Sometimes I Don't Understand What I Read

Though more sporadically than I'd like, I'm still enjoying writing my responses to scripture in my prayer/poetry journal. Sometimes, though, I'm puzzled by my reading -- as with today's reading of Mark 11.

I wonder why

You cursed a fig tree

for not bearing fruit

out of season

when You were hungry.

You could have made the fruit appear --
received the gift of God
because You are He
who can move mountains
and cast them into the sea.
You proved positive your power --
but in the negative. Why?
Why a miracle of death?
How does the curse of the Christ
demonstrate that faith in God
will grant us the gifts of our hearts?

Open my eyes;
I cannot see.


Are there any passages of scripture you've been puzzling over lately?

Monday Musings on the Creator in Me

The theme this week at HSB is "A Day in the Life" -- Linky party and all! In honour of that theme, I found myself writing a poem . . .

A {Hard}Day in the Life of a Homeschooling Mama


Slightly short on sleep,
she rises, ready to read the Word,
wanting that Water to wash away the worries

of yesterday, and today, and tomorrow --

the naysayers of Now.

But she lingered a little too long,

and now padded patters mingle with the jingle

of dog tags. The house is astir,

and peace is pierced by demands for food, fresh air . . .
The “quiet time” will have to wait,
and she chides herself for not getting up earlier.
At least there’s the regular readings with the children –
passages and prayers that turn all eyes to Him --
for the millisecond that separates squabbles and scuffles.
Grace. Gratitude.
She grapples for them, knowing that
therein lie the miracles that will make the day right.
Her head and heart heave with the knowledge that
those miracles are hers to have –
to hold and hand over to her children.
But it’s hard.
Simple.
But hard.
The recognized lie of “not enough”--
strength, wisdom, patience --
pushes her to pray
and tap into Truth,
the only Power to prove the miracle.
And when she does
all is not perfect,
but Peace presides.
This lesson learned requires review –
repeated recollections, hour by hour,
minute by minute,
that His strength is made perfect
in her weakness.
Moments of mercy –
His through her –
make amends to the day.
Readings and ramblings,
capers and calculations,
are interspersed with
glimpses of Glory –
Glory that gives hope
for the Now of her tomorrow.

_____________________________________________

Sometimes descriptions of "a typical day" scare me. Whether it's my own description or someone else's, they can inspire fear that I'm failing because I'm not doing "enough," or because I'm not doing things "right." Like many homeschooling moms, that "f" word -- "failure" -- haunts my head -- and steals my joy. So, my hope with this poem is that others might see themselves in it -- and be inspired to cling to those glimpses of Glory that God gives. We have the Power in us -- the Gift of Grace in every moment -- because we have Creator God in us. We can claim joy -- even in those hard moments when the Deceiver would drag us down.

Will you wallow in feelings of failure -- or will you grab Grace and count it all Joy -- every. typical. day?

Prayer Poetry

Sometimes I feel silly (or maybe it's pretentious) writing poetry -- and even moreso sharing it. But I read this weekend that more than one third of God's word is expressed in poetry. So, obviously God uses it to speak to His children, and He inspires them to write it. Therefore, I'm going to push the cat off my journal and keep at it . . .

Mark 1:13

For forty days
You were tempted
in the wilderness
with the wild beasts
by Satan --
You, the Son of God --
tempted by a fallen angel
who did not believe
he had enough,
nor that You
had enough.
He tempted you with "more."
How could he tempt You,
how could he offer
beyond what You have
when You have all --
when You are all?
And how can he
truly tempt me
when I have You --
the All Power and All Glory --
in me?
May I, too, submit
to the ministry of angels,
as you did,
and resist the temptation
to demand more than
the ALL that I already have.
____________________________________________

Do you find yourself wanting more -- more time, more energy, more space, more freedom, more something? (I know I do.)

Why do we doubt that in Him we have all that we need?

Bad Blogger

I feel like I've been a bad blogger of late because I've mostly only been posting my Monday Musings. That is not to say that I have not been creative -- I have a couple of things on the go, and am looking forward to sharing them with you once they're done -- and they've been given as gifts ;)

In the meantime, I was flipping through my prayer/poetry journal and decided there were a couple of poems I could share with you. They're not polished pieces -- just personal responses to my scripture readings.

Matthew 16
The cross I bear
is sometimes hard
to distinguish
from the burden I bear
in the flesh.
My self-sacrifice
is not always
the cross I should carry.
Help me, Lord, to distinguish
between good things
and the Right Things
that You would have me do.

Matthew 17
I find it comical
how you told Peter
to go catch a fish
and in its mouth
would be a coin
to pay his and your
tributes to Caesar.
And yet that is just like you,
isn't it? You meet our needs
in the most creative of ways.
Put me on the look-out, Lord,
for the unexpected ways
you meet my moment-by-moment
needs. Send me fishing
if you will!
And may I model Your
everyday miracles
in the way I meet the needs
of my family.
May I not lack that grain of faith,
as the disciples did,
and miss opportunitites to
minister to the people
in my life
that need a miracle.

(Note: If you want a cute idea for creating a visual for this story, see here.)

Have you engaged in any creative responses to your readings lately? Remember -- it doesn't have to be fancy or perfect!

Another Poem

I'm still enjoying making use of my prayer/poetry journal . . .

Response to Matthew 14

How often have I cried for fear
as I was tossed in one of life's storms?
When I had a glimpse of you in the midst,
and you said, "Be of good cheer; it is I;
be not afraid,"
did I walk forth on the waves
and sink in my unbelief?
I did. And I do.
And I cry out,
"Lord, save me!" still.
For I am afraid I will drown
while wishing sometimes I would
so the storms would end for good.
But You steady my ship with Your presence;
You inhabit this vessel,
and I, too, worship you saying,
"Of a truth, thou art the Son of God."


Again I ask -- have you tried writing a poem lately? It doesn't have to be profound or even particularly literary. Try it -- it's fun! And if you think you "can't" -- check this out: I Can.

Prayer and Poetry

This past Christmas, my mom gave me a book entitled, Dear God, It's Me and It's Urgent: Prayers for Every Season of a Woman's Life, by Marion Stroud. I confess that it's not a title that would draw me in -- but I began reading it a few nights ago. I was afraid the prayers would be formulaic, and because they were written as poetry, I figured they might also be filled with forced figurative language ;) However, neither is the case. The words are natural, expressive, and meaningful; I can relate to much of what is written, to the point that it could even be me doing the writing sometimes.

So, a thought came to me, and I wondered why it had never come before. Some of you will remember that I altered a journal last year with the intent of using it as a prayer journal and a poetry journal -- meaning I would record some of my prayers and I would write some poetry in it. Why, then, did it never occur to me to make my prayers my poems????? I've tried it twice now, and I'm finding it quite a useful way to focus my prayers. Now, I won't claim to be writing brilliant poetry, but I figure I'm in good company with the psalmist, David, who set some awesome examples for me.

I know I'm slow, and that there are lots of people out there that already do it, with centuries worth of examples to prove it -- but I thought I'd share today's entry in case -- somehow -- my simple efforts might inspire someone else to give it a try. My bible reading was in Matthew 7, and the verse that caught my attention was: "Your father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him" (vs.8).

Father God, what a blessing it is
to call you "Father,"
to be able to come to you
with the whole gamut of emotions --
fear, pain, sadness, joy, confusion
anger, excitement, frustration --
and know that you know
before we speak
what we need.
Abba Father, you are a true daddy
who rejoices in our presence
and desires to give every good gift
even before we know we want it
because it is what we need.
And you love us
even when we feel most unlovable.
Like children,
we may ask, "Do you love me when . . ."
and the answer is always,
"I love you because
you are mine.
Eternally.
No matter what.
Nothing can pluck you from my hand."
Truly --
what more could we ask
than to be held
in the hand of Him
who holds eternity?

Have you tried writing your prayers as poems? What did you think of the process? What did you think of the product?

Two Little Orange Chairs

Last night we sat around a campfire with some friends, and one lady talked about a job she'd had in which she spent 45 minutes each morning praying for the people that would sit in the chairs she was setting up. I used to do that at the beginning of each school year; I'd pray for each student that would be sitting in my classroom.

As I sat on the porch this afternoon reading some poetry (Shona Cole would be proud of me;), my eyes fell on the little orange chairs my children brought out to sit on during the meteor shower (that didn't happen in our line of vision!) the other night. Those little school chairs took me back to the fireside conversation, and to those prayers so long ago -- and I found myself composing this little poem:

Two Little Orange Chairs

Before me sit
two little orange chairs,

relics from a kindergarten classroom.
Scratches and stains bear witness
to silent stories of souls
who've sat on them.
And now, decades later,
I find myself praying for those souls.

Do they have happy memories of time
spent sitting, spelling, and sorting shapes?
Did the rattle of the chairs' metal feet
distract them from the drone of days
drowned in alphabets and abacuses?
Or did it echo their dancing dreams
as they laughed and learned
of worlds beyond their own?

Where are those children now?
Are they living, and loving life?
Have they found Joy and Peace?
Do they yearn for the simple days when
their chairs rattled as they wriggled?
What have they done, and
what have they become?

Wherever they are, I pray for the salvation
of the sweet souls that sat on these
two little orange chairs.

Have you read or written any poetry lately? What simple, everyday object could you look at with the eyes of the poet in you? I challenge you to exercise your poetic license by writing a simple poem! Let me know if you accept the challenge by leaving a comment below, or by contacting me at the email address in my sidebar.

A Poem

If you're a regular reader, you know that I have taken on the challenge to write poetry more often. While I haven't been posting it, I've actually been writing far more than usual, particularly about my children. So far, most has been too personal to share, but I thought I'd share the one I wrote this morning about DS3 just to prove to you that I have been at it ;) It is yet untitled:

Like a kitten craving attention,
you crawl into Daddy's lap.
You twist and turn,
pressing your head and face
into his neck and chest,
your eyes half-closed
and your lips upturned
in a Cheshire grin.
I half expect you to purr
as you paw at Daddy's face.

He strokes you gently
and you wriggle some more.
You stretch your limbs,
exposing your belly,
and wait 
-- with bridled anticipation --
for fingers to tickle
and release the loving laughter
that builds in your breath.

When Daddy's teasing fingers
finally find their way from your face
to your baby boy belly,
you morph from quiet kitten
into roaring lion,
loud-throated thunder
exploding into howls of happiness --

Feline felicity in the form of a bare-bellied boy.

Are there any images that you have associated with your children lately? Why not try writing a poem about it! It's fun :)