Tuesday

morning

Scattered awakenings
Quiet words spoken around the table
A morning message
From a neighborhood pastor


the work day

Cement poured
A sidewalk built
Drain installed
Roof resurfaced

Relationships, old and new,
Explored and empowered


evening

Reflection, conversations
Listen, and listen again
Words, songs, prayers
Rest, sleep, peace

conclusion

Goals accomplished
Finished projects
Friendships built
And memories shared

Puggy’s House (That’s Not True)

We spend the day
At Puggy’s House
Listening to stories
Of playing along side
“…famous people…”
Ray Charles and others
“…that you wouldn’t care about.”

He speaks of being thirteen
And making his first recording
“…you know,
(drawing a large circle with his hands)
A big, black record.”
He’s been told it’s on the Internet
But he doesn’t have that

Puggy says
That some people
Say they don’t like his music
“That’s not true,”
Puggy says.
“When I see their foot tap,
I know I got ‘em.”

We climb a rickety ladder
Two stories to strip
A hundred years and untold layers
Of gummy, enmeshed tar paper
From his aged roof
We’ll finish tomorrow
The stripping, at least



Pittsburgh 2011 mission trip
Day 3, Monday

Church

Church, real church
Wall of sound
Flash of motion
Joy ignites my heart
Passion joins soul and flesh
As songs go on and on

Then the preacher begins
With a delicate whisper that turns
To a holy rage
As the congregation
Stands, claps, shakes
They holler their praise

And then there’s more
Always more

The preacher and the band
A seamless blend of
Prophetic words and
Pulsating sounds
I am enveloped, all of me
And then it’s done


Pittsburgh 2011 day 2

After a morning at Mt Ararat Baptist Church

Outbound

Anxious anticipation
Over preparation

Restless sleep
Early rising

Quick goodbyes
Peaceful drive

Intense transition
Stragglers arrive

Rude employee
Endless lines

Flight delayed
No surprise

I’m Ready

I promised Mom if she grounded me one more time that I was leaving. She never believed me. You gotta understand…a fourth grader can only take so much.

And don’t think I’m stupid. I’ve been preparing. I started saving my allowance and hiding granola bars. Thinking of what to take, where to go. I’m planning.

Parents are meeting with the teacher tonight, getting my grades. I know what’s coming. Two weeks of no TV, no games, no friends after school. Study time.

Can’t do it. Tomorrow, after school, when she sends me to my room, it’s time for action. I’m ready.

Lent, again -- a poem for Ash Wednesday

i have posted this before as a reflection on my learning and living within the season Lent.

Lent, again

Small Baptist church
Edge of the city
Family farms were gone
Ever widening streets
Car lots and early stage
Of strip malls
Good people
Almost "country folk"
My mom's people

They knew the Bible
They loved it
They tried to live it
No creeds or rituals so
They believed

Lent was bad, almost evil
Empty routine of
False religion
Catholics and Lutherans
Maybe some others so
Far from faith

Home is not so distant
Four or five hours down the freeway
Decades later, now about four

Yearly ashes to my forehead
The joy of sorrow
The smudge of death
The touch of some pastor
I hardly know

What was once forbidden
Now is my food, my life

I worry for a moment that I may later see
Someone I know at the
Store who won't understand

Six weeks Wednesday at noon
Sitting with Glenn
Sometimes others join us
A hymn or two
Short sermon
Some good, some not
Prayer

Lunch in the basement
Church cookbook casserole
Creamy salad
Water or tea
Neither of us drink coffee

Talk of family and sports
Maybe the sermon
Church friends and politics
Work updates
We say our goodbyes

Giving up something, maybe
Remembering, anything to help

Holy Week, the beginning with
Sword ferns posing as palms
Maundy Thursday
It took a long time to
Understand the "Maundy"
Good Friday
It's trite,
But who ever thought to
Call it "good?"
The dark, quiet and waiting

Easter and
It's over
Day of joy
Get my life back, again
Not sure I want it
At this cost
The seasons end

I hope it will come again
Next year
Or maybe, I hope
I'll be here next year
To remember that
It happened
Jesus suffered
And I live

Someone Else’s Story

It would be news, if it weren’t so common.

Local kid makes good. Until another small business fails. A lifetime’s dreams evaporate into legal arguments and red ink. Credit card living bleeds into personal bankruptcy. Divorce and distance from the kids; a typical chapter of this story. Suicidal thoughts fluctuate with counseling appointments and an increased dosage. Until the insurance dries up. A boarded building, an empty house. Another body in line at the mission. The one they used to ignore on the drive to work.

But it’s a recession. These things happen. They’re just supposed to happen to someone else.


In honor of Project Homeless Connect Thursday March 3 in Bellingham.


http://www.whatcomvolunteer.org/events/project-homeless-connect/