I've Been Distracted

I've Been Distracted

(“I made Your name known to them and will make it known, so the love You have loved Me with may be in them and I may be in them.” John 17:26)

I’ve carried my share, the load, plus time, plus weighty thinking,
have worn me down the month, this week, this day, this moment.
I’ve missed the trail occasionally, like a house pup off the leash
for the first time,
following new scents into the brush, stopping at worms and grubs,
chasing bluebirds and making friends with squirrels in the trees.

I admit I’ve been distracted.

I carried my pack the distance, and though I’ve heard you say
Your love dwells within me, I can no longer go the distance.
Do you see this building You’ve asked me to erect?
Do you see it go up a story or two? Do you see me rejoice
that my work still has meaning? Then, do you see workers
leave, wallboard crumble, while I can stumble at only half
my previous speed?

There is nothing I want more than to carry this load to
the finish line. But, as the path ascends drawing deeper
breaths from aching legs, my work descends drawing
longer tears from stumbling knees. I wish I could lay there
and a Samaritan would see the invisible crush of weight,
the slow-poke and quick-wincing traits caused by the
unseen pain. And my eyes are dark within a 6-sided
box lined with lead.

Though You say, Jesus, my Only Hope, my Only Day,
I would wither away, hollow and floating upon the next
offshore breeze;
but You have me cornered, my final job I believe; and

I am failing miserably. Pain the narcotic, depression the poison,
time the deduction that have stolen the steam-rolled magic
and dependence that created followers and friends forever.
My heart is now well-walled (I am deeply sorry) and frightened.

It is late in the day, so late, and the chilly winds are blowing before
I may never see another summer. I beg You my Best Father/Mother,
give me the one gift just one more time. Align your love in me,
the gifts you’ve grace in me, and let nothing but grace pour,
please, I will not let you go until I know you have heard me!
Please! Let the grace pour out…not a trickle, not a shaky hand
wet with sweat. Let it flood every encounter so no one remembers
my name or place of birth, but only the sweet, sweet flavor of
their hearts’ longing, the playful innocence and significance
that heals their daily hurts and sates all its hungers.