Tag Archives: poem

We Woke Up

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It’s not (technically) spring yet,
but the first warm days arrived this weekend,
and northerners weary with winter
woke up.

We trimmed shrubs and pulled weeds,
started lawn mowers and plunged trowels into the warming earth.
We went to parks all over town
with our kids and dogs and blankets and guitars,
and we sang and walked and let the sun massage vitamin D and peace into our faces.
We picked daffodils,
chose outdoor seating at coffee shops,
and skipped church.
Even the odd ones who don’t care for sunshine came stiffly out,
and antique cars shook off dust for the first drive of the year.

Love is in the air—turkeys strutting, people kissing, dogs sniffing, squirrels flirting.
The earth is pulsing alive and we feel the anticipation—
joy radiates from crocus blossoms and forsythia.
Hope again surprises us with its quiet turn from black-and-white to color—
paintbrush poised to anoint fields and forests and gardens with life.

As we bask in today
we take a collective deep breath; we’re okay.
The sun and soil are alive; all will be well.

New Love, or Old?

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Are babies new,
Or just recycled?
Does baptism make
A person new?
The Bible says
God’s mercies are
New every morning.
What is a
New mercy like?
How’s it different
From old mercy?
What is better—
New love, or
Old, wrinkled love?

Today, they say, begins
A new year.
It doesn’t feel
New to me.
My kids are older
And I’m older
And the world is older
And this feels
More like a “keep going” than
A “start fresh.”
But that’s okay.
I don’t need
To be a baby again.
With age comes
Wisdom, and it is the adding of
All my years
That tells me I can
Do this year.
I’ve done 38 years before,
And I know
I don’t need new resolutions
As much as
I need old love.

Savior Lullaby

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Birth

A babe in womb,
And His name shall be called Emmanuel:
God with us.
News and light to shepherds on a hill.

They found the Light swaddled tight,
In a cradle full of hay.
They left their sheep, to watch Him sleep,
Miracle and mess all mingled there.

What was the Father God feeling on that night?
How did Holy Spirit fill a newborn life?
Where did Mary find the strength to birth a God?
And did Joseph tire of the whispers: “Isn’t it odd?”

Born at night like billions of babies.
And born to be a light like none had seen.
He cried and nursed like ordinary babies,
While the angels sang a Savior lullaby.

Death

God poured out,
Blood and water streaming from His side,
As it turns out,
The babe-in-hay’s destiny’s to die.

Up all night, questioned, tried,
The subject of contempt,
He was alone, weary to the bone,
Love was bleeding, not retreating scared.

What was the Father God feeling on that night?
How did Holy Spirit fill an ebbing life?
Where did Mary find the strength to watch Him cry?
Forsaken, Jesus shouted, “Why, God? Why?”

He held His arms wide open, not by choice.
He let his soul be overcome by love.
Widows wept while evil men rejoiced,
And the angels sang a Savior lullaby.

Note: this can be sung to the tune of Brad Paisley’s song, “Whiskey Lullaby”

Indian Giver

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“For better or worse,” I said

And pledged myself to one man.

Then I went about creating better

By making him follow my plan.

 

Placing all my hopes in prince charming

I suddenly felt all alone.

I was focused on him and me

And had removed God from His throne.

 

To be a wife is impossible;

I can’t change him – or me – enough.

To trust in each other is foolhardy;

So one day God called my bluff.

 

The Truth brings clarity,

And when I could finally see,

I gave my husband back to God,

And God gave him back to me.