glass

The Christmas Bauble

Bauble shards glimmered in the cold light

Tinsel strewn in ancient ritual

And only an hour before they all arrive

Mary sat amongst the broken glass

Her arm skewed in a ragdoll way

The rainbow of colour danced across her face

In a cruel waltz that reflected her life

Jamie stood in the doorway

Smirking down at the mess

And his wife broken before him.

 

The family arrived into a tidy, clean house

Mary’s arm strapped up for now

Even the gravy did not belie

The undertones of the house that day

They chatted and gossiped about sundry and all

Jamie was mine host extraordinaire

Mary the cook, barely sat down

When it was time for the contingent to leave

The tree looked elegant sans baubles this day

As everyone ignored the nuance and tone.

 

Please think of those not having a “Happy Christmas” this year

glass

Love {arrived}

van-gogh-nativity.jpgThe thing is …

No that won’t work

 

Joe, Joey, my beautiful man

God says I’m pregnant

O Lord give me the words

 

I get it, the whole angel thing

I really do -but Joseph

 

Lord he’s a chippy not a theologian

How is he going to understand?

 

~~

Mary, my Mary my sweet angel girl

She is still sweet

 

The angel dude he visited me too

Explained it all so even I could take it in.

We are having a baby… Whoo hoo.

 

~~

two thousand years of literal and liberal,

of conservative and radical

 

there are some who believe the incarnation

and there are some that doubt

just as some scoff at creation

 

and here’s their deal – the argument they say

Mary lied to cover an indiscretion

 

How could the Messiah be born

In such a lowly way

To a peasant girl in Bethlehem

 

~~

Me – I’m all in, believe the whole thing

Creation, Fall, Rebellion, Redemption

 

And the best bit, as in any story

In the last few paragraphs …

Of a city, a hill and no more sorrow.

Random {chat} between sisters

Me:

What is in the hampers?

Friend:

Two bottles of wine, a bottle is spirits, a box chocolates and/or biscuits. I’ll see what comes tomorrow when the delivery arrives.

Me:

really??? wow… we could never do that

Friend:

Hampers aimed at non Christians. They have money too!

Me:

I know, I am not judging, just comparing what we do here

to what you do there

Friend:

The joy of different churches.

Still. You get to preach and lead. I don’t. Different strokes.

Mer:

I guess I prefer my side of the fence then

On {strike}

strike it once,

strike it twice,

what’s so wrong in striking rock

 

talk at table

of striking miners

and Fidel Castro

 

strike it once

strike it twice

what’s so wrong in striking rock

 

politick of youth

so very long ago

no work on Maggie’s farm

 

strike it once

strike it twice

what’s so wrong in striking rock

 

perspective and reflection

two powerful God given tools

left and right, nada

 

strike it once

strike it twice

what’s so wrong in striking rock

 

clarity attained

it’s God’s will in His way

No only ever could

 

strike it once

overstate with twice

stretch your neck out on the block

 

Moses what were you thinking

Disobedience at the end

Sad but painfully true.

 

 

Sky Path

Who worked the path

That I traverse

To make it easier – for me

 

I love to look up

Into the inky black sky

A rainbow collar around the moon

White shiny dots

Outline the plough

And the guy for archery

 

Sometimes even planets

Are seen but I know nothing of these

I see only pinhole camera dots

 

Filled with wonder

Full of awe

At the hands that threw those lights into space

And who made my heart His home

Someone told me about the deathstars

Bright shining lights signalling death

 

One night two years ago

I saw a shooting star

Drop from the sky

 

Billy sang it was a satellite

And he wished you cared

But I saw it shoot

And I did not wish anything

As it fell down straight.

To you though, my love, my friend

 

I look forward to spending time with you

Your mission field was a small patch of land

Seeds planted in each new child

 

I wonder do the others

Bear their seeds on their path

Maybe if I looked horizontal and not up

I would see across the meadow

Or see pairs of oxen too

Evenly yoked through history

 

The people came before and are yet to come

The ones who surround me now

The crowd of witnesses from the field

 

Bringing us all

Closer to Thee O Lord

Closer to Thee.

Following the boat

I had an epiphany on the M50 yesterday. I suddenly wanted to do something different. I wanted to start following the boat. It was on a flatbed, an old cranky boat with a ripped starboard.

It was older than a starboard boat. I remember playing a game called Port or Starboard as a child with bruised shins. I don’t think the game came from centuries ago but I think the boat might.

I was driving so I don’t have a picture. Smudge tried and failed to get an in focus picture of the boat but got a lovely side view of my melanoma and double chin. We had been to the hospital and had new hope and a new doctor. Things could change.

We discussed what the doctor said and the procedures he wanted to perform on Smudge. I mentioned the daily injections and that is when he hit me. Not literally… he said he might not go back to college.

The boat came passed, we were going to Dundrum to find Jamie’s restaurant for a massive treat. But I started following the boat. And I asked him, “shall we just follow the boat?”

He said, “we can’t do that, we have to go home, you have things to do.” But I just kept on following that boat. Every now and then he tried to persuade me that going home would be okay. But just for that moment I did not want to deal with church stuff, home stuff, college stuff. I just wanted to follow what looked like a Viking longboat and never deal with my stuff again.

I had been studying Psalm 46, with the intention of writing a sermon. But it all went south, yesterday. I know God is with me, I know I can be still and let God work in situations, I know he is ever-present and I know being Christian does not mean everything becomes easy.

But just for that moment I wanted to follow the boat and never go home. A few weeks ago I was at a coach station in a European city and I {almost} got on a bus going anywhere else but home. Then I was at an airport and I wanted to fly away to anywhere.

There was just so much to think about , so much to deal with and now Smudge may not go back to university. My lovely ring-fenced days off are gone. Hospitals, doctors and canteen coffee loom on the horizon and beluga caviar. I just want to follow the boat. And the empty nest Sean & I were looking forward to became technical once more.

I thought of the story told of the God who dances in potato chips and I remembered. I remembered who I am, I remembered why I was at college, why I had been fired, why I bend like a reed to help Smudge, why I have become protective of people, why I have been placed where I have been placed.

The transient thought of following the boat passed and I turned to go home. Smudge went to sleep. All is quiet, all is well. “Be still and know I am God.”