Listening to Fools

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.

It is easy to read my weekly news magazine,
With its glossy pages and interesting tidbits.
It projects urbanity and intellect,
And I appreciate the wide reach of information.

And yet, I wonder at the cost.
Their assumption is that only fools would believe
Those old myths;
That my view of the world is the purview of hate-mongers.

But if I have the words of life;
If my God can raise people from the dead,
And alone offers restoration and forgiveness and truth:
Just who here is the fool?

On Your 28th Birthday

Last year on this date,
My hope for you was that you would know
A little bit of your worth, your value,
Not just to me, but to all of us,
Your friends and family.

And even last year, I knew that
I wouldn’t need to repeat that effort,
That this year you would be in a different place.
I had hope for good things for you.
And that hope has come to pass.

And you sat on my couch
And again we talked about everything:
The little stories of those we love
And the things we love: God and worship
And people. And I was so deeply glad.

Almost a Teenager

When asked about whether he thought
He would feel any different on his upcoming birthday,
The one that will propel him from childhood, my son said:

I will get acne
And become sullen
And angsty.
My voice will change and
I will grow tall
And develop urges.

And my friend who asked
Thought, well, there’s nothing wrong with
His wit and sense of humor.

New Clothes

The brothers got a box
With new swim trunks, new shirts.
Caleb watched the brothers carry theirs away.

And then he stepped up and took his,
Chest thrust out,
So proud to be a big boy,

Carrying his clothes.

Hummingbird Feeder

One of the last things
Before the fracture:
Phil hung my hummingbird feeder.

It might need to be a little lower for perfect viewing,
But as it is, I sat through the afternoon,
Visiting with a friend,

And watching the ruby-throated beauties
Come and go. So tiny, so speedy;
Such a privilege for them to come to visit.

Be Anxious for Nothing

I organized a small assembly
To sing of the Holy Spirit
And share the ways the Spirit works.
Beautiful, the things shared.

But one song I had misprinted,
A beautiful song that so few knew,
And so what should have been lovely
Was embarrassing.

And of all the evening,
That’s what I remember.
I needed this reminder:
Be anxious for nothing—

Not even your failures.

Light Bulb

Once Phil was away a week
And came back to two burned out bulbs.
Perhaps the small things fall apart
To remind wives of the ways husbands help.

The day after we realized Phil broke his leg,
I wondered desultorily
How long
Before a light bulb burned out.

One burned out that evening.

Three days later, a second bulb burned out,
And took with it: the ceiling fan.
It might be a long summer.