May 13, 2010

Meaning

“…beauty for ashes…”

There is, after all, the problem of pain,
The problem of suffering.
The “How could this happen?”
And the “Why me?”

I have never thought that pain was necessary.
I have never thought that everything has a reason.
I see suffering everywhere I turn,
And I can’t begin to explain it away.

I don’t pretend to know the answers,
And I don’t have any claim to truth.
But I do believe there is meaning here,
In our brokenness:


For we are all broken.
We are heavy with brokenness.


But there is no healing without hurt,
There is no forgiveness without sin,
No reconciliation without wrong,
And no grace without brokenness.

This state is not a matter of will, or choice.
We all of us are flawed.
There is beauty in the splinters, though;
Restoration in the ruin, and it is this:

That our God does not ask us to be broken
Before we approach the throne,
But meets us, wrecked or spotless
Where we are, loves us, and makes us whole.

May 9, 2010

Are You My Mother?

in honor of motherers of all kinds everywhere

Teacher who made the new girl feel welcome
Who convinced me I was good enough
Who stayed late, sometimes, just to talk
Who is still a part of my life, after so many years:
Are you my mother?

Friend who watched me grow up
Who helped teach me right from wrong
Who applauded me from the front row
Who loved me into your own family:
Are you my mother?

Cousin, uncle, sister, granddad, aunt
Who taught me to fish
Who treated me like a princess
Who helped me understand who I am and where I come from:
Are you my mother?

Woman who delivered me
Who comforts me when I cry
Who fought with me and defended me
Who showed me what kindness looks like:
Are you my mother?

I cannot, looking back, remember a life
When the only person who mothered me
Was my mom.

Thank you Mom, family, friends
Thank you pastors, teachers, coaches
Thank you volunteers and church ladies
You are my mother.