Advent: Me Too

The heavens sing to the earth:
“The LORD is greatly to be praised.”
I’ll sing too.

The fields boast with joy:
“God is sovereign over the earth.”
I want to shout it too.

The winds twirl with the trees:
“The LORD is coming, coming, coming.”
Let me dance too.

The seas rush forward in greeting:
“Hooray! Hosanna! See the glorious One!’
I’m running to you too.

The rising sun tells it plainly:
“The LORD is faithful and forever.”
I want to testify too.

Me too,
O God my God.
Me too.

on Psalm 96

 

Advent: Paying Attention

the heartache
and
the weariness
and
the “to do” list
and
the brokenness
and
the starling with its beautiful iridescence tapping at our window, seeking a shelter from the winter wind

the frustration
and
the guilt
and
the fear
and
the news
and
the faraway line of white seagulls over the lake, dodging cold winter waves and then diving for their catch

the questions
and
the struggle
and
the fight
and
the disbelief
and
the hand-carved ship ready to set sail from my Christmas tree branch where it hangs, eager for adventure

the limitations
and
the grief
and
the longing
and
the disappointment
and
the short fat snowman rolled together on a bitterly cold day, because who can (or should) quell the determination of youth?

find us, most merciful God,
through the joys and the strains alike
with beauty so simple and good news so plain
that our heads are lifted and our tongues are loosened to sing.

on Psalm 27:5-6

Be Still

I wondered if you would come.
I wondered if you would just sidle up
quietly
unexpectedly
and sit by my side to watch the river.
Of course if you decided to take time with me
I would wonder immediately how long
you might
stay
because
no one stays.
We go, we leave, we wander,
we are sent — often in your name, often
at your urging. But I was thinking
it’d be nice instead to stay
to remain by the river
to set down roots that draw from and give life back to
the river, but to be secretly pleased all the while
that the river — and not me —
had somewhere to go.
Someday I hope
to be still long enough to be
found
but not today.
Today you don’t come
to sit with me. Today I take off running to find you
and somehow our paths never cross.
May those you found instead
be blessed by that
sweet holy presence
that tirelessly flowing river
I was missing.