Monday, December 19, 2011

Remembrances: the footstools

Stacked in the corner,
remembrances of you.
Green, orange, black,
of childhood tumblings
and vague happiness;
its exactness, I cannot recall.

A wide open pond; the biggest I'd known,
yet small enough for our two pairs of eyes
fishing poles
later, fried shrimp
the taste, remembered on my tongue.

Stacked in the corner,
remembrances of you;
worn places, from years of movement.
Lean back, prop your feet,
feel the brandy go down.
Though I did not see; yet, I know.

So little did you allow,
yet these feet-proppers became
chairs for the wee ones
until one day, I'm sure,
we became outgrown and
recognized your raised voice, come down hard.

Stacked in the corner
of our home now -
what most do they remind me of?
Family and fireplaces and
dogs running 'round
and the corner of old,
where eventually they retired.

Another chance, I will give them
to be used and loved
as before they became old news.
Stacked in the corner,
remembrances of you,
and a chance to begin again.

{Written October 22, 2011}

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

a Family to fall into

"If we didn't have Family to fall into, we would have just fallen into... nothing."

What's happening, amidst student Christmas parties and dinner invitations and homemade pumpkin muffins, is that Family is being made. We knew in our heads that we were Family when we began a journey of living together, but now we know because we're actually living it.

Meals are cooked, promises are broken, desperate phone calls made, jobs lost (jobs gained!), cries heard, prayers desperately prayed. We bend, we stretch. We come, we go. In weakness, we are made strong.

Sitting in the car on a too-cold evening, we agreed: where would we fall if not into the arms of Family? If we, the Body of Christ, aren't near enough to stretch our arms and catch each other, then we're not near enough.

photo credit: breezy torres