Time enough to take a break.
Time enough to allow a servant husband to take care of two children
and hit the sidewalk pavement hard with sneakers
pounding, pounding, pounding out
with each step the pent up emotions
and fragmented thoughts of a day
running into a week,
a year and
even more years.
Time enough to allow the Spirit to speak
into a crowded, over-worked mind.
Time enough to breathe out the tension
of neverending mommy demands
and breathe in the freedom of being loved.
Time enough to confess
the silly distractions
and plead for higher, deeper desires
to see a broken world made whole--
new lives for old.
Time enough to reflect on the journey...
days past and places risen to
and fallen from.
Time enough to recognize the passion
that once consumed life's work--
that longing to be loved.
Time enough to see the flower of self
blooming before unworthy spectators
who were believed to be the tender of the soil.
Time enough to remember
the wilting of the petals
of a brightly blooming being
pleading for affirmation of its beauty.
Time enough to Praise.
Praise for falling petals
and crumbling stems
and all of the shattered hopes of former days.
Time enough to warm in innermost heart
upon the greatest of lessons learned.
Before the flower was a bud
or shoot or seed,
even without form,
only a thought--
there was Love.
Love itself to create all that is.
Love to see the deepest ugliness
of the misshapen,
the roots that fail to spring up,
the stems that fail to stand,
the buds that do not open
and the petals that wilt before fully spread.
Love to defy the opinions
of all the unworthy ones
who were foolishly allowed
Love to have and to hold.
Love that is the source of life--
not the manipulator of it.
Twenty minutes is time enough
to know and be known.
Time Enough to love and be loved.
Time Enough to come back
with the same old sneakers,
and waiting needs of little ones,
but to have pounded
the pavement of memory
and to have the Spirit
touch His fingers
on the deep of the soul.
Time Enough to have a heart renewed
and a love re-kindled
because twenty sacred minutes
are a gift to the one who is loved
by Love itself.
Re-post for thehighcalling.org,
although not really a poem,
or a catalog one,
something like it.
If you stumble upon,
hope you enjoy:)