Never left nor forsaken

God, thank You for holding me

In Your arms, like Amy holds Oliver

Thank You, because You will never leave us

Nor forsake us.

Thank You because walk through us

Literally, by pumping blood to our muscles and giving them strength

And spiritually, by transforming our hearts and minds.

That You walk with us, side by side

Through our fears and aches

Through our joys and excitements

At the end of the day, who can I turn to?

The One that will not leave me nor forsake me.

I thank You that You cry our tears

And You’re in our corner,

and You got our back

I thank You that You comfort us

“Come, be my child,”  You say

And I surrender to Your loving arms

I want to be in Your presense, Your beloved

Always and forever.

“Will you trust me?” You ask

I come running back

Perfect love drives out fear, if we receive it

Let me be Your blessed one, here, and there, and everywhere

One year ago, I asked “what does it mean to love God?”

Now, I write Him praises

I understand, He will never leave me

Neither in life nor in death

“We are the lucky ones,” Lecrae says

“And you give us second chances, when we throw our hands up”.

We are the blessed ones

The ones He wants to hold in His arms, whom He will never forsake.

Thank You, God, that You don’t forget us,

Never reject us,

Never neglect us.

Thank You for giving me Your shoulder to rest my head on

And snuggle up against.

Thank You for the warmth You’ve placed in my heart

And that You never gave up on me.

As I grow older, I realize it more and more

I am Your child. 

Work

Stuffy, buttoned up, bad posture,

New hair styles, rare eye contact

Reclining in modern office chairs, but far from relaxed

We are hungry, we are weak,

We are monotone and bleak

We wear the right shirts,

And we say the right words,

Day after day

But not in the right voice,

And with only half of the right heart.

We dish out advice that someone should give us

I make a living loving people,

Supposedly helping them to repair their lives

The work is God’s, the work is good

But I would be lying if I said there aren’t times

Where my own preoccupations and questions aren’t at the center of my mind

Leaving the clients in second place

Am I really God’s instrument?

We gather round and complain

Roll our eyes and turn to our cellphones, to text or call others as an escape

We sigh and grow older

Billable hour after billable hour,

Weeks and months and quarters of appointments and units of productivity gone by

Is life wasted, or is this the only way to live?

Are we in the same rat race as corporate America, disguised as the fresh and new alternative?

We hold babies, and nag the ones on whom we depend

Make jokes out of our fears,

Send out inspiration and avoid checking our emails

Advocating self-care and neglecting ourselves.

I have been putting off scheduling a physical and seeing a dentist for over a year.

We teach about God’s faithfulness but don’t call back the folks who  test ours.

Have we lost the hope, the spark, the Life in the work?

Where are the fruits of the spirit?

Are we all jaded?

Overbooked with people, yet lonely

Busy, yet bored and useless

Barely grasping the hope

And allowing it to slip out of our hands as we rush off?

 Or is it just me?

We eat big blown up fruit with little nutrients

And give big blown up greetings with little substance

How can we stop being busy and start being?

And start hoping instead of teaching hope?

How can we love with our hearts and every fiber of our being

Instead of just officially?

Nobody knows

    

Nobody knows what you would have said, but held back

Nobody knows what silent struggles their neighbors have overcome

Nobody knows how many accidents have been prevented,

How many deaths you would have experienced but didn’t

How many times our lives could have been overturned

Nobody knows what cancers they didn’t get

Or who didn’t break their hearts because they didn’t meet

Nobody knows how much hatred and insecurity we hide behind our fronts

Nobody knows what would have happened if they took Irving street instead of Harvard to get to Michigan Ave that one night

Nobody knows the worlds we make up in our minds

Nobody knows the tomorrow that may have been

Nobody knows what beauty they would have experienced in life

But didn’t,

So there would be space for the one that was intended to be.

Spring is coming.

It’s me, myself and I ,

And some South African wine,

On the brown leather couch that Megan so graciously donated.

The indoor air is warm enough,

But it is too quiet.

I will accept it;

I can do all things through God who strengthens me.

 

Spring is coming,

And soon enough weeks will have rushed past,

If the globe keeps turning as it has been,

February will soon be gone, like many months before it.

 

Another gray day, but spring is coming

Cutting through between winter and summer

Like a train track  pierces through a landscape

Spring is coming.

Take that as you will.