Final Grade

Final Grade

(“You scratch out God’s Word and scrawl a whim in its place.” Mark 7:13 [The Message])

I asked how I rated and received a B plus in parenting,
And my wife was a half point better.
The moment I asked I knew I should never have spoken
such silliness of ranking my fatherly skill. If ever I desired
to excel beyond excelling it was parent to child.

You can tell me it’s not a race, not a competitive exercise for
placement to a school of higher learning. But I’ve forgotten my SAT scores,
and my IQ no longer applies, my grade point average is aging
across the lonely canyons I’ve already crossed. My salary is the
same as my salary 20 years ago, and my place on the ladder of achievement
remains unchanged as well.

I needed one more A to make the grade,
one more certificate to hang to make the sadness fade,
(please allow me some extra credit, another project to push me to the top).
You are my credentials and I hoped to do more than pass.

I should not cry over a score that is more than most would beg,
I should not do a lot of things I find blasting their way down into
the rules I’ve written all over the walls of my cell.

I’ve scratched out a few (few know) of the truest Words spoken
and admit my dance remains slightly tilted; still I hoped
for a better grade, an A, a report card to display to say
I had done the one thing I wished to do well, I had done the one thing
the best of all.