Inspiration

Words dropped down like pick-up sticks --
fall, scattering feelings and illusions
broken over coffee. But we turn our ears,
lift our heads to the sky, waiting -- leaning toward
eternity. Before the heat a rush, and then:
Voice traced words find the tongue -- fire.

Julia

And her eyes are true blue.
Her hair a golden autum sun.
Long limbed, her body still half fawn,
springs tentatively over the homonal threshold
dragonflies light on her palm, coming to rest
safely on chipped polish,child-bitten fingernails.
Laughter leaps,breathless in abandon, from her honest
tongue -- spirt filled, spirit spun -- heart of my
heart -- Julia.

Plastic

Time was when plastic meant a hard substance, not people. Time was when modern meant current,not out-of-date. Real time meant Greenwich,not streaming. Today the world plays inside post-modern fantasy. God and moral tradition are thrown out with the flick of a jaded brow. My elitist daughter's daughter tells me with twelve year old certainty, "Oh, duh. Of course I know about Adam and Eve; Mom gave me a book with myths from all over the world." Modern or post-modern, brittle plastic breaks: It is only a matter of God's real time.

A Conversation with the Holy Spirit

So, he said to me, "Do you play chess?" Not well enough to play with you, I thought but dared not say. "OK, I'll try a move or two." He said, "I'll be white, but you can go first." I said, "No fair; that was your first move!" And He just smiled. I didn't want to sacrifice the pawns, much less the beautiful knights or triangulating bishops, so I focussed on the castles, and then decided that was pretty risky. All that was left of course were the King and the Queen and I knew I needed them. "So, hmm..." I paused for a decade or so and muddled around, testing theories inside my own pictured head, and then when all my strategy was null and void, I sighed and said, "I know the game; I like to play, but I lost the rulebook along the way: Tell me the forfeit that I must pay." He looked at me with those inside eyes and just breathed. So, I laughed at his checkmate and the game was over, but Life had just begun, and the neat part was that we both won. It was easy afterall.

This Good Man, Joseph

And so now comes Father's Day and I think of Joseph. This loyal man who blunted the sneers visited on Mary, this brave father who taught his own manhood as shadow example and earned the daily bread for the Son of the Father; what humble courage to embrace the adopted son and keep the Saviour safe, to hold faith with the messanger, abandoning his home to save the baby son -- the seedling life of the living Vine. What a blessing to all humanity that this father, this often overlooked carpenter who now and then is mentioned in a history or as a figurine, in vignette or a nativity, is the father that loved the Son. How blessed was he for all time,not only for the swaddling cloth, but for the cloth of honest humanity that protectively he spread and knotted safe inside the visage of his workman's brow: The daily cares of family fell from the eyes of the skilled craftsman as his storied hands built the home where Jesus lived. Certainly tendered by the touch and yet as certain Joseph's calloused hands were blessed, fingers that had the kingly honor to trace the first smiles across His face, to hold the baby Son of God -- Joseph's little boy who is our great I Am.

Time Outside Time

Softly our prayers are said and on pillowed down we lay our heads...to dream. Life somehow billows around us in the golden now of soul-to-soul, awake outside the earthly shackles, inside sleep. I am not surprised then to see my grandfather's eyes, shining again, or my father sitting in his plaid cotton shirt. I do not weep to see the sight; it is just right. And then the central theme of me switches focus and I see the circle of friends by my side, vignettes of women far and wide are near and dear inside my nights -- rays of light that sparkle and play into God's tomorrow and my new day. Space does not limit, nor place confine this precious sisterhood of mine so dearly embossed inside life's gordian but circleted knot, entwined safely together in Christ's central cross.


The wake up to prayer, the touch of morning light, we turn to our God,
facing tomorrow and tomorrow.

In the land of New Normal,
 holidays and fears
rush toward us from television and government,
but this is our country -- still brave, still free:
Still 'In God we Trust,'
 Still America Strong.

Isaiah 41:10 (AMP) 

10 Fear not [there is nothing to fear], for I am with you; do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties, yes, I will help you; yes, I will hold you up and retain you with My [victorious] right hand of rightness and justice.

There is peace, there is safe assurance in this circled Christian family:
Vignettes of men and women far and wide, lighting our Lord's lamps,
putting shadow to light and with the full armor of God, singing together
Alleluia -- Amazing Grace!

Romans 8:31
What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

Courageous days and nights as dark thoughts spin our way,
as in other lands, brothers and sisters fall -- lost to persecution's storm
but found in Christ as Saints, reborn in garments white,

Revelation 6:9-10 and they cried out with a loud voice, saying, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, will You refrain from judging and avenging our blood on those who dwell on the earth?" 11 And there was given to each of them a white robe; and they were told that they should rest for a little while longer...'

This weekend we celebrate our America!
Splashes of light from God's tomorrow cover the faithful in joy,
extinguishing fear. It is our day -- our freedom song,
still our land of liberty,
born Judeao Christian, formed after communal prayer
 pens to parchment with sacred intent.

Space does not limit nor place confine this precious fellowship of minds and hearts.
Hand in hand over land and sea we rise in song, so dearly tied in life's gordian  --
 knot -- safely unraveling but freely together in Christ's central cross.
Entwined  we pray, we sing,

"While the storm clouds gather far across the sea, 
Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free, 
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair, 
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer. " 

God Bless America, 
Land that I love. 
Stand beside her, and guide her 
Thru the night with a light from above. 
From the mountains, to the prairies, 
To the oceans, white with foam 
God bless America, My home sweet home.

God's Beauty

We think of honeysuckled flowers; we think of spiderweb sparkles shimmering in the morning's dew. We think of valleys deep, verdant and green, and mountains peaked with power supreme. These things are beautiful to our eyes, precious to our memories. But. The here music, the now wonder is the truth of people and their hearts, shining inside our lives: The bagboy at the grocery store with the limp who rambles on but smiles at you; the cranky lady (now a friend) at the video store with the sad eyes and old hair dyed too red; the walmart cashier who tells you about her kids through pierced lips, but soft eyes -- because you asked; the 5 toothed tatooed man at the food pantry who winks a confidence that he slips tracts about Jesus into the bags; the roadworker who flashes a hesitant sweaty hand because you waved. God's beauty is his image in us. God bless.