Empty?

I felt empty.

Steve and I had dreamt about this weekend.

We had loved our time at Keele University:

the campus, the courses, the nightlife,

and the Christian Union.

The CU weekends away with inspirational teaching, relationship building and muddy football games were an annual highlight.

We walked away after graduation both wanting to go back and impart into students at a later date.

Knowing the CU president and our return to England imminent, the stars seemed to have aligned and opened an opportunity.

We were excited and eagerly anticipated all the things we would do, the ways Father God would move.

Who would have known that we would travel to that weekend, driving away from a house shrouded in grief just less than three weeks previously.

Like I said, I felt empty.

The weekend passed like a blur.
We had planned and prepared as diligently as ever, but I looked back and questioned whether things were as creative as we could have made them,

whether we really challenged them enough,

if our words were full of Holy Spirit, or just read off of a paper.

I wondered if I had really given my best,

if we had done the right thing.

After the weekend, our Facebook burgeoned with friend requests, comments about how much our talk spoke to them. And I got the warm and fuzzies.

When you think you don’t do well,

When things are super hard,

But you step out in faith regardless,

God can do great things.

True.

But not the end.

The thing is

I don’t just want warm and fuzzies.

I don’t just want to experience the high of a temporary feeling.

To think I did something good one day

And the next

Nothing substantial has changed

More was in store:

Never would I have imagined

That out of pouring myself out

That weekend still grieving

And being open to what Father wanted to do

That now

Two years to the day later

These girls who sat on seats and listened

Politely taking notes and clapping in the right places

Now

Sit at my table

Text me

Do lunch

Talk birth

Live chat through Obsessive Compulsive Cleaners

And pour into my sweet daughter

(with Petit Filous)

I don’t have much to offer this great world

Just my stories

My inappropriate humour

My meager words

And my love for people

But offer it I will

In the hopes that my longevity

My sticking around and involved

 it makes some difference

It changes some directions

It makes Father God bigger,

more visible,

more tangible,

in more lives.

"It"

So the animals like the donkeys came in two-by-two to Noah’s ark, but now there are like 700 donkeys…how comes there are so many?

The lady plants the seed in the garden and then the man comes and waters it.

The baby? Oh the stork carried it from a special place in the sky and brought it here.

the unspoken word

the taboo topic

the thing everyone is doing but no one is talking about

“it”

pictures circulate via middle school students phones

the girl walks the hall as every knowing eye turns

raucous boys celebrate in sweaty locker room

hidden magazines in bottom of closet

“it”

paralysing parents

through fear and shame

unable to speak

passing a book to an inquisitive child

and sending them on their way

generation after generation

remains tight-lipped

“it”

we were all made with “it”

we will all do “it”

but yet we don’t want to talk about “it”

we cry over youth impregnated and diseased

we weep over outfits of binge-drinking teens

shock fills us at dance moves of gyrating kids

but yet we are silent

we still call it “it”

and just “it” will disappear until the day

they say “I do”

“it”

that which is hidden

can never be healed

the thing in the dark

must be brought to the sun

the field of freedom

enjoying the light

where we sit and discuss

we are open

it’s right

yesterday’s bible session gone awry

spent sharing with girls

about all the unsaid

answering questions

pre-empting their struggles

breaking the silence

let’s talk about sex

educate our kids

let’s talk about sex

and stop handing out books

let’s talk about sex

in everyday conversation

let’s talk about sex

be honest about our experiences

let’s talk about sex

and not be ashamed

let’s talk about sex

let’s talk about sex.

Before it’s too late.

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.