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About Elea Lee

Foster parent, adopting parent, family advocate, educator, homeschool parent

For the Son of Man comes to save the lost…

Matthew 18:2-14 KJV
[2] And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, [3] And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. [4] Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. [5] And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. [6] But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. [7] Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh! [8] Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire. [9] And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire. [10] Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven. [11] For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost. [12] How think ye? if a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray? [13] And if so be that he find it, verily I say unto you, he rejoiceth more of that sheep, than of the ninety and nine which went not astray. [14] Even so it is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish.

Beagles, Babies, and “Became”

Isaiah 46:12-13 KJV
[12] Hearken unto me, ye stouthearted, that are far from righteousness: [13] I bring near my righteousness; it shall not be far off, and my salvation shall not tarry: and I will place salvation in Zion for Israel my glory.

This week there was an assault on a farm in Wisconsin that raises beagles for research purposes because they “are trusting, loyal, and easy to handle.”

In England, two men are on trial for unspeakable abuse of a baby they adopted then abused to death.

Jesus became the embodiment of unspeakable horror to pay for unspeakable pain. He bore our sins then bore the holy wrath of God.

He became the sacrificial beagle for the sacrificed baby.

When the minor griefs of my quotidian life hit me hard in my chest, I have to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus. I have to tell Him that I cannot fathom the depths of the horror He endured for this broken, afflicted, heartbroken world.

The wrath of a Righteous God

For the broken beagle

For the broken baby

For the broken-hearted

He is coming back soon

Clothed in Light

The rain came down all day, in a dry and thirsty place

The rivers and gullies rose, brooked banks, flowed, opaque with runoff, to the sea

The little girl felt the weight of it all, no running across the bridge, no looking for turtles and treasury things

The kitchen dance party helped, and the toasted sandwiches

Thank you, God, for the gentle rain, the dappled night, and Dollar Tree ponchos

Which make us all shimmer like apparitions as we walk the dogs through, dark, light, shadow, puddles you can kick up into arcs with your bread roll clogs

Puddles so deep and wide a girl can see her own reflection in them

Reflection of Him (who made the water, who calls the rain)

Who calls us all to shine like this all the time

In the wedding clothes of Light

(Revelation 22

Central Texas)

Ascent

Who questions the story? The strange-god-man beast? His labyrinthine abode? His carnivorous diet? The architect of his incarceration? The boy prisoner?

The last flight

wax and feathers, frenzied, ersatz wings

We all know this is not going to fly

But we proceed nonetheless

Watch them go in your mind, at least, father and son soar in the cloudless

sky where

All literary imagination and polytheistic scaffolding cannot stop the

Firmament from becoming thin and cold a million miles from the sun

Not hot at all, wings useless but intact

The boy would have died eventually, no doubt, but not from any hubristic ascent

No rather, the same things that tie us all to the ground

Aged and infirm

Dragging beautiful, insufficient wings across a sandy shore

This is the labyrinth

First, there is a forgotten Grace—tie this end to the fastening nail, hold onto the string no matter what!—

lights along the highway, who else is up at this hour?

-unspooling like a fishing line—

Saviors, truckers, a rogue paper man, and someone buying ice

-who knows how long the journey-

Love songs and lighted windows

Make a map out of insomnia and vigilance

Lost phones and lost loves

Welcome to the labyrinth/ hold tight to the scarlet cord

Every word that proceeds from the mouth of God

Dissolved into Light

She says

“That was too short!“

I tell her that it would have been longer if

She had been quiet faster

Will you write another one if I am quiet? She asks

Hard to, nay impossible to,

Say no

Beautiful mockingbird

Origami daughters

Their hair ribbons of color and light like their mothers

Were-are-will be

nothing shall be impossible”

Wind! Birds! Mockingbird! Mother!

He is

The wind that shakes the trees, lifts the wings

Heals the world

(John chapter 3–all of it!)

The Persistent Song

Like the scent of evocative perfume

The words lift across

Street in the heart

Of a town named for a long-shot Gospel writer

Words about finding love and fish in the oceans

Surprisingly geographically specific

Pacific Ocean…Indian Ocean

These similes for lost love

A thin, reedy, fearless voice

Neon lights

Somethings are lost in the now

Known only to the One who sees

The not yet the will be

Impossibles come true

One day we will all know

The words

Pareidolia

Within days of the end of an era I lay beneath a cloudy night sky and drew faces from slow moving clouds and stars and planets

I resisted the urge to cup your face in my hand or bang the flats of my palms against the heavy plate glass of the cathedral

Yell your name

But I had to

Had to

Had to

Touch the hem of your garment

Pray you turn and say my name

The Frog King

He would be

A lovely boy who lived

Close to the frog pond

The tadpoles would catch glimpses

Of him through the refractory waters

Walking to and fro in the cool of the day

But could they trust their love? How could they ever measure up?

How many froglings does it take to amalgamate

A suitable consort for a King?

All of them with all their hearts

Eyes fixed skyward

To see his face and speak at last in the tongues of

Men and angels

The Dark House

I have not thought about the dark house in years.

There were roads not taken—a house in the woods, a beautiful Victorian with no yard, a dog-less condo.

When you are old you realize how much you did badly

So many regrets.

But not the landlady, not the note, not the conversation between the nice neighbor and the petulant four year old

Defiant on the roof of the porch when she should have been sleeping

Later, much later, she would sleep when she should have been

Defiant on the porch of the house

I pray the time machine prayer

Dear God, permeate the darkness, the loneliness, the horror, the nightmare, the hell the children went through

Let them sing in the courts of the Temple of God

Hosanna, hosanna in the highest!!