This poetry of Truth
I’m hungry to see and live by.
My poetry of truth,
falling and getting up a thousand times more
and saying ‘sorry’ seventy times again
and letting go hundred forty times to the same.
Taking Light by her hand…
my heart beats
lip-dip, lip-dip…
Ab-ba, Ab-ba, Ab-ba…
I AM, says Truth.
i am says i.
Poetry.
With the eyes of my heart
I desire to see clearly
this love-gift from our Father.
A sacred moment.
Waiting for it, looking to find…
this sacred moment
EVERY moment, sacred.
Mostly, seemingly, so very ordinary…
EVERY moment, sacred.
I want to live it,
with care. with intention. with presence.
To be healed
To be transformed
Me
Us
Creation
ALL
I sat in church while the little Lady nibbled away on her crackers. I only brought three, broke them in small pieces and by the time they were all gone, the sermon ended. A sermon longer than three crackers is too long.
While she nibbled I scribbled down words with a sparkle; when my spirit leaps, I listen.
“He knows your tree…”
The preacher spoke about a fig tree. And about fig leaves which the ashamed couple used to try and hide their ‘shame’, a shame they did not have before. My mind wandered off to the pretty lush, green fig trees we saw in the south of France – big leaves dangling over old stone walls and deliciously sweet purple figs playing hide-and-seek among the leaves. I remembered that they were sweet because we’ve leaned over and picked some, hoping the owners would not see causing us to feel ashamed. The house did look deserted on the rather overgrown piece of land. Beautiful figs turned dark from all day sun and probably no pesticides.
I always said I would love to have a fig tree in my garden to pick from the tree and make delicious fig jam with my mother’s recipe.
The preacher continued about a small little man, really small, and maybe small in people’s eyes (or his own?) because of his work and habits that many seem to know about. Zaccheus, he was called. He was collecting taxes for the government in the days of the man, Jesus of Nazareth. Zac heard this famous man was in the district. Curiosity and smallness had him climb a fig tree, to see. Was it only to see or was it maybe shame having him disappear a bit behind those big green leaves?
Amazingly, this man Jesus chose Zac’s fig tree, stopped and looked up, called him down. No hiding there! How did he know his tree?
Shame has little me climb my beautiful lush green fig tree often, thinking no one would see, no one would notice, but I can still safely look out. Because if those around see me, they might not like what they see because I don’t like what I see and obviously, so does Jesus. (Or so I think.)
But as he knew Zac’s tree, he knows mine and calls me down. The little man had to climb down and his story ended up in the Good Book of Truth because he sat down at the table with Jesus and lived.
Little me must be courageous enough to risk climbing down every time, being seen big as he sees, not imagination-small as I see, eat at his table and live.
I’ve noticed this.
My Mother taught me.
My friend Annie does it.
They almost always start with, “Dankie Here …” thank you Lord. Or “My God, I thank you …”, these Africans and specifically the ‘Afrikaanse Africans’. This thing about gratitude and entering His place with ‘thank you’ on the lips and it lifts the eyes, the spirit eyes!
I’ve noticed that when sister-words like ‘IF YOU had…’ and ‘Could you not…?’ rolls out first thing like sisters Mary and Martha from Bethany said, I have to plant my feet in the soil like my Afrikaanse farming ancestors did and say, “Dankie Here!”, “thank you Lord.”
This morning I had to say, “Dankie Here vir, thank you Lord for #2379 rain stinging my cheeks, #2380 being alone, #2381 wind rushing and howling outside…” (I’m count-numbering my blessings.)
And I bent down to the story about the brother who died but was only sleeping and the two sisters, they said to Jesus, ‘If You had…’.
And then Jesus showed them, us, me, ‘Father I thank Thee that Thou heardest Me. And I knew that Thou hearest Me always…’*
He called and the dead-sleeping man came out and they unbound him.
Thank you Lord for #2384 your spirit in me calling Abba, Father.
Father!
Thank you!
For hearing me,
for ALWAYS hearing me.
Lazarus-Amanda!
John 11
*New American Standard Bible
I’m just taking care of the bird and the house and the plants and the kid.
I’m just doing laundry.
I’m just balancing the books.
I’m just doing the correspondence
and the teacher-man is praying with someone, teaching some truth, learning new skills, visiting different countries, meeting new people.
I’m just visiting my neighbour.
I’m just walking the dog.
I’m just, just, just… always.
But He’s just with me as He is with the teacher-man.
He’s just…
What’s the difference?
Is it what I do or is it that He is with me no matter what, or where?
So, it is not the ‘what’ or ‘where’ that matters. (It might change in an instant anyway.)
But, that He is with me or rather, I’m with-in him, this is what counts.
I just
need to open my eyes – see Him in the here and now, enjoy Him and all the many little presents (Presence) He gives me moment by moment wherever I am whatever I do. Just as He does for the teacher-man.
Matthew 1:23
“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”).
Alexander Venter from South-Africa had us follow his chain of thought.
The century of ‘following’.
We all follow someone or something, especially the social media of twitter and Facebook. Instant contact around the world with the tap of a key or the glide of a finger.
And so many voices luring, begging, declaring, prodding, inviting…
Not to mention the choices! (Teacher-man and I shop at a smaller grocery store because the choice is limited and the reasonably priced products are of good quality.)
Then there is the guru, the hero, the star or the leader to follow.
Because we all ponder these important questions of ‘who am I?’, ‘why am I here?’ and ‘where am I going?’. When do I say yes and when do I say no.
We want to follow… And whatever we pursue, focus on, follow, we become.
We (the teacher-man and I) decided very long ago that we would follow the carpenter from Nazareth, called Jesus because he points to a Father that loves relentlessly. As we continue to live our everyday, not alone but in relationship with every-broken-one around us, we see him, receive his love and change our minds to the way he views life. We follow His ‘Facebook’ page closely, ‘twitter’ consistently. And so.very.slowly. change happens. From the inside out. And we begin to love as he loves, pointing other-broken-ones to the Father who loves relentlessly.
John 13:34 (NIV)
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
This is a gift,
this hunger-need that drives me panting, dreaming, fantasizing, risking.
Him, more of Him I’m craving for.
I’m so content.
Because I’ve tasted, been filled with the Manna (Manna – What Is It). But I’m still craving! I need to keep on tasting, eating, indulging, move beyond what seems convenient, safe even when I do not always, mostly understand.
Keep asking for this hunger
until I see, it is not bread alone
until I see, Him
until I see, our city.
He turned rivers into a desert,
flowing springs into thirsty ground,
and fruitful land into a salt waste,
because of the wickedness of those who lived there.
He turned the desert into pools of water
and the parched ground into flowing springs;
there he brought the hungry to live,
and they founded a city where they could settle.
Psalm 107:33,35,36
(NIV Translation)
I
We walk with it.
We go to bed with it.
It is on the table when we sit down for a meal. This news about the cancer disfiguring her face and having her eat with a teaspoon and we hear her struggle to speak over the phone, a continent away. She sits up in a chair at night unable to move her head, legs heavy, swollen with water just to hear that the scheduled treatment date has been postponed, yet again. And maybe the Morphine will help for the pain, the terrible burning pain.
And I have this battle – about saving, healing, bringing relief, out. But the only victory is frustration and disillusionment.
The teacher-man hands me something to read…
The Father, who made us, loves us deeply and knows us better than we know ourselves.
So ask whatever. But the prayer he always answers is,
Glorify your name,
Your will only,
Your greater purpose only!
Father, may the purpose for which you have created her and placed her where you have, in this family, in this world, be fulfilled completely. Amen.
John 12:27,28
After seven lean, bony years plus two, I wanted to return the breath of life to the Giver. Life was just too hard and my faith hit the ground.
Then life was spoken to me through a word from the pastor of our church. (And teacher-man nodded in agreement.)
“You have been living for your family and others. Choose life for yourself.”
But how?
Then I read it one morning. And something shifted.
The choice is put before us, every day, actually moment by moment – life or death (curse or blessing). We are even told what to choose. And we have to mindfully, willfully make a choice, give a step – easy or not easy. And a step or two it might well be because slipping into old ways come without thinking. Like many a farm road run deep from driving the tractor to the field, season in and season out. One can let go of the steering wheel, it will run all by itself down those tracts, to the same old field. That easy.
And me?
Stop.
Think.
Choose.
What am I pondering on? What do I look at? Which voices do I listen to? Which words do I use? What do I do?
Choose. Life.
Whatever I choose will have an effect on those around me, and especially those sitting around my table. By choosing life I hold on to my Father. By holding on to Him, I’m able to live in the land where I’m placed – school, home, office, hospital…
So, I willfully choose, moment by moment. Honestly, sometimes I still find myself on the tyre tracts heading for the old field. But, I live!
Deuteronomy 30: 19,20
The journal bulging – written and stuck full. Time for a new one.
I flip the pages, candle pushing light, and tea (for two).
May, 4th
The teacher sharing Life somewhere.
Me waiting for Life here.
I read…
Kirsty flips pages
clock ticks
fridge hums
my mind runs a home…
He’s here.
I know.
Thirsty for voice, touch, breath…
my confusion
right…wrong…conscience…condemnation…not enough!
Right and wrong tree
so often satisfies hunger. No. Always a meal.
Tree of Life?
No condemnation! Enough!
But how?
Turn,
feet in the stream of Life.
His purpose. His glory alone.
Look for Life.
O God, help!