When was the last time we skipped?
Not a meal.
Neither church.
A kiss goodnight?
*
I’m talking about skipping, literally.
Down a sidewalk.
In a park.
Along a hallway.
*
When was the last time our hearts
Skipped a beat;
Lept a leap?
Bounced in hope?
*
Come, take my hand.
See the floor,
The path ahead?
Let’s skip instead.
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” Jesus
John 14:1
Lord of the dance,
roll out the sun
and its shine.
Light up the scape
with nervous pastels
furrowing spring breezes.
Let the arias raise
like winged praise
above the seams.
Take our hand,
glide us, lead us,
light on our feet.
Till our dormant hearts.
Water us down to the
tip of our roots.
Guide us to the
updrafts of Your glory,
to float on Your praise.
You are the Lord
of the dance.
Sweep us up.
You think?
I simply want to stumble
Across laughter,
Slip on some silly,
And fall down,
Belly rolling in
Hysterical mud.
Life is seriously funny
Don’t you think?
This smile?…
You wipe it off my face.
If I release tears like race horses
which one will fall into the lead?
The gate opens and they’re off!
Anger gets out at the jump,
with Dissappointment a nose back.
Loneliness makes a run for third,
edged out by Rejection.
Grief settles in between
Laughter and Loss,
While Joy brings up the rear.
The track of the tears
comes alive as dirt and dust
rise in and behind the pack.
They are neck in neck,
cheek to cheek
as the backstretch looms.
It’s any horse’s race but
Joy is on the move,
but not on the outside.
Joy is moving through
the thick of it, jockeying,
bumping bellies,
smelling sweat,
listening as the hoofs
displace earth while
muzzles move air.
The movement is hidden
within at first, but down
the wire Joy overcomes
by two lengths.
Jesus, keep me from deifying
Gravity with those memories
Of self-pining, pinned down,
Fastened to floors of unforgiving.
Lord Jesus, Come help me defy
Gravity, grant moments
Of rising above
With leaps of grace and mercy.
When I walk, may it be light
Obedient steps
Morphing into a dervish dance
While gravity spirals away.
Words glided across the floor
and rose on toes occasionally.
Gray hair flew and a white dress flowed.
Father and daughter dancing
a private conversation
in front of everyone.
Winged tips shuffled on air
and crystal slippers clinked
like long stemmed wine glasses.
We a sipped on their conversation
of pear shaped tears of joy.
Water to wine.
Written for John Monroe, Father of the bride, June 1st, 2013.
The pill I found
awakened me like
Robert Deniro.
The dancing unfurled
with you in hand
and spectrums rose.
Nerves had no end
and struck like lightning
and I was blind for a spell.
A forty year reverse
to when hiding and seeking
was just a game.
Jesus was counting
against the tree
looking for me.
“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.” Psalm 139:1
She was thigh high and three.
She turned and saw me stare
and then without warning
handed me a smile.
It laid in my palm
and straddled my life line.
I smiled a ‘thank you’ back
and closed my fingers over it.
It was slipped into my pocket
next to keys and some pennies.
There it stayed all day
like a receipt.
I forgot about it.
A few days later
I was scooping out the lint trap
and it was right next to a candy wrapper.
It was faded a bit and wrinkled.
I plucked it out of the fibers
and got out the ironing board.
I set the iron to delicates.
After folding it nicely
I placed it in my drawer
right on top of the kerchiefs,
neatly.
It waits there.
I will fetch it when
the blood runs
and the sweat beads
and the tears roll.
I will wipe her smile on my face.
I have a child named Zoe. Zoe means ‘life’. It was another Zoe at Sam’s Club who handed me that smile. Thank You!
Take some time today to for some handouts…give your smile to someone, it might surprise them later in their lint trap.
The dance began with the sun.
It waltzed with the clouds
and yellow was sent in pirouettes
lightly upon the water.
The wind put its arms around us all
and led us to each other.
*
We saw “together.”
When it was “I do,” they did.
Our hearts had become a river dance.
Tears leapt and rolled with joy.
*
Boys, close to the floor,
jumped and jived.
Young maidens freestyled
and painted the room with brush strokes
and furls of color which spun outward.
Oldlyweds stepped in and out
and renewed their vows,
slow and tight and true.
*
This was a time to heal,
a time to laugh,
a time to embrace,
a time to love,
and a time to dance.
*
For Steve and Shannon Lumetta, who gave us good reason to dance!
Those are the hand written words for my wife from Ann Voskamp.
This morning I finished One Thousand Gifts and wept.
Here, this grown man of fifty one, weeping over a woman’s ability to form into words the authentic struggle and blessing of life. It wasn’t information passed, but a communion of well chosen words arranged in a book vase and set on the desk of this man’s heart.
I love flowers and beauty and poetry, especially when they are placed within weeds and ugly and the flat sentences of life. That is what Ann Voskamp has given to me over the past six months; her heart. It wasn’t her heart only, but the cadence of every heartbeat reverberating off life authentic.
I cannot add words to this book.
Ann summed it up when I handed my wife’s copy to her…
Joy can be taken!
Grace is everywhere.
Gratefulness precedes the miracle. Eucharisteo!
I will come back to the poetic prose of Voskamp. Have you read One Thousand Gifts?
Gerald the Writer 