whole

I always wonder

As I start my day

If I will return home

As complete as I leave it?

Not that I'm whole to begin with;

But "will Life's Reductions

Be in large enough chunks to notice in these hours away,

Or so gradual that it takes years to notice I've changed?"

And, upon arriving again,

There's always a gratefulness

When I enter in one piece

(But not whole)

And I wonder why "wholeness" is associated

with "home" being its receptical,

And if it were fair to say that one can break as easily at home as anywhere...

But at least strangers aren't ogling the process.

Hurtling

 It wasn't the easiest drive:

Rain drops and car-shaking wind

More traffic than sometimes.

The suspense of the building storm,

But the spider was still casually

Crawling up the inside of my windshield.

And I wondered if she could sense

The thinness of the glass

Separating her nonchalance

From her hurtling through space.

My thoughts didn't impede her acrobatics.

Her nimble feet tapped and assessed each step.

I tried to focus on the road:

Wind gusts and big trucks and a long day at work,

But I felt like a different kind of spider

Hurtling through space

With an atmospheric "windshield"

Around my rock planet,

And mostly oblivious to the complex glory

Beyond each mundane struggle.

All at once, the spider dropped.

Her graceful limbs poised, silky rappelling apparatus reliable 

When the windshield got too slick.

She didn't panic.

And you, my dear, are part of my thread:

Connection to broader reality

When my struggle gets too intense.

I let the spider stay

And wished her well.

Corners

It's a definite corner:

When you turn from obsession

To a more altruistic caring.

From the black hole of need

To wanting to give too.

When alone,

we wilt.

When socially overwhelmed,

We suffocate.

Surely there's an equilibrium to be found in:

Caring too much

Wanting too much

Feeling too much

Withholding the wrong things

from the right people,

And vice versa?

So many corners to turn

And we inevitably walk in squares,

Learning the same lessons perpetually

But maybe in a widening scope.

Mother's Day

To all in life

Who have nurtured me:

Shown undeserved grace,

Taught gentleness by example,

Given space to learn in safety,

I honor you.

To those who have nourished

Spiritual, emotional and physical growth,

With prayers, hugs, and meals,

I appreciate you.

For all who have shown me

True beauty and resilience:

Smiling through pain,

Persevering through difficulty,

Fighting through discrimination,

I respect you.

But to those who have loved me

Through my ugly brokenness,

And reminded me that it was only

The small part of a bigger story;

Those who give me hope,

I cherish you.

Happy Mother's Day!

Fumbled Compliments

Your words: a beautiful gift

Sparkling, rare, and gold.

My hands were slick with disbelief

And couldn't find a hold.

The fumbled words lay all around

Ashamed, I tried to fix

Them back into the beauty of

What was fantastic.

And now in solitude I know

They carry the same weight;

Their beauty undiminished

By my lack of inner faith,

And highlight You, the giver,

Of these selfless compliments.

They will be in my treasure box

For future accidents.

A Prayer for my Children

Lord, grant wisdom to protect from evil;

And love enough

to protect them from myself.

Grant me joy, to teach them overcoming;

And gentleness,

for them to love themselves.

Forgiveness, so they know,

Though sin affects us,

Grace can affect us more if we will grow.

Trust, so that 

even when the world shakes, 

They know the safest place is still Your hold.

And when they're grown and 

All my flaws apparent,

And faced with the flawed nature of their own,

May the God who held me up

Through all of my life,

Be real enough to them to be their home.

Buscamos una Vida

Buscamos una vida

Llena de luz, y amor;

La paz, y relaciones

Para sobrevivir el temor.

Pero nos encontramos

En una vida de verdad

En que la lucha eterna

Nos hala hacia la libertad.

No es la falta de lucha

Que significa el éxito:

Mas, la presencia del temor

Y el seguir adelante con eso.

Son las relaciones 

Que superan los miedos.

Son las luchas transformadoras

Que nos hacen guerreros.

Instinct and Redemption

We are comfort-seeking creatures

Who need purpose for our pain.

We make the tangible an addiction

If our emptiness remains,

Always seeking connection, but

Prone to webs of deceit.

Mostly wanting safety, yet

We let the past repeat.

How deliberate we have to be

To not slide down the trail

Our nature has laid out for us;

That we're born knowing well...

But redemption is possible

If our Maker has His way

And pulls us from instinctual lows

Up to His higher grace.

The Whole World Does the Same

The whole world does the same:

Each one thinks they're special;

Stuck in an individuality bubble

We think no one has preceded.

Spoiled brats! The lot of us.

Inclined to the black hole

Of self and insolence...

Until our bubble broken,

Cage rattled enough

To force our gaze outward

And upward.

Two Gratitudes

The "gratitude" that springs up out of fear

Brandished wild at God to "ward off loss"

Immature, not seeing His picture

And grasping our own way at any cost.

Humility begins with different roots

Knowing what we actually deserve

Gratitude and trust become the fruit

Of knowing He is good in spite of us.

Lo Que Reconoce el Espíritu

Hay cosas que reconoce

El espíritu de un hombre

Que no reconoce el cerebro.

La intersección entre la visión y el arte;

Las cosas que no puedes describir bien

Pero puedes sentir, si prestes atención.

Cómo la primera vez de 

Entrar un catedral enorme,

Y oír los ecos de cien años de adoración.

O al mirar las estrellas

Después de mucho tiempo en la ciudad brillante

Y notar cuan pequeño eres.

Quizás al abrazar un milagrito

Recién nacido y todavía iluminado

Con el espíritu de Dios de dónde viene.

Los momentos que nos quitan

La abilidad de respirar, 

o tener pensamientos completos:

En qué relacionamos con el alrededor

En un manera más profunda

Que puede comprender el cerebro.

Memorials

The world doesn't stop

For beauty or pain

We have to build our own shrines

And hope that is enough.

We can't stop the whirling march,

But we can transform our perception of it

With our stacks of stones

Anchoring miracles in time.

The only transcendence of time

Is spiritual.

(If you can't break a rule,

Find something that isn't bound by it.)

Memorials;

Stacks of prayers built over time,

Tears mounted up in bottles.

Equally as intangible as the beauty or pain that put them there.

The gift of the listener

You held my heart with careful hands.

The truth, through plaster cracked,

Came seeping out in tear-shaped drops.

You listened with respect.

And when the tale was told at last,

"God give peace" you murmured

And gently placed my heart again

 in the hands of His of power.

And that is when I knew at last,

  the same gift would be yours.

wind-up dragon

wind-up dragon in my chest

Growling out scorching fire,

Blackening hope

Until, in panic, I can't breathe.

Your fingers crank the 

click-click-click

Of a little plastic motor

Fueled by the anger you unleash...

Until SNAP!

I'm no longer controlled.

The wind-up dragon:

A dusty relic of nightmares

I have conquered.

Word Treasures

Your words: a beautiful gift

Sparkling, rare, and gold.

My hands were slick with disbelief

And couldn't find a hold.

The fumbled words lay all around

Ashamed, I tried to fix

Them back into the beauty of

What was fantastic.

And now in solitude I know

They carry the same weight;

Their beauty undiminished

By my lack of inner faith,

And highlight You, the giver,

Of these selfless compliments.

They will be in my treasure box

For future accidents.

Safety and Surrender

Safety and surrender

Swirl in my head

Like the leaves the wind twirls in front of me.

Why is it hard to raise hands of surrender when I don't feel safe?

Because I don't feel in control?

The wind moves where it wants.

The trees release leaves in God's patterns.

What do I actually control?

It's an illusion.

Our control is non-existent; 

safety just consistent, sustaining Grace, purposefully provided.

Rather,

We are surrounded by a loving God's goodness so much,

We feel like our own power manifested 

the good things we desired,

But He knows the desires of our hearts.

Swirling stills

Truth stares me in the face:

The only control I actually have

Is to choose surrender,

Or to believe the lie that I have control to begin with.

The one gift I can offer

Is my whole self.

Muddy Miracle

I was parched,

A cracking desert

Before your love rained on me-

And honestly,

The first drops made a mess

As self-will and sin and Grace

Merged in a muddy miracle...

But You didn't stop

And I didn't stop wanting Your presence,

And mud puddles

Eventually became a spring of living water,

Hope filling every crack

And the fullness

Forcing my gaze outward

To other dry lands;

Your blessings dripping out of my hands

And filling parched places

Who choose You.

My heart is full

And thankful.