Friday, October 26, 2012

Holy Moments



Plastic pink crown  
Perched atop french braids.   
She wears a yellow tulle gown. 
Fuschia-painted toes 
Tightly pressed into Belle high-heels, 
Click-clacking the hallways. 
She’s begging attention-- 
To be called lovely, adored, beloved. 
She calls out, Daddy look!, to my man. 
My breath catches in my throat, 
An explosion in my chest. 
For this girl is not our own. 
My man bends down  
And tells her she is indeed  
A princess of the Most High King. 


Dark-haired boy  
Plays hard in the dirt 
Rakes leaves with my boys. 
Awakens fearful in the early hours,   
Turns on the light 
And suits-up in a Batman costume. 
Slumber returns 
With him transformed 
to a super hero. 
Sunrise generates courage 
As I daily notice his eyes avert, 
Secret glances at my man. 
He positions nearby,  
Almost imperceptible 
Small fingertips 
brush my man’s sleeve. 
Shards submerge deep within my heart. 
And I lift prayers to the only Father 
That will never abandon him. 
   


Angelic face 
Framed in honey curls. 
This dear one toddles 
Her chunky diapered legs  
Up and down the halls 
Pushing strollers, 
Cradling baby dolls. 
This one frightened of my man. 
Her past saturated with angry daddies. 
She wants me to hold her. 
Our eyes meet and pink lips part 
The word falls out-- Mama. 
Chubby arms wide open for me. 
My heart unprepared 
For one to call me Mama so soon. 
And I lift prayers 
for her little lips to one day cry Abba 
To the only One who will never hurt her. 
  
 
Blond-haired boy 
Calls choo choo, 
Constructing twain twacks. 
Our den bursting with  
Resurrected wooden pieces  
Hauled from the closet. 
An accumulation  
From Christmases gone by. 
He sleeps with a rainbow  
of primary-colored trains 
Littering the foot of the bed. 
This dear one lives for locomotives. 
Faded memories of my brother, 
My oldest boy, and this new one-- 
The three merging together. 
Chest tight. 
And I call out prayers 
For this sweet one to know  
His Father’s immeasurable love. 
  
  
A 7-year old 
Hides sticky notes  
For me and my man to find. 
This one has suffered losses 
Too many to count. 
He pushes against despair 
And rises each day to hope again— 
Wishing only to go home to his Mom. 
Courage unfolds as he 
Writes what he cannot say-- 
I love you with all my heart 
Scrawled in red crayon,  
Affixed to the back of our bathroom door. 
I press it into my bible 
As a reminder for the days 
When I lose hope. 
And pray he would always know Jesus 
And love Him with all his heart.



Swaddled brown baby 
Lying on my chest 
Wisps of ebony hair 
Brushing my cheek. 
Milk breath and baby toes, 
Fresh faced from her Mama’s womb. 
My children were too little 
To remember 
Each other this way-- 
Helpless and teeny. 
They beg for their turn 
To feed her and hold her. 
She is adored. 
Her future unknown 
And seems scary to us. 
Prayers whispered 
In the middle of the day 
In the dark hours of night 
For this precious bundled one 
To have a future 
Full of His grace.  

I don’t know where 
This journey will carry us. 
My only trust in the the One 
Who led us down this path 
Bringing us to places 
We would never choose. 
We are being uplifted   
By a strength not our own. 
My big kids holding hands
Of tiny ones who have no father. 
And my heart beats 
With longing and hope. 
And I send up prayers 
To the One Father 
Who holds and never lets go.





Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.  James 1:27

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young
Isa 40:11








{photo credit:  sallykatephotography.com}