pausing

Even though we just got back from CA, our hearts are down there with Benjamin's godparents right now. My thoughts have been especially with their daughter, a sister of mine -- wishing that college didn't always seem so far away. I'm grateful for the Lord's protection and healing hands for our beloved "Uncle," and ask that you join me in praying for swift recovery. In the meantime, I thought I'd share something else from the archives -- this one written for Katie.

[saturday nights at huntington, 3/31/2003]

it's dark and there are many beauties
sky and smell and wind and hands
and the tiny flame that fought to exist
is dancing its joy at being alive

the blankets we share smell faintly of flowers
grasses from picnics still cling underneath
the breeze and the chill slowly spread around us
combining little bumps with a salty perfume

the guitar we carry still shines like new
and random plucks pierce the silence of the dark
it's easier to talk when the silence isn't listening
so i play with chords and awkward strums

slowly our voices express themselves
with quiet whispers and pauses and sighs
your eyes are dry but deep and expressive
unwinding the week and hopes of our hearts

my hands find a rhythm and four chords repeat
we smile at the tune that always emerges
i open my mouth and offer my voice
quickly you join me, "Lord, you're so wonderful"


it's darker now and the air is crisp
full of our laughter and quirky sounds
everything around us lends to possibility
parachutes and Pats and races in the sand


the water is numbing but somehow seems nice
my toes understand when i need to not feel
the ocean is playful and begs for our company
and somehow, again, we find ourselves dripping

we trace our desires into the fickle sand
watching in silence as they're sucked from below
i grab your hand and together we pray
"make us" and "thank you" and "please"

miles away i am sure there are people
farther still are families and school
isolated here i know they can't reach us
as we flicker and dance at being alive