A Father’s Offering

Alone, the memory comes,

The light above a hospital bed

I laid in, dim above my head.

You said, you need to eat.

Or maybe a question why

I wasn’t hungry. The tray held

a Sunny D, Hi-C, or Capri Sun.

I can’t remember now, but

I know the sandwich in the baggie.

Bolgna, mustard, white bread.

I nibbled, ignoring the burn within

my heart. My legs were as hot

as the sun. I ached moving,

standing, walking, laying.

I was truly disabled,

not knowing Jesus

planned revealing

your child wondering

voice calm, a twinkling

crescent pinky promising

we were children, still.


Author’s Note: After reading this and this, I shed some tears. And was instantly brought back to the summer I had Streptococcus in my legs. No one knew. I remember the wait in the emergency room. Getting a room finally at 11 at night. Him telling me to eat. And the small uneasiness in his voice, letting me know I wasn’t alone in the unknown. I wonder sometimes why this moment is so profound, why it doesn’t let go. I think it’s Jesus’ reminder we truly never grow. No matter how tall, muscular, money in our pockets, stately we are.  In the face of something, a God beyond our control, we are small. Asked  to hold on, believe, even when all circumstance point the opposite  I felt more a child in that week, than I ever remember. I went easy into my father’s, mother’s, whoever else’s arms willingly. I wanted to fight this heat, but I was always so delirious from the medicine. I think this was a time I gave God COMPLETE AND UTTER control. I had to wait and trust, I’was in best hands. It’s the same this Advent, too. We may be still and know He is God. Little Jesus weeping a Savior’s cry, not from hospital bed, but a stabile. Our stability. Forever.

(I’m started to ramble outsitde my poetry, lately. Thanks for sticking around and reading what my mind is like when I try to not be  all: LOOK AT ME FORMING SHOWY SENTENCES?!  It’s a struggle with poetry, so I’m thankful for this space I’m finally letting have my insanity.)


5 thoughts on “A Father’s Offering

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s