I Got a B: For Best with Grace

The test came
And went.
I tried hard,
I studied much,
I worked diligently.

Only to get a B.

And I told myself
I was bad.
I should've done better.

The test came
And went.
She tried hard,
She studied much,
She worked diligently.

And got a B.

And I told her
It was okay.
She'd tried her best
And I was proud of her.

Today, I was thinking
About that test.
Frustrated with myself
And tearing myself down
For not doing better.

And then Light began to dawn.

Jesus told us to love our neighbor as ourselves
But maybe
We need to love ourselves as our neighbor.
Just maybe.

After all,
I cut her slack
Told her it was okay.
Why was I beating myself up?

Why was I holding myself to a high standard of performance
When all Jesus had for me was grace?

So I asked Him.
What is the truth:
The balance between
Striving for excellence
And striving for perfection?

And He said:
"The test came
And went.
You tried hard,
You studied much,
You worked diligently.

You got a B.
But it's not the end of the world.
I just want you to remember my grace
Remember
That my strength is made perfect in your weakness.

It is okay.
You tried your best
And I am proud of you."

I got a B: For Best with Grace.

Be Gentle on Yourself...

You carry a burden much too heavy
For your shoulders.
Doing.
Performing.
Be gentle on yourself.

You weren't created to find your worth
In what you DO.
You're YOU
The only one on this earth.

Perfection isn't to be found in a broken people.
Grace must run free
For me.
For you.

Cut yourself some slack and while you are
Remember that your adherence to a list of rules
Won't stand forever.
Since we live for eternity,
Why should something with no value in heaven
Define us in the here and now?

Store up treasure in heaven
Rather than the approval of men on this earth.
He is extending arms of mercy
And acceptance of the work you do for Him.

Rush around performing and fretting over your goodness?
At the end of your day
He'll say,
Be gentle on yourself.

Desire His smile;
Look only into Abba's face.
Seek truth but remember grace.
Be gentle on yourself.

Eyes/"I"s...

Windows into my soul's depth
You reveal my unloving heart.
You look
For bad
In others
How very
Selfishly
You act!
Why do you criticize everyone?
You put me to utter shame


As I realize the horrible truth:
You search for the bad so that
You can
Claim to
Be better.
Look at
Your own
Problems!
They are numerous. Remember:
The humble man is the wise one.


Stop thinking about making "I" great
Stop always labeling yourself perfect
And search
Your heart.
Maybe there
Are some
Things you
Can learn.
Suddenly,
I see for the first time my own desperate
Need, and I stop to pray for humble eyes.



"Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye." (Matthew 7:3-5)

Prowling Perfectionism

Perfect
Black and white
Wrong and right
Always higher
Expectations

People practicing
Pretentious performance--
Constant criticism,
Demobilizing discouragement,
Rigid rules.

Does God really love the righteous more?

Ponder
The Words of the God of Grace:
"My strength
Is made perfect
In weakness,
Your weakness."

So think again.

Could brokenness be the key to holiness?
Could our mistakes be the way He shows His beautiful Love?
Could our ugly things be how He shows His glory?
Could His grace be that which makes the imperfect holy?

Consider:
He is perfect;
We are in Him.
Why should we then strive?

Goose!

Fifteen
Playful children
Throw balls
Pick teams
Or rather...
Fourteen

All
Enjoying the fun
Except the one
Little girl.

They skip over her
'Till she's the last to pick to play
Never throwing the ball her way.

Her eyes, deep and brown
Seek the ground.

A new game is introduced:
Duck, Duck, Duck, Goose.

She sits in the circle
Chosen by no one
At all.
I sit down with them;
They are excited that I want to play.
I smile at the Sad One.

Goose! I hear above my head
Before I move the child has fled
And I am on the run.
I no longer sit--
I'm it.

I touch each wondering one
Who in suspense
Is ready to run.
Her head is drooping
Not expecting anyone to choose her.

I pass around the circle
Enjoying the look of mystery in their eyes
Until they sigh
With impatience.

I laugh.
Then with one gleeful chant
I see those brown eyes dance
As at my "goose"
She jumps up
In joy.

She even catches me
And I'm glad to sit "in the pot"
Midst the giggles
Just for that look in her eyes,
That smile that shows her missing teeth.

Sitting there
Watching her delight as she calls out "duck,"
I'm rather awe-struck.
I'm a "goose"
Chosen by God
When I felt all alone.
His love picked me out
And made me His own.

And His love
Never fails.

"These things have I spoken unto you...that your joy might be full...I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you. You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you." (John 15:11, 15b, 16)

Autumn Shadows

Shadows dance
And the wind whispers the scent
Of fall.
Autumn raises its head
From its Summer Slumber
As lonely
Leaves
000fall
0000from
000000Coloring Trees.
They gather on the ground
Together
With the changing shadows.
Shadows of the leaves above,
Shadows of their fallen comrades,
Reflecting praise
While dancing in willing
Worship
Of their Creator.

Penguins' Perspective

Black splotches against
Cold whiteness.
Like Oreos in vanilla icecream.
Swirling around in the
Bleakness.
Gathering together against
The wind's chill.
Zooming in, one notices
The individuality
Versus the crowd
Of parents shielding their young.
A humorous sight--
Parents laboring
In fancy tuxedos.
What do they wish to instill in their young?
Black and white,
No gray, no color is present,
Strict.
Together they march
In one huddle--
An army of Distinction
With one purpose:
Surviving.
The rules of survival are
Definite.
Nothing can be left
Undone.
Death clenches from birth
And devours
In the moment of
Carelessness.
They look at their world of black and white
As perfection.
Not knowing of the rainbows
Beyond their icy world.
Frozen but families
Cold but caring
Seeking the right ways
To live.
So they continue
Huddling for heat,
Life on the snow
Under the world.

Mirror on the Wall

for Maura L., that you might remember that you're beautiful...

Mirror on the Wall,
Reflection of my face,
You speak the truth
Yet lie to me
Simultaneously.

Like a ruler
You show me
That I don't measure up.
Like a detective
You uncover my faults.
Why show me
Truth
Like pimples and dark circles?
Why not lie
In moments
Such as these?

Mirror on the wall,
You're a liar.
You tell me
I'm ugly
Because I don't look like
A super-model.

Let me tell you
Something:
I don't believe you.
You're a coward--
Going with the flow of
Modern culture.

Mirror on the wall,
How dare you?
Woman in the reflection,
What will you
Believe?

Perceive past the pimples
To the smile.
Delve deeper than dark circles;
See the eyes.

Eyes that show the
Joy
Of a compassionate heart.

The beauty that the
Mirror on the Wall
Overlooked.

Conviction Concerning Compassion

Sadness hid behind her eyes
Filled with struggle, poverty, lies,
Around her--roaches, mildew, mold;
This filth had taken its steady toil.
Her face for His Hope cried.

I asked her, "Are your parents here?"
She closed her eyes; they filled with tears.
"I've never met my dad before;
Mom left me with my aunt at four.
She's been gone for three years."

Her frame shook with fear and shame
She turned away to hide her pain.
I wanted to hug her though it wouldn't do much
But she pulled away at my finger's touch
Of her shoulders -- too young for such strain.

I strongly longed to fix her mess.
I could only say, "Come to VBS?"
She took the page and held it tight.
Then suddenly, I saw it -- a flicker of light
Inside her gaze of loneliness.

She spoke with surprise, "You want me to come?
I've never been invited by anyone."
I looked at her face and felt my tears rising
Her path of life and pain realizing
And a part of me tried to run.

So often we run from the truth of their days
Thinking that somehow, it'll just go away.
We've heard that it happens, we know that it's there,
But we get so caught up with me and my care
That their unreached condition stays.

I looked at her squarely to share with her truth
And said to her, "Yes. Yes! We want to have YOU!
I love you and Jesus loves you, you know"
Her aunt was calling and she'd have to go
But she flashed me a grin and I knew

I wouldn't be running anymore from their pain
For now that I'd seen it I wasn't the same.
I know the compassion that God wants in me
That shows broken people they can be free
Through the power of Jesus' name.

A Smile!

for the Snow family

Heartache,
Confusion,
Stress.

Struggle,
Hardship
Weariness.

Day to day
To day again.
At times it seems
Without an end.
Where is our God?


But then!

A smile!

Yet not one smile
But more.

Nathaniel smiles
The family does, too.
Could times be changing
Could Hope be true?

Yet not these only
Smile
But more
The best of all:
Our Lord.

He smiles
And sings over them.
"Sometimes I have to work within."

"Just because you do not see
My work, still trust in Me.

The outer will come
Soon
In perfect time after the in.
No matter what, I always complete
Each and every work I begin."


Nathaniel smiles
His Healer, too.

All is well.

Struggling

She does the right things
Or at least, she tries.
But it's never
Good enough.
She gives up trying
And does the wrong things.

She knows that is not
The right attitude,
But she's yearning for acceptance
Just as she is.
Why try
If nothing can satisfy
Others?

Why can she never make the mark?
She feels so empty.
Where is her purpose?
Where is her God?

Yearning

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
Our criticism stares
Our judgment kills.
Can we not see?

She’s yearning
For love
For Him
But we never embrace her.

How will she find True Love if she cannot
Hear the Savoir
Over the clamor of our condemnation?

She’s yearning
For Hope
For Him
But we pass her by.

How will she find His Hope if she cannot
Feel His fullness
Over the continuance of our complaining?

She’s yearning
For Peace
For Him
But we whisper over her weaknesses.

How will she find His rest if she cannot
Sense His serenity
Over the hurricane of our hypocrisy?

She’s yearning
For Truth
For Him
But we turn her away.

How will she find His reality if she cannot
Perceive His presence
Over the jabbering of our jargon?

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
But she’s seeking shelter, love, eternity.
His body suffered all so she could be
Clean.

But Body of Christ
We fail Him
By doing all those things His body would not.

She’s yearning.
Can we not see?

Singing

Singing
for Elya Snow
Based on Zephaniah 3:17

Frightened,
She stands
Where the rubber meets the road,
Where the waiting greets the incident,
Where her wings test the sky.

What does the future hold?

If only things were
Like they once were!

But
Then what of the perfect plans
That have strengthened her faith
In her Infinite God?

What of the answered prayers
That have proven
A testimony to the lost ones she’s spoken with?

What of the testimony
That will one day testify
Of His wonderful love?

Her head knows these things are true,
And yet,
She still stands
Waiting,
Frightened,
Worried.
Scared of the leap of faith that must come
Soon.

The moment presents itself
And she takes the leap,
Praying
For help,
For peace.

“Help me mount up,”
Her heart cries,
“With wings like eagles.
Help me be strong!”

And yet,
She is falling.
Why are her wings not enough?
Why is her God not giving her strength?

“Listen closer.”
“Listen closer.”
He prompts her fearful heart.
And then she hears it—
Singing.

She smiles and rises
Upon the morning’s dawn.
Listening
To the singing—
The precious singing of her Savior
Especially for her.

Now she soars,
Into whatever lies ahead,
Mounting up with wings as an eagle.
Safe,
Held,
Quieted
By His loving songs:

“Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
Be still.
Let Me draw you
Into My arms.
Rest in My peace
For it will
Never
Pass away.
I rejoice over you
And long
To quiet your fearful heart.
I will be Faithful
Always.
My will forever seeks your good.

Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
I love you!”

Distracted Bride

Distracted Bride
for Heidi Schlender


People gather
To see the sight.
They wait
For her—
The girl in white.

But none
Waits more
Than he.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As he waits for her eyes
To lock into his.

But the girl in the back
Is distracted
As the usher’s open the doors.

She sees the people,
The flowers,
The runner on the floor.

She sees the petals that fell
Misplaced
Onto the carpet.

She sees her friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look his way,
For her to remember to spend time
With Him—
Her best friend.

She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle
And turns around.

And she goes backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The Groom stands
At the throne of heaven
He waits
For her—
The Church, His Bride.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As He waits for her eyes
To lock into His.

But she sees people’s faults
Praise’s glory
The rocks upon her path.

She sees the opportunities that fell
Misplaced;
They are so important to her
That she fails to look ahead.

She sees her earthly friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look His way.
To take time to want to hang out
With Him.

Something happens.
She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle of life
And turns around.

And she goes slowly backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The bride in the church looks
Past the colorful sea of people
Past all in her pathway.
To His face
His eyes
His smile.

No distractions seem to bother her
As long as her eyes are his,
As long as he is there.
Waiting
Saying everything in that stare
Of love.

And she knows
He is what is important as she walks the aisle.
He is the joy that makes her full.

This is His Story

The Author picks up the pen
And pauses.
Must He write the horrible words
Of pain?
Of suffering?

Must He chronicle the tears,
The broken road?
Must He foreshadow
The shadows of death?

Must He pen cries
Of fear
And want?
Must He chant
Mournful songs
Through the mouths of His characters?

The Author picks up His pen
And begins.
Yes,
He writes the painful stories.
The parts of the work that some might consider
Bad.

But He pens the story
In His beautiful script,
Knowingly.

He smiles.
He's aware

That without the bad
The story’s for naught.
How can the reader sense
Dramatic need
If all is well?

The Author picks up His pen
And writes.
Stories both good and bad.
For the story is
All
About contrast.

For how can good
Be good
Without bad?

The Author picks up His pen
And smiles.
His characters relax.

He may put them through times of sorrow
Of disappointment,
Of grief.
But He is still
The Author of their incredible story.
Blending joy and peace
Into a perfect plot.

A plot
Where both good and bad
Fade into good
Because of His loving touch.

The Author picks up His pen
With authority.
This is His story
All is well.

He Covers Me

He Covers Me

The battle's on
The bullets fly.
I hear the wounded's
Desperate cry.
I trust.
I pray.
I know.
I see.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

He aims, so sure,
At Pain and Fear.
Only lets them shoot
To drive me near.
I run
Toward Him.
I hide.
I flee.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Though some may wound me,
Close beside,
Yes, even in me
He abides!
I heal.
I seek
His face,
His peace.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

I cannot help but joy
For He
From my pain
Sets me free!
I sing.
I rest.
I simply
BE.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Covered With Your Hand

The little one runs, cries,
“Why must life be so hard? Why?
Daddy, help me! Daddy! Daddy!
The World is hurting me, again; won’t you get onto Him?
He only laughs when I cry, only mocks me. Daddy, why?
Daddy, hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!
He thinks it’s wonderful when I fear; He tells me that You are not here.
He hopes he can make me believe that You will soon pick up and leave.
Daddy, hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy!
He paints the future dark, and shouts, “Your Dad will break your heart.”
He bids me worry, never trust, for then my dreams might turn to dust.
Daddy, hear me! Hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy!”
But then you speak, I know I am
Covered With Your Hand:
Heard, hugged,
Held, helped,
Safe.



*** This poem was originally created in the shape of a hand, but the formatting would not remain once transferred to the blog.

Little Girl's Feet

Little Girl's Feet
For K.S., a God-sent friend


Little girl's feet:
Dancing, singing, skipping,
Laughing over the meadow.

Unexpectedly...
Pain.
Exposure.
Tears.

Little girl's heart:
Hiding, confused, crying,
Shared with no one.

Meanwhile...
Anger.
Shame.
Fear.

Big girl's mind:
Running, fleeing, covering
Pain with sin.

A friend...
Shares.
Stays
Near.

Big girl's pain:
Spilling, showing, healing
By His hand.

She is
Held
Safe
There.

Big girl's peace:
Growing, resting, reaching
Through the days.

Because of
God.
Her friend.
And prayer.

Little girl's feet:
Dancing, singing, skipping
Like's hind's feet.

Hind's feet
Laughing over the mountains.

Kroger Catastrophe

Kroger Catastrophe

Growing up in a large family, I became accustomed to the long stares and the open-mouthed astonishment we received as people confirmed that we were, indeed, one big family. There was one part of that attention that I could never seem to get over, however—the comments in the grocery store.

Sent to the store one day by my mom because of a great sale on milk and eggs, I pulled a cart from the bin and started off through the door. Here’s to a few seconds of seeming normal, I thought, dryly. I noticed the smell of fresh strawberries as I passed them on my way to the lettuce. I grabbed three heads of lettuce and two heads of the nearby cabbage. There. First astonished look of the day.

Moving on through my shopping, I quickly filled my cart. I called my mom often to check prices and the integrity of sales. Even though people watched openmouthed as I picked up bag after bag of pretzels, I continued loading the attention-drawing, crackling, plastic bags into my cart until I had a total of twelve. Didn’t those strangers know that sales are the only things that keep large families’ grocery bills to amounting to more than the National Debt?

After thirty minutes, I had, much to my relief and delight, reached the last row of the store. This is the point where I always notice the scuffs on the floor as I pass other shoppers. Nevertheless, I walked up to the egg display. The cool air permeating the area matched the cold and blank stares I felt I was receiving. For a moment, no other shoppers seemed nearby. I grasped the opportunity and called my mom. “Mama, I got six gallons of milk and eight dozen eggs. Is that all you wanted?”

Suddenly, I felt eyes burning through my back. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw a petite, elderly lady. Her cart was filled with various things: a bunch of three small bananas, a tiny jar of salt, a lone apple, a miniature bag of Uncle Ben’s rice, a pouch of Pillsbury cookie dough, and a mere quart of milk. As she placed her half-dozen crate of eggs into her cart with her meager supply, she stared at me and my cart like she was seeing one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

I smiled sheepishly as I hurried off to the checkout line with my elephant-sized lot and tried to imagine my cart from the elderly lady’s point of view: a single cart, a single girl, and heaps and heaps of groceries.

Nearing the checkout lines, I remembered that the U-scan checkout’s policy had been changed. I frowned at the new “20 items or less” sign swaying above me and groaned inwardly as I realized I would have to face a cashier. I found a check-out line and began unloading. As I did, I had to chuckle. Compared to the elderly lady’s cart, mine was abundantly abounding. Instead of three bananas, I had nine. Salt had been on sale, and I had three large containers. I had the twelve bags of pretzels, ten bags of bagels, nine boxes of various cereals, six gallons of milk, and frozen vegetables galore. Seven cans of tomato sauce, ten cans of peaches, and ten cans of fruit cocktail were precariously stacked to reserve space. Eight dozen eggs were carefully placed in various spaces throughout the cart, and I hoped none would be broken. Finally, three heads of lettuce and two heads of cabbage made a green mountain in the toddler’s seat and one 24-roll package of toilet paper was balanced on the bottom rack of the cart.

As I watched the belt roll my items toward the teenage cashier, I wished I could hide under the belt or among the masses of groceries. The girl behind the counter smiled sweetly at me and said, “Do y’all like eggs?” It was all I could do to have confidence like I emptied the egg display everyday of my life as I replied, “As a matter of fact, we do.” The cashier raised her eyebrows incredulously, snapped her gum, and scanned the last dozen.

There are only a few more things, I told myself, reaching for my purse. I heard the cashier sigh in frustration. The toilet paper bar-code was not registering. I groaned inwardly. People were starting to pile up behind me in line about as bad as my groceries were piled up in my cart. Conspicuous could not rightly describe how I felt. The cashier, frustrated, slid the package across the scanner once more. As she did, the plastic packaging caught on the side of the scanner and tore. At this point, I didn’t care. The girl and I sighed simultaneously as the item rung-up correctly. I placed the toilet paper back on the bottom rack of my cart, paid, and headed for the door. I just wanted to go home!
As I neared the door, my heart sank even more. It was raining. I was barely outside the door before the toilet paper package began sliding off the cart. A man commented as he passed, “You might not want to leave that on the bottom.”
Oh really. I thought. Thanks for the tip, but what else am I to do? I just want to go home!
I stubbornly pushed the package back on the cart, tried to act like I dealt with toilet paper packages falling off my grocery cart every day, wiped the raindrops off my face, and started again for my car on the far end of the parking lot. I thought I was doing pretty well, the package having not fallen off the front, when I rounded the line of vehicles and my little car came into view. Until my toe hit something. I looked down and froze.

There lay an empty toilet paper roll.

I closed my eyes and turned around slowly. The moment seemed like an eternity as I looked up and saw the white line stretching between my cart and the front door of the store. Awkwardly, I grinned my bravest grin at the elderly man in a wheelchair nearby, who was regarding my plight with amusement. He burst out in a large laugh. I couldn’t help thinking that he looked like Santa, minus the red and white suit. Good thing I was too old to go on his naughty list.
After putting my groceries in the trunk of the car and returning my cart, I retraced my steps, very embarrassed. I never knew how much toilet paper is actually on a double roll. The wet, sticky paper clung to my fingers, taunting me. In my humiliation, the car motors in the parking lot even seemed to be laughing at my quandary. Little children pointed and stared; their parents openly stared with them.

Finally finished picking up the seemingly endless line, I threw the big white ball into a nearby recycle bin. Maybe that would make my predicament look a little better! As soon as I saw the toilet paper disappear into the bin, I ran for the car.
When I was finally out of the reach of curious eyes, I sighed. And to think that they have that on the security camera! I thought, inwardly cringing. For a moment, I felt like crying; instead, I burst into uncontrollable giggles! I will never get used to the grocery store thing. Yes, well-meaning on lookers might survey my cart with astonishment and occasional disdain. Yes, I might have embarrassing moments. Yes, compared to their cart, my cart might look like it’s going to feed the entire United States Army. And yet, my grocery store experiences reflect one thing that I love: I am part of a wonderful family of nine. In light of my family – our closeness, our good times, our bad times - a few minutes of embarrassment in the grocery store is a trifle. Well worth the awkward moments, life in a large family is a never-predictable adventure.

Published in The Stonepile Writer's Anthology, December 2010. For information visit: http://upnorthgeorgia.org/

Nothing but Peace

Nothing but Peace

A bush, a tree, a lie, a wall,
Anything to hide behind.
Anything, anything,
Distract my mind.

In my path
Directly
Painful things.
Why God?

"To bring you peace.

For painful things,
My child,
With the stamp of My approval
Are good.

Look and see--

You with Dove's Eyes
Look and see!
What I've created
Is good!"

No bush, no tree, no lie, no wall,
Nothing to hide behind.
Nothing, nothing,
But peaceful mind.