Come with me friend, I’ll motion and sign. I’ll walk slow and if you need to stop I’ll take the time.
You are not a well-oiled machine. You're a body with heart disease weak in the limbs and dim in the eyes. You're forgetful, and yet time and time again you look to the One who loves you with his life. You lift your head, revive your heart, strengthen your limp arms and take another step… Continue reading Church
You've been my one since that day in the car when I was trying to teach you the things Jesus taught me at 16. And then we got married. And, when I was hungry for a feast, where the good news is served like roast beef and potatoes, and the bread and wine are broken… Continue reading When they asked who’s my one
Rachel Joy Welcher, a writer and poet I follow, opened a group on Facebook through Lent exploring poems from her book Two Funerals, Then Easter and giving poetry prompts. Below is one I shared today after reading Rachel's poem "Communion". A sermon to myself on the way to the table In as much as I… Continue reading A sermon to myself on the way to the table
(Image Credit) It's a small army I see two or three days a week. While it's dark and cold we march in uniform, feet shod with shoes ready to keep a steady clip for the next thirteen hours. The building we raid looms tall and overwhelming, pregnant with arrhythmias calls for help to the bathroom… Continue reading Bedside nurse
If I had to grow food out of a garden with soil as hard as your heart and weeds as noxious as your anger I'd starve. You aren't my garden, I know I can't till your soil I can't make you receive the seed. Some days I feel like I'm fighting dandelion weed everywhere and… Continue reading Weary
I don't want to be a cynic, but I really can't stand Valentine's Day. It's really not cause I'm bitter, although I have gone through many a pink-splattered Valentine's day with a broken heart, mascara-tear stained face and no one sending me flowers. By the grace of God, there is no bitter root, just painful… Continue reading Love is not a pink teddy bear
You look like a captive, a kidnapped woman with a black cloth tied, covering your eyes. You look scared. I can see your mouth, your face turned away trying to hide from what you cannot see. You look hopeless. But I know your pattern. I know this cycle you go through- phases of light shining… Continue reading A phase of the waiting bride
How long, O Lord? How long must I watch as the seed I just planted is picked at and analyzed by the one who should be watering it? How long until this ache I keep assessing for signs of real cardiac pain, not the other heart that's aching in me, stops fibrilating and starts resting… Continue reading Psalm 13
Your round face laughed today The earth not in the way I grinned forgetting the weeks behind When I saw the world and Forgot you were alive Tonight your face is cut in half Now down to a sliver The blinking electricity of this planet Promising to deliver Your grey glow on my cold face… Continue reading Your face looks like Sarah
Bitter old woman Cowardly elder man Skeptical, empowered Misses Lonely, not-sure-if-he's-a-Mister Hardened party-girl Driven, young millionaire Homeless, enslaved to heroine Lost and scared teen- baby on the way All the poor, broken, forgotten. All the crippled, drooling, loud, misunderstood. All the liars the thieves the betrayers the deceived. Jesus came for you.
