Ponder

Professions of ardor

Soft spoken

Oft mentioned

Consider those words well

Which belie true intention

Last Day of March

Stormy Sunday

Morning motioning to me

With rhythmic raindrops

Bouncing beckoning

Frenetic falling

Kisses from on High

That Girl

"That Girl" is my friend, Kate as well as the title of her Blog. I often share my poetry with her before posting because she is a fierce editor and sound critic.  Yes, I trust her that much.  In the past week I have written poems about Champions waving banners in victory over loss. I have written about what it means to be Brave. Brava Kate, for sharing your story, thus lighting a candle for others on the road to recovery.

THAT GIRL

Brave is the soul
Whose confession is that of
Brokenness
Illuminating the path to
Healing
On the journey to becoming
Whole

Please see more of Kate's writing at:

http://thatgirlkate.blogspot.com/2014/04/tg-waves-her-banner-high.html

 

When We Are Ready

All too often we hold on to the vain imaginings of "What Might Have Been".  Long after the relationship is over and the love is gone (not to mention the lover), we hold on.  It's a painful process that takes time, tears, and the generosity of spirit from like-minded friends. Here I pay homage to the process of "letting go" as it were..something none of can do until we are ready.





When we are ready

We release hopes of

What we believed

Might be our

Happily Ever Afters

We open our eyes

To the light of the real world

And wake to a dawn

Without benefit of a charmed kiss

When we are ready

We break the spell ourselves

We click our heels together

Three times

Wearing sensible shoes

Because Ruby slippers won't do

In a world without enchanted frogs

And knightless nights

Sound the battle cry!

Light the fires

Hoist the banner

Move out to battle

We who are Champions

When we are ready

Darning Eggs (for Gramma)

Some of my fondest memories in childhood are from time spent with my grandmother, “Gramma”.  She was something else! She lived with us for most of my early childhood and while the truth of the matter is that I was probably underfoot while she went about her daily routine, Gramma made me feel like the most welcome companion. She sang to me in Creole. She fed me soda crackers with butter and cheese – her daily breakfast.  And when she put on her face powder, she dabbed my cheeks too.  Her dresser drawers were filled with fabulous treasures…well, “treasures” to my five year old mind. Thimbles, pin cushions, hat pins, sachets and darning eggs.  The idea of sewing socks is something from a bygone era, but I feel extraordinary pleasure at the memory of Gramma spending the afternoon mending socks and giving me permission to handle her darning eggs.

I recall eggs kept in the corners

Of the very top drawer of the dresser

Could these be magic eggs?

What secret did they hold inside?

If I sat on one long enough

What being might hatch from within?

Silly me

Those are darning eggs.

Eggs purposed for sewing socks.

Toe holes poked through;

Heels worn thin.

What has become of the darning egg?

What has become of us with no time for darning?

Plentiful, expendable socks

Worn thin.

Tossed thoughtlessly in the trash

As we traipse to the market for more.

Will a 12-pack keep our feet adequately covered?

No magic in that

Silly me

Beneficial

Everything is permitted, but everything isn't beneficial. Everything is permitted, but everything doesn't build others up.1 Corinthians 10:23 CEB

Best for me
Enough food enough sleep
No disregard of my needs
Excellence in my choices
Fruitful in my pursuits
I lack nothing to
Create an environment
In which I thrive
All praise to God whose
Loving-kindness guides me

Heeding Hearing Learning

In my work as a Crisis Therapist dire situations are a part of my everyday world but I take it on the chin and then move on to the next case. As I am working on becoming a better me through weight loss and the Made to Crave Bible Study, my desire was for things to be different this time when I progressed through the study.  I want to be mindful of why I am eating and how God wants me to respond.  The following is the result of my work-a-day world intersecting with my Spiritual world.

Tonight I crave a splurge:
an eating binge.
I've consumed what I need, but I crave…more.
I crave.
It's cold outside. Frigid.
I have an hour to kill.
I crave.
Food calls to me with its siren song of promise, of comfort, of satisfaction.
I bought the "buy one get one free" croissants, but haven't indulged.
I need to be filled.
I crave.
So I drive through Starbucks,
but only leave with the 100 calorie drink instead of the salted caramel square.
(Can someone explain why the lo-cal drink costs twice as much as the aforementioned square?).
Then I hear God's voice inside of me..."sit with the pain".
Hearing is fine.
Heeding is hard.

But sit I do...
Here I sit. Sit. Sit.
Ahh...here it comes.
Sit with the suicide of a client.
Less than 24 hours out of the hospital and she's dead.
Her name scrawled carelessly on our "hot cases board".
In red no less,
Could it be more macabre?
And all the while she was already gone.
After 20 plus attempts I was dismissive of her:
Dismissive of her pain.
"Oh yeah, her again"!
There was nothing new to say in Rounds:
No fresh clinical insight or treatment regimen.
My prayer is that next time I'll be less dismissive and say,
"Hey now, remember Miss C." and do better.

I heard:
I need to be filled with compassion, not food.

I heeded:
When I sit with the pain
God sits with me.

I learned:
And on this other side there is
Peace.