Food

Dozens of children called up to show

Their answer to the question:

“What does your family look like?”

With mums and dads and siblings galore

Some from far flung across the globe

Others conceived in the same womb side by side

Smiley faces

With arms open wide

Stood by trees

And houses

Dogs in tow

Grandmas in the back

All saying the same thing:

“This is my family, whom I love.”

Amidst arguments and tantrums,

play fights and the real,

forced meals at the table,

laundry lining the hallways,

dishwasher on repeat,

and angry music vibrating floorboards,

There can still be love.

The time I wrestled him up,

‘Sharpshooter’ strain to pee.

Three months grounding,

for late night sojourn.

Sangria driven buggy,

meanders through Tenerife streets.

Accidental stumble,

onto nudist beach.

Late night jokes,

watching Madea.

Despite mother’s hand shielding from camera,

moments between us still beautifully captured:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Politicians argue

over civilisation’s demise

Homeless & runaways

Prisons overflowing

Abuse and violence

Rape and suicide

Addictions extensive

And remedies are sought

But the source isn’t prevented

The brokenness of our land’s foundation

Houses constructed on sand

ignored.

From the windows young faces

Peer from tattered curtains

Tear-stained eyes

because they could not

and cannot say:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Above the water

And the land

the crowning of creation

“it is good”

we as people

heart and bones

two flesh become one

establishing a legacy

for days to come.

Eternal vows

broken in a brief minute.

Promises shattered,

single eyes cry,

over bulging bumps

isolated grief.

“Where is my family, who I love?”

The cry of too many.

Do you have room 

at your table

to feed the family-less?

When they need not just 

the edible food prepared

But the restoration

And nourishment

and their hearts?

Ready?

The last words from my lips

last night were a cry out to God, and Steve who was listening too…

"I just want to be able to speak more…I feel like I am losing my gift…”

early morning phone call with cell phone on the breakfast bar

causes sleepy hearted stumble

voicemail reveals the unbelievable

“are you able to speak today?”

12 hours after prayer, answer comes.

My God listens

My Father is attentive to me

I am heard

Hurried panic to find words

And activities

50 children?

Aged 6-13?!

That usual thought of “this only happens to me”

Runs through my head

But exciting thought jogs alongside

“What a beautiful chance to speak into young lives.”

Last nights meditation meets this morning’s devotion

Conversation just between Father God and me

Brought to larger sphere

From the overflow of my heart

Shall my mouth speak

Clock ticks

Panic sets

Arrive to crazy kids running loose

Heart pains in chest. Can I do this?

Crazy English games of true or false

1.     England can fit into Texas 5 times

2.     I have met The Queen

3.     The 2012 Olympics are in London, England

4.     England’s most popular sport is soccer

5.     In cricket there are 11 players on a team

(answers below)

Then into passionate reading of Psalm 84:

“How lovely is your dwelling place…

…my heart and flesh cry out for the living God…

…Blessed are those who dwell in your house, they are ever praising you…

…better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere…

…no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.”

Returning to the sweet spot:

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you,

Who have set their heart on pilgrimage.”

What does a blessed face look like?

Where do you get your strength from?

What is a pilgrimage?

Both

a journey that 6 year old boy travels with heavy backpack on shoulders, as he face plants sprinting across gymnasium floor

and

a dance, celebration, the full life with Father

Time spent sketching and pondering: Do you want to set your heart on a journey and dance with God?

Paper and pen reveal hearts overflow

Sweet prayer time with babes

Hearts deep with praise

Then silly questions like

“are you married?”
“Do you have any brothers?”
“Do you like playing American football”

“What position did you play in soccer?”

but questions none the less, desiring relationship, understanding

to be connected with another person

connected to another place

isn’t that the desire of us all

to be connected?

And it all it takes is a heart

Willing and open

To say

I am ready

I will speak

As the letter of Peter says:

“always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you”

And I am ever hopeful.

 ----

[True/False: 1.True, 2.False, 3.True, 4.True, 5.True]

Babes

Lights lower to dim as

Slideshow flicks on screen

Reveals first photo of babe in arms.

Tears fall like a river

The child’s mother passes me kleenex.

Yes, this is graduation

The only situation that can bring me to tears.

My heart thinks

“this isn’t even my kid”

but truth is

I have been a part

Of many a life that I’m not biologically related to.

8^th graders filled the house

crazy hair, braces on teeth

sugar highs raise the roof

as we cart outside for ‘balloon stomp’

and ANTM walks on the garden path.

Crazy presentations with ‘Drain-0’ on stage

and dances with tissues

all a pre-cursor

for the depths of discussion

and questions openly asked

missional times

as I watched you grow.

I don’t remember half of what I taught you

(erase that which was in appropriate)

But I remember the times

I wiped your tears

And listened as you poured your heart

And pride when you stepped onto the stage and spoke

Or played or acted

Or spiked that ball

I remember how rough around the edges you were

At the start

And I wondered

What would you become?

And the hours of worry

And prayer and wondering

Will you be ok?

And now

You are more

So much more than ok

And I’m glad that I could be here

to see you

complete

this stage. 

For ahead of you stretches

A path of multi weaving

Leading and taking you

Who but Father knows

I release you babes

Like arrows through the sphere

And you will be famous

A father or spouse

A leader, a teacher

Activist, entrepreneur

Doing things that will be

Unknown to me. 

But we had this time

And I poured into you now

And I can never forget

The difference that made.

The difference we all make

When we put others first.

Building and growing

The next generation of artillery.

Our capacity stretches far beyond who we are

And into those who drink

From our stream outpouring.

So be a fountain that quenches

A stream of life

For by your banks

Growth will be seen. 

Thank you babes,

For letting me be,

A small part of your life,

A piece of your legacy. 

Box

Everyday an empire of choices build a tower and determine us

Made up of boxes for us to tick,

pick up,

construct our person.

Neatly stacked,

Black and white,

Plain and simple.

I want to judge you in one breath

Though it has taken years to sculpt your form

I want to define you with my periphery glance

Pick your side, pick your friends, pick your white picket fence or ghetto apartment

All in one decision

Pro-life or pro-choice?

“Do you know that God hates murder?”

“Do you know how hard it is to live with being raped, let alone have a child from it?”

Why do these women think the way they do?

What happened in their lives that profoundly affected them?

What, if any, faith do they have that shapes their lives?

What was their childhood like?

Do we really know the full story?

I remember, my 15 year old body struggling with adolescence, seeking solace in the words of my mother but being confronted by a harsh truth:

“The doctor said I should have had an abortion with you”

Potato chips hang from my mouth as my mother, my against-the-odds carrier, continues the washing up.

My life

Was nearly

Not my own?

I was one of them.

An embryo of political and social debate.

One of the little foetus’ on the ultrasound screen,

nearly deleted,

because they thought I didn’t matter,

it would be too hard.

My scared mother staring down the barrel of single parenthood

Listened to words that said

Because my days were not yet one,

I was ready for refuse

But from conception I was me.

Valuable.

Significant.

With purpose.

What would the world be like without me??

I then wonder what it would be like to go through the drama of being raped, the feeling of shame, dirt and pain and then turn to my husband and say:

“I am pregnant with my rapist’s child”

A child birthed out of violation, abuse attack.

Blah blah redemption blah blah hope blah…just blurry words, unsteady rocks that I can’t cling onto in the pain.

I remember a friend at university, questioning her future family, scared that she would never conceive as a result of an abortion.

Painful tears as blame filled her head, devastated that a decision done in a moment left residue for years to come.

I envision the face of a lady I met, having had several children taken into car, her reckless lifestyle not an option for the unborn child within her stomach, preparing in her heart to have them placed for adoption. Birthed from her belly, but not resting in her nest.

To pick pro-life or pro-choice

Is to suggest a false dichotomy

Is the life of the struggling mother not important?

Is it not a choice to say “yes” to the disruption to a child?

Is there much life when you know you are born out of illegitimacy and spend years in foster care?

Is it not a choice to choose to parent alone?

I believe in the sanctity of life

But that goes way beyond abortion.

It causes me to examine

War

Alcohol

Drug use

Broken families

Euthanasia

It is more than an ideology confined to one subject.

I believe in the right to choose

But that causes me to dissect

Politics

Sexuality

Abstinence

Materialism

Religion

We don’t live in the block city system where linear thinking runs parallel to Choice St. and 3^rd.

We are bombarded daily with the messiness of people

The after-shocks of the decisions we make

The dirt of compromise

The stench of people in process left behind

The weight of a weave wasn’t too heavy for even Nicki Minaj to see and say that

“Life is a prize”

This Saturday I will walk two miles for the Texas Coalition for Life

My chest inhaling deeply

My feet exhausted

My t-shirt emblazoned with

‘Choose Life’

Celebrating the joy of life

Knowing that preserving life, upholding it

Is an ideal

That not all can celebrate

But knowing there is a better way

To the pain and brokenness I see everyday. 

Legacy

This time with Steve’s dad is a bittersweet one.

We all know that our time on earth is relatively short,

somewhere between 80-100 years if we are fortunate.

So in a sense,

we are all dying,

each day a day closer to meeting our maker

But sickness has a way of bringing that to the forefront

Of putting the fragility of life right in our face

Brian & Ruth, through this past autumn, winter and now into spring

Have remained ever trusting in Father God

Faithfully reading His word daily

Relying on revelation by His holy spirit for a word to speak directly into their situation

They have not been failed by our God.

And Steve and I follow suit

Desperate clinging to Father

Asking Him to speak into this beautiful mess

This sweet

yet painful

Time

Daily reading, seeking, wanting a word...

This week I read of a king, rich materially, who was visited by those from an enemy state. He naively welcomes the adversary messengers sent to “wish him well” following his illness. Arrogantly, he tours them through his silver, gold, expensive oils, weapons and such, hiding nothing from their peering eyes.

He exposed himself to his foe.

A prophet (the spiritual equivalent of a psychic) comes along, shocked that he left nothing hidden from them and accurately predicts that all this will be taken from their land in the future.

The King has exposed his forthcoming descendents to their foe.

The Kings response:

“But surely nothing bad will happen in my lifetime.

I’ll enjoy peace and stability as long as I live.”

Do we seek wealth and security for just us or our future generations as well?

Do we think of relationships in terms of the offspring we will produce? Do we consider whether this will be a good union for them?

Do we look after our plot of land right now, or seek to create something sustainable for those to come?

Is only our country of matter, or do we look further afield to sow a seed?

When the photo albums of us are looked back on,

will the page turn swiftly

Hastily

When it comes to our picture?

Or will time be spent

Stroking our face tenderly

Reflecting on the love that was left behind

To a generation that never knew the sound of our voice?

We have no idea of the strength of this disease on Brian’s body

But we know of the strength

Impact

Legacy

Of his life on our future generations

His courage

Leadership

Hospitality

Compassion

Embarrassing anecdotes of Steve

These will live on far beyond his life

They will echo into the eternity of our family

They will be heard 

loudly

And embraced 

dearly

And peace and stability will endure,

long after his lifetime.