The path to church last week was a series of closed streets, on-ramps and detours.
The need to assemble sometimes outweighs being late.
After the third re-routing, let’s be honest,
I started scouting for diners,
ready to trade in worship for feasting.
We were able to exhale once
Caleb was deposited to his class and
the four of us took our places in a nose bleed
worthy upper balcony pew.
We missed the first songs, testimony,
announcements and sitting where we had
It took many twists and turns to sit in those seats.
We all have our own faith journeys.
I glance from time to time to sneak a peek
at my two daughters
and think of Caleb in the next building.
From the moment each one was laid in my arms,
I have been consumed with loving them beyond reason
and without end.
The loving part is not a challenge.
It’s every other part of the equation which proves difficult.
I have wanted to teach them every possible lesson for
every possible scenario.
I have wanted them to love each other deeply and count
it all joy to be brother and sisters,
well, at least most of the time.
I have wanted them to unearth their passions
and breath deeply into their dreams.
I have hoped hard that they would one day believe Carl
and I had been the parents they needed
and somehow forget
Far above anything, I have wanted them to love
God because His love for them defies reason and
has always been and always will remain.
I have held so tightly to these hopes like they were
wishes upon a dandelion fully in seed.
I have witnessed gentle and violent breezes send
the seeds spiraling into orbit.
At times I have tried to be God, with everything
that Helen could muster, I tried to line up these
three people’s lives to align the way I viewed
as just, right and acceptable.
Yet sitting there in that sky-high pew, my hands
release their choke hold on these three beloveds
of my heart and soul.
There will be detours and road blocks in this life,
in their lives,
in my life.
There will be sections of life when roads are
closed for repair.
The tarnished and scratched watch I have worn
displaying my timetable
has now been relinquished to my Maker,
to their Maker.
I have found Him trustworthy.
I have found Him without equal,
flawless in character.
90 minutes pass and we are cramming into what was once
my grandfather’s Buick navigating our way home.
A question is lobbed in Caleb’s direction about his time in class.
He chatters about God providing manna in the wilderness and
water from a rock to satisfy the Israelite’s hunger and thirst.
We all nod and uh-huh as we had heard the same
A shared experience.
We had all known wilderness
We had all journeyed on different pathways
yet as one family.
We all nod and uh-huh that God has been
faithful to provide manna every day
for every hunger pain.
He has provided water to satisfy
our penetrating thirsts.
He has never taken a break
from His post watching our flock.
Every road we traverse,
I can trust He is there,
and possessing hope.
A bucket full of hope
large enough to empty
its contents over me,
displacing my fears and
worst case scenarios.
I drop my timepiece in His hands
and open my mouth
to shout but the sound is only
released in a whisper,
“They are all yours.
You can keep time.”
He assures me,
a hushed prayer is