Sacred Places

It's the obscure spot
on a winding
country road
where the body
broke
but the soul was
freed.

It's the bathroom floor
wet with tears
cried from a
broken spirit
who bows
her head
to a sovereign God.

It's a quiet porch
overlooking the beauty
of a yard with
tall trees worshiping.
It's the whispered caress
of God
in the breeze.

It's the heart of
a God-wrestler
pushing Him away
while still holding on tightly.
It's the exhausted embrace
of a God-pursuer
who has finally come back home.

A Story Of Two Girls

Two girls -
two thousand years a part
both asleep
with loved ones begging
for a miracle.

One girl -
dying of sickness,
the other one of
instant tragedy.
Both families
wait for healing.
Both wait
for the physician.

One family's hope
was dashed,
then astonishment filled
the room
as the girl got up and walked.

One family's hope
was stubborn,
until the pronoucement
was made
and the girl remained still
and beautifully broken.

Jesus came to both girls,
separated by two thousand years.
He took their hand in his
and told them,
"Little girl, get up."

One girl got up and
walked back into her family's arms,
back to her earthly life.

The other girl got up as well
and kept her hand in his
as he led her to the better life.

Mark 5:35-43
vs. 41 - He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum!" (which means, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!").

We love you.
Michelle L. Shoemaker Smoker
August 12, 1979-April 25, 2009

Rain

Rain~

so thorough and complete

consistent and straight forward

no pretense

rain like God's sorrow

pouring down

weeping with the ones

who weep

taking their pain

and making it his

grieving and aching

releasing and taking.

Thirsting

If spirits could storm
mine would be tearing
itself a part with lightning.
If hearts could dry up
mine would be
whithered and dirty.

I thirst for Living Water -
You hold it out to me.
I pretend I do not see you
and turn to walk away.

I drink the dust instead
and die a little bit more.
But still you're there,
inviting me in.

The Heart by Stephen Crane

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
held his heart in his hands,
and ate it.

I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
because it is bitter,
and because it is my heart."

Breaking Tears

A tear drop
wets
the lashes of
her eye,
until they sweep
her upper cheek,
and slowly
down
it glides.
The tear
pauses
at the corner
of her upper
lip,
tasting the salt -
another teardrop
drops -
falling to
her chin
where it
rests
awhile,
until it
breaks upon
her chest.

To weep
is a release,
a break
in self sustaining
pride.
To cry out -
whether in
anger
or
remorse -
is still
falling
into
you,
becoming,
once more,
your little
child.

Just Me

You are God,
but I am me.
You are God
though I want to be.
You mastermind the workings of the universe.
I stupidly try to interfere.
You count down the months till the doe gives birth,
I hold out to you my self destruction.
You smile and say, "Give it here."
Then, because you can't fix it fast enough,
I grab it back and hold on tight.
Maybe this time God, it's too much.
You smile and say,
"Try as you might, you won't get it right.
I give orders to the morning,
I show the dawn it's place.
By my command the eagle takes off soaring,
and finds a safe place to rest at night.
I've counted every hair on your head,
your name is engraved upon my palms.
But you choose to trust yourself instead."

And after I'm exhausted and my anger has subsided,
after my self loathing and the nagging and the chidding,
I realize that you are God.
And I am just me.

~ June 10, 2008