How interesting, then, to note the next book,
Jonah. His message was simple:
“Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown.”
Nothing helpful, like, “Repent.” Simply a promise of
Impending judgment.

Yet the city repented, unprompted, and God spared them,
For a few generations.

A message of judgment, unsoftened by hope.
Yet there was hope for those who looked.
In the room of judgment without an exit,
The Ninevites made an exit anyway.

It makes me rethink Obadiah.
Judgment is promised for the Edomites.
But if they would have just turned, perhaps
The judgment would have been stayed.

Reputation

I think about Jesus, born of a virgin.

As if that story would be believed.

The story of his illegitimate birth
Followed from Bethlehem to Egypt
To Nazareth, Capernaum, Jerusalem.

The bastard, speaking about God.

“We have Abraham to our father,”
Implying, “Too bad no one knows
Who yours is. Except your mother.”

As if any girl in an agricultural society
Would think it a good excuse to invent
A virgin birth. And then stick with that
Story for decades to come.

Please.

Doesn’t the very irrationality of the claim
Make it more believable?

As does the account of the mean gossip,
Dogging the footsteps

Of the Son of God.

Both Right

When Absalom died,
David wept.
“O my son Absalom, my son,
My son Absalom! Would God
I had died for thee, O Absalom,
My son, my son!”

How could a father do anything but?

When David wept,
Joab corrected.
“Your faithful followers preserved
Your kingdom now grieve for the good
They did you. Go comfort them,
Or you will have no one by tomorrow.”

How could a general do anything but?

How can opposite responses both be right?

We don’t live in a world of black and white.

Humbled

With forty, sixty, eighty people
At a party with music and prayer
And deep conversation,
It is easy to feel like an awesome
Party-Thrower.

With twenty-two intrepid guests,
Many a good bit younger,
Many new, many less talkative …
It is easy to feel like a failure
Party-Thrower.

First thought on waking:
“Do you think your insecurity
Relates to your need to be perfect?”

Ah.

I had twenty-two people
Drive an hour to spend the evening with me.
That humbles me.

I showed them the love of Christ
In whatever way I could.
I should let the outcome go.

That humbles me.

Surprised/Not Surprised

I’ve guessed for some time that life wasn’t great.
But I thought it was getting better.

It wasn’t.

So she has her new man, and he’s looking around,
And the children are just happy that everyone is happier.

Two decades is a long time to be unhappy.

And I am left, a peripheral friend, sad,
And wondering what exactly is even the call.

Colorless

I watched a prayer session.
A black woman wept over a childhood memory
Of seeing the white school and thinking,
“I’m not good enough.”

She had a vision, then,
Of colorless entities moving.
“The spirit is colorless.
Color is a thing of earth.”

Color is a thing of earth.

Child of Grace

A Harvard professor described his students thus:

Strivers work hard at all time, fighting to be where they are.

Legacies, perhaps a bit bored, sail through
On the strength of their name, money, history.

And children of grace
Attend as a gift,
Learn with delight,
Live with zest, love, pleasure.

In teaching, I want to raise children of grace.

But might this apply to our fellow Christians, too?
Some are working and fighting;
Some rest smugly on family
Faithfulness or doctrine.

And some are children of grace,
Who receive the gift,
Who follow with delight,
Who live a life of zest, love, pleasure.

In life, I want to be a child of grace.

A Low Point

I once said something that smacked of envy
To a friend about a friend.
In astonishment, he said,
“I can’t think of a single measure that you’re not winning.”

Since that was true, I had to face
Something more ugly than envy:
I was not envious because I wanted what the friend had.
I was envious because I didn’t want anything good for the friend.

How can anyone think that humans are basically good?

What Dreams May Come

Reading quietly next to baby
While he slept, I was surprised
When, still asleep,
He clapped his hands.
What dream was he having,
Worthy of applause?

A Bug

Caleb crawled after a black bug.
He caught it.
It crawled up his arm and under his chin,
And he sat, serene, as it snuck under
His necklace. No twitching, no discomfort.
Just peace, as the bug’s six legs carried it
Under his shirt.

I laughed until I realized that I was about
To put him to bed, in my bed,
And if the bug was still there, it might crawl on me,
And I would not be so serene.

I patted him down, and shook out his shirt,
But no bug showed. It made a great escape.

Perhaps we should have named Caleb
Francis, or Agassiz, those who loved living things,
Saint and scientist.

Perhaps he will be both!

Haircut

Finally unable to deal with the corona of clown hair,
I went back for a redo.

I was surprised at the intensity of the process.

Because there was loss:
The towhead waves of childhood,
The spiral blonde curls of adolescence,
The young mom golden ‘do of my twenties,
All passed now into a wiry brown of indeterminate worth.

And there was uncertainty:
I have needed low maintenance;
I have chosen no cost,
And, I will admit, I have never lost
Some wish for the long hair
That Paul claims is a glory to a woman,
A little Bible burden that has never meshed
Well with my reality.

And there were competing desires:
In a perfect world, I would pick long hair
And Phil would pick short.
I would pick curls
And Phil would pick straight.

So I had to actually think about me.
Am I worth a haircut more often than
Annually? Is it possible to like my look?
If I have long hair but always pull it back
Because it never looks good, is that good?

I am shorn now. My hair
And my person and my personality
All match.

I didn’t know it could be done.

Unscheduled

I went to gather my sons for some additional schoolwork,
Only to find them all gathered around a game,
Sorting the cards into alphabetical order
And laughing over the vocabulary.

Seems they chose the schoolwork they wanted today.

More Love

… that ye might know the love which I have more abundantly unto you …

Unexpectedly while driving,
A message from a friend,
Ready for prayer.

In college, my mentor’s parting card
Spoke of her hope that I would learn
To love deeply and well.

I thought of that today, as love
For my friend rose up,
From my heart to my eyes.

I am learning.
And with deeper love comes
Increased pain and increased

Joy.

Self-Loathing

I glanced in the mirror this morning
And burst into tears.
I have never had a visceral hatred
Of my appearance.

Oh, my sisters, I did not understand.

If you live with self-loathing every day,
How can you bear that weight?
Can I build you up so you release the burden,
So that you like yourself, in and out?

Oh, my sisters, I do not know.

This pain is too deep for me.
You bear it, Jesus,
For my sisters and me.

God as a Jazz Musician

A musician said that there are
No wrong notes in jazz.
The whole group listens, and
Reacts to each new note.
So they collaborate together,
And create something new
And beautiful.

My friend wondered if maybe
God is like a jazz musician.
We make a move, and He
Reacts, so that together we
Co-create something new
And beautiful.

Perhaps that’s not orthodox.
But can I admit I like the thought?

Lug Nuts

Driving around near D.C.,
Discombobulated and distracted,
I thought how thankful I was
That my tires did not suddenly
Roll off. Thank God for his protection.

In a distant part of the state,
Phil dropped off two cows.
Stopped at a stop sign, a glint
And a clink caught his eye and his ear.
A lug nut went rolling past.

The shop that recently replaced two tires
Had not tightened the lug nuts enough.
One was missing. All others were loose.

This was not the day my husband died.
Thank God for his protection.

Not Growthful

My friend, having grieved infertility for years,
Said that, for the first time, she could hold in tension

Both the grief of that one dream unfulfilled
And the opportunity of all other dreams possible.

She called that growth. In Christianese: improvement.

But I reject the idea that grief was the wrong response
That she corrected with greater maturity,

Rather than a right response to a legitimate sorrow
That, in the fullness of time, now allows space for the next thing.

It is still faithful to enter into mourning.

Boys in the Pool

In June, I brought the boys to a pool.

In descending age,
Two were happy to get in.
One sat forlornly on the steps.
One refused to enter even to ankles.
And one sobbed hysterically if he touched water.
It was unpleasant.

So what a surprise today to find three children
Transformed.

The two happy poolers were still happy.

But the forlorn now bopped around happily,
Both with a pool noodle and without.

The refuser not only sat right down on the step
Although he had intended to do nothing but
Dip his feet, but he gradually, over an hour or two,
Went in to waist, then neck, until he was blowing
Bubbles, and going underwater. Unheard of.

And as for the hysterical sobber? He didn’t let out a peep,
But sat in my arms, with water up to his chest or his neck,
And occasionally bent his face and came up sputtering,
As he does in the bathtub in an inch of water,
Testing, perhaps, whether underwater breathing is a
Developmental ability that he just needs to grow into,
Or maybe simply enjoying the feel of water on the face
And the choking that comes from not being able to breathe.
He sat until he was blue-lipped, but he still did not cry,

Enjoying a day at the pool.

Mount Vernon

I.
On this hot, humid day.
We sat a few minutes in the shade
Of the back veranda at Mount Vernon
And enjoyed the breeze wafting up
From the Potomac.

And I felt an entire vacation telescope
In that brief time of beauty and refreshment,
Restored in body, heart, and mind.

II.
Weeks now, Isaiah has been wishing for hamburgers.
After three sweaty hours, we sat in the food court
Enjoying bun-less burgers and fries.

In Abraham’s analogy,
Like wanderers in a desert that come across gold,

We felt far more gladness in that patty and potatoes
Than if we had not survived the fatigue before.

Second Definition

The second definition of “Lykoshing”:

An apology for something that requires no apology,
Like making hot dogs for a guest with mustard
Squirted in annoying globs instead of pretty lines,
Or when some beers are only cold but not chilled,
Because I didn’t put enough in the refrigerator.

I want my friends to be perfectly satisfied
And am acutely aware when all is not impeccable.
I wish that it was, and I’m sorry.

Fluid

“You’ve always been perfect to me,”
Said my friend, who knows (all too well)
That I’m not.

“But then, my definition of that is fluid.”

Two Mountains

Hebrews contrasts Mount Sinai,
A place of darkness and holy fear,

With Mount Zion, filled with
God and innumerable angels
And saints and
Jesus,

A crescendo of relationship and
Love.

On a day when my spirit drank in
My friend, my friends, my sons,
My sister, my spouse …

To say nothing of my
God …

I say with Caleb,

Give me that mountain.