The Smile Stood Sideways

The Smile Stood Sideways

(“Then he carries it back home. He speaks to all his friends and to the people that live near him. He says, ‘I have found the sheep that I lost. So come to my house and we can all be happy together.’” Luke 15:6)

The smile stood sideways climbing up his face
like a flowering vine, like hibiscus, like morning glories
following the sun. The music overflowed above
the neighborhood fences and filled the street
with anonymous dancers celebrating like summer
had arrived weeks earlier than expected. Even the
babies twirled.
No one refused the invitation,
no one remained alone.
No one made up excuses,
no one showed up full-grown.
When the lost are found our aging
reverses its course and we giggle like children
when a favorite friend walks in the door.

The day was one shade darker until the missing one
is found. The day was nearly done with its light,
fading as the sun began to take its rest. But
we
could not stop the search, we would not until
we found the one we loved, isolated from
all the others we loved. Our hearts were
troubled until we found her, caught between
yesterday and a hundred weeks of looking.

We exploded in joy, a full orchestra of rejoicing;
we carried her back and called everyone we knew.
There are smiles so broad they sit sideways on their faces
because love has completed its journey home.

Smoked Corn

Smoked Corn

I can tell by the way you smile you like the corn
that was smoked on the cob. Spice bites softly,
smoke grounds it, and each kernel is another bubble
of sweetness that combines with the butter in your mouth.
No wonder we talk more together when reaching for
the next bite of burger
grilled just moments ago.

Four adults and a rectangle table. One 2-week-old
baby, soaking up all the attention. Four dogs in our
daughter’s home, plus one alone from our home too.
One ancient cat that barely moves…couch to feed dish…
15 years and fluffy. Wherever she sits is her throne.

Nothing ever goes to waste; the minutes without voices,
potato salad dropped on the floor (that’s what the pack of
dogs is for), and the easy sleep of a baby passed around
the generations at the table.

There was no prayer, but for the bounty before us gratefulness
abounded.
We sang no hymns, but the Baby Man recently entering the world
filled us with song.
And no final benediction, save for hugs and “love-yous” as
we took our leave back home.

There is sanctity in communal meals, there is holiness in the
humility we share;
these bodies do not let us live long at all without
food. We share a table, we share mortality. And so we smile
broader knowing time will not capture us, space will not define us,

And church bells only remind us that eucharist is everywhere
we eat together with seen and unseen guests.

Below the Brainless Clouds

 Below the Brainless Clouds

(“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18)

I could live under the warmth of your smile,
I could live unmanaged and overgrown
while
light keeps pouring from your eyes.

I could drink the bitter root,
I could taste the prisoner’s diet,
I could sweat under incinerated isolation
while
your laugh occupies the rooms I had vacated,
the accolades I felt I never deserved,
the place I could call home.

But I would find it,
the nuclear fusion that beatifies every
dream and every
waking sorrow, the loam that pulls my roots
deeper when I am only sticks and thorns.

I could live below the brainless clouds,
I could live disconnected and stilted
while
the songs you taught me stay
on repeat,
lulling me to sleep to
see your smile again.

Sit With Me a While

 

Sit With Me a While

(“For He has satisfied the thirsty soul, and He has filled the hungry soul with what is good.” Psalm 107:9)

Come sit with me a while,
I need an old friend with a new smile,
a soul who whispers deep when
the darkness creeps up on me.
I need a single scion of joy grafted
to my sighing roots.

I’d trade my troubles for an hour
sitting on a bench by the river
with an old friend who thinks I might
be crazy
but doesn’t care how murky I’ve become,
who only knows that once in a while
forest fires from faraway places can
smoke out the brightest longing for day.

I’ve cried to the God who
I’ve cried to
sooner, bluer, truer and slower,
and fasted days trying to replace the
unwieldy shivering that ran from heart
to brain
to feet
to deeds;
still I felt like dying after one falling star
of insight crash-landed in the atmosphere.

I just need someone here,
a hand I recognize,
a voice with suspended disbelief
to quiver like my own. I would have
arrived here quicker
but I staged my faith with memorized lines
waiting for the next cue to mark my entrance.

Now, no stage, no script, no audience, no
performance-ready music to wow anyone but
myself. And I am my harshest critic.

Come sit with me awhile,
I am thirsty for God but
the only spiritual experience I ever had
was joy with humans who remember that
laughing and crying
are tongues of fire that
can ignite a friendship deeper
than preaching or praying
all night.

Come sit with me a while;
and by

A while

I mean, as long as I need. Please,
do not leave until both our cups are
empty
and both our cups are filled.

Smile on Us

Smile on Us

“O God, restore us! Smile on us! Then we will be delivered!” Psalm 80:3

Whose smile are you missing today? Perhaps the brightness of a loved one who passed away? Perhaps a friend, still living, whom you have not seen for far too long? My mother had one of the biggest smiles in the world. It helped, I suppose, that her mouth spread across half her face. And, when she smiled…she smiled full throttle. Her eyes would sparkle, the corners of her mouth stretching nearly ear to ear revealed her teeth in unabashed display. If you caught her in one of those moments, you knew the world was right again.

Perhaps the reason my mother’s smile meant so much is that, as her child, I longed for her approval. You rarely needed to ask her what she was feeling; it was written across her face. All of us want esteem and support from the important people in our lives.

There are times when our hearts wane in our love for Christ. In one sense, that is to be expected. We are humans with normal emotions that can rise and fall with the events of the day or the current chemical makeup in our brains. But, when a long season sets in where we are complacent in our longings for Him, we need to pray as the Psalmist does here.

“O God, restore us!” There is an admission here that, left to ourselves, we would continue in the doldrums. The Psalmist does not say, “Here I come…running back to you,” as good as that impulse would be. He recognizes the need for the inner spark that only God Himself can provide.

Don’t misunderstand this. If you need someone’s help to ignite a burn pile, for instance, you don’t call on them to help, and then drench your pile of branches with water just before your friend arrives. You put yourself in the best position possible to respond to their promised help.

So it is when our interests in God’s good gift in Christ has waned. We do well to cry out, “Restore me!” But then we must awaken our own lagging passions. Even the slightest movement back toward God is received from Him as love itself. The Prodigal Son, after spending all his father’s inheritance on selfish pleasures, finally decides to go back home because he can at least get a good meal there.

We cannot judge how pure the son’s confession was. But, we do know that when the father saw his son coming up the driveway he rushed from the front porch and hugged him close, before the son ever confessed a thing.

God doesn’t want us cringing when we grow spiritually drowsy. Even if our life with Him has become completely lazy, His greatest desire is to welcome us back our home with Him. That is why the Psalmist asks for God’s smile.

When we are distant from Him life becomes frightening and full of danger in our minds. We pray, “How long will you remain angry at your people while they pray to you?” (verse 4) When we are not assured of God’s love and protection, then every difficulty seems like evidence that He no longer cares. When we should see His smile, we see His frown.

In some ways it may be true that God withdraws from us at times when we are in the doldrums. But, if He does, it is only to allow our hearts to long for Him anew. He is not punishing, but He is letting us know the hollowness of life without experiencing His constant presence. If His momentary “absence” causes us to arise and ask for Him to restore us again, then we delight in the reunion with our Beloved.

Don’t be afraid to acknowledge a bit of spiritual slumber. The disciples fell asleep at Jesus’ darkest hour, right? You’re in good company. Jesus asked them, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you won’t be tested.” Get up, ask Him to restore you and seek His smile again.

The Psalmist knew the Lord was his only hope for being “delivered”. Believe me, I know the forces that can keep us from taking the first simple spiritual restoration. Chronic pain is a barrier that can dull not only physical and emotional senses, but spiritual ones as well. I have learned (or am learning) the necessity of the constant cry, “O God, restore me!” That is one prayer He always answers.

Find His smile again. Do what you did when you first knew His love. Begin again, you will find Him as gracious as ever. You will find Him strong enough to bear your weakness.

A Mumbled Lunch

A Mumbled Lunch

(“Then he prepared an inner sanctuary within the house in order to place there the ark of the covenant of the Lord.” 1 Kings 6:19)

They turned the dial and hoped it would stem the tide,
Instead they found the show was over, and cried
when the jokers turned around, and joined the clowns who frowned
at the way the whole operation went down.

The prophets and politicians raised their hopes and expectations
with fire and ice, avalanche and imprecise references to
the Day of the Lord, Armageddon, or the Flaming Horse of Red,
or the poet without his hat on. They all missed the boat,
and never bothered to vote upon the gentle waters of northern lakes.

They faked the news, and made up more,
They repay the rich for every endorsement,
While the guests and the poor suffer strict enforcement
of every line in the book,
every book, line and baited, still dangling
from the fisherman’s hand, still tangling.
No one waited to see if
the fish were jumping. The stumps were free
but the stamps prevented the letter from arriving.

I’ve seen you smile like a Christian lad in church,
and follow it, hollow and shallow, with a mumbled lunch
of sandwiches, sandals, and offers to identify the demons
behind the scandals that only happened
once the newspapers lost their business.

Leave the old man neatly dead. I mean fully rotted,
breathless, pulseless and abrupt.
The new wardrobe fits better instead. I mean fully hand-sewn,
tailored, perfect and ageless.

The dial will not fit your hand, the tide will ebb and flow
as it did yesterday, last week, last month, a century ago.
So when you raise your voice, raise it loud; be certain
(oh proud and curtained breath), that all you know
is less than all that is.

Since we must take the taxi (we called ahead)
let us share the seat, spare the chatter and,
turn by turn, ask the driver what is the matter,
and why the widespread gossip has
pulled our planet so far from its orbit.