Two Sacraments

Dear Girl Afraid of Water

Why did you scream

when your mother tossed you

in the bath, washed your hair

over plastic tubs?

Did you think

she would let you drown?

Why did you yell,

poolside at the Y,

fearful of jumping

where others were already

buoyed by their skill?

Was it senseless to think

you could float

because only Jesus did,

and you always questioned Him?

And when you took to water

gills and fins grown,

did you call out,

those cool summer dawns

at the public pool?

Did your mother watch, from steel fence

through endless laps

of crawl, breast, back and side,

inflated jeans and flannel shirts?

Did you squeal treading in the deep?

And in Oregon, when rain and wind

poured violently into the sea,

were you afraid

of what would churn forth?

Was it a baptism you felt

over and again,

a chance to come clean

of all your sins – living and dead?

2/21/13

Reconciliation

When God puts you in timeout,

it is not punishment –

to be sent

to the corner of HIs tent.

No frown forms across

His countenance,

expecting confession from the deep,

but rather

an acknowledgment –

You are there

to be forgiven

if only you embrace

this dusty corner created.

There is no stool, no wall,

no pock marks filled with putty

from toasters sailing wide.

Instead tent sides billow

with breeze and light.

He has put away

the wooden spoon, the belt,

soap for your mouth.

You will not be silenced,

nor will silence be judged.

In this bend

He has set aside

lightning, plagues, and floods,

removed bitterness and anger,

and the knife from your back.

He has set forth knowledge

flowing freely as flaps on the tent –

how to forgive yourself.

2/27/2012