Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Back Again

I'm back again searching with wonder and aim
Please God, don't let this be just an endless game
Not a ruse, not a lesson, not a fragmented part
Be the guide for my steps and the keeper of my heart.
Work all things together with your perfect will
So that someday soon I'll find the blessing I'm missing still.

Alone again, in search of that friend.
Why for all of my trying do results come to an end?

Part of me feels empty, another just jaded.
Will I find what I seek before all desire has faded?

The more time goes on, the more it seems
That fulfilling these dreams will never be seen.

So back again at the drawing board of contemplation,
Help me to truly ponder here without consternation
Which qualities I want, and which I require
What really matters in life and what only seems dire

Be not only my guide, but also my friend
Because, Jesus, my hopes are frayed and nearing their end.
Be my reason for being and my joy in the morning.
Be the wind in my sails and my companion in journey.

So when doubt and loneliness are back in full force
Send them scurrying off with Your thundering voice.

Meet my heart at these crossroads where disillusionment beckons and calls
Entreat me into your presence in lieu of some emotional pitfall.
Be the Lord of my life and the Lord of my heart
Who sets me aside in holiness without tearing me apart.

Transition Space

Waiting and wondering, then age slows me down
I finally move near enough to wear God's crown
His fitful young princess is beginning to see
The fully wise call in His ways for me

Still not knowing even half of His spiritual matters
He invites me to try despite all the rattles
Of my heart just emerging to make Him my home
Even here in transition-space He calls me His own

He sticks close beside me even when I run free
Unwittingly stepping away from His caring for me
He knows and still loves all my sticky, dark places
He's not even put off when my brokenness shadows over faces

He loves me in all things and conditions unpleasant
He just has more for me than the life of a peasant
His daughter, redeemed, His precious little one
If only I allow Him He makes life become
So carefree and boundless, other-focused I become
A daughter of the king with brokenness undone

Friday, November 02, 2007

Think About How To Love the Poor

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Left to My Own Devices I'm a Wreck

I don't know what to hope for next
My heart grows tired, and my mind is perplexed.

Too frequently dreams and passions postponed
And now, I'm not sure which path to condone.

High-end singleness is way over rated.
It makes me feel empty and my perspective gets jaded.

Low-end humility fills me with fear:
For lack of ambition will I get stuck here?

From one extreme to the other my heart is tossed.
It feels so lonely when one's heart gets lost.

Old dreams so dear seem no longer to fit.
New dreams feel baseless and are easily pitched.

So how do I find a lasting home for my heart
with a respite of peace that won't tear me apart?

The dissonance of longing versus acceptance: so tense.
In looking for order I erect pretense.

In fear of not finding that which I long for
discontentment rises up with lament and bore.

Then critical sharpness begins to cut;
and, life falls to ruins - my own homemade rut.

So how do I refocus the eyes of my heart
on God's plan for my life to be set apart,

Living in joy; and, focused on Him;
not fitfully tossed by my every whim?

I need new perspective and posture in life
to engage with life's fullness and overlook strife.

So whenever I blame shift and dwell on what's not,
please God, open my eyes to see what I've got:

Opportunities rich, and time ready to bear
all of the things on which I choose to cast my cares.

Perspective often seems such a small little matter
but, oh, when off course, it creates so much clatter!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Soups in the City by Socks and Gloves

The Socks and Gloves homeless outreach group is starting to gather food, warm clothing and sleeping bags for their Soups in the City outreach next month. Check it out here.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Little One

In the hard spot of a stony path
After a season that seemed so fraught with wrath
A little sunshine did become
A light unto this little one

Most thought nothing could grow in this place
Where hard knocks of life hit right on the the face
And yet with doses of morning sun
Growth came to this little one

At first with fear she beheld the grandeur
Of little flowers peeking up to pander
For a gaze at the beauty that had become
A fruit from in this little one

Her fear of pruning did soon subside
In time flowers spread across the hillside
To show the village that however much undone
Jesus had refilled this little one

Where once there were doubt and rejection near
His love had set her in the clear
Still stony were the rocks among
The flowers of this little one

Yet despite the stones along the way
Or the dreams of life cast to the fray
Perseverance had with fruit become
The sweetness o'er this little one

Though small, still lovely with fragrance rich
The doubt and greed had all been pitched
More humble had the heart become of this precious little one

She'd learned the gentle tone and tamber
Of listening to His voice - not clamor
Her cares and fears had to Him been flung
And He now cares for this little one

The place at first so hard and stony
Had turned into a sanctimony
Where He kept her heart and dashed her fear
And left her grinning ear to ear.

He who knew her had and did now own
Her heart as place to call His home
Much calmer now she had become
A protected child - His Little One

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Seeds of Life

It seems so dark - a lot like death
I work so hard I can't catch my breath

Does it make a difference, does anyone care
Is all this energy getting me anywhere

The night seems long, the future bleak
My "potential greatness" seems to have peaked

Now my shell gets tattered & cracked here and there
I am forcibly humbled; but, no one seems to care

Covered with dirt & wet from the rain
"Get over yourself" seems the constant refrain

Mushy & pudgy, bloated and bent
I'm trying, but, Gosh! Is this a life well spent?

Now ideals abandoned , practical I become
Somewhat less attractive, but remembering where I'm from

Now the mush pours out - my insides - like water
But with my insides out, I become the fodder
For new life to spring up for all to see
For that's who I am truly called to be...

Remember, I'm a seed; so when my life's well spent
My life's long since to another been lent

So my key aim in helping others become
The best version of themselves is far from dumb

For as this seed dies & starts to decompose
A new plant springs up for others to behold

The Kite

Wind blown and frayed

My heart is dismayed

After years waiting for flight

My Heart is the kite

The kite string so tangled

In the wind my heart dangles

Just knotted and stuck

All my goals run a muck

Dangles, flaps, spins and twists

I'm made for the air and know what I miss

The glory of freedom to sail high above

But this kite does not fly on the wings of true love

Isolated instead I grow winsome and dusty

Where my supports once were supple

They're now growing crusty

I've grown brittle, and fickle, my heart is forelorn

In all of my waiting my heart fills with scorn

Though made for the air, I fail to see

how my lovelorn lament changes who I can be

Without knowing or trying I push others away

So wrapped up in hurt and a sense of dismay

All kites need a runner to take to the air

But to run this old kite none would dare

It's knotted, tangled, brittle and old

This kite won't catch air, but it's never told

So wondering, "Why?" & "How?" and mostly just, "When?"

This measly kite looks for love again

It's dowels are cracked, bent, & showing general wear

It's silk is sun scorched and starting to tear

It once was so supple with colors so bold

Now it's a mess looking tattered and old

So long has it waited for enough of a wind

That it could not see how these choices would end

In a crumpled heap of kite dismay

Too tangled to flap in the wind any day

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Abandonded Tomatos

One week ago today I noticed that a tomato plant had mysteriously shown up on my doorstep. Poor plant. Admittedly, the plant could have been there longer than that without my noticing it; but that's at least when I noticed it for the first time.

For reasons related to recent plant death, I have a personal thing to make a point out of not trying to keep plants alive right now. I would have thought this a cruel joke, except I hadn't told anyone about my new-found (and probably temporary) plant abstinence. So, despite the handwritten sign with the plant which read, "Adopt me Please!?" the plant had no hope of becoming anything more than a languishing heap on my doorstep. I have decided that I will do nothing to keep it alive. I offered it to my neighbor Tatiyana, who I thought had agreed to add it to her thriving garden in our backyard; but, alas her broken Russian appears to have prevented her comprehension that I accept no ownership of it.

So, if the person projecting tomato tending my way is reading this, feel free to take your hope for a fruitful botanical to a better home, since as of yet, this poor plant is just as much of an orphan as when you left it on my street last week.