Skeletons and CPR

“Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to the wind. Prophesy, human, and say to the wind, ‘This is what the Lord God says: Wind, come from the four winds, and breathe on these people who were killed so they can come back to life.’”  So I prophesied as the Lord commanded me. And the breath came into them, and they came to life and stood on their feet, a very large army.” Ezekiel 37:9, 10

I served a number of years as chaplain for our local Emergency Services. Every person on the crew was a volunteer and often was called out in the middle of the night to assist a crisis. From an elderly woman who stumbled down her stairs to a teenage girl with third degree burns over 70 percent of her body, these men and women showed themselves heroes time and time again. It was a privilege to serve them in their own hours of spiritual need.

Boundless Mercy

“All honor to God, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; for it is his boundless mercy that has given us the privilege of being born again so that we are now members of God’s own family. Now we live in the hope of eternal life because Christ rose again from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3

I love a good magic show. Whether it is up-close street magic or a grand staged event, I always enjoy the illusions. As a child I picked up a couple of card tricks and couldn’t wait to spring them on my friends. I had a slight advantage, my dad being and amateur magician. Because of my father’s interest I also read graphic novels (they were called comic books back then) about both Harry Houdini and Harry Blackstone.

The Corner of the Desk

The Corner of the Desk

(“And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven.” James 5:15)

The cardboard box full of neatly folded tissues
is squarely arranged on top of the desk..though…

At its feet, tossed like carnations, the wadded few have
absorbed the tears of honesty, the stories of pain
we hear with uneasy skill.

Do you want to know the valleys, do you care
to listen with love; will you embrace the uncommon tale
baked on the days of withheld rain?

Will they offer you more than a mirror’s image,
will they speak in unknown tongues and await your
uncertain interpretation, will you return their entrusted heart
unharmed? Remember how they entered, completely unarmed;
sat in the corner chair, never broke eye contact with

The corner of the desk.

Will their dreams reset to innocence, or will the scars
we touched set off alarms when incidents of trust sounded
like the screech of eagles scanning prey.

When they hand us, on cold and sweaty palms, the heart traced
with anxieties unspoken countless alones, how will we return the trust
of confessed cracks they’ve kept turned from the sun? Dying is easier
that new incisions over aged scars.

When they hand us, on bent and broken wings, tiny faith
still alive with shallow breath and captured eyes, will we show
our own wounds now

A second Masterpiece;

Filled cracks the brush’s tracks where the Father’s hands
retraced creation’s plans. Day, light, night, sleep are sweet
where the wounds once ruled.

A Different Degree

A Different Degree

When every footprint sinks to a different degree,
displacing the mud or sand beneath the weight of
one single
human being,
we detect the evidence of another life form
to speak and eat with, to smile and tease with,
to joke and to wander the skies from sunset horizon
to midnight apogee. We who walked the same woods alone
turn full circle more than once or twice over, expanding
its diameter three feet at a time to discover
another to break the silence of the hillside forest,

Until turning the last degree, on the periphery of vision
we meet. My heart stops, my hands shake, my mouth so dry
that words are pasted on my tongue and down my throat;
yet so anxious to speak after speaking has nearly been forgotten.

I turn full and final, the circle that meets you eye to face,
and, though no words are spoken, I see you are dressed
far too conservative for me

And turn the circle round with my footprints sinking
to a different degree behind me.

Quiet Wisdom

“Who in your community is understanding and wise? Let his example, which is marked by wisdom and gentleness, blaze a trail for others.” James 3:13

I recently enjoyed lunch with a good friend. As topic flowed into topic the name of a well known Christian leader came up. My friend expressed concern that this leader had become somewhat arrogant in the last few years. Not having followed his ministry recently, I did a bit of research and I now think I understand what she meant. There are ripples of harshness that run through even his public materials.

Between Simple Lines

Between Simple Lines

(“Blessed is the man who endures temptation, for when he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life, which the Lord promised to those who love him.” James 1:12)

Between simple lines drawn upon
new pages in a denim-covered three ring binder
lie the words left behind by soft graphite,
the misspelled connection between mind
and paper.

Grammar may not matter, punctuation only
dots in the appropriate places,
but I have labored to remember faces that
made my breath sweeter for a moment,
my space occupied by more stories than permitted.

The sadness exposes every hand I tried to hold
but withdrew for fear my company or my geography
would finally wear thin. Many I hoped to begin
but never initiated the conversation; I only invested
in sure things.

Do not turn away in the fog; the breeze will reveal
the sharp shadows by afternoon. Do not forget the
names we played; the hills will inscribe
the poetry we drank like wine. Do not forsake
the cord we twined; the hardships have tried
to unravel our young design.

Could I open a cedar box and smell every day
that lined the sidewalk with crepe myrtle
I might dance when the money runs out,
I might laugh at the nervous cancellations,
and
I would certainly wait on the corner where the
tennis courts began to crack, to see
if the same friend I looked for a half hour before
school
still walked the same way home today.