Fronded

Have you seen a fern in spring?
Involuted like a snail shell,
Beginning to unwind.

The frond unfurls,
The tiny green button uncurls.
Ah! a large leaf.

Have you seen a person in pain?
Involuted like an unborn babe,
Curled and constricted,

Vital organs protected.
There comes a day, though, where
The fetal position relaxes, and

Slowly the person reveals
What has always been there,
Just waiting for spring.

Centered

There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God.

It is a time of death.
A time of change.
A time of inchoate thoughts.
A time of spiritual upwelling.

I arrived at my friend’s feeling
Eviscerated—
Feeling both disemboweled and
Deprived of my essence.

We prayed and ate
And spoke of God and writing,
Of unending paperwork and
Rest.

I left, centered.

Yet Living

When the fire alarm went off at 2:30 in the morning,
Only a short time after I had fallen asleep,
I stumbled to the step ladder and did what I could.

Fire alarms are now hard-wired into the house.
I couldn’t turn the alarm to release the battery,
But I could pull it down and unwire it.
So I pulled off the electrical caps, all three,
And somehow wrestled apart the wires,
All the while, watching the two boys
Sleeping in my bed, hoping they would stay that way.

Finally, finally the blasted device was down.
I walked it out to the car where it could beep
All night, all by itself.

When Phil came home, he went to put it back in place,
But first used his voltmeter to see if the wires were hot.
They were.

Had I considered turning off the breaker before
Undoing all those wires?
Not once.
It was 2:30am!

I suspect I wouldn’t have considered it even in the day.

In all seriousness: Phil isn’t sure how I am not dead.

My blithesome ignorance terrifies me,
Even as my miraculous survival amazes me.

Thanks be to God.

Torture by Children

I believe children are a blessing.

But every once in a while,
I am tired to the point of pain,
And when one wakes me

Because he needs a hotdog or a hug

Or for no discernable reason

I have a moment of desperate wishing
That I was alone
And could sleep in peace.

My Processing Is Stuck

Phil flew home.
An hour later I left
For one who had gone home
Permanently.

Caleb cried all morning.
After I got home,
He cried all night.
I’m his mom, and I am here.

How does one process
A mom who will not come home again?

Going Home

The end was coming—
Such was apparent.

But constant vigil for weeks
Is wearing, and so
The seven children had finally
Scattered
On that beautiful Saturday,
Only to be summoned back
By a father, in tears.

Clothes quickly packed, drive down,
Through a glorious sunset.

Had they stopped for gas,
They would have missed it.

One in the room with her mother
For the final breaths.
And then peace.

Peace for the mom.

Not yet for the rest.

Tell Him Hey for Me

Atticus confronts the mob he expected,
Afraid when his daughter, son, friend arrive.
Scout recognizes a father of a classmate,
Greets him, speaks of any common interest,
Asks him to tell his son hey for her.

This simple speech, unafraid, innocent,
Disarms the mob
As they re-enter their shared
Community,
Humanity.

Mrs. Dubose

I wanted you to see something about her—I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do. Mrs. Dubose won, all ninty-eight pounds of her. According to her views, she died beholden to nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I ever knew.

I’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird
A dozen times or more. I know that
Mrs. Dubose is a morphine addict,
But determines to die free of all constraints,
And so torments her mind and body.

She dies, cantankerous, free.

Atticus’s perceptive teaching,
Her fiery perseverance,
The post-death reconciliation,

That, in this one case, a wrong is made right—

I weep every time.

Surveying the Damage

Isaiah gave me a hug as
He headed for bed.
“This has been a fun week.”

Three painted canvases.
Two Star Wars episodes.
All of Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat.
All of The Penderwicks.
Two trails, three hikes.
One meal at Chipotle.
One new Foxtrot collection from the bookstore.
One concert.
Two batches of cookies.
Two day guests, and two overnight guests.
Two judo practices.

It has been a fun week!

Sam Waits

Sam the stuffed dog
Sleeps with Phil.
Joe brings him nightly,
And picks him up the next morn
To play.

I’m glad for Sam, said Joe.
When asked why—
Because he gets Daddy back.
Oh, has he missed him? (Have you missed him?)
Yes, he said,
Wiping away a tear.

First Painting

At a party, we painted
As instructed,
Choosing our colors,
Each canvas unique
In combination
And technique.

I hadn’t expected
To enjoy the creation.
But I did,
And I eagerly
Anticipate
Painting again.

Slumber Party

Two friends wondered if they could come
To study and maybe talk.
They would arrive at nine at night.
I welcomed the company, but suggested
A slumber party,
And so they came and we talked for six hours,
Fell asleep, and woke to go our separate ways,
Refreshed and celebrating
Friendship.

Distraction

Caleb found a mud puddle
And stepped in, up to his ankles.
I washed the mud out of his shoes,
But they were still damp a day later.

Clad in hipster orange and blue,
My barefoot son
Wandered through the sermon,
Entertained himself with empty coffee cup,
Folded bulletin, and puzzle ring,
Four brothers silently vying for his
Attention.

I am not sure how to feel about this
Gentle perpetual motion from mother to brother.
Enforce complete stillness?
Entertain embarrassment over my poor training?
Embrace the silence with thanksgiving?

For today, I choose the last,
And trust those sitting near
Heard what they needed,
Barefoot distraction notwithstanding.

Cleave

Ancient vows:
Cleave an animal in two
And walk between the halves.

May it be unto me
As unto this animal
If I do not fulfill my vow.

God cut a covenant
With Abraham, but only He
Walked between the halves.

Only God’s body
Would be torn
If He did not fulfill His vow.

How the Christian Responded

I know that Jesus begged the Father
In the Garden
For the cup to pass from Him.

I know that.

And yet the idea of

Divine impotence

Made that wish so terribly human,
I can hardly hold the thought.

There is no one like our God.

What the Atheist Said

Job asks God about suffering.
In the normal read, God,
Omnipotent, reminds Job of his
Power, until Job repents in dust and ashes.

Man, there is no answer, except for me.

But Slavoj Zizek wonders if the story is about
Divine impotence, that God
Himself shares Job’s astonishment
At the chaos, the madness,
Of the created universe.
That rather than soothing Job’s frustration,
He intensifies it.
There is no rational answer. Indeed,
God suffers, too.

Then Zizek goes further, and wonders
Whether Job’s silence in the end is that of
Pathos, one survivor sitting with another.

“Today it’s me, tomorrow it will be
Your own son, and there will be
No one
To intervene for him.”

Man, there is no answer, except for me.

Provided

Normally if Phil goes out of town,
He’s gone from Sunday to Friday.
It’s manageable, and I’m used to it.

Fourteen years ago, he was gone eight days
And I thought he looked different when he came
Back, and it took us a week or eight days
To remerge our lives.

I have a little more than two days to go now
In this, a nine day separation.
We’ve had a few brief hellos, and one fifteen minute talk.
I thought I was doing well.

Then I drove up to town and found myself
Feeling teary in the produce section.
This has happened before, surrounded by so many beautiful
Options, and I had just been listening to songs of
Resurrection. Of course I was teary. But I glanced over
And a man and woman
Were just talking and it made me catch my breath
In wonder and longing.

No more than half a minute later,
I looked up to see a dear friend,
A friend I had considered calling to see if she would
Accompany me in my shopping,
But had delayed so long it would have been
Impractical. She had debated: Go? Stay? Go?
And came, and there she was, in my moment of loneliness.

Not alone!

Three D's

Life is too short;
I make the most of the time I have.

So when I sat across from a prophetess,
I asked for a word for me.

“You are very Diligent.
And you are also a Delight.
And I can see that you Dig in to people’s lives.

But maybe you can just soak in the knowledge
That God Delights in you.”

How Did This Happen?

The boys watched Star Wars: A New Hope
With one adult friend who had never seen it,
While his roommate quoted the entire thing.

How did they live together so long
Without sharing this viewing experience?

Strings and Drums

A new album has a song begin
With dramatic strings and bass.
As I drive through a colonnade of redbuds,
My life has a satisfying soundtrack.

Something New

Abraham tried acrylics today.
He cried.

I get it. The picture wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

How to reassure him that whatever the end result,
The try was what I wanted.

Daily Changing

Unusually, I’ve driven the same twenty miles
Three days in a row.

Unbelievably, it has changed day to day.

Day One the cherries bloomed white,
While the hill glinted with a shimmer of green,
Black branches and trunks underneath.

Day Two the trees mixed the reds and oranges of fall
With the purples and yellows of spring.

Day Three the dogwoods opened.
From one day to the next: the dogwoods!

And even here, on the farm:
There is a green tree that yesterday was not.

And today the apple trees are covered with flowers.
Yesterday they were not.

If you feel like there is nothing changing in you,
That your yesterdays extend back and back, all the same,

Perhaps tomorrow is the day the blossoms emerge in your life.
Wait for it. It will surely come.

Be Filled

“Be not drunk with wine;
Be filled with the Spirit.”

In the middle of the sermon,
The pastor asked if anyone

Who had been transformed
Would be willing to stand.

Yes.

Sober:
Twenty-six years.
Four years. Four years.
Eleven years.

Applaud the work of God
In our midst!

Take Off

The first ten minutes the boys ran.
All four of them, pounding the trail,
Whether up hill, down hill, level.

Overflowing exuberance in a new place,
Exercising new muscles,
In perfect 70 degree weather.

The energy flagged eventually,
As I knew it would.
And yet, at the top of every rise,

The arms would flare just a bit,
The prelude for the dash downhill,
The take off before flight.

Improvident

I have noticed a universal response to love language discussions.

Quality time: of course.
Words of affirmation: necessary. So obvious when lacking.
Acts of service: every child receives these, every caretaker gives. Needed.
Physical touch: makes sense. Every child (but one) came about as a result.

Gifts: … gifts?

A chuckle. “I don’t really get it.”

A friend, having already given Phil a bath salt birthday present,
Found a variation on the theme and gave another.

And I thought about how ridiculous that we laugh—laugh!—
At this expression of our extravagant God,
Who not only declares that every good gift is from above,
From the Father,
But who proved it by sending his Son,
In what may be viewed as the most prodigal, wasteful endeavor ever.

So to you who gives gifts for no reason,
I thank you.
You enrich our lives
And show us a part of God
That we would miss without you.

Poetry Reading

I read, and you read,
And a man I’d never met read.

And I left, gobsmacked,
At how different our voices are,

At how needed they all are.
Mine, yours, his.

Concert

As the twenty-three musicians
Praised their Savior,

I cried for the beauty of community,
The joy of worship,

And the gift of their talents,
Shared with us.

Fairer Still

Fair are the meadows. Fairer still the woodland, clothed in the blooming garb of spring.

Over two hours today in the car.
None of it wasted.

Friends! The dogwoods are white.
The redbuds lavender.
Some trees have a sheen of viper green.

The open fields a swath of rich green.
The peaches pink,
The forsythia yellow,
The cherries white with pink tinge.

I drove, fighting tears,
With the sun illuminating it all.
Jadon read Housman.

“Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom upon the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.

“Now of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

“And since to look at things in bloom,
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.”

And Abraham said,
“Now I have a new appreciation for cherries.”

As art illuminates anew
What was already there, just waiting
To be seen.

Joe's Favorite Day

When we got home from church,
We grabbed a quick lunch,
Changed into grubby clothes,
And went for a hike at a local park.

Hiking with my boys involved a lot of
Running.
They were in flip-flops, and I was in boots.
I have thirty years on Joe.
Did I mention the baby on my back?

But we ran and walked for an hour,
And after ate pretend Oreos,
And exclaimed over the green fields,
The glowing colors on the drive home.

After a homemade pizza dinner,
We drove back to town for a friend’s concert,
Then home for chocolate sprinkles on bread
Before we read a bit of an enticing book.

Over and over Joe said how much he liked this day,
His favorite day.

Chaminade

I had no repertoire.
My teacher suggested a Chaminade,
A composer I had never heard of.
I worked on it.

I can’t say now, fifteen years later,
How close I came to perfecting it.
There is a run of thirty-second notes
With a single natural circled,
Evidence that I would forget that blip.

I listened to a professional play it perfectly,
And I was astounded at my audacity
To practice such a piece,

Astounded at the power, beauty, length
Of what the younger me attempted to accomplish.

Panicked

As I learn to hear from God,
I have noticed a phenomenon.

Sometimes I need to make a decision
And I feel rushed and panicked:

Let me choose this immediately,
Lest the opportunity be lost!

I can’t think of an example
When such a decision goes well.

Hagel

My mom read a study:
What children around the world eat for breakfast?
Dutch children eat hagel, chocolate sprinkles, on bread.

What children in the world are happiest?
Dutch children are very happy.

Could there be a connection?
I ordered boxes of sprinkles.

And I think I am happier!
I prefer life with chocolate sprinkles in the morning.

The Weather

I offer this testimony.

Month after month, the weather turns
Horrid
Right as we prepare to host.

Ninety degrees when it turns a perfect 70
The next day.

Snow, rain, mud.

Month after month, Phil asks
If we should cancel
Or do something, anything!
But month after month
There is nothing to be done.

Until I pointed out this pattern.

This month, the forecast was rain in the morning.
We rolled our eyes and laughed.

Rain there was, indeed, at midnight.
Sun there was by sunrise, and gusts of wind.
By party start, I asked for no more gusts,
And no gusts came.

Sunny, chilly, dry, beautiful.

Thanks be to God.

Sometimes There Is Nothing

Three months back, a friend came to a party
And left very soon.
He hadn’t looked like he was having a good time,
And I felt the weight of that failure to provide.

Two months back, a friend came to a party
And left sort of soon.
She hadn’t looked like she was having a good time,
And I felt the shame of that failure to engage.

But I can see now that she was simply
Introverted.
Engagement will look different for her.
That doesn’t mean I failed.

And I know now that he was dealing
With hard things,
And there was nothing I could have done
To improve his time.

Sometimes there is nothing.

Hospitality Demands

In the midst of a fabulous time
With guests and laughter,
I went to change the baby’s diaper.

As my back was turned to get a new nappy,
I heard a soft, strange noise,
And turned back to find baby and bed covered in vomit.

The baby had not eaten much:
Apparently, a piece of pineapple, a jelly bean, and kefir water.
But he was drenched and furious. And loud.

This was a new conundrum for me.
How to allow the guests to continue in peace
While also cleaning, comforting, and quieting Caleb?

As carefully as possible.
After bathing, I sat in quiet and visited with a friend,
While the baby ate and fell asleep.

Sleepwalker

In the middle of the night I awoke
To baby cries,
Coming from the kitchen.

Caleb had bypassed Phil,
Ignored me,
Crawled over Joe,
And wandered alone into the dark house.

He seems young to be sleepwalking,
But if he was awake,
Why did he not notice me next to him,
As he has every other night of his life?

Out the Door

I put Caleb’s shoes on.
He walked to the door,
Reached up,
Pulled the handle,
Opened it,
And walked out.

We have entered
A new dispensation.

The Ox and the Crib

Where no oxen are, the crib is clean, but much increase is by the strength of the ox.

With a party coming soon,
I walked outside into the brilliant spring sun,
Looked at the detritus strewn about,
Attempted a desultory pick up,
And avoided a panic attack by going inside
And pretending the great outdoors doesn’t exist.

As I sat in my tidy bedroom,
The only room that I manage to keep clean most days,
I read an article with the heading,
“A clean house is a sign of a wasted life.”
Which is, perhaps, a variation on the proverb
About oxen and manure and how
You don’t have one without the other.

This reminder came at just the right time.
If the boys went away to school,
If Caleb didn’t pull books off the shelf,
If I cooked for only one or two,
The house would stay more clean.
If we hadn’t attempted animal husbandry,
If we hadn’t built a home from scratch,
We wouldn’t now have evidence all over of
Failures and successes.

I stayed in my tidy bedroom, but
The overwhelming feeling of failure
Passed on.

A Living Wedge

I had just finished working
And Phil came to give me a hug.
He called Isaiah to be in the middle
Of our hug sandwich,
And we all ended up lying on the bed
Where our son received kisses on both cheeks,
Protesting just enough for form’s sake.
We could tell he liked it.
We all laughed.

Not Caleb. He heard Isaiah’s summons
And came too. Apparently envious
That he was not the focus
Of the affection,
He first sat on Isaiah’s head,

Then, incredibly, figured out that if he
Put his feet at our head level and
Inched his way down,
Eventually he would be
Encircled in our arms,
A living wedge
To enrich our lives
And our affections.

Vacation Planner

Most of the year, I take no thought
For the wider world,
Happy enough to live my life.

But there comes a day when
I have a gut feeling about where to go,
And I feel compelled to research.

I’ve done this before, and I know
Approximately
What I need to find out, once we’ve settled
General date and location.

Map the driving distances.
Check Trip Advisor for attractions.
Look at vacation rentals by owner
(Not many homes sleep 17);
Contact promising places.
Search for caterers.
Search for health food stores.

Then call the travel agent for tickets,
Make sure the rental cars are ready,
Hash out details of transitions as best I can.

And then my travel itch will be scratched
Until the week before we leave.