The Love of God

It is said that R.A. Torrey earnestly sought God’s face, and one day while he was reading the Scriptures and praying, he was so overwhelmed with a profound consciousness of God’s love for him that he began to weep and weep. Eventually he asked God to show him no more: he could not bear it.

In prayer, my friend had a vision of herself
In a shallow pool.

She asked for more.
An enormous ocean stood behind the pool.

My love is even greater than this ocean,
And you experience only this shallow pool.

And yet …
It is enough.

Progression

It began in a garden
And ends in a city.

The Garden of Eden
To the New Jerusalem.

But could we not also say
That it began in a field

And ends in a feast,
The best farm to table story

Ever.

Supping as Proclamation II

We think of Communion,
That divisive sacrament,
As something

Ceremonious
(But also
Could it be
Sustenance?)

Commemorative, of the past
(But also
Could it be
Eschatological,
Looking at our present betrothal
And future wedding?)

Sacred, set apart
(But also
Could it be
Poured out for all,
Available?)

Traditional
(But also
Could it be
Counter-cultural, revolutionary,
The rich and the poor,
The Jew and the Greek
Feast
Together?)

Supping as Proclamation

When we want to meet God, we Christians … gather and break bread in Jesus’ name. That’s where he has chosen to meet us, that’s where our eyes are opened and we recognize him. We pray ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’ not just as a survival strategy; no matter how much bread we get, we shall not survive. In praying for daily bread we are praying for daily presence of God among us.

After a day of walking and teaching,
Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it,
And gave it to them.
Then their eyes were opened,
And they recognized him.

The King came not with an honor guard.
He did not command worship.

He taught. He blessed. He fed.
What kind of a backwards Kingdom is this?

Laundry

I stuck clean clothes in the dryer today
And remembered my friend,
Who, when Caleb was newborn and his diapers kept failing,
Took my laundry each week and listened for it
During community group.
I felt again the loss of her.

The Piano

I have longed for piano lessons for the boys.

One program never worked well.
I had visions of Chopin, and ended up with nothing.

One program taught chords,
But we never got beyond that, without music notation.

A friend mentioned an online course.
I watched the first one and almost cried.

Singing solfege.
A simple technique to train the fingers.

Boys who stayed up late and later
To practice singing, “Hot Cross Buns.”

The next day: posture.
Proper finger position. No one has ever mentioned this.

I woke up happy just thinking about it.
What a gift.

During a Business Call

The baby came in while I was on the phone,
And together we watched
A common five-lined skink
Slink along the window screen.
The beautiful blue tail
Shone in the sun, as it flipped with gravity,
As the skink traversed the screen again and again.

Hypocrite

A very large family
With a squeaky clean image
Suddenly found their façade terribly tarnished.

And I find myself, once again,
Shocked at the level of betrayal
Of all the professed beliefs,

Wondering how anyone can live
With such a guilty conscience.
Where is the fear of God?

And then I wonder:
Just what am I hiding?
As we all throw ourselves on the grace of God.

Reading Corner

Of all the expensive gifts that prove worthwhile,
I can think of few things that have offered
More enjoyment than the boxed set
Of Tintin books, now ragged after almost a decade of daily love.

Caleb is the current connoisseur.
He picks them up and sits on the brick hearth,
All by himself,
In his reading corner.

Perfectionism

My friend, a perfectionist,
Asked how I deal with that pressure.

I think I have made progress this year,
In learning to be okay with not being perfect,

So we talked about my journey.

Lucky me, I got to exercise this learning
When I burned our lunch,

And felt like I dropped every ball I was juggling
And wanted to do nothing but hide away.

Put into practice my journey.
Sometimes meals get burned. Move on.

So I boiled potatoes and did the next thing.
It wasn’t the perfect response, I suppose,

But it was good enough. And that is enough.

Communion

For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, That the Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread….

On Sunday, I was weepy all day.
I didn’t feel good,
And I took a long nap,
And I misspoke and frustrated Phil,
And he made me mad.

I had already been weepy
And now I was more weepy.
Even reconciliation leaves one
Wiped out.

Is it great to go to church
So completely drained of all that is
Life-giving and whole?

I sat there and heard
Two testimonies
Of friends in new places,
Opening up their homes
After the model they have received from us.

“I didn’t even know I liked
Hospitality, but now I have tried it,
And I do!”

Good, Good

On a day of stress,
An email from a friend,
With a song that she felt
She was supposed to send
To me.

“You’re a good, good father.
It’s who you are.”

I was so touched that she had thought of me,
So blessed to be reminded that I am not
The leader of the pack,
But merely a part of an interconnected body
Whose head is
Christ.

Soberly

The line of friends entering the church
Stretched down the block.
Some I hadn’t seen in some months,
And in my enthusiastic greeting,
I found myself rocked back
By the sober, measured responses.

It is hard to go soberly to a house of mourning
When beloved friends are also there,
When I wish to celebrate the ways God is at work
In their lives,
In all our lives.

Absurd

One of our dear friends stood up today
And said, “Of all the absurd things in my life,
This is the most absurd.
Who came up with this idea?

For me to stand here, eight days after the
Most
Devastating

Day
Of
My
Life….”

And then, after he had teared up a bit,
He spoke about the way

That Christ transformed his bride,
That his bride loved her family,
That his bride touched those around her.

That Christ’s power is made perfect in weakness.

Beautiful Daughter

I asked God about you the other day.
“Beautiful daughter” came to mind immediately.
“A beautiful daughter raising beautiful daughters.”

Yes, I thought. God knows the same one I do.

Miracles Following

One author wonders what it would be like
Really
If all our prayers were answered as we asked.

Would that not be a bit too magical,
A bit too little relational?

Way too disconcerting?

In one of my favorite fiction books,
A youth asks the gods to steal horses easily,
And when the horses step on the cobblestones,
There is no sound.

This makes the youth more terrified
Than if he hadn’t been the object of the gods’ attention,
And he hoped to divest himself of their scrutiny

Quickly.

If all our requests were instantly and miraculously answered …
How comfortable would that be,

Really.

Prayers, Unanswered

Strive together with me in your prayers to God on my behalf, that I may be delivered from the unbelievers in Judea, and that my service for Jerusalem may be acceptable to the saints, so that by God's will I may come to you with joy and be refreshed in your company.

Paul asked the Romans to pray for a few specific things.

He was not delivered from the unbelievers in Judea,
And did not make it to Spain, as he had hoped.

John tells us that if we ask according to God’s will, he hears us,
And if he hears us, we know that we have the petitions we asked.

Yet here is Paul, faithful, prophetic, mouthpiece of God,
Praying for fruitful ministry

And God says no.

We Two

When the five head out to judo practice,
Caleb and I head outside.

He attempted to shoot me with a water gun,
Grinning broadly and missing by a long shot.

We sat in the Gator, while he worked the pedals,
Pretended to press buttons, to shift.

A spider web distracted us.
Later, we watched a black and yellow argiope orb spider.

He sat on the tractor and pretended to drive,
Then climbed down and petted the cat. This, repeatedly.

He took my hand and pulled me up
So I could see the large yellow and black butterfly with him.

We picked an apple and ate it together,
Then strolled the orchard while he checked each tree’s label.

We felt the soil of the compost pile, the failed garden,
Checking the tilth. What could yet grow?

Finally, hours later, into the tub he went,
My young companion, my delightful distraction.

Five Months and a Day

Five years ago, a baby died.
My sister heard this story from the dad.

On the baby’s five month birthday,
He had vivid, unsettling dreams,
Including one of Elijah, taken up to heaven.

The next day, he told his baby daughter,
“If a man named Jesus comes to you,
Go with him. You can trust that man.”

Suddenly all the machines in the hospital stopped
And silence came.
No alarms.
Peace.

Their favorite nurse was on duty.
They bathed the body, free for the first time of tubes.

Jesus came to her,
And she went.

Called Out

Thanks so much for being the master of ceremonies at Melissa’s baby celebration yesterday. That is always my least favorite role in hosting a party. You did a superlative job of getting us all to go a little deeper and to share from our hearts. I really enjoyed the sweet time we all shared around the table and I loved that my girls got to witness it.

If I’m going to go to a party,
I want to make a deep connection.

If I’m going to host a party,
I want to do my best to make others connect.

For a shower, I want prayer;
I want to hear what God is doing.

I had not considered that to be anything special.
My friend’s compliment spurred me on to further hospitality.

Temporary

I told Phil this morning that I don't remember ever having a community where I felt like it was so thoroughly appropriate to me: intelligent, well-read, fun, full of life, real, grace-filled, following God despite difficulties.... I've had some of those in friends before, but not the whole package.

I've been through enough transitions that I know this is a temporary extra gift of grace, this side of heaven, but I hope I appreciate it to the uttermost before some or others move on. Thank you for providing space to make that gift happen.

Sunday, March 30, 2014:
Church, community group,
Dinner afterwards for a few.

We laughed so hard that night,
Lykoshes, DeLauras, Joseph Holm.
It remains in my memory as a gift of joy.

It never happened again,
Not like that.
I’m glad I appreciated it and said thank you when I did.

One of the Great Compliments of My Life

When I turned thirty-five,
My friend said,

I just realized that you are exactly twenty years younger than I am.
I have always thought of us as contemporaries.

Provision

Five years ago, a slender woman
With five older children showed up in church.

I chased her down the hall after service, calling,
“Homeschooling mother, wait!”

She waited for me.
We were friends.

I think now of her tenacious search for a church home,
Even after her husband had given up in despair,

So that now there is a church family to feed them,
To pray for them, to grieve with them.

This is not a provision anyone wants to make use of,
But it is a provision nonetheless.

Swallowed Up

For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked. For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened, because we do not want to be unclothed but to be clothed, so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life.

In the upside-down world of God’s kingdom,
A body that appears dead is, in actuality,

Swallowed up by

Life.

August 14

This morning I heard
That my friend is gone.

This evening I heard
That my cousin’s baby arrived.

The same day.
Death and birth.

Baby Hazel, born on the same day
As her great-great grandfather.

If my grandmother, age 94,
Was not yet living, would we have known?

Who now remembers the dead?

Sabbath Commences

As the sun sets on this work week,
I think back to the last Sabbath.

I sat in a hospital room with my friend.
She was awake only briefly.

We made eye contact for a moment.
That will not happen again.

Surprise

I have had no doubt that healing is coming.
Whether in the flesh or in the Lord,
Death is defeated.

And yet I confess that I am surprised.
I was expecting in the flesh.

Unkind

I count the little beauties.

One daughter said goodbye
The last night her mother was alert.

Two friends who had been away
Visited that night as well.

A church body brings meals
For the foreseeable future.

Friends and family even now
Gathering.

A community given a week
To say goodbye.

I rage against the whole.

The hundred days and more of anguish,
For the ill and the remaining.

The hospital, new and bright though it may be,
Rather than a home.

The bludgeon of the entirety,
Rather than a caress.

Sunset

I read a book about the process of dying.
The oxygen rate diminishes.
The kidneys and liver shut down.
The body swells as unfiltered toxins stagnate.
Breathing slows and grows shallow.

As birth has a recognizable rhythm, with variation,
Even so death.

My friend sleeps now,
Without REM, without flinching.
Her skeletal arms are swollen,
Her feet puffy.

I sat in silence with her for a time,
Then put my hands on her feet,
And prayed the prayer of blessing
That my dad prayed over us nightly,

That I sing over every guest as they depart.

Four Thanksgivings

First: two family friends joined
The two families assembled.
We spoke of prophecies,
Given and yet unfulfilled.

Second: two families assembled.
That year Abraham tried butternut squash
And had to excuse himself from the table
To spit it out.
Karen came out, briefly, and I talked to her
About her dry mouth, about books.
She died a month later.

Third: two families assembled,
Plus Stewart and Kellie, dating (now married),
And our friend James, of the good stories.
We had just moved in to our new space,
We had a little baby,
And Phil cracked his ribs on his way home.

Fourth: two families assembled,
And a whole slew of others.
Two full tables, plus one for the little boys.
So many friends to share joy.

The Cup

And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as you will.

As I sat in the hospital lobby,
My Bible reading fell to
The Garden of Gethsemane
And the crucifixion.

It seemed fitting.

And I thought about the promise
That signs would accompany those who believe:
“They will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.”

The resurrected Christ said this,
Even after he prayed and has his request
Not granted.

Mary Time

In the last eleven days,
Seven times have I have driven the hour to town.
This is (thankfully) unusual.

These drives have been alone,
Or with one silent and dozing son.

That has been a lot of silent time to pray.
A lot of time to think and consider.
It has felt rich and restful,

As I work through the sadness that comes with
Bearing one another’s burdens.
I sit and listen to Jesus.

An Analogy

As I sat in peaceful silence with my sleeping friend,
A third joined us and woke the sleeper,
Unintentionally, I’m sure.

Three was too many in the room,
So I retired to the lobby,
Determined to get in my prayer and scripture.

Sometime later, the third left,
But I stayed in the lobby,
Uncertain whether to return to my tired friend.

In the end, I stayed where I was,
And I remain uncertain if that was correct,
But that feels like a right analogy of the entire situation:

Sometimes there isn’t a right answer.

No More Hiding

When my face turns red and spotty,
My wish has been to hide at home.

I wonder today, as I face the world
Flaring, but not caring,

If that is part of the healing God has:
Less concern for my exterior.

Rosacea

I know there are needs around me.
I went to an assembly to pray. If there was healing
For my face, I would not mind.

One man had a word of knowledge
That God wants to heal someone
With rosacea, on the cheeks and nose.

This has been my embarrassment
These six months now,
Since a Lenten diet change
Triggered a disfigured face.

I suspect there are several allergies at play,
Though I have confirmed none:
Coconut, almond, carrot, honey.

I was prayed for.
Ever since, I have been flaring.
I have also, by accident or design,
Eaten almost all my trigger foods since then.

But as I prayed about this not yet healing,
The thought came that perhaps
My liver, my digestion, needs a fix,
And so I visited my local natural foods store.

If the liver cleanse fixes my face,
God still gets the glory.

There Comes a Time

My friend rests quietly,
Her legs more swollen today than yesterday,
Sleeping, or sinking into sleep,
Readily.

I read a book about the process of dying.
I know what happens as the body shuts down.
It looks like
This.

There isn’t anything that I can do.
So I sit with her in silence,
And watch her breathe,
And ask God to be with her
This day,
Every day,
However many she has left on this earth.

A Warrior

I have a son who is a warrior.
My friend has never met him,
But she prayed for him.

He is creative, an out-of-the-box thinker,
A mass of energy,
Hospitable to visitors.

All of these things are true,
And words I would have used myself.
It encouraged me both

That she could prophetically describe Isaiah so well
And that I know him well enough
That my description matches God’s.

Conflicted

“Enjoy that boy of yours on his special day.”
These words penetrated.

After strawberry shortcake for breakfast,
I made the wished-for cake,

A unique but described creation
Of chocolate, with a square of cream cheese frosting in the middle.

Then I left for a time of worship and teaching and prayer
And knew that the evening would have a party,

Not a birthday party but a larger friend party.
As I worshipped, I asked God if I should go home,

If I was neglecting my duties as a good mother,
If I needed to turn my heart towards home.

And the answer I think I got was that I was in the right place at that time,
But that spending time with my sons will increase in priority.

An Analogy for Healing

Sometimes hotel room key cards
Don’t work the first time.
Maybe they do nothing,
Or they blink red.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again
And expecting different results.

And yet it’s not insane.
Because sometimes the key doesn’t work
Until it does.

The young healing minister used that
As an analogy of prayer.

If it doesn’t work the first time,
Keep trying.

Departure/Arrival

I extricated my baby
From his sobbing grip
And left the house.

When I returned,
He cried, “Mama mama!”
And clapped as he ran to me.

Healing

A mother took her deaf adopted daughter
To a healing workshop. Nothing happened.

When the second healing workshop came,
She hesitated, but went anyway.

The healer listened and prayed
That the girl’s inner hurts would be soothed.

This was not the reason they came,
But as the girl’s demeanor changed,

The mother knew that prayer was answered,
And her grief was changed to joy.

But the girl’s hearing was not restored.
So, I ask you: was she healed?

Ethical Question

Years ago, a man told a story about his daughter,
Who was asked, in a class,
Whether she would tear the wings off a butterfly
For a trip to Europe.

Apparently, these are the pressing questions that need answering.

The man thanked God that he had reached a place on his spiritual journey
That he wouldn’t do it.

Years later, I am still unwilling to consider this question honestly,
Preferring to judge the question for its ridiculousness
From the real world of fly swatters and temporal insects.

But I confess a certain sorrow
As I caught a glimpse of flitting yellow through the windshield
A split second before a smatter of yellow dust was all that remained.

Waiting

Not a bad word necessarily.
Though we may think of

Waiting rooms
And bureaucracy,

Pregnant people also are
Waiting for new life

With hope
With joy and expectation.

Who Lives on the Holy Hill?

I was not thinking of much,
Singing along with the Psalm playing,
When I had a moment of surprise conviction.

O LORD, who shall sojourn in your tent?
Who shall dwell on your holy hill?
He who walks blamelessly and does what is right
And speaks truth in his heart;
Who does not slander with his tongue
And does no evil to his neighbor,
Nor takes up a reproach against his friend.

If it was up to me or you,
There would be only one
Who lives on the holy hill.

I take his righteousness,
The truth he speaks from his heart,
And put it on, that I, too, may live on the holy hill.

Giggle of Glee

My son, waiting for his birthday,
Found it hard to settle down to sleep.

Midnight came and went, and still
He chattered and fidgeted.

Phil called him to come. Since the date had changed,
Phil wished him a happy birthday.

“Wow!” said my son. “I can’t believe
That I stayed up all night!”

And he giggled with glee that
His birthday had arrived so easily.

In the Hospital

This new hospital is like a hotel:
Great lighting, nice trim around each door,
Beautiful, bright colored art all the way down the long hall.

I was cheerful when I started this walk down the hallway,
A bit nervous to see my friend again,
Uncertain what I would find.

And suddenly I was overwhelmed
That my friends have made a similar walk
Every day for three months.

A retreat center has the feel of
Accumulated prayers and worship,
A feel of rest and God’s presence.

A hospital has the feel of
Accumulated trauma,
A feel of fear and distress.

By the end of the hallway,
I was almost in tears.
My friend wasn’t quite ready for visitors.

I had fifteen minutes to compose myself.
To read and write and re-center.
And then I went in.

Your Face

For to see your face is like seeing the face of God.

I had not thought, truly,
That I would see you again.

And I love you enough that I had peace about that.
I prayed that you would go with God.

So it was a gift to me to see your face again,
Even though you turned away in distress.

Kinsman-Redeemer

In a world of broken relationships,
Of bondage and grief and debt,

Comes the agency of the
Closest blood relative,

Offering freedom and hope and payment,
Offering protection and succor.

We have a kinsman-redeemer who does all this,
Our older brother, Jesus.

In the Midst of a Celebration

I found out that a friend, divorced last year,
Had his girlfriend move in a few months later.
I absorbed this news and enjoyed the party,
But as I drove home, I was deeply troubled.

This was a new kind of grief,
Where I felt such compassion for his almost two decades
Of challenging marriage, for the deep hurt
That would drive a person to pursue a life

In contradiction to his professed former beliefs.
I grieved for his parents, his children. I groaned to God.
This felt like the right response,
As I drove home through the sunlit green trees.

Communion

Although we don’t believe
The wine literally becomes blood,

To say that it is “just a symbol”
Sells the symbol short.

A symbol has meaning.
It represents something. It exists.

Between the poles of
Literal and nothing,

I choose a third way,
That of mystery and something.

Could Not Compute

This week I suddenly remembered
Our first year here,
Our first accident, when
A 35 pound weight, driven full force,
Rebounded and hit Phil in the head.

Blood, concussion, cries of,
“Why didn’t you come when I called?”
My anguished response:
“I didn’t hear you!”

I had asked for protection for our family, our farm,
Every day.
That day I had wondered if I treated this prayer as a mantra,
More a magic charm than an earnest request.
And what if I missed a day?

I already deal with issues with being perfect!

The idea that, through my oversight,
One day of imperfection,
I might cause the injury of those I love
Or maybe death …
That could not compute.

I did not ask for that kind of pressure.
I could not handle the idea of that level of
Malicious resistance.

I quit praying.

Almost six years later, that memory resurfaced.
Still painful, still confusing.

Jesus, what do you have to say to my confusion and pain?

It is not your responsibility, nor ability, to keep your family safe.
God’s purposes go forward.
There wasn’t someone there to help you process your confusion.
It is not your fault.

Waiting

A friend is estranged from his parents.
They will see each other face to face
Soon.

As a mother, I think about that mother,
Waiting to see the face of her son
Again.

I hope she will be glad to see his face.
I hope that God will be present
There.

A Gift

If you have a friend you can

Talk with
Cry with
Pray with
Laugh with

Count yourself blessed.

Two Flashlights

If I turned on two flashlights
And pressed their lenses together,
The world would not be brighter,
Since all the light from those two
Would be turned inward.

The world needs more light.

If you have light, shed it abroad.

Berry Tarts

An elderly guest lost his way trying to find jam tarts.
My friend drove him where he needed to go.

“I’m done with school and not sure what I’m doing next.”
“What is God telling you to do?”

“I think he’s telling me to stay where I am.”
“I think God is telling me that he’ll bless your house.”

My friend is moving into an underprivileged neighborhood,
In an act of intentional community and risk.

The elderly guest knew none of that.
Paul says: Despise not prophesyings.

We receive this word with joy.

Siblings

And call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven.

In context, Jesus’ followers
Were to avoid language of
Rabbi, Father, Master.

In our little enclave of followers,
I have thought of myself as a mother.
This is wrong.

Better to think of myself as a sister,
Maybe an older sister,
For we are all children.

I mentally recalibrate
Appropriate responsibility.
God is a better parent.