Threads

I read over this poem that I wrote one Saturday morning, and I realized that while it aptly described where I was at the time, God's grace has given me the strength and will to move on. I'm so grateful for His unwavering love and mercy.

I woke up from my drugged sleep
feeling sluggish and heavy
I sat with my morning coffee
and a great sadness returned
and soundless tears rolled down my face

I took my coffee to the stoop in the backyard
and the normalcy of life washed over me
new blooms in the garden—new weeds too
harsh cries from birds
disturbed by the wanderings of my cat

in ten years, mom, we’ll look back
and talk about this with disbelief
assurances from my daughter

where is my solid ground?
where my hope and strong faith?
they are drowning in the sea of present realities
and I am hanging on to the thread
of what I’ve known to be the greatest reality
God’s love for me and my children

Nancy Perkins
Saturday, May 14, 2011

Joanie Brings Hope

Because my natural bent is Debbie Downer
You know—worst case scenario and all that,
I tend to draw the breath and life out of an already sad situation

Here comes Joanie, auntie from the south
And like my son, she talks of hope and turning things around,
Looking for the proverbial silver lining

It’s a God thing—a sign of His grace and mercy in our life
That He sent us this gift from Jackson
Bearing gifts and collard greens and hope.

- Nancy Perkins

Justice?

An expression of my thoughts as my son struggles to right a wrong.

An unjust confrontation

revealing man in his true form

giving for one brief moment

insight into how injustice feels

has now turned around

doubled back and become a second wound

evil came and had his way

and great havoc has been wrought

and here is the innocent

at the threshold of his glorious moment

shut down and made to look like sin

turning the truth into a lie

with motivation of the deepest purity

to help provide for those dear to him

he persevered and worked his future

in spite of numerous obstacles—he ran

and now

was it for naught

it can’t be so

injustice cannot have the last word

-Nancy Perkins 

May 2011

Insane Love

The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell

It goes beyond the highest star and reaches to the lowest hell

The guilty pair bowed down with care God gave his Son to win

His erring child He reconciled and pardoned from his sin.

Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the sky of parchment made

Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade

To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry

Nor could the scroll contain the whole though stretched from sky to sky.

Oh love of God how rich and pure how measureless and strong

It shall forever more endure, the saints and angels song.

- Frederick M Lehman

The lyr­ics are based on the Jew­ish poem Had­da­mut, writ­ten in Ara­ma­ic in 1050 by Meir Ben Isaac Ne­hor­ai, a can­tor in Worms, Ger­ma­ny. It is said that the second stanza of this song was found written on the wall of an inmate in an insane asylum, after he had been carried to his grave.

Before I opened my eyes this morning the words of this song were flowing through my head. I lay there and repeated them to myself several times with a smile.

How has the western Christian world wandered so far from this amazing reality? Last night I was reading Evolving in Monkeytown by Rachel Held Evans, and as I read her musings about John’s vision on the lone island, I was moved to tears—even as I sit here now, my eyes fill up and I could very quickly melt again.

I’m not sure what the copyright rules are, but I have to share this, with credit to Rachel Held Evans:

…I wondered what exactly John saw and heard to convince him that the kingdom of God includes people from every nation, tribe, people, and language, people from the north and the south and the east and the west. I imagined that he must have seen women wearing glorious red, green and gold saris beneath their white robes. He must have seen voluminous African headdresses of every shape and color. He must have seen the turquoise jewelry of the Navajo, the rich wool of the Peruvians, the prayers shawls of the Jews. He must have seen faces of every shade and eyes of every shape. He must have seen orange freckles and coal-colored hair and moonlike complexions and the lovely flash of brilliant white teeth against black skin. He must have heard instruments of all kinds—bagpipes and lutes and dulcimers and banjos and gongs. He must have heard languages of every sound and cadence, melodies of every strain and rhythms of every tempo. He must have heard shouts of praise to Elohim, Allah, and Papa God, shouts in Farsi and Hindi, Tagalog and Cantonese, Gaelic and Swahili, and in tongues long forgotten by history. And he must have seen the tears of every sadness—hunger and loneliness, sickness and loss, injustice and fear, tsunami and drought, rape and war—acknowledged and cherished and wiped away. In one loud and colorful moment, he must have witnessed all that makes us different and all that makes us the same.

Last evening I read this aloud to my youngest daughter. It’s what I want her to know about God. This is the Good News of the Gospel that changed my life. That compels me to keep on and to resist the forces around me that would try to turn me against the different and keep me in a small confining box. This is the truth I want her to take in her heart to her college campus. This is what I want her to remember when she encounters the superficial and the counterfeit. God’s love is measureless and strong. It’s extravagant and lavish. And it’s present along side all the hurt and pain and injustice and evil, and it wins. Not just in the end, but now. It wins our hearts. It makes us compassionate and kindhearted. It gives us the strength and courage to fight injustice and bigotry, and to be peacemakers. And it’s the only truth that will forevermore endure.

The love of God is greater far…

Pink, Tea and Saint Francis

I gave Jubilee three words to help inspire her to write poetry. The words rattled around in my brain, and I came up with my own little creation. Later that day Juba also wrote a poem. Here are our offerings for your enjoyment. (Thanks to my daughter for graciously allowing me to share her work on my blog.)

“I’m in the garden,” she called. “I’m in the garden.”

She twisted the key into the hole and pushed open the ivy-covered door.

Her soul lifted as she began to walk among the Queen Anne’s lace.

Her long, pink t-shirt was worn and frayed, but it was the only thing that she would allow herself to wear in her garden.

As she bowed before the statue of St. Francis,

he looked up and smiled.

“I’ll walk with you,” the priest said and they strolled hand in hand.

They talked and laughed and finally with a kiss on the cheek, he returned to his creatures.

Wandering on the earth, she smelled the mint before she saw it.

With a bouquet of roses and a handful of tea she closed the door, locked it,

and walked back.

Another time.

- Jubilee

Garden Cantata - Part I

Fragrant mint

And pink drops of

Bleeding heart.

The opening song

In my garden cantata.

St Francis presiding.
- Nancy 

Love and Wings

Love and wings bloom inside me. – Anne Rivers Siddeons Off Season

Sometimes in my reading, a line jumps out and then lingers in my mind. I love it when that happens, especially in a novel that I’m reading purely for enjoyment. So I was thinking about love and wings…

Yesterday we had a time of paschal fellowship with extended family at the home of my youngest sister. We sang, listened to an Easter reading, shared communion, and then ate of a generous meal. Several times throughout the evening, I felt tears well up in my eyes, even running down my face. I knew where it was coming from. Love. God’s love for me. My love for Him. My love for my children. Love for my family. It sounds corny, but I just wanted to hug everyone in that room. I know that we sometimes disagree, and that we have blind spots and sins. But I also know that love is a great covering. My sister Maggie has been such an inspiration to me in her expressions of love. I just love people, she says. I can’t say it any better.

And that’s what’s so amazing about this season of death and resurrection. God’s extravagant love in the gift of Jesus. Jesus’ love in giving his life. The power of the resurrection to overcome the strength of un-love. Love wins!

Which brings me to wings. What sort of wings bloom inside me? Here I also have Maggie to thank.  Fairy wings. Wings of imagination and fantasy. Gauzy wings that are transparent and yet powerful, lifting me beyond my weariness and the mundane to view things from above and cherish the beauty of Spring. Wings of the tiny hummingbird and powerful eagle that hover over the blooms in the garden and sail around the mountaintops and pines.

Angels’ wings that carrying me to the arms of God and back to the embrace of my children. Wings that bear me over the stormy billows and into the safe cleft of the rock. Wings of freedom and life. Oh, I’m sure I sound loony—I’m almost laughing out loud at myself. And yet...

...Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Feel love well up inside you for all of creation. Let go and feel the wings unfold, catching the wind and lifting you up. Amazing, right?

The Palms

O'er all the way green palms and blossoms gay
Are strewn this day in festal preparation
Where Jesus comes to wipe our tears a way
E'en now the throng to welcome Him prepare
Join all and sing, His name declare,
Let ev'ry voice resound with acclamation
Hosanna! Praise to the Lord!
Bless Him who cometh to bring us salvation!

His word goes forth, and people by its might
Once more regain freedom from degradation
Humanity doth give to each his right,
While those in darkness are restored to light
Join all and sing, His name declare,
Let ev'ry voice resound with accalmation
Hosanna! Praise to the Lord!
Bless Him who cometh to bring us salvation!

Sing and rejoice. O blest Jerusalem,
Of all thy songs sing the emancipation;
Through boundless love, the Christ of Bethlehem
Brings forth the hope to thee forevermore.
Join, sing His name divine,
Let ev'ry voice resound with united acclamation,
Hosanna! Praised be the Lord,
Bless Him who cometh to bring us salvation.

-J. B. Faure

This is a song we sing every Palm Sunday at Bethel AME Church in Lancaster. Palm branches are given to each person and as we sing the refrain, the join all and sing part everyone waves their branches in the air. It's always an emotional time for me. I think it makes me think of the time when we will welcome Christ into our midst once again. Or maybe it's wishful thinking...that Christians everywhere could raise their voices together and celebrate the love of God without division or separation. Enjoy.