Mama

Mama shows her children all that’s good and ugly in the world. 

She lets them know if they are blessing or curse.

Mama gives her love

And children’s hearts blossom,

Tall, like a spring lily.

Grace upon Grace.

Or, if she withholds,

What bitterness grows in dry, parched hearts? 

Thorny and stumped.

Will these wee ones dig deep and bloom to love? 

Or shoot shallow roots toward earthly things? 

Will they make beauty or war? 

Mama makes everything lovely and warm.

Makes you believe in the best kind of magic.

She says sorry. 

Tucks you in, just so. 

Her singing, like an angel.

Or Mama tells you the world is hard and cruel.

You must toughen up.

She says “stop that nonsense.”

Heroes and villains, once helpless in a cradle, looked up for Mama’s gaze, reaching out for her embrace.

Mama shapes the hearts of the monk and the minister, the dictator and the teacher. 

The artist and the atheist.

She is baby’s first window into the heart of God. 

Something Beautiful

 

There's nothing more beautiful than knowing and being yourself. It may be harder to do that these days, but still well worth the effort of tuning out the noise and tuning into what is at work in your own spirit. 

One of the many things I love about Eden (well both of my kids, really) is that she KNOWS herself. 

Her values, boundaries, and the ways she wants to embody creative self-expression. Not because someone else told her, or she saw it online, but because she took the time to tune in and listen to the gentle voice within.  

What is Resurrection?

What is Resurrection?

First, faith was crushed.

But then, a revelation! 

Hopelessness burst

into hallelujahs.

Turning mourning into dancing.

From death, back to life?

Such power, from where?

Not iron fist, but selflessness:

Sacrificial Love. 

Struck by the reality of God’s upside down kingdom.

Or was it us who had been upside down?

Yes! We had only seen in black and white 

But now in technicolor.

Today, look to the tomb again

Where is He? Not THERE!

He is HERE! And EVERYWHERE! 

Still turning man’s wrath into dust.

Blowing it away like a spring wind 

And breathing into us- new life.

Bursting with love

Like Mary’s tears.

Winter

He comes in quietly

A thief in the night

A hush in the woods

Then a bitter chill

Winter strips everything down

The trees, naked

Gnarled and spindly stretching up, up to the sky

Beckoning for warmth, for light.

The weight of darkness and frigid trembling

Exposed, yet heavy

Do we huddle together like the deer?

Bringing warmth and comfort

Or solitary, like the White Oak tree digging our roots down deep

Winter shows us what’s underneath

What lies within and without

When summer’s bounty gives way

How To Be

be nice

no, be angry

be gentle

and compassionate

take care of you

but don’t be selfish

speak up

hold your tongue

you should take a break

don’t be so lazy

stop striving

you are a quitter

be beautiful

and thin

but also, love your curves

your face/ hair/ body look so old

you should embrace your aging self.

Is this how to be?

Or can you picture

when you were a tiny newborn?

little eyes looking up to the world

sweet songs sung over you

just loved

just open

just being held

That’s how to be.

Which One

Oh, to be alive

Embodied

Heartbeats and exhales on

warm skin

Eye to eye

To take up space together

Or is your world

Two-dimensional

Watching and listening on

cold, hard glass

Eye to screen

To watch the world pass you by.

Come Home, Dear One

Come home, dear one

You left in search of what already was within

To fill a longing birthed years ago

Not safe

Or not enough

Or, perhaps, not worthy of love

The first arrow, this wound of longing, opened up.

“I can fix it! I will fix it! I will love me!”

With things

Success

With busyness or fame

Or food or starving

With drink or the screen

Or perfection

“Oh, how I’ve hurt me!

Why can’t I get this right?”

The second arrow, this wound of shame, opened up.

But perhaps there is a better way:

To see your searching, your substitutions

To ask, what’s under here?

To remember: love met longing and started your quest.

Come home, dear one.

You are not enemy, but caretaker

Reach out and join hands with your hurting self

“You were always worthy of love

Let’s be still now, for Love lives here

It blooms within.”

As you stop searching, you find it everywhere

You and Love forge a new path

Giving and receiving

Healing

Home

This poem was inspired by Tara Brach's teaching on Desire and Addiction: Voices of Longing, Part 2