You know, you touch this part
Of my fearful doubting heart
That has been hammered by a Word
of restoration and promise I heard
but did not understand.
The problem is a brand
of the wisdom of women and men,
a knowledge forged in God forsaken
pursuits to wrest control of one's life
admist the din of the relentless strife
that echoes inside, 'There must be
more to life than what I can see'.
And you, dear one, have no place
there in this cruel, punishing race.
You, I am told, will hold us back
from dreams and make us lack
the things that promise pleasure.
But no, no, no, NO, my treasure
and your father's tender hope,
you will not bind or interlope,
nor will you be the face of our fear,
you will be the balm of One  more near
to us that we ever could comprehend,
the best gift the Father could send.
You are what we need
to strengthen every deed,
the good works planned in advance
for us to do before we had a chance
to say, "No, this is better'
and grasp a sorry fetter.



Someone told me today that children are God's gift. I heard the sounds of the words but they found no purchase in my heart. Till I thought of gifts. Gifts are meant to enhance us and not diminish us. And yet how easily we believe that children diminish something of who we are. I am ashamed of this secret thought which would have found no place in my mother's heart nor my grandmother's... nor of any lover of Christ's. Yet it is there in mine and I have laid it on the altar... and I pray that Christ will lay it in the grave of all that once was 'ME'.