My Name Is Martha

My name is Martha.

My sister is Mary.

We both love the Lord.

She sits at His feet;

The do-nothing

Won't help me

As guests arrive.

A table needs spreading!

"Lord!"  I call.

"Lord!"  He answers,

"Mary knows

What's best."

I'm convicted.

I'm convinced.

I'm saved.

Luke 10:38-42

Many Years More

   

So ready for bed

Not ready for sleep

I find myself praying

That You, my soul keeps

As facing decisions

Keeps me uncertain

As how to bring hope

And raise looming curtain

On what would be final.

Yet, prayers, encored, plea

For many years more,

For many years, please?

Oh, that I could adore

For many years more!

I Am

I Am the same

Today, tomorrow,

I Am the joy

In the midst of sorrow.

I Am the way,

The truth, the life;

Comfort in

Your pain and strife.

Not forgotten,

Not mistaken,

You, my child,

Are not forsaken.

Soul awaken

To my plea

That by my side

You'll always be.

Lullabye

I cradle you

In the crook of one arm

Behold your face

Eyes peacefully closed.  Hands

Reaching for stars

And tears imagined, fought,

Fall, comfort

Given in the here, now.

In peace, you sleep.

God, your soul safe, will keep.

Sleep, baby, sleep.

Sleep, baby, sleep.

Twelve Weeks

Twelve weeks

Not possible

Nor probable

Twelve weeks

Year's quarter

Time measured

Death's date

Grieving

Nine months

Rejoicing

Coming soon

Rejoicing

One departs

One arrives

Born to live

Born to die

Soul alive

Soul alive

A Prayer for Today

Loose cannon

Gunning for victory

Leaves in wake

Abominable history

For seekers

Of His truth.

Loose, Lord,

Your Word, divine.

Make it theirs

Make it mine.

Memorial Day

It is Memorial Day

And I have dutifully purchased

Set of flags for my father's

Gravestone.  A memorial

My mother has yet to see

In person, for it hurts.

A blow from a bully.  A bullet

Taken for a friend.

The march.  The endless march.

And they fall.  Endless.

The faithful, brave.  It hurts.

She dares not believe he's gone,

Cannot stand before the witness

Of a world crumbling about her.

A world once all about her.

The march has ended.

The flag stands.

And she, my mother, cannot go there,

But stays at home

Baking Amish squares.

Dessert of comfort

For those in need;

Her own heart discomforted.