Don't Keep Me Humble

To say that I am humble
surely shows of my deficiency.
To share it as my status
gathers millions at my feet.
"Let the one who has no sin
be the first to cast the stone."
To throw one, then, is to admit
that pride once more has won.
Creating clever language
without love to guide production
stands atop the rooftops, shouting,
only to gain attention.
If all of this assumes me lowly,
then this I can't accept.
Don't keep me humble, Lord--
for that I'm proved inept.

originally written Winter 2009

Kitty

I have a little friend
Who sits upon a box.
She not the working type
Like a donkey or an ox.
She’s of the lazy sort—
With an air of majesty.
So sweet and soft and kind,
That’s why she is Kitty.

originally written Fall 1996

Cat

I had a friend once—her name Cat.
She sat and she sat and she sat
In her little blue chair with a confidant air
Like the cat in The Cat in the Hat.

a silly little limerick

originally written Fall 1996

Keep Me Running

I’ve tried to jumpstart
my approach toward God
using what’s expected:
posture, music, words.

But something is frayed.
I’ve tried to set my emotions
like the idle of a car,
with duty, service, and daily Bible reading.

But something is jammed.
I thought that careful maintenance—
trying to make myself acceptable to God—
would keep me running smoothly,

and that attending church
could navigate me out of disappointment.
I thought pristine condition meant
making a smile my waxy shine.

But He’s not looking for a demonstration.
And He doesn’t mind my knocking.
Expressions aren’t tools
and coming together is no diagnostic manual.

“So Lord, I come to You
with all that I am,
not asking You to fix me…
just letting You know I’m here.”

originally written Spring 2005

No Farther

Crowds line the counter.
Envelopes fill with new work to be done.
Ribbons of film sway from little teeth—
and the machine beeps again.
I am the only one in the blue vest
with its crisp white letters on the back.
It is a bull's eye.
And I am the target.

Shots fire.

Pick up film? Last name? Dropped off when? What time?
One hour? Send-out? Have your ticket?
Whew. Close one.

Last name? Have your ticket? One hour? Just a sec.
Another zings past my ear.

Passport photo? Just a sec.
They’re getting closer…

Pay here, sir. Your change and receipt. Need a bag?
I have to duck!

Need a camera? Just a sec.
It’s too late!

One hour? Dropping off? Fill this out.
Relief from the rounds.

"Is there someone else working
who can help you with this line?”
The hunt is on.

A man hands me three pictures.
“Can I pay here?”
I cannot sell you these, sir.
They are copyrighted.
"Then who can I speak to that will?
I want your manager!”
His breath leaves his mouth
like the smoke of a gun
and I feel weak.
I should have known
I couldn’t handle it.

As I retreat from the counter,
I remember God’s promise:
“Do not fear.
You are more precious than gold.
I AM your shield.
You will not fail.”
I look up at the front
as another blue vest appears
in the crowd.

originally written Spring 2005

Can a Lifetime be Squeezed into Three Years?

Standing on a hilltop,
I can’t help but wonder:
Can a lifetime be squeezed
into three years?

I feel like a disciple of old today
as he stood looking upward,
wishing he could see into heaven.
I wonder how long he stood there
before it sank in: “You mean,
He’s not coming back?”
Jesus left them with one word:
“Soon,” He said.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Soon has been two thousand years
in the making.

I can understand their fear:
their teacher was leaving them.
For three years He had
taught them,
loved them,
fed them
and now…
Now what?

For three years
you have loved us,
you have taught us,
you have fed us,
and now…
Now what?

Now they must stand on their own,
as I must stand
on my own.

to Mike and Brenda, for your leadership
originally written Summer 2005

Perfume

Lord Jesus,
pour out her life
as anointing oil,
a sweet aroma.
Like the flowers,
gently carry her scent
in the breeze,
to soothe,
refresh,
and heal.
It is Your scent, Lord.
As it curls toward heaven,
inhale its blend
of love,
beauty,
and strength.
May she be to You
a pleasing fragrance
as she walks with You

the rest of her days.

a prayer for Karina

originally written Summer 2005

covering

just after practice
i started to class
in rain
that wasn’t pouring
but reminded me steadily
i had forgotten

my umbrella

originally written Winter 2005

The Song I Sing

Many who come to Nashville
sing for themselves.
And when praise claps
for them,
it pleases,
but soon fades into whispers
like a chord.
They are left silent,
empty.

We come to Nashville
to be taught how to sing.
Thousands gather,
for we are desperate
to be filled.
The Conductor is here,
demanding attention
with His name.

His song holds me captive
with its glorious melody.
Its percussion is my heartbeat.
My voice crescendos
with the choir
and I fade away
in the anthem of His glory.

originally written Spring 2005

Great Granny's Poem

This first poem wasn't written by me but my great grandmother (1913-2005). My cousins, brothers and I called her Great Granny. She was one of my favorite people growing up. She'd feed my brothers and me frozen cool whip as a snack and whenever we'd come over, she always had brownies for us! Her only child, my grandmother, found this poem in the last years of Great Granny's life and, at Grandma's request, my cousin and I were honored to read this at Great Granny's funeral. I am only too certain that these words are all the more true for her today.

“One Beautiful Day”
by Lucille Haynes Klatt, circa 1970

If a magic wand could turn back the years,
take you back to childhood free of all cares,
would you choose a day full of laughter and love
with the warm, bright sun shining down from above,
or would you be weary from toil in the field
as you gather at twilight to partake evening meal?
‘Round the long table filled with home-grown food
the family sat talking in gay loving mood.

In the spring of the year the leaves tender and fresh,
returning from church for an afternoon of rest,
The neighborhood friends drop in for a chat
Wearing blue faded work clothes or best dress and hat.
Then there are school days full of study and play
Beginning September and ending in May.
Parties and singings and church meetings too,
It’s a beautiful world made especially for you.

Nights that are stormy, days filled with rain,
troubles and trials, sadness and pain,
the chain has been broken by death coming in,
closing a door like a cold wet wind.
Sad are the hearts of us as we wait
to follow our loved ones through that pearly gate.
We will gather again one beautiful day
in heaven above as God leads the way.